{ (print: "<script>$('html').removeClass(\)</script>") (if: (passage:)'s tags's length > 0)[ (print: "<script>$('html').addClass('" + (passage:)'s tags.join(' ') + "'\)</script>") ] } (text-style:"shadow")[░░░▒▒] I've looked upon you before. Merciless and wonderous, you ensnared me the instant my eyes fell upon you. I couldn't breathe. It didn't matter. [[You->letter 1.2]] hung in the air unimpeded, drifting savagely amid the (text-style:"outline")[light] and the (text-style:"shadow")[mist]. ==> Please Won't you come to me [[again->letter 1.4]] ? <center>It never [[does->letter 1.1]].</center> fluent in the speechless motion-talk of the air, undulating sweetly; something inside of me trembled and shuddered and heaved, overcome by your presence. ==> (that bile-heart strains itself again to speak of this &mdash; of you &mdash; for how private a declaration is this; a heathen outcry, a brutalized fantasy) <== the tensile sinews in me, those deepest fibers of my being, ached to know your voice. I still have not tasted it; I do not even dare to imagine it. perhaps you haven't got one. ==> but I &mdash; I do. I pray it might [[reach->letter 1.3]] you. I don't mean to make [[demands->letter 1.5]]. But I have never felt anything like you before, and I long to feel it again &mdash; you spread a sunburst of [[joy]] to me that I have long gone without. There was such curious ecstasy in the way you passed through my aura; so full, and yet so effortless. It cannot have been callousness; no, you are too precise for that, aren't you? You //chose// me. You moved [[through me->letter 1.6]]. <center>And I have been marked ever since. The air hums anew to me. It is thicker, its currents more purposeful. When I swipe my hand out before me, I feel it tremble and (text-style:"smear")[ [[separate]]] between my fingers. <center>(text-style:"smear")[and so a fire kindles: a soft gray flame, its smoke pale and coquettish. it shudders and falls lower, twisting on the coals, timid in its [[embers->smoke 1b]]] I made the journey to (text-style:"smear")[ [[the Trepidary]] ] alone. I cannot stand the sort of crowd that gathers there: so morose, so weary. They refuse to appreciate the (text-style:"smear")[ [[beauty]] ] laid out before them. I couldn't bear to mire myself in that; it would dampen my mood so terribly. I will not mar this great occasion. So I made the journey (text-style:"smear")[ [[alone->letter 2.2]] ]</span>. It is nothing like the familiar places we love and understand. It is a precious gateway, far removed from the [[Aggregate]] which claims to serve the same purpose. fine spires rise up from the burnt ground, twisted silhouettes; teeth or bones in profile, two meters high before they begin to twist &mdash; such a delicate [[dance->letter 2.1]] (if I knew how, I would join them) It took three days and three nights to reach the place. I hardly wrote a word on the trip. Nothing of interest, I'm afraid; only [[matters of business]], florid and tense. I was [[preoccupied]]. I have never liked [[Kallichore]], but I found myself with no other option. I left the [[forest]] and walked straight into the mouth of the thoroughfare. It was the fastest way to Paaliaq, and from there to the Trepidary. Ill as the place suits me, I made my [[way]]. And the faceless guards here have never asked me to remove my [[mask]]. Perhaps they are simply lax &mdash; but perhaps they understand. Perhaps they understand, and are willing to [[spare me->letter 2.1]] the pain. Ivory and blue-black sandstone, veined with sardonyx and sealed with gold. The stone was carefully mined, the bone carefully set. It was expensive. I needed something lovely to cover the (text-style:"outline")[ [[hole->fuss]]]. <span style="color:#000000;"><strike>Grand ones</strike>, <strike>You who grant your tender supervision to all of Paaliaq</strike>, <strike>Permit me</strike> <strike>If i might be so bold as to</strike> <strike>[[Please]]</strike> Such noise! Such hustle and bustle! I can't stand it &mdash; impudent cabs and cycles whiz about ready to clip any unsuspecting person they happen to pass. The fleets of rumbling engines make my head ache. Their crude smog belches filter beneath my mask and my raw sinuses pound beneath the gauze. This is not the sort of smoke I understand. It does not part easily between my fingers. (But I must be grateful. Stubborn as it is, it disperses more readily now than it (text-style:"outline")[ [[used to->preoccupied]]].) I rushed to the heart of the Trepidary, seeking the approval of my travel request. It was returned with authorized clearance, and had the guards only known how I smiled! They might have suspected me of going [[mad]]. Another leg of the journey hacked away. A neat, clean [[cut]]. Beautiful, I confess, but weak-hulled. She could not take me as far as I needed to go without stalling for this and that, making repairs and trips along the way. I wished her Captain only the best of luck, and took my leave. I was simply (text-style:"shadow")[[[not suited->cut]]] to be her cargo. I hated the ship's name enough that a wave of relief broke over me when I found that the Rime skirted Sycorax entirely. There would be no need to imprison myself on an (text-style:"shadow")[[[inauspicious vessel->cut]]]. <center>She was (text-style:"outline")[ [[perfect]]].