Chapter Fifty-Two
I know that after you've saved the world you have to get up next day and do it again, but I had a lie-in all the same. I wasn't sure how many hours Adam and I sneaked in the Garden before Irpa had taken Jeremiah and Ros home and let us get back to Kennewick, but we added four or five in realtime, made love, and did some more dozing. But hunger was suggesting breakfast, and a few minutes later Skuffles showed up.
Come on, sleepyheads. The Man's on his way to meet Ol' Manitou River, and there's lots of news.
I'd bet there was, and a shower sounded good, so Adam and I shared one. We had plenty of emotional hangover, and I'd lost several pounds I didn't need to lose, but that was a good excuse for stuffing my face, and we were both so happy with relief nothing else mattered.
"Ding, dong, the witch is dead, Excalibur chopped off his head", I told Adam cheerfully as we dressed. "Um, more sombre colours for today, though. The dark green, maybe?"
"You're asking me for dress advice? But ding, dong, you bet it did, bless its heart." We looked at Excalibur in Ceulydd, propped beside Manannán's Bane against the dresser on which Carnwennan and my Glock rested with Zee's dagger and Thunderbird's feather. "You need new belt-loops, whatever Zee says."
"Yeah." I narrowed my eyes. "But I wasn't feeling the weight, Adam. Some of the magic Zee forged in is … antigrav, somehow. Not tiring its wielder in battle, maybe. I was feeling impact shock but that's eased with sleep. No bruising — just jarred."
"Huh. You'll need to experiment. Where can we put a salle? Or is it called something else for broadswords?"
"Oh hush."
He grinned. "It's going to make for interesting press conferences, love, if you campaign with Excalibur on your belt. You'll get requests to see it, whatever you say."
"Maybe, but I drew a line and I'll hold it. Weapons aren't toys. I'll ask it on Marine Joe's behalf, though. He respects blades."
"Fair enough. And maybe it's sufficiently fae to like being admired."
"Depends who's doing the admiring."
"True. Any headline predictions before we go find out?"
"No. The dark green it is."
It was a flowing dress, loose bodice above a flared skirt in earthy olive, and could swirl nicely but wouldn't be incongruous with what I'd need to say. It would also set off Carnwennan's and Excalibur's hilts, with the embroidery on Ceulydd. I held that thought, wondering if I'd actually cracked colour co-ordination via accessories. Then I laughed, and made Adam laugh by telling him. Saving Manannán's Bane, which I liked twirling, the weapons could stay put for now, as I told them, explaining what we'd be doing later, and we headed down, Skuffles joining us on the stairs.
The Man's car is ten minutes out from the Arch. Coyote has gone to make introductions, grumbling about being a doorbell, but is in a good mood. As is everyone. We lifted a weight from the world yesterday, so it should be quite pushable today. I gave her a look. Well it should. And maybe it likes being pushed successfully? We should think about that.
"If you say so, Ms Skuffles."
Oh hush.
She padded towards the kitchen, and Adam gave me a grin.
"Having two of you around is going to be fun."
"You hush as well" I told him, and walked into a madhouse. Everyone resident plus several pack were surfing amid breakfast debris, the TV showed Coyote working crowds at Gateway Park with Missouri, and Darryl was producing Spanish omelettes. Jesse bounced up with a smile and gave us both hugs.
"Hi, awesome parents. We aced it. Everyone says so."
"Bet your boots, Jesse. It's still too loud in here to hear myself think." Adam's raised voice dialled volume down. "Better, thank you. Darryl, what do Mercy and I need to know?"
"Jesse covered it, Adam. Even the East Coast press had time to write leaders and op-eds at a flying scramble, and it's all good that anyone's seen. Prior preternatural silence is registered, but Bonarata and Hao took care of why we'd do that. The Gray Lords issued a statement confirming everything Mercy said about She of Livorno and Bonarata, welcoming his dismissal as a great deed, and celebrating Excalibur's decision to aid Mercy. Bottom line, Mercy wiped the floor with everyone. Best headline I've seen is the Houston Chronicle — HAUPTMAN ENDS VAMPIRE AND DEBATE — and though TV's more on Ol' Manitou River, that's what everyone's saying. Bookmakers have you 10–1 on to win, Mercy, or better."
