Nathaniel Rich - The Mayor's Tongue

She turned her hand over in his, so that their fingers interlocked.

He gripped her tight. They passed house after house, each painted the same dark red hue, the color of a bloodstain.

"There's someone you should meet."

"I just want to be with you."

"Follow me," she said. He recognized something in her expression that reminded him of the look she gave him on the muddy marble floor, when the silt was dripping down her calves in rivulets.

"Look ahead," she said. "That's where he lives. The Casa Contenta.

Isn't it unworldly?"

Fifty yards ahead, past the black iron gate, the gravel gave way to a redbrick lane. Spruce trees, planted close together, picked up on either side of the road where the houses ended. Through the leaves the yellowing horizon shone through with sharp pinpricks of light. Farther ahead, Eugene could make out a dark, hulking stone immensity, veiled by a faint blue mist.

"This is good," said Sonia. "To see you." She slowed her pace and regarded him closely, as if she was trying to detect something in his expression. "I didn't expect it would be like this."

"Me neither," said Eugene. "But I'm happy now."

She gave him a wide smile.

"You smell nice," he said.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like clean clothes, skin, apricot shampoo. . a sleepy type of smell."

"You should have seen me when I first got here. I was covered in moss and mud and slime."

"How did you get here, anyway? Did you come up the Carso all by yourself?"

"I had a funny trip up here. A girl I met in Trieste, who was from Idaville, led me here. She was. . strange. Different from anyone I've ever met. It takes a long time to adjust to this place." She brushed the hair off her eyes. Eugene touched her hip again and this time she let his fingers stay there, lightly perched, a finger-shaped butterfly.

"Who is this girl?" he asked.

"You'll meet her. She was born here. Her name is Stasia. She wants to meet you too."

Sonia torqued several pulleys and pressed a panel hidden in the wall behind a thicket of ivy. The gate swung open. As they walked onto the Mayor's property, Sonia told Eugene all that had happened since she arrived in Italy; of her days spent with Frank Lang; of Kasia and Marco and Poldi; of her night flight with Stasia and their trip through the Carso — a vineyard, a lurking vintner named Goran, and their rocky descent into the valley. As they walked, the red bricks seemed to brighten in the falling light, turning orange and pink. Eugene felt as though he had lost control of himself. He could only follow Sonia wherever she led him. It was a liberating, if harrowing, sensation.

"When we got to Idaville, Stasia ran through the town but couldn't find her boyfriend. I was afraid to be left alone, but the villagers greeted me like some kind of princess — it was like they had been prepared for my arrival. I didn't really know how to respond. Then they led me to the mansion." She gestured ahead. "I entered a huge hall, with a long table lit by candles and walls covered with tapestries. Connie was sitting at the end of the table." She laughed nervously. "The first thing you notice is his size. I thought I knew everything there was to know about him, but I wasn't expecting this. He's gargantuan. I had never seen anything like it. He's even bigger than my father said he was. I think. ." Her laughter died, and she fell silent for a moment. "I think he never stopped growing."

The mansion lurched out of the mist. Eugene's initial impression was that it looked better suited for purposes of fortification than domestication. Bright white walls rose three stories from grass to sky, broken by gold and green stained-glass windows divided by transoms, and high freestone ramparts, capped by embattled parapets and machicolations decorated with Gothic details. A single tower rose high on one side, like the Uffizi. Sonia pointed to this tower and said, with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, "That's where I'm staying."

They pushed through the heavy black door and entered an airless, claustrophobic foyer that was dark except for the flicker of candles. Sonia led him by the hand through heavy velvet curtains and into a long, high-ceilinged hall, which felt cramped despite its capacious volume, because of a gridlock of heavy, ornate furniture. Colored-glass windows admitted, through their heavy panes, dim maculae of light that settled on the cushions and tables like sludge. The wall opposite the windows was paneled with faded, ancient tapestries, from which Eugene could make out faint details here and there — a sword, a bucking horse, a scroll of ancient text. A wooden banquet table some hundred places long, covered with a yellowed dimity tablecloth, ran the length of the hall. Sofas and chairs stood along the walls. They did not look as if they had been sat upon in many years. Swirls of dust seemed to emanate from every surface and shifted slowly in the air.

And through the gloom, on the far side of the long hall, Eugene could sense a presence, if not see it — a massive, indiscernible shadow lurking over the end of the table. He grabbed Sonia's arm and dragged her back out of the room.

"Was that him?" he said in a whisper.

"He's expecting you."

"You're coming, right?"

"No. I think you should have some time alone."

"But we've barely had any time together yet. There's so much we have to talk about."

"I know, darling," she said, and held his neck in her cool hands. He flushed and leaned in to her. She pressed her hips against him. They kissed, close, and a current ran down Eugene's spine, tapping each vertebra as it passed through.

Behind them, the front door opened with an explosion of light, and Enzo and Stasia appeared. Their arms were wrapped around each other in what appeared an uncomfortable pose, as if they had been afraid to withdraw from their initial embrace.

"Eugene!" shouted Enzo, ecstatic to see him again. "LOOK WHO I FOUND!" Eugene tried to smile, but it felt awkward on his face. "I heard you were here. I'm sorry not to have greeted you when you arrived — we've been reacquainting ourselves."

At this Stasia kissed Enzo on his neck and, as if she had tasted something of surprising richness, moved lip by lip up to his jaw and ear, the lingering spread of saliva marking her path.

"Eugene is going to meet the Mayor," said Sonia, glaring at Stasia. Stasia did not notice this, her eyes buried in the scruff of Enzo's nape.

"The Mayor is a remarkable man," said Enzo. "I was wrong before. He is a glory. He loves all of his children."

"I'm not his child," said Eugene.

"We're all the Mayor's children," said Enzo, reassuring him.

"Enzo, Stasia — let's go outside." Sonia pushed the couple back to the front door. "I'm sorry, Eugene, but you need to talk to him alone. Isn't this what you always wanted? To meet your hero, face to face?"

"I guess so," said Eugene. "Though not like this." But it was true — he had often imagined meeting Eakins before, had played the scene over in his head. He had a sick feeling about it now, however. Like he was walking into a trap. He couldn't quite tell whether Sonia's tone was sincere or mocking.

Sonia looked deep into him, as if to fix the image in her memory. "I'll see you as soon as you're done."

"And then we'llleave together?"

"Come here." She was clearly moved, and hugged him close. And then she left with Enzo and Stasia, so that Eugene was alone in the foyer's flickering darkness. He tried to open the front door again, but it was locked from the outside and the laughing voices of Sonia and the others already seemed far away.

While he waited for his eyes to adjust, he stared deep into the shadows that flashed against the wall. He saw in them Alvaro and nurse Betty, mid-chrysalis; next to this he saw Sonia as she once was, mud dripping from her shoulders and belly, her hand groping toward him; he saw a winding trail through a cave embedded in a cliff; a jungle village in the Cordillera Central foothills, where Jacinto and Alsa hid from her evil father; and finally, most clearly now, an old man leaning against a balustrade, looking off into a dirty river, and dreaming of his son. When this image became so clear that he could not bear it anymore, Eugene let out a low growl and pushed through the door to the great hall, racing toward the enormous presence that was seated at the end of the table, awaiting him.