Farfetch

Jindigar's arms enfolded her, and she felt his love like a tangible energy vibrating in her bones, making her want to live so much that the agony of slow death redoubled. //I'm sorry, Takora—I wish it could have been otherwise.//

"//Look!//" She freed a hand and pointed, both sending the alert via the duad link and yelling with her voice.

One of the panels had detached itself from the maelstrom and was arrowing toward them. It twirled on several axes as it melted away, leaving a three-dimensional image spi

Spotting them, he swam toward them, body glowing with an odd indigo light. Without preamble he grabbed them by the upper arms, shoving them before him as if he wore a free-fall maneuvering pack. Within the Archive, his own element, his naked will had the power of a ship's drive. In seconds they were speeding between panels of exotic scenes too bizarre to comprehend. After dizzying twists and turns he propelled them toward an oblique corner where black borders between panels joined and warped into another dimension. "Go!"

They slammed through what felt like a soap bubble membrane and popped out over a narrow ledge cut into the side of a sloping pi

Jindigar picked himself up, assessed the portal, and a

She knew what had happened then> though her memory seemed to be blurring. Somehow Threntisn had heard her and had decided to risk himself to save them and the Archive—by throwing them out through one of the anchor points she'd pla

Squinting against the searing light, she forged ahead until she fell over a ridge and into knee-deep water. On hands and knees she managed to get an eye open and saw the water stretched ahead into the dark blue of ocean deeps, but a plume of spray rose from its center, spreading mist between her and the figure standing on the far shore, tall, white-clad, filling her vision, impossibly bright—seemingly a figurine lit from within. Flanking it crouched two ferocious-looking animals. As she scrambled to her feet mist and light cast rainbows around the figure.

Jindigar was standing on top of the water before the figurine. "Who are you?" challenged the odd being.

"All and none," answered Jindigar. "There is only one identity, of which I am an infinitely small increment. Yet I contain the pattern of the whole."

"What do you seek?"

'To practice the Laws of Nature."

"Sufficient, though you may find it more difficult than you expect."

Jindigar sighed. "Don't I always?" And he trudged past the figurine onto a white, crushed gravel path that led into the distance where grass and trees dotted a peaceful landscape. He turned and beckoned to Krinata, and she started toward the Guardian. Before she'd gone two steps, he challenged her.

"Who are you?" asked the figure.

"All and none," she said, and started on past.

"That's not your own answer." The figure raised a hand, and she was-held in place by an invisible force. "Who are you?"

'Tm not sure. I have many names. Takora, for one."

"I didn't ask your name; your identity."

She suddenly felt on the verge of tears, like a small child caught fibbing about her name. "So call me Krinata if you prefer! I'm not even sure what identity is!"

"What distinguishes you from all others?"

She searched the far reaches of memory and was astonished when a black wall barred her from questing more than a few decades back. She swallowed sudden fear and answered, "I'm the first human to join a Dushau in an Oliat subform. I was with Jindigar in duad. He's right there." She pointed.

"Ah, then do you define yourself in terms of what you do or of who you know?"

The stupidity of her answer crashed in on her, and she chewed her lip, perplexed.

Patiently the figure asked, "If I took what you do and who you know away from you, who would you be?"

"A believer in peace. I wouldn't torment you like this!"

"So you define yourself as different from others by what you believe about right and wrong."

Way out on the plain, Jindigar turned his back and began to walk away, shoulders slumped, head bowed, failure and dejection in his every move. In a sudden fit of urgency she threw a fistful of water at the figure, though the drops fell short even of* the fountain between them. "If you don't let me pass, I'll go around you!" She cupped her hands around her lips and whistled piercingly. "Jindigar! Wait!"

"You'll have to travel the other ways eventually, but those roads are much harder." Gently the figure asked, "What is it about your identity that you fear so much?"

At wits' end, she snarled, "Losing it, you fool!"

Reasonably the figure replied, "But if you don't know what it is, how do you know you have it?"

"What is this, the riddle of the Sphinx? I've got to catch up to Jindigar!" She waded into the water, determined to swim across and force her way by the figure onto his path. But she sank like a stone. Mentally she cried out in frustration, So I don't have an identity! I'm nobody!

She began to float to the surface where light beckoned, and a suspicion seeped into her consciousness. She surfaced on the other side of the fountain, close to the figure. Furious at being tricked but triumphant at having seen through it, she declared, "There's no such thing as identity! That's the answer to your riddle!"

Something solid hit her feet, and she stood, waist-deep.

"Your attitude is not optimal, but you may essay the journey—at your own personal risk."

Crazy Dushau! If there's no such thing as identity, how can anyone take a personal risk! But she kept her thought to herself and trudged up out of the water, right through the figure, as if it were a projection, and out onto the trail that snaked away toward the distant mountains. She hurried to catch up to the indigo form that scuffed along the path far ahead of her, shoulders bent in defeat.

Almost as she willed her feet to move, she was beside him. He looked around startled. //Ontarrah!//

Ill wish you'd stop calling me strange names. I know your silly Sphinx doesn't think identity exists, but I'm a bit attached to mine. I'm Takora—I mean, Krinata.//

//Yes, Ontarrah, anything you say. But walk a little! faster. We've got to get to the concert before it's over.//

She was so disturbed to be mistaken for Ontarrah, she strode off ahead of him, trying to outrun the knotted tangle of emotions that mistake evoked. But Takora knew that that particular grieving scar stood at a crossroad of memory Jindigar had to travel in every farfetching. Familiarity didn't dim its bright pain. She had only viewed Grisnilter's recording of Ontarrah's death. Jindigar had to relive it all, every time he wanted total recall of something that had happened before Ontarrah.

She slowed the pace of her irrational flight, waiting for him to catch up to her. She heard the music then; it was sweet, with a strong, triumphant beat, a thrill of gratitude, and a celebration of truth. As she got closer she could grab hold of it and shape it, guide it, infuse it with the energies gathering within her that had no other outlet. Her heart was made of music, and music filled reality. It became the substance of identity, pulsing back and forth within her body, leaving reawakened senses in its wake, defining the meaning of life.