An Evening at the Carnival with Mister Christian

"No, I would say the creature I see before me is a just creation."

The giant paused, as if the Guild Master's words had hit with some grave effect, but then the chiseled form of the giant wavered, grew indistinct in the torchlight, and just as the broadsheet had vanished in the air by his lofting shed those few days ago, so too now did the giant. The shimmering form of the creature swirled in amber mists, broke down into leafy particles that hung in the passage, slowly drifting on errant currents. While the dust of this creature's absolution hovered in the air, the Guild Master walked forward, tried to reach into the swirling mist, but soon another form took shape in the dim stone passage, and within moments the form resolved into yet another permutation of Mr Christian.

"Come," the magician said, as he resumed his walk back to the front of the castle.

The Guild Master tucked in behind the magician and followed him, and soon they reached the heavy gate that led out of the castle.

"Have you seen enough, Hilarion? Need we tempt you further?"

The Guild Master staggered under the weight of that name, under the weight of unknown memory.

"By what did you call me?"

"By any other name. One you used, many years ago."

"I know of that name, but why would you think..."

"And why would I not?"

"You speak in riddles, like the Deceiver."

"I speak the truth, like a friend."

"Oh? You are my friend?"

"You are curious, but full of doubt even now. As you have always been."

"Always? You know me from where, my erstwhile friend?"

"Not from where, Hilarion. It is of the 'when' that I speak."

"My apologies, but of 'when do you speak'?"

"Of Time. The Riddle of Time. Do you know of this?"

"No, and I have not seen you before, so there is nothing I need learn from you."

"Then go now, and fear not what will happen in time." The magician pointed to the door. "Go ahead. Leave, now, and be content to leave your ignorance unsullied."

"Or?" the Guild Master said to the implied choice hanging in the air.

"Or follow me. Let me reacquaint you with what was."

"What was? Are you mad?"

"Perhaps. Would you rather return to your friends?"

The Guild Mater stared at the magician, unsure of the stranger's intent, or his trustworthiness, but he knew he teetered on the brink of a great decision. "I will follow you," he said at last, "but do not leave me."

"As you wish. Take my hand."

+++++

As Claus Esterhaus watched the Guild Master walk into the castle he felt ill, sick to his stomach, and regretted his decision to indulge in a large midday meal, but he had wanted to keep the evening free, free to talk with Jennifer.

But she too was gone, had simply vanished into the castle and not been seen since.

Next Langston had disappeared, leaving both her remaining brothers beside themselves with anxiety. Just now, when the Guild Master walked in the heavy gate, Esterhaus felt nauseous as his own anxiety built to a fever pitch, then a fifth magician walked out into the torchlight and walked straight to where he stood.

'Are you ready?' the creatures sepulchral eyes seemed to say, for this one was eerily silent.

"Me?" Esterhaus said.

Whatever it was, it held it's hand out and pointed at the wall, and without further comment he walked beside the creature to the gate. Not one soul then gathered under the torchlight said a word as he walked away, though Timothy crossed himself and appeared deep in prayer.

Once inside he was confronted with a huge groaning board loaded with fresh roasted turkey and venison and all manner of freshly baked bread, so he grabbed a huge turkey leg and a slab of bread, which he dipped in a savory brown gravy and ate. And all the while the silent magician looked on.

When Esterhaus was finished they continued walking through the castle, then they came to another gate, but the magician put his hand on Esterhaus' shoulder.

He felt like he was vibrating, shaking uncontrollably, then his eyes closed and he knew he was falling inside the darkest, coldest well in the colony.

He fell, landed so hard the wind was knocked out of his chest and his hands hurt terribly.

He opened his eyes, saw he was on top of a tall, conical mountain, and wherever he was -- it was brutally hot out. Hot, and dry too, he noted. He shielded his eyes from the sun, looked around and saw low, stunted trees, and not far away he thought he saw what looked to be a small Doric temple. He turned around, found the magician standing in the shade of a larger tree and walked to stand beside the man in the shadow.

"What the devil has happened? Where is this place?"

The magician pointed at the temple, and spoke at last. "Go there, Gluttony."

"What, there? That building down there?"

"Yes."

"What did you call me? Gluttony?"

"I could as easily call you Humility. Which do you think best suits you?"

"How the devil should I know?"

"Ah. Humility it is."

"What?"

"Not what. Who. Who you seek is in that temple?"

"Temple?"

"There," the magician repeated, pointing down the hill.

"Will you come with me?"

"Must I?"

"Yes. Please."

"Very well. Lead, and I will follow."

They walked down the narrow, well trodden path for some time, until they came to a woman sitting on a rock outside the temple.

"Who is this?" Esterhaus said.

"Who you seek," the magician replied.

"That's very helpful. Does she, perhaps, have a name?"

"She is an oracle, and will not see you, or hear you. But she will tell you the truth, if that is indeed what you seek."

"An oracle? You mean...?"

"Yes. She is the Pythia of Delphi. Listen well, for she cannot lie."

The woman, an older soul who appeared quite worn by time and sorrow, looked around the hillside, and her gaze settled on a lamb grazing in tall, amber grass.

Esterhaus stood silently watching her, then looking at the lamb in the grass for what felt like ages, and all he saw her do was lift her hands to the sky once, as if waving at a passing cloud. She almost appeared, the more Esterhaus thought about it, to be arranging ideas in front of her face, invisible fragments of thought floating in the ether, and from time to time she mumbled something to each of them. She hesitated once, shook her head, then looked over her shoulder with downcast eyes, and began speaking:

"Love of money, and nothing else, will ruin you, poor man. Do not sacrifice your ideals on this altar," the woman said, then she turned around, facing Esterhaus. Now she looked straight into the banked fires of Esterhaus' soul before she continued. "There are two paths ahead of you, ways most distant each from the other. The first, and some would the say the more honorable path, leads to unfettered inquiry, and the glow of enlightenment. The other way leads to the house of slavery, to the frigid unquestioning gaze of the lamb, and this way most mortals take. It is possible to travel the first through the search for humility and the easy embrace of compassion -- so lead your people along this path, and follow the few who have gone before. The other path you will gain through hateful ignorance and an unquestioning will for destruction; you might shun this path most of all. Hear this and tell your people, and you may yet redeem yourself. Ignore these words and your people will find their way back into darkness. Go now. Go and think about what you have heard."

The magician seemed most deferential when he motioned to Esterhaus and bade him to leave the woman alone. They walked away from the temple and the rock upon which she sat, but stopped after a while by the shade of another large tree. Esterhaus thought he might sit, but recoiled when he recognized a huge snake coiled up around the base of the tree, and he started to run.

"Stop, Gluttony, for this creature means you no harm!"

"But..."

"Why must you always embrace fear? With humility comes the grace to watch and listen, and to learn. Did you not hear what the oracles had to say?"

"But that's a damned snake!"

"Damned? Truly?" The magician rolled his eyes, crossed his arms.

"Well, I'm not going to pick up the thing, if that's what..."

"Have I asked you to? Has this creature? Perhaps all it wants is to enjoy the shade, as you do."

Esterhaus shivered despite the intense heat, and the magician seemed to lose interest for a moment, but then he leaned forward a bit and spoke again, softly.

"Ah, Gluttony, you want everything to come your way, and always with such ease. I fear for you, and your children. You must choose your path well."

Esterhaus heard something nearby and turned, watched as the lamb by the oracle made it's way up the hill. He thought at once the little creature must have followed them up the hill, but it walked past him and stopped beside the sleeping serpent, then yawned, and lay down. The two creatures were soon fast asleep, and Esterhaus turned back to the old magician but was surprised to find they were both now atop a mountain of clouds, looking down on faraway islands from a vast height.

+++++

Jennifer Clemens lay on a peculiar moving bed -- some sort of hideously sharp lance in her arm. She was being pushed into the gaping maw of some sort of close, noisome tunnel; then a woman in another room kept telling her to lay still, to hold her breath, and then -- breathe! After what felt like hours she was put on a canted bed and rolled to a room high up in this strange building, and she had no idea where she was now, or at this point even who she was, and so not wanting to appear imbecilic she kept her mouth shut and her eyes open. As she lay in the strange room looking at the sun set over this impossible city, the door to her room opened and a man came into the room.

"Jennie?" the man asked. "Are you awake?"

She looked at the man, she tried to think where she had seen him before -- because he did look familiar, vexingly so -- yet even so, no name came to her...

"I think so," she said.

"Oh, my love! You've given us such a start." He seemed on the verge of tears, shaking and alone. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I think. And you?"

