...Gableplunk liked to work with his hands as well as his mind. The harvests had begun. He often hiked to the south ridge and watched the pickers strip the vines in the distant vineyards. Subtle changes in color marked their path. The barn roof was badly in need of repair. Gableplunk worked each day in the sun, laying the black tar paper and nailing the new shingles. He worked naked; pads protected his knees and his body turned golden with the passage of days. In the afternoons the river and the little creatures at its edge beckoned him. He followed their call and he and Horse bathed before crossing and traveling into town.
...The town was alive with the excitement of the season. Many students returning to the University worked in the vineyards for the weeks of harvest. Wages were high, the grapes lush; everyone had the fever.
...Taverns were crowded and Gableplunk moved among the people, feeling the glow. He saw people he recognized, the barmaid Mara, and the shop owner who'd sold him his saddle and harness. Horse was stalled at the blacksmith's. Other men had ridden to town and Horse wasn't alone.
...It was a warm and clear evening. The town was flooded with people and lights though the sun hadn't set. Cars and cycles and men on horses shared the same streets. A great festivity was in the air.
...Someone held his arm and pulled him into the street. A woman looked into his face. "Pretty, pretty man," she said, kissing him on the lips. She laughed and disappeared into the crowd.
...Gableplunk blinked.
..."Have a lick, a man said, thrusting a jug into his hands.
..."Thank you," Gableplunk said. He took a deep draught.
..."You're welcome," the man said. "Have a good time. The wine's light; spirits are light and the town's alive tonight. The harvests are in, at least some of them, and the celebration lasts for days. Are you a stranger here? I haven't seen you before. Will you join me for a walk?"
..."Yes. Thank you," Gableplunk said. They walked down the street and talked.
...They stopped before a wooden door and the man asked him inside.
..."What's in there?" Gableplunk asked, and the man replied, "A poker game!"
...Gableplunk laughed and went in.
...They walked through a corridor and into a back room. A light hung over a green table surrounded by different men. Gableplunk's companion asked him to stand and watch while he pulled up a chair and sat in.
...The stakes were high, too high for Gableplunk. After a time, he moved from the light and wandered back to the corridor. He turned left, then right, but couldn't find the door to the street. He emerged from behind a desk and surprised the hotel attendant.
...Gableplunk realized where he was.
..."Hi Lenny," he said.
...The attendant looked to the door and back to Gableplunk.
..."Oh, hi Mister G." He sat down and picked up his magazine.
...Gableplunk walked to the window and gazed outside. The streets were still crowded. He walked back to the desk and asked for a room.
..."Sorry. None left. Wine men in town."
..."Does this make a room available?" Gableplunk asked as he held out his hand.
..."No," the attendant said. "The hotel is filled."
..."Does this?" Gableplunk asked, doubling the amount.
..."First floor front, number twenty-three." Lenny reached under the counter and gave Gableplunk a key. "You're fortunate. I remembered we had one left."
...Gableplunk thanked him. "Aren't we both fortunate Lenny?"
...Lenny thought for a second, not exactly sure of what he was hearing. "Uh huh."
..."Lenny, if Lilah's available would you call her and ask if she'll come over?"
..."Sure, Mister G."
..."Good. Thanks. I'll see you later."
...Gableplunk took the key and walked upstairs. He found the room, opened and entered.
...It was a pleasant room with windows over the main street. He walked to the window, opened it and looked below. The streets were still crowded. Gableplunk looked to his right at the center, then to his left to the far end of town. Could he believe his eyes? The sun was beginning to set. A deep orange glow suffused the dust from the street. A surreal apparition, Max appeared at the far end of town.
...He was unmistakable. No man dwarfed a vehicle as he did. Above the jeep strung from poles where flags must have been was the banner

Slowly, he drove toward the center of town.
...People in the street made way. Everyone seemed to know him. Some slapped his back and offered congratulations. A young boy jumped into the seat and Max ruffled his hair. The boy pushed his hand away and Max laughed. He stopped for a moment and spoke to a woman and a child. They climbed in and rode to the center of town.
...As they passed below his window Gableplunk realized that he couldn't call out. He wouldn't be heard above the din.
...Max stopped again and his passengers got out. He drove a short distance farther and disappeared into the sunset.
......Amazing!
Street lamps burst into electric flames and glowed in the dusk, foretelling the evening's mirth and lusty games.
......I'm amazed!
...He telephoned the desk and asked for a bottle of chilled wine. The attendant had a boy bring it to his room. Gableplunk pulled a chair to the window and watched the activity below. The sky darkened and the evening pursued its course. Men and women walked in all directions. Taverns were crowed; cars honked horns; neon lights flashed. The wine was excellent! He sat fascinated, thinking, dreaming. Only after the mid-night did the crowds begin to thin. Gableplunk played variations on his pocket tab chess set, transferring the dying excitement from without to within.
...A knock on the door. Gableplunk walked over and opened it.
..."Hi Lilah."
..."Hi."
..."How've you been?"
..."Good. Okay."
...Gableplunk ushered her in.
..."Did you make tuition yet?"
..."Oh, sure. Months ago."
..."What year are you in now?"
..."Senior. I'll be graduating in the spring."
..."You're in Engineering. Do you have any offers?"
..."No, not yet. The recruiters'll start coming around in February."
..."I was in Engineering. Worked out of the country for a few years. Made terrific money! I have contacts in less dangerous places if you're interested in working overseas. Let me know when the time comes. I mean it. This business is too tough."
..."Not nearly as dangerous as the city."
..."Ever work in the city?"
..."Once for a few weeks. Too restrictive for my taste. Too many people with fingers in your pie, no pun intended."
...G. laughed. "Mmm. The work you do produces a surfeit of cash. You need to understand how to invest it, if only to get it off your hands. If you're interested I can teach you the basics of investing: how to move your money back and forth between currencies and tangible goods like commodities and real estate- you also need to be aware of the geopolitical forces that drive these markets. If you know this stuff you may not even need to work in Engineering unless you really love it."
..."Uh huh. Well thank you very much. I'll keep you in mind. No, I mean it. I will. What do you have in mind for tonight?"
..."Your call about the investing info. I'll be around. You still doing 'Three-way'?"
..."Sure."
..."Same rate?"
..."Uh huh. You have your med cert?"
..."Sure. It's fresh. You have yours?"
...They swapped Doctor's certificates for STDs, took quick looks at the dates.
..."Okay." Gableplunk took some money from his pocket and counted off the bills. "What would you charge to stay the night, if you can?"
..."Double but I have classes at ten."
..."That's okay. I can get up early. I'll buy you breakfast."
..."You're on. Feeling lonely?" Lilah was opening the front of her dress.
..."Yeah. This is nice. Thanks Lilah, I appreciate it."
..."You're welcome."
..."No milk or warm up tonight?"
..."You've always been very clean."
...He chuckled. "Thanks."
...And moved a little closer.
..."Kissing okay?"
..."With you? Sure. I like you. You're okay. Generous and considerate and you're a face man! I like that! But a condom is mandatory."
..."Sure. Of course." he said. "You can break out your sex toys. We can both have a happy ending."
...Lilah laughed. 'If only they all were so considerate,' she thought.
...Gableplunk pulled her gently to him and kissed her. She returned his kiss as her fingers flickered through the last button and her hands hovered between them.

...The evening grew late and they tired. The motions of their minds ceased. Street lights blinked off one by one and they retired to a dreamless sleep.

