Dance Of Death

"Freshly cut grass, with a faint overlay of peonies from the garden."

"What are the sounds?"

"A whip-poor-will. The rustle of beech leaves. The distant murmur of water."

"Good. Very good. Now I want you to rise. Rise off the ground, let yourself float… Look down as you rise. Do you see the lawn, the house, from above?"

"Yes."

"Now rise further. One hundred feet. Two hundred. Look down again. What do you see?"

"The great sprawling house, the carriage house, the gardens, lawns, millhouse, trout hatchery, arboretum, greenhouses, the beechwood forest, and the drive winding to the stone gates. The encircling wall."

"And beyond that?"

"The road to Haddam."

"Now. Make it night."

"It is night."

"Make it day."

"It is day."

"Do you understand that you are in control, that all this is in your head, that none of this is real?"

"Yes."

"During this process, you must always keep that in mind. You are in control, and none of what is happening is real. It is all in your mind."

"I understand that."

"Below, on the lawn, put the members of your family. Who are they? Name them, please."

"My father, Li

There was a long pause.

"Anyone else?"

"And my brother. Diogenes."

"His age?"

"Ten."

"What are they doing?"

"Standing around just where I put them." The voice sounded dry and ironic. Gli

"Put them in some kind of typical activity," Krasner went on smoothly. "What are they doing now?"

"Finishing tea on a blanket spread out on the lawn."

"Now I want you to drift down. Slowly. Join them."

"I am there."

"What are you doing, exactly?"

"Tea is over and Great-Aunt Cornelia is passing a plate of petits fours. She has them brought up from New Orleans."

"Are they good?"

"Naturally. Great-Aunt Cornelia has the highest standards." The tone of Pendergast's voice was laden with irony, and Gli

"What kind of tea did you take?" asked Krasner.

"Great-Aunt Cornelia will only drink T. G. Tips, which she has sent over from England."

"Now look around the blanket. Look at everyone. Gaze around until your eyes come to rest on Diogenes."

A long silence.

"What does Diogenes look like?"

"Tall for his age, pale, with very short hair, eyes of two different colors. He is very thin and his lips are overly red."

"Those eyes, look into them. Is he looking at you?"

"No. He has turned his head away. He does not like to be stared at."

"Keep staring at him. Stare hard."

A longer silence. "I have averted my eyes."

"No. Remember, you control the scene. Keep staring."

"I don't choose to."

"Speak to your brother. Tell him to rise, that you wish to speak to him in private."

Another, longer silence. "Done."

"Tell him to come with you to the summerhouse."

"He refuses."

"He ca

Even through the monitor, Gli

"Tell Diogenes that there is a man waiting for him in the summerhouse who wants to ask you both some questions. A Dr. Krasner. Tell him that."

"Yes. He will come to see the doctor. He is curious that way."

"Excuse yourselves and walk to the summerhouse. Where I am waiting."

"All right."

A brief silence. "Are you there?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, what do you see?"

"We're inside. My brother is standing here, you're here, I'm here."

"Good. We shall remain standing. Now, I will ask you and your brother some questions. You will relay your brother's answers to my questions, since he ca

"If you insist," said Pendergast, a touch of irony returning to his voice.

"You control the situation, Aloysius. Diogenes ca

"Yes."

"Tell Diogenes to look at you. To stare at you."

"He won't."

"Make him. With your mind, make him do it."

A silence. "All right."

"Diogenes, I am now speaking to you. What is your first memory of your older brother, Aloysius?"

"He said he remembers me drawing a picture."

"What is the picture?"

"Scribbles."

"How old are you, Diogenes?"

"He says six months."

"Ask Diogenes what he thinks of you."

"He thinks of me as the next Jackson Pollock."

That ironic tone again, thought Gli

"That would not normally be the thought of a six-month-old baby."

"Diogenes is answering as a ten-year-old, Dr. Krasner."

"Fine. Ask Diogenes to keep looking at you. What does he see?"

"He says nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing? He isn't speaking?"

"He spoke. He said the word nothing."

"What do you mean by the word nothing!"

"He says, 'I see nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.'"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a quotation from Wallace Stevens," said Pendergast dryly. "Even at ten, Diogenes was partial to Stevens."

"Diogenes, when you say 'nothing,' does that mean you feel your brother, Aloysius, is a nonentity?"

"He laughs and says the words are yours, not his."

"Why?"

"He is laughing harder."

"How long will you be at Ravenscry, Diogenes?"

"He says until he goes back to school."

"And where is that?"

"St. Ignatius Loyola on Lafayette Street, New Orleans."

"How do you like school, Diogenes?"

"He says he likes it as much as you would like being shut up in a room with twenty-five mental defectives and a middle-aged hysteric."

"What is your favorite subject?"

"He says experimental biology… on the playground."

"Now I want you, Aloysius, to ask Diogenes three questions, which he must answer. You must make him answer them. Remember, you are in control. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"What is your favorite food, Diogenes?"

"Wormwood and gall."

"I want a straight answer."

"That, Dr. Krasner, is the one thing you will never get from Diogenes," said Pendergast.

"Remember, Aloysius, that it is you who are actually answering the questions."

"And with great forbearance, I might add," said Pendergast. "I am doing all I can to suspend my disbelief."