Op: Marraketh
"Remembrance"

"Decades gliding by like Indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined"
		--Paul Simon, "Rene and Georgette Magritte" [1]

	It was the monthly meeting of the members of the MRFG in 
the third dimension. They had been holding this meeting for 
twenty years, and for twenty years, there had not been good news. 
Each month, the meeting broke up with the memory of a land that 
to which they could not return. They felt out of place on Earth, 
hiding among the humans, but they had no choice. Staying in their 
own dimension would have brought the beast to the lands in which 
they hid... in fact, he had come here, but Mikje wondered if it 
was really them the Master was seeking.
	Over the years, the monthly meeting had become a meeting 
of bitterness. It looked as if they were never going back, that 
they would be forced to live out the lives they'd built here--
strangers in a strange land, always wondering if they could 
trust.
	Mikje looked around the banquet room that he had rented 
for the meeting and had ordered the staff to stay out while their 
meeting was in progress. If someone had overheard the 
conversation, they would be rather shocked to hear people 
speaking a language that had never been heard on Earth before 
their arrival.
	There was about twenty of them. Most of them were Guard 
memebers, but a few were members of the Marrakethian higher 
classes that had managed to escape. And then there was Grahm 
Valkurk.
	Grahm was a strange fellow. Although he was a Guard 
member (and one of Mikje's command staff), the things he knew and 
understood were often beyond Mikje. When he had first arrived in 
Rhye, he came to Mikje asking for membership in the fabled 
Guards. When Mikje asked him where he came from, Grahm replied, 
"Dewpoint."
	That had startled Mikje. "Dewpoint? But Dewpoint was 
drowned a long time ago."
	Grahm had nodded. "I am from a group which holds that the 
code is immoral to the Man Across the Sea. I have come here to 
act as the eyes of my people in the charlaten city. Marraketh can 
be saved, sir. But it is only by eliminating the Code that we 
will begin to gain our greatness. What Chi-Lin is to technology, 
we can be to magic. That is what the Ancients and the Man Across 
the Sea wished. It was not until the merger... and the code... 
that Marraketh was ruined. Marken Yuvall was right in many ways."
	Mikje had paced his small office. "But Marken... young 
man, you do realize I knew Marken?"
	"Yes sir, he had the right idea, but we do not need to 
destroy Marraketh in order to rebuild. And if that cannot be 
done... I will give up my ways and submit. But someday Kyrill 
will be back, and we will rebuild her empire."
	Mikje had taken on the spunky young man in the Guards and 
learned more about what he stood for. And Grahm had been a highly 
valuable member of the Guards, rising quickly through the ranks 
to become one of the four people Mikje trusted the most--his 
officer command staff. Thalin, Tyrene, and Remmick had been the 
only other people in that group. Of course, Tyrene had submitted 
to the Master, and Remmick was still in Marraketh, coordinating 
the underground. That left an incredibly pessimistic Thalin and 
mysterious Grahm with him. And tonight, he would have to make the 
toughest decision of his life.
	Would he go home and face the Master that drove him away 
so many years ago?

	The dungeon was dark as Katze lay on her cot and stared 
at the ceiling. There was not much else to do, Remmick was great 
at letting her get away with stuff that normal prisoners would 
never get away with, but Remmick could not be here 24/7 (or 
whatever the Marraketh time equivalent was, she couldn't tell). 
So when the other guard came on duty, she usually retired to 
things that were quiet that she could do in the dark. It usually 
led to thinking.
	She had been here four days. In those four days, the 
only hope of a rescue party had been Mal, and he was doing such a 
damned good job of playing Lyran that Katze wasn't sure if he was 
still on her side. But then again, with Mal it could often be 
hard to tell. At least he was here and there was some hope... but 
what was taking them so long?
	She'd been drug in front of Siddy boy a couple of times. 
Each encounter went the same, he'd offer her the world if she'd 
just side with the Master. When she refused, he resorted to 
begging and pleading and threatening her, and each time she refused 
to make the deal. She could not go through with it and live up to 
her conscience. But maybe it was the wrong thing, maybe she 
should have just given up. Nothing made any sense anymore, coming 
home just created more problems than it solved. She felt so out 
of place even within herself.
	It wouldn't be long now before Sid tried to convert her. 
Let him. About this point, she didn't really care anymore. 
Everything was all muddled up. Hell, she didn't even know who 
she was, as it seemed every day she lost a bit more ground to 
some force inside. And Katze couldn't tell if that force was 
malevolent or benevolent. She guessed she probably wouldn't 
know until it had won.
	She turned over on her cot. She just could not get 
comfortable, there was way too much to think about. She pondered 
a couple of ideas of how to escape, but there was too many risks. 
She couldn't fight her way out, even if she'd wanted to, she'd be 
dead if she tried to kill the spongie guard.  Either that or down 
for the count. Not worth it.
	She burrowed deeper into her cot, and reached out to the 
world around her. She could feel the guard at the edge of her 
conscious, but otherwise, nothing but static. There had been 
nothing but static since the beginning, but especially now, it 
brought tears to her eyes. Why was she brought back to Marraketh? 
Why?
	To keep her mind off such unpleasant subjects, she 
thought of Berkeley. But that subject brought pain as well, as 
that traitor had lived with her and caused all this grief. She 
tried not to think of him, but it was hard not to. He was so much 
a part of her life... and for so long.
	Tears slid down her cheeks as she wished desperately to 
be back in Berkeley and to never have heard of any place such as 
Marraketh. Ever.
	She rolled over in her cot, and tried to sleep.

