Walk Ins

River only half-hears him. She's whirled, so quickly that she staggers with disorientation and has to catch herself, to stare behind them.

The door has closed. There's nothing there but more New York.

The long stretch of city street, high buildings and the rising smell of hydrocarbons and hot asphalt and crowds of people. Bright blue sky, instead of the Calla's sunset. Car horns blare; Jake is screaming in fury and pounding on the taxi's hood, and Oy is barking, and a street preacher behind them is shouting a rhythmic chanting sermon heavily punctuated with "say GAWD, that's right brotha, I say GAWD-bomb!"

River's still crying, silently now. She pulls the duster around herself, though the day is hot.
I will arise and go now
"No time for this," she whispers, to the air. "Got to keep moving."

But she hasn't moved yet.

From:

"Roland's gone," Anthy observes.
He melted away. You didn't know that he could do that, but he did.
She looks around, though it's debatable how much she sees; her eyes are dazed. "Are we in Maine? I thought it had moose."

Detached, without surprise: "Is that Jake?"

From:

Gone?

*His head whips around, looking for Roland in a panic.*

But.. I didn't... I must've Opened incorrectly, lost him.

*His head swims.*

Ow.

*He takes a few moments more there on the round as the potion does its work. Once he's stable enough, he looks around. This place looks very much like New York City Above.*

We're in New York City, I think. No moose. I hope.

*Slowly he stands up. If Roland's not here, then it's up to him to get River and Anthy home.

Forget them, get yourself home, you can't deal with them in this state. Nor should you.

He pales. The sigil branding he tried in January wasn't technically Dark magic , and it affected him very badly. Whatever was in that cave had been much, much worse. He could handle it. He had to.

Stop it, Tom. You've people to look out for. You're Lord of the House of Arch, and that's what you do.*

Ladies, we need to get you home. I think I can Open to Milliways. In a bit. Not just yet though. Then I'll- I'll try to find Roland.

From:

"East Stoneham, Maine. 1977."

She's still staring down the street.

With a convulsive jerk, she pulls herself away, turning.

Low, "The road's forked. You can't find him now."

Then, something catches her attention, and she casts a startled and wary glance at Jake and the man next to him, a tall man with a priest's notched collar and a wild shock of white hair.

"Got no time for this -- gotta go, they have to move--"

From:

Anthy darts a quick look at River, and starts moving the direction she's indicating: up the street, away from Jake.

"All right."

She's moving slowly, though, uneasily, and trying to avoid the people rushing past on either side. A young man in a business suit shoves past her with an impatient sigh, and Anthy shrinks back.

From:

Where is she going?

*Tom doesn't know Jake.*

What's happening?

*Roland's gone? That can't be right.

If only his head would stop hurting and the ugly voice would be still, he'd be able to think better.

He follows the girls, cleaning the blood from his face and clothes as he goes. Muggles be damned; no one notices anything in New York City.*

From:

For a while, she's just moving, slipping through the crowd. She gets second and third looks, of course -- a girl in an unfashionable coat much too large for her and much too hot for the city summer, her face tear-ravaged and her clothes lightly blood-spattered. The long duster hides the gun on her hip, and we all say thankya, for the cops might not be too keen on that notion.

But she keeps moving, and people may stare but they don't try to speak to her or stop her.

But soon it becomes obvious that she has a goal in mind, consciously or not. The corner, and the crosswalk with its WALK lights blinking white and red, and across the street a skyscraper. Her steps are speeding up.

Tall, and dark, on the corner of Second Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street. Glittering glass and steel, thrusting towards the sky.

Under the roar and blare of traffic, there's a faint hum of singing voices.

From:

No one answers Tom. Anthy's following River, by sound as much as sight; her eyes are on the ground in front of her. There's no unhappiness in her expression, but there's nothing else, either; she's just blank. Subdued. Withdrawn, and silent as River's shadow.

And then --

(once upon a time)

there's a

(miracle)

change in the air, or maybe in the sound of the city. A whisper of

(eternity)

safety; of peace; of joy; of

(something shining)

hope. Of isn't it beautiful? All of it? Of has the sky ever been so blue? Of yes.

And Anthy lifts her head and unconsciously squares her shoulders. There are shadows underneath her eyes, but there's life in them, and wonder.

