Grammaticusâs faraway voice speaking to me. Radiant Time, he said. The Black or Second Aether . A greater darkness lies within the familiar darkness of the void. âHere the black sun sits, drawing us all into its insatiable orbit. But on the other side of that sun are the antiworlds thrown out by a blazing light bursting fresh. And so it turns, throughout Creation! The Great Galliard!â There were so many kinds of light: crystalline, fiery, gaseous, sharp. He passed his hands through the orrery again. I felt powerless to look at his face. I saw the Queen of Pentacles dancing with the high priestess and the emperor dancing around the sun. I saw the King, Queen and Knight of Swords form a circle. And in the middle of all was the fool. The fool, poor Pierrot, who had let his Columbine dance off with her Harlequin.
The black energy pulsed and coiled between the stars. The silver threads arced and twisted making impossible connections. Heavy drops of blood fell like summer rain. Huge shadows spread to obscure a mass of suns. I was in agony. My sickness had become an intense burning sensation. I did all I could to shrink it and rid myself of it. Mass is present but invisible, explained by the presence of identical worlds unseen by us. They nest, one inside the other. Frequently, the only clue we have is the Dark Flow! Step this way, then that, between the worlds. Step and step. So and so. You dance the Great Galliard!
He was teaching me something through hypnotism? Was I learning what he wished me to learn? Should I have listened better? Perhaps if I had been in a different situation I would have done. My new interest in Moll Midnight kept me involved. I felt all this had something to do with her. The science involved was over my head! Was it time I turned to Harlequin in pursuit of my love? I was crying hard now. I gave no further attention to Father Grammaticus. Silver roads? An illusion? Still crying I stood up. I tried to shake my head to rid it of all the images. I closed my eyes. Began to sway. It felt like dying.
I came to know what death was. I couldnât tell anyone. I knew what it felt like when they said they were in Godâs hands. Even now I had almost no control over my thoughts or my limbs. I watched the black tendrils snake amongst the brightness, appearing to absorb it. I saw what looked grey and yellow like flames flaring and dying. I felt I was actually outside the universe. From Limbo I regarded it. The universe was a rippling pool of many dimensions. My hands especially burned but were numb at the same time. Everything had the familiarity of a recently remembered dream. All kinds of strange, uncomfortable thoughts came to me. They blossomed into images. Faces leered. Faces cried out, begging me for aid. Molly? She was there in a thousand aspects. Faces showed pity, love, pain. I couldnât help them. I had no volition. My whole being, every part, every inch of me, wanted to rest, to sleep. Slowly I became unable to move or think. I lost any sense of identity, any memory, any emotion. Yet still Father Grammaticus continued to talk in that calm, cultivated voice. I wanted to escape. I could neither move nor think. I felt myself grow entirely numb. I wept until there were no more tears.
Â
5
PROTECTING THE PROTECTOR
And then I was standing again in the chapel as an exhausted old man said goodbye before handing me back into the keeping of Friar Isidore.
Another pat on the shoulder from the abbot and I was led from the abbey grounds. Friar Isidore was childishly excited by what he called our successful s é ance. When he kissed me as we parted at the gate, I was in no way surprised. The act was entirely spontaneous and without any kind of sexual overtones. I cheerfully agreed to see him the following Wednesday at the typesetterâs and I shook his hand. Afraid of hurting his feelings, I didnât mention that I had agreed to meet Moll Midnight the next day. I could think of
The black energy pulsed and coiled between the stars. The silver threads arced and twisted making impossible connections. Heavy drops of blood fell like summer rain. Huge shadows spread to obscure a mass of suns. I was in agony. My sickness had become an intense burning sensation. I did all I could to shrink it and rid myself of it. Mass is present but invisible, explained by the presence of identical worlds unseen by us. They nest, one inside the other. Frequently, the only clue we have is the Dark Flow! Step this way, then that, between the worlds. Step and step. So and so. You dance the Great Galliard!
He was teaching me something through hypnotism? Was I learning what he wished me to learn? Should I have listened better? Perhaps if I had been in a different situation I would have done. My new interest in Moll Midnight kept me involved. I felt all this had something to do with her. The science involved was over my head! Was it time I turned to Harlequin in pursuit of my love? I was crying hard now. I gave no further attention to Father Grammaticus. Silver roads? An illusion? Still crying I stood up. I tried to shake my head to rid it of all the images. I closed my eyes. Began to sway. It felt like dying.
I came to know what death was. I couldnât tell anyone. I knew what it felt like when they said they were in Godâs hands. Even now I had almost no control over my thoughts or my limbs. I watched the black tendrils snake amongst the brightness, appearing to absorb it. I saw what looked grey and yellow like flames flaring and dying. I felt I was actually outside the universe. From Limbo I regarded it. The universe was a rippling pool of many dimensions. My hands especially burned but were numb at the same time. Everything had the familiarity of a recently remembered dream. All kinds of strange, uncomfortable thoughts came to me. They blossomed into images. Faces leered. Faces cried out, begging me for aid. Molly? She was there in a thousand aspects. Faces showed pity, love, pain. I couldnât help them. I had no volition. My whole being, every part, every inch of me, wanted to rest, to sleep. Slowly I became unable to move or think. I lost any sense of identity, any memory, any emotion. Yet still Father Grammaticus continued to talk in that calm, cultivated voice. I wanted to escape. I could neither move nor think. I felt myself grow entirely numb. I wept until there were no more tears.
Â
5
PROTECTING THE PROTECTOR
And then I was standing again in the chapel as an exhausted old man said goodbye before handing me back into the keeping of Friar Isidore.
Another pat on the shoulder from the abbot and I was led from the abbey grounds. Friar Isidore was childishly excited by what he called our successful s é ance. When he kissed me as we parted at the gate, I was in no way surprised. The act was entirely spontaneous and without any kind of sexual overtones. I cheerfully agreed to see him the following Wednesday at the typesetterâs and I shook his hand. Afraid of hurting his feelings, I didnât mention that I had agreed to meet Moll Midnight the next day. I could think of
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