...Gableplunk woke late. Lilah was gone. "Tch," I miss her, he reflected. I'm fond of her, he mused. A small smile then the corners of his mouth dropped and he gazed downwards, losing focus. Wistfully he moped around a bit and ordered breakfast and dressed. The rounds of parties were continuous. Laughter and muffled sounds came from other rooms. He passed people in the corridors. The poker game was still in session. He returned the key to the clerk, left an envelope for Lenny and walked into the sunlight. The brightness hurt his eyes.
...The blacksmith's shop was at the west end of town. The sun glinted on shop windows. Gay colors were displayed; people's clothing were reflections. It was a sunny day and the afternoon breezes hadn't arrived.
...Gableplunk reached the Smith's shop and sat on a crate near the doors. The smith was bending glowing iron around an anvil. Massive muscles flexed across his shoulders as he struck the newly-forming shoe. Sharp clanks were followed quickly by lesser taps.
...He placed the hammer down and lifted the shoe for inspection. Satisfied, he dipped it into water. It Sizzled. Steam rose.
..."Still forging shoes by hand," Gableplunk said.
..."Some still want them. They last longer than the molds."
..."Custom-fit, too."
..."Yes. A good horse needs good shoes."
...The Smith placed the shoe on sand in a box. He turned and motioned with his hand. Gableplunk followed.
...Horse was stalled beside another horse. Gableplunk stroked his head. "Do horses talk?" he asked, and the Smith grinned. "Depends who's asking."
...Gableplunk laughed. He paid the man and opened the stall. Horse moved out. He lifted his head over the next gate.
..."Been busy while I was away," Gableplunk mused. "When the cat's away..." He draped the summer blanket and saddle into place and adjusted the bridle. After mounting, he waited until Horse was ready. Leaning and pressing one knee, Gableplunk turned and nudged lightly with his heel. He stopped near the Smith and asked as to the mare's ownership.
..."One of mine," was his reply. "Thinking of courting?"
...Gableplunk laughed. "Do horses like romantic music?"
...They said goodbye and Gableplunk urged Horse forward. The Smith moved to the furnace.
...It was a fine ride to the ridge. Slow. Quiet save for the passing by of a couple in a two-wheel carriage. They waved as Gableplunk made way. He waved back, catching the words,".....party..... rail..." The stillness of the forest. Gableplunk at peace. A rabbit darted across the trail.
...The ridge was sublime. The couple in the carriage felt it, too. As Gableplunk neared, they moved on. Standing, gazing over the valley to the far ridge and sky, Gableplunk was emptied and serene. Here was home.

...He arrived at the celebration at the old man's during the chess exhibition. Weights had been lifted and lay piled in Max's jeep. A steel bar protruded askew. Gableplunk tied a red cloth to the end.
...He walked about the grounds, tasting the wines, feeling at ease. A wine contest was in session. Gableplunk stood with a crowd watching the judges' faces. In the shade of a makeshift awning, oak casks were stacked and labeled with lettered tags. A list of producers lay hidden in a box to be opened when winners were selected. Gableplunk moved along. There were more guests than last year.
...He stopped at the circle of tables. Some were surrounded by groups of people- 'consultants'. Others were occupied by single players. Max was moving rapidly. Tension filled the air. After two or three minutes, Max completed the circle. He moved a piece and stepped to the next board.
...The sun was hot. Breezes stirred the air. Max seemed calm, his motions smooth. Gableplunk knew the energy flowing through him. Like a piano wire, Max was strung; a fierce seething, the moments men rarely reached, poised, always poised in the interim between thought and action; the hand moved; the mind darted too fast for reflection; Gableplunk could hear strains of a strange violence he never knew was there.
......I've learned much from Max. The chess Master's to be admired, yet his world is alien. It's like music in a way, but music is flowing and mathematical, a release, and chess, too, is flowing and mathematical yet there's no release. A man tied to the game lives life in a haze glistened by darting motions; chess pieces become animated. No release, ever.
...He shook his head and focused his eyes. Had Max moved? He looked to the center. Max was at a near table, his opponent's back to Gableplunk. Max looked up, suspended in the instant before stepping to the next table. Their eyes met and Max winked! Gableplunk stared; his eyes widened; Max moved; the moment was broken. Gableplunk's breath rushed forth, relieved.
...Play continued. Gableplunk found a chair and sat in the shade of a tree with a glass of lemonade.
......Better here than the center ring. The center makes a man worthy, yet the man on the perimeter is no less for living a more diffuse life. I can't compare myself to Max for I'd find myself lacking. I can't compare Max to me or I'd find him lacking. Comparison of that which exists with that which doesn't also precipitates inadequacy. Comparison leads to distinctions, discrimination and a sense of separateness. It's dissonance and we need harmony, yet we also seem to need violence.
...A dog trotted up to Gableplunk and thrust his head between his legs. Gableplunk squeezed the dog's shoulders with his knees and placed his glass near his nose. The dog sniffed and lapped the cool drink. Gableplunk stroked his head.
......I know all this. It's no longer to be sought. Repetitious and vain, my mind's my own trap and I refuse to be bothered by it.
...Gableplunk rose and the dog trotted off, leaving his benefactor smiling at its assumed egolessness.
......Does the dog have Buddha nature?
He laughed.
...A sudden murmur caught his attention. Clapping and voices. Gableplunk walked to to the tables. Max was shaking a man's hand, congratulating him. Although Max's composure remained, Gableplunk caught his eyes again and thought he saw a dying anger. Seemingly unruffled by defeat, Max moved to the next table, intent on the game at hand.
...A photograph was taken of the final position. Gableplunk was surprised. Max had been mated. It was an obvious mate, not a resigned position. Max had played to the bitter end. Gableplunk wondered whether it'd tarnished the victory for the other player.
......At least he didn't sweep the board from the table exclaiming as a past Master, 'Why must I lose to this idiot!'
...A few minutes later, Max autographed the picture and was laughing good-naturedly with the crowd.
...Only a few games remained and these drew to their ends. Each of the players resigned. Galeplunk stood in the crowd around Max's last opponent. The game looked like a draw. Each had two pawns clustered near the King and a mobile queen and rook. For some unexplainable reason, Max erred. As soon as he made the move, his face turned red with rage. He jerked back, then forth, then back again, a puppet dangling grotesquely from tangled wires. His opponent discovered the error only after lengthy examination of the position and made the move to win a Pawn. Max was defeated.
...He resigned and shook hands. He pulled up a chair and sat down. Someone offered him champagne. The crowd dispersed quickly.
...It was growing dark and everyone was inside. Gableplunk sat in the opposite chair and said tactlessly, "You saw your error."
...Max glared. "Damn right I saw my error."
...Gableplunk misinterpreted Max's tone and chuckled. "Two losses this year. You're weakening, Max."
...Max surged forward, "I'll never weaken."
..."What of death?" Gableplunk asked.
..."I'll never die!" He rose to his feet, turned and strode away.
...Gableplunk blinked. He sat at the table until the evening chilled, then walked inside.
...The party flowed through the entire house. In one room guests were dancing to recorded music. In others they were talking and making gestures. Gableplunk overheard a chess conversation in a corner. The kitchen was crowded. Stacked wine casks covered an entire wall. Hors-d'oeuvres and sandwiches were in constant preparation. Three refrigerators were filled with wines and champagnes.
...Gableplunk moved from room to room, enjoying the feel of the party, occasionally stopping to talk to someone he recognized. Across the main room Gableplunk saw Max towering above companions. Max leaned toward a pretty woman who whispered to him. Laughing, they disappeared into another room.
...The guests were a varied group. Some wore suits; others dressed casually. Gableplunk could discern no patterns. He thought there were fewer women than men but couldn't be sure.
...The old man, Julian, greeted him and held his hand. "I'm glad you could come. Perhaps you'll play for us later. There's an excellent guitar near the piano in the next room."
..."Perhaps," Gableplunk replied. "I've never played to a group before. The thought makes me nervous."
...Julian smiled. He excused himself and walked to the door to greet new arrivals.
...Gableplunk walked through the house. He stopped in the arch between rooms and listened to the music. In the kitchen he found food and lemonade.
...He walked upstairs to the coat racks. A dozen coat racks stood near the walls.
......Burly beasts..........friendly ogres in fluorescent lights.
Other clothing, unable to find space on the racks, was strewn about the room.
...Oddly enough, in another room a card game was in session. A man and a woman were playing speed-chess. The players changed constantly around a pool table near the windows. Gableplunk shielded his eyes and gazed into the night. He could see lights and the station house near the rails. The steel bridge glinted in the moonlight.
...He wandered downstairs again and found the room with the piano. He couldn't locate the guitar. A couch was vacated and he sat down.
...Gableplunk knew only a few of the people. Some were wine men and women, owners and others related to the business. Nowhere had he noticed a woman free from a crowd.
...A wine shop owner Gableplunk knew sat to chat for a moment, then was gone. She left a pleasant feeling soon displaced by the verbal antics of a stranger. He talked incessantly. No space was offered for Gableplunk's expression, and soon he grew irritated. Each time he began to answer a question or add a thought, the stranger interrupted and continued his own conversation. Gableplunk wanted to leave but couldn't get in a word to excuse himself. He found himself nodding and making futile gestures, not knowing whether to laugh or feel anger. Instead he grew disgusted. He slouched down on the couch and watched the man talking. Gableplunk's mind grew blank, as did his expression. He draped his arm over the arm rest. His hand touched a guitar case. Without a thought, he pulled it free and opened it. The guitar was tuned. The man's speech halted for a moment, then resumed. Gableplunk fastened a capo on the fifth fret and began to pick a slow rhythmic blues in time to the man's speech. The stranger hesitated and Gableplunk sang

