A Wrinkle in Time Quintet (28 page)
Read A Wrinkle in Time Quintet Online
Authors: Madeleine L’Engle
Dr. Colubra asked Meg, “Do you think the first-graders in the village school are hostile inhabitants, then?”
“Of course! Charles isn’t like them, and so they’re hostile towards him. People are always hostile to anybody who’s different.”
“Until they get
used to him,” the doctor said.
used to him,” the doctor said.
“They’re not getting used to Charles.”
Charles Wallace, fondling the big dog, said, “Don’t forget to give Fort a saucer—he likes cocoa.”
“You have the strangest pets,” Dr. Louise said, but she poured a small dish of cocoa for Fortinbras. “I’ll let it cool a bit before I put it on the floor. Meg, we need mugs.”
“Okay.” Meg hurried off to the kitchen, collected
a stack of mugs, and returned to the laboratory.
a stack of mugs, and returned to the laboratory.
Dr. Louise lined them up and poured the cocoa. “Speaking of pets, how’s my namesake?”
Meg nearly spilled the cocoa she was handing to her mother. She looked closely at Dr. Louise, but though the question had seemed pointed, the little bird face showed nothing more than amused interest; as Charles Wallace said, Dr. Louise was very good at talking
on one level and thinking on another.
on one level and thinking on another.
Charles Wallace answered the question. “Louise the Larger is a magnificent snake. I wonder if she’d like some cocoa? Snakes like milk, don’t they?”
Mrs. Murry said firmly, “You are not going back out tonight to find if the snake, magnificent though she be, likes cocoa. Save your experimental zeal for daylight. Louise is undoubtedly sound asleep.”
Dr. Louise
carefully poured out the last of the cocoa into her own mug. “Some snakes are very sociable at
night. Many years ago when I was working in a hospital in the Philippines I had a boa constrictor for a pet; we had a problem with rats in the ward, and my boa constrictor did a thorough job of keeping the rodent population down. He also liked cream-of-mushroom soup, though I never tried him on cocoa,
and he was a delightful companion in the evenings, affectionate and cuddly.”
carefully poured out the last of the cocoa into her own mug. “Some snakes are very sociable at
night. Many years ago when I was working in a hospital in the Philippines I had a boa constrictor for a pet; we had a problem with rats in the ward, and my boa constrictor did a thorough job of keeping the rodent population down. He also liked cream-of-mushroom soup, though I never tried him on cocoa,
and he was a delightful companion in the evenings, affectionate and cuddly.”
Meg did not think that she would enjoy cuddling with a snake, even Louise.
“He also had impeccable judgment about human nature. He was naturally a friendly creature, and if he showed me that he disliked or distrusted somebody, I took him seriously. We had a man brought to the men’s ward who seemed to have nothing more
seriously wrong with him than a slightly inflamed appendix, but my boa constrictor took a dislike to him the moment he was admitted. That night he tried to kill the man in the next bed—fortunately we got to him in time. But the snake knew. After that, I listened to his warnings immediately.”
seriously wrong with him than a slightly inflamed appendix, but my boa constrictor took a dislike to him the moment he was admitted. That night he tried to kill the man in the next bed—fortunately we got to him in time. But the snake knew. After that, I listened to his warnings immediately.”
“Fortinbras has the same instinct about people,” Mrs. Murry said. “Too bad we human beings have lost it.”
Meg wanted to say, “So does Louise the Larger,” but her mother or the doctor would have asked her on what experience she based such a remark; it would have sounded more likely coming from the twins.
Charles Wallace regarded Dr. Colubra, who had returned to the red leather chair and was sipping cocoa, her legs tucked under her like a child; as a matter of fact, she was considerably smaller than
Meg. Charles said, “We take Louise very seriously, Dr. Louise. Very seriously.”
Meg. Charles said, “We take Louise very seriously, Dr. Louise. Very seriously.”
Dr. Louise nodded. Her voice was light and high. “That was what I had in mind.”
Calvin finished his cocoa. “Thank you very much. I’d better get on home now. See you in school tomorrow, Meg. Thanks again, Mrs. Murry and Dr. Colubra. Good night.”
