The deathstone, p.26
The Deathstone, page 26
“And last but not least,” the woman said, “our final entry... Ms. Kristy Talon. Our guest from beyond the ridges.”
Ron started. Chandal looked straight ahead as she led Kristy onto the stage. Through startled eyes he saw Kristy give him a smile. Chandal stopped and positioned Kristy in front of her and he thought he could see her lips quiver. Kristy moved closer to her mother and reached out with her right hand and took hold of Chandal’s hand. She held onto it for what seemed a very long time, and Ron saw Chandal nod in his direction and smile.
The selection process was brief and painful. “Ahhhhh” from the crowd as each child recited a poem. “Ohhhhh”... as each child paraded down a small runway, bowed gracefully, some not so gracefully, to the six judges who sat like statues off to the side regarding each child for a moment with vacant, heavy-lidded eyes. Smiles, good-naturedly, demurring; frowns slightly as each girl’s description was read aloud.
Those who could dance, did. “Ahhhhh.” Those who could not, sang. “Eeeeee.” The crowd, leaping, roared its joy at the end of each performance. Finally Kristy stepped forward. A blue spotlight hit her full, held; the crowd waited, quiet, expectant.
Smiling distantly, she began to sing. Nodding its approval, the crowd listened, swayed. Ron could feel his legs trembling as she reached for the high notes. Perfect. She sang perfectly, confidently.
Fingers tapped Ron lightly on the shoulder. He turned. A thin finger pointed across the hall, leading Ron’s gaze to Beatrice Wheatley who nodded to him with great satisfaction. Others around him spoke. “Oh, she’s darling.” “Such a delight.” The words were picked up by others until they became an ecstatic whisper of sorts. A moment later there was silence once again from the crowd.
Everyone stared admiringly at Kristy.
As she finished her song, she bowed elegantly, and returned to her mother’s side. High screams of delight from the crowd, ear shattering applause. Ron could only clap his hands twice, sharply, and then his arms fell limp at his sides.
“...Well, folks, that was certainly a wonderful performance. But they’ve all been. It’s been a terrific evening all the way, good and spirited with no exceptions. Over in the corner, our judges are working furiously now, trying to decide who our next queen will be. In just a moment, we, the people of Brackston, will have a new queen!”
A sudden high blood-roar from the crowd as everywhere people began to talk, scream, laugh; they began throwing confetti into the air, calling out to their neighbors. Hoots rose from behind masks, jeering—others crouched in the aisles, gnome-like, dressed in costumes and swilled liquor from flasks and bottles.
Ron shook loose from the crowd and shifted his attention to Chandal. She stood straight, looking at him. Her hands which rested on Kristy’s shoulders were trembling. Kristy yawned, looked around calmly, and appeared bored.
From backstage a young boy dashed forward and swung into a locomotive of information. After handing the spokeswoman a slip of paper and after whispering into her ear, he dashed offstage again.
The great hall grew quiet.
The spokeswoman stepped forward and tapped the microphone to make sure it was working, or maybe she just did it for effect. Whatever the case, it had a startling impact on the crowd. Instantly there was a tremendous explosion of voices.
“Tell us! Tell us who will be queen!”
She looked over the crowd with calm austerity, nodded toward the judges. Then glancing down at the paper she held in her hand, she spoke:
“On behalf of myself, the judges, the Ruling Elders, we wish to thank you all for your kind and generous cooperation this evening. Our children are our future. They are our destiny. We place our trust and our hope in their hands. It goes without saying that the judges had a difficult time in making their selection this evening. Yes, very difficult. But they have reached their decision.”
The crowd gasped in delight.
Around him Ron became aware of people staring at him and pointing in his vicinity. He crossed his legs painfully and stared straight ahead, perplexed, feeling impossibly conspicuous.
With suppressed elation, like a young girl who has just been asked out on her first date, the spokeswoman said, “And the winner is...”
Ron held his breath.
“MS. KRISTY TALON!” the woman shrieked, her words echoing back and forth throughout the immeasurable length of the great hall, terrifyingly.