From:

*On the contrary, Tom's expression and outlook is getting darker and darker as he struggles to keep up with the young gunslinger and Anthy. He feels nothing but chill in his soul. He hears no singing, he feels no peace. His mind is numbed with Black 13.

After all he's done, all he's risked - and not just his life, mind you. His relationship with the one person he loves and cares for most in this world has been strained to the point of breaking over this.

He stops walking and yells in a cold, demanding voice.*

Stop! You'll tell me what's going on and where you're bloody well going, or I'm finding my own way back now.

*It's a bluff. Even in his sorry state, he wouldn't leave them alone.

At least, he doesn't think he would.*

From:

Anthy half-turns to give Tom a look of hurt surprise.

She doesn't say anything, though.

From:

River turns, startled and bewildered.

(voices of the lost)

"It's there," she explains earnestly. "You'll see. You can hear it."

From:

*He is chagrined by both girls' expressions, and he regrets his harsh words.*

Please, I don't know what you're talking about.

And with Roland gone, I-

*You have to get a hold of yourself, Tom. It's nearly done. Just follow a litte while longer and care for them.

He catches up with them.*

Where are we going, then?

From:

"That way," says Anthy, pointing helpfully down the street.

From:

"To the center."
Here is yes
She hurries on towards the crosswalk, casting little urging glances at them every few steps.
Here is you may
Her face is still splotchy and tear-damp, and her eyes are red and puffy, but now she is brightening, starting to smile without realizing it.
Here is the good turn
There's a hum in the air. It sings of memory, of comfort, of childhood joy and friends beloved and a wonderful glowing rightness.

From:

*He gives Anthy a look of "Ha ha very funny." as he walks beside them.

He feels nothing. He hears nothing. The lingering malice of Black 13 is on his heart and mind, crowding out all else.

If he wanted, he could throw it off. He's grown strong over the past year.

There is a secret, cold part of him that doesn't wish for it to go.*

The Tower's in New York City?

From:

River gives him an affectionately exasperated look which is rather marred by the rising joy in it. "Just a building. Can't quantify the physical relationship."
the fortunate meeting
They're at the corner, now. DON'T WALK, says the sign, in glowing crimson, but the light is about to change.
The fever that broke just before dawn
River is fidgeting, wanting to be moving, wanting to be across the street and hurrying through those tall glass doors.

(Here is yes)

"They're twins. It's very Freudian."
and left your blood calm
Her face shines. She keeps glancing back at the tower.

From:

There's a brightness in the air; Anthy's blinking, dazed. Plato would say she looks like someone who's been chained in a cave, watching shadow plays performed before a flickering fire, and only just now released into the sunlight.

Crowley would say she needs sunglasses.

Either way she's hanging back, unsure, and her gaze on River is anxious.

From:

*The light changes and River leads the way across the street, Anthy near her.

Tom hangs back, following reluctantly. He doesn't want to be here. His head aches abominably and he doesn't want to spend time wandering around some stupid building.

His steps get slower and slower as they approach the doors.*

From:

River, on the other hand, is hurrying, nearly running. Her brown coat drags with a whispering rustle on the few steps, and brushes against a glass door.

The lobby is huge, high-ceilinged and airy. River's boots click on the rose-marble tiles as she moves unerringly towards the center of the room.

There's a small plot of earth, there, roped off for formality's sake with wine-red velvet. A profusion of greenery sprouts there -- three dwarf palms, ferns, other green growing things -- but there's only one that matters.

The rose.

Pink, fading at the center to the red of heart's blood. And it sings, oh, it sings

(like a song of angels)

with all the voices of the lost and loved, and their faces swim in the marble tiles. It sings yes, it sings always, it sings

(all shall be well)

hope and joy and peace,

(and all shall be well)

and can ya say hallelujah? Can ya say amen? River's eyes are brilliant and shining as she half-runs towards it.

(and all manner of things shall be well)

From:

And at River's beckoning look -- Come on! there's nothing Anthy can do but follow.

As she steps over the threshold her movements become less careful, less deliberately graceful, and the muscles in her face shift: relaxing around her temples, her eyes -- and when her eyes land on the rose, the tears swimming in them spill over.

Anthy cries silently, without fuss: tears fall, but her face stays composed, and her eyes don't redden.

