Kalpa Imperial (26 page)

Next night The Cat sang again, and the soldier accompanied him on the serel, and even sang a couple of verses along with him.

“I’ve never traveled with a caravan this cheerful,” one merchant said.

“I’ve been with some,” said Pfalbuss, “where you’d think everybody was born deaf and dumb, and we couldn’t wait for it to get dark so we could sleep.”

“Whereas the twentier has to tell us it’s bedtime,” said another, “as if we were children.”

“More like a party than a caravan,” said another.

“We’re all for parties,” said one of the younger merchants.

“Let’s be serious,” said The Cat. “Somebody tell a sad story, a really really sad story.” He looked at the silk dealer.

“I don’t know any stories,” she said. “I’m just a businesswoman.”

“Daddy,” said The Cat, “won’t you tell us a really really sad story?”

“There’s sadness enough in store for us,” said a merchant named Nayidemoub.

“There’s always hope,” said another.

“Louwantes was a good emperor,” sighed Bolbaumis.

“Yes, he was,” Nayidemoub said, “but if his nephew succeeds him, we’re in trouble.”

“Who says so?” another man asked. “Maybe he’ll turn out well too.”

“Ha!” from fat Bolbaumis.

“Look at the bright side,” the merchant insisted. “Why not? You never can tell how a man may turn out.”

“Ha!”

“And it could be,” the merchant went on, “he won’t even succeed to the throne.”

“Let’s hope not!” said Nayidemoub.

“Bedtime,” said old Z’Ydagg.

The sun tormented them all next day. And thirst, too; the next well was a long way yet, so the old man rationed the water. Even The Cat looked discouraged. Mistress Assyi’Duzmaül kept watching him, and in the afternoon she called him. “I’m not thirsty,” she said, “not at all. When we can drink, you can have my share.”

“Oh, no, no,” The Cat said, but the woman insisted. Maybe the boy reminds her of one of her seven, the twentier thought, and then maybe not. What does she want with the boy, a woman her age, all right, not that old, but old enough to be his mother—what does she want with him? He’s young, almost a kid still, his voice hasn’t even finished changing. Does she want to buy him for her bed? Would he let himself be bought? No, come on, why would he sell himself, a kid that’ll have any woman he wants when he wants them. But if she offers him a lot of money? How much would it take? I don’t like that woman. I don’t trust her.

Night came at last and the cold wind blew from the northern mountains and the animals bowed their necks and huddled up in a corner of the corral for shelter, and the men sat around the fire, ate, drank, drank coffee; and the guard put his hand on the sack that held his serel.

“I don’t like the desert,” said one of the merchants.

“Who does?” said another. “Nobody.”

“Daddy Z’Ydagg does,” said The Cat. “He does. He likes all of it, isn’t that right, daddy?”

“The world is the way it is,” the old man said.

“Why?”

“Be quiet, boy,” said Bolbaumis. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“It’s not a stupid question,” the woman said, “it’s a wise one. And I’ll answer it, son: The world is the way it is because men are mad.”

“Could be,” said Nayidemoub, “but you have to admit men have done some good things too.”

“She didn’t say foolish, she said mad,” said The Cat. “Madness can do bad things and good things.”

“Listen, young philosopher,” Bolbaumis said, “is there any more coffee?”

“I’ll make some more in a moment, boss. But, daddy, men didn’t make the desert.”

“No,” the old man said.

“Who did make the desert, anyway?”

“It came with the rest of the world.”

“And who made the world?” asked The Cat.

“That’s a long story.”

The soldier took his hand off the sack that held his serel.

“Before the world there was nothing,” Z’Ydagg said.

“Was it really dark and scary?” asked The Cat.

“It wasn’t dark because it wasn’t anything, and if there isn’t anything there can’t be darkness, stupid boy,” said the old man. “And there wasn’t anybody to be scared. It wasn’t silent, either, because if there isn’t anything, there isn’t even silence. And since there wasn’t silence all the sounds and noises that hadn’t been made yet could be heard. And since there wasn’t darkness all the things that hadn’t begun to exist could be seen. Because there was nothing, everything that was going to be in the world when there was a world could be without being.”

The Cat served out the coffee.

“You’re very wise, daddy,” he said. “Won’t you tell us how it all started being?”

He’s making fun of me, the old man thought. Or is he? Or am I getting suspicious, like a cook, like some old woman peering out from behind her shutters?

“That’s easy,” he said aloud. “Everything that could be seen and everything that could be heard because there wasn’t any darkness or silence, was all packed up together, because before the world was, there wasn’t anything, not even space. And since there wasn’t any time, everything joined and stuck together and melted together, and the same way those many-colored wheels on a stall at a fair go round and round till all the colors make white, so everything that was before the world was stuck together and made an eye.”

“What color was the eye?” asked The Cat, who was sitting in front of the old man.

“No color, because it was all colors,” the twentier said. “It was a round eye, with a very thick lens, and it had just one eyelid around it, black, round, hard, opaque. And out of this eye came a tiny speck of dust that got bigger and bigger, and then the eye saw that pinch of dust turn into a house.”

The night wind whistled over the desert and the men drew in a little closer to listen to Z’Ydagg.

“It was a house of dark wood, with a lot of rooms and a balcony,” said the old man, “and there was a man in every room, but on the balcony there was a woman. And the house was called
saloon
.”

“
Saloon?
” said The Cat.

“Don’t interrupt, snotnose,” said Bolbaumis.

“Now, when the house called
saloon
was finished, with the men and the woman and all the furniture, another speck of dust came out of the eye and grew till it was another house.”

