The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [149]
These three we travel with—Jack, Presto, the Indian woman Mary Williams—and the absent Jacob Stern have been given a responsibility by the common dream that remains out of their reach, one that for whatever reason Innes and I do not explicitly share. But we each have our roles to play and if mine is to act the detective to uncover their true purpose, that is more than enough. I suspect, however, that a more valuable contribution would be to find a way to return Jack to some measure of himself before the final confrontation. Without Jack at the top of his game, whatever lies ahead for these people can end only in disaster. Our time is short; there is only one card left I can think of to play.
Tonight.
The black tower came into view as their wagons skirted the last cluster of rocks and rounded the turn into the settlement; they could see figures milling like ants around the scaffolding that enveloped its central tower as it rose over two hundred feet above the desert floor. Construction was still a fair way from completion—even from this distance sections of its facade appeared to be little more than a shell.
But for all that, to come upon such a stark, incongruous spectacle thrusting skyward from the heart of a wasteland took their breath away.
"That's what you saw in your dream?" asked Eileen, moving up beside Jacob on the driver's seat.
"Close enough," said Jacob, mouth going dry, heart thumping against his ribs. The sight seemed to paralyze him.
"You too?" asked Eileen.
Peering out from the shelter of the canvas flap, Kanazuchi nodded.
"Okay," said Eileen slowly, trying to center her mind on practical concerns. "What do we do now?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said Jacob.
"But—But you said you'd know what to do when you saw it."
"Give me a moment, dear, please. It's unnerving enough to come across something like this to begin with. Without even considering the implications of... of what..." He faltered badly. She noticed the reins trembling in his hands.
Good God, I've made a terrible mistake, Eileen realized. I've been assuming the poor man had some sort of plan, that if what they had dreamt about turned out to be true, he would be able to lead us through whatever followed, but he's frightened and fragile and may have no better idea about how to proceed from here than I do.
"Of course, Jacob," she said. "Bit of a stunner, after all. We'll just have to see, won't we?"
He ran a hand nervously over his chin and couldn't seem to tear his eyes off the tower. She handed him a canteen and held the reins for him as he took a long drink.
"I'm so thirsty," he said quietly and drank again.
A groaning of wood from the wagon's interior. Eileen peered back through the flap; Kanazuchi had ripped up one of the planks in the floor bed with his bare hands. Reaching down, he laid his long sword inside the cavity beneath the boards.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He didn't answer. She noticed he had changed back into his black pajamalike coolie clothes; Jacob's clothes lay folded in a neat bundle. Kanazuchi replaced the plank, concealed his second smaller sword, no more than a long knife, in the waist of his belt, then moved next to them at the opening.
"Jacob," he said quietly.
Jacob turned abruptly to face him, sweat running off his brow, fear lighting his eyes, his breathing rapid and shallow. Their looks engaged. Kanazuchi reached out a hand, and with the tips of his fingers touched Jacob gently on the forehead. Jacob's eyes closed and Kanazuchi's features settled into an expression Eileen had never seen him wear in the short time she had known him; no less feral and alert than before but tempered by a softening of character that suggested deep kindness and a wellspring of compassion.
How completely unexpected, thought Eileen. But then the man