Chapter 16

After four weeks his mother stopped asking him about Anya. Even his father had held back his tongue and given him space. When six weeks had past, Travis began to doubt at odd moments that he had ever met the woman.

Winter was in full force outside the window of the shop. Snow was piled up on the sides of the streets and had acquired the rings of soot and dirt from the passing vehicles. The shop was empty at that late hour as Travis turned back to the new piece of furniture he was attempting to complete. This time he was using his new sight to shape and sculpt the wood.

"Nice piece," Jesus remarked as he came up behind Travis.

"Thanks. I build these days to keep my mind busy. I don't feel the pain as much when I'm occupied with something else."

Travis continued to chisel the wood with a rhythmic tap-tap of his hammer. "Have you heard anything about Anya?" he casually asked.

"I'm strictly of this world. I'm not privy to what happens over there in her realm," Jesus explained.

"Then why are you here?" Travis asked devoid of any enthusiasm.

"I thought you might need a friend."

"Friends are good," Travis agreed, "but I suppose what I need is time, a lot of time. What I want, ah, what is the use of even thinking about it."

"Didn't one of the English writers say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," Jesus pointed out.

"That's a nice one to save for a year or two down the road. Right now, I'm still walking the 'how did I lose her' path. Sorry, I'm not much company in the midst of my personal pity party."

Travis put aside his tools, "I met Death."

"Did I not tell you she is simply a delight? What did you talk about?"

"Love and fear, light and death," Travis enumerated on his fingers. "She taught me how to choose what was important to me, what made me feel whole. The Prince offered me a lot of things that could have made me rich or powerful, and none of them appealed to me. I only wanted what made me feel whole. You know what I mean?"

"There are other fish in the sea," Jesus suggested.

"I'm well aware and several have already made known their presence to me. Let me mourn what might have been first and then we shall see about casting a net to see what the ocean has to offer," Travis finished with flourish of his arm.

"Oo, the artist thinks he the master of bad metaphor," Jesus pinched his nose in judgment.

"Methinks that perhaps the power that attracts power could produce an entity with a better schtick," Travis retorted with a smile.

"You think this is schtick," the other man began, "but the grin on your face confirms that it works."

"Aye" Travis agreed as he reached for the broom and began to sweep up all of his mess on the floor. He handed the dustpan to his companion who declined with a shake of his head. With a shrug, Travis swept the mess into the pan and dumped the contents in the garbage can.

"Next time, you could show up with a bottle of wine," Travis commented.

There was no reply. "Jesus?" Travis called out as he turned around and was shocked by the sight. The twinkling of motes danced in front of his eyes with frenetic abandon.

"Have I been summoned?" Travis asked with rising hope in his heart. The motes dipped once and sped to the door. He grabbed his coat from the rack and followed them out into the frigid wind. Instead of leading him to his truck, the motes surged down the street towards the end of the industrial buildings where a small stand of woods marked the boundary of the industrial park. Travis ran after them feeling the cold air burn his lungs as he pumped his legs.

He hopped the fence and ran into the trees, pulling his black stone from his pocket. Treating it like a talisman, he never went anywhere without his stone. The motes made a sharp right and Travis turned after them feeling the transition from his world through every cell in his body.

He stopped short and stared up at the massive stone structure that rose above his head. He craned his head backwards and just made out the towers with their banners far above.

"Come on," a young girl's voice urged, "stop dilly-dallying. Mother is waiting for you."

He stared into the face of a pretty little girl dressed in a white skirt and jacket. Travis blinked and watched colors thread their way through the very fabric of the clothes.

"What a beautiful set of clothes you're wearing," Travis complimented her.

"Why thank you, sir. Mother has called a special audience and everyone wants to be dressed special. Now hurry up."

She grasped Travis's hand and dragged him up the broad stairs through the arched entrance and down a terribly long hallway. Travis began to wonder if they would ever arrive when his escort, still tugging on his arm to walk faster, announced that they were almost there.

They came abreast of a large set of wooden doors framed by another arch. The girl put her shoulder to the door and it eased open with eerie silence. As Travis followed her into the great hall, he was struck dumb by the presence of life and beauty in the room. The walls were paneled in great sheets of rich wood and festooned with colorful, looping draperies that seemed alive with racing colors. At the back of the hall rose a great stone throne, above all the people who gathered at dais upon which it rested. Still staring with his jaw open, he was yanked towards the throng of gathered folk.

The crowd split in two and opened up a passage for Travis to continue towards the throne. People of all ages and shades of skin were dressed in exquisite finery all bowed in welcome as he passed them. At the foot of the throne one figure detached itself and came to stand before him.

"Welcome human Travis. Mother has decided to hear your plea. It is good to see you again."

"Thank you, Prince. I am happy to see your face again as well," Travis replied with a bit of uncertainty about the circumstances.

The Prince directed Travis to the first step of the dais upon which the throne rested. Travis looked closely for the first time and counted all seven sisters standing to one side. Standing forward in their group was Anya, but her face was strangely blank.

"Approach closer," the voice of a mature woman called from the throne.

Travis turned his attention back to the center of the dais and took the last steps to the foot of the throne. He looked up at the matronly woman with a crown of grey hair and a long sloping nose. Rather than being thin and sharp as he expected of a monarch, she was full and shapely with a generous bosom. Her smile was contagious.

"Your Anya has made a full recovery. On behalf of all of us gathered here, I thank you for all that you did for her and her sister. The balance has been restored," Mother announced.

The crowd clapped politely.

"You have asked for her hand. Zithme'anya warned you thoroughly that falling in love with her was a foolish course. She tried to dissuade you more than once, as she had been instructed."

Travis gasped for air with that revelation.

"Even more, you sought not to seduce her but to woo her, to capture her heart. For a human to attempt such a thing in our realm is... chutzpah."