What Entropy Means to Me Read online

  And so the two men walked unharmed among the giant horrors, while Dr. Dread screeched incoherently behind them. They took their leave of the madman's stronghold and continued their interrupted journey.

  "What about Dr. Dread and all his vegetables?" asks Lalichë, with her penchant for tidy endings.

  They were all sadly destroyed in a fire. I suppose the Doctor himself caused it in the extremity of his disappointment.

  A victory for Dore! Our brother handled himself admirably in his mystic martial initiation.

  Chapter Three

  A Woman's Treachery

  There is less of a general stir this morning, but I anticipated that. The reaction is essentially that my second chapter was much more fanciful than anyone expected. There is a sharper division among my brothers and sisters, some intrigued by my imagination, others put off by the implausibility and the "misrepresentations." Mylvelane as "The Trunk-maker" in the Times-Register is still enthusiastic, applauding my independence and my fearless attitude. I think that I will send her a grateful note.

  Now let me begin the day's work. Um. Dore and Glorian have been reunited, once again on their trail to adventure.

  The way led deeper into the primeval forest, and the farther they traveled the fresher Dore felt. Soon the horrors of the previous days receded in his memory, and only a few puzzling factors disturbed his tranquil mind.

  "Glorian?" he asked quietly, as he walked beside his new comrade. "You knew that maniac, didn't you? Why did you get me into that situation in the first place?"

  "Ah, my friend," said the mysterious young man, "I merely provided you with an alternative. It was you alone who chose to enter that domain of evil."

  "But I trusted you!" said Dore. "You should have warned me."

  "It was something of a test. It had to happen sooner or later, and now at least we are both certain of your valor, if not your prudence. I am very glad that things turned out well."

  "So am I," murmured our brother. "And how did you disappear like that? Why did you leave me?" Glorian only smiled. They walked on until late in the day, when Glorian produced apples, dark bread, and ale for their supper.

  "These are the last of my supplies," he said. "Even the Knowledge doesn't permit me to conjure rations for your sustenance."

  "An excellent meal, my friend. Thank you. Now I suppose we must tighten our belts and learn to make do with what we find." After their short supper they walked some more, and the path grew narrower and narrower. When the rains stopped, the moons illuminated our brother and Glorian standing beside an elder micha, bewildered as the trail dwindled and evaporated among the trees.

  "Which way?" asked Glorian. "This is your quest, Dore."

  "Let us stop here for the night. Perhaps in the morning something will give us a hint. I'd like not to stray too far from the River, and already I seem to be lost." The two men settled themselves among the huge roots of the micha and wrapped themselves in their insufficient cloaks. Dore addressed a prayer to Our Father, and was soon asleep.

  "Seyt?"

  What a fortuitous time to be interrupted. I had run out of ideas. It is Relp, this month's Conscience Monitor. I assume that he's come to try my guilt. I welcome him mistrustfully. "Oh, hi, Relp," I say casually.

  "Am I bothering you?" he says, sticking to the formula.

  "No, not at all. I was taking a break."

  "That story of yours keeping you off the streets, eh? Keeps you too busy to sin."

  I laugh. Relp takes his position too seriously. "Guess so," I say.

  "That's what I wanted to see you about. Now, you understand that this is strictly official business, and personal feelings don't enter into it at all. But whenever the person in my office gets a complaint, it's his duty to check it out. You know that; you've been Monitor."

  A horrible experience. I nod. "You've gotten a complaint? Who?"

  "I'm not supposed to tell. But just to show you the ridiculousness of the thing, it's Tere. He says you're verging on blasphemy in that history of yours. I wouldn't know. I haven't read it. But be careful, all right? A conviction for blasphemy is a grievous and permanent thing."

  I assure Relp that I haven't been doing anything seriously wrong. I'm just telling a story; some of my family want to forget that Our Parents and Dore were people, too. They walked around and stubbed their toes and performed bodily functions. Except Our Mother, of course; she just cried. I wish Tere would shut up. I see unhealthy signs of a new regime of religiosity and conservatism.

