 XIII. Thanu 3:00 PM The roar of the motorboat frightened a flock of ducks bobbing along the surface of Lake Shayadoh like oddly shaped corks. They rose from the lake with a few flaps of their wings, squawking in annoyance. The dark cloud of fowl delighted Tuesday as he stood at the prow of the motorboat. He yowled and let the cool autumn air ruffle his fur. The boat skimmed the water effortlessly, rarely sending spray into the boat. But even if a little water splattered on him, Tuesday didn’t care. They were nearing an island. He was eager to explore a little new territory without the annoying, wussy bulldog yapping at his heels. “I swear, he looks just like a ship cat,” said Reine. “Perhaps he was a sailor in his past life.” “Cats don’t have past lives as sailors,” sniffed Xanthia. “They’re just familiars.” At Xanthia’s voice, Tuesday’s large expressive ears pricked up and he turned around to glare at the astrologer. She didn’t appear to notice the cat’s scrutiny. Tuesday softly hissed. The woman was an idiot. “Humans on the other hand,” Xanthia continued, “have past lives.” “Reincarnation?” said Hadrian, amused. He stuck a finger over the side of the boat to feel the cold water. “You believe that stuff?” “I took a class on self-hypnosis. I discovered that I had three past lives before. All very interesting.” “My wife once dragged me to a seminar on hypnosis when she was in her new age phase,” the Baron said as he navigated and adjusted the dials for the motor. He was using everyone’s bags and supplies as a seat. “The guru hypnotized this one woman and to show that she had lost all inhibition, he made her squawk like a chicken.” “Isn’t getting hypnotized supposed to be putting your mind into an alternate state?” said Marcus. “I heard that you could use it to cure phobias and add confidence.” “Sure. And you could make people do things that they wouldn’t ordinarily do,” Hadrian added. “Now that’s sort of scary. You could hypnotize someone and tell him or her they’re supposed to steal something or kill somebody when he or she sees or hears a signal. And when they’re in their right mind, they have no idea that they were given such a directive.” Reine shook her head, smiling. “Hadrian, you’ve been reading too many mysteries with conspiracy plots.” “Hey, that’s what I do for a living.” “I had three past lives,” Xanthia continued as if no one had interrupted her. “My first past life was in ancient Mesopotamia. I was a priestess. My second, I was a witch doctor who traveled with some nomads in the Sahara desert. And in my third past life, I was a courtesan in the Sun King’s court.” Reine raised an eyebrow. “I thought witch doctors practiced voodoo in the Congo,” said Hadrian. “In South Africa,” Marcus corrected. “If you had so many past lives,” said the Baron, “How can you keep them all straight in your head? I mean how wouldn’t you get confused with all the different memories?” “I don’t.” “Hey, I think I see a pier over there,” Reine interrupted. The Baron nodded. “People come to the island fairly often for camping or making a base for fishing. So of course there’s a pier. And it’s a good thing too. I wouldn’t like wading in the water to get the boat launched.” The Baron maneuvered the boat next to the dock and killed the engine. Tuesday made a graceful leap to the pier and watched for a moment as Hadrian toped the rope onto one of the pillars, tethering the boat to the pier. Then the cat trotted off, whiskers trembling in excitement, to discover a new land. Awkwardly, Xanthia was the next one to stumble out, readjusting her turban and shiny robes which had little speckles on the hem from the spraying water. She peered curiously at the island now that she was close up. Pines and other evergreens lined the shore like sentinels, obscuring all view of the interior. Absently, she helped arrange the backpacks onto the pier as the others clambered out. “It’s a little hike into the interior,” the Baron said as he adjusted the straps on his hiking pack and stamped his booted feet onto the pier, enjoying the hollow sound he made. “It’s about a half an hour walk. There’s a small trail from here to the main campsite. We’ll probably have to set up camp when we get there. It gets pretty dark early. We wouldn’t want anyone getting lost in the woods at night.” “If we get lost, Reine can find the way out again,” said Marcus. “She has better sense of direction than me.” “Sure,” she replied. “I don’t know about my sense of direction, but we should keep in mind not to ask you for directions.” As the humans tramped noisily down the path that began where the pier met the ground and wound a little along the shore before disappearing into the vegetation, Tuesday investigated a tree. He had thought he had seen a squirrel scamper up the trunk before disappearing into the leaves above. For a moment, he debated on whether or not to climb the tree, but ultimately decided that he was much to dignified to climb. Besides, it would have been awkward to be stuck up in the branches only to have someone rescue him. He scampered back to the others and trotted next to Reine’s feet. “This is a bit more messier than I had imagined,” said the astrologer. “What do you mean?” said the Baron as he walked confidently ahead a ways up the path. “This hiking. I had not thought about the rather damp nature of the forest after yesterday’s storm. I had heard about wiccans going camping so that they could commune with nature. They often go skyclad in order to be closer to nature.” “Well, you haven’t seen anything yet if this little jaunt is anything to judge by.” “Maybe you should have borrowed some more practical clothes before coming with us,” said Hadrian as the astrologer narrowly had her turban snatched from her head from an overhanging branch. “More practical clothing?” she said, giving him a disapproving look. “This is practical clothing. It’s made of a special fabric and designed to keep you warm in cold weather and cool during warm weather. It’s based on a design from some of the geniuses during the Renaissance.” “I didn’t know there were geniuses in tailoring clothing,” said Hadrian blithely as the astrologer again sent him another annoyed look. “Maybe if you tell me the secret of your clothing I could set up a sweatshop and make millions at it.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Maybe she’s right,” said Reine. “You can’t make millions with clothing unless you’re one of those fashion designers in Paris or something. You could go into stock brokering though considering you live so close to Wall Street.” “I don’t live that close to Wall Street,” said Hadrian. “Besides, I don’t have a business degree. I’m stuck in publishing and you know it.” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |