Mason & Dixon (73 page)

Frowning at his Luo-Pan, the mystic Chinaman shakes his head and mutters, "Even the currents of Earth are with them."

" 'Them'?"

"I have an enemy in these parts, I believe,— a certain Jesuit who does not wish me well."

"French?" inquires Mason.

"Spanish, I believe. Father Zarpazo, the Wolf of Jesus, as he is known in his native Land, though I had the misfortune to meet him in my own. He has his Training directly from those who persecuted Molinos and his followers,— he is accordingly sworn to destroy all who seek God without passing through the toll-gate of Jesus. The Molinistas, as do certain Buddhists of my own land, believ'd that the most direct Way to the Deity was to sit, quietly. If this meant using Jesus as but a stage on a journey, or even passing him by, why so be it. Buddhists speak of finding it necessary, if the Buddha be blocking one's Way, to kill him. Jesuits do not like to hear this sort of thing, of course, it puts far too much into question. If access to God need not be by way of Jesus, what is to become of Jesuits? And the sheer amount of Silence requir'd,— do you think they could ever abide that?

"Zarpazo,— as relentless in his hatred of those he hunts down as they are indifferent, in their love of God, to the passions driving him. Jansenist Convulsionaries, Crypto-Illuminati, and Neo-Quietists alike have felt his cultivated Wrath, some taken before dawn by men in black, others accosted brazenly upon the steps of cathedrals,— clapp'd into

 
iron and leather restraints, going along amiably enough, puzzl'd, sure it must be a mistake.

"European docility,— no one with Power has ever under-appreciated its comforts. So you may imagine the loss of morale, among visitors such as Padre Zarpazo, before the fact of China, as they see how far from Docility they have journeyed,— and what they have come into the midst of. Wild Chinamen! How could they ever have deem'd us ready for their Jesus? Somehow Feng-Shui became their principal Enemy. Without it in the World,— is this what they believ'd?— Jesus would have a better chance of finding converts in China. Accordingly, 'twould be a holy Service to destroy Feng-Shui."

Zhang adverts to his Luo-Pan, and with fingers unhesitating proceeds to move various of its Rings forward and retrograde. Dixon, happening by, is drawn by the Instrument.

"Another Needle man,— so there's two of us. Ah hope Mason's not troubling thee upon the Topick,— he's unusually loyal to Heavenly Methods, is all."

"You would find even more congenial a Disciple of the Fuh-kien School, whose faith in the Needle is absolute,— whereas I am of the Kan-cheu School, which places the Dragon of the land above all else. Come, look. See here? These are the Moon-stations, the Stars fix'd and moving, signs of the Zodiack...we use all that,— but first comes the Dragon, and what the Needle responds to, is the Dragon's very Life."

"What Mason can't abide is that it never points to what he calls True North. As if the Needle's were False North."

"Zarpazo as well,— his Vows include one sworn to Zero Degrees, Zero Minutes, Zero Seconds, or perfect North. He is the Lord of the Zero. The Impurity of this Earth keeps him driven in a holy Rage.—
 
Which is why he wants this Visto."

" 'Wants— ' "

"News of the Visto will bring him surely as a Gaze brings a Suitor. Purity of Azimuth is his Passion. He was in Italy when your Sponsor Le Maire was producing the Line from Rome to Rimini, he was in Peru with La Condamine and in Lapp-land with Bouguer,— 'tis his Destiny to inflict these Tellurick Injuries, as 'tis mine to resist them.”

"I didn't know than'. Thee come here, then, to oppose our Mission...? to seek our Failure...? Why, Sir? What possible ill Motives can we be serving, in marking out this tiny bit of a Lesser Circle?"

"Once, Monsieur Allegre had as little hesitation in slicing straight thro' the carcasses of Animals and viewing aesthetickally the patterns of Bone and Fat and Flesh thus expos'd. Now, no longer! Heaven has permitted him to see the distinction between Blade and Body,— the aggressive exactitude of one, the helpless indeterminacy of the other. In that difference lies the Potency of the Sin."

"Eeh,— but,— that's Jesuit talk. Captain.—
 
The fell'd Trees aren't just lying there unus'd. There are plenty of Americans but a short trip away who come and fetch them for Firewood or Fences or building-Logs. How can tha think so ill of this Line? A fellow Surveyor. I cannot imagine it."

"Fret not,— my business is with the Jesuit. We happen to be the principal Persona? here, not you two! Nor has your Line any Primacy in this, being rather a Stage-Setting, dark and fearful as the Battlements of Elsi-nore, for the struggle Zarpazo and I must enact upon the very mortal Edge of this great Torrent of sha,— which at any moment either of us might slip, fall in, and be borne away, Westward, into the Vanishing-Point and gone."

"And Mason and I,— "

"Bystanders. Background. Stage-Managers of that perilous Flux,— little more."

"Eeh." Dixon thinks about it. "Well it's no worse than Copernicus, is it...? The Center of it all, moving someplace else like thah'...? Better not mention this to Mason."

P. Zarpazo being a master of disguise, Capt. Zhang, by now half insane anyway, becomes convinced that the Priest has actually penetrated the Camp, and only waits his moment to administer that poison'd Stiletto preferr'd by a Jesuit confronting Error. "It's got to be an axman," the Captain decides. "They come and go with entire freedom. Each possesses a Rifle and a choice of Blades. It could be Mr. Barnes. It could even be Stig. Yes! Yes that's it, 'tis Stig!"

"Friend Zhang," soothes Dixon, "Stig is in a number of difficulties at the moment, but none includes you. He could find neither the time, nor

 
the repose of Spirit, to cause you harm in any way that a Jesuit would describe as at all useful. The same is true of the other Hands. Ev'ryone is too busy."

"He's here," insists the far too bright-eyed Geomancer. "If he's not an axman, then,— he must be one of the camp-followers,— Guy Spit the Pass-bank Bully, one of those Vasquez Brothers,— even one of Mrs. Eggslap's Girls. There is no limit to his ingenuity!"

"If he were one of the Ladies, Stig would have discover'd thah' by now."

"Stig could be a Confederate!"

"Captain, pray regard yourself."

The Oriental Operative thereupon grows bodily plumb and symmet-rick,— his eyelids lower, his breathing decelerates, and presently he bows in Apology. "You're right, of course. I'm behaving like Chef Armand with his Duck. Which of us doesn't have an Unseen Persecutor? My case is probably no worse than your own."

"Mine...? Why," Dixon again fumescent, "I'm brisk as a Bee these Days. Not a care in the World. Who'd be after me?" Yet he avoids meeting Zhang's eyes.

' 'Tis widely assum'd that you are here on behalf of the Jesuit Le Maire, co-engineer with Boscovich, fifteen years ago, of yet another long, straight Europeans' Line, the Two Degrees of Latitude sliced across Italy from Rome to Rimini. Ever since then, Sha has flow'd unremittingly across that miserably Empoped and beduked and Dismember'd Peninsula, Tuscany and Milan taken by Austria, Modena and Genoa by the French, despotism ev'rywhere...."

"Come, come, beg to differ, even a simple child of the Pit country knows that since that last peace Treaty, why Italy's been enjoying a long and wonderful era of prosperity and improvement. If this be Despotism,...?"

"Go to Italy," scolds the Captain, "and look."

"Well,— what about Maria Theresa, then...?"

"The Jesuit Protectress,— a charming exception to the reign of Brutality uncheck'd, throughout the rest of Christendom,— whilst your Jesuits go on attempting to eradicate Feng-Shui from human awareness, and to promote the inscription upon the Earth of these enormously long straight Lines,— as in Lapp-land, in Peru, Encyclopédistes in expedi-

tionary Costume, squirting Perfume about, and taking these exquisitely

precise Sights whilst neglecting to turn their Instruments.... Tho'

Degrees of Longitude and Latitude in Name, yet in Earthly reality are they Channels mark'd for the transport of some unseen Influence, one carefully assembl'd cairn, one Oolite Prism, one perfectly incis'd lead Plate, to the next,— when these are dispos'd in a Right Line aim'd at Ohio, it is natural to inquire, what other scientifick Workings may lie in the area— Who'd benefit most? None, it would seem, but the consciously criminal in Publick Life as in Private, who know how to tap into the unremitting torrent of Sha roaring all night and all day, and convert it to their own uses. Howling like a great Boulevard of souls condemn'd to wander up and down the grim surfaces."

"Moreover," now interjects Mr. Everybeet the Quartz-scryer, "west of here, in the Hills 'round Cheat and Monongahela, are secret Lead Mines, which the Indians guard jealously." These Deposits occur not as Flats, as in Durham, nor as Veins, as in Derbyshire, but rather as spherickal Caverns, of wondrous Regularity, fill'd with a Galena, remarkably pure, nearly free of other Minerals. "Perfect Spheres of Lead ore, that is, are situated inside those Mountains, often dozens of Yards across, exerting Tellurick Effects unfathomable." Mr. Everybeet now produces a powerful Glass, beneath which he places samples of finely divided Rock. "The Limestone Matrix thro' which these Plumbaginous Orbs are distributed, proves to be of a peculiar sort, already familiar to you."

"Oolite," Mason and Dixon suppose.

"Plenty out here, ev'ryplace ye go, they sure didn't need to import it from England." The Surveyors have a look thro' the Glass, which reveals a fine structure of tiny Cells, each a Sphere with another nested concen-trickally within, much like Fish Roe in appearance. " - Your own Linear Emplacement of Marker-Stones, whatever the reason, requires this sort of Fine structure, weakly tho' precisely Magnetick,— Lime, in certain of the Cells, having been replac'd with Iron,— whereas the fam'd Egyptian Pyramids, whose ever-mystickal Purposes, beyond the simply Funerary, are much speculated upon, requir'd Limestone with another sort of Fine Structure altogether,— containing numberless ancient Shells, each made up of hundreds of square Chambers, arrang'd in perfect Spirals.”

He has been out to the secret Ore-diggings, at Night, amid a maze of Hills and Hollows, with Sentries at ev'ry turn of the Trail. Out-croppings of Limestone, whiter than they ought to be, shone in the Star-light. He was met by Native Vendors, with Coils, and Foils, and Bars of Lead, half-inch Balls and small unflattering Toy images including those of the King, and Mr. Franklin. The odor of Sulfur was ev'rywhere. The Valleys were lit with many small Fires, at each of which Ore was being burn'd to a Regulus of the Metal. Among the Indian smelters, Proximity to Fumes and Dust had produc'd a number of Ailments, from chronick Melancholy to haunting without Mercy, to early Death. They gap'd at the Scryer with blunted, sorrowing faces, some screaming words that no one offer'd to translate.

"Most unhappy," recalls Mr. Everybeet. "Not at all the Paradise one has been led to expect. Lead out here is a much-needed metal,— who controls Lead controls the supply of Ammunition, for all sides in ev'ry Dispute, not to mention a segment of the Tellurick-energy Market. Celeron's lead Plates may indeed have been but the visible Calibrating Devices for a much more extensive Engine below,— perhaps an Array of them, and a City to surround that...a Plutonian History unfolding far below our feet, all unknown to us above, but for occasional Volcanoes and Earth tremors. A complete, largely unsens'd World, held within our own, like a child in a Womb, waiting for some Summons to Light...."

"I consider'd myself not unacquainted with Mania," records the Revd, "but until the Spectacle I and, by now, ev'ryone else in camp are witnessing Capt. Zhang make of himself, I have known, I collect, as yet but few of its Flow'rings. 'I shall wear black robes,' he declares, '— if El Lobo de Jesus may, why so shall I.' And he does. Spanish phrases increasingly creep into his Conversation, and a small Beard is one day visible upon his chin."

"Spend enough time in these Mountains," as Capt. Shelby avers, "and sooner or later you see ev'rything. This has happen'd out here before, tho' they usually change into real Wolves...?”

"Well I can't understand it," frowns Mason, "— the Chinese are known far and wide as a learned and sagacious People, quite beyond behavior of this sort,—

"Except," Dixon points out, "that this one is insane, of course."

Mason spreads his hands. "Which of us can say?"

"Falls a few Links short of a Chain, for fair...?"

"Yet,— if he were telling the truth? and there were a dangerous Spaniard on his way here? 'twould be trouble for the Party, without Doubt. Either way, we might have to ask the Captain to leave."

"Eeh,— now they're chucking Stilettos about, it's 'we' again...?"

"Look ye, Dixon, only you can get him to go. He already thinks you're a Jesuit Agent. All you have to do is advise him to stay, and he'll do the opposite."

"If he believes that his enemy may arrive at any moment, he'll prefer to wait, won't he...?— feeling safer, as who would not, among arm'd Protestants...?"

"¡Andale, mis Hijos!" 'Tis the Chinaman himself. It had better be. Axmen nonetheless go scattering, spilling coffee, clutching what's left of evening Mess. Capt. Shelby puts on a Pair of Philadelphia Pebble-Lenses to verify what he seems to be seeing. Mason, making encouraging gestures, urges Dixon, "Go on,...go on," in loud whispers, as he takes himself behind the Cook's Waggon. Dixon stares. The Metamorphosis is alarming. Violet Piping outlines the Captain several times over against the perfect Black of the Soutane. He turns, revealing upon the back a gigantick and Floridly render'd Chinese Dragon, in many colors, including Heliotrope and Prussian Blue.

"By the time he finally arrives in this Camp," announces Capt. Zhang, "no one will be able to tell, which is the real Zarpazo. We Two will meet then in a struggle to the death, witness'd by all...the axmen will place bets.. .there will be beer and Dutch Pretzels, a bottomless Urn of Coffee, depending how long the contest takes, perhaps a free Luncheon as well."