He went back to omelettes, and I shuddered, making Jesse grin.
"Awesome where its due, Mom."
"Back atcha, Jesse. You're good? You had some snap answering that pious pacifist last night."
"Yeah. She flicked me on the raw a bit. Firing to kill is …"
"As it should be. Talk to Adam, then anyone here. We've all been there. Did Andrea release my statement about predators coping with tension?"
"Un huh. Jill was tracking that."
"Andrea was right about people being freaked by realising what you've been carrying, Mercy, but what you said is playing well and has been overtaken by a statement from an exasperated Ramona. There were media when the Freed got home, and some Anglo jerk shouted it all had to be a put-up job. Ramona said if he really thought that he was a prime candidate for a Darwin Award, adding there was exactly one being she rated above herself on the Mohs scale and you were it. Went viral fast." Jill grinned. "So there are lots of people explaining the Mohs scale and general consensus that if you're diamond, all of us get Corundum ratings."
I supposed that was good, but Darryl called omelette, and Adam and I split it greedily while catching up. There were vamp and human casualties in more than one nation, European, Asian, and South American, but more sensible if shocky vamps seemed to be co-operating. The Italian government had released a statement saying it had known the villa was Bonarata's and had been liaising with wolves who'd provided data on vamp smuggling, while elegantly regretting he'd been Italian, which grabbed some headlines. So did Russia and China being politely grateful for US briefings and glad of Underhill's assistance with wooden rounds, although how many seethes there might be in their territories was unclear. There were more Mercy the Vampire-Slayer puns than I could count, despite my warning, but I had to concede the CSM's MERCY THE VAMPIRES' PRAYER had some sideways. And the NYT had again done something right. After the day that saw Coyote blow the gaff on how the River Devil was killed, with a bunch of other big things to cover, they'd said in a front-page leader that they imagined they felt pretty much like it had after eating seven Elder Spirits, and repeated the line. Their coverage was divided into sections on Ol' Manitou River, a timeline, vampires, events at Gateway Park, the debate, and a multi-author op-ed, and they'd done well — the timeline got all they knew right, the fight was diagrammed, and sections thoughtful. Vamps' abilities, especially mind control, were a nightmare, but they agreed Senator Stupid had committed political suicide in Gateway Park, and with my help and Hao's done it again during the evening, his epitaph 'very slow and very weak'; and didn't think the Congresswoman who'd jumped ship had done herself any harm. Substantive points I'd made were well-taken, and Adam's and Jesse's contributions assessed. I was skimming the op-ed when the Man de-limo'd with Sawyer, Coyote made another How, Chief Paleface joke, and found it neatly capped.
"How, not-exactly father of She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, and how."
Coyote beamed. "You're learning. Yesterday was special, wasn't it? If only all my children knew what to do with so much spotlight."
"Forgive me for being glad Ms Hauptman's unique, but yeah, you bet. Have you tried Ol' Manitou River on the Grateful Dead?"
It went cheerfully on from there, and I meditatively chewed omelette as we watched Coyote do his dance and howl, and after the stop-rolling-along-for-a-second show greet Ol' Manitou River and tell it a new doorbell-protocol was needed. Then they settled, a male voice repeating mindvoice statements. Time was time and budgets budgets, but there was now a federal Department of the Mississippi Basin, tasked with organising and implementing decisions of the WashU conferences, to be held in the first weeks of June. Who should be Secretary was under review, but the number two would be, ex officio, the Corps of Engineers' Deputy Commanding General for Civil and Emergency Ops, and real money was available, if over years rather than months. He joined the fray. Nitrate fertilisers were trickier, but pressed hard the Man conceded a progressive ban, in return for experiments with silt control and distribution on every tributary and the main stems, meaning individual field inundation, plus magmatic baking of levees to resist erosion and collapse. The Yellowstone magma chamber came up, and Ol' Manitou River spoke about risk parameters but promised to try draining it during the Cascadia 'quake, meaning wide, gently sloping tunnels that would let magma flow anything up to fifty miles before it reached the mantle. River safety, dam removals, increased river freight, and thalweg problems were canvassed. Then they ploughed into racial issues, swiftly agreed they were a toxic mess, and reviewed the framework I'd provided with representatives and governors before deciding there should be a section of the Department tasked with ethnic history, memorialisation, and problem-solving. Coyote shifted to buffalo migration, and after some recalibrating, hauled out his phone. Mine howled at me.