Oh, God, Ron thought. “Please, dear God, no,” he moaned. In great pain, he looked up and saw Chandal kiss Kristy gently on the forehead. Kristy was smiling shyly, squirming a little.
Then Chandal nodded tightly in Ron’s direction, smiling slightly, as gushes of tears streamed down her cheeks.
Around Ron people started to move forward, shuffling respectfully toward him. Beatrice Wheatley hesitated an instant, then started to move down the aisle with Lou Harris and Matthew Todd and many others. They were all coming his way.
As he stared about him with growing fear, Mrs. Taylor appeared, smiling, her starfish of diamonds winking in the multicolored haze of floodlights.
The noise and confusion was intense. Ron found it difficult to maintain his calm and kept glancing around at the crowd of people who all seemed to have their eyes fixed on him. Some peered jealously. Others with elation. All greatly involved in the moment.
“I know, I know...” Mrs. Taylor said. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Wonderful! Just wonderful!” Beatrice Wheatley said in a low, husky voice.
Todd and Harris nodded their congratulations.
“Oh. They’re going ahead with the ceremony,” Mrs. Taylor said.
Everyone around Ron started down toward a small platform now, leaving Ron sitting by himself. At the far edge of the stage he suddenly saw Nancy, dressed in a long flowing white gown, moving into view.
“Nancy!” he called out.
She made a despairing gesture, then moved out of sight behind the black velvet curtain which had been lowered in front of the stage. The curtain rippled now as though there was a great flurry of activity taking place behind it.
The lights darkened a little. “Ahhhhh” from the crowd as again they peered up at the stage with oblique respect. Gradually some of the crowd began to sway with the slow rhythm of a chant, intoning the word more and more rapidly. “Kristy... Kristy... Kristy...” Other voices took up the cry until the hall was shuddering with the chant: “KRISTY!”
The lights dropped still lower, almost to darkness; slowly the curtain rose, its black folds lifting like the wings of a hawk, soaring into the archway above. A hot red spotlight beamed, focused on a huge stone that had been moved onto the stage.
The multitude fell hushed.
Slowly, ever so slowly, a tiny form began to appear atop the stone. The form rose as if being lifted by an escalator. Rose higher, until Kristy emerged full-blown, standing above all things. She was cloaked in gold, a wondrous mantle which flowed from her shoulders in huge, shimmering folds. In her hands she held a small bouquet of red flowers. Her fingers were jeweled, her features radiant; she looked about the hall with authority.
All at once Nancy appeared below. She hesitated before she started to climb the stone steps leading to the top. She moved slowly, ghostlike, her white gown catching fire as she appeared next to Kristy in the red spotlight. She was carrying a gold crown on a blue velvet pillow. With great ceremony, Kristy knelt.
“Ahhhhh” murmured the crowd, gaping, panting, watching Nancy place the crown carefully on the head of their new queen.
Then backing away, Nancy descended the steps and faded into the darkness, the last flickers of whiteness lingering in Ron’s dazed eyes.
In the distance bells had begun to toll.
Instantly there was total darkness except for the searing spotlight, hard to look upon, which was now a shattering yellow. Kristy smiled in satisfaction; rose. Ushers rushed down the aisles, darted among the crowd and began handing them little snakes which they held wriggling in their hands.
Kristy slowly raised her hand in a gesture of benediction, her features serious and beautiful. Ron was stunned to see people falling to their knees in the aisles, bowing their heads, holding their snakes carefully.
The crystal ball above, suspended, began to revolve slowly, sending a million specks of light dancing in the darkness. Kristy peered out catlike. Voices like thunder shouted:
“Behold—the—QUEEN!”
There was a sudden roll of kettledrum, insistent, and above it Ron could hear the bells tolling jubilantly. The crowd grew quiet. Their silence was followed by a tremendous explosion and a fierce mass of flames rose from behind the stone; the crowd shrank back, but still gazed at the child standing in the burning light. All around her now, flames. She smiled upon her subjects in genial majesty. Then, one at a time, she began to toss the red flowers she held into the crowd.