When he had gone, Mrs. Murry said, “All right, Charles. The twins have
been in bed for an hour. Meg, it’s time for you, too. Charles, I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.”
been in bed for an hour. Meg, it’s time for you, too. Charles, I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.”
As they left the lab, Meg could see her mother turning back to the micro-electron microscope.
Meg undressed slowly, standing by her attic window, wondering if Dr. Louise’s talk about snakes had been entirely casual chat over a cup of cocoa; perhaps it was only the strange events of the evening
which caused her to look for meanings under the surface of what might well be unimportant conversation. She turned out the lights and looked out the window. She could see across the vegetable garden to the orchard, but the trees still
held enough leaves so that she could not see into the north pasture.
which caused her to look for meanings under the surface of what might well be unimportant conversation. She turned out the lights and looked out the window. She could see across the vegetable garden to the orchard, but the trees still
held enough leaves so that she could not see into the north pasture.
Was there really a cherubim waiting at the star-watching rock, curled up into a great feathery
ball, all those eyes closed in sleep?
ball, all those eyes closed in sleep?
Was he real?
What is real?
FOUR
Proginoskes
M
eg woke up before dawn, suddenly and completely, as though something had jerked her out of sleep. She listened: only the usual noises of the sleeping house. She turned on the light and looked at her clock; she had set the alarm for six, as usual. It was now five. She had another whole hour in which she could curl up under the covers, and luxuriate in warmth and comfort, and
doze—
eg woke up before dawn, suddenly and completely, as though something had jerked her out of sleep. She listened: only the usual noises of the sleeping house. She turned on the light and looked at her clock; she had set the alarm for six, as usual. It was now five. She had another whole hour in which she could curl up under the covers, and luxuriate in warmth and comfort, and
doze—
Then she remembered.
She tried to reassure herself that she was remembering a dream, although it was not the way that a dream is remembered. It must have been a dream, obviously it must have been a dream—
The only way to prove that it was nothing but a dream, without waking Charles Wallace and asking him, was to get dressed and go out to the star-watching rock and make sure that there
was no cherubim there.
And—if by some slim chance it had not been a dream, she had promised the cherubim that she would come to him before breakfast.
was no cherubim there.
And—if by some slim chance it had not been a dream, she had promised the cherubim that she would come to him before breakfast.
Had it not been for the horrible moments with Mr. Jenkins screeching across the sky, she would not have wanted it to be a dream. She desperately wanted Blajeny to be real, to take care of everything. But the unreality of Mr. Jenkins, who had always
been disagreeably predictable, was far more difficult for her to accept than the Teacher, or even a cherubim who looked like a drive of dragons.
been disagreeably predictable, was far more difficult for her to accept than the Teacher, or even a cherubim who looked like a drive of dragons.
She dressed hurriedly, putting on her kilt and a clean blouse. She tiptoed downstairs as quietly and carefully as she had the night before, through the kitchen and into the pantry, where she put on her heaviest jacket, and a multicolored knitted tam
o’shanter, one of her mother’s rare successful ventures into domesticity.
o’shanter, one of her mother’s rare successful ventures into domesticity.
This time no wind blew, no doors slammed. She turned on the flashlight to guide her. It was a still, chill pre-dawn. The grass was white with spider-web tracings of dew and light frost. A thin vapor moved delicately across the lawn. The mountains were curtained by ground fog, although in the sky she could see stars. She
ran across the garden, looking warily about her. But there was no Mr. Jenkins, of course there was no Mr. Jenkins. At the stone wall she looked carefully for Louise, but there was no sign of the big snake. She
crossed the orchard, climbed the wall again—still no Louise, it was much too early and much too cold for snakes, anyhow—and ran across the north pasture, past the two glacial rocks, and to
the star-watching rock.
ran across the garden, looking warily about her. But there was no Mr. Jenkins, of course there was no Mr. Jenkins. At the stone wall she looked carefully for Louise, but there was no sign of the big snake. She
crossed the orchard, climbed the wall again—still no Louise, it was much too early and much too cold for snakes, anyhow—and ran across the north pasture, past the two glacial rocks, and to
the star-watching rock.
