October 24, 2007
(Cross-posted from Mutual Endeavors.)
"Faust," he said. The woman looked at him in a way that no other woman ever did. Most would raise a brow or blink uncertainly. She was without emotion, and so she only looked at him. He elaborated anyway. "The name I go by."
For a time they had walked in silence, which suited her better than any noise. They walked over a sea of sticky skeletons that did not crunch underfoot. Some shattered. Some whole. Some still shedding the tissues that once identified them as living things. There was no room for life in her domain, and yet one thing slumbered on a bed of bones nearby. When she stopped walking, she looked at him. "Any name is as good as any other," she repeated.
The man also looked at the sleeping boy. Together they admired him. One with a thoughtful smile, and the other without any expression at all. "His name means savior," said the man. "Does it not?" When posing the question he looked back at the woman.
They were two handsome carvings made to reflect a humanity that neither of them shared. The woman made of ice. The man made of stone. No person looking at them once would have thought them worth looking at a second time. This was the way they both preferred things to be. Not the only thing they had in common.
"Yes," she said, bound to answer any question asked of her. She blinked lethargically and then turned her head to look back at the man. "That is the meaning of his name."
"Is that name as good as any other?"
The way her dark eyes narrowed my have been the sign of a frown. "It is his name," she said. "Which makes it better than any other."
The plain man smiled and turned his eyes away. Perhaps the answer she had given had been the one he had been expecting, the one he had wanted of her. Tucking his arms neatly behind his back, he looked off into the distance and began to tell a story.
"Once there was a man named Abram," he began. "Who was very devoted to his faith and to his family. He had amongst him a wife named Sarai, who bore him no children. The wife had a maidservant, however, by name of Hagar. The wife said to her husband, 'God has kept me from having children. Go, bed my maidservant; perhaps we can build a family through her.'
"In those times, it was common custom that a wife could give her slave to her husband. Any child thus conceived of such union would be counted as the child of the wife. Abram agreed with his wife, and so went to bed with her maidservant. Hagar conceived. When she knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress.
"Then Sarai said to Abram, 'You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my servant in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me. May God judge between you and me.'
"'Your servant is in your hands,' Abram said. 'Do with her whatever you think is best.' Sarai thought it was best to mistreat her maidservant, and so Hagar fled from her.
"A spirit of God found Hagar near a spring in the desert, beside the road to Shur. This angel said to her, 'Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?'
"'I'm running away from my mistress Sarai,' she answered.
"Then the angel of the Lord told her, 'Go back to your mistress and submit to her.' The spirit added, 'I will so increase your descendants that they will be too numerous to count.' Then went on to say: 'You are now with child and you will have a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery. He will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers.'
"Hagar went back to Abram, then, and she bore him a son. Abram gave this son the name of Ishmael, just as the spirit had told her would be his name. A name that means 'God will listen.'"
The plain man paused for a time simply to smile. The woman beside him said nothing at all. It was not her way to interrupt, not her place to add to this story. But the weight of such words hung thick in the air. Together they waited for the impact to settle. Taking a breath, Faust continued the tale.
"Thirteen years later, the Lord appeared to Abram saying, 'I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.' Stunned by such an unexpected and glorious confrontation, Abram fell face down, but the Lord continued to speak to him.
"'As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you very fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you. I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.'"
Faust paused again to smile, and this time it was something that seemed amused. He tipped down his chin as if to mask the expression, but it stuck on his lips when he lifted his chin back up to continue.
"God also said to Abraham, whose name he had changed, 'As for Sarai your wife, you are no longer to call her Sarai; her name will be Sarah. I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she will be the mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her.'
"Abraham fell face down again. He laughed and said to himself, "Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety? If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!'
"'Yes,' God said, 'but your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him; I will make him fruitful and will greatly increase his numbers. He will be the father of twelve rulers, and I will make him into a great nation. But my covenant I will establish with Isaac, whom Sarah will bear to you by this time next year.'
"When he had finished speaking with Abraham, God went up from him. He was no longer the man named Abram, and his wife no longer the woman named Sarai. For God deemed them worthy of names more fitting unto them."