"We've been watching, well-dressed Da. What is it?"
/Question for Manannán's Bane, devastating daughter. Once upon a time, it did healthy twin lambs. How does it feel about healthy twin bison?/
"Pass, but hang on and I'll ask." I laid it across my lap and did, which was not easy. "It's not sure, given bison calves are pretty much always single, but willing to try."
/Good. Let's make that happen sooner than later. Any chance of slow time for calves?/
"No. Forced early breeding is so not on anyone's agenda, even Bison's."
/Point, but ask Manannán's Bane about healthy triplets, then. We need numbers. Gotta go./
He rang off, and I stared at the screen where he was saying breeding numbers would be boosted.
"Mixing magics has gone to his head. I'm all for bison, but no way am I asking ap Lugh if we can pasture them Underhill in slow time."
"With you on that, Mercy." Darryl gave me a welcome hot chocolate. "Though I gather you had some righteous things to say to him yesterday."
"It was one of Ben's score draws, Darryl. And I have a nasty feeling my providing an opportunity to do some house-cleaning was on ap Lugh's agenda from the start, as much as on Wulfe's."
"Huh. Still, you posted another warning as big as that arch. Have to say I thought you were over-definite about so open an attack, but he really did go for flashy symbolism and you nailed him, so it's yours."
"Plus Excalibur." Brent gave a seated bow. "I thought you were out-left-fielding yourself when you went to talk to it, but what do I know? And I still don't understand what it has to do with the duckpond."
"Me either." Jill shrugged. "But it's a nice duckpond, however weird."
"Just file under synergy. Excalibur wanted a … pied-à-terre, I suppose, or au-dessous-de-terre, anyway, with proper locks. I wanted to duckpond Manannán's memory, because that's the triad's theme and I think it's … justly funny. What Underhill really wanted I have no idea, but she was happy with what she got. And what mattered was the magical potential in the incomplete triad because Excalibur used it to get to St Louis, which took a lot more power than I had to spare just then."
There was a ruminative pause before Jill sighed.
"Coyotes. You always make it sound perfectly reasonable when it plainly isn't anything of the sort. But there's no arguing with results. Even Momma was bowled over by your style, and sends congratulations."
"Oh. Well, do thank her for me. And you realise you must now hold the avatar record for speed in changing?"
"Un huh. My fat reserves told me all about that. You burned some too."
"Several pounds, and yeah, I felt them go. Hang on."
It looked as if the Man and Ol' Manitou River were done. Handshaking wasn't practical but they went palm-to-palm, smiling, the Man and Sawyer departed, and Coyote discussed doorbell-alternatives before he vanished. Ol' Manitou River looked pleased, and went to do more meet-and-greet with Missouri. My phone started ringing, and I fielded calls from my Mom, who didn't know what to say but needed to hear I was OK, then a shocked if relieved Jenny, checking on what I'd been told by the St Louis PD before passing the phone to an effervescent Andrea, who said I redefined awesome and shifted smartly to logistics. Everything was sorted with catering and security, the musicians had arrived, and would be playing from about 3. They were as wowed as she was, and presently doing an acoustic backstage jam of 'Dedicated Maxi-me with Attitude', but only had the chorus. WashU had posted a video of Frank's lecture, and hunt photos showing Skuffles, Grizzly Jill, and magmatic Joel had been released, but Mary and Maya had told about a million callers I wasn't doing interviews before tomorrow at the earliest.