There was nothing there except the mist whirling gently in the faint breeze.
So it had all been a dream.
Then the mist seemed to solidify, to become moving wings, eyes opening and shutting, tiny flickers of fire, small puffs of misty smoke …
“You’re real,” she said loudly. “You’re not something I dreamed after all.”
Proginoskes delicately stretched one huge wing skywards,
then folded it. “I have been told that human beings seldom dream about cherubim. Thank you for being prompt. It is in the nature of cherubim to dislike tardiness.”
then folded it. “I have been told that human beings seldom dream about cherubim. Thank you for being prompt. It is in the nature of cherubim to dislike tardiness.”
Meg sighed, in resignation, in fear, and, surprisingly, in relief. “Okay, Progo, I guess you’re not a figment of my imagination. What do we do now? I’ve got just about an hour before breakfast.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m much too
excited to be hungry, but if I don’t turn up on time, it won’t go down very well if I explain that I was late because I was talking with a cherubim. My mother doesn’t like tardiness, either.”
excited to be hungry, but if I don’t turn up on time, it won’t go down very well if I explain that I was late because I was talking with a cherubim. My mother doesn’t like tardiness, either.”
Proginoskes said, “Much can be accomplished in an hour. We have to find out what our first ordeal is.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Why would I know?”
“You’re a cherubim.”
“Even a cherubim has limits. When three
ordeals are planned, then nobody knows ahead of time what they are; even the Teacher may not know.”
ordeals are planned, then nobody knows ahead of time what they are; even the Teacher may not know.”
“Then what do we do? How do we find out?”
Proginoskes waved several wings slowly back and forth in thought, which would have felt very pleasant on a hot day, but which, on a cold morning, made Meg turn up the collar of her jacket. The cherubim did not notice; he continued waving and thinking.
Then she could feel his words moving slowly, tentatively, within her mind. “If you’ve been assigned to me, I suppose you must be some kind of a Namer, too, even if a primitive one.”
Then she could feel his words moving slowly, tentatively, within her mind. “If you’ve been assigned to me, I suppose you must be some kind of a Namer, too, even if a primitive one.”
“A what?”
“A Namer. For instance, the last time I was with a Teacher—or at school, as you call it—my assignment was to memorize the names of the stars.”
“Which stars?”
“All of them.”
“You mean
all
the stars, in
all
the galaxies?”
all
the stars, in
all
the galaxies?”
“Yes. If he calls for one of them, someone has to know which one he means. Anyhow, they like it; there
aren’t many who know them all by name, and if your name isn’t known, then it’s a very lonely feeling.”
aren’t many who know them all by name, and if your name isn’t known, then it’s a very lonely feeling.”
“Am I supposed to learn the names of all the stars, too?” It was an appalling thought.
“Good galaxy, no!”
“Then what
am
I supposed to do?”
am
I supposed to do?”
Proginoskes waved several wings,
which, Meg was learning, was more or less his way of expressing “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
which, Meg was learning, was more or less his way of expressing “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Well, then, if I’m a Namer, what does that mean? What does a Namer do?”
The wings drew together, the eyes closed, singly, and in groups, until all were shut. Small puffs of mist-like smoke rose, swirled about him. “When I was memorizing the names of the stars, part of the purpose was to help them
each to be more particularly the particular star each one was supposed to be. That’s basically a Namer’s job. Maybe you’re supposed to make earthlings feel more human.”
each to be more particularly the particular star each one was supposed to be. That’s basically a Namer’s job. Maybe you’re supposed to make earthlings feel more human.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sat down on the rock beside him; she was somehow no longer afraid of his wildness, his size, his spurts of fire.
He asked, “How do I make you feel?”
She hesitated, not wanting to be rude,
forgetting that the cherubim, far more than Charles Wallace, did not need her outward words to know what was being said within. But she answered truthfully, “Confused.”
forgetting that the cherubim, far more than Charles Wallace, did not need her outward words to know what was being said within. But she answered truthfully, “Confused.”