Silence drifted between them again. Hours may have passed before words. The woman let the still of night settle around them and absorbed the tale Faust told to her. One she knew as well as any other fae creature. For it was a tale from a faith that nearly destroyed them, her kind.
"Father of nations," she said, breaking the silence with her cool monotone.
The plain man chuckled lightly. "Yes. I suppose his name holds no different meaning, except that it is longer and sounds more regal."
"One who is contentious and argumentative," said Faye. "One who became a princess." She turned to face him, but looked behind them both. Looked back at the boy who slept on a bed of bones. "And you, I suppose, are having good luck." It was neither a statement nor a question, precisely, but perhaps both.
Faust turned to face the direction in which she was looking. Together they again admired the sleeping boy, in their different ways. "Gods give names to men so that they will build kingdoms for them."
"And take them away so that they will build none," she countered.
Once again the plain man smiled. He allowed a pause for their words to hover. Touch?. "It is my small fortune that you do what you do, Linewalker," he said then. "Savior though he may be, what kingdom does he build for you?"
The question was rhetorical, and she knew it. As such she was not bound to answer him. So instead she walked away. He walked with her, however, keeping languid pace. "I cannot give you what you have come to take, Jackal King," she said.
"No," he agreed. "You named him too well for that."
"His secrets are his own to keep."
Together they stopped beside the boy. She knelt at his side and touched her fingers to his hair. The plain man remained standing but loomed near. "See to it that he keeps them then," Faust said.
Faye turned her head, almost looking back at him. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she nearly frowned. "Threats do not become you."
The Jackal King chuckled ominously and turned to step away. "I did not come here to make idle threats, Linewalker. I came with the intention to make a covenant." Just at the edge of her grove, he stopped and turned back. His arms still neatly tucked behind his back. "I think you know what it is."
She dipped a slow and solemn nod, then looked back down upon the sleeping boy. The fae mother twisted her fingers through his hair. "Any name is as good as any other," she murmured. "I will see to it that he only makes a kingdom of the one."
"Else he make none," said the man. Faust then stepped over the line and took his leave of her grove. She did not need to look to know that he was gone.
(Cross-posted from Mutual Endeavors.)
"Faust," he said. The woman looked at him in a way that no other woman ever did. Most would raise a brow or blink uncertainly. She was without emotion, and so she only looked at him. He elaborated anyway. "The name I go by."
For a time they had walked in silence, which suited her better than any noise. They walked over a sea of sticky skeletons that did not crunch underfoot. Some shattered. Some whole. Some still shedding the tissues that once identified them as living things. There was no room for life in her domain, and yet one thing slumbered on a bed of bones nearby. When she stopped walking, she looked at him. "Any name is as good as any other," she repeated.
The man also looked at the sleeping boy. Together they admired him. One with a thoughtful smile, and the other without any expression at all. "His name means savior," said the man. "Does it not?" When posing the question he looked back at the woman.
They were two handsome carvings made to reflect a humanity that neither of them shared. The woman made of ice. The man made of stone. No person looking at them once would have thought them worth looking at a second time. This was the way they both preferred things to be. Not the only thing they had in common.
"Yes," she said, bound to answer any question asked of her. She blinked lethargically and then turned her head to look back at the man. "That is the meaning of his name."
"Is that name as good as any other?"
The way her dark eyes narrowed my have been the sign of a frown. "It is his name," she said. "Which makes it better than any other."
The plain man smiled and turned his eyes away. Perhaps the answer she had given had been the one he had been expecting, the one he had wanted of her. Tucking his arms neatly behind his back, he looked off into the distance and began to tell a story.
"Once there was a man named Abram," he began. "Who was very devoted to his faith and to his family. He had amongst him a wife named Sarai, who bore him no children. The wife had a maidservant, however, by name of Hagar. The wife said to her husband, 'God has kept me from having children. Go, bed my maidservant; perhaps we can build a family through her.'
"In those times, it was common custom that a wife could give her slave to her husband. Any child thus conceived of such union would be counted as the child of the wife. Abram agreed with his wife, and so went to bed with her maidservant. Hagar conceived. When she knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress.
"Then Sarai said to Abram, 'You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my servant in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me. May God judge between you and me.'
