Coriander

He saw us coming from a mile away. Poor Coriander. He knows what we want from him, and I know what he wants from me. Let us just say that his will is not entirely his own anymore. Let's just say he is a creature of habit. I let Sobek take us to him; he had the power to hold us in Coriander's place even if Coriander wished us gone. And he will wish us gone as soon as he hears what I'm after.

Coriander was a Greek mapmaker once. Now he's a real Mapmaker, the kind of thing he wanted when he didn't know any better, when he lived the true life. Now he lives in a place on the edge of all the maps, the place where they write "Here be Dragons" and this place is difficult to get to if you don't have the knack or someone with the knack to take you. Once Coriander became a Mapmaker, he removed himself to this place where he could live in peace and make his maps, seeing everywhere and nowhere and a few places I'll never be privy to--Valhalla and black holes. His house appeared to be a hut set amongst rocks and scrubby shrubs, with a path twirling around to a garden in the back. I wonder who tends the garden? It was beginning to get dark.

There he stood, my Coriander once, looking careworn but still handsome. Sailors have always been a particular vice of mine. "Good eve to you, Coriander." Neutral voice.

He looked out into the yard, dark face impassive but his knuckles gave him away; the map he held was his lifeline. He wanted so badly to go back in his house, away from the crocodile. Sorry Cor.

"I don't want to help you. Make the beast go away. You didn't need him then, you don't need him now." He turned back into his house then, door open.

"If you don't mind?" I guestured to the black pool and large flat stone which had appeared while Cor and I spoke, and Sobek shrugged and took himself to sun, mouth open and supine in moments. Ancient Greeks never forget xenia, even if they hate you.

I stepped into Coriander's house, ducking a little under the low lintel and followed him into the mapmaking room. He sat at his desk, bracing himself for the next words. My voice can't harm his will anymore, now that he's something else, but I doubt this visit will be all that pleasant, all the same. He will be vividly reminded, I will make sure.

"I didn't mean to frighten you. I know it's been a while." Stupid words, where is your tongue? I put a hand on his shoulder, felt him stiffen, then relax.

"It's been too long. You didn't have to bring him here," he said again. Cor looked at me now, heavy brow knit with frustration. I looked back sadly; I don't know what hurts worse, seeing him like this, or knowing that I did it to him.

"I wouldn't have brought him if I didn't need to keep an eye on him." Paltry explanations.

"Why are you here, Rian?"

"I need a map."

"Nothing more?" The hope in his eyes was a small cut.

"Nothing less."

"Where?"

"The Underworld."

"You can go there at any time."

"I can't come back at any time."

"Penny won't like that."

"She owes me a favor, too."

"Even so, I cannot make this map. I have neither the power, nor do I have the desire to anger the ones who made me," he said, cutting the air with his hand. A wisp flew from his shoulder and sailed to the exposed beam and clung there, fluffing its wings.

"I will sing while you make."

"You ask more than is owed. What do I receive in return if I do this thing?"

I know Coriander will do it whether or not I give in to whatever extra demand he sets. He knows he will do it. At least this way he gets to pretend he has a choice. He will insist I be kind and I cannot help it. I'll sing him to sleep and give him the dreams he loves best, just like the last time. In the end, I'm no better than Set. I looked out a window and recognized a wind-torn rock in the Aegean. He still knows how to wound me, still wants to. Ah, well.

"When do you need this map?" he asked.

"Now is good," I said, placing a quill in an open hand.

"Come back in a week."

I kissed him then, a lover's kiss and a promise, for old time's sake. I also knew it would make him work faster; I'd be back in three days to sing the map complete and pay my outstanding debt. I let myself out of the house and visited Sobek on his rock, which was beginning to look transparent.

"Suppose that's my cue," he said, and jumped up before he tumbled.

"It is indeed. I'll come back in three days to collect my map from Coriander."

"And make me jealous," he said, making a moue of distaste.

"You have no claim on my affections, crocodile."

"Don't I?" He took my hand and brought us back then, since white was encroaching on the edges of Coriander's place, a sign of lessening patience and eagerness to be about a working. I heard him mumble something, but it was lost to the wind. Old curses, I supposed.

...

Coriander, Coriander
Dark my name with slander
Coriander, Coriander
You never could've had her

All the times you thought you won
Vanished with the setting sun
Sent you dreams of loss and fright
Sent you visions of the night

Coriander, Coriander
Dark my name with slander
Coriander, Coriander
You never could've had her

All the songs you ever heard
I learned them first and then you third
All the shifts you see and fold
Are the stories I foretold

....

"Fisher. Fisher. Fisherrrr...Fisher Roth!"

