Madeleine L'Engle - Wrinkle in Time

‘Artificial lights,’ the beast sighed. ‘How very complicated life on your planet must be. Later on you must try to explain some more to me.’

‘All right,’ Meg promised, and yet she knew that to try to explain anything that could be seen with the eyes would be impossible, because the beasts in some way saw, knew, understood, far more completely than she, or her parents, or Calvin, or even Charles Wallace.

‘Charles Wallace!’ she cried. ‘What are they doing about Charles Wallace? We don’t know what IT is doing to him or making him do. Please, oh, please, help us!’

‘Yes, yes, little one, of course we will help you. A meeting is in session at this moment to study what is best to do. We have never before been able to talk to anyone who has managed to escape from a dark planet, so although your father is blaming himself for everything that has happened, we feel that he must be quite an extraordinary person to get out of Camazotz with you at all. But the little boy, and I understand that he is a very special, a very important little boy — ah, my child, you must accept that this will not be easy. To go back through the Black Thing, back to Camazotz — I don’t know. I don’t know.’

‘But father left him!’ Meg said. ‘He’s got to bring him back! He can’t just abandon Charles Wallace!’

The beast’s communication suddenly became crisp. ‘Nobody said anything about abandoning anybody. That is not our way. But we know that just because we want something does not mean that we will get what we want, and we still do not know what to do. And we cannot allow you, in your present state, to do anything that would jeopardize us all. I can see that you wish your father to go rushing back to Camazotz, and you could probably make him do this, and then where would we be? No. No. You must wait until you are more calm. Now, my darling, here is a robe for you to keep warm and comfortable.’ Meg felt herself being lifted again, and a soft, light garment was slipped about her. ‘Don’t worry about your little brother.’ The tentacles’ musical words were soft against her. ‘We would never leave him behind the shadow. But for now you must relax, you must be happy, you must get well.’

The gentle words, the feeling that this beast would be able to love her no matter what she said or did, lapped Meg in warmth and peace.

‘It is so long since my own small ones were grown and gone,’ the beast said. ‘You are so tiny and vulnerable. Now I will feed you. You must eat slowly and quietly. I know that you are half starved, that you have been without food far too long, but you must not rush things or you will not get well.’

Something completely and indescribably delicious was put to Meg’s lips, and she swallowed gratefully. With each swallow she felt strength returning to her body, and she realized that she had had nothing to eat since the horrible fake turkey dinner on Camazotz which she had barely tasted. How long ago was her mother’s stew? Time no longer had any meaning.

‘How long does night last here?’ she murmured sleepily. ‘It will be day again, won’t it?’

‘Hush,’ the beast said. ‘Eat, small one. During the coolness, which is now, we sleep. And, when you waken, there will be warmth again and many things to do. You must eat now, and sleep, and I will stay with you.’

‘What should I call you, please?’ Meg asked.

‘Well, now. First, try not to say any words for just a moment. Think within your own mind. Think of all the things you call people, different kinds of people.’

While Meg thought, the beast murmured to her gently. ‘No, mother is a special, a one-name; and a father you have here. Not just friend, nor teacher, nor brother, nor sister. What is acquaintance ? What a funny, hard word. Aunt. Maybe. Yes, perhaps that will do. And you think of such odd words about me. Thing, and monster!. Monster , what a horrid sort of word. I really do not think I am a monster. Beast . That will do. Aunt Beast .’

‘Aunt Beast,’ Meg murmured sleepily, and laughed.

‘Have I said something funny?’Aunt Beast asked in surprise. ‘Isn’t Aunt Beast all right?’

‘Aunt Beast is lovely,’ Meg said. ‘Please sing to me, Aunt Beast.’

If it was impossible to describe sight to Aunt Beast, it would be even more impossible to describe the singing of Aunt Beast to a human being. It was music even more beautiful than the singing of the creatures on Uriel. It was a music more tangible than form or sight. It supported Meg more firmly than the arms of Aunt Beast. It seemed to travel with her and to sweep her aloft in the power of song so that she was moving in glory among the stars, and for a moment she, too, felt that the words Darkness and Light had no meaning, and only this melody was real.

Meg did not know when she fell asleep within the body of the music. When she awakened Aunt Beast was asleep, too, the softness of her furry, faceless head drooping. Night had gone and a dull grey light filled the room. But she realized now that here on this planet there was no need for colour, that the greys and browns merging into each other were not what the beasts knew, and that what she, herself, saw was only the smallest fraction of what the planet was really like. It was she who was limited by her senses, not the blind beasts, for they must have senses of which she could not even dream.

She stirred slightly, and Aunt Beast bent over her immediately. ‘What a lovely sleep, my darling. Do you feel all right?’

‘I feel wonderful,’ Meg said. ‘Aunt Beast, what is this planet called?’

‘Oh, dear,’ Aunt Beast sighed. ‘I find it not easy at all to put things the way your mind shapes them. You call where you came from Camazotz?’

‘Well, it’s where we came from, but it’s not our planet.’

‘You can call us Ixchel,’ Aunt Beast told her. ‘We share the same sun as lost Camazotz, but that, give thanks, is all we share.’

‘Are you fighting the Black Thing?’ Meg asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ Aunt Beast replied. ‘In doing that we can never relax. We are the called according to his purpose, and whom he calls, them he also justifies. Of course we have help, and without help it would be much more difficult.’

‘Who helps you?’ Meg asked.

‘Oh, dear, it is so difficult to explain things to you, small one. And I know now that it is not just because you are a child. The other two are as hard to reach into as you are. What can I tell you that will mean anything to you? Good helps us, the stars help us, perhaps what you would call light helps us, love helps us. Oh, my child, I cannot explain! This is something you just have to know or not know.’

‘But —’

‘We look not at the things which are what you would call seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporal. But the things which are not seen are eternal.’

‘Aunt Beast, do you know Mrs Whatsit?’ Meg asked with a sudden flooding of hope.

‘Mrs Whatsit?’Aunt Beast was puzzled. ‘Oh, child, your-language is so utterly simple and limited that it has the effect of extreme complication.’ Her four arms, tentacles waving, were outflung in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Would you like me to take you to your father and your Calvin?’

‘Oh, yes, please!’

‘Let us go, then.They are waiting for you to make plans. And we thought you would enjoy eating — what is it you call it? Oh, yes, breakfast — together.You will be too warm in that heavy fur, now. I will dress you in something lighter, and then we will go.’

As though Meg were a baby, Aunt Beast bathed and dressed her, and this new garment, though it was made of a pale fur, was lighter than the lightest summer clothes on earth. Aunt Beast put one tentacled arm about Meg’s waist and led her through long, dim corridors in which she could see only shadows, and shadows of shadows, until they reached a large, columned chamber. Shafts of light came in from an open skylight and converged about a huge, round, stone table. Here were seated several of the great beasts, and Calvin and Mr Murry, on a stone bench that circled the table. Because the beasts were so tall, even Mr Murry’s feet did not touch the ground, and lanky Calvin’s long legs dangled as though he were Charles Wallace. The hall was partially enclosed by vaulted arches leading to long, paved walks. There were no empty walls, no covering roofs, so that although the light was dull in comparison to Earth’s sunlight, Meg had no feeling of dark or of chill. As Aunt Beast led Meg in, Mr Murry slid down from the bench and hurried to her, putting his arms about her.