"'Your servant is in your hands,' Abram said. 'Do with her whatever you think is best.' Sarai thought it was best to mistreat her maidservant, and so Hagar fled from her.
"A spirit of God found Hagar near a spring in the desert, beside the road to Shur. This angel said to her, 'Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?'
"'I'm running away from my mistress Sarai,' she answered.
"Then the angel of the Lord told her, 'Go back to your mistress and submit to her.' The spirit added, 'I will so increase your descendants that they will be too numerous to count.' Then went on to say: 'You are now with child and you will have a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery. He will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers.'
"Hagar went back to Abram, then, and she bore him a son. Abram gave this son the name of Ishmael, just as the spirit had told her would be his name. A name that means 'God will listen.'"
The plain man paused for a time simply to smile. The woman beside him said nothing at all. It was not her way to interrupt, not her place to add to this story. But the weight of such words hung thick in the air. Together they waited for the impact to settle. Taking a breath, Faust continued the tale.
"Thirteen years later, the Lord appeared to Abram saying, 'I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.' Stunned by such an unexpected and glorious confrontation, Abram fell face down, but the Lord continued to speak to him.
"'As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you very fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you. I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.'"
Faust paused again to smile, and this time it was something that seemed amused. He tipped down his chin as if to mask the expression, but it stuck on his lips when he lifted his chin back up to continue.
"God also said to Abraham, whose name he had changed, 'As for Sarai your wife, you are no longer to call her Sarai; her name will be Sarah. I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she will be the mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her.'
"Abraham fell face down again. He laughed and said to himself, "Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety? If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!'
"'Yes,' God said, 'but your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him; I will make him fruitful and will greatly increase his numbers. He will be the father of twelve rulers, and I will make him into a great nation. But my covenant I will establish with Isaac, whom Sarah will bear to you by this time next year.'
"When he had finished speaking with Abraham, God went up from him. He was no longer the man named Abram, and his wife no longer the woman named Sarai. For God deemed them worthy of names more fitting unto them."
Silence drifted between them again. Hours may have passed before words. The woman let the still of night settle around them and absorbed the tale Faust told to her. One she knew as well as any other fae creature. For it was a tale from a faith that nearly destroyed them, her kind.
"Father of nations," she said, breaking the silence with her cool monotone.
The plain man chuckled lightly. "Yes. I suppose his name holds no different meaning, except that it is longer and sounds more regal."
"One who is contentious and argumentative," said Faye. "One who became a princess." She turned to face him, but looked behind them both. Looked back at the boy who slept on a bed of bones. "And you, I suppose, are having good luck." It was neither a statement nor a question, precisely, but perhaps both.
Faust turned to face the direction in which she was looking. Together they again admired the sleeping boy, in their different ways. "Gods give names to men so that they will build kingdoms for them."
"And take them away so that they will build none," she countered.
Once again the plain man smiled. He allowed a pause for their words to hover. Touch?. "It is my small fortune that you do what you do, Linewalker," he said then. "Savior though he may be, what kingdom does he build for you?"
The question was rhetorical, and she knew it. As such she was not bound to answer him. So instead she walked away. He walked with her, however, keeping languid pace. "I cannot give you what you have come to take, Jackal King," she said.
"No," he agreed. "You named him too well for that."
"His secrets are his own to keep."
Together they stopped beside the boy. She knelt at his side and touched her fingers to his hair. The plain man remained standing but loomed near. "See to it that he keeps them then," Faust said.
Faye turned her head, almost looking back at him. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she nearly frowned. "Threats do not become you."
The Jackal King chuckled ominously and turned to step away. "I did not come here to make idle threats, Linewalker. I came with the intention to make a covenant." Just at the edge of her grove, he stopped and turned back. His arms still neatly tucked behind his back. "I think you know what it is."
She dipped a slow and solemn nod, then looked back down upon the sleeping boy. The fae mother twisted her fingers through his hair. "Any name is as good as any other," she murmured. "I will see to it that he only makes a kingdom of the one."
"Else he make none," said the man. Faust then stepped over the line and took his leave of her grove. She did not need to look to know that he was gone.