"Ow--what, child?" I rubbed my arm where Angelique pinched me.

"You are doing it again!" Ah, the accusatory tones of six-year olds. Never gets old.

"What is it that I am doing, exactly?"

"You are in space. There is a customer," she stage-whispered the last part, hand covering her mouth.
I noticed the woman make a rude face at the child, and begin tapping her foot. Ah, I saw that. Who makes faces at children who behave? Tch.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Fisher, is it?" she said this superciliously, dramatically peering at my tag. "I'd like an iced soy vanilla latte please. Oh, can you make it with the organic soy milk and put an extra shot of espresso? I'm kind of in a hurry." She smiled. She had false red hair and long red nails. She rubbed me the wrong way. I tilted my head and smiled my most bland smile.

"Sure thing." I went to the pot with the oldest coffee (only an hour, we have standards) and poured a cup, then I opened the top of the machine, dug out some burned grounds and dumped them unceremoniously into the cup. I covered it and delivered it to the woman, who saw exactly what I what I had done. Her mouth opened to demand the manager, but she never had a chance.

"This is the best coffee you've ever had in your life," I said, still smiling, "and when you go into work this morning, you'll tell all of your co-workers that Aleppo Dream's brew is the best thing since sliced bread. You will drink this old coffee with grounds in it and taste it for what it is. You will remember exactly what I did, and never speak of it to anyone living, dead, or otherwise animate. You will never come here again." I stopped then and said, "Have a lovely day."

The woman was as red as her awful dye job. Without a word, she marched out of the store on a mission. She would do exactly as I told her, the geas wouldn't lift otherwise.

"That wasn't very nice, Fisher," Angelique admonished me, "You didn't have to do that."

"Are you going to tell?"

"No. But you shouldn't do that. She was just a mean old lady."

"I'm a mean old lady, too."

"No you aren't. You're young and sad."

"Old and sad."

"You don't look old."

"That's because you don't know how to look yet."

"When will I learn? Can you teach me?"

"I don't think your father would approve."

"He doesn't know what you're like, not really." She began to swing her feet on the stool, and smiled. "It's a secret. I like secrets."

"When you're older."

"Everyone always says that!" Angelique sighed her little girl sigh. No candy today, no secrets but the ones we already keep. A scene, a feather, a sense of belonging. Children are always more understanding.

"Have you been practicing your Greek?" I asked.

"Yes!...Eureka!" she shrieked.

"That doesn't count!" I tickled her until we were both reduced to giggles. Cera and Calhoun found us that way when they came in to relieve me. Cera and Calhoun are reincarnations. I don't think they know about it, or if they even believe in that sort of thing, but that's what they are--famous twins who do great and awful things. I wonder what they will do in this life.

"The twins are here. Time for me to go, Angelique. Will I see you next week?" She followed me to the backroom where I gathered up my bag and clocked out. She took my hand in hers, a silent goodbye.

"I don't know, Fisher. Maybe you will show me how to look next time?" She looked up with those eyes, guileless, but not for long. She is learning too fast, I thought.

"You are going to be a minx, aren't you?" I knelt down to hug her.

"What's a minx?"

"Next time."

I walked out of the coffeehouse and didn't get more than two streets away before Thierry detached himself from another wall and joined me.

"I appreciate you not joining me in the Dream today," I said.

"Oh, I watched. You are wonderful with children, you know."

"Creep. And you already knew that."

"Of course, but it's nice to be reminded every now and again. How long since you last saw one of yours?"

"A long time."

"You really have gotten less fun. I think it's the name you picked. Fisher Roth. Very dour, if you ask me. Very plain. Not exotic at all. You could have picked a nice Egyptian name like Amunet, or Bennu. I like those," he said.

"Shall I consult you next time?" I replied.

"Do, please," he smiled to himself, dreaming god-dreams. "I have a feeling that Coriander is done with your map."

"You really ought to leave him alone." No sense saying these things, he doesn't hear me, or care.

"I left him alone until you dragged him into it and now that I have seen him, sorry thing that he is, I have my curiosities to vanquish. I may do as I will," he said, suddenly haughty. Insufferable. I ignored him while I went to the market and got a bit of fish and a few suitable vegetables. He waited outside, being above such mundane things as supermarkets, and rejoined me as I came out. We reached my house without further comment. I felt like cooking and soon the house was filled with the scent of lemons and salmon.

"I don't see why you need to ruin good food with cooking," Thierry called from the couch.

"You have no taste," I shot back.

"Agreed."

I knew I was procrastinating at this point. I didn't want to sing. Not for payment, not for someone else's release, not for Coriander. Maybe I'm just getting old. Finally. One last supper, before the shit hits the fan. I took my plate to the couch and sat lengthwise, feet across Sobek's lap. Comfortable.