  Relp gives me his official, cheerless smile, tells me to keep up the good work, and leaves. Perhaps I will talk to Mylvelane or Yord, and get them to do an editorial on the freedom of the perceptive artist in our society. Our Parents would have been horrified to see us sliding toward an oppressiveness that didn't include them.

  Days passed, and Dore marched further into the heart of our world. He communed with his trees and talked with Glorian, and was actually quite happy. The peace and contentment were something he had never known before, as these are qualities we have sacrificed for our sophistication. He did not suffer from hunger, for his knowledge of the forest and Glorian's kept them well-fed, although Dore observed, curiously, that Glorian ate very little. They refreshed themselves at woodland springs, running toward their junction with the River and not yet holy in themselves.

  One afternoon, while Dore was suggesting that they follow one of these streams and thus find the River, the two comrades were startled to hear a loud crashing among the trees before them. Whatever was causing the commotion was still invisible, but Dore drew his sword in preparation. They had met a few small grass dragons and woodcats, but had avoided them without calamity. Now, however, it sounded as though they were about to meet something much larger and wilder. Glorian put his hand on Dore's shoulder. "Don't fear," he said, "we will face this test together." Our brother nodded wordlessly.

  As the mystery came closer they heard cursing, in a frustrated female voice. Dore glanced at Glorian, who shrugged. In a few seconds a young lady came into view but did not appear to notice the two men.

  "Hello," Dore called, "can we be of service?"

  The young woman looked up, startled. "I'm lost in this damn forest," she said, and fell to the ground, crying.

  "So are we," said Dore, "but if you like you may travel with us. I believe we will all fare better together than stumbling our separate ways."

  "He's right, you know," said Glorian. The young woman looked hesitant, naturally fearing to put her trust in two strange and somewhat disheveled men. Dore had removed his crown and jeweled scabbard after the incident with Dr. Dread, carrying them wrapped in a spare white cloak Glorian had somehow "found." Our brother appeared to be a simple soldier of fortune or other sort of vagrant. Glorian's lithe good looks attracted the young woman, as became evident when she took his arm. Dore was amused by his friend's discomfiture.

  "My name is Glorian," said that remarkable man.

  "Of the Knowledge," said Dore, still laughing. "My name is Dore."

  The young woman stood and curtsied prettily. "I am the Princess Dawn des Malalondes," she said. "I was stolen from the palace of my father by the son of Baron von Glech, our bitterest enemy. I managed to flee before that young rascal Snolli could consummate his rape, but he has been hunting me for days. I'm weak with hunger and hopelessly lost." To demonstrate her point, the Princess Dawn fainted into Glorian's arms. The stranger looked at Dore helplessly, and Dore shook his head in wonder.

  "Does not the Knowledge advise you on the ways of women?" asked our brother good-naturedly. "Here, let us permit her to rest beneath this shady tree. We're in no hurry. Be a good man and fetch some water from the spring."

  While Glorian was absent, Dore observed their new companion. She was by far the most beautiful girl Dore had ever seen, fairer than even Aniatrese, our own Beauty Queen. The Princess Dawn's loveliness was not diminished by the rigors of her trial, and even the accumulated dirt of her travels could not hide it. Her hair, matted
now with twigs and leaves, was of the darkest, purest black Dore had ever seen. Her skin contrasted with it startlingly, so white and unblemished was it. Though she was small and delicate, her form was perfect. Dore wished that she would awaken so that he might see what color were her eyes.

  At last Glorian returned with the cold water. Dore did not ask where the man had found the glass. Our brother held the water to her lips, and she began to revive.

  "She is very beautiful," said Dore.

  "But oftentimes such superficial comeliness masks horrors beneath," said Glorian. "I should have thought you to be the last person to judge such a book by its cover."

  The Princess' eyelids began to flutter, and then she sat up suddenly.

  "Goodness," she whispered, "have I fainted? Oh, what a girlish, weak thing to do!"

  "There, there," said Dore, "you've been through a lot. Just rest, now. Put your head on my shoulder."