Everybody's busy talkin'
Nobody's busy listenin'
A thousand mouths movin'
But no sound
I know talkin's your device
To assure your existence
But why don't you listen
'n' see what you're missin'
But you're incapable of listenin'
'n' your impotence is showin'
'cause what you're sayin's look at me!
I am the center of the world!
Ah, don't you see you disgust me
With your petty egocentricity?
But sometimes I find you interestin'
As a harlequin's amusin'
'n' see you as a reflection
'n' a reminder t' myself
So I try t' show you how t' listen
By bein' silent an' listenin'
But you mistake it for attention
And intensify!
Ah, you don't even suspect you irritate me
With your egocentricity
'til my patience wears thin
'nd I leave the room

"Everybody's Busy Talking"

...The stranger was stilled. People had gathered. They whistled and cheered and clapped. Gableplunk replaced the guitar in its case and slipped it into its resting place. He stood up and left the room.
...Walking swiftly to the kitchen, he poured champagne and carried it to the veranda. He sat in a rocking chair, sipping the drink and letting it bubble over his palate. He could hear the sounds of the piano blending with recorded music from another room. A couple was sitting in Max's jeep, talking. A light shined in the barn. Gableplunk relaxed. It was a fine night for a party.
...Men's laughter sounded from nearby. They passed by the door. A man peered out and searched the veranda. He walked toward Gableplunk and sat down.
...Julian chuckled.
..."You're a hit. Everyone's laughing. You're the first person to succeed in quieting buttonhole Bob. He preys on newcomers. I didn't see it. I was told that his jaws reached his knees by the time you'd finished playing. Backing up your statement by leaving left the poor man without a word. He won't live long enough to escape this. I'm sure many of his friends will begin to sing to him. Hilarious! The highlight of the evening, though you were a little rough on him. He's a good man and he'll suffer his embarrassment with laughter."
...Gableplunk sighed. "I don't know why I took out my frustrations on him. He was convenient and unaware of the effect he had on me. I expect too much of people. I expect too much of myself. I was pushed beyond my limits by his ill manners and callous lack of awareness. The only thing people seem to respect is force. He was my victim by circumstance. We're all a little like him, a little like each other. Doing violence on him, I do it on myself, and it makes me feel hypocritical and guilty. Anger and violence are transmitted like a disease and I'm a carrier. We're all carriers. It angers me even more that it's not so easy to get rid of it. We must rid ourselves of such misfortunes. Perhaps I ought to steep myself in the art and become inured to it. I'm sure I'd get on in the world much better. No," he continued, "it's too consuming."
... "It's not all that bleak. You embarrassed Robert but didn't humiliate him. He's aware of what he's doing, but verbalization sometimes takes hold of him like some strange demon. He's one of the best salesmen we have. Why didn't you excuse yourself after a few minutes and move away?"
...Gableplunk relaxed a bit. His eyebrows raised and his lips compressed in a slightly ironic expression. "It was the first time I'd met him. I think I was shocked. I didn't know he was a respected man around here. I thought he was a lunatic.
...Julian laughed. "Everyone here gets respect. It's a real community. Come inside. Have some champagne and something to eat. You'll feel better. Play again. There are a number of skilled musicians here tonight. You'd be well received."
..."Thank you for coming to talk," Gableplunk said. "Perhaps I misjudged the seriousness of the situation. Sometimes I'm inclined to a morbid outlook. Actually I didn't judge at all. I didn't think. I reacted. I lost my composure. Perhaps I'm too sensitive or falsely sensitive, wallowing in inappropriate feelings. Thank you for the offer to play again. My last appearance was quite spontaneous. The thought of playing before a group still makes me nervous."
...Julian smiled. "Come inside. I'll see you later."
..."Yes," Gableplunk said. "I'll sit here for a while. See you later."
...The moon was bright and it was a lovely night. Gableplunk rocked back and forth. The champagne formed bubbles in his bloodstream. Under no pressure they danced merrily through his mind. Was it his own giggle he heard? The sounds of the party became imaginative sights, swimming snakes of light on the waters of his mind. People, externalized, internalized and paraded before him. Some he knew- faces from the past. Others were new and all were happy and laughing. Fanciful figures skipped hand in hand and smiling faces swooned in and away, leaving music and the bubbling sounds. One figure was always present. It seemed as if he'd always been there. Gableplunk watched. He came closer. A friendly figure and the bubbling sounds. White, sparkling in the lights of a dream, the night and the immediate sounds of the party.
......I have a visitor. A fine white-haired old man. What are you here for? You want me to follow you. Yes I will. Yes, I will! Isn't that the summation and glory of man? 0h? It's a little more personal. I'm following you. You lead me to a stream and say, 'Jump right in. The water's cold and clear. Don't forget to take off your clothes.' I did and jumped right in, laughing to myself. The old man smiled a fine smile, a toothy grin; he waved to me and sat on a stone to watch as I splashed about like a child.
......The old man and the child. "You've come to watch over me."
......'Yes I have.'
......"It's going to be good to know you. I'll learn many fine things from you."
......'Yes you will, but come out now and dry yourself.'
......"Ah, yes, I'm already learning. Will you be my constant companion?"
......'Oh no, though I'll be here when you need me.'
......"What will you learn from me?"
......'I give and expect no return. I must go now; I'll see you again.'
......"Yes, I'll see you again-" he walked off but I won't miss him; that fine white haired old man's nose touches my own and I look into his eyes and feel myself mirrored, for that fine white-haired old man is me.
......Strange is a wonderful feeling and I'm feeling it more and more often. The champagne makes me feel happy and now I'm invaded by mysterious creatures. Presences in the night evade my efforts to grasp them. It's been happening for a long time. Eons. I've been too preoccupied to notice.
......Sleep my friend, my mind, you're not needed now. It's time for me to begin to meet my destiny. It's time to see things as they really are.
...Gableplunk rose and walked into the house. Lights were blinking, announcing the presence of an unknown. He found Julian and explained that he had a song to sing; would he announce him? Julian agreed and the two made their way to the piano and microphone.
...Gableplunk found the guitar and strapped it over his shoulder. He played quick riffs and his fingers limbered. A sudden knot formed in his stomach. He cast it aside. Slipping a neck stand over his head, he mounted a harmonica and stepped into a small circle cleared near the piano. He began to play. His fingers roamed freely over the fingerboard, playing chords and short melodies. The champagne bubbles roared and Gableplunk soared into a harmonica solo, flight strangely mixed with mystery and earthy direction. Lyrics came and he sang

