By dusk’s early dark, my cajones are no bigger than usual. I decide I’ll have to do without. There is a certain cowardly lion I remind me of. If I were the King of the Forest, I’d likely go hide in it someplace. But I got to do this, ‘cause it’s Doug who needs me.
Kaymart and Bags give me some drabs to wear; if I go over into Potrero in my merlin gear, I’ll have knighties all over me in no appreciable time. (There’s only one knightie I want all over me, thanks.)
I have brought along a tiny flask of the attar of Doug to help bolster my aforementioned cajones, to keep me focused and to ward off the bad smells I recall from my first trek into Potrero-Taraval.
Kaymart helps me tuck my yard or so of wild black hair under a burnoose and I take off for the Border, all green and brown, looking like a cross between Robinhood and Lawrence of Arabia.
This time before I dive into Potrero, I report to the Green border knighties that I’m on a mission from God. They respectfully let me pass. It’s a semi-foggy, moonless night — darker, even, than the first night I was here, if that's possible.
About a quarter mile from where I drop into the trench I spy Hoot’s chink between the trolley and the dumpster. I imagine it’s seen a lot of action lately. In notime, I’m in Potrero again, and Potrero is no less empty and godforsaken than it was the first time I was here.
A wind frisks up and papers and other light crap blow around on the asphalt and dance in little tornadoes. It makes a crying sound and I think of the Ohlone dolores lying in the graveyard my ancestors made for them. As I think of them, I also hear them, whispering encouragement at me — at least, I think that’s what they’re whispering. They are most assuredly urging me on.
Being a merlin (if not much of one) I know a few incantations for protection. I choose one called Chouyan, which means smoke. It’s a very ancient incantation, so I have some confidence in it. In fact, it’s about the only incantation I can do well — which means it actually gets results. I mumble it now and squeeze out onto the street. It really is empty — so empty the buildings whistle to keep from being lonely.
I recall The Fish’s map. A few blocks west of here there is a long, wooded avenue. It runs just about straight to Lord E’s Palace. I suspect it will be well-guarded, so I go west only one block and begin to work my way south through the haunted streets.
As I get further from the Border, I don’t see a whole lot of difference in the scenery. I smell a difference, though. Bu hao! There is a stink like a red tide. It could be the garbage, which seems to be everywhere, or it could be something else I don’t want to know about. Either way, I don’t go look, but just keep heading south, sniffing attar of Doug and dipping in and out of shadows, my feet making soft scratches in the grit.
The attar does better than ward off the smells — it makes me feel more and more like I can do this thing.
I count blocks as I go, and when I think I’ve gone far enough, I cut west again. Then, there are people. I don’t see them. But I hear them. First, I think it’s the wind, blowing through the empty alleys and crumbling eaves. Then I realize it’s voices I hear as I pass by the tired buildings.
Whispers and moans in front of this one; I hurry. Laughter here; I relax a little. Rage rolls out of an upstairs window; I hurry again.
I hear a child crying, a mother trying to shush it, a man swearing and demanding quiet. As I pass by, the woman begins to sing. I almost stop to listen, but I remember Doug and move on.
My math’s a little off, ‘cause I end up a block off from where I think I should be and see that I’m still short of Lord E’s compound. Not only that, but now I see fires deep in the alleys and winking from windows and between the cracks of bad-fitting doorjambs. Out on the wooded avenue, people hang on corners and stuff, warming their hands around barrels full of fire.
I look toward the Palace and see a bunch of folks at the gates just kind of milling around. I think of joining in when I realize they’re not getting inside. They’re just milling and yelling and dodging stuff coming at them over the fence. Inside the fence are torches and I think I see who's doing the throwing — the first knighties I’ve seen since I came here.
I don’t understand this. I duck back into the side street and jog, beneath whispers and shouts, to the next southbound road. The smell is worse here, where the people are, and I think Deadend must be right about no running water. It makes me homesick for the perfumes of the Gee Gah. Hell, even the fishmart smells better than this.
Three more blocks and I cut west again, sneaking up on the back of Lord E’s place. There’re trees and bushes inside the tall chain fence and I think this might be easier than I thought.
I find a place in the fence where the razorbarb across the top has fallen away and start climbing. I climb the fence okay. Up, over, and right into the branches of a giant oak. The tree has a big spread and I see I can make the roof on the other side of it. I’m a tree-climber from way back and I move like the wind through the branches.
I’m feeling pretty good about myself, merlin-wise, as I come down onto the roof of the nearest building. Looking down, I can see guards patrolling the grounds. My incantations hold; they don’t see me.
There is a stairwell leading down from this roof, but I ignore it. This isn't the main building of the Palace compound — that’s about four buildings further south, according to smeagols, and I can see the top floor from here, lit up like a party-boat with flickering lights. I head in that direction, skulking low to the roof.
The first two buildings are easy — real close together. I make the jump with no trouble. But the last one is different — a good two-and-a-half yards if it’s an inch. And the leap won’t take me to the roof, just to a ledge...a very narrow ledge. A ledge with windows.
I think about going to ground, but I’m afraid someone might see me. So, I back way off and take a running jump. I make the jump okay, except one of the windows opens up right in my face.
The fall is long, but doesn’t feel like it. Feels real short. Fortunately, there is some tall dead grass between the two buildings, so I don’t get hurt. Talk about wonky, though — my whole body is wonky. It takes me a moment to get up, a bit longer for my eyes to straighten out.
When they do, I do not see what I expect to see — the walls of two buildings and a badly lit sidewalk twenty feet away. I see the walls of two buildings and four badly lit people about eight feet away and closing. They are just big, dark outlines of people — no faces. This is creepy, so I turn to run.
There are three more big, badly lit people behind me. They have faces, which, I discover is just as creepy.
I do what anybody would do, I surrender.