Chapter #100The Funeral by: imaj   Your suit is uncomfortable.
You flex your shoulders, trying to shift them into a position where you don’t need to stoop slightly for it to fit properly. The fabric itches and it rides up in places you never suspected it could. It’s a puzzle: Every other item of clothing Fyodor has given you has fitted perfectly and exactly. Yet the suit is somehow just off. Maybe all suits are uncomfortable, you think, or maybe all funerals are uncomfortable.
It’s been a week since Margaret passed away. Kali and Fyodor have been busy arranging the funeral and other matters, so what little training you have done has been with Rick. No one is going anywhere until the after the funeral and a part of you has wanted it over and done with so you can move onto the next stag of your training.
Yet now that it’s almost here, you feel apprehensive.
“Pshaw Will,” says Kali, fussing at your collar. “Where did you learn to tie a tie?”
“Hmm,” you mutter. Your attention is focussed on the pitter-pattering rain on your bedroom window rather than her. “Oh… um… I don’t usually wear one.” You stand patiently while Kali fixes your tie. “Are there going to be a lot of people there,” you ask nervously.
Kali looks thoughtful. “Just Stellae,” she says finishing your tie. “Those that can travel here. Charles of course. Margaret outlived her family.”
“Frank and Joe,” you ask hopefully.
“In Saratoga Falls looking for Professor Blackwell,” replies Kali. “Come on, we had better go.”
*****
The sun has come back out by the time you return to Margaret’s house after the funeral. You watch as small group of mourners talk, and laugh and sometimes cry, in the garden. The air has that after the rain feel to it that makes it seem refreshing and the garden’s colour seems only to be enhanced by the wetness.
Yet you feel terribly alone.
Kali is about the closest thing Margaret had to family, so she is drifting about the garden, talking to the mourners and thanking each for coming. Though it’s clear she has been crying earlier, she’s smiling now as she makes her way from one guest to the next. She’s too busy to talk to you right now.
Fyodor is talking to one of the guests too, but unlike Kali he isn’t moving between them. The mourner talking to Fyodor is another old man, with silvery hair and a ruddy complexion. He’s small, and next to Fyodor he’s tiny. They converse in low murmurs that are impossible to understand. You wonder for a second who he must be that he can hold Fyodor’s attention rapt for so long.
As for Rick, well he’s nowhere to be seen. The last time you saw him was this morning, just before you left for the funeral. He muttered something about “not doing funerals” before stalking out the door without so much as a good bye.
You sigh and take a slug of your drink.
“Hey brother,” says one of the mourners walking over to you. Like you, he’s in an ill-fitting black suit and tie, somehow making it scruffy looking. The weird thing is, he pulls the look off well. “Hal,” he adds, shoving his hand out at you. He realises he’s used the wrong hand and takes a second to pass his beer bottle about before trying again. “Hal Swann.” You shake his hand silently. “You must be Will Prescott.”
“How do you know who I am,” you ask, a little surprised.
“What, you think the people don’t talk to each other,” he grins maniacally. “Fyodor told me about you. Besides, we’re a small movement, what you see here is about half of us. You’re the only person I didn’t recognise on sight.”
“You know everyone here,” you ask.
“Sure,” he replies. He points at a statuesque blond, fully six foot in height and built like she should be wearing a horned helmet and taking dead warriors to their afterlife. “Hilda Gunnarson, Europe’s answer to Miko Toyotomi. Malacandra and…”
“Perelandra,” you interrupt. “Her face has the same ageless look that Kali’s does.”
“Ah, got you,” replies Hal. “Yeah, Perelandra. The kid hanging onto her is her ward Malaika Mbulu.” He shifts his attention to two elderly men standing stiffly next to each other. One tall, with a mop of grey hair and oversized glasses. The other is shorter, with a middle eastern complexion and a bushy black beard streaked with white. “That pair of cantankerous bastards is Father Ed and Imam el-Bayoumi,” he whispers to you. “Lurgae, both of them. They’ll be our confessors now that Margaret is gone.”
Hal sighs wistfully as he turns his attention to the young woman Kali is talking to. “The Brazilian bombshell is Maria Cardozo, as tempestuous as she is beautiful.” He catches himself. “I mean she’s a fine sister and vitally important to our movement.” Hal blushes and you can’t help but snigger. “Perelandra and Eldibria… uh… obviously.”