"Tell them to submit questions in writing, twenty-five words max, and I'll try to answer any sensible ones. I might use really stupid ones as examples of media inanity."
/Ooh. Will do./
"And thanks for your wisdom about how people would react, Andrea. Making me have that statement ready was way smart."
/Un huh. Though Ramona's Mohs scale has worked better. You are just very tough indeed, however you got that way./ There was affection in her voice. /I know you don't quite get us not getting it, Mercy, but that's because you redefine awesome. It's so much fun and completely terrifying. I can't wait to meet Excalibur, if I may. Dad too. He and Mom are still laughing about Mr Hao playing Toss the Senator, though the instant hypnosis was a nightmare. Are they all that quick at it?/
"No. Hao's very strong. And as you said 'meet' not see, I'll ask Excalibur, but I don't yet know how it feels about being shown off. Legal opinion about Senator Stupid trying to sue Hao?"
/He has grounds, and is stupid enough to try, but he'd have to pack the jury to get more than a token award. Polling says his behaviour at the Park, attempt to call you a liar, and disbelief of that old man all get a near-unanimous thumbs-down, regardless of age or affiliation. No physical injury, and reputational damage squarely his own responsibility. There will be sympathy about hypnosis but as being guinea-pig was the only service he did anyone all day even that's tempered. The Borrowed Warchest is safe, but we should release the list of trustees./
"Go ahead. They knew that would happen."
/Right. And I meant to ask about the old man. There'll be questions about him./
"Bran knew who the wolf was, and he's been contacted. It's complicated because the wolf's a loner who does not want publicity, but a meeting will be set up. What the man and his son say after that is up to them, except no names, which he respected anyway. And do please call him about bright, might, and polite. Adam's got his number."
Adam slid me his phone, I relayed details, and Andrea rang off, letting another call through, and the room went quiet at the ringtone.
"Mr President, sir. How are you today?"
/Very happy, Ms Hauptman, and back in the air heading for Pasco. Your cloak beats Air Force One all hands down on carbon footprint, but the USAF provides superior telecommunications. Officially I'm calling to tell you I'm giving a bunch of governors a ride, with about half your representatives. My Army Engineers had to go back to DC but would like a long conversation with you soon. And as they've added 'redoubtable warrior' to 'actually gets the problem with levees' and 'keeps us in the loop', I warn you they may genuflect when they next see you./
"Well, that'll be embarrassing, but perhaps it's a good time to confess I allowed the Freed's earth fae to create a dwelling on a nameless island in the Yakima Delta that technically belongs to the Corps of Engineers. Medicine Wolf created an access tunnel, and I don't see it needs anyone's permission to reconfigure itself, but saying 'no human camping' doesn't cover fae dwelling is a bit lawyerly. I figured if I had to I could apply to their C.-in-C. for retroactive permission."
The Man hooted laughter. /Yeah, you could do that, and I'll enjoy telling them. Created an access tunnel? How long?/
"Two and some miles, sir. We'd been talking tunnels anyway, with Celilo Falls."
/I imagine you had. What do I care? and today I'd forgive you a lot more than a tunnel for some earth fae, even if it was any of my business. I'm guessing you're pretty antsy with the outpourings of praise, so I won't add to them where valour's concerned. But politics, now./ He laughed again. /An early debate with a still underage independent producing three formal dropouts, a political suicide, and eight clean KOs while the audience took over questioning? I had such a hard time keeping a straight face, despite the gravity. Which reminds me./ His voice sobered. /Death don't have no mercy in your land. I'm still parsing that. Your abbreviated name sometimes packs a hell of a punch, but you denied it was a mercy killing. Anything you can tell me?/
I thought about it amid the silence.
