DAYLIGHT DOWN THE SHAFT
© Dana W. Paxson 2005
Story threads back to scene BREAK A HOLE IN THE STONE: |
Story threads back to scene A PLAINTIVE FADING NOTE: * LEJINA'S CHANGE |
Story threads back to scene PULLING MY FACE OFF: |
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DAYLIGHT DOWN THE SHAFT 1560 4D We got offstage to a standing, hands-raised, “Aaahh!” My knees shook. Grioskin held my arm to steady me as we headed to the dressing room. Caladrina stood there, an apologetic look on his round face and a large cloth-covered tray in his hands. “I’m so terribly sorry,” he said to me, extending the tray in my direction and whipping off the cover. “There was this terrible gunfight, the ceiling collapsed, the police came by, and my provisioner ran short of the specimens I wanted. I would have been here sooner except for that. Allow me to offer you the best Caladrina‘s has to serve — my own creation.” On the tray was a large mound of tan and brown eggs, tucked among stalks of deep green and brown, and little delicate scalloped leaves that stuck up artfully through little shells laid carefully atop the eggs. Tiny red-orange fruits peeped out here and there, strewn so as to frame the eggs and accent the leaves. Carefully inserted to stand in a ring near the outer edge of the tray was a row of pepper stalks, soaked in a golden sauce. “It’s beautiful!” I said. I looked closer. Using a long thin fork, Caladrina speared one egg at the edge of the tray, swiped it against the sauce on one stalk, and presented it to me, gooey golden filaments floating behind it. “Try this,” he said. “You won’t be disappointed.” I wanted to ask, “What is it?” but decided to plunge ahead. On impulse I motioned him to put the egg in my mouth himself. He beamed, edged closer with the fork, and then I remembered. With my mouth still open, my eyes wandered back to the tray, where now I saw the leaves as wing-membranes, the little shells as wing-cases, and the darker ovoids as roasted beetles. “Wait,” I said. Caladrina froze, then frowned. “Is something wrong?” My mind raced. “A drink would be good with this.” His face lit up. Behind him, Naudi snickered at me. Caladrina drew back the fork, placed it gently on the heap of beetles, and stooped to pick up a decanter. “Of course. I did not forget that you especially appreciate usuli at times like this.” With a flourish, he produced a bristling handful of tall glasses as thin as my fingers, and waved to the others. We all took glasses, he poured each one full of usuli, and we inhaled its expensive fragrance. I had smelled usuli just once before, when I was little, but I’d never forgotten the powerful effect of its scent. It was enough to make a man the size of Drasstar weak in the knees — so sweet, so rich and spicy. And I’d heard stories about the drugs in it, the dreaminess… Drasstar took another fork, speared a beetle, raised it high, and said, “Daylight down the shaft.” He bit the beetle in half, grinned at me with one small stalk — a leg — sticking from the corner of his mouth, chewed, and slugged back the usuli. It was time. If I’d made it on stage, I could do this. I raised the glass, motioned to Caladrina to feed me the egg, and bit down. The sauce spread honey through me; the egg tasted salty and woody, with a hint of florals and legumes, and I ate it. Hunger kicked in. I sipped the usuli, my legs wavering just a bit, and then the beetles started to look good. “Marvelous,” I said. Caladrina looked as if he would faint with joy. Now Grioskin smiled, and I said, “Come on. Let’s eat.” The first beetle, with a few red devilberries clinging to it in the sauce, went down in a flash, the berries exploding their tart peppery taste in my throat. The beetle tasted meaty and rich. We ate. I finished my usuli as Caladrina watched, pleased. “You’ll stop by later?” he inquired. “Oh, yes,” I said, the second beetle getting in the way of my words. I sat down, a bit heavily. “Will you stay for the next show?” Caladrina put the tray on the only table space he could find. “Alas, my restaurant is a wreck, and I have to go. I will see you next time. Please accept my apologies.” He inclined his head, then turned and left. Drasstar looked at me. “She sings for him personally once in a while, if she feels like it.” “Oh. Maybe this will all work out, and she’ll be back singing soon.” I didn’t feel any confidence about this, but the usuli wasn’t helping me keep my mouth shut. Drasstar turned to the door, saying, “We’ve got to go back on. Everybody ready?” At that moment Masinarin appeared, and motioned us back into the dressing room. “Thringe is up,” he said. “I got word she wants to come back here, but the guy who’s keeping her won’t let her go yet. Says it’s too dangerous, she needs medshop work. And the blues are all over, even the Hounds. They almost found her yesterday. The CIB is coming here again tonight.” Rashua turned to Drasstar. “What should we do?” He shook his head. “We can’t run. That’s the one thing they’d really want to see, then they’d take us all. One more show to do, then we can go home and rest for another day.” His voice sounded tired. The proprietor of Joovlies, a tall thin woman named Crascha, poked her fuzzy dark head in next to Masinarin. “It’s time. You coming out?” “Yes,” I said. “We need a minute.” “They’re making noise out there,” she said, grinning. “You stuck them to the walls.” She left, with Masinarin behind her. The usuli made my eyes defocus and then snap in again, as if someone was adjusting my brain. “Same songs?” I asked the group. The blues were coming here again. That meant they’d found out something in that test they gave me. Probably something not good. Drasstar nodded. “Now, if you can sing it all the same way twice, you’ll be a professional.” I gathered my cape and led the way out, and in the corridor to the stage I met four new CIB agents coming in. Snap. I froze. The wiry man in the lead said to me, “Please return to the dressing room. We have some more questions to ask you.” |
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Story threads leading to scene WRITING IN THE SALT: |
Story threads leading to scene SHE EXTRACTED A LEG FROM HER MOUTH: * LEJINA'S CHANGE |
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