They scrambled frantically for them as though they were gold, fighting among themselves like animals. Kristy gestured for silence. The crowd grew still. Just as suddenly the drums ceased, and a blood-red spotlight hit Kristy with full force.
Overcome, transfixed, Ron watched her bow. Suddenly the multitude rose. Those who were wearing hats or masks removed them. Others remained kneeling in the aisles with their heads bowed. A moment’s hesitation and then Kristy was gone, having disappeared behind the great stone.
The crowd went wild.
“Marvelous, wasn’t it? Just marvelous!” Alister leaned over the back of Ron’s chair and smiled. “I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Mrs. Taylor rushed forward, shouting, “A masterpiece. A masterpiece!”
The lights began to come up slowly. Ron sat in awestrickened silence for a long time. His cheeks burned with humiliation. He bowed his head, as though crushed by the weight of the entire experience.
People insisted on shaking his hand, their tongues wagging, their eyes popping, their smiles manic and distorted. Transported by joy, they milled about, until finally they began moving out the front door.
As the crowd dwindled, the stillness increased. Ron remained seated, staring straight ahead at the stage, at the papier-maché stone, the red streamers which had been used to create the fire effect. The snakes, he now realized, were also fake. One lay at his feet. It was made of rubber.
Wearily he got to his feet. He sighed heavily and moved off to a side door marked: Backstage.
The small stairway led to an area crowded with equipment, cables, and lights. A door at the rear was propped open, revealing the carnival grounds lost in its own shadows. Some of the mothers stood near the doorway talking. Others were still coming down the stairs Ron had just used.
“Congratulations,” a voice said.
“Thank you,” Ron said flatly.
“She’s so lovely,” another voice said.
“Our best queen ever.”
Ron nodded.
A few doors stood ajar, revealing small rooms, most being used as dressing rooms. People continued to stand around. Most stared at Ron with a heavy, grudging wonder, a sullen envy.
To the rear of the hallway was a door marked: Talon. A crown had already been hammered into place. In gold lettering was inscribed the word: Queen.
Ron was about to open the door when a large dog sprang from a darkened corner. It bared its teeth and began to growl, as if it had assumed personal responsibility as watchdog and had come across a dangerous trespasser. Ron drew back in confusion.
“Hey, keep that goddamn dog quiet,” someone yelled,
A young boy moved beside the dog and fastened a leash to its collar. “Sorry,” he said and led the dog away.
Almost before Ron had entered the room, Chandal was in his arms sobbing. She muttered over and over again, “Ron, she’s queen. She won, can you believe it? She’s queen. Queen.”
Ron looked at Kristy over Chandal’s shoulder. She looked terribly exhausted. Her eyes were swollen and her complexion was now a ghostly white.
“Come on,” Ron said softly. “Let’s go home.”
They slipped out the back door and into the night. Ron stood for a moment uncertain as to which way to walk.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Chandal whispered and Kristy nodded.
Ron glanced around nervously, still feeling a restless sense of anticipation, expectancy, that suddenly seemed out of place on such a calm night. It was like coming out of a movie after having been absorbed in the picture so that the outside world had ceased to exist for a while... And now, here it was. A cool night, waiting.
A breeze had sprung up and little swirls of dust raced along the ground scattering bits of paper and debris and a few programs that had been discarded. The word “queen” peered out at Ron from one of the programs. A reminder that on this day, Kristy Talon, age six, had been crowned Queen of the Carnival of Summer.
“Why, Chandal? Why?”
Chandal rolled over lazily in the bed. “Please, Ron. Not anymore tonight. They wanted Kristy. They begged me to enter her in the contest. What harm has been done? None that I can tell.” The sound of her words died away gently like the most finalizing of final statements ending all discussion.
Ron could only shake his head. Moments later Chandal was asleep. For Ron, it took longer.
CHAPTER FORTY
WHEN RON AWOKE, THE SUN WAS JUST BEGINNING TO SLANT into the room. He shifted his weight cautiously so that he would not disturb Chandal, and picked up his wristwatch from the side table. It was just after eight.
He left the bed. It was going to be another hot day. The room was already beginning to warm. He turned to stare at Chandal. For the first time in days she was not the first to rise.