"You saw Lenka, and know the facts. It's not quite what Gary Davis meant, nor Pigpen when he sang it, but it fits. Bonarata couldn't Turn her — there's no known wolf vamp, ever, thank God — but wolf healing meant she survived abuse that would have killed a human, over and over. To be undying can be a crucifixion. Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? Forgive me, but did you kill in Vietnam?"
/I did, in urgent fear of my life./
"Righteously, then, however we shouldn't have been there. I've had to kill before, and it always hurts, as it should. But I am mostly at ease about yesterday. No-one who died could have been saved, except the sleeping vamps, and that's sick but not on me, or anyone except Bonarata and other dust." I shrugged. "More prosaically, having a sometime Alpha's mate as Sauron's toy stuck in every wolf's craw like rancid meat, and I get that second-hand on top of my own revulsion and pity. Bran's never said so but he knew her, I think, while she was her own. A few other wolves I know too, maybe. And it still hurts. Bonarata is not near my conscience, but Lenka will always haunt me. Have you seen my statement to St Louis PD?"
/I have./
"I'd appreciate whatever consular help can be offered in tracing her pack or victims' kin. Bran will have some data but with all the upheavals going on some US diplomatic muscle would be welcome."
/You got it, Ms Hauptman. Two ticks./ I heard him give crisp instructions to someone, and Adam squeezed my hand. /So basically, you were the mercy she needed, because undeath has no mercy?/
"That covers it, sorta."
/Sorta? I don't ask idly, Ms Hauptman./
I glared at the phone, but I didn't think he did. "You're forgetting the grateful dead, no capitals. That's why I'm insisting on burying a body that would otherwise get a pauper's careless grave. Lenka's ghost was there when I closed her eyes and looked as mad as she was. It won't harm anyone, but death can be a notably incomplete mercy in any land, sir. Be glad vamps don't have ghosts. They give those up with their first death."
/Holy God, Ms Hauptman, you just keep making metaphors very uncomfortably real. Is the ghost suffering?/
It was exactly the right question, and made me like him the more.
"Not as such, sir. And it'll fade. I hope. There's no manual for this stuff, and unless someone who sees ghosts and magic was around when She of Livorno was dismissed no-one's ever seen anything resembling what I saw yesterday. But around a null things can always get weird."
/Right. But, no offence, you've said magic works oddly around you too./
"It does, but I'm a magic user. Coyote-ness makes things go sideways. Bonarata was … odd. Surprise, but I've always wondered what Wulfe was about Turning him, and I'd now bet the nullness was wanted against She of Livorno. But who knows what bat-crazy magical crap Wulfe might have built in there? Maybe he meant Bonarata as a receptacle for stolen powers, to sort out what he could use, but Bonarata grabbed them and broke their Turning bond. Either way, he had more magic in him than anyone should, but didn't use it."
/You think he was a Frankenstein's creature?/
"Something like that, but Wulfe would have known what he was doing, though I've never thought him sane. Anyway, sir, what's the not idly bit?"
/St Louis U. want to hold an interfaith service of something at Gateway Park. Missouri likes it, but asked if there was a federal view./
"Something?"
/ Remembrance, Thanksgiving, Exorcism, maybe. You rang their bells with those braided ghosts in their secondary hell, and Lenka Yakovlevna in hers. They want to do something, and services are what priests do./
"Huh. A simple blessing, then. But be very wary of symbolism. If the Arch is Bonarata's tombstone it's pointedly blank, and they really shouldn't try to inscribe it."
/ I get that. But I think a lot of people will go. Including you?/
"Ask me when we know what they're actually going to do, sir. I won't play at contrition."
/ Rightly. But you have put more than vampires among the theologians./
"Un huh. Haven't read the CSM, but I saw the headline and Ostek's organising an interfaith interview with Ol' Manitou River so they can have at it there, and meantime they're taking my word for everything else, so they can accept the only soul involved was Lenka's and her ghost isn't it."
/Maybe. Anything you can say about what ghosts are?/
"Opinions differ, but to me repeaters are an imprint on the world, or spirit world probably, that shows through. Those who died badly are more like an emotional pattern reflecting whatever didn't want its soul to go on. Go figure. Dualism really doesn't work."
