Then we just sit on the bench, or rather lie on it. Quite likely in accordance with the wisdom of ancient texts regarding the appropriate behavior for lovers. The oak shuffles from root to root and shifts so that we end up in its shadow. Of course, it might just be the sun moving in the sky. But I prefer to think it’s the oak.
I fall asleep, for real this time. Mermaid’s presence, her hugging my knee—it acts like a sleeping pill. She has this catlike ability to induce calm and drowsiness, and also to sleep herself in the most uncomfortable places. If only I had fingers I could have conjured sparks out of her hair, the kind cats give off when someone strokes their fur. I sleep and not sleep at the same time. I am on the bench here and now but everything else moves away—the writing on the bark, the conversation with Ralph. Everything except me, asleep, and my girl. The girl who wears my old shirts, sleeps curled up on my legs as if they were an easy chair, wraps herself in the sleeves of my jacket, disappears at the first rumble of a thunderstorm and reappears again once the sun is back out. It’s her most incredible feature, that limitless capacity for empathy, for picking up someone else’s mood, for dissolving into thin air when that’s what is needed.
Someone’s voice on the wind. I startle and open my eyes. My leg is free of hair, and Mermaid’s face is looking down at me, very somber and intense. She’s only like that when she’s sure no one can see her.
“Every little thing wakes you up,” she says. “The tiniest peep. I don’t like that. You should sleep calmly and soundly.”
“Snoring and heaving my broad hairy chest,” I say. “Except I wouldn’t call those Hound howls tiny peeps. I wonder what’s gotten into them. Probably the freshly minted Leader flexing his muscles?”
“Not freshly at all. You just can’t get used to it.”
It’s true, I’m having a hard time accepting the fact of Black becoming the Sixth’s Leader. Even though upon reflection that’s exactly the place for him. Pompey’s throne didn’t even need adjusting for size, and Hounds received what they constantly crave—a strong, steady hand on the collar.
“You know what’s funny?” Mermaid says. “The way your voice changes when you talk about Black. It’s not even yours anymore. I can’t understand why you hate him so much.”
“Didn’t I explain about a dozen times already?”
“You did. But I don’t believe your explanations. You aren’t that vindictive, to keep hating someone just because he bullied you a long time ago. It’s not like you at all.”
She sounds so sure of what she’s saying that it makes me uneasy. I am not the flawless, ideal Sphinx she fell in love with. And that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I would very much like to be him. That just, kind, magnanimous guy she likes so much. If I were like that I’d probably have acquired a halo by now. Shined with divine light and trailed heavenly fragrance, like a saint.
“It is too like me. It
Mermaid doesn’t even argue, just bites on her finger and goes pensive. She detests arguments. Having to prove and defend her point of view. Which does not make her position any weaker. Not in the slightest.
I bump her lightly with my forehead.
“Hey. Don’t go too far. I can’t see you all the way over there.”
“Tell me something interesting,” she says immediately. “Then I’ll stay.”
“What about?”
Mermaid’s face lights up. It’s amazing how she loves stories. All kinds, it doesn’t matter. Lary’s tedious laments, stumbling over each syllable, Jackal’s epics, convoluted and branching in all directions—nothing fazes her. She’s ready to spend hours listening to anyone who’d have an urge to unburden themselves in her company. This to me is her most unusual quality, one the least common in her gender.
“So, what kind of story?” I ask, unable to resist her infectious eagerness.
“Tell me how Black became Leader.”
“Not Black again! What’s so special about him?”
“You offered a story and asked what kind. I’m interested to hear about him because to me he’s interesting. As someone you dislike.”
“Dislike, now there’s an understatement.”
“You see? How can that be not interesting?”
I can only sigh in response.
“So you don’t want to tell me a story anymore?” she asks, or rather clarifies. “Just as I thought.”
“No, that’s not it. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I don’t really know how it happened. I think I can guess. He and Blind were stuck in the Cage. Nothing to do. Blind got this bright idea to send Black to the Sixth as Leader. That wouldn’t be the most bizarre thing that someone came up with while in there. So he suggested it, and miracle of miracles, Black agreed, even though it’s completely against his principles to agree when he can refuse. And that’s how it came about. It might not have been exactly this way, but I wasn’t there, and no one was, apart from the two of them, which means that only they can know for sure what really happened.”
“How come they were stuck there together?”