	In another part of the castle, a man was going through 
the routines of getting ready for bed. First, one pulls the 
covers down, then one gets in his nightclothes, then one sees a 
ghost.
	Wait a second. A ghost? This wasn't right, it was not the 
way it had been done every time before. The man was more puzzled 
than anything, it hadn't occurred to him to be scared of a ghost. 
And somewhere, way back in the threads of memory, he had seen 
this ghost before. Then again, the Master did say that he'd 
always been the protector of Marraketh, and that he couldn't 
trust that dim time that he seemed to remember when Marraketh 
didn't need a protector.
	[The Master lies.]
	The man spun around.  The ghost was looking at him.  It 
had seemed almost as if the ghost had spoken. No, not spoken, 
but projected the words right into his head. He looked at the 
ghost in fear. "Who are you?"
	The ghost shimmered, as any ghost would. [I am the ghost 
of your past. The one that you keep denying.]
	"There was no past before the Master," the man said, 
bewildered at this turn of events.
	[The Master lies. He lied to you, he lied to the 
children. Do you not remember the children in the square?]
	"No. The Master has always been kind to children. He 
loves the children."
	[Then why did you hide your own child from him?]
	"I did no such thing!"
	[Then tell me why the prisoner caused you to twinge?]
	"I...I had a false memory. The Master is trying to help 
me not have that problem anymore."
	The ghost nodded. [And that is why you would deny 
everything. Who are you? Who are you really?]
	The man grew ever more confused. "My name is Tyrene. 
Tyrene Katze, of Rhye."
	[You are not Tyrene.]
	"What do you mean?"
	[Exactly what I say. You are not Tyrene, you are just a 
shell that uses that name.]
	"I don't understand."
	[Your "false" memories are not false at all. They just 
contradict the Master's "truth."]
	Tyrene sat down on the bed, holding his head in his hands 
and whimpering.

	Mikje looked around the banquet hall. "Fellow citizens of 
Marraketh, I have news. The reports from the Marrakethian 
underground are positive. The Master has still not returned and 
Sid is still in charge of the country. And there is another force 
in Marraketh at this very moment that will destabilize Sid's 
government enough that the liberation of Marraketh will work. We 
attack tonight."
	There was the sudden silence, and then the room exploded 
into a cheer. They were going home.
	As soon as the room had calmed down, Thalin Shalinkurk 
stood up. "Captain Mrythen, I have a question. Is the sea really 
down?  Or is it just waiting to drown us the second we arrive?"
	The room grew silent at the question. Everybody 
understood what Thalin was driving at.
	Mikje looked at Thalin. "Three months ago, you were 
urging me to attack, in what would have been a precipitous move. 
It would have killed us all. What are you, Thalin, a turncoat 
whom would rather help the Master (may the Man Across the Sea 
spit on his bones) than your own countrymen?"
	"No, Mikje, I am just looking out for your own good. Our 
own good. It is not time. What makes you think this "other force" 
is going to cause enough destablization?"
	"Because this other force has gone to rescue a friend who 
was kidnapped by Sid. A friend who doesn't realize what strength 
she has. My friends, fellow Marrakethians, imagine a Marrakethian 
who wasn't raised under the code... and in fact, has never seen 
Marraketh. Such a person exists. I know that all of you remember 
Tyrene Katze... he did the bravest thing of us all, placing a 
child out of the reach of the Master--even though it meant his 
own destruction. That is sacrifice. And it is this child whom, 
twenty years later, is the reason we can go home. Do you doubt me 
now, Thalin?"
	"I do not think one person can make such a difference."
	"I do. It has happened many times in the history of 
Marraketh." Mikje glanced at Grahm, and winked. Grahm began 
whispering words under his breath.
	Thalin stood. "I charge the Captian of the MRFG with 
treason!  He is going to kill us all. I also charge him with 
association with Marken Yuvall, who would have destroyed the code 
which saved Marraketh from destroying itself!"
	One of the other Marrakethians at the banquet table 
looked at Mikje. "These are indeed serious accusations, Mikje. Do 
you have an answer to them?"
	Mikje nodded. "My rebuttal will occur in a second, 
Nyetin."
	Grahm finished his muttering and nodded. Mikje waited.
	Slowly, a glow began to come up around the people seated 
at the table. All of the glows except one were a green much like 
the grass in Marraketh. The one exception was a sickly looking 
purple, and the man whom was encased in it widened his eyes.
	Mikje said quietly. "I think we know who is the 
treasonous one here."
	The glows faded, but everybody at the table continued to 
stare at Thalin Shalinkurk. Suddenly, Thalin bolted from the 
table and through the banquet room doors.
	"After him!  Don't let him get away!" rose the cries from 
the banquet room. Quickly, the room cleared out, with the 
exception of Mikje and Grahm. "Thank you," Mikje said. "I knew 
somebody was a traitor, but I couldn't figure out how to tell. 
Now it looks like we'll be off to Marraketh in the morning."
	Grahm nodded. "Yes. We should be able to do it."
	"And, do you know what they called Tyrene's daughter in 
this dimension?"
	"Mikje... yes, I do. And I think it's gonna be one heck 
of a surprise."
	"Well, aren't you going to tell me?"
	Grahm smiled. "She's a student at the university. And she 
took linguistics this semester. Your class. And got an A."
	Mikje ran down the list of people in his class. Suddenly 
the right name struck him. "Yack, the answer to the puzzle was 
sitting in linguistics the whole time."
	Grahm nodded. "Well, we have a Marraketh to liberate." He 
stood up. "Shall we?"
	Mikje nodded. "Here goes nothing."