"Me? Oh, Jennie!"

"It's the morphine," the other man with him said. The one she'd heard called Pete.

The man pulled up a chair and sat by the bed; the younger man excused himself, said he was 'off to Starbucks' and would be 'back in a minute.'

"He found you outside, in the square. What were you doing out there, darling?"

"Walking, but I felt lost, didn't know where I was until I saw the old porch."

"Oh my God. Jennie, if someone had taken you..."

"Taken me? Why would anyone do that?"

The man stared at her for a moment, then looked away.

"I've forgotten your name," she said after a few minutes silence.

"What?"

"Your name?"

"Sumner. Don't you remember me?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, everything feels confused right now."

"Well, there's been no stroke, and the cancer hasn't metastasized anywhere near your brain, but Dr German and the neurologists can't find anything that might have caused this. Did you fall today? Anything strange happen?"

She looked away, knew if she mentioned the carnival he would know she was a lunatic.

"I just remember feeling very cold, and then...Pete was with me."

"Thank God for that!"

"Yes, I'm very grateful for his kindness."

"He's not a bad boy, Jennie. Certainly not as bad as you've made him out to be."

She nodded her head. "Yes, perhaps that's so. Where...how is Charley?"

"You remember her?"

"Yes, yes I do. Isn't that strange?"

"Not at all. You two have been close, closer than you and that sister of yours...the best of friends. I'm so glad you insisted we get her."

Jennifer Collins smiled, could remember the day they had driven up to New Hampshire, how they'd run across the 'puppies for sale' sign and come home with that gorgeous, oh so affectionate -- and impossibly tiny Springer Spaniel puppy. The breeder had already named the little pup Charley, and the name stuck. When she first felt ill the little girl seemed to understand, and had burrowed in close that night. These days Charley never slept unless she and Jennifer were touching, and that hadn't changed in the months since her diagnosis, and now Jennifer truly loved the pup, almost as much as she loved Sumner...

And it hit her then, all of it. All of Jennifer Collin's memory came flooding in, pouring in on top of Jennifer Clemens' -- and all of a sudden two sets of memory lay on one another, and she was consumed within clouds of a new confusion.

"Are you alright; you look as if..."

"Yes, Sumner, yes. I'm alright. I was just thinking of the day we brought Charley home from New Hampshire. You remember? Going to Quechee with her?"

"Yup, Simon Pearce. Still my favorite place in Vermont."

"Cheddar cheese soup and crispy duck!" they said in unison, and then they laughed -- together.

He leaned forward, ran his fingers through the remnants of her hair. "Thank God you're here," he said, the tears in his eyes running free now.

"I've told you a hundred times, Sumner, I'm not leaving you behind."

"I know, my love. I know."

+++++

Jeremiah and Timothy stood together outside the carnival, stood in torchlight, bathed in anxiety.

"They will not be inside the gate, brother," Timothy said. "Indeed, I fear they have left this land, forever."

"Perhaps you are right, Tim. Still, what choice do we have? Abandon Jennifer, and Langston as well? Abandon them to an unknown fate?"

"I am afraid..."

"And we must tame our fear, brother. We must stand up to it, not let fear cloud our way..."

A sixth magician stood by the gate and pointed at Timothy, his meaning clear.

"I cannot help it, brother. I am afraid," and Jeremiah saw that his brother was visibly crying now, shaking uncontrollably. "I can not bear to do this."

"Man of God, True Believer!" the spectral magician called. "Come now, and meet your maker."

"What?!" Timothy cried "Meet God? Are you mad?!"

The magician laughed gently as he walked up to Timothy and his brother. "Do you not know God?"

"In my heart, yes, I do?"

"Then you have nothing to fear, do you?"

"You say I am to meet God? May I speak to him?"

"If that is thee wish."

"Where is my brother, and Jennifer, my sister? And all that have gone before?"

"Where?"

"Yes, where are they -- now?"

The magician pointed at the gate, and to the carnival beyond. "In there, Wrath."

"Wrath?" Timothy cried. "Wrath, you say? So then, it is of the seven sins you speak, is it not?"

"And seven virtues, Man of God."

"Charity, then? I am Wrath -- and Charity?"

"These are the choices that may define the path you walk, yes."

"And what is the purpose of this evening, Magician," Jeremiah asked, interrupting the old man.

