Descending Road - SPIRES OF STABBING GAMMALIGHT by Dana W. Paxson

SPIRES OF STABBING GAMMALIGHT

1563 4D

Turiosten shuddered with cross-quakes in her strata of manifolds, catastrophes of astonishment. Another. Could it really be another? It unclasped now in this crevice where the humans lived. And now qaqanhialh, and she’d wanted so much to find another of her own after so long; she and the other would make the hanhorhn, to see how they would emerge, though all was known, that all this would open the great way they loved to sing over, every cycle since the last opening and before the next when the orifice would close, and the songs of mourning would cast themselves back through time and aggro like black-red waves of polegroups clashing.

How these humans fought, most of all this Andrew. She loved them and ate the dead ones and fed the living ones with herself, to await their unfoldings and upflight into the Pass she couldn’t take. Many folds away, many turns ago, some of the humans had called it the Gate. Were they the ancestors of these who now called her Turiosten? Turiosten: a name, they clung to names for everything as if things were separate and not flowing out and in each other.

Andrew named this new thing Onnashak, could he mean Onnhasshakh the renegade, yes, that must be it, the one who broke the clasped sheaves and vanished in spires of stabbing gammalight. Could it be so? After so long alone, could she share hanhorhn with this great one?

She surged eagerly against Andrew, pleaded as he pulled his body away through space so quickly that she lost Onnhasshakh in the foldings. She could stop Andrew, freeze his body as before, make him move as she wished. No. He had opened the sheaf from Arlen, a gift to her, freedom from that garhghoel; she burrowed in the sheavings and waited. Onnhasshakh would come to her. Already it had swallowed the other spark, Jeddin, oh, that Jeddin, when he’d fallen past her in the metatrix he’d cast long lights among high shade pooling in the surtrees' branches.

“Jeddin, speak to me. What is it saying to you?” Turiosten‘s words danced like hairs in light wind. No answer came back.

Andrew stopped and held the other, Leil, in his arms. Didn’t he understand that Leil was dying? Maybe he did.

Turiosten spoke to him. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. This is the best way.”

Shut up. I’d like these last few beats for myself. He refused comfort. Turiosten didn’t understand this. She had done so much for him. Maybe he thought this was death. So angry all the time.

“But you don’t understand—“

Shut up. And he turned from her, his light shading away to underbrown. If only he would listen. She had wanted to tell him more about the kharshfainh that hid so near him, get him to hunt for it with her, but no, in innerspace he slept like all the other humans. That wouldn’t work, unless—

And now she faced Onnhasshakh. Would this creature engulf the kharshfainh along with Jeddin and Andrew and Leil? Turiosten reached through dimension after dimension, trying to find the huge thing that now held Jeddin; but it eluded her, a hint of light slicing here and there aslant the dancing fields of umber shade.

If Andrew could just be like Jeddin now, awake and human in the higher place, even the kharshfainh couldn’t hide from him. He would hear it sing, and weave the song in his own secretions of sense, and his kind would call him a Rumi, a Mozart, a Trezardin, an Amitabha, a Ramanujan, one of those magicians from the ancient world, and he would die; and then the kharshfainh would move on. And she, Turiosten, would follow it with joy.

The great masses and energies moved in rhyme, and this sun and its planets and their moons drove the cross-capped thrusts of qaqanhialh deeper in her. Qaqanhialh would open the way. The skin of Onnhasshakh touched Andrew‘s; vast terror and amazement assailed Turiosten. She spread all her fourfolds wide. Mirroring her, the oncoming of Onnhasshakh knotted with every skein in her outer surfaces. Now she knew. Gathering up Jeddin and Andrew and Leil, she danced with Onnhasshakh, and hanhorhn began.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SPIRES OF STABBING GAMMALIGHT 1563 4D Turiosten shuddered with cross-quakes in her strata of manifolds, catastrophes of astonishment. Another. Could it really be another? It unclasped now in this crevice where the humans lived. And now qaqanhialh, and she’d wanted so much to find another of her own after so long; she and the other would make the hanhorhn, to see how they would emerge, though all was known, that all this would open the great way they loved to sing over, every cycle since the last opening and before the next when the orifice would close, and the songs of mourning would cast themselves back through time and aggro like black-red waves of polegroups clashing. How these humans fought, most of all this Andrew. She loved them and ate the dead ones and fed the living ones with herself, to await their unfoldings and upflight into the Pass she couldn’t take. Many folds away, many turns ago, some of the humans had called it the Gate. Were they the ancestors of these who now called her Turiosten? Turiosten: a name, they clung to names for everything as if things were separate and not flowing out and in each other. Andrew named this new thing Onnashak, could he mean Onnhasshakh the renegade, yes, that must be it, the one who broke the clasped sheaves and vanished in spires of stabbing gammalight. Could it be so? After so long alone, could she share hanhorhn with this great one? She surged eagerly against Andrew, pleaded as he pulled his body away through space so quickly that she lost Onnhasshakh in the foldings. She could stop Andrew, freeze his body as before, make him move as she wished. No. He had opened the sheaf from Arlen, a gift to her, freedom from that garhghoel; she burrowed in the sheavings and waited. Onnhasshakh would come to her. Already it had swallowed the other spark, Jeddin, oh, that Jeddin, when he’d fallen past her in the metatrix he’d cast long lights among high shade pooling in the surtrees' branches. “Jeddin, speak to me. What is it saying to you?” Turiosten‘s words danced like hairs in light wind. No answer came back. Andrew stopped and held the other, Leil, in his arms. Didn’t he understand that Leil was dying? Maybe he did. Turiosten spoke to him. “I’m glad you’re being sensible. This is the best way.” Shut up. I’d like these last few beats for myself. He refused comfort. Turiosten didn’t understand this. She had done so much for him. Maybe he thought this was death. So angry all the time. “But you don’t understand—“ Shut up. And he turned from her, his light shading away to underbrown. If only he would listen. She had wanted to tell him more about the kharshfainh that hid so near him, get him to hunt for it with her, but no, in innerspace he slept like all the other humans. That wouldn’t work, unless— And now she faced Onnhasshakh. Would this creature engulf the kharshfainh along with Jeddin and Andrew and Leil? Turiosten reached through dimension after dimension, trying to find the huge thing that now held Jeddin; but it eluded her, a hint of light slicing here and there aslant the dancing fields of umber shade. If Andrew could just be like Jeddin now, awake and human in the higher place, even the kharshfainh couldn’t hide from him. He would hear it sing, and weave the song in his own secretions of sense, and his kind would call him a Rumi, a Mozart, a Trezardin, an Amitabha, a Ramanujan, one of those magicians from the ancient world, and he would die; and then the kharshfainh would move on. And she, Turiosten, would follow it with joy. The great masses and energies moved in rhyme, and this sun and its planets and their moons drove the cross-capped thrusts of qaqanhialh deeper in her. Qaqanhialh would open the way. The skin of Onnhasshakh touched Andrew‘s; vast terror and amazement assailed Turiosten. She spread all her fourfolds wide. Mirroring her, the oncoming of Onnhasshakh knotted with every skein in her outer surfaces. Now she knew. Gathering up Jeddin and Andrew and Leil, she danced with Onnhasshakh, and hanhorhn began.