/You have that right, Ms Hauptman, but you still have a bunch of distressed theologians. I'll talk to Missouri. You also have a bunch of national leaders wanting any time you can spare. They have been told we've passed on all the data we have, and the Marrok and Gray Lords facilitated contacts with local wolves and half-fae who might know more, but without avatars to see unhappy ghosts there is no effective search mechanism, and they all really, really want one./
"Tough. Avatars only see what's in range, and Eurasia is large. If they can find a great manitou it might be willing, given the situation, to locate seethes. Otherwise they need to put together a deal for vampires that makes outing themselves the desirable path of least resistance."
/ I told them, but I'd be a happier camper if you would too. Conference call tonight or early tomorrow on that fancy system of your husband's?/
I looked at Adam, who shrugged.
"I suppose, Mr President. But I'll need to play this evening by ear, so tomorrow's a better idea. Do they all speak English?"
/Pretty much, but they'll have translators./
"Right. What's the Chinese for No, Mr Chairman, magic really doesn't work like that?"
/His English is OK. Alright, Ms Hauptman. See you mid-afternoon, unless there's anything urgent at your end now?/
"Not that I'm aware of, sir, but I haven't spoken to the AED today."
/I have. Everything is more-or-less under control, dawn having hushed vamps who weren't too shocky to talk anyway. Westfield says those he's seen are truly stunned, and believed Bonarata invulnerable. Some donors in military hospitals, some injuries, but no further deaths or dismissals./
"Good to know, sir. Bonarata had denser ties with the Eastern Seaboard, so they probably felt it more there."
/They felt it everywhere, Ms Hauptman. But yeah, western seethes are generally being more co-operative, because they were more afraid of you before yesterday. You seem to have been very modest about the ones you called Gauntlet Boy and Blackwood. Oh, and Westfield had a tale about Marsilia being exiled to Washington well before it had statehood?/
"That's my understanding, sir. She fed from Lenka to rile him, and succeeded. Yakama records are clear on their arrival but the rest's vamp hearsay. I've wondered if she'll stay now she needn't, but I suspect it's Wulfe's decision and God only knows what that relationship is about."
/ Interesting. An incestuous vamp love-hate triangle. Even de Sade never got that far. And I've got another call./
He rang off and I looked around a silent table.
"He's not wrong, but eeuw. That's a novel I really don't want to read."
Nor did anyone, but wolves had as much ambivalence as I did about a service at Gateway Park. Figuring I'd cross that bridge when I came to it I went back to op-eds, finding them less embarrassing than expected, so maybe I was getting inured. The first had clearly been polished during the day, a political appreciation of framing Ol' Manitou River using geographical and ethnic patterns as well as the grid of states, and the traps I'd sprung on National Committees and rivals. The writer saw that if I wasn't asking great manitous for endorsements, I was getting them anyway by using the new emergence to reveal the incapacity of the two-party system to respond adequately, and agreed with the Man about refuting the barking bigotry show with deeds. Others had equally clearly been written at speed, and each took one strand — brokering alliance, strategy, the European end, She of Livorno and Bonarata, magical weaponry and Excalibur, and whacking senators. The last was by the editor, who said flatly proper analysis was impossible in the time available but was clear I'd changed the rules on everyone.
It is not the shock of learning about vampires, the terrifying images of dismissal and a legendary weapon summoned from thin air, astonishing as those were. It is the revelation, after watching Ms Hauptman closely since her electrifying announcement, of how much and yet how little we saw.
We did see politics being radically reinvented, a strategy fundamentally challenging both main parties, arguments about gun control redefined, the new centrality of the green crisis, mass media righteously rebuked, and the striking educational initiative of Others 101, reinforced by Mr Lafferty and the mesmerising work of Miss Hauptman.
We also saw that for all its seriousness the Hauptman–Lafferty campaign is, frequently and purposefully, very funny.
