[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
is revelation without joy? Rosalind said softly, coming down from the
madness of the dreams.
Plato would have loved you, baby. His idealized, perfect youth.
That makes me the dirty old man, I suppose, she said, absently tracing
the edges of Taryn s lips.
I dreamed you were a prince. Not you, exactly, my dear king.
Someone you came from. She couldn t have slept for long, her head
was still foggy. You might not be descended from Alexander, my love.
This was long before his time. She might have been a warrior, but she had
the air of a priest. In the face of death, she was calm, even graceful.
The image came back with the force of a sledgehammer, and the
fog lifted from Rosalind s brain. Exactly who everyone had been became
clear. The prince, the priestess, the fortune-teller. It couldn t be. But Joe
had cautioned her to listen to the message when it came. It appeared,
whole and perfect in her mind. She saw it, every motion, like a dance.
It could finally work. After thousands of years, the symbols were
too perfect to be ignored. Taryn, scion of the prince s line, was royalty.
A drag king. She lived in disguise, had the magic of the trickster, the
cross-dresser, the magic that was both illusion and revelation, the
revealing of the soul in the assumption of identity. She was a warrior,
a soldier on the front lines of the gender wars. She d been raised by
the witch, of the line of the fortune-teller, and so was beloved of the
goddess. She was beloved of the professor, of the line of the priestess,
the heir to arcane formal knowledge.
The cycle that kept happening wasn t all Fate. There had only
been one death foretold so long ago. Rhea s line had spent so many
years fighting it, or taking it on herself, that she d forgotten: death was
simply change from one state to another. The goddess that gave birth
was also the goddess that devoured.
For the Wheel of Fate to turn again, death had to be surrendered
" 254 "
Of Drag Kings & the Wheel of Fate
to. Not in the way of a soldier losing a fight, but of a priest going to
the mystery, the wholehearted abandon of a lover, the madness and
celestial ecstasy of the immolation embrace. The death only persisted
because the passionate resistance would not let it go. It was possible to
end it. It turned her marrow to water, but she knew what had to be done.
Taryn had to accept her own death.
Taryn? She shook her, gently. Her lover s body was like lead.
She didn t respond. Rosalind tried again, gripping her shoulders.
Taryn? Baby, wake up. Her breathing changed, but her eyes remained
glued shut.
Rosalind sighed. Taryn was going to be difficult. She climbed the
length of her body, easing her leg over Taryn s hip. That drew more of
a response from her; Taryn shifted in her sleep. Rosalind fitted herself
to her broad back, sliding an arm around her waist. Taryn s hand closed
on her arm. Good. Rosalind leaned over Taryn s neck, stopping to nip at
the flesh between her shoulder and the hollow of her throat. She trailed
her tongue up to her ear, circled it, and moaned. Oh, Annie
Taryn s eyes flew open. Who the hell is Annie? she demanded,
her voice thick with sleep.
Rosalind sat up and smiled beatifically at her groggy lover. Annie
Lennox. I always did have a crush on her. Sorry, must have been
fantasizing.
Rosalind, what are you talking about?
Sorry, baby. I had to wake you up, and you weren t responding
to anything else.
Taryn sat up, her eyes murderous slits of blue. I m up now. What
was so goddamned important?
I ve got it! I think I do, anyway. We have to wake everyone up,
Rosalind said, springing off the bed.
Taryn s eyes had gone wide when she saw Rosalind throw on
clothing. She sat very still, not comprehending. Now? It can t be past
seven o clock.
Right now. Get Rhea and Joe and everyone and have them come
down to the kitchen. She held out her hand, and Taryn took it. I had
a dream. I think it might be& I think it is the key to ending the cycle
between you and Rhea. Among all of us. I know it s crazy, but what else
has sounded sane here? Go wake them up.
" 255 "
" 256 "
Of Drag Kings & the Wheel of Fate
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
osalind took the center of the kitchen floor like the front of a
Rlecture hall. Every time she d addressed a group of people,
she d been prepared. She d had the time to rehearse, take notes, rehearse
again, to know exactly what she was going to say. Some people can
speak with no warning on any topic. Ellie was one. Ellie had explained
to Rosalind, once, that all you have to do is look like you know what
you re talking about. Most people listen with their eyes.
This was different. Rosalind found herself standing in the middle
of the kitchen floor, facing an audience whose lives she wanted to
change, and she had no idea of what to say. There was no mastery to be
had of this topic. It was the realm of dreams, of poets and lovers and
madwomen, of stubborn insistence on moving the Wheel of Fate.
Rosalind closed her eyes and thought of a golden snake, coiled
about a branch of a dogwood tree. She took a deep breath, then another,
and opened her eyes to see the people before her. Joe was the perfect
audience, leaning forward on his chair, eyebrows curved in question.
Goblin sat with her back against the wall, tipping her chair up on two
legs and swinging her ankles. Laurel and Taryn sat at the counter.
Taryn was four feet from her right hand, close enough for Rosalind
to imagine that she could feel the heat radiating from Taryn. And then
there was Rhea.
Rhea sat opposite Joe, and if Taryn hadn t been born with presence,
she could have learned it at this woman s feet. Her eyes were hints of
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]