An apparent contradiction
Is the co-existence
Of immutable stillness
And the eternally transforming self
Eternally in motion
He takes his home with him
For after all
Being and becoming are one
To know the nature of everything
And some that are not
Is to be alone
With no chance of turning back
Sufficient unto himself
Must he constantly choose to be
His silence speaks of wisdom
Beyond the distracting rush
Ever present in all time
Nothing may be hidden
From the knower of the future
The teller of dreams
Piercing eyes penetrate your soul
He knows you
The mysterious initiator
Into the secrets of the self
The augur is the future
Smoldering embers of time
The mysterious initiator leaves no trace
Not a ripple behind

"The Initiator"
("Teller Of Dreams")

...Fading until his hands moved with no sound, he stepped back and bumped into the piano. Someone clapped and others followed.
..."All right!" he heard.
..."Fantastic!"
..."He can play, but what does it mean?"
..."I dunno."
..."Well an augur is a foreteller."
..."Foreteller of what?"
..."Our destinies I think."
..."Yeah! Well, then he must mean our understanding of life."
..."That's good! Maybe it's about kicking off reflective thoughts, too."
..."Uh huh! Yeah. What about....." People were buzzing.
..."Play again!"
..."Do you know any other songs?"
...Gableplunk thanked them and tried to put the instrument down. Some of the people urged him on. He began to feel silly.
...Max appeared with Gableplunk's saddlebags. He unbuckled the fastener and lay out a dozen harmonicas.
..."What are you doing?" Gableplunk whispered.
..."Making you into a star. They love you. You can't disappoint them now."
..."What'll I play? I don't know any popular songs."
..."Do your own. Believe me, initiative and imagination are appreciated around here. Play the songs we played together. I'll back you up."
...Max slid onto the piano bench and uncovered the keyboard. Gableplunk was disheartened. People were leaving.
..."Don't be nervous. Look. Others are coming in. They've heard the word. A star is born..." Max was grinning and playing minor key scales, warming up, clowning.
..."Have you set me up?" Gableplunk asked.
..."Would I do that to you? Come on. Do the one I liked- the one with the complex chords and long piano solo. I'd like a bit of the glory too!"
...Max began to play and Gableplunk had no choice; he played.
...A woman pushed a high stool forward and Gableplunk gratefully sat on it though he disliked sitting when singing.
...He'd stand when he'd recovered from shock.
...They played. Gableplunk's harmonica introduction slipped away, replaced by the piano. Max continued grinning and playing with exaggerated motions. Even Gableplunk had to laugh; nervousness was broken.
...The evening progressed. They played eight or ten songs and a few improvisations. The audience continued changing and the room became crowded.
...Then it was over. Max announced his desire to retire to his pretty woman and Gableplunk agreed. The people in the audience were satisfied.
... Max pulled Gableplunk into a small back room. The guitar case, saddlebags and harmonicas were on a table.
..."I know you want no questions. Follow me. Stars have to run or be torn to pieces by their lusting fans." Laughing, they left the house by a back door.
...Max pulled a bottle of champagne from his belt and thrust it forward. It was cold. He had two glasses.
...Gableplunk popped the cork and poured.
..."Thanks for helping," Gableplunk said.
..."I loved it! Come on. Sit in my car. If we're seen we'll be mobbed and have hair cut from our heads." Laughing again, Gableplunk followed.
...They sat among steel plates and barbells, drinking quietly.
..."I'm going. My lady waits," Max said. "Congratulations." He jumped out and walked quickly away.
......Always a man in motion. It's a good way to be.
...He sat in the seat for a time and re-lived the last hour.
...Some of the guests were leaving. Gableplunk watched as they hitched their horses. Others would stay until the early morning train.
......How long can I stay out?
He walked to the house.
...A man complimented him the moment he entered. Another introduced himself. Gableplunk felt pleased, though he wanted to avoid questions. Fortunately he was asked none and soon felt at ease again.
...Julian found him in the kitchen, drinking coffee.
..."You vanished," he said. "Thank you for entertaining my guests. Many of them enjoyed you."
..."Not all?" Gableplunk asked.
...Julian laughed. "No. Not all. Many. I hope you're not disappointed."
..."A little," Gableplunk replied, "though I'm glad it wasn't unanimous. I'd be out of my head with exultation."
..."For your first performance you did well. I'm surprised."
..."Thank you, and for the introduction."
..."You're welcome. Play anytime."
......Remarkable energy for an older man. I'm exhausted. Home and a soft bed can come none too soon.

...The vineyards south of the valley turned one color. The earth could be seen between the rows of vines. Days were shorter and cooler, chilled by winds from the north. Evenings were dry. The harvests were completed, the pressings done. Vines were wrapped, protected from the frost, blending and chemistry begun; only business remained. Merchandising, transportation, new contacts to be made, old ones renewed. Parties over the countryside were less frequent, more formal. The wine man's work was never done; it only changed its name.
...In this region and many other parts of the world, grapes were the seeds of spirit. Many values were derived from the earth. Men found respect in the union of labor and love and the bounty brought forth. Some seasons were lean, yet there remained the tangible product of better years and this fostered tradition and a sense of belonging. This harvest was lush and men savored the promise of the future and were comforted with the knowledge that this richness would carry them through the lean years. The promise wasn't always fulfilled. The future often bore little resemblance to thoughts and memories of the past. Through anticipation and expectation men created their own illusions and disappointments, not realizing from where they came.
...This illustrates that grapes are better than men, for the life of the vine is an integral part of its surroundings. It's only the rarest of men who may live in accord with the natural flow of events, the ebb and flow of life, birth, growth, flowering, decay and death without recourse to opposition or hostility. The grape changes. Vineyards shift over the years and a man, too, changes. It's only his perceptions that fail him, making him blind to the wonder and beauty of his own life and hostile to the worlds that seem to conflict with his nature. Yet it's also his nature to think, to build, to improve. A man is his own problem and has the potential to find his own solution. Direction lies in simple seeing with the third eye or with the heart. In his cleverness a man overlooks the truth of his existence and suffers for it. Ignorance is maya, illusion, false sight, and these terms came to have greater meaning for Gableplunk.
...Gableplunk often sat and mused at the edge of a sand bank near the river. Meditation is listening to the sound of a heart throbbing and Gableplunk listened to his own. Soon his heart told him that there are other hearts that throb as passionately as his and he began to listen for these, too. At first he heard intermittent beats that were so quiet that he thought his mind was playing tricks. He abandoned his thoughts. Slight sounds became louder, moved to the perimeter of his perceptions, became more distinct, more easily perceived. First one tap, then another, and another until the tiniest presence of a rhythm was heard. Gableplunk neither moved nor sought; then the throbbing came. The heart of the cricket! The throbbing of the rabbit hunted by the fox. The rustle of sand hurled the great distance of a centimeter by tiny creatures struggling in the river bed. Gableplunk gently parted them and they scurried in different directions.
...The flow of the river and the murmur of moving reeds became part. We must kill to live but kill with compassion and when it becomes our turn, surrender and become part of that greater heart.
...Gableplunk began to sing. He sang the song of food, the throbbing heart of continuation, of the flow of the river, of his own birth and the forecast of his own death. He sang of the paradox of two hearts become one, of three hearts become one, of ten thousand become one and the flow became sustenance and Gableplunk was part of the flow and part of the heart that pulsed in so many ways, lending itself to the cricket and the fox and the hare and the man who played and sang near the river, each beat the throb of infinite hearts of trees and insects and bears and minute creatures who lived an entire lifetime in the instant between the striking and the sound, fathomless links in the chain of life eternally moving toward the answer ever-present in the time between the beat and the sound- the man sang

