From the journal of one Michael Gideon
June 22, 2010 (cont’d)
“The knight who protects your dreams is missing.” I repeated, trying to better understand what madness tasted like, “I think, yes, this is my fault. When I said – you remember a moment ago? I said ‘Speak to me like a small, alien child’ and I think perhaps maybe the concept is just too, well, um, you know, alien.”
I really sound like this? I speak like an idiot. Granted, dream protecting knights being bandied about in adult conversation can throw a guy off, but still.
“Maybe you could just start from the beginning? For us newbies?” I asked Thegan.
“Oh, yes, sorry. You see, we here in Timber Haven, well, mostly in the Village and Old Town, not so much in the city proper, have grown accustomed to having a Knight protecting us as we sleep. He generally shows up in the dream when you’re in the most danger. Most afraid. Some say – though there are others who reject this theory out of hand, allowing that there is no evidence to suggest that it’s anything more than drink-induced hearsay –”Thegan had looked to Mr. Trepp, “but some claim that you can sometimes see the Knight really patrolling, outside of dreams. He’s sometimes seen galloping on a steed. Other times he patrols on foot. I say it’s possible, though I’ve not witnessed an appearance firsthand. Maybe an astral projection of some kind? If I knew whether he showed up as a corporeal presence, I could better decipher – well, look, I think I have some notes here. Let me show you –”
“Ahem. Thegan, I think that Mr. Gideon is finding this particular concept hard enough to grasp without reading any notes on the subject right now.” Lady Nicoline said, bringing Thegan’s attention from his satchel to her, “If he doesn’t mind, maybe we could persuade Mr. Gideon to lunch with us later this week. Parson Leets has been maintaining the barrier quite well I think, considering the absence of the Knight, but perhaps he’ll join us as well.”
“Certainly! The Parson is doing a wonderful job. It was for his benefit that I had wanted to bring the topic up this evening. He’s wearing himself too thin, I think. He could use the help. And we still don’t know the outcome of the Knight. But yes, it could wait until we can explain things to Michael. I’ll arrange everything after the Gathering.”
At this point Mr. Trepp suggested we move along to the third item we were meant to discuss. I remember his excitement, the tone of his voice changing, now that I think about it. Thegan, on the other hand, placed his satchel on his lap and shrunk back into his chair.
“Okay.” Thegan nearly whispered, “We can move along to. . .to what comes next.”
Mr. Trepp stood up. He slowly walked around the table, around all of us, continuing in his excited speech that Timber Haven had been through enough after recent events. That the burden of fixing and maintaining the barrier (I need, Journal, to find out more about whatever this is), especially with an unfamiliar as the Weaver (I remember mentally thanking him for the shot at my abilities even though, you know, I have no idea what they really are) was plenty on their plate. He was more than happy (I’d call it eager) to claim responsibility for this latest problem. Claim it, and take it with him.
Lady Nicoline quietly listened to Mr. Trepp until he finished speaking and sat back down. I noticed that she looked to Thegan from time to time during Mr. Trepp’s speech.
“I see. You wish to take her with you. By rights, she should remain in Timber Haven, but this is a delicate matter, given. . .given the circumstances.” She was looking to Thegan again, who in turn was absently latching and unlatching the satchel in his lap.
“Thegan?”
“I. . .do not ask this of me. I cannot – I will not see her stay here. Salme, look at what she is!” Thegan had tears in his eyes.
“Thegan, things need not be that way. She is merely potential here in Timber Haven. Her path no more decided than –”
“I will not see to her. That is my vote. Let Mr. Trepp take her.” Thegan looked back down to his satchel.
“As you wish. We Three cannot take her either. Our nature would only serve to confuse her, and she is bound to be lost enough as it is. Though we think it an awful idea, I must vote for her to go with who will take her.” Lady Nicoline looked down at the table.
I didn’t like where this had headed. We were talking about a “her”. Who would take her. What to do with her.
“What are you talking about? A person? Look, I don’t know what’s going on now, but –” I started.
Mr. Trepp and Thegan interrupted me. “Leave it alone, son.” Mr. Trepp had said to me, I remember, though he’s still not on the tape. “Please, Michael, you don’t understand.” Thegan pleaded.
Finally, Lady Nicoline stood up, giving little “hush” waves at us to quiet the two of them speaking at once.
“It seems, Mr. Trepp, that you may – ”
“Wait a minute!” I said. Well, yelled, really, “I have a, I have something to say. Or, proclaim, as it were.”
I could see that Lady Nicoline smiled slightly. Mr. Trepp, did not.
“I am serving as a proxy vote for Hurd. . .uh, whatever his last name is. My neighbor, Hurd. Well, his wife Angela, actually. Who should be here to cast this vote themselves, but, for whatever reason, can’t.”
“Michael, don’t do this! Please!” Thegan yelled at me, “You don’t understand! Regardless of what Salme says, she’s evil! Evil is evil, no matter what side of the barrier you’re on! You don’t know what you’d be allowing here!”
