Lords of Rainbow (22 page)

T
his was the poorer, outer section of the Foreign Quarter, the one that began on the other side of the Fringes Thoroughfare, and spanned in an outer ring the entire City. The Foreign Fringes were almost as dilapidated as the infamous Southern Fringes of the Free Quarter, bordering them from the southeast. Buildings here were worn, several stories tall, dreary with brick and limestone, falling apart in places, and partially abandoned—although never as severely in disrepair as the ones in the Southern Fringes. Scraggly trees dared to show themselves from beyond cracked washed-out walls and tall elderly fences.

Many of the residents here fell under the category of “scum,” as the richer folk and nobles would say. And yet, just as many were but honestly poor. They looked out with tired eyes from the windows of their elderly houses. They walked the streets with bent heads and bent backs. Eyes rarely met, except in briefest human contact.

Streets here were wide and paved, however, because not only the Fringe natives walked them.

This was the home of the Merchants Quarter. Richly dressed figures would flash from the windows of frequent speeding carriages. And it could be observed that some carriages even bore on them the Crests of the Noble Ten, for even they of noble blood occasionally held in check their fastidiousness to pay a business visit to some member of the Merchant Guild. Thus, a conveyance would stop before some storefront, a noble would alight, and then quickly disappear into one of the tall buildings, worn and old on the outside.

And yet—who knows, who really knows—some of these outwardly dilapidated houses contained in them stores of rich materials brought here from far places.

And the tall houses all around had eyes, very attentive eyes indeed, as the poor residents would watch the figures dressed in finery.

In their little dirty room, three such poor beings—two urchins and their mother (a woman of twenty years who looked like an old hag from having drudged all her life)—observed the gray street below. The little girl leaned with her grimy elbows against the soot of the window-pane.

“
Ooh!” she mouthed. “Look at tha’ one. Ma, look!”

The young hag-mother stood by the window, knitting out of habit, even on her feet. “Yes, that’s a fine one there,” she said complacently, as her index finger guided the coarse yarn, and the wooden needles flashed with speed.

Three stories down, on the street below, a fine carriage indeed had paused before the house across the street from them. This time, the little boy sucked in his breath in wonder. Three overlapped Crescents of Lirr graced the sides of the equipage in fine etched relief upon dull gleaming metal. The horses were fine-limbed, elegant, dark like the night.

“
Who might tha’ be?” said the girl. “Who, Ma?”

“
Don’t you know anything?” said the boy. “That’s Lirr, of Gold. That Symbol there, remember? How many times did I explain all the Symbols to you that you still have to ask, brickhead?”

“
Brickhead yourself, stupid!”

“
Double brickhead on you, mole-face, rat-hair! You’re just too damn stupid, aren’t you?”

“
Ma-a-a-ah!” The girl began to whine.

“
Sh-h-h,” said the mother, completely ignoring it all. “Look! Look at that one, the one that’s coming out.”

And for a moment, her glassy exhausted eyes were invigorated by a memory, and gained focus. She paused her knitting. “Yes . . .” she said. “Look carefully at this one, both of you. You’ll never see one like that again.”

“
Who is he, Ma?” said the boy, watching a tall elegant figure emerge from the equipage. “He looks rich and fine, is he a great lord?”

“
Not
he
,” the woman said very softly, and a smile grew on her lips. “No, that one is not a
he
.”

“
Not a he?” The girl turned to stare back at her mother in surprise. “You mean tha’ fancy man with a sword showing at his side is not a man but a
woman?
Ooh!”

“
No,” said the mother, after an odd pause. “Not a
woman
either.”

“
Hah!” the boy snorted, scrunched up his face in a suddenly cynical streetwise grin, like someone considerably older. “I know what you mean then, Ma. He’s a boy’s man, ain’t he? He likes boys, right? Got his berries clipped? Or, maybe that’s a fine lady-wench that likes girls, and likes to dress up as a grown man, eh, Ma? See, I know all about that.”

The woman continued staring out the window, watching the graceful cloaked noble—for all appearances, a man—smooth out the cloak with bejeweled gloved hands, then head for the storefront entrance. And she softly, negatively shook her head.

“
And not even
that
,” she said. “That
one
is not what you think, a eunuch, nor a boy-lover, nor a woman who loves other women.
That
is neither man nor woman.”

The little girl’s expression was totally uncomprehending, wide-eyed, while the boy’s brow narrowed in confusion.

“
What do you mean?” he snorted. “Are you trying to kid me, Ma? If it ain’t a man and ain’t a woman, what else’s left?”

The woman took a deep breath, letting memories rush to her, seeing herself back
then
, a face in the crowd.

“
I have seen that
one
once before, long ago,” she said. “That is Carliserall Lirr. They call that one the Phoenix, because of the Gold of Lirr. And Carliserall is neither a man nor a woman. No one knows
which
that
one
is.”

“
But—how can that be?” breathed the boy, suddenly innocent as his true age. “Tell us!”

“
I will tell you of Carliserall Lirr, then,” continued the woman. “For that is one mystery in this world that is so well obscured, so hidden, that no one will ever solve it and live to tell about it.

“
No one knows, children, what Carliserall Lirr truly is. One day Carliserall is a man—like today. And as you can see, Carliserall makes a fine man, for all appearances. Truly, you would never doubt it, unless you know.”

“
Know what?” exclaimed the boy.

“
Hush, wait. Carliserall, they say, on the day that
it
chooses to appear as a man, does so.
He
then is even known to love a woman properly. . . . Now, on
other
days, they say, Carliserall chooses to appear as a woman, dressing like one, styling the hair in a feminine manner, even wearing a revealing décolleté which shows a woman’s breast—”

“
Then it’s gotta be a woman!” cried the boy. “No man I heard of can pretend
that!
” And he laughed crudely.

