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A dark, aged place.
A breezy fog rolls.
The sounds of a storm, warfare and wild animals are heard in the distance.
Two Gate Watchers, COMBRAY and MELTOAD are leaning upon their staffs. Having just ended a conversation on eternity, there is a slight pause when COMBRAY continues.
COMBRAY: I was [adjusts stance against staff] sitting the other evening –
MELTOAD [interrupting]: Oh?
COMBRAY: Yes –
MELTOAD [interrupting, with realization]: I’ve been sitting recently as well. [Joyfully recalling.] Knees bent, legs sloped in a row. Why, I’m guilty of having a bit of the whole operation. [Smiles, looks to his right.]
COMBRAY: Well, as I was sitting the –
MELTOAD: Sitting?
MELTOAD [to self, assuring]: Ah, the days! [Light laugh, confidently adjusts uniform. MELTOAD removes a brown stick with a blue ring wrapped around it from his jacket pocket and begins to clean his nails with it, paying no attention to COMBRAY.]
COMBRAY: Yes. [Pause.] As I was sitting… [Pause, watches MELTOAD.] I sensed something. [Waves hands about.] In the air. Confused, upward, I took view. [Pause.] The clouds, the whole lot of them, had moved.
MELTOAD [cleaning nails, uncaring]: Parted? The heavens?
COMBRAY [nodding]: Through them I could see… the sky was blue. [Pause. Confused, thinking aloud as well as relaying the story to MELTOAD.] Peculiar sight for one to behold with the evening shadows which are continually sent upward–
MELTOAD [looks up, raises stick high in the air, and as soon as the last syllable of “upward” leaves COMBRAY’s mouth]: Ho!
COMBRAY [continues previous sentence] – each evening, wouldn’t you agree?
MELTOAD [returning to his nails]: I’m sorry, you were, what were you?
COMBRAY: The clouds had moved. The gray, lifted. Something allowed the sky three or four shades of –
MELTOAD [interrupting, but still looking to his nails]: Yes?
COMBRAY: Blue.
MELTOAD [returns to nails]: It was, was it? [Pause. COMBRAY nods. MELTOAD looks back up.] What was it?
COMBRAY: Blue.
MELTOAD: How’s that? [Respectfully places stick in jacket pocket.]
COMBRAY: The sky, it was blue. [MELTOAD gives a look of confusion.]
MELTOAD [concerned]: An apparition, you suggest?
COMBRAY: No – I say, the sky it was –
MELTOAD: You said, “Boo.”
COMBRAY: No, I said the sky was –
MELTOAD [bored, adjusting stance against staff]: Yes, yes. I’m but having a crumb of fun with you.
COMBRAY: Ah. [Briefly feigns laugher.]
MELTOAD [offhanded]: So, in this sky –
COMBRAY: Yes?
MELTOAD: Were there any stars? I've heard a bull with one horn can be seen in the east. Did you see a bull with one horn?
COMBRAY [disappointed]: I don’t recall.
MELTOAD: Ah.
COMBRAY: Yes…
Silence.
Pause.
Both look at their watches, the sky, and ground.
COMBRAY [smiling]: Our watch is nearly over. [MELTOAD nods dryly.] And I’m beginning to feelin those old pangs.
MELTOAD [bored]: “Old pangs?”
COMBRAY [rubbing stomach, smiling]: The hunger pangs.
MELTOAD: Oh, yes… the hunger pangs. [Pause.] Thinking of a bite, are we?
COMBRAY: I was, yes. Are you free for a bite?
MELTOAD: Afraid not, no. I’m, well, I would certainly prefer not to speak of it. It’s ever so desperately on the unmentionable side.
COMBRAY [happy to end topic]: Of course.
MELTOAD: Quite the nasty ordeal, old boy. [Lightly laughs to self.] A man has shamed himself, his family, and local deity after such an act. [Slight pause, recalling the moment directly with favor.] Rashes, blisters, six months of not shaking hands with peddlers, the whole sorted mess. [Slight pause, laughs to self, offhandedly.] Seepage, etcetera. [Sighs.]
COMBRAY: Ah. The old seepage. [Pause. Attempting to shift focus of conversation.] I overheard Captain Heckroth mention something about a machine that can convert it to fuel. Or was it fertilizer.
MELTOAD [annoyed, begins unwrapping a bandage on his forearm]: I can see you won’t be still until you’ve heard the through and through. Very well, old fellow, lend an eye, lend an eye… [Exposes bandage with honor.] Have you ever taken part in a, well, now how did the French phrase it…
COMBRAY: My god.