"Magician? Me? Oh, hardly that."

"Well then, what of our purpose here? What are we to see inside this carnival?"

"The purpose?" the old man said with a dry, sardonic grin spreading on his face.

"Yes. Purpose. Is there a purpose to this evening?"

"Only to show you the way ahead."

"The future, you mean? You mean to show us the future?"

"For some, Pride, the future may be the key. For others, the past alone carries the weight of the future."

"So, I am a proud man," Jeremiah replied. "And you enjoy riddles? Is that it?"

"Is not your life a riddle, Pride?"

"No! Mine is not, Magician. My life is to care for my family, to protect them and see to their welfare."

"Yes, all can see that you are a Patient man, and your love is self-evident. Your struggle is perhaps the most difficult of all, but I will be back to join you after I have seen your brother on his way. I must ask you to put this on, first." The magician tossed green garments to Jeremiah. "It is not difficult to put on, Pride, at least if you are Patient." He smiled at Jeremiah, then turned to Timothy. "It is your time, Wrath. You must decide, now."

"Of course I'll go," Timothy said, though he felt light-headed and unsteady on his feet.

"Then follow me."

They set off through the grass towards the billowing orange tapestries, and when the two got to the wall Timothy paused, then the gate opened and he walked through...

...and stepped into a meadow, a world of amber grain dancing under a fierce, midday sun.

It was very hot here, wherever 'here' was, and the sun shone with breathtaking intensity, yet even so a cooling sea-borne breeze drifted across these fields of grass from time to time. Timothy felt good, even exhilarated by the suddenness of this passage, but then he became seriously disoriented. He put his hands out, seemed to sway in the breeze, then he saw the old magician by his side.

"Are you unwell?"

"I don't know. I feel...strange." Timothy looked at the old man, and as this wizard seemed in good spirits Timothy felt almost optimistic about what lay ahead.

Then the old man pointed at a nearby stream and walked to the water's edge. "The water here is cool, and refreshing. Drink now, for we have a long walk ahead."

Timothy went to the stream, knelt and cupped his hands. The water was cold, the taste clear and exquisitely refreshing. He felt sweat on his brow and dipped his hands again, rinsed his face; when he looked up again he saw a boy across the way walking towards the stream. The boy had a container to carry water in, and he knelt when he reached the stream and filled the vessel, then turned and walked back across the field towards a hill perhaps a mile off.

"You should follow him," the magician said, "for he will lead you to your need."

Timothy shrugged his shoulders as he looked after the boy. "My need? Could you possibly be more obscure?"

"Ah, it is clarity you seek?" the magician said. "That too may you find, on this path, at least."

"Who do you keep speaking of a path? Do you know of what you speak?"

"Why yes, I do," the magician said as he began walking. "Your life is the life of the land your father chose. The choices you and your family make now will define the course of generations yet to be, so perhaps you should walk here with that firmly in mind. A mind open to such possibilities as your father may have only dreamed."

"Here? Just where is 'here'?"

"Near the village of Bethlehem. You have heard of this place?"

"You mean...in King David's land?"

"Yes. Israel. Palestine. This is a holy land that has known many names, a place of conflict without end, hate without resolution."

"And who is that boy?"

"In your time, you will know him as The Christ, the Son of your God."

Timothy's eyes opened wide. "What are you doing? Why do you deceive me so?"

"I offer no deception, Wrath. The only deceptions you will find here are deceptions of the self, and I am but a means to an end."

"Self deception? You offer self deception?"

The magician paused to laugh, then he looked at Timothy with knowing eyes. "Do you tire? You are falling behind."

"No, I'm fine."

"Oh?"

"How far off is this place? Where we are going?"

"We are near, I think. See the boy?"

The boy had been walking up a grassy hillside but had stopped near a tree, and now he was kneeling in the shade. When Timothy and the magician drew near, the boy was washing open sores on a leper's legs, comforting an old man lying there -- and apparently near death -- in the shady embrace of a windblown olive tree. A lioness circled in the grass nearby, Timothy saw, waiting for the boy to leave.

The boy stood, looked at the lioness, then at Timothy.

"We must move him. Will you help me?"

"But why? He's near death, what difference will this make." Timothy replied, looking at the oozing wounds on the old man's legs, and then at the lioness. She had stopped pacing and was now staring directly into his eyes.