Wind in the Hands
Chapter 40. Divine reed pipe
The Chief of the security service received a hot report: somebody has passed the test of the warriors of desert. That meant that the events got out of control. The riots that had such a trump card are certain to violate the peace treaty. Disturbances will arise, while his agency aims at crushing opposition and acts of protest in the egg. Description of a man who passed through the tunnel made him shudder, and in a few minutes, another message came, the one from a personal agent, very close to the warriors of desert. The message contained just a single word. The Chief lost control completely. However, there was nobody to blame, he overlooked the affair despite the Seer’s warning. People kind and fair are everywhere, they are sure to report his incompetence.
The Chief fussed over how to solve the situation without loss. To present the matter as a planned operation, with the Stranger being a well-placed agent, who had a mission to destroy a dangerous religious order? Then the question arises, how could he pass through the Tunnel of death? There are some versions: There is no, and never has been, death in the tunnel. He did not pass through it at all. The Stranger is a hypnotist none the worse than the Seer, he made them think that he entered the tunnel and went out. The versions are raw, they will fail a thorough test, yet the commission is unlikely to be formed to investigate the affair. Now, it is important to keep a wary eye on what is happening in the City, to contact the Stranger, and then, maybe, everything is to turn up trumps. The Chief immediately made all necessary arrangements.
The Stranger was regarding with curiosity the streets of the City out of the window of the taxi. He has not set foot on its pavements and squares for many years. The lines recurred to him:
And clouds are floating above the City,
Covering the sky-blue color,
And above the town there’s a yellow smoke,
The City is two thousand years old,
Lived through under the light of the star
Called Sun...
And there’s a war over two thousand years,
A war without special causes.
A war the work of the youth,
A medicine against wrinkles…
And we know that it has always been like this,
That we like more the destiny
Who’s living according to other rules
And who’s doomed to die young.
He doesn’t remember the word “yes“ and the word “no“,
He doesn’t remember neither the deeds, nor the names.
And able to reach the stars,
Not reckoning that this is a dream,
And falling, scorched by the star called Sun…
A waft of the Wind appeared, then, the words were speaking of something important. The Stranger asked the driver to stop the car.
“We were right to get out here, it would be silly to take the wraps off the address,” the Soldier approved.
“Do you understand that I am not associated with the ancient prophecies?” the Stranger asked.
“You have passed the Tunnel of Death! Only the Man of God was able to do that.”
“I know two people who can feel traps, and there are many not familiar to me! If a man has time reserved to live and die, nothing will happen to him before. You know this better. However, one must not tempt fate or play with death. First, you never know your fate, and second, you violate the law of value of life when put your life in the line. Yes, I have passed the Tunnel of Death, but I was supported. God hindered me from falling down. Perhaps, I am to do something more important.”
“Whatever the case, only the chosen one could pass the Tunnel. As for me, I wouldn’t be able to pass, though I checked my abilities with a revolver bullet. Do not be surprised, I’ll tell you. A six-shooter, with one bullet in the cylinder, rotate several times not to know where it is. Then I put the revolver to the chin, call for silence and feel… If all is well, I move the trigger. If not, shoot the gun in the air. I was young and silly then, wanted to hit fancy of the friends and women, and needed money, of course.”
“Never mistaken?” the Stranger smiled.
“As you can see. And you know what? Your deed will affect everybody, especially, the warriors of desert,” the Soldier uttered confidently.
“This is what I’m afraid most of all. People like miracles. An especial kind of entertainment they are willing to have every day. I am not the Seer, who can impress on a man that he is eating watermelon instead of onion, and I cannot catch one’s imagination. My power does not belong to me; I speak and do not on my behalf.”
“And what about the Seer? Wasn’t it God who gifted him?”
“I don’t know. However, I feel it is something different, some other spirit. He has suffered sleepwalking since childhood, could warn of disasters, hear thoughts, find lost things, and control both his own will and the will of others. The Seer can manage his power, but I cannot. It is hard to imagine that God can help to find an object hidden by a spectator for a laugh of the audience. And whether one could question it?”
“Well then, who helps him?”
“Every person has some or other inborn abilities, some people improve their skills, some other laze away or they merely don’t know how to develop them. This is like training a body. One waters building up physique for years. Another inherits the power, if you prefer, genetically, so he has not to turn himself inside out, and some other resort to doping, which gives immediate result and bad consequences. However, eventually, without training, abilities will tarnish.”
“I see…” the Soldier nodded. “We are in the City at last. It seems to me that not three days passed but a lifetime. Do you know, what’s next?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. I’d like to rest a little, take a shower and nap.”
“We will come soon. The Seer is waiting for us.”
“The Bird is waiting for me.”
“What a bird?”
“The girl we took along with us. I have called her the Bird.”
“Like a song about a bird,” the Soldier gave a wink.
“A bird is so anxious to fly!
That bird has a mother with wings,
That bird has a father with wings,
But it cannot fly as if had no mind,
It cannot fly, nothing more…”
“Not exactly:
A needless person in the street
Was seeking love obstinately.
I left the matter for the end,
I told myself again:
Nothing to fight for,
Nothing to share,
This is the thing
Useless be angry
Over there
I am a bird…”
“Why does this song reflect the essence?” the Soldier laughed.
“Remember something:
The fire stank not far away,
A crane was falling down soft,
The stars were spiting, the liftman
Found out the truth…
The roofs could see sunset afar,
The walls remembered awful war,
But I am happy, I am glad,
That someone happy…”
“The fire stank,” the Soldier took thought. “The Seer also paid attention to some fire.”