He moved quietly to the chair and got into his trousers and shirt. He was just putting on his shoes when Chandal stirred. He looked at her; she turned over, but did not wake.
He crossed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. After drying off, he looked into Kristy’s room. This morning she was in bed, lying asleep with her arms around her puppet.
A queen, he thought, and shuddered.
The day was bright, not a cloud in the sky. Ron had moved back into his own bedroom and was now staring from the window. There was a gentle but rapid transformation as the sun rose. His body became motionless, as if held immobile by an unseen force. He was rooted to the spot, yet without any sensation of paralysis.
Minutes passed, and with the chiming of the hall clock, objects began to fade from his vision. There was nothing between him and the sun, not even a void, not even emptiness. Finally the balcony itself faded and what he was viewing was a giant screen on whose white surface images flashed. He saw Cynthia Harris go over the edge. Again; then, saw her face peering at him as a ghost of what she had once been. Her face melted quickly into Tyler Adam’s face; the transformation was a gentle one, both having the same ghostly pallor. Tyler Adam appeared to have tears in his eyes.
“The Seeing Eyes,” someone whispered.
Kristy appeared wearing her crown. For some strange reason, Ron found himself smiling. Perhaps because the crown she wore sat crooked atop her head and covered one eye. Her eyes grew larger as his smile diminished. Nancy’s face loomed out, grew larger and larger in his mind’s eye, but he himself seemed to be shrinking. Smaller. Smaller.
And that was the point, wasn’t it? What he feared most. That he might disappear from his own consciousness, just as the others seemed to be disappearing and that he would be left drifting in his own insanity.
A sudden panic arose in him. He shook his head violently. Reality smacked him across the face.
Below, he watched Matthew Todd close the garden gate and begin to walk quite slowly away from the house. Dressed in a pair of greasy coveralls, he shifted his weight to one side, seeming to limp slightly on his left leg.
Ron backed away from the window and ran from the bedroom and down the stairs. He never took a breath, his legs moving almost as fast as his thoughts, until he’d thrown open the front door.
“Mr. Todd!” he shouted. His voice was harsher than he would have liked, hysterical and shrill.
Matthew Todd smiled pleasantly and kept on walking.
“Mr. Todd!” he yelled.
“Sorry about last night, Mr. Talon,” he said mildly. “The crowning always gets me a little crazy. Congratulations again. A lovely queen. Prettiest ever.” He swung his body into his pickup truck. “But you’re all set now.”
“What?”
“Your car is all set to go. I even fixed your tailpipe. Didn’t charge you for it though. I left the keys and the bill with Mrs. Taylor. You can just leave her a check.”
Ron turned and stared at his car. It was true. The right rear tire had been changed. Someone had even washed the car and had parked it in such a way as to show it off. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his perfectly fitted white trousers and pointed with his head.
“Someone’s washed it,” Ron noted.
“Tyler Adam. I gave him a few dollars.”
“Is he still around?”
“Went back into the hills, I think. The trouble with Tyler,” he said confidentially, “is he still thinks it’s 1929. Ask him, he’ll tell you straightaway—Hoover is president of these United States.” He shut the door to his pickup. “Well, you be careful driving over those hills. And if I don’t get to see you again, well...”
Ron was still looking at his car when Todd started his engine. “Yes, sir,” he said and let loose the emergency brake. “The hardest thing in Tyler’s life,” he said with a chuckle, “is that he doesn’t know prohibition’s been repealed.”
Laughter and engine noise roared, mixed, then faded away down the drive.
By eleven o’clock Ron had taken most of the luggage down to the car. As he put the largest of the suitcases into the luggage space, he glanced up. Chandal stood poised at the window watching him. There was a strange glow to the glass which made it appear as though she were standing in a freshly watered garden, yet her face remained dead white.
Ron felt suddenly impaled by her gaze. Whatever she was thinking, whatever she was feeling, he had never seen such a look on a human face as on Chandal’s. And as she watched, she moved her lips, quickly and jerkily, waited a moment, then disappeared from view.
