Tours of the Black Clock

138

ONE BY ONE I blow out the lanterns that still burn, casting his hallway into pitch black. The blue hall that divides his from mine is now the dark deep blue of night; when we reach its mouth there’s a sudden pandemonium of wings, the old feeble birds of the city panicked and thunderous. The old man’s eyes fly around maniacally at this. We get to my hallway, a dim gold from the last lanterns burning; I blow them out too. The guards stir and groan in disorientation, and then settle back to sleep. I push open the door of my room. Giorgio’s there waiting. For a moment I fear Giorgio will recognize him. He’ll recognize him and hate me, and they’ll all hate me, all the Giorgios and Brunos and Marias who treated me as though I belonged among them. They’ll hate me as they have a right to hate me: this is what I’m thinking there in the doorway of my room. What will the discovery of my deceit do to their village and life, I’m thinking, how will anything ever be the same for them again. In this moment, standing in the doorway of my room, I believe I’ve made a terrible mistake, I believe that once again I’ve corrupted something, when I should simply have said to Giorgio’s offer of escape, Leave me. But Giorgio looks at Z and sees only what in fact Z is, only an old man; and the fisherman helps me set him on the bed where he can rest. Giorgio has brought a brown cloak for me but we wrap it around Z. He’s very old, Giorgio says, it could be a difficult trip for him. But I understand, he adds, that you cannot possibly leave him. We’ll do our best. I nod humbly. We’ll get you another cloak out on the boat, Giorgio says. After the old man has rested a few minutes Giorgio says, with great apology in his voice, It’s important we leave right now. I nod again, silently and we lift the old man up, and Giorgio lowers himself into the tunnel. The old man goes next, and then I follow.

T.O.T.B.C. — 15