The Architect of Sleep by Steven R. Boyett

Author:Steven R. Boyett [Boyett, Steven R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1986-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Black iron pots crowd each other for heat on the rack above the flames. Zorba turns to me from the fireplace and sets down the long‐handled iron rod with which he opens their lids. “It is a little while yet before the water boils, and I must tend to preparing soups and salves. So tell me, Truck, what needs to be told.”

I look around the empty room. It is still and quiet now that all are gone home or to their rooms to sleep. The fireplace provides the only illumination, though that is plenty. The wavering shadows of chair backs sway together on the wooden floor.

My fingers twitch in frustration at how much there is to sign. Zorba sits between me and the hearth; firelight saturates his fur, distinguishes his outline. His wide ears are but silhouettes of two black knives. “There is so much,” I sign. “Where am I to begin?”

“The beginning is often best,” he signs without humor. So like him!

I twiddle my fingers and crack my knuckles, and for an instant I feel that I am years in the past: Dr. Zorba sitting straight‐backed to lecture me before the hearth in the late hours of the night. “There are many beginnings, Zorba. Am I to start with your resignation? With the events following my confirmation as Architect? With my betrayal and—I assume—usurpation?”

“Perhaps I should ask a few questions I consider most important—though in no hierarchy of importance, I assure you—since you already know the tale and it is I who require clarification.”

“That seems best.”

“Fine. Then: not most important, but about which I am most curious: How are you knowing where to find me, Truck? I am thinking myself rather removed, here, from curious eyes, gossiping hands, and courtly intrigues.”

I wave a chuckle. “And so you are, I think. But you are ever one of my favorite teachers, Zorba, and always looking after my welfare. In many ways you are the parent I am never having. I even remember your visits when I am a kit in the crèche. So when I am taking the vows and thus acquire a touch more power, I am sending out queries, sniffing out false leads, eventually to pick up the trail you are leaving behind—and you know the trail I mean—”

He laughs. “Ever one of my vices,” he signs.

“And your vices,” I counter, “are a tight pouch of mixed contents, for they send you away from me and yet allow me to find you again. Anyway, when I am reasonably sure of where you are, I am sending a small band after you.”

“Well, they are not finding me.”

I turn my chair so that I may prop my feet upon the long dining table—my moccasins are removed and air out on the front porch—and then I lean back more comfortably in the chair, which creaks like a ship. “Do you remember,” I sign with feigned casualness, “a five‐member acting troupe entertaining in Three Big Dogs some—let me think…four transits ago? I believe you are treating one of them for heat prostration.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.