  The Princess looked around, trying to find Glorian. He was standing a few feet away, looking expectantly at Dore.

  "My lord?" he said, trying to catch Dore's attention. "My lord, if all be well with you now, I think that I will take my leave. My wife expects me soon, and a true harridan she is if I'm late. I thank you again, my lord, and trust that all will be to your liking. If I may be of service again, sir, please don't fail to do me the honor. My lady, my lord, I wish you good day." Then Glorian bowed, turned, and walked off through the forest. The Princess was looking into Dore's face with new interest, so that it was only our brother who saw Glorian fade from view after several steps.

  "Dore, are you of noble birth?" asked the Princess.

  "Yes, truthfully, I am," said Dore, shaking his head with displeasure. "But I desired to travel in disguise, and that poor bungler had to spoil it."

  "Oh, he seemed nice enough. And I'm glad that he did," she said softly and moistly.

  "Come," said Dore, "let us be off."

  "Must we depart so soon?"

  "You are being hunted."

  "Yes," said the Princess, "yes, of course."

  Love is a strange thing. It strikes members of both sexes and all ages. Love doesn't distinguish between rich and poor or good and bad. I recall when I fell in love with Joilliena. It happened after one of Our Mother's lectures on dirt. We were both so bored that we ran back to the house, desperate for diversion. It happened that the rec room was nearly empty, and we played a few games of table tennis. Joilliena was impressed with my top spin, and I gave her a few helpful hints. Afterward we went for a walk outside, unmindful of the evening rain. We held hands, and she picked some flowers for me. We met Dore and his lady, Dyweyne, who were also enjoying the dusky coolness. Dore smiled at me, and I suppose that I was embarrassed. Dyweyne kissed Joilliena's cheek and warned her against vice. But the whiteness of our flowers convinced our eldest sister that our new love was pure. The four of us went down to the River and thought about skipping stones.

  If Dyweyne is upset by my introduction of the Princess Dawn, she should recall that Dore never expected to return, and felt that he might as well accept the bounties of fate. I do not intend the Princess to be any actual rival for Dyweyne and I truly hope my lovely sister doesn't take offense. But Dore was in a lonely and somber state, and we have all had experience with the magic of contiguity. And, incidentally, if Joilliena happens to be out there listening, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank her for those golden moments, and promise her many more over the years to come.

  Was it love that Dore felt, or merely a sexual infatuation? Of course, he is not available for comment, and this is the sort of matter that belongs to the realm of individual assessment. I could enter into a great dissertation on romance, virtue, and the egotism of love, but I won't. I will merely go on without prejudicial sentiment and allow the reader to close his eyes, recall the last few times that he has felt as Dore does, and decide for himself.

  Toward evening the Princess Dawn began to complain of hunger. Dore cursed himself for forgetting his companion's limitations. "I have only some fruit and nuts left from yesterday's meal, my lady," he said. "Here, let us stop and share them. It will be time for the rain soon, and perhaps it will be better to rest."

  "My lord Dore," said the Princess softly, "do you suppose that I might have all the fruit? I am famished and palsied with hunger."

  Dore was bewildered and disappointed, but he couldn't deny the Princess' wish. Human relationships are not as fragile as swooning poets would have us believe. Indeed, rather than the gentle wildflower, love is most like the sturdy, tough vine. It grows and turns and twists, sometimes strangling its support in its blind upward surge. People just don't understand the human mind. Even after these thousands of years of practice, we still haven't learned the basic facts. The true place of humanity in the scheme of things can be approximated by the appalling frequency with which one hears the words "contrary to popular belief."

  After the meal and the rest period, Dore gathered his kit together in preparation for the evening march. The Princess, however, begged him to halt for the night. "You know that today when we met I was nearly exhausted," she said. "I thank you for the relief of your food and this short repose. But I fear that I am sorely in need of one good night's sleep." Again Dore could not refuse her pleasure. He prepared a hard bed for her beneath a large tree, covering her with his cloak.