</center> A strong hull, an ideal route, and a winsome crew. No tepid distractions would anchor her in far-off ports, and she was sturdy enough to withstand the (text-style:"shadow")[ [[voyage->voyage1]]]. //&mdash; early evening, fifth day &mdash;// I have already learned so much. The crew members bellow and sing as they work, and their duties and orders and comings-and-goings are as fascinating as their shanties. I ventured above-deck on a clear morning to see a man scurrying along the net of rope that cascades down behind the sail, climbing down head-first like a spider. I am not a spirited climber myself. I think I would fall and crack my head apart. Or, at least, my mask. Either would make for an [[ugly sight->2b]]. //&mdash; late morning, second day &mdash;// How exciting this is! It has been so long since I committed myself to the sea. Where did I last go? I cannot recall every offshoot trajectory of my life; I have been here and there, but perhaps I went here before I went there, or there before here, or the like. Life has [[changed->1b]]. //&mdash; early evening, fifth day &mdash;// I have already learned so much. The crew members bellow and sing as they work, and their duties and orders and comings-and-goings are as fascinating as their shanties. I ventured above-deck on a clear morning to see a man scurrying along the net of rope that cascades down behind the sail, climbing down head-first like a spider. I am not a spirited climber myself. I think I would fall and crack my head apart. Or, at least, my mask. Either would make for an [[ugly sight->last]]. //&mdash; late morning, second day &mdash;// How exciting this is! It has been so long since I committed myself to the sea. Where did I last go? I cannot recall every offshoot trajectory of my life; I have been here and there, but perhaps I went here before I went there, or there before here, or the like. Life has [[changed->last]]. //&mdash; late evening, eighth day &mdash;// I am growing accustomed to the sea. The journey is half over, I think, or nearing that sweet midway-mark. Though I find myself fond of the ship and the sea, I am anxious. I am only cargo here, powerless to direct myself, and so I have written too much. I've been loosing too many needless words that will never reach out the way I would hope. They will never manipulate sentiment the same way as the air does. I must recapture the essence of what I felt in [[Paaliaq]], where I stole a moment to strike my flint [[and->second smoke]]&mdash; <span style="background: #000000; opacity: .8; padding: 3px; border-radius: 50px;">&mdash; where I kept looking forward, forward, forward, [[to&mdash;->pasithee]] Pasithee. I've lost track of the days, but I'm assured that two weeks have passed at least. Now we dock for supplies, for fuel, and for a matter which the Captain has assured me will be brief: she has a delivery of sunset-salt to make in port. I can't protest; she is timely, and it turns her profit well enough to stock the ship's necessities comfortably. Little time for [[sightseeing]]. There is a [[note]] I wish to send. Though Pasithee is lovely indeed. The grass has a teal tint to it, more blue than yellow in the green. Great hills roll beyond the port, dotted with mansions and pockmarked here and there with shallow lakes. I could adore (text-style:"outline")[ [[this place->pasithee]]], I think. <span style="color:#000000;"><center>Warm greetings to the letter-master of Sycorax</center> It is my duty to inform you of my arrival well in advance. I venture here seeking nothing &mdash; I wish only to admire your city and to pass on, silently, beyond. But I thank you already, without intending to be presumptuous, for your genial hospitality. With utmost courtesy, [[NÁZ PARNÁM->sent]] Diplomacy changes the farther North one travels. The confidential formality of it all is heavy in the pen, oozing gross secrets for us all to [[keep->sent2]]. <center>(text-style:"smear")[blue smoke billowing up from blue grass; so beautiful, so delicate are you enjoying it as i am? it reaches high and curls higher, leading northward, ever northward. the little flame knows where i am going and where we are destined to meet again [[at last->ship]]] The ship's lowing horn startled me from my trance. Crudely, I stifled the fire in my hands &mdash; and obedient as ever, it allowed me to smother it. I only hope it forgave me. I did not leave enough time for us. I have been pacing the [[cabins]], wishing I had not been so hasty. Perhaps the [[sea-air->deck]] would do my nerves more favor than this dark, closed-off place. They are comfortable, of course &mdash; I sleep well here, rocked by the sea like a mother, a faceless mother for a faceless son &mdash; but I long for earth and sky as any land-creature does. I miss its vastness. I am too distant from the air, cooped up [[inside->ship]]. It did. Oh, it [[did]]. <center>(text-style:"smear")[a shipbound sunset, a careful flame kindled in secret on deck, purpling like a bruise; it spirals and dances, pours itself ever upward and is swept harshly [[away->fourth smoke2]];] Sycorax is near, the Captain tells me, and I am forced to admit that I have not been entirely forthcoming with her. My journey does not [[end]] there. //Zedetak,// I was told, Zedetak is where I would find you. Those diplomats and debutantes scoffed at the place from the safety of Benhionm, but I was captivated. How wonderful I found it, how stunning that you had come all the way to us from such a [[homeland]]. They have [[stranded]] me here. The Captain said that the wait would be longer, but I failed to understand. I had not thought that I would be left ashore for days upon days as she embarked on a task where I could not follow. I was told only to "Wait here," and that the ship would return "Soon," and if it didn't, to "Wait a bit [[longer->stranded2]]." I will make the best of it. I will. Sycorax is [[beautiful->explore1]], after all. The Captain offered me coin for lodgings, and I didn't find it unseemly to accept. For she promised that she would return, and I trust her still; it is all my own paralysis that has stolen this time from me, not any fault of hers. Still, my gut flutters with panic. I am eager to move on. I send a [[letter->sycletter]] on ahead. My chest is tight; my breath is [[stifled]]. It [[veiled]] me in Benhionm, until it [[bared]] me utterly. <center>(text-style:"smear")[this is a beauty i have never known before: opulence of the purest kind; no crown has ever gleamed so bright and i have seen so many [[crowns]]] I have grown tired here. The furs and leathers and long wide scarves that protect against the cold are so heavy. The cold labors my breathing. Sycorax is so [[beautiful->haumea returns]], but I &mdash; <span style="color:#000000;"> <center>She is back ! ! </center> She is back ! I see her <center>//She is [[back->boarding]]// <center><span style="color:#000000;">I am so near to you at last. I will find you as soon as I can. I will find you if it takes the rest of my life. Yours always, [[NÁZ PARNÁM->explore1]]</span> I will never forget her horn. The Haumea called me once more with her careful howl, and I was on my feet at once, dashing through the port before she even fell silent. I had been waiting. I waited every day at dusk, watching the ships dock, until she (text-style:"outline")[ [[returned]]]. I see now why I was left behind on Sycorax, why NÁZ could not come along. The Captain could not bear to endanger the lot in her charge. She ventured off to the west (to a place that I can guess but will not repeat), to a place where a toe out of line would have cost her life and the lives of her crew. An unauthorized presence like NÁZ would have spelled death. NÁZ (text-style:"outline")[ [[understands->restless]]]. My hands were unsteady. My mind was not clear. I woke in the night and kindled a fire in my own palm in the dead bleakness of the cabin and I could not summon more than a [[spark]] <center>The sun rose and the sea-mist parted and (text-style:"outline")[ [[there it was->zed2]]. ] <center><span style="color:#000000;">as the sea [[rushes->overboard]] up to meet me.</center></span> <center>through the gauze and the water and the wet rasp of my breath i hear the crew shouting, raising the alarm; the captain is shouting alongside them and the ship creaks as it turns, as they cast ropes into the (text-style:"outline")[ [[sea->letter1]]] <center>but it's (text-style:"outline")[ [[too late->letter2]]] <center>you [[chose me->overboard3]] in benhionm. <center>let this be a (text-style:"outline")[ [[test]]] <center>cold seeping beneath my mask it burns at the crest of my sinuses, sears the flesh where my nose (text-style:"outline")[ [[used to be->drifting]]] <center>i breathe in and hold it tight, captive beneath the mask; my lungs inflate, my chest rises in the freezing water the crew is still screaming. the shore is (text-style:"outline")[ [[so close->drifting2]]] <center>the haumea cannot reach me but i can reach zedetak if i (text-style:"outline")[ [[struggle->breath1]]], if i thrash against the cold <center>i let it go and the held breath ushers out of me in powerful bursts, (text-style:"outline")[ [[thick->breath2]]] and sharp, full of ice <center>the ship behind , the (text-style:"outline")[ [[shore]]] before <center> (text-style:"smear")[I knew we would meet again.] <span style="color:#000000;">To whom it may concern among the Gatekeepers of Paaliaq, I make a small request of the Trepidary, for I am sought in Sycorax and wish to be of no inconvenience. Would it be possible for this humble emissary to board an outbound ship? Any will do. My arrival will be prompt, as will be my departure. My discretion is unparallelled. Signed, [[NÁZ PARNÁM->letter 2.2]]</span> (Like the dawn. All gossamer gold and benthic (text-style:"outline")[[[reflections->letter 1.5]]], a sunrise overlaid like glass across a worn sea shore.) Thelxinoe is not cold. It has been mild always, a place where one's breath is invisible year-round. But I have wanted, so dearly, to see for myself the strange feeling in the air, to [[prove]] it to myself. <center>(text-style:"smear")[have no fear, little [[messenger]] .]</center> <center>(text-style:"smear")[i beckon to it amid the smoke (curling around my fingers like kings' jewels; dripping from my hands, heavy and lucid; it is welcoming me) and, offering a puff of my breath, the fire takes on new life: still weak, still gray, but fierce; the smoke twists in hazy patterns i have never [[seen before]]]</center> <center>(text-style:"smear")[and they all point north. the smoke unfurls thickly; it stings the eyes; it conjures tears; i weep onto the coals for joy and the fire leaps a bit higher thank you, [[thank you->letter 2.1]]&mdash;]</center> That hub calls itself a Nexus, and it plays the part well enough, I'll give it that. But I have come to despise its orthodoxy; so strict, so unforgiving. I am weary. I want no more to do with declarations or sacrifice; my intent and my few belongings are my own. Let travel retain its [[right->the Trepidary 2]] to be impulsive and swift. The Trepidary does not [[fuss]] in the same ways. It is all the stronger for that. Three ships there were, three docked for my inspection: (text-style:"emboss")[ [[The Seaheart]]], (text-style:"emboss")[ [[The Rime]]], and (text-style:"emboss")[ [[The Haumea]]]. And her aim was true. The ship moved swiftly at her command, and I retired to the cabin where I would stay for the next long while. <center>I [[wrote->1]] and I [[wrote->2]].</center> I am relieved to have sent it, nonetheless; appearances and politeness are as important as ever. And I am left now with time for (text-style:"outline")[ [[us->third smoke]]]. The salt-breeze cleared my mind, and with a clear mind I realized the simplest possibility, one that I hadn't considered before. All the way to Pasithee, I eyed my flint but stayed my hand. Why? Is it an act of hubris to kindle [[a fire at sea->fourth smoke]]? She raises her eyebrows, lowers her voice, asks me [[why]] I kept this from her. She does not seem angry. Surprised, perhaps. But not angry. She will not strike NÁZ; she will not shout. ==> but that is all right. The moon has abandoned us tonight, but the sun will rise soon. I will seek guidance [[then->zedetak in sight]]. (And they would think me mad if I had told them why I voyage north. No, I must not speak of you to anyone. We shall keep ourselves [[to ourselves->way]].) "Aye, of course," the Captain told me, "I've sailed there many a time. Tricky at first, but that sea can hardly surprise me now." She beamed with pride, and I told her how her skill raised my spirits. "You cannot see the smile, but it shines here." I rapped upon my mask, bone-hollow, and was pleased to see that her face did not fall in confusion or disgust. "You have relieved this one of a great burden." The Captain nodded. "'Tis my (text-style:"shadow")[ [[aim]]], sir." <center>(text-style:"smear")[ a smoke more brazen than before, a fire less desaturated; it is livelier, lovelier and infinitely less lonely. but the color &mdash; i cannot place it, this color i have never seen before. is it poisoned by the engine-grit of the center city? if it is, why is it so beautiful? why would i protect it with [[my life->last]]? ] <center>(text-style:"smear")[the sky is clotted with pink and orange and indigo, but the fire's last violet wisps stand out, slashed across the sky as they curl northward in a final, desperate stretch; i understand. every day we come [[closer->near]].] "I was afraid." The truth. I feared divulging our meeting place; I feared that any Captain would refuse my passage for having the gall to force their ship into those treacherous waters for little profit. I have already given her all I could. Her voice remains low, taut. "Well, I am not. I told you before, this sea can't play tricks on [[me]], Master Náz." I trust her. I have trusted her. "My apologies." She swats them away, scoffs. "Don't need them. You'll have a longer wait to go, but you'll get where you want to be." So long as I will get there. I vowed from the start that I would find a way. The way did not have to be the Haumea, but I am glad that it will be. I cannot be content until I reach [[Zedetak->zed]]. And the smoke confirmed it: Zedetak, north of Sycorax and far from the safety of its coast. Zedetak, where water glitters with shards of glacial quartz that break the sea in slivers and mountain tops. Zedetak, where they say the air is so cold it freezes one's breath half-solid. I'll have to buy another coat. I already feel the [[chill->syc]]. But perhaps that is just the cold. I feel it even through the [[mask->flashback2]], and the mask presses so close to my lips without a nose to contour it forward. The slit of the mouth is so thin, and the air that comes through it so frigid, and my own breath so hot. If not for my lapels, no one would have recognized poor NÁZ PARNÁM, no one would have hailed and cried out to dear NÁZ and asked why he [[hid->flashback2]] his face. The stares weigh so heavily already. They would have been too much for me without it. I prefer the way my mask catches the eye; I prefer it to the way [[my face]] would draw a hapless, gape-mouthed look of shock. Poor NÁZ. I must change the gauze often. (The hole leaks. The skin is raw, reluctant to heal and slow to scar.) I wrap it around my head again and again and the pain dulls eventually and the mask secures over the gauze, held in place by it, cushioned and caught by the fabric, and I [[hear]] everything through a thick layer of cotton, and I hurt. But my sight is uncompromised. Perhaps I do not see to the sides so well, but my vision at least is clear and crisp wherever I look. I see the currents of the air as they change directions. I see colors that others do not. I (text-style:"outline")[ [[create them->fifth smoke]].] <center>(text-style:"smear")[darkness. black smoke on the night sky, betrayed only by the curl of its movement; this is nothingness; the fire sputters and [[dies->failed smoke2]].] And I yelled and saluted when she arrived; I whistled through the mask (it echoed dreadfully!) and clapped my hands. I forgot myself, but the crew did not mind. The Captain welcomed my return, knowing how eager I was to resume this [[voyage]], if not why. I have known such places. Restless places, cautious places, fearful places. And still I walk into the glass maw of this northern wilderness I have only heard about in stories. How strange, that I have not felt fear until [[now->failed smoke]]. Beautiful, so beautiful, like the spires of the Trepidary translated into new finery: into quartz, into diamond. The distant glassy ice seems to sing, to scream, and I am so drawn to it, so wild with longing and fear, such (text-style:"outline")[ [[fear->fallen]]] <center>What have I (text-style:"outline")[ [[done->zedetak]]] ? <center>chest aches, throat aches ; breath heavy, half solid like (text-style:"shadow")[ [[smoke]]] <center>curling away into the air no further (text-style:"shadow")[ [[north]]] it could go <center>a figure in the distance drifting savagely fluent in the motion-talk of the air undulating sweetly following the (text-style:"smear")[ [[breath->final breath]]] from my lungs <center>(text-style:"smear")[the smoke is obliging as i mold it into a diadem and send it on its way with a heavy breath slotting out from the mask, urging it on its way: to you, my king, [[to crown you->lethargy]]. ] <center>(text-style:"smear")[But I am lonesome without the smoke and the [[lethargy->lethargy2]] sets in again.] <span style="color:#000000;">(The Osier glade, northeast of the place I was born. The dogwoods blossom spectacularly in the sweetest creams and softest pinks. The dusting of pale petals is [[like snow]] to us in Thelxinoe. <span style="color:#000000;">(I doubt I'll see them again for a [[long time->preoccupied]] to come.) <center>(text-style:"outline")[[[...->sycorax]] ] <center>did i not [[vow->water]] to find a way even without the ship? I have written many letters, and sent very few. I know the cause to be hopeless; schoolboy love can't thrive in this world of distance and diplomacy. But if words will not reach you, I'll take up flint and steel. I must [[thank you->smoke 1]] for this gift.