The river washes endlessly
To the shore
Where the sea birds nest
In a continuous cycle
Of birth and death
The timeless flutter
Of a bird's wing
Frozen
In the breath of an instant
Is the sound of the bell
Before it rings
The molecule is carried
Swiftly to sea
By the outgoing tide
Swirling in the eddies
Of smaller universes
Plankton feed whales
And whales feed men
But how can men see
What they believe?
The question is not who am I
But what do I feed

"A Question Of Food"

...Gableplunk no longer lived in the house. During the summer, bed and furnishings had appeared on the second level in the barn. The third was reserved for hay and meditation. The ground level was a workshop. Gableplunk had electricity tapped from the main line. Winter would necessitate a return to the house. The three-tiered barn became home for the warmer months. It was lovely there.
...From the third level, Gableplunk could see beyond the house over the trees to the far side of the valley. The river, so recently a source of strength for newer realizations, revealed itself as pools of sparkling lights, reflections of the sun glinting from its changing surface.
...The second level jutted out to the vertical median of the barn. Structural modifications made it possible to observe each of the tiers from whichever one Gableplunk was standing on. The barn was airy, well-ventilated and easily accessible to the sun through screened openings. He'd added shutters and brightly colored blankets drawn by ropes and pulleys. A wire basket raised hay, food for Horse and comfort in meditation, to the top for storage. A perfectly directed breeze swept fine particles into the air- cascades of gold in shafts of sun to the lower levels. Gableplunk was awakened at mid day by golden showers in the first breezes.
...The summer had been a welcome one. Then rich harvests had been reaped in the autumn. Gableplunk had made friends and was rewarded by greetings in town from merchants and people he'd met at parties. October passed into November and the days grew cool. Gableplunk took woodworking assignments. He framed pictures and built wooden furniture for those who'd pay his moderate prices. He played chess when Max was in the valley and taught Elsa the rudiments of harmonica music: intervals and scales. With each lesson, her playing improved. She often played with her father when she came to the valley or he went to town to be with her. Within weeks she surpassed her teacher and was ready to learn the chromatic harmonica.
..."I can no longer teach you, Elsa," Gableplunk said one afternoon on Max's veranda. "When I play, I also play the guitar. My hands aren't free to manipulate the slide bar on the chromatic. I haven't become as familiar with the instrument as I'd like."
..."Will you learn it and teach me?" Elsa asked.
..."It's time you learned from a more skilled harmonicist. You've talent and a feeling for the instrument. There's a man in town who teaches and is much more accomplished than I am. I've met him and he's a nice person. You'd like him."
..."Oh, I've met him, too. Mister Sanderson. I like him. I like you better. You could learn and teach me. I know you could."
...Gableplunk laughed and said he'd try, "...and Mister Sanderson also teaches voice. Would you like to learn to sing? I'm not here as often as necessary for lessons and I'm sure you'd learn as well with him."
...Max completed his exercises and came out to the porch. "Would you like to take lessons in town, Elsa?" he asked.
...Elsa pouted. "No, but I will if you both will play with me."
..."Of course we will, Elsa," Max said. "Let's talk more about that soon. Will you go inside and bring us a board and pieces?"
...Elsa folded her harmonica into its case and walked to the door. She hesitated, then opened it and went in.
..."I'm leaving in the morning," Gableplunk said.
..."Yes. I see your pack and guitar. You've walked. Elsa does need a new teacher. By coincidence I'm going your way on the morning train. We can travel together."
...Elsa brought the inlaid oak board and Staunton pieces. Max and Gableplunk thanked her. She placed them on a wooden table and returned to the house. Moments later, scales could be heard from the main room. Elsa played a chord and a short melody on the piano. She was experimenting with counterpoint.
...Max moved to the table. He sat in the chair opposite Gableplunk and set up.
..."Let's play. Nine or ten fast games," Max said. "Five minute limit per game. I'd like to speed up my mind for a time. Perhaps one or two games at two minutes. Fast games to flush out blocks of positional memories."
...Gableplunk set up. "Why are you going to the city, Max?"
..."I'm on the verge of entering the banking business. A financier, a fancier, has engaged me for a match. Perhaps I can persuade him to play for certain stocks in his portfolio."
..."How will you do that?"
..."Oh, there are ways." Max grinned. "Appeal to a man's vanity; tempt his ego."
...Gableplunk laughed and shivered vicariously.
...Max, Black, moved immediately after Gableplunk. Their conversation continued. It was difficult for Gableplunk to maintain his attention. Max had no difficulty; he could easily exist on two levels, perhaps unknown numbers of levels. Only his eyes betrayed his attention. They darted like lights on a computer console while he kept up his familiar and pleasant sounding conversation.
..."What rules will you play by?" Gableplunk asked. He moved his Queen Bishop Pawn.
..."The usual tournament rules unless he desires less formality. I play by any rules, preferably non-stop; suspend the fortieth move adjournment. If we draw, play another until a win is acquired. This not only determines who's the better player but also who's the strongest! Most likely, tournament rules will prevail. The modifications I described are too dangerous. The brain becomes gorged and fries in its own high-pressure tumescence."
...Max moved King Knight to Bishop three, a weak sequence. He wanted to try an unusual Queen-side development and hoped to temporarily divert Gableplunk's Queen Bishop.
...Gableplunk struggled with the early possibilities.
..."How'd you do with George the patzer?" Gableplunk asked. He realized Max's intention and allowed himself to be led into his scheme out of curiosity and sound judgment. Max moved quickly.
..."Five games, double or nothing. Eighty thousand. It was embarrassing."
...Gableplunk continued developing. "Why'd you continue?"
...Max moved his King Knight Pawn to Knight three, opening the way to fianchetto his King Bishop.
..."To call it off would've been an insult. Men must learn their own lessons. Few can back down when their minds are at stake."
...Gableplunk sensed potential for unfavorable exchanges in the center and moved his Queen Bishop Pawn directly into Max's Knight Pawn at Knight three. He hoped that Max would accept the exchange.
..."And you?" Gableplunk asked.
..."I like to play." Max gained tempo by refusing the capture and obtained greater strength in the center. King Bishop to Knight two. Gableplunk wouldn't capture, opening Max's Rook file.
..."You knew you were superior. What was to gain?" Gableplunk asked. He sensed the possibility for play in the middle to combat Max's swiftly-developing Queen-side attack. Knight to Bishop three.
..."Nothing," Max replied and castled Kingside.
..."What lost?" Gableplunk asked. Pawn to King four.
...Max laughed. "Also nothing."
..."Then why?"
..."Life. It's how it is."
..."It seems hollow."
...Max looked up and smiled. A breeze ruffled the veranda. The sun shined through the tree tops bathing the yard in a soft golden glow. The brook bubbled nearby. "Or full!" he said.
...Gableplunk's mind raced- "Ah!"- ceased and he found the answer in stillness, quiet centering, "Yes. Full."
...Max moved Queen Knight to Queen two, protecting his Queen from the threat of attack by a White Rook after exchanges. It allowed him to defend both his King Knight and the King four square and eventually freed his King Bishop for the Queen-side onslaught.
...Gableplunk saw the threat. It would weaken his central position. He pulled his Queen Bishop back. His earlier curiosity was satisfied. Both had lost tempo. Max had gained the superior position.
...The jockeying for position continued. Gableplunk castled Kingside. No exchanges had been made. The game was passing into Max's hands. Its subtlety was becoming vague to Gableplunk.
..."Your banner

was hilarious! I saw it from a hotel window in town."
...Pretending to look shrewd, Max replied, "It's good for business."
...Max made the first overtly aggressive move- he pushed his retarded King Pawn to King four, attacking Gableplunk's supporting Queen Pawn. The loss of Gableplunk's Queen Bishop Pawn became inevitable.
...Gableplunk saw the possibility earlier. He thought that he could venture the loss of the Bishop Pawn to obtain superior mobility. Max's fianchettoed Bishop on the long diagonal was a ruse. Central Pawns were exchanged. Two Knights for a Bishop and Knight. Max freed the critical dark square, King four, for occupation by his King Bishop and changed the direction of his attack to King-side, leaving Gableplunk in an awkward position. Max soon captured Gableplunk's King Knight Pawn with the Bishop. Gableplunk counterattacked. Max's combination proved deadly. Within minutes, Gableplunk's castled position was opened to Max's Queen and Bishop on the remaining long diagonal. Rooks exchanged. Max controlled the open King file. With checks, he picked off two Queen-side Pawns. A matter of time. Gableplunk resigned.
..."A good fast game," Max said.
..."I knew your game plan. I thought I knew it."
..."Once I controlled the dark central squares, it was easy to reverse direction.'' Max chuckled. "You played into my hands, defending against my Queen-side foray."
..."I would've seen it if I'd had more time to consider the possibilities."
..."Yes, I believe you would've. The five minute limit. Experience allowed me to fool you. I took these factors into account. It was a good warm up. I'll play more conservatively in the next games if only to sharpen my positional senses. My man in the city's a staunch player. He knows the Queen center game and can play the modern openings as well as anyone I know."
...Gableplunk laughed. "Does anyone ever beat you Max?"
..."Rarely in match games. Chess is the game of individuals. There's no support but your own confidence and self-reliance. The game can change a man. It's wrought changes in you since you first came here."
..."True. Playing with you has bolstered my confidence. You've given me lengthy opportunity and I thank you for it."
...Max usually had words for all situations. This time he smiled. It was a happy smile.
...They set up again. Max chose to keep Black. Five minute limit. The game progressed. Max won, though Gableplunk played the second and following games well. Often they reached forty moves before Max's superiority became evident. They shortened to three minutes then one minute, relying on memory and intuition. The speed was electrifying. Their hands flew to the board, to the clock and hovered over the pieces for fractions of seconds before repeating the process. Eyes moved in blurred motions; bodies remained motionless on the edges of chairs. Only hands flashed in the fading sunlight. Max's ring caught the dying rays and gave them new brilliance, life intensified, flashes within the diamond.
..."Fantastic!" Gableplunk roared as he was mated. He jumped from his chair and did a dance. Max swept the pieces into the box.
..."Come inside. The light's dim and we've played our limit. My mind's been raced and I see you've reached a peak, too." They moved to the door and inside.
...Gableplunk was awed by Max's play. His simplicity and clear style were as brilliant as any of the Master's whose games Gableplunk had replayed from books. Max's opportune Pawn moves had been overwhelming in their originality and precision. It's been said that Pawns are the skeleton of the game. Max's Pawns had meat on their bones.
...A towel flew into Gableplunk's arms. Max was leaving the house by the rear door, a towel over his shoulder. They walked to the stream and jumped in. Max wore his exercise suit from the afternoon's workout. Gableplunk stripped off his clothes.
..."Where's Elsa?" Gableplunk asked.
..."Don't be concerned. Many people've bathed in this stream naked. In Martine's time, Elsa among them. Bodies don't alarm her."
...The stream was cold! Fresh and lively, waist deep. Max disappeared. He surfaced a short distance downstream in a shallow pool. Foam broke over the corner of a boulder and Gableplunk sat in it. Bubbles burst over his shoulders and around him. He propped himself against the stone and relaxed, the icy turbulence became ten thousand needles piercing his skin. The mountain waters retained the summer heat though in weeks one could enter for only a few minutes at a time. Temperature was dropping rapidly throughout the region. In a month, snow would fall.
...Max and Gableplunk dried themselves on the bank, dressed and walked to the house. Elsa was sleeping on the mats in the dark room. A radio played softly nearby.
...They prepared hot coffee and carried bread and cheese to the main room. Each sat with his own thoughts. Gableplunk was at once refreshed and tired. Sweet coffee was delightful.
..."Your sequences of moves, your variations, are improving," Max said. "You're seeing the relationships in greater depth. Your combinations are improving, too. Your use of force is more subtle and comprehensive. You're executing combinations more frequently or threatening them and becoming a more dangerous adversary."
..."Fast games are exciting! I play spontaneously when I'm caught up in the motions. My chess knowledge seems to coordinate and come by itself."
..."Your third game was ingenious," Max said. "The trap you set was sufficiently vague to appear as a routine move. It was instinct that led me to re-examine your move and take the proper steps to evade it. At a five minute time limit, setting traps, original ones, requires a quick mind."
..."At that moment I thought that I had you," Gableplunk said.
..."Chess is a game of the unseen. It's what doesn't happen that often determines the outcome of the game. The avoidance of pitfalls is as much a part as strong play." Max lapsed into thought.
... "Your planning, your strategy," he continued, "seems to be derived from a deeper comprehension of the nature of position and the forces involved. Creatively structured plans are lending strength and scope to your game. To further improve, remember, power lies in tapping hidden potential. Each piece must be a harmonic of every other piece. An isolated piece will never develop its greatest potential. Working together, pieces compound their influence and extend themselves beyond their individual limits."
..."Chess resembles life," Gableplunk said. "We may see ourselves on the board."
..."It offers an opportunity for self-reflection," Max replied, "but only meager resemblance to life. In chess, White moves first, followed in turn by Black. In life, Black and White may move simultaneously."
..."What's simultaneity?" Gableplunk asked. "Is thought part of the action?"
..."Are you thinking when I'm moving?"
..."Sometimes. Not always."
..."Chess is merely an egotistical game." Reflectively, he added, "Or maybe it's art wherein the players are both the artists and the beholders of the art."
..."Ah! I've a thought!" Gableplunk said. "Let me tell you a story."
..."Yes, do," Max said. "Try to defend the Chess-is-life feeling and I'll show you your isolated self."
..."No, no. It's little to do with that. I agree with your explanation. Chess may be a brilliant part of life. It's only a part. Here's the story. The format's a familiar one in Eastern lore. My thought fits the form so well that I'll use it and substitute my own impressions in place of the usual ones."
..."Gableplunk was the name of a sandal maker. He made geta, footgear made of wood, as well as alms and gruel bowls for the monks at the Semmon or Monastery. In return for his services he was given a one-room thatched hut near the edge of the forest away from the Zendo, the monk's living quarters.
..."One day at koza, a lecture or discourse, Roshi announced a poetry contest. All the monks were to submit a poem to the Master, illustrating their degree of understanding of selfless awareness. Three days were allotted. Roshi would read the poems and announce his choice of the one he liked best at the next koza.
..."Excitement ran through the Semmon. Although usually frowned upon, intense discussions were held while working in the fields and after the hours of zazen or meditation. Some of the monks were irritated by the sounds of lute music from the geta maker's hut. Some disliked the sandal maker. Although he made good sandals and bowls, he never took part in zazen or sanzen, individual interviews with Roshi in his zempanryo, or private quarters. They chided him for not meditating when they did and said his music hampered their concentration. The lute player moved farther away. This made his music softer and sweeter and the monks complained that his playing now lulled them from their task.
..."On the day of the Master's announcement, it became unbearable to the monks who couldn't blend his music with the sounds of the night. A group of monks asked him to stop playing for the three days prior to submitting their poems.
..."In return, the sandal maker chided them. 'You say I hamper your concentration while you're meditating,' he said to the monks. 'When you know you're meditating you're not meditating. Go away.'
..."The monks believed him to be an idiot and they left, thinking how much harder he made their tasks.
..."Sitting near the river on his tatami, a three by six-foot straw mat, the sandal maker laughed to himself. He realized that not all the monks felt this way. Secretly he enjoyed irritating those who did, though he exerted no special effort. He worked during the same hours as they, ate and recited the verses of the meals at the same time each day. He was a sandal maker and provided service for the Semmon, leaving him only the hours of meditation to be alone and play the music he loved. Monks chose to meditate; he chose to play. He could see no difference.
..."The three days passed and the monks were pleased. Music no longer came from the forest. At the appointed time, more than a hundred poems were submitted to the Jikijitsu, the head monk, to be delivered to Roshi for his consideration. All sanzen was suspended for the rest of the week. Although the monks still sat in meditation in the Zendo, each had extra time to do as he wished. Some sat in wasteful discussions while others increased their hours of meditation. Music floated from the forest.
..."The day arrived. All the monks gathered in rows in the Buddha Hall. Roshi would soon make his appearance. He was a stern Master and the room was very quiet. They waited.
..."The venerable teacher entered. He stood in front of the monks and looked out at their faces. Some were expectant, some placid; some used their time well to meditate. The Master was pleased with the ones who were serene and had twinkles in their eyes.
..."He unfolded a sheet of paper and read the first lines of a poem. 'Who has written this poem?' he asked.
..."No one answered. He read the lines again and repeated the question. Again no one answered. Silence filled the Hall.
..."A monk near the doors stood and ran out. Moments later he brought the geta-maker. Roshi gazed at the man who wore no robes and didn't shave his head. A musical instrument hung from leather straps on his shoulder. The Master read the lines again and asked, 'Who has written this poem?'
..."The sandal maker walked forward. He reached the Master and performed the perfunctory bows.
..."'Have you written this poem, sandal maker?'
..."'Yes. It's not a poem. It's a song.'
..."'Then sing it.'