Several puffs of smoke went up. “Well, we don’t know each other very well yet. Who makes you least confused?”
“Calvin.” There was no hesitation here. “When I’m with Calvin, I don’t mind being me.”
“You mean he makes you
more
you, don’t you?”
more
you, don’t you?”
“I guess you could put it that way.”
“Who makes you feel the least you?”
“Mr. Jenkins.”
Proginoskes probed sharply, “Why are you suddenly upset and frightened?”
“He’s the principal of the grade school in the village this year. But he was in my school last year, and I was always getting sent to his office. He never understands anything, and everything I do is automatically
wrong. Charles Wallace would probably be better off if he weren’t my brother. That’s enough to finish him with Mr. Jenkins.”
wrong. Charles Wallace would probably be better off if he weren’t my brother. That’s enough to finish him with Mr. Jenkins.”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you say
Mr. Jenkins
, I feel such a cold wave of terror wash over you that I feel chilly myself.”
Mr. Jenkins
, I feel such a cold wave of terror wash over you that I feel chilly myself.”
“Progo—something happened last night—before we met you and Blajeny—when I was all alone in the garden—” Her voice tailed off.
“What
happened, earthling? Tell me. I have a feeling this may be important.”
happened, earthling? Tell me. I have a feeling this may be important.”
Why should it be difficult to tell Proginoskes? The cherubim himself was just as unbelievable. But the cherubim was himself, was Proginoskes, while Mr. Jenkins had not been Mr. Jenkins.
As she tried to explain to Proginoskes she could sense him pulling away, and suddenly he flung all his wings about himself in a frantic
reflex of self-preservation. Then two eyes looked out at her under one wing. “Echthroi.” It was an ugly word. As Proginoskes uttered it the morning seemed colder.
reflex of self-preservation. Then two eyes looked out at her under one wing. “Echthroi.” It was an ugly word. As Proginoskes uttered it the morning seemed colder.
“What did you say?” Meg asked.
“Your Mr. Jenkins—the real one—could he do anything like the one you just told me about? Could he fly into a nothingness in the sky? This is not a thing that human beings can do, is it?”
“No.”
“You
say he was like a dark bird, but a bird that was nothingness, and that he tore the sky?”
say he was like a dark bird, but a bird that was nothingness, and that he tore the sky?”
“Well—that’s how I remember it. It was all quick and unexpected and I was terrified and I couldn’t really believe that it had happened.”
“It sounds like the Echthroi.” He covered his eyes again.
“The what?”
Slowly, as though with a great effort, he uncovered several eyes. “The Echthroi. Oh, earthling,
if you do not know Echthroi—”
if you do not know Echthroi—”
“I don’t want to. Not if they’re like what I saw last night.”
Proginoskes agitated his wings. “I think we must go see this Mr. Jenkins, the one you say is at your little brother’s school.”
“Why?”
Proginoskes withdrew into all his wings again. Meg could feel him thinking grumpily,—They told me it was going to be difficult … Why couldn’t they have sent me off some
place
quiet
to recite the stars again? … Or I’m even willing to memorize farandolae … I’ve never been to Earth before, I’m too young, I’m scared of the shadowed planets, what kind of a star has this planet got, anyhow?
place
quiet
to recite the stars again? … Or I’m even willing to memorize farandolae … I’ve never been to Earth before, I’m too young, I’m scared of the shadowed planets, what kind of a star has this planet got, anyhow?
Then he emerged, slowly, one pair of eyes at a time. “Megling, I think you have seen an Echthros. If we are dealing with Echthroi, then—I just know with every feather on my wings
(and you might try counting my feathers, sometime) that we have to go see this Mr. Jenkins. It must be part of the trial.”
(and you might try counting my feathers, sometime) that we have to go see this Mr. Jenkins. It must be part of the trial.”
“Mr. Jenkins? Part of our first test? But that’s—it doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.”
“Progo,” she objected, “it’s impossible. I can slip off my school bus and then walk to the grade school the way I did when I went to talk to Mr. Jenkins about Charles Wallace—and a
fat lot of good
that
did—”
fat lot of good
that
did—”
“If you have seen an Echthros, everything is different,” Proginoskes said.
“Okay, I can get to the grade school all right, but I can’t possibly take you with me. You’re so big you wouldn’t even fit into the school bus. Anyhow, you’d terrify everybody.” At the thought she smiled, but Proginoskes was not in a laughing mood.
“Not everybody is able to see me,” he told
her. “I’m real, and most earthlings can bear very little reality. But if it will relieve your mind, I’ll dematerialize.” He waved a few wings gracefully. “It’s really more comfortable for me not to be burdened with matter, but I thought it would be easier for you if you could converse with someone you could see.”
her. “I’m real, and most earthlings can bear very little reality. But if it will relieve your mind, I’ll dematerialize.” He waved a few wings gracefully. “It’s really more comfortable for me not to be burdened with matter, but I thought it would be easier for you if you could converse with someone you could see.”
The cherubim was there in front of her, covering most of the star-watching rock,
and then he was not there. She thought she saw a faint shimmer in the air, but it might have been the approach of dawn. She could feel him, however, moving within her mind. “Are you feeling extremely brave, Megling?”
and then he was not there. She thought she saw a faint shimmer in the air, but it might have been the approach of dawn. She could feel him, however, moving within her mind. “Are you feeling extremely brave, Megling?”
“No.” A faint light defined the eastern horizon. The stars were dim, almost extinguished.
“I think we’re going to have to be brave, earth child, but it will be easier because we’re
together. I wonder if the Teacher knows.”
together. I wonder if the Teacher knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That you’ve seen an Echthros.”
“Progo, I don’t understand. What is an Echthros?”
Abruptly, Proginoskes materialized, raised several wings, and gathered her in. “Come, littleling. I’ll take you some place yesterday and show you.”
“How can you take me yesterday?”
“I can’t possibly take you today, silly. It’s time for you to go in to
breakfast and your mother dislikes tardiness. And who knows what we may have to do or where we may have to go before tomorrow? Come.” He drew her further in to him.
breakfast and your mother dislikes tardiness. And who knows what we may have to do or where we may have to go before tomorrow? Come.” He drew her further in to him.
She found herself looking directly into one of his eyes, a great, amber cat’s eye, the dark mandala of the pupil, opening, compelling, beckoning.
She was drawn towards the oval, was pulled into it, was through it.
Into the ultimate
night on the other side.
night on the other side.
Then she felt a great, flaming wind, and knew that somehow she herself was part of that wind.
Then she felt a great shove, and she was standing on a bare stone mountaintop, and Proginoskes was blinking and winking at her. She thought she saw the oval, mandala-eye through which she had come, but she was not sure.
The cherubim raised a great wing to sketch the slow curve
of sky above them. The warm rose and lavender of
sunset faded, dimmed, was extinguished. The sky was drenched with green at the horizon, muting upwards into a deep, purply blue through which stars began to appear in totally unfamiliar constellations.
of sky above them. The warm rose and lavender of
sunset faded, dimmed, was extinguished. The sky was drenched with green at the horizon, muting upwards into a deep, purply blue through which stars began to appear in totally unfamiliar constellations.
Meg asked, “Where are we?”
“Never mind where. Watch.”
She stood beside him, looking at the brilliance of the stars. Then came a sound, a sound
which was above sound, beyond sound, a violent, silent, electrical report, which made her press her hands in pain against her ears. Across the sky, where the stars were clustered as thickly as in the Milky Way, a crack shivered, slivered, became a line of nothingness.
which was above sound, beyond sound, a violent, silent, electrical report, which made her press her hands in pain against her ears. Across the sky, where the stars were clustered as thickly as in the Milky Way, a crack shivered, slivered, became a line of nothingness.
If this kind of thing was happening in the universe, no matter how far away from earth and the Milky Way, Meg did not wonder that
her father had been summoned to Washington and Brookhaven.
her father had been summoned to Washington and Brookhaven.
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