	Katze glanced around the darkness of the prison ward. It 
was too dark now to see anything, and all she could hear was the 
light sleeping sounds of the guard at the door. Solitude was 
starting to wear her.
	Things spun in the darkness, pieces of light, and Katze 
began to think she was going crazy.  The guard slept on.
	The world started to lean crazily to one side, making 
Katze wonder if she had gone insane. [If I haven't gone insane 
already,] she thought.
	She looked out into the darkness. "Who are you?" she 
called, but got no answer. The guard continued to sleep, making 
Katze really wonder what the hell was going on. Had they come to 
rescue her already? Had somebody poisoned the guard?
	The speckles of light began to form distinct shapes. 
Finally, three men dressed much like monks and a lady in royal 
splendor formed their shapes in front of her. Katze sat bolt 
upright in bed, wondering who these people were. She started to 
form a question, but found her lips sewn shut. [Think it, child,] 
came a masculine voice. [You are a Marrakethian. Accept it and 
begin to put your life together again.]
	The voice seemed to come from one of the monks. Katze 
frowned.  [Who... are you?] she asked, trying to grasp this idea 
of talking with phantoms.
	The second monk nodded. [I am Hyuke. That man *pointing 
at First monk* is Yrulin, and the silent one is Grem. I will let 
the lady introduce herself.]
	The lady acknowledged Hyuke's words with a nod. [I am one 
of the Hrdeks.]
	Yrulin spoke. [My lady, you must not be modest, or else 
Marraketh will be lost.  Child, this is Kyrill.]
	Katze gaped. [...]
	The lady smiled.  [I take it you recognized the name. But 
Yrulin, Hyuke, and Grem all have an important place in Marraketh 
history as well. But it is no matter right now.]
	Hyuke nodded, or what passes as the mentalic equivalent 
of a nod. [Yes.  We are here to warn you in advance of the 
future. It will be a future which will be very short and 
unpleasant unless you remember.]
	Katze was baffled. [Remember what?]
	Yrulin shook his head. [We can't tell you what you are to 
remember. But, just remember, you are a Marrakethian. And a 
nice Marrakethian surname is Katze. Your surname. You figure it 
out.]
	Katze blinked. [But I don't know.]
	Kyrill's voice came through clearly. [You will, child. I 
was once the head of the D'wani race, which owes our survival to 
the Man Across the Sea. Those three are part of what the modern 
day Marrakethians refer to as "the Ancients". Neither of us is 
pleased with what happened to Marraketh after our two countries 
were merged together. But there is an opportunity to change it. 
But it takes somebody who's brave. You are it, be proud.]
	Katze straightened up slightly. [Okay. I will do it. When 
the time comes.]
	Kyrill nodded. [When the time comes. Good luck, child.]
	The three figures faded into the walls, leaving Katze 
alone with her thoughts...and a purpose. The next time Siddy boy 
came along, he was gonna get hit with the shock of his life.

	Tyrene looked up, in the hopes that the ghost had gone 
away. But the ghost was still standing there, tormenting him. "Go 
away!" he screamed, and hurled a glass at the ghost. It went 
right through the ghost and hit the wall on the other side of the 
room.
	He buried his face in the bed. "Why are you doing this to 
me? Why?"
	[Because both you and I know the truth, Tyrene. You just 
refuse to remember it.]
	Tyrene buried his face in the bed even further. There was 
something fighting within himself that he could not understand. 
Suddenly, he remembered a jail cell. He remembered the other 
figure. He looked up from the bed. "You're me, and I'm you."
	The ghost nodded. [You have been in captivity by the 
Master, doing I know not what. I have been watching your 
daughter, to make sure she returns to this place. She is here.]
	"The prisoner?"
	[Yes.]
	"I... I... I don't know what to say."
	[There is not much you have to say. Let us just say the 
gods have taken a special interest. Play Master's crony tomorrow 
until I return. This will all be resolved... tomorrow.]

To be continued in "Transformation"

[1] The full title of the song is "Rene and Georgette Magritte With 
Their Dog After the War", but most Simon fans usually just call it 
"Rene and Georgette Magritte" or even more simply, "Magritte"