Now her face twists, her jaw clenches and loosens; there's a tearing sob -- quiet enough not to attract attention, if her crying doesn't -- and her shoulders begin to shake.

From:

*As he walks through the door, Tom stops. Someone bumps into him from behind, muttering about 'stupid tourists,' and he sneers at them before moving aside, towards the corner of the room.

He feels sick, dizzy even, and his headache has worsened abruptly. A cold inner voice whispers,

Get out of here. You have to get out of here, it's not right-- it'll stop you, it's a trap...

Bracing one hand on the wall, he tries to get control of himself, enough to go drag the girls away.*

From:

River is on her knees in front of the rose, the marble cold against her shins -- cool as lemonade on a hot day, because everything is right here, everything is comforting and in balance.

(The world is quiet here)

The rose sings in a thousand thousand voices, vibrating in her blood and bones. Her name is part of the song, one part among uncounted millions but there and audible, and sung with love. I see you very well, it sings, and love you well. It sings in Simon's voice, Roland's voice, Gabriel Tam's and Regan Tam's and Maggie's and more and more beloved and overlapping.

It is the still center of the world.

River is crying again, but with joy this time.

From:

So many voices.

Anthy's not sobbing with joy, but stale grief, and pain, heartache -- everything that's been pushed to the back.

(She feels everything. She can't not)

She's on her knees next to River, now, clumsily wiping tears away with the back of her hand. And as they course down her smudged face -- seconds, minutes, how long? -- the grimace softens, smooths away.

Something's missing.

"I --" Her voice is shaking, but it steadies as she goes on. "River, I don't -- the swords?"

Just a wild rose, dusky pink shading to crimson; just a flower. It's not just a rose. It's shining, it's beauty, and it sings, and it sings, and it's singing, So you've come home; welcome back, dear, and it is says, It doesn't have to hurt forever, and it says, Petals can unfurl; gates can open; wings can spread, and it says, Yes, and it says, For eternity.

Time to wake up.

The tears are slowing, and her gaze on it is very much like the look of someone waking from a dream.

The smile is tentative -- but it's there.

From:

River looks away from the rose long enough to glance at Anthy.

(Here there is yes)

Her face is alight as it never has been, with a wondering joy and a deep, wrenching relief.

(Here there is you may)

"It's quiet," she whispers.

(Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost)

"Doesn't have to hurt." Understanding. Empathizing.

(Here, everything is all right)

It's just a flower.

It means what you think.

It means everything.

From:

*Over by the far wall, Tom's breathing is slightly easier, but he still feels dizzy, weak and nauseated.

The chill that settled over him in the cave hasn't left. He looks toward the girls, and takes a step toward them, then stops again as the pain in his head threatens to wash over him in a wave of agony.*

Anthy. River. Come on, will you? We can't stay here all bloody day.

*It's sharp.*

From:

Anthy turns to River, and something feels odd.
I saw Eternity the other night,
The muscles in her face are lifting in ways they've never known before. It's a smile of joy, of love, of rising hope.
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
"And someday --"
All calm, as it was bright;
She slips her hand into River's, and squeezes, gentle and quick as a kiss.
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
The tears are just a glistening on her cheeks, now. She's smiling too hard to speak, but River hears what she doesn't say. "Now it's my turn. I'll find you -- wait for me?"
Driv'n by the spheres
She lifts the hand to the rose, to the heart of light, the singing, and the blossom dips to meet her, graceful as a dancer.
(Upon a flow'r.)
(the power of Dios)
"This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide,
But for his bride."

Then everything is light.

(shantih shantih shantih)

From:

And the rose sings yes, and the rose sings eternity, and the rose sings all shall be well in the resonating harmonic hum of voices layered like petals.

Anthy's gone.

(melted away)

River's hand is half-raised, the other pressed to her mouth, fingers curled against Death's black handkerchief, still smudged with the dust of another world. She stares at the empty air that a moment ago was a blaze of light and a crescendo of song and a moment before that was Anthy.

(they didn't know she could do that, but she did)

"I promise," she whispers. "It's reciprocal."

From:

*He could care less about some bloody rose, but when he sees Anthy... vanish?

He starts, alarmed and alert and hurries over. He doesn't look at the rose.

He can't.*

Where'd she go? What did that thing do to her?

