Catherynne M. Valente by The Labyrinth

Author:The Labyrinth
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

. “I could never do that, Ezekiel,” I murmured as he closed the sheath of his skin.

“I know,” he said, closing himself as though buttoning a suit. “You are not strong enough. There are ways within ways. You follow the way of the mad. It is different.” He shook his head at me. “But I am here, hereandnow, I will not leave you.“The Road had slushed almost entirely to deep, rich black mud, and we were slogging through it one sucking footprint at a time. The Monkey’s fur was streaked in dirt like war paint, my arms like ruby stalactites circled in bracelets of earth.

“Why are we walking? The Labyrinth will change around us, the Door will swallow us. Why do we not trust in it? I want to lay down, I want to Stop. It will carry us to her, or it will not. I don’t care.”

“We must keep up appearances, Darlingred. We cannot stop. Forward motion, endless if, but still we must.”

“I don’t care.” I stared ahead, unblinking, scarlet eyes drinking in the wide marshes and waving reeds. “Once I was the Marsh King’s daughter, and my wings were brown. I sipped at tadpoles with a delicate beak, scimitar-curved, and when I took tea with my father, I crooked my little finger like a scythe. I was a blade of flesh and nail, I was murky and obscene as the delta water.” Dew formed in blood-droplets on my eyelashes.

“You are slipping away from me,” he warned in a whisper.

“No, I know it did not happen that way. But was there a

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timebefore, Ezekiel? Was there? Was I a child once, did I make mud-pies and leap two-footed into inkwells? Was there a yellow-clouded summer once when I skinned my knee, and felt the prickle of a father’s beard on my cheek as he dried my tears? Did I love a boy once, with hazel eyes and hair like wheat in the sun? Was I a woman once and not this? Did these breasts like swollen apples ever feed a daughter or a son? I could not say, I could not say, there has never been anything but this, but oh, Ezekiel, what if it has not been foralways?”

I was crying, long, stringy hot wax-tears, coloring my face like a Christmas candle. Through the red blur, I could see the landscape changing, the mud drying into desert-cracks, gold streaked with spider-legs, expanding into the horizon, sparse Walls become cacti—filled up with their thick tequila-water, oozing from green shell like mucus. The Road nearly disappeared into the thirsty land, its track crossing back over itself over and over, fashioning from dust and sand a checkered pattern we strode, a weeping candle and a gilded djinn.

A terrible thumping sound came ripping across the land, searing and boiling the air, the sound of a Door opening and slamming shut hungrily.

Thumpthumpthumpthump.

It was the whole sky, eating all other sound. I clasped my hands over my ears, screaming to drown it out.

“We must move quickly, Darling.

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