“That’s a given. Rhymes like dreams: sometimes worthless, but can be prophetic. Information can be transferred in many ways, including rhymes. Poets, the people with delicate psyche, can catch heavenly signals to translate them into words. A wise man said: “I understood that poets create poetry not through wisdom, but through especial spirit and inspiration: they, like prophets, utter beautiful things not seeing the point”.
“Tell me, why do gifted poets, so called divine reed pipes, not only poets, but also some other dowered people die young?”
“Precious wine can be poured both in a golden cup and in a plastic glass. The glass is throwaway, while the cup is too expensive to discard.”
“How to define, who is made of gold and who is plastic?”
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“By behavior. The plastic glass raises a big smoke,” the Stranger smiled. “A carrier of important information takes great risks if his lifestyle is not worthy of revelations. To whom more is committed, from him more is required. The chosen ones always bear risks: they are between a rock and a hard place. God is merciful, while people are not in the least.”
“I wonder where you are. How will the servants of God take your doubtful company?”
“People consolidate in front of common disaster.”
“What disaster? What are you talking about? All disasters come from people, or you mean a natural disaster?”
“The wave will cover everybody, do not stay on the shore at this moment,” the Stranger explained.
“So, what if a righteous servant of God is also on the shore at the moment, then the wave will not cover the beach, won’t it?”
“Maybe, but the righteous people know what will happen, and alert the others. All the same, who listens to them? After all, both now and always, the righteous were wandering about deserts and hills, caves and chasms, suffering from scorching sun and heavy downpour, instead of sitting under the tent on the beach sipping a shake and staring at girls in bikini.”
“Do you know at least one righteous man?”
“The Hermit. To tell the truth, I do not encourage monkhood. A lamp should not be covered with an opaque cap, it is also must not be lit up under the bed. After all, it is designed to give light to much everyone’s delight. When not exposed to ordeal, one cannot define whether he is righteous. Human essence can be revealed only in emergency. In the desert, dangerous situations are more than enough, but we cannot choose between bad and the worst-case scenario, so, it is not what I mean exactly. Everyone has a weak point. And everyone can be thrown dirt at. The most important thing is to get out clean, realize the weak point, and never fall down any more. We gave a chance to the Bird, time will tell whether she makes use of it or not.”
“Did you fall down often?” the Soldier recollected his dossier.
“Things happened, but I fell into more often.”
“Got into a mess?”
“To the point.”
“So, what is reserved for us?”
“Don’t know. To my certain knowledge, everything will pan out differently from what we figure. It is possible to see the future, but this is just a reflection of some or other deeds, thoughts and dreams of ours. As for me, I am interested in making choice, the right choice.”
The Medium was standing on the balcony. Hardly had she seen the familiar images when she ran out towards them, gave a nod to the Soldier and embraced the Stranger.
“Pleased to see you.”
“May I have a wash and rest a little?”
“Sure, but the bath is occupied by the girl the Seer has brought. The bath is rather large though, there’s room for both,” the Medium looked at him crafty.
“I will wait.”
The woman shrugged her shoulders. The Seer was standing by the open window smoking.
“Anything’s happened?” the Stranger asked.
“Disaster hovers over the City. This place has reached rock bottom. A single sparkle will make everything flame up,” the Seer said under his breath.
“It is not too late to leave the City, or, even, the country. Take our friends and leave,” the Stranger suggested.
“I will not go,” the Soldier said firmly. “I am with you. And now to the end.”
“Let’s clear up the situation to decide on whether to go or not,” the mistress was excited. The Seer’s sinister pale face inspired her with fear.
“He would stay even if he foreknew that he would be killed. This man does not decide for himself. The only thing you right on is that we must get ready,” the Seer said.
“You had better go, indeed. I can show you something to make you see that the place is getting too hot to stay here. You have helped me to reach the City, but now you must run away!”
“Later. Rest a little. You have a headache.”
The Stranger smiled.
The Seer came up to him and touched the aching point.
“No. The problem is not here…” he put his palm to the Stranger’s neck. “Lie on you back.”
The Stranger lied obediently. The Seer put one hand on the top of the head, the other to the chin. The Soldier toughened (with such a movement neck bones can be broken easily) and moved towards the Seer in a threatening way, but the latter just curled lips.
“Relax the head. Exhale!” the Seer shouted simultaneously pressing the head and chin, and gave a sudden twiddle to the side, then to the other way round. A loud click was heard.
“The block is removed. Get up slowly, then sit for a minute, and go to the bathroom. It is vacant now,” the Seer pointed at the staircase to the second floor.
“Thank you. It became easier now,” the Stranger thanked, made a few steps, and wavered. The Soldier ran up to him to look into his eyes.
“I am all right,” the Stranger gave him a wink while walking upstairs.
The Bird dressed in a snow-white bathrobe hung on his neck raining kisses upon him. He embraced her continently.
“Ask a towel for me.”
He went to the bathroom and opened the tap. Water was relieving nervous stress. In the meanwhile, the Bird found the mistress.
“Okay. I’ll bring him the bathrobe,” the Medium responded.
“I’ll bring it myself,” the Bird was persistent. The Medium peered into the girl’s face.
“A poor thing, she fell in love with him.”
“They passed the Tunnel of death together,” the Seer interfered, angered. “Give her what she asked.”