From:

"Gonna be okay," River says softly.
And the sun rose
She turns to look at him, her face shining. Urging him to share in the joy.
in so many colors it nearly broke my heart
"She'll get better."

From:

*Tom's not feeling very joyous. First Roland and now Anthy. He's bloody well leaving before he loses River - or himself. Someone else can worry with finding them. He's done.

Although he worries about Anthy... she's just a girl.

A girl who feels sorry for basilisks - she'll be fine. GO.*

Come on, I can get us back to Milliways. I think. I just need to get out of this blasted building. I can't think here.

*As he turns, anyone looking at Tom's eyes might see the faintest glimmer of red flash in their depths for a moment. A trick of the light it might be, and nothing more.*

From:

She doesn't move. She's looking faintly worried, now.

But not too much -- the rose is still singing, the building vibrating with it, and she can't think too hard about anything else.

"We can--"

The moment when the idea hits her is visible; happy eagerness blooms in her face. She reaches up as if to tug Tom's sleeve, though she doesn't quite touch him.

"We can leave a note. A sigul. Paper and pen and recording device. It'll stay."

From:

Note? What note?

*He's beyond confused now and verging on irritation, and the loud buzzing in his ears and in his head doesn't help at all.*

What are you talking about?

From:

Patiently, "I haven't left it yet."

"He'll find it. Roland. When he comes."

From:

*He's trying not to be impatient. It's not River's fault he feels so ill.

But it is, isn't it? It was her Academy...

He steps on that inner voice quickly.*

All right. Fine. Leave your note, and let's get moving.

From:

"I don't have paper."

An earnestly pleading look.

"A recording device. Voiceprint identification is more certain and more durable. Her pockets are empty."

From:

Temple and Arch, I'm not a bloody fountain of useful tricks...

*Tom sighs at the look on her face. It's hard to think, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, where one of them encounters something. The sudden look of triumph that passes over his face is not entirely pleasant.*

I've got it.

*He pulls out a small toy, one of Ingress's -- a little plastic horse, white like Megwyn. With a wave of his wand and a muttered word, he Transfigures it into a crystal figurine and hands it to River.*

There. It's a memory crystal. Just hold it in both hands and tell it what message you want it to carry, and that'll do nicely, I should think.

From:

River beams at him, and carefully takes it with both hands, cradling it. She's still holding Death's black handkerchief in one hand, and the figurine sparkles against it.
Take down this book
"Xièxie."
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
She looks back at the rose, for a long moment, and the smile on her face fades to something sweeter and sadder.
Your eyes had once
She curls up again, closer to it, half on the tiles and half on Joe's poncho heaped in front of her, and almost under the claret velvet ropes that surround the rose's garden. Wariness flashes in Tom's eyes, and he takes several steps back, but River barely notices.
For always night and day
She cups the tiny crystal horse in her hands, while around her the
Peace comes
(voices of the lost)
In the bee-loud glade
heart of the world hums in its own perfect harmony.

"Hile, Roland," she says to it softly.

(Here there is always)
Feel like I could have held on
And then she bows her head, and speaks quietly into her cupped hands. Sometimes she pauses; sometimes she looks at the rose again, or at the crystal in her hands, or at nothing. Sometimes she smiles, and sometimes the tears slide from her eyes again, and mostly she does both.
Feel like I really loved you
It's several minutes later that she leans forward, and presses the figurine gently into the soft earth under a spray of bamboo near the rose. Her fingers linger on it, before she lifts them away and sits back, drained.

(Remember who you are, and that I love you.)

Go, then. There are other worlds than these.

From:

*He's practically vibrating with impatience by the time she's done and sets the crystal down. Tom doesn't know how she can stand to be so close to that flower; he can't even look at it properly, as he feels cold and sick when he tries.*

River. Come on. We've got to go. We have to get back.

From:

She looks at him with something like pity.

"You'll feel better," she says softly. "You'll remember."

She stands, clutching the poncho and the handkerchief, with a last reluctant glance at the rose.

From:

*Tom sees the pity, and it's all he can do to keep from turning on his heel and stalking out immediately. How dare she?

The incoherent buzzing in his head is louder, and the throbbing ache is worsening by the second.*

Come on, then.

*Turning, he starts toward the door, although still slowly enough for her to catch up.*

From:

She's moving slowly, with frequent glances over her shoulder.

But she follows.

From: