Diran receives guidance from many creatures and dreams of paradise
“Fly…,” Diran repeated breathlessly, “You mean for me to fly? But how? You know there isn’t any magic with me.” His hunched form was a mix of amazement and suspicion.
Lami nodded sagely and explained, but only so much as necessary, “It is possible, through this thread that you must know to be special, to harness the power of flight for a time. I will show you the way, but the journey must be yours alone.” With that, Lami gingerly clasped the thread with two fingers and pulled it from the box, holding it aloft so that its luminance danced across their faces.
Diran stared deeply into the candescent material and asked, “You can cast a spell with this token?” He reached to grab hold of it but Lami pulled it away gently, “No spell shall be cast, for with this thread you may become weightless and, through some other force, be lifted skybound. There is but one being on which you can rely for this mission.” There was only the slightest pause and then Diren mouthed, “Thizen…” His eyes widened and he nearly shouted, “But she’d never!”
Lami nodded, “That is why you must not be seen.” They turned to admire the portrait that now sat propped up by the chest, “It is true that the power that surrounds her is potent, but there is yet a way to best her senses. As those of the lower realm are sworn to never gaze upwards, those above likewise remain ignorant of what is beneath them. I cannot fathom why she deigns to set foot in our realm, but she surely will not gaze back down in her ascent.”
“Then the thread,” Diran started and Lami continued, “You must cast it so that it is secured to the princess. Then you will be made airborne after her and shall follow her form into the clouds. This is your one and only path to the upper realm.” Diran nodded slowly, taking in the instructions, “Lami…are you sure this is possible?”
They replied, “I was with Father Polmer today, he spoke kindly of you.” Diran scoffed and interjected, “That’s because I give him many memories.” Lami smiled and carried on gently, “It is not merely memories that he cherishes so…ah well. Diran, Father Polmer knows you well and his word says you are bound to succeed. It is possible.” With that, Lami proffered the silver thread with a firm hand.
Diran took hold of the thread and his eyes fell upon it for some time. Then, he gazed into those dark eyes and started, “Lami, you…,” but stopped himself short. Lami was silent, then they stood and shut the chest tight. Diran felt a number of questions rise to his throat but he knew that all that would be said had been said, so he forced them down like bile.
He bent down and picked up the framed portrait, tenderly positioning it on the table so that the candle light gently illuminated the features of the ethereal mistress. Diran felt himself drawn to her necklace; the platinum band was very large and, although it was of simple make, he was charmed by the design that wound around her slender neck like a serpent. He burned the princess’ features into his mind so that he could recall her noble countenance that shined forth from beneath the veil, and then he was at the threshold. He was still for just a moment before stepping through with the silver thread at his breast.
It was the start of a great journey but, as he found himself a pedestrian once more, Diran was overcome with a great terror—the magnitude of his quest had dawned in his mind. He turned back to the comfortable Linke Fleur but was faced with two great dragons, whose ivory scales were shields in his eyes and he realized that he could not return through the threshold.
He knew that, at this hour, there would be no hope of sighting his target, so Diran thought to wait for the day. But as he moved to retire, someone called out from down the street, “Diran!” He turned to appreciate the form of the barmaid Khoba, who emerged from the darkness. “Khoba,” he called, “what brings you here?”
Khoba, whose apron bore the odor of sweet fennel, replied, “Jun sent me to see to it that you are home safely. She worried you might go mad and hurried me after you. Your talk of Green Fairies and Spires has concerned us but you are now calm, I see.”
Diran realized belatedly that his ramblings must have reached Khoba’s kind spouse through the thin walls. He shook his head and admitted, “I’m really not.” Khoba cocked her head and he continued, “There is a mission which, if completed, might bring me to paradise.” Khoba, who knew the man well, responded, “Then why are you afraid?”
“Because,” he sighed, “I fear failure.” He looked down, despondent. At that, Khoba took the man harshly by the shoulders and reprimanded, “Nonsense! Not once in your life have you been struck so still by cowardice.” He was reminded of that Green Fairy who was surely watching over him and shuddered. Khoba continued in accusation, “You fear that paradise will not bring as much joy as the thought of paradise brings hope.” Diran said nothing but slumped further. The barmaid released him and sighed, “I’m glad to see you of sound mind and body.”
Diran trudged down the road and Khoba followed. “Tell me of paradise,” she offered, and the man heaved a great sigh. “There is so much to tell but you’d find it unclear and absurd.” She winced, recalling her accusations of madness, but replied, “Supposing I do, it shall do your heart a great service to speak freely for once.”
As if some tense floodgates had been upset, a torrent escaped the tired man’s lips, “I recall that there was a time when we, children, tried to make our way from the east coast. We had, by our own effort, bound with rope a rickety craft of planks. Of the five of us, it was myself and one other, not yourself, who sat atop the great vehicle and launched it towards the waves.”
Khoba recalled those days, years past, and said, “I believed it was your failure that day that so changed you.” Diran smiled fondly and shook his head, “It was the prior day that my mind was so affected. For, in anticipation of our journey, I scouted our path ahead. Atop the greatest rock on the coast, I gazed out across the blue expanse.”
“Surely you saw…”
“Nothing. There was nothing but the waves there. It was then that I knew our journey to be fruitless.” Khoba contemplated for a moment, “Then why were you aboard the craft?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. Diran replied wistfully, “I had hoped my eyes were deceived.”
There was, again, a silence between the two old friends. Then Diran continued, “But now I know there to be a paradise. In the sky, amidst the clouds, under the Carpet, I saw a luminous land of golden spires. Oh, its beauty is unrivalled, Khoba, and I long for its gentle touch.”
Khoba’s silence spoke volumes and he stood, dejected. Then, he raised his head and said, “You do not believe me but surely, if you would raise your head, you would behold that glorious place as well!” He raised his finger into the sky to implore her to join in his bliss but she raised her palm, “You shall not be bound by the strictures of our realm but I have made a life; it is not in my nature to pursue paradise so far. But I might be pleased if, one day, Atlantis be builded here atop Gomus’s mills.”
Diran understood his friend and knew that she would not be moved by his words. So, he said to her, “I see. Then I shall retire for the night; I must prepare for my journey. Surely you are missed by Jun and should return to your home?” His smile implored the barmaid to leave him and she abided, “Then I bid you good night, Diran. I hope you will make your farewells proper.” He nodded and called after her receding form, “I will!”
Then he walked down the street at his own pace, which was a step slower, and it was not long before he encountered another creature, sat on the side of the street. He came upon the form and greeted him loudly on account of the poorly man’s aging ears, “Father Polmer, you sleep rough far too often.” There was a ghost of a smile on the Father’s lips as he turned to greet his friend with a shallow nod.
Diran took a seat beside him and he felt a warmth of understanding company that loosened his lips. He said, “Father Polmer, I think I shall leave this place for ever.” He knew that his partner had heard and understood him and carried on, “There is so much fear inside me, is it true that I can succeed, that I will succeed? Do you believe I can find the light?”
As he pleaded, the shaky hands, wrinkled but still with some indescribable force behind them, took hold of his own. Diran was calmed by the gesture and his heart was soon settled. With a mature tenderness, Father Polmer reached up and stroked the man’s dusty, curled hair. Diran had no sense of time as the two remained like this for a long while.
Eventually, both sensed that a time had come; the old man moved away and Diran stood, brushing down his coat. He smiled at the familiar creature. There were no more words exchanged between the two, but a deeper understanding of their mutual bond. The thief, whose heart had been pulled in so many ways, left the old man behind on that dusty street and went to retire for the night; his soul dreamed for a long time of dazzling golden towers.