"Where's mine?"

"You don't like it cooked, and I was cooking tonight." Sobek looked so put out I couldn't help but take pity on him. I was being nasty for no reason, as far as I knew. "Oh go on then, there's some meat left in the fridge." I moved my feet and let him up. I watched him walk because I'm a lush, and he knew it. He came back presently, with his repast in one hand, two glasses of wine in the other. He handed me a glass once we'd settled back down, and raised his to toast.

"What are we toasting?"

"To the same old adventures, old friends, and old enemies. May we live long enough to plague the ones we hate, cherish the ones we love, and plot against everything else. Want to add anything?"

I thought for a moment, "To your health and wealth." We clinked glasses and drank.
Maybe it was the wine, or just mental fatigue, or plain desire that did it. I couldn't resist him then, and centuries had done less than I thought they might. I watched him sleeping as the sun rose on the third day. Sobek was calm in sleep...no calculating, no sneers or devilish smiles, no sharp words to wound or entice. If singing him to sleep were an option I could force, I would have been sore tempted many a time, just for this sight. I brushed a curl of dark hair from his face, traced the lotus tattoos that grew up one arm, and pinched him. Too sentimental. He frowned then, but kept his eyes closed.

"Jerk," he muttered, and flipped so he was on his side facing me. One eye opened; it was golden, reptilian.

"I have to go today," I said.

"You don't have to. I can do this thing for you," he said, knowing the offer was tempting.

"Yeah, and owe you, along with everything else. What would be in it for you? Torture some poor creature because I loved him once? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Can't say I didn't offer." He half-shrugged and pulled me down from my sitting position until I was laying down, facing him. "I didn't like it when you left."

"You weren't meant to."

"It was such a small thing, though. You didn't have to leave."

"You betrayed me and I was captured. I was put in a cell and used like I haven't been in a thousand years. You aren't dead because I don't have the ability to kill you myself. I would have done it." Calm collapsed, I was shaking now. I had gotten over the physical  hurt ages ago, but saying these things to his face brought the blood back. At least there'd be a little more closure, once the whole sorry ordeal with Durendal was over. He couldn't stay, he made me wild.

"They could only keep you for a day. What is a day to us?"

"You are more dense than ever." I turned over, to catch a few more hours of sleep. Let him stew, if he would. I felt him rearranging himself around me and I let him. Too long without comfort, and you take what you can get, from whomever is giving.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible, "Zosime, I'm sorry."

I couldn't say anything.

"I know you don't believe me, but I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't. Please, let me make it right somehow. I thought about this for centuries, floating in the Old Nile and watching the world change. I wondered if you changed with it, or if you stayed the same...If you cared to remember me, if you could still..." he trailed off. I heard the catch in his voice. It could be an act, but I didn't think so. Didn't want to think so. Sobek could have been in my life the next awful day if he'd wanted. But he would have known my state, the rage and the song, and stayed away. He gave us both time until he couldn't stand it anymore and came seeking me when the next opportunity arose to bring him to my sphere. I can't say if I would have looked for him eventually. I hadn't thought of him in a few years, on purpose; made myself busy with a human life, lived and loved in the moment for as long as I could. Until the past caught up with me. And now I must sing the dream for a broken man, again, to go after the unknown.

...

"Cor, it's time."

I watched impassively, slipping back into my true skin, becoming more other, while Coriander made a few last careful strokes with the stylus. When mapping other planes, the map is not only a guide, but a key, and the folding of the map is the mechanism to unlock the other planes. In the old days it was magic. I guess it's still magic, they just call it science now.

"Ready. Do you have the words?"

"I have the song." I began to sing then, low and quiet at first and then I breathed deep and let out the beginning of a journey, a commencement, the fanfare bringing my voice up the octaves to rest in a cloud over a sunrise. I sang the steps and paths into existence as Coriander folded the map, methodically turning one page over and into the other, keeping time. I watched a bead of sweat slide down his face until I called the sun under the world and then it froze as I sung the moon and stars.

When it was done the map looked like an old trireme, minus the sails and oars. Coriander let go and pushed it gently towards me, a paper ghost ship to lead me the ways I wanted and back again unhindered. He slumped a little on his stool. So tired. When will they let him die?

I looked at Cor, who stared back out of empty eyes. "Come with me," I said.

Everything has a price.









This week’s Indie Ink Challenge came from R.L.W., who gave me this prompt: Be inspired: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRP6egIEABk. I challenged Fran with the prompt You're sick today and it's gorgeous outside.