But until she showed us, we didn't notice that Ms Hauptman had been in contact with a second great manitou and was establishing a complex, sharply practical, sociopolitical response that is staggeringly moral, projecting the radical interspecies hope of the Medicine Wolf Accords onto the worst of our national history and the deepest fault-lines in our polity. And though we heard those shots, saw heavy security, and sometimes remembered to acknowledge Ms Hauptman was bearing up well under what must be great strain, we did not see her playing bait, anticipating assassination attempts, and taking point in an international battle with what I must call evil.
And what was there to notice? Using Ms Taylor and Ms Ligatt to broadcast from home and the domesticity of Ms Hauptman's interview begin to look different. So do oaks that do more than frustrate photographers, the visit by Director Wiseman and AED Westfield, the handling of the hunt last Monday and that photo, and Miss Hauptman's remark about real magical objects being as small as twigs and motes of dust. But no Hauptman, nor any preternatural with them, whom I presume were aware, showed any sign any human saw of the sheer magnitude of the strain they were under.
We saw Ms Hauptman walk up to Medicine Wolf when it woke, and deal superbly with Cantrip's attempted kidnap. We knew she killed the River Devil and Manannán mac Lír, and defeated Guayota. Her immense courage was never in question. But hot-blooded courage in battle and the cold-blooded courage we have seen without knowing it these last weeks are not the same. Very many people agree Ms Hauptman is blindingly cool, and the temptation is to point to that crowded split-second in Gateway Park, Excalibur wielded at terrible need, as a further example. But to know what Ms Hauptman's vaunted cool truly means, look not to the one crowded moment, but to the grindingly crowded weeks before it.
We have not had a warrior-stateswoman since Buffalo Calf Road Woman but we have one now, and it is hard not to believe that today in Gateway Park She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It not only decisively won her battle with Bonarata but swept the election, before a single vote has been cast and irrespective of whom the main parties nominate.
I had mixed feelings, however being aligned with Buffalo Calf Road Woman was flattering, but the focus on having seen without seeing made sense. The shock wasn't just something new, but a sense of having the rug pulled from under the supposedly familiar. Even so, I'd told everyone repeatedly there were any number of things I wasn't telling them, so they just needed to practice the sideways harder. I said so, and Jesse grinned.
"And always will, because you out-sideways everyone. But it's what Ms Zeeman calls anagnorisis — it's already happened, like Oedipus or, whosit, Agave, but no-one knows until wham, and everything turns upside down."
"If you say so, Jesse. Who's Agave?"
"The one who tore her son to bits in a religious frenzy and thought she'd killed a lion."
Other conversation died away.
"Oh, her. I resent any comparison, or with Oedipus, but take the point."
Jesse batted my arm. "Not them, the situations. Though Wulfe and Marsilia are kinda oedipal, except she was his child's lover, so it'd be the other one … Phaedre. No, that was her stepson. Who Turned Marsilia?"
"Bonarata."
"Urk. Sorta inverted Oedipus then, as well as Sauron."
Jill put down her cup. "Jesse, please don't collocate Oedipus and Sauron. It makes my head hurt."
"Sorry, Jill, but Wulfe killing his son and wanting his granddaughter, Bonarata casting off his father and abused daughter, daughter seducing father and grandfather? A trilogy that did She of Livorno killing her parents, Wulfe and Bonarata dismissing her, and Mom dismissing Bonarata would be cool. Who Turned Wulfe? Do you think …?"
"Maybe. I've wondered, Jesse."
"More urk. Talk about down the generations."
"Let's not. We don't need any more Greek tragedies."
"Maybe we do, Mercy." Darryl was half-smiling. "A screenplay based on that could generate a lot of income, and someone's going to do it …"
"Oh hush."
"You could play yourself."
"You want a dominant oh hush, Darryl?"
I could play you, but someone would have to dub my words.
I laughed. "Now that's a much better idea, Skuffles. And it's nearly time to go hear some people who really can play."