“Now, over by Fyodor,” Hal continues. “Is… oh bloody hell…” Fyodor and his companion are coming over to you now. They grin at you and Hal as they approach.
“Hal,” says Fyodor, putting his arm round your new friend. “Come with me my friend.” You would swear that you could see Hal grimacing, crushed by Fyodor’s bear like hug. Fyodor steers Hal effortlessly away leaving you alone with the other old man.
“It’s good to finally get a chance to talk to you Will,” says the old man, stressing the word you as if it’s some private joke.
You recognise the voice though. “Charles,” you murmur before stopping yourself. “I mean, uh… sir.”
“Relax son,” replies the leader of the Stellae Errantes with an easy smile. “You know, I think this is both the first and third time we’ve talked.” He’s right, in a way. The first time you met was in your dreams, where you were the Moon and he was the King of Planets. The second time you talked to him, you were stuck as Kali. This is the first time you’ve talked to Charles as yourself. “Fyodor was telling me how much you impressed him during the business with the rowing team cultists.”
“Thank you sir,” you say hesitantly.
“What’d you think son,” he asks. “Do you think you and Rick and Fyodor made a good team out there?”
“Well sir,” you begin. Why did he ask the question? “Rick and Fyodor did very well, but I made a couple of stupid mistakes along the way. I let myself get drugged and abducted in the first place…”
“Which you managed to escape from,” interrupts Charles.
“I did sir, but I also nearly got myself caught again along the way because I wasn’t being careful enough.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself Will son,” replies Charles. “No one expects you to be a perfect field agent already.”
“Thank you sir,” you say again. “But… Well the really big mistake was not catching the cult leader with knockout sigil. If I’d managed that, Rick wouldn’t have had to kill him.”
He looks at you appraisingly. “Kali tells me she still hasn’t got the problem of your second ousiarch licked yet.” You nod in the affirmative. “You should come out to Olympia sometime and we’ll see if we can’t get it tied down.”
“Uh… thank you. You mean, like now?”
He laughs warmly. “Once Kali thinks you’re ready,” he answers. “I hear Rick has one last test for you, but that’s for another day. You should meet some of the others today.”
*****
“Hal,” you say quietly, giving him a gentle shake by the arm. There’s no response. It looks like he’s fallen asleep at the kitchen table. An empty bottle topples from his hand and he starts snoring loudly.
Maybe you should be getting to your bed. It’s late and everyone else has left already. You are about to stand up when Rick walks into the kitchen.
“Squirt,” he says, giving you a nod of acknowledgement.
“Rick,” you reply. “Where did you get to?”
“I told you, I don’t do funerals,” he answers.
“I got to meet a lot of the Stellae,” you tell him enthusiastically.
“What, like Rube Goldberg here,” he answers, searching through the cupboards. He pulls out a bottle and glass tumbler before sitting opposite you. “You’ll probably end up working with a lot of them anyway.”
“Charles said something about working out my other ousiarch at Olympia,” you add.
“Eh?” says Rick, pouring himself a drink. “That makes sense I guess. Did he say when?”
“When Kali says I’m ready,” you answer. “He also said you had a test for me.”
Rick frowns unhappily. “I was gonnna spring it on you tomorrow, but… ah hell… Yeah, I want you to get back to America by yourself.”
“What,” you stutter. “You mean…”
“Yeah, get on the plane and through border control without anyone noticing. No stealing to do it either.” It sounds like a tough task, but you think you’re up to it now. “You know what squirt, I’ll throw in something extra to make it more interesting: Drop by Saratoga Falls on the way back and pick up the kid and the cadet’s imago without them knowing. I’ll forget about the money you owe me.”
“You mean Frank and Joe,” you ask. Rick nods. “I told you, I’m not taking imago that I don’t need anymore,” you explain primly.
Rick shrugs. “I’d say you need them. Kid’s got a good bedroom face and the cadet is much more of a brawler than Miko. You’d have got that Warlock if you’d used the cadet’s face rather than hers. Remember how you filled in for Kali? You might need to do that for the boys some day too.”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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