The J'Argon

She found the Twins’ story in the Saturday Late Breaking News. It was presented as a scoop. The Sanctuary associated the story of the Twins with the abduction of Caitlin’s sister using the alchemy of international terrorism and human rights violations. The story ended with coverage of the confrontation at Heathrow. Caitlin’s Deputy Bureau Chief, a breathtaking young oriental man, had obviously studied the Asian Martial Arts movie stars of the 20th Century. He looked straight into the cam and pronounced the judgment of the Sanctuary on the J’Argon, promising to include the Covenant of the Word with the Confederacy in the Sanctuary’s upcoming formal protest to the United Nations. He ended the statement with an old Hollywood Kung Fu salute, right fist enclosed in the left. The segment signed off with the Sanctuary Shield on a red background, flames flickering around the edges.

The J’Argon sighed. "Passion like that makes its own truth," she thought.

The gray day was making itself known in the room at last, and a faint scent of vegetarian sausages found its way in from the kitchen. The J’Argon realized she was hungry. She decided to check the Confederacy Open Channel once more before meeting Caitlin and the rest of the household in the dining room. There had to be some word somewhere. But she found no reference to any of it.

The J’Argon’s assistant arrived in the late morning. She got to work arranging for a car to take Caitlin and Terry back to Bath and the bullet car to London. Terry would be most useful from the Vatican, and Caitlin had her own kettle of fish to deal with in San Francisco.

A message from the Heathrow Space Patrol was received early in the afternoon, asking the J’Argon’s pleasure regarding Maria. She decided to rescind her demand that Maria’s press credentials be revoked, and arranged instead for her to take the next available subspace transport to the Sanctuary.

Once the guests had left, the J’Argon was at last free to ease her increasing agitation, and take some direct action for Michael’s protection. In a small purple velvet bag she kept a tiny glass box containing a small clipping of the Arch Deacon’s hair and a gold ring he had given her in celebration of the Great Rite at their handfasting. These artifacts were highly charged both with Michael’s identity, and the power of their intertwined lives. She had never used them as she was compelled to use them now. She took the bag, wrapped herself in a warm wool cloak against the frosty mist, and went out along the footpath to the blind spring.

The blind spring was actually in the middle of the pasture, while the footpath skirted the hedgerow beside the road. It was a shallow dish, some 15 feet in diameter, with sides that sloped down to a depth of two feet, with rocks scattered along the bottom and around the sides. The only water actually in the depression was condensation and rain water, but because of the rainy misty weather, the bottom of the formation was muddy. In the center were two large flat rocks, suitable for standing or sitting upon, or building a fire, depending on the intention of the visitor. The J’Argon stood for a moment on the eastern lip of the blind spring, looking around, attuning herself to the elements at play in the stormy mid-afternoon. The wind gusted up around the hillside, blowing her hood back and pulling a long strand of her hair out behind her. Clouds of mist surrounded her, caught by the wind in their descent from the heights of the Mendip Hills above.

She stepped down into the blind spring from the west, and stood in the center, facing southwest. She opened the purple velvet bag, and took out the glass box. She slipped the gold ring onto her third finger, left hand - the place of marriage -- and took the fair strands of Michael’s hair between the thumb and first finger of her right hand. She began to chant, stretching her arms out to embrace the elements of earth, air, fire, and water.

"Power of Wind, Power of Sea, Power of Love Binds My Lover and Me.

Power of Earth, Power of Fire, Power of Love Binds Our Hearts Desire.

Power of Darkness, Power of Light,

Power of Love through the Dangerous Night,

Power of Ancient Ones, Power of Kin, Power of Justice, Power Within,

Power of Angels, Cosmic Power, hear me I charge you from this hour

protect your servant Michael!"

A bolt of lightning lanced out of the mist. The thunderclap in the aftermath of the lightning bolt shook the earth. Another gust of wind blew her hair and the cloak out and around her body, and the wind snatched the lock of hair from her fingers. His name screamed away from her down the pasture along with a burst of rain.

In the sudden calm that followed, the J’Argon nearly lost her balance. At last she felt stillness within that matched the stillness without. She stood for an indeterminate time in the midst of a dense gray fog, her hands at her sides, the cloak a heavy wet encumbrance. Then the fog lifted to reveal a late afternoon full of low dark gray clouds. She looked down at her hands. The ring glowed softly golden. She still held two faint strands of Michael’s blond hair between her fingertips. She retrieved the glass box from the rock beside her, and placed the wisps of hair inside. Then she took a deep breath, and came up out of the blind spring on the western side.

Michael’s gold ring would remain on her marriage finger. If it did not, she would lose him.