  "Are you not going to share my resting place, my lord?" she said. "You have done so much for me today; surely you are as fatigued as I."

  "Ah, but then would I not be as foul as that Snolli von Glech whom you avoid so desperately?"

  The Princess Dawn looked up sleepily from her leafy couch. "What I withhold so vigorously from some, I may dispense with joy to others." Dore did not answer, but sat thinking beneath the black, cold sky.

  In the morning Dore was awakened by the sound of the Princess moving about. He said nothing, but watched for several minutes as she opened his bundle and removed his crown and jeweled scabbard. She seemed awestruck by their beauty and opulence. After a time she replaced them and tied up the cloth again. She returned to her bed and feigned sleep. Shortly thereafter Dore stood and went deeper into the woods to attend to his morning's business, and to permit the Princess Dawn to arrange herself in privacy. When he returned he found her still reclining upon the ground, but watching him with mirthful eyes.

  "Good morning, my lord protector. Will you not greet me as expects a woman lost alone with her truly beloved?" She stretched out her arms and Dore, taken with her drowsy charms, sat beside her. The Princess Dawn laughed to herself, for well she understood the powers of love, those that steal gradually upon a person until he is overwhelmed by desire. From Aristophanes we hear the story of the creation of Men, who originally were made with four arms and four legs, but were divided in half for their sins. All love's goal is now to reunite those sundered parts, if but for a moment. Very crude, but charming. Dore could read from the Princess' sighs that she was becoming anxious for such an atavistic conjunction. In those lonesome woods he knew that he could do no better, and, in love's sweet disorder, could see no reason to begin opposing her designs.

  "Ah, Dore, come to me," she whispered. "Nature herself approves: here we will lie in a bed of wild thyme." The Princess lay back expectantly while Dore removed his belt and put Battlefriend carefully with his other treasures. He joined the beautiful Princess and they began their mutual explorations. The bout proceeded without incident until the Princess kissed Dore's ear and said, "Soft, my lord, do not haste. We shall have the day to ourselves." Accordingly, Dore retarded the tempo of his assault, and the two entwined devoted themselves to such intimate games as may be improvised between the roots of a great tree.

  Lalichë storms into my room, a rather small thunderclap in respect of her size. She tugs my arm, forbidding me from continuing the passionate adventure. "I don't like her, and I don't trust her," she says. I inquire of whom she disapproves, and of course she means my lusty Princess. I tell her that she is probably merely jealo
us, an emotion that has caused more grief in this world than any other, in its various guises. What else toppled those topless towers?

  "It wasn't me," says my nonagic sister.

  "Do you mind if I start this thing toward its conclusion?" asked Dore, for his elbows and knees were scraped raw.

  "Let me see," said the Princess, who herself was in a most uncomfortable position with her spine upon a half-buried root. She seemed to think for a few seconds. "Yes, my lord, take me now." And the two, as one, united themselves in moist completion. Almost immediately Dore heard the sound of running feet, and looked up in dismay to see an armored youth absconding with Dore's belongings.

  "It's that wretch, Snolli von Glech!" cried the Princess Dawn.

  "Caught with your pants down again, eh, my friend?" said Glorian from behind the great tree.

  "How long have you been there?" asked Dore angrily. "And why didn't you do anything to stop that thief?"

  "Perhaps it would be more profitable to question your putative Princess," said Glorian, still declining to come into view. "I don't mean to hurry you, but if you would care to recompose yourself, I believe that we can learn some interesting things."

  Dore did as he was bidden, staring impotently after the young thief.

  "Now," said Glorian, "tell my friend who you are."

  The Princess looked at Glorian, and gasped. She cringed against Dore in dismay. "You!" she whispered, her eyes still on Glorian. "Do you guide this man on his quest?"

  Dore was confused, for the man who had stepped from behind the tree in no way resembled the Glorian he had known, except in the tone and firmness of his voice. The new Glorian was short and thickly built, with curly brown hair and a dark complexion. He wore a heavy violet tunic and black breeches, and had a silver band about his brow set with a large sapphire.