“
Wait, listen! On the days when Carliserall is a woman,
she
flirts and makes love to men. And yet, I’ve heard, when Carliserall is a man,
he
had once loved a woman, and a result, the woman had borne a baby son!”

“
From some other real man, no doubt!” said the boy. “Nah, I still don’t believe this. It’s gotta be a woman!”

His mother tiredly shook her head. “I’ll not argue with you, think what you will, boy. But I’ll just tell you that according to folks who’re a hundred times better ‘n smarter than us, folks who’d tried to find out in many ways, even men and women who’d claimed to have bodily
loved
this Carliserall Lirr—they all say different things! And you know what? They all swear to have real proof!”

In the meantime, angry voices arose from the street below. Another carriage—this one dark and unmarked—stopped before the storefront. Liveried servants of the House Lirr who attended Carliserall’s carriage with an attitude of bored insolence started an altercation with the attendants of the other equipage. Supposedly, it was blocking their path.

The others, in turn, began yelling that it was Lirr that blocked their path. And besides, the Lirr carriage wasn’t going anywhere at the moment while the high and mighty lord was inside the building.

“
Who’s your master anyway?” cried one of the attendants of the other carriage. “Is he man enough to hold back his own, to give you what’s best deserved, a good whippin’?”

“
Our master, Carliserall Lirr, knows what’s best to be done with rabid scum like you.”

“
Oh, it’s the Phoenix, is it? You mean
mistress
, then! Well, we don’t want to disturb any
ladies
now! So
very
sorry!”

The servants of Lirr were by now well used to such taunts. Their answer was cool, bored, impeccable:

“
Our master Carliserall,
who is man today
, will deal with you shortly. And now, out of our way, begone, scum!”

Exaggerated neighing laughter came from the servants of the unmarked carriage. “O-o-o-oh! O-o-o-oh! We’re so scared!” they cried, cringing in mock terror, and gesturing phallic obscenities at Lirr.

In that instant, the tall figure of Carliserall strode quickly from the building.

“
Here
it
comes!” cried someone, “Here
it
comes, the Phoenix whore!” And they waited to see what Carliserall would answer.

Three stories above, the three who watched also waited.

Carliserall, tall, cloaked, with hair that was magnificent, metallic-fire in the gray sun, and elfin beautiful features, paused only for a moment before ascending the carriage. Carliserall’s eyes stopped to rest on the one whose insult was heard last. Such pale lodestones, those eyes. . . . And on the lips, a flicker of a smile.

Never once did Carliserall blink. And the footman averted his gaze first. The man had to look away, because to meet the honest intensity of those clear eyes took far more manliness than he could muster.

Well?
those eyes seemed to speak.
Now that I look at you, now what?

And as the footman pondered that wordless question that he thought he saw there, that radiant look, Carliserall—lithe and strong as a leopard—was gone inside the carriage.

Never was anything spoken, not a word.

The Lirr carriage was moving, was gone.

The attendants of the unmarked equipage remained silent. They had been moved to silence because it had seemed to them all, as Carliserall had passed, that a sense of justice passed also, a rightness. A charm was now upon them, making them unable to mock, only to let things be.

In the small window, three floors above, the boy continued to stare, as the mother, knitting, turned away, and the little girl also.

“
How—beautiful that Carliserall was, Ma,” he whispered. “Did you see, Ma, those strange eyes? What a great fine lord—or whatever
it
was.”

“
Yes,” said the woman with a brief note of sadness, then apathy, “I saw the eyes . . . again.” And she spoke nothing more.

“
I feel sorry for
it
, Ma!” said the little girl suddenly. “Neither man nor woman—no matter how beautiful, I wouldn’t wanna be like tha’! And I’m scared, Ma! I’m scared of
it!
”

But the mother silently continued her task, seemingly forgetting what they had just witnessed. And after a little while, the girl forgot too, and went to play in her grubby corner.

Only the boy continued to stand at the window and watch. Unlike his sister, he had seen the lodestone eyes of the Phoenix, and like all the rest, would never now forget.

While far away, in the quickly moving carriage that bore the Crescents of Lirr, Carliserall, sitting alone, also could not forget.

The same mocking taunts, no matter where. They were the only eternal companions. To these taunts, Carliserall had learned to show the same awful light flickering smile. And always, a direct look.

Nothing less, nothing more. And because it was so direct, it also appeared ambiguous. No matter what, it will always appear thus to all of these
others
, they who would never leave Carliserall alone.

And yet, despite all, Carliserall never pretended, and always offered them the same truth. It might have been the truth of the moment, but it was truth nevertheless.

Truth of a man, truth of a woman.

CHAPTER 9

Postulate Twelve: Rainbow is a State of Mind.

* * *

S
omewhere in the secret womb of Tronaelend-Lis—not
Dirvan
, but the womb which rests within the confines of the Light Guild and is sometimes called the Inner City—somewhere existed a large cold chamber of pale grays, dun silvers and flickering shadows. The room was airy and chill, bare of adornment, and ironically, unlit by any sorcerous
color
monochromes, only by the dying steel sunset.

Silhouetted against the sunset were three forms, three men of singular power and bearing.

Present among them was the Guildmaster of the Assassin Guild, the infernal Bilhaar. Also within this company of three was a Minister of the Regents. And one of the three was the Guildmaster of the Light Guild himself.

Two of these were diplomats of the highest class.

One was of a class outside diplomacy.

Two of these hated the Grelias with a dispassionate intensity that would put all of the eloquent Caexis vitriol to shame.