“And what was it called?” Bolbaumis asked.

“Don’t interrupt, fatty,” said The Cat, grinning.

“The second house was called
the charge of the light brigade
,” said the old man, “and it had a lot of rooms too, but it had a lot of men and women in them. But none as beautiful as the woman in the house called
saloon
was. She was so beautiful that the men of the house called
the charge of the light brigade
saw her once and never could stop thinking of her and dreamed of her night and day. But there was one of them who was so deeply in love with the beautiful woman that he wanted to abduct her. This man was called Kirdaglass and since he didn’t know what the woman’s real name was he called her Marillín. Kirdaglass built a ship and sailed through the air and went after the woman he called Marillín and carried her off and brought her back to his house with him. Then the men of the house called
saloon
built a thousand ships and to insult their enemies they named the ships after the women of the house called
the charge of the light brigade
and painted the names in shining letters on the round prow of each boat: Marlenditrij, Betedeivis, Martincarol, Maripícfor, Avagarner, Tedabara, Loretaiún, Briyibardó, Jedilamar, and a thousand more. With these ships named for the enemy’s women, the men of the house called
saloon
sailed through the air to the house called
the charge of the light brigade
to rescue the woman called Marillín abducted from them by the man who loved her so much. Among those who sailed the thousand ships was a very brave man called Alendelón, and a wise one called Clargueibl, and another called Yeimsdín who was the one who wanted most of all to rescue the beautiful woman. In their thousand ships they sailed across the air and laid siege to the other house. But now time existed, since men and houses and women and ships existed, and so the siege lasted for twenty years. And for twenty years the men of the two houses were at war. The chief of the house called
the charge of the light brigade
, whose name was Orsonuéls, which means the great bear, organized the defense, and said that if one of his sons had abducted a woman, then the woman belonged to him because he’d been so brave and fearless. Then Alendelón challenged Kirdaglass to a duel, but he was in bed enjoying himself with the woman called Marillín and didn’t bother going out to fight. The others did, though, they went on fighting and killing one another until there were hardly any men left on either side. Meanwhile other little specks of dust had been coming out of the eye and and turned into a lot of other houses with men and women in them. One house was called
dosmiluno
and another
rosadeabolengo
and another
alahoraseñalada
and
elmuelledelasbrumas
and
rashomon
and
puertadelilas
and
elañopasadoenmarienbad
and
lahoradelobo
and so on and so on. When almost twenty years had passed since the beginning of the siege, Kirdaglass came out at last to fight, and Yangabén, Alendelón’s best friend, killed him with a poisoned arrow. Then Marillín married another son of Orsonuéls named Yonyilber, but soon, thanks to a ruse conceived by the wily Clargueible, who had had a great bear made out of wood and offered it as a gift to the besieged, the besiegers were able to enter the house, hidden inside the gigantic animal. So it was that they could set fire to the house called
the charge of the light brigade
and take back the woman and take Orsonuéls captive, and his wife Dorotilamur and his sons and daughters. The woman called Marillín married Yeimsdín and they had a lot of children and both of them lived happily ever after, till they died at a hundred and twenty. But one of the heroes who had sailed across the air in search of the abducted woman and had fought bravely through the long years of the siege, was lost with his ship. The wily Clargueibl was returning like the others to the house called saloon when he heard sweet voices singing that drew him irresistibly. They were the ringostars, beautiful, evil, voracious beings who used their magic voices to enchant all who heard them and attract passing sailors. Clargueibl and his crew stopped to listen and so were captured by the ringostars. One of these beings was a powerful witch called Monalisa whose smile turned men into pigs. This is what happened to Clargueibl and his men, and the ringostars shut them up in a pigsty and fattened them up until they started eating them one by one. But Clargueibl, who even as a pig kept his cunning wits, persuaded one of the pig keepers, the giant Gualdisnei, to let him live just a few days longer because he felt ill and anybody who ate him might catch his disease and then the others would punish the pig keepers for sending unhealthy food to the table. When the giant bent down to look at him more closely, Calrgueibl bit him in the neck with his pig teeth, and by drinking his blood became once again the gallant warrior he had been. Then he stuffed mud in his ears so as not to hear the song of the ringostars, stole a ship, and set off straight home. There everyone thought he was dead, and the eldest daughter of Yeimsdín and Marillín, whose parents had promised to marry her to Clargueibl when the hero returned, was on the point of marrying one of her many suitors, a silly little man named Samuelgolduin. On the day of the wedding, Clargueibl arrived disguised as a beggar, and no one knew him but his old dog Rintintín, who barked with joy at seeing him. Clargueibl came forward, weapons in hand, to the bridal couple, killed Samuelgolduin, made himself known, and married the lovely Vivianlig, with whom he went to live in another house which they named
gone with the wind
after all the adventures that lay behind them. They lived long and happily and their sons and daughters spread out across the world that now existed, formed by all the things that had come out of the eye.”

“And the eye?” asked The Cat. “Where is the eye?”

“Somewhere,” the old man said. “It’s somewhere. But it’s very hard to see.”

“Did more dust specks come out of the eye?” The Cat wanted to know. “And will any more come out? And how can they?”

“I wish a doctor who can work miracles would come out of the eye now,” said Nayidemoub, “one who could miraculously cure the daughter of the the dead emperor.”

“She isn’t sick,” said one of the merchants. “She’s dead too. She must be.”

“Oh, don’t say that, man,” fat Bolbaumis pleaded, “don’t say that!”

“How could she be dead, when the regent says—” The Cat began, but the fat man interrupted him: “The regent! Faugh! Ten thousand curses on the day that viper was born!”