Riding up to Eaton from the valley floor took most of a day. The valley was hot, much hotter than the open desert. It seemed to get hotter as they got deeper into it. They began the climb early in the day and Libby asked, at one point, why they did not rest until the evening, why climb in the heat.
The guide smiled grimly, "It is always hot in the valley. A great demon lives here and his breath is fire, his skin like metal left in the noonday sun. You cannot stay here in his very mouth for more than a day or two before you die. There is no water here and it is never any cooler, night or day."
Manueline saw again the strength and the weakness of the East Lord. No one could assail him in his town above the valley. Anyone seeking to come to him through the valley only need be delayed by a day and they would simply die; a few strong men at the head of the pass is all it would take. Eaton's strength was also its weakness, it had no need for a powerful standing force, no need for cohesiveness, loyalty and dedication among its people. They no doubt could be depended on to defend their home territory, if need be, but would never be any good extending the power of the East lord anywhere else.
She saw the drawing in the dust again. The King and Queen surrounded by the various powers that stood for or against them; the King sustaining himself using the power that was, at the same time, both the strongest and the weakest of them all. She realized she was coming to admire him even without knowing him. He withstood the temptation to throw his weight behind one of the bigger players, overwhelming the others, buying himself peace and security at the price of becoming someone's puppet. She could feel this King would be no one's plaything, even if the people around him imagined he was a nothing, a swirling of dust at the mercy of whatever wind was blowing for the day.
They came up from the valley floor climbing steadily up a steep incline with occasional switchbacks that sometimes seemed to have been dug into the side of the valley as the valley made its way up from below. Each time they entered one of these it seemed to focus and intensify the heat. Manueline realized she was not sweating at all, not because her body was not losing moisture but because the moisture evaporated before its presence could be seen on her skin. When they still seemed a long way from the top, the guide got off his horse and told the others, "We must walk, the animals will no longer carry your weight as well as their own." They took some water for themselves and the animals and started wearily trudging up the incline.
Manueline could feel herself bleaching out into the air around them. She saw the wolf, a couple of times, snuffing at the air and looking at her. He knew she was out in the air around them, dangerously so and he started trailing her, walking behind her and watching her. Manueline knew the world around her as she had under the stream of water on the island in the middle of the swamp. She could feel the texture of the rocks, how the heat stressed them, making the dust that swirled around their feet as they walked. She no longer cared for herself or for the others around her. She watched them all as they walked stunned by the heat and the climb, scarcely able to breath never mind think or reason about the world around them. Manueline knew; she could feel the world; she no longer even needed her body. She could feel the sun lowering in the sky behind them. Its brightness lightened the end of the day. Its light poured into her and into the rocks she could feel around her. It lightened her, helping her in her knowledge of the world, giving her an immense, tempting path off to the west and a direct, tactile sense of the world to the east; Eaton and the people of the town; the East Lord and his people. They were so close now she could reach out and touch any one of them. She saw Eaton with its reddish brown mud walls and the flat roofed houses that lay within the walls; geometrically simple structures but socially complex and complicated in their internal divisions and arrangements. She saw this before ever they came to the top of the hill and looked at the town. She saw it in what she felt of the world around her having no need to see it with her eyes.
As they climbed up the valley she began to dance. She let go of the horse she was leading seemingly closed her eyes, lifted her arms above her head and began an odd precise quick step, that took her some steps forward, then stopped as she stepped sideways with an accompanying movement of her arms and then switched the leading foot as she stepped forward again.
Libby had been drawn to the back of the line, trying to help and encourage Nina who was finding the climb difficult. His attention had been turned back, trying to draw Nina onwards. He looked up the way they were going in time to see Manueline pass the guide as she started her dance. He simply stood aside and let her go, not attempting to stop her.
Libby called out, "Manueline!" but there was no volume to his voice, his body was too dry. He began to run, urging the horse he was leading after him. The guide stood looking after Manueline with a stunned expression on his face. Libby's cry and his attempt to run up the trail brought him back and he turned to Libby, blocking the path, grabbing him as he came. Libby struggled for a moment to get free, then he stopped and listened to what the guide was saying.
"You must let her go."
