A Beggar’s Kingdom

“Hard to minimize it, Devi.” Julian rolled up his sleeve, thrusting the inside of his forearm across the coffee table into the cook’s face. “You see the ink? Forty-five minimized tattoos.”

“Is that how many days you had?”

“No. I got sick of marking them, so I missed some. A week, maybe more.”

Devi bowed his head.

“Let’s not minimize it,” Julian said. “Let’s maximize it, shall we? Here on my arm is the answer to the question I asked you before the first time I went. Do you remember?”

“I remember.”

“I asked you if I was going to find her young or old. And you said young. But you were wrong. Or lying. Which is it?”

Devi didn’t speak.

“I asked you at what point I was going to be inserted into her life, and you told me you didn’t know. Were you lying?”

“No.”

“Well, now you know,” Julian said. “And I know. Aren’t you glad we’re both so full of knowledge. When I find her, she’s not young.” Julian fell back against the cushions. “She is old. Each time she is at the end of her life.” Barely able to breathe, as if his lungs were still filled with smoke, he stared at the columns of black dots on his arm. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

“Is that too much time, Julian, or not enough?” Devi said. “I’m not clear. Because most of us don’t get even a picosecond extra.”

“Oh, fuck that.”

“I told you not to go,” the shaman whispered.

“You didn’t tell me she would die again!” Julian yelled.

“Control your temper. I told you, you couldn’t change things. I told you this over and over.”

“Okay, fine,” Julian said through his teeth. “You told me. I hear you—finally. Loud and clear. I’m done with this bullshit. With all of it.” He glared at Devi.

“Yes,” Devi said. “By all means live out your days in bitter pity for yourself while your life passes you by.” He stood up, gathering his hat into his hands and left.

After Ashton came back from Valentina’s with some precooked chicken and rice and found Devi gone and Julian back in his room, he banged on the bedroom door. “Food’s here.”

Julian sat on the sofa, Ashton across from him.

“So the man left?”

“The man left.”

“They took him back?” When Julian said nothing, Ashton said, “Who was he?”

“A cook from Great Eastern Road.”

“Cook. Great Eastern Road. Really. Well. Thanks for clearing that up.” When Julian offered nothing else, Ashton pressed further. “Is he the shaman you were asking me about a year ago? Some Hmong man who summoned the dead?”

Julian half-nodded.

“Does he have anything to do with what happened to you?”

Julian half-nodded.

“Jules, I can’t play twenty questions. I’m not Socrates. I’m going to start throwing shit by the next question. Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“Forget it, Ash. Honestly. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past.” Julian clenched and unclenched his hands. “And you don’t want to know.”

“Like hell I don’t. And it’s not in the past. It’s the fucking here and now. Julian, you left home in the morning and by the afternoon you were in an ICU with smoke inhalation and electrocution burns. Does that sound like the past to you?”

“If I tell you, you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

For interminable minutes, Julian stared at Ashton. “Short or long?”

“Short. Elevator pitch. Two sentences.”

“Devi showed me a way to go back in time to find Josephine. And I’ve gone twice.”

“Go back, like astral projection?”

“Go back, like body and soul.”

At first, Ashton was without words. “It’s a terrible pitch,” he said finally. “Based on that, I won’t be able to produce your script, I’m afraid. It’s not even remotely believable and you’ve left too many hanging questions. Have you got anything else? I’m serious now. Anything else.”

“The first time I went, she died,” Julian said. “And I was blasted back into my present life. It was just before you moved here. I went again a month ago. I thought I was leaving London for good. If she hadn’t died, I’d still be there with her. But … here I am, so.” He took a breath. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, Julian,” Ashton said slowly. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m nuts.”

“No.”

“I leap into a wormhole,” Julian said, “and float for a long time down an underground river, and when I come out on the other side, she lives.”

Ashton draped himself over the couch. “Okay,” he said. “I guess it’s time for the long version.” He shot up. “Wait!” From the kitchen he brought a bottle of Grey Goose, two glasses, some ice, and some soda water. He made the drinks, gave one to Julian, didn’t clink, and gulped down half of his. “Go.”

Julian spoke for a long time. Meridian, crystal, the Transit Circle, tear in the fabric of the universe, future tense, moongate, river, dead queen, Wales, Mary, Lord Falk, the Silver Cross, Mallory, Fabian, Margrave, murder, gold, the Fire. Body immolating and reforming at the speed of light. Correction: at the speed of light, squared.

Ashton reached over and swallowed Julian’s untouched vodka.

“I know how it sounds,” Julian said.

“Oh no, my friend. I don’t think you do.”

“Do you remember the dream I used to have of her? Where she is walking toward me, happy and smiling? Devi says it could be a vision of her and me in the future.”