"The Dancing Master"
("Wondrous Spectacle")

...Gableplunk unstrapped his guitar.
..."There's No-Zen,"* Max said.
..."You mean No-Mind. "**
..."Yes I mean no."
...Gableplunk bowed a few times; Max crossed himself; Gableplunk pounded his heart three times; "Check," Max said; "Black to move and win," Gableplunk said; Max considered his religious position and all the knowledge at his command... "I resign."

*Zazen (Jap.): to sit in meditation; Zen is the abbreviation.
** No-Mind: no self; selflessness; egolessness; selfless awareness or awareness without egotistical relationship; the Void.

...Gableplunk laughed. "Did you like my story?"
..."The mind seeking itself," Max replied. "No doubt, many of the monks' poems were filled with mirror images. It's only the disappearance of these vain objects that saves the sandal maker from mediocrity." Max was smiling and he laughed. "I don't mean to demean your song. A Zen man wouldn't have submitted it. The Master was playing tricks on his monks. He would've been happier had there been one fewer poems than monks. Instead he found one more!" Even Gableplunk had to laugh.
..."The sandal maker wasn't a monk," Gableplunk said.
..."Ah! Yes. True. Did he submit his song to irritate?"
...Gableplunk laughed and placed his guitar into its hard case.
...Max rose from his armchair and walked to the piano.
..."Speaking of songs and poems, I've written a song and I'd like to play it." He sat on the bench, played an introductory theme and sang

"Max's Song"

...Max looked up. "What do you think of it?"
..."Choppy in places. Sentimental. I like it! A little polish, smoothing out, and it'll be a lovely song. Where'd you find the feelings for it?"
...Max was pleased.
..."From childhood memories. I was a lonely boy, traveled a great deal and found solace only in chess. Once or twice I had pets, but they died. The only animal who stayed long enough for me to learn to know it was an old alley cat who foraged for food on roof tops. He was wary and always stayed out of reach. I sat in the window and watched that cat for hours. Lately I've been inundated by childhood memories and dreams. No," Max held up his hand to halt Gableplunk's question. "I've done my own analysis and come to my own conclusions."
..."Will you tell me?"
..."No. Come. We must be off. I'll wake Elsa. Will you carry those suitcases to the jeep? We'll meet you in a moment."
...Chuckling good-naturedly, Gableplunk shouldered his pack and guitar. He lifted two leather suitcases, moved to the rear door and out. The evening was cool, not cold, clear. After arranging the cases and pack in the rear of the jeep, he waited.
...Lights flickered out and Max and Elsa appeared. It was a fine night. Stars were bright and the moon was waning.
...Elsa jumped into the back and sat cross-legged on blankets. Gableplunk slid into the front seat. The car was open, the top in the shed. Max turned over the engine.
...The road paralleled the river until it neared the wooden bridge. Branches swept the jeep's windshield. They took the long route, west. The moon shimmered in the southern sky, silver on the river.
...Max pointed to the north ridge. Dim lights twinkled in the distance.
..."Do you see the lights?" Max asked. "They're from SKYLA, a gestating artist's colony. Peter and Racine purchased the ridge-top house. It was used by mine owners decades ago when the valley was the center of local industry. They're going to invite other artists and craftsmen to form a mutual interest community. Visit them. Be prepared. The prevailing wind is turpentine."
...The road turned north beyond the bridge and entered the deep forest. Trees absorbed the moonlight and Max had to turn on the headlamps. Twin shafts of light flowed into the night. The jeep was well-muffled, yet crickets sensed the whine of the engine and their ringing hushed. Max, Gableplunk and Elsa slipped through the forest in a moving pocket of silence.
...They turned east then north again on the ridge road and followed its tortuous path towards the top. At the ridge the moon and river appeared between trees and Max stopped.
..."A last look," he said. "The world won't be the same when you return. Snow'll fall and the valley'll be white. There're snowshoes at the old train station."
...Gableplunk looked forward to the winter weeks that he'd live in the valley. Snow drifts would reach the eaves of the house and the river's edge would crystallize. The valley would be shrouded in a wonderful silence. Wrapped in blankets, Gableplunk would rock on the veranda and gaze into the falling snow. Perhaps he'd catch a glimpse of the river as the wind waned and the fresh snowfall settled.
...Elsa was sleeping quietly. Max eased the jeep toward town. Rising up, the road passed over the ridge and turned down. The valley settled gently into memory.
...They reached the back streets and Max drove quietly north, crossed the main streets and turned east, away from the center of town. The streets were newly-paved; the houses farther apart. Max turned into a tree-lined drive and stopped before an old, well kept three-story house. Lights shined from the interior.
...Max woke Elsa. Gableplunk looked around. The next house was sixty meters away. A wind swept in from the northeast and the trees were swaying. Fallen leaves swirled in the air. Max stepped up to the porch and the door opened. Elsa ran to the woman, "Aunt Kristi!"
...She laughed and swept Elsa into her arms. Max beckoned and Gableplunk stepped up and inside. Max stooped to enter and shut the door behind them.
...Elsa was sitting on a couch. Max crossed the room towards her.
..."You must be the little man with the big mind," Kristin said. Her eyes gazed into Gableplunk's as his expression changed.
..."Not so little," he said.
...She laughed. "I like a man who can subtly maintain his balance. Max has spoken of you."
...Max returned with Elsa in his arms and introduced them.
..."You'd do well to know each other," Max said. "You're temperamentally and astrologically compatible. You'll see. Talk. I must sleep. Good night." He turned and carried Elsa upstairs and across a balcony.
...Kristin took Gableplunk's arm and led him down the steps into the main room. A fire was burning. Fresh wood was stacked in a corner. A large room with a high ceiling and shiny oak floor. Couches and chairs were arranged at the perimeter and back to back at the sides of two grand pianos near the windows.
..."You play!"
..."Yes," Kristin answered. "It'll have to be another time. Max needs rest. Tomorrow he infiltrates a board of directors."
...Gableplunk laughed. "I didn't know Max was interested in Astrology."
..."Max is interested in anything he can engulf with his mind. He would've been a dilettante were it not for his aspirations toward fortune and glory. He has many skills..." Kristin paused and looked to the pianos, "and I love him in spite of them."
..."Would you like a drink," Kristin asked, "or something else?"
..."Cheese and wine?"
..."Yes;" she turned and left the room. Gableplunk sat on the couch facing the fireplace. He felt comfortable. The fire was small- a few large chips; the hearth large enough for heat in winter.
...Kristin returned with cheese, bread, wine and two glasses. "It's a good wine- nine or ten years old from Max's Crimson vineyard."
..."Max has a vineyard?"
..."He doesn't own it completely, yet...hasn't he told you about his vineyard holdings? Max has interests other than chess, though I believe he's accrued many of them through the game. I'm eternally incredulous to hear of the stakes men will play for. Encourage Max to tell you stories. He confides in few people. He'd do well to open up more. Enough of Max. What of you? You write songs and play the guitar. We'll get together one day and play."
..."What interests you?" Gableplunk asked.
..."I manage a group of boutiques here and in surrounding communities. I also buy for them. It requires traveling. I design for the business: leather work and the more durable items. In town we sell pottery, too. Have you ever tasted a really fine Mexican clay? No; your tastes are more cerebral. We cater to farmers and students as well as local jet-setters. The stores are prosperous. We have a branch in the city."
...Gableplunk was smiling. Kristin was enthusiastic.
..."I'd like to play with you someday," Gableplunk said. "When did you learn to play?"
..."Max and I had the same teacher. He's a better player. I can sing. You write. Do you have your songs with you?"
...Gableplunk opened his pack. He took his lead sheets out and handed them to Kristin.
...Kristin scanned through, reading the lyrics. She hummed the melody of one and listened to the changes in her mind.
..."Unusual. Funny. Lovely. I like this one and this very much. Some of them require deep thought. I'd like to read them as poems."
..."Yes. Many of them are poems. Keep these. I'll send you copies in verse form. Perhaps you'll offer criticisms when I return. Few people have seen my work. I'd appreciate your opinions."
...They talked for hours. The first wine bottle was replaced. Fresh wood was stacked in the fire as the night grew colder. Midnight passed quickly into the morning hours.......... an hour 'til dawn.
...Max appeared.
..."Don't wake the roosters!" He laughed and walked to the kitchen.
..."Breakfast!" Kristin said. "I didn't realize it was so late. Your train leaves in an hour."
...Gableplunk stood and Kristin took his hand. She led him to the kitchen. Max was frying eggs.
..."Sit down," Max said; "I'll cook. Don't let breakfast interrupt."
...Kristin laughed and motioned to the table.
...Breakfast passed quickly; conversation was light. Coffee and hurried good-byes.
...It was a twenty minute walk to the train. Gableplunk carried his pack; Max two suitcases. Lights snapped on in houses they passed. Gableplunk walked quickly in the first rays of sunlight.
..."Kristin's amazing!" Gableplunk said.
...Max chuckled. "You like her."
..."Yes. She's like an eagle."
..."Above it all," Max asked, "or on top of things?"
..."Both," Gableplunk said. "She has a sharp mind, accurate perceptions and a willingness to challenge, yet she's mysterious, shifting, like light in translucence, lovely in a moment of stillness, impossible to clarify."
..."Yes. She's quite a woman and you're quite a romantic!"
...The train pulled in as they reached the station. They boarded and found seats in the third car. Gableplunk sat near the window.
...The train eased away. Wire fences and warehouses were replaced by moving landscapes. The sun had risen and the morning was warming. Dew glistened. Rainbows dotted the countryside.
...Gableplunk dozed, sometimes awakening to see Max studying his pocket chess set. At other times, Max sat straight, staring into space. They were in the middle of the car and shared it with two other passengers.
...Someone was shaking Gableplunk's shoulder. He woke. Artificial lights shined through the window. Endless platforms shrank into blackness. People came into view. The train slowed and stopped. Fluorescent lights shimmered, shining indirectly on the crowded platforms. Gableplunk realized he'd missed the lovely countryside. He pulled his pack from the overhead rack and followed Max into the crowd.
...Moving stairways transported them up levels to the local platforms. Ticket booths and magazine stands were busy. Coffee shops were crowded. They walked slowly to the hub of the station.
..."I'm playing early this afternoon," Max said.
..."Have you seen the location?"
..."We'll play on neutral ground in a private room at a chess club. It's familiar to me."
..."What are your chances?"
..."I've lost the first game to more experienced players," Max replied; "never beyond that. The pressure's incredible. Men crumble in small ways until their attention's diffused and they're unable to concentrate. There's fearful time-pressure. I'd invite you but I can't afford distractions."
..."You can use my apartment to rest and refresh during the match," Gableplunk said.
..."Thanks. I've my own downtown. I'll need solitude. I'll be exhausted and mindless for days. I'd be poor company."
...They stopped.
..."These are my elegant clothes, " Max said and chuckled. Gableplunk laughed.
..."Good-bye my friend," Max said. He offered his hand and Gableplunk took it. "You go to rest and compose; I go to war!"
...He turned and strode away. Gableplunk watched his friend, glanced at the clock and back; Max was gone.