I was taken completely off guard by Thegan’s outburst. I thought maybe I should shut my mouth and let things play out as they may. Then I saw Mr. Trepp. He. . .I can’t explain it well here, Journal. With words, I mean. I felt that Mr. Trepp really wanted whoever we were discussing to go with him, and, for reasons I don’t understand, I couldn’t let that happen.
“What is your vote, then, Mr. Gideon?” Salme asked.
“Well, understanding that it’s not mine, but a proxy vote for Angela, I say yes. She can stay in Timber Haven.”
Thegan quickly got up from the table and left Lady Nicoline’s yard. Mr. Trepp leaned a bit back into his chair and nodded my way. I don’t have it recorded, of course, but he said to me: “You seem to be keeping me from conducting my business, Mr. Gideon.”
“We are all finished here, Mr. Trepp.” Lady Nicoline said, “You may return to your hotel now.”
“Don’t I get to stay for the unveiling?” was the last thing I remember Mr. Trepp saying.
“The Gathering is over. Good night, Mr. Trepp.” was all Lady Nicoline said to him as she started cleaning her table off.
Mr. Trepp smiled as he left the yard.
Lady Nicoline reached into the pocket of her dress once we were alone and handed me an envelope.
“And this is our last bit of business to attend to this evening, Mr. Gideon.” she kept talking as I opened the envelope, “I hope you will forgive Thegan’s being upset. It’s understandable, of course.”
“You all have a tendency to speak in riddles, do you know that?” I fumbled with the envelope, trying not to rip whatever was inside, “What is this?”
“Yes, well, some minds prefer dot-to-dot puzzles, I know. Riddles are much more telling though, don’t you think? About the asker of the riddle and the guesser. Any child can connect the dots until they see the picture of a boat or a horse. But a riddle, a good one at any rate, can take you to unknown places as you try and work it out. Parts of your mind that you had never used, or had merely forgotten once you grew up. And what you have there, Mr. Gideon, by way and care of Angela, is the final piece to this particular riddle. But I must warn you, this riddle’s answer leads to more questions, I’m afraid. Go home. Rest. Once you think you’ve got your mind around it, play back the tape you’ve had recording since your arrival and write everything down. I think you’ll find that doing so might help you in your duties as Weaver.”
I was embarrassed about the tape but tried to hide it.
“Yeah, um, what about this Weaver business? What am I supposed to do?” I asked, pulling the note out of the envelope.
“We’ll discuss everything at lunch. Your duties, questions, whatever you like. I’ll leave another note on your door with the particulars, seeing as that seems to work for you. Oh, and Michael? Thank you for the figs. They are my favorite. That Audrey Fell hears everything. Good night.” she said, walking back into the house, her screen door slamming shut behind her.
I looked down at the note. In the little light left to me I could see that it had only one word written on it:
Corabeth.
I read it aloud.
The screen door burst open and a little girl, maybe seven years old, stood before me, her black hair framing her pale white face like a doll’s.
“I’d like to go home now.” she told me.
Lady Nicoline turned her fairytale Christmas lights off.
To date, I’ve praised most of what you’ve written with a general and broad stroke “atta’ boy”… though sometimes my praise has been quite cryptic.
This time I would like to pin point one thing… your dialogue. In just a few short ‘entries’ it has went from pretty good to really good.
Borderline exceptional.
Big Dan compared you to Gaiman at some point. With your setting and dialogue, I feel like it is no insult to say that you might very well be a damn clone of the guy.
In the making anyway.
For those that don’t know who we are refering to, read Neverwhere. Your story and that story are the most closely connected in feel and spirit of all his works. It also happens to be my favorite of his.
And although I just labeled you as a Gaiman clone, you’ve managed to create your own voice and style now, more so than any of your other work.
So keep this up. I’ll keep reading.
Well said , Jeremy. The dialogue IS superb and has kept me on the edge of my seat in this mystery!
My favorite segment from this post:
“Yes, well, some minds prefer dot-to-dot puzzles, I know. Riddles are much more telling though, don’t you think? About the asker of the riddle and the guesser. Any child can connect the dots until they see the picture of a boat or a horse. But a riddle, a good one at any rate, can take you to unknown places as you try and work it out. Parts of your mind that you had never used, or had merely forgotten once you grew up.”
This is the kind of stuff, Mr. Gideon, I enjoyed as a kid while we grew our imaginations together. You know how to dance between the realms of the material and phantasmic with no effort. Brilliant, brilliant!
I love all the parenthetical asides here. The rambling thoughts of Michael as he tries to grasp what’s going on. The first was my favorite, though – “trying to better understand what madness tasted like,” That’s a brilliant phrase.
And creepy kids are the best! Looking forward to seeing how the story unfolds with little Corabeth.
The first 4 paragraphs were a bit confusing, but you got it back with the. “Ahem.”
The paragraph that begins with Tripp standing up is hard a hell to follow. Had to read it three times.
Still very compelling story and interesting dialog. I don’t care for Gaiman, but I like your flow here.