Libby stood a moment held by the guide; watching Manueline dance away from him on the path. He looked back down the valley towards the setting sun, looking briefly at Nina and the others in the party. He turned to the guide and smiled, gently taking the hand that held him and putting it off, pulling the hand up towards his face, looking at it, still smiling and then giving the hand back to the guide. The guide watched him, mesmerized by the movement of his own limbs as Libby moved his hand and then moved him out the way and said, "Take care of the horses" as he turned and walked quickly up the hill after Manueline.
He caught up with her. Libby made no attempt to stop her or interfere with what she was doing he followed her for a few steps, watching what she was doing, then he slipped behind her, matching his steps with hers; stepping forwards with her until she slowed and swayed to one side, stepping to one side, changing her feet as she stepped forwards again. It was an easy pattern for him to follow. At first, he barely touched her. Then he put one hand on her left shoulder, the other hand on her right hip and moved with her, shifting his hands as they stepped sideways and changed feet. He could feel her smile. He could feel her respond to his presence, leaning on him, letting him take some of her weight and help her, guide her as she stepped and changed feet. She brought her arms down and placed one hand over the hand on her shoulder, the other over the hand on her hip and they truly began to dance together, touching each other and responding to each other. As they came over the brow of the hill, as the path opened up and they came to the area in front of the great western gate leading into Eaton, as they came in sight of the town, she turned in his arms, now stepping backwards into the dance, holding him to her as they danced before the people of Eaton. They no longer followed the path but circled, turning, turning in each other's arms, oblivious of anything other than themselves.
As the sun finally touched the horizon, over in the west, sinking beyond the mountains of Loro, Libby and Manueline stopped and stood in each other's arms looking at the end of the day. Manueline came awake as the sun sank below the horizon. They could hear the town waking behind them. Many people had been standing on the wall watching them as they danced down the path and there was a great deal of shouting and noise all of it in the local dialect that neither Manueline nor Libby could understand. They paid no attention to it as they stood looking at the western sky still bright with the departing day. Libby never asked her why she danced and she never told him. He trusted her. He found that trust in following her and dancing with her. Even though, at the end of the dance, he was leading and she was following, he was quite clear that the dance was hers and not his. It was something she placed between them, like the drawing in the dust she did of the people of the world. Just as she put the drawing there so others could see it and understand it, she started dancing so he could dance and others could see it and understand them through that vision. She brought things into the world so people could see and understand. Libby smiled looking at the light in the west seeing what she was and what she had done for them.
He was not in the least surprised when the guide nervously came up to them, obviously very agitated, so much so he twitched at Libby's sleeve. "The Marcher he comes. He comes to see who is dancing before his gate." The guide was so nervous it was hard to understand him. He was using words from the local dialect repeating himself and shifting his vocabulary from one language to another. Libby turned to him taking his arm, still touching Manueline with his other hand resting on her shoulder. He calmed the guide; helping him to speak in connected sentences, finally turning to see where the guide pointed back towards the town.
The walls were quite high but the town rose on a hill behind them and they could almost see the surface of a road that led up the hill going obliquely off to the south. Manueline came round Libby, bringing his arm with her so she was standing behind the guide looking over the guide's head, Libby's arm still on her shoulder. They looked up into the town and saw a procession coming down the road. There were flags and banners held by people at the head of the procession, so many of them it was hard to see the people beyond. They caught the odd glimpse of people being carried shoulder high in chairs that had canopies over them making them seem higher still. The chairs were almost like strange creatures of the town, peering over the walls, nodding their heads as they made their way down towards the gate. The guide became nervous again pointing at the procession saying, "See he comes. The Marcher comes."
Manueline looked at him wondering at his reaction and realized he was telling them something. She asked, "Is this different? Is it unusual for the Marcher to come to the gate?"
"He never comes. Only at the turning of the year."
Libby asked, "Who is the Marcher anyway?"
The guide looked shocked, but answered anyway, "He is the Marcher, the one you call the Lord of the East."
The other members of the party, Nina, Ivo, Duilio, and Drem all stood on the edge of the open area in front of the gate watching Manueline and Libby. The horses ranged behind them Ivo holding Manueline's horse as well as his own, Drem holding Libby's. There was a growing crowd of people coming out of the gate ranging themselves either side of the open area. Slowly forming a natural arena with boundaries made from the bodies of those come to witness the Marcher's reception of the people who danced up the hill.
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JP Thompson (patrick@standingwaiting.com)