In the Country of the Great King by Ardythe Ashley

Author:Ardythe Ashley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-05-30T21:13:36+00:00

Part Three: The Night Watchers

Behold a sacred voice is calling you;

All over the sky a sacred voice is calling.

—Black elk

“There are a lot of characters, Arista,” said Katelyn.

Arista, who had been idly stroking the cat and ineffectively shuffling papers at her worktable, snapped forward into alertness at the sound of Katelyn’s possibly critical voice. “Can you keep them all straight?”

“Straight?”

“Oh, don’t be so touchy.”

“Yes.”

“Any other comments?”

“I’m not sure about your guy. Christian. What’s all the fuss about?”

“Handsome. White hair. Tragic past. Charismatic. Not enough, huh?”

“No. Not for me.”

“Probably not neurotic enough. I’ll work on him.” In truth, more work was always worthwhile, thought Arista, but also, in even more truth, Katelyn wasn’t the best judge of men these days. Not that she ever had been. “Do you have anything else to say about the book?”

“Not yet. I’m too involved for comment at present.”

“It’s awfully ladylike, for me, don’t you think?”

“Well . . . yes. But it’s still pleasantly wicked.”

“And shouldn’t I be making more of a statement about society? Shouldn’t I be offering wise prescriptions to a dying culture?”

“We’re not dying. Aren’t we society? Aren’t we culture?”

“We are the lunatic fringe of a lunatic culture.”

“I don’t feel like a lunatic.”

“Result of a double negative.”

Katelyn was suddenly serious. “Arista, are you happy with him?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not frightened?”

“Of what?”

“I suppose that answers the question. When will he be back?”

“Dinnertime.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“So am I, Katelyn, so am I.”

“Who would have thought it?” Katelyn shook her head gently from side to side.

“The Katelyn I wrote would understand.”

“The Katelyn you know does understand.” She smiled and then returned her attention to the manuscript. In a moment she looked up again. “But he’s a strange choice . . . even for you, Arista.”

Maggie Silvernails had made her choice, too.

She had only to implement it. First she wanted to be certain that Luke survived past the first day of the month; that was tomorrow. And she needed assurance that Callahan and Elinor had made their peace with one another. Then she would speak.

She sat alone by the black water in this, the darkest hour of the night, watching the Hudson River struggling for its sloppy life against the excretions of the city. There were homosexuals nearby, making love on the docks, under the docks. She hoped they would be safe, though she knew they harbored no such hopes, poor boys; struggling for erotic life against the power of the mother. Too much water here, she thought. Maggie rose and walked steadily back to the core of the Village.

She knew that somewhere in the shadows Deerfinder lurked, keeping a watchful eye upon her, keeping her safe, but not, this time, intruding. He had been so as a boy. What did the white men call him? A brave. Yes, Deerfinder was a brave. He thought she hadn’t noticed him, all these years, slinking about, standing steadfastly between her and all manner of trouble. A brave fool. She knew he lived for Maggie Silvernails. A brave dear fool. But since the end of his childhood he had lived in regret.

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