MELTOAD: Oh yes, a shot of whiskey, a Sunday whore, a bubbler and two pints of autumn ale is all I require for a rather lecherous free for all which has left me [motions to arm] branded. I ask myself, well, old man, in the end, was it worth it? Was it really worth all that? And I answer myself thusly, with an almost puckish furrow of the brow: Indeed. Sure I’ll never again be able to stand while I relieve—
COMBRAY: No need. I hardly intended for you to have to… give me the through and through.
MELTOAD [disgusted]: Yes. [Looks COMBRAY over. Pause.] I suppose you’ll have the last say. [Begins rewrapping forearm.] I’ll quiet myself.
MELTOAD turns away.
Pause.
COMBRAY [not wanting to offend]: If you prefer to speak on the matter, please do. I simply didn’t want for you to fee as if I was inquiring into your—
MELTOAD [genuine excitement]: To feel? So, you have heard. Of course that’s their term. “Amiable infection” better defines the course of action. [Winks at COMBRAY, laughs to self.]
COMBRAY [confused, genuine interest]: Really? It's infected?
MELTOAD [interrupting, offended]: Now! Such lack of tact is … jarring. Simply jarring. [Pause. Collects himself, then quickly.] Desires, certainly, I have them… Why look at him! [Removes stick from pocket.] I shan’t speak of the deeds and hours it took to acquire this little scamp! Desires for the proper things [holds up stick again] yes, but I have jno, I say no, desire to be the latest topic in the salons.
COMBRAY: Of course not. And I’m not questioning anything. I'm not even certain what it is that you aren’t discussing.
Enter GRAYDEN, a fellow WATCHER, holding a staff.
LITTLE GRAYDEN: Who’s there?
COMBRAY and MELTOAD stand on attention.
COMBRAY and MELTOAD [bored]: Long live the Queen.
LITTLE GRAYDEN: Meltoad? Combray?
MELTOAD: Ay, he.
COMBRAY: And he.
GRAYDEN slowly moves towards the center of the stage, apprehensively surveying the dark forest beyond the tower.
GRAYDEN: Has it been a quiet watch?
MELTOAD [looking to COMBRAY]: It’s been a long watch.
COMBRAY: What news do you bring from the frontlines, Grayden?
GRAYDEN: They say General Moshay's forces are gathering along The Coral Vistas. [Pause. Informing.] My brother now fights with The General.[To self, envisioning the moment he strikes down his brother.] Pity, if I’m forced to kill him.
COMBRAY: Or he you. Pause.
GRAYDEN [surprised]: Do you think he’s fallen that far? [Thinks briefly then suddenly] Is that what you’ve heard Combray? That he plans to murder me? Are your sources often accurate?
COMBRAY: No, I’ve not heard anything, Grayden. I was just supposing the possibility that if you charge towards him with your weapon drawn he may mimic such behavior in return.
GRAYDEN: But my own brother?
COMBRAY is at a loss.
GRAYDEN [Thinking, to himself]: How beastly![Suddenly, taking staffs] I'll take your staffs.[Places staffs over his right shoulder while continuing to hold his own in his left.]I’m up to the top of the tower, I’ll have these ready on the morrow. Long live the Queen [Nods.]
COMBRAY: Long live the Queen! [Nods, places right fist above left breast.]
EXIT GRAYDEN.
MELTOAD: [sudden, flippant]: Best I’m off. [Begins removing jacket, looking about.] Can’t afford to make too late of a break on the day. [To his stick] It’s just a good thing that I've had you here to steady me. Call me a good boy! [Places stick to ear, listens. Smiles.] Life! [Places stick back in pocket.]
COMBRAY: Very sorry you’re unable to lunch. Another time?
MELTOAD: Perhaps... I wouldn’t care to today regardless; not in this weather.
COMBRAY [looks up]: Oh? Looks fine enough to me... the clouds have returned, but... [Back to MELTOAD.] Pleasure serving with you today. See you at The Gates tomorrow?
MELTOAD: Oh no, not tomorrow, it’s my day off. I’m to bubble the sander on Poppy’s pontoon. By request of Captain Rosenthorne, mind.
COMBRAY: Quite an honor. Enjoy your day off and please, give Poppy my regards.
[COMBRAY extends his hand to shake. MELTOAD quickly glances at it, scratches his neck, then places his hands in his pocket and removes his stick. Offers it to COMBRAY to shake. COMBRAY shakes, MELTOAD places stick back in pocket.]
Exit MELTOAD.
Pause.
COMBRAY: So then; alone at last. Once upon a map, a dot, that spot, sifting along the still. Timing the stops between windfalls and blood clots; lending an ear to the ticks, the starts with locks. Shuffling onward [offstage: “Ho!”] Beyond the rocks and shore, an orphaned child mimics an alarm. Cap to skull, knees to pray; and if the evening hath broken, [looking up] then permit the stilled breath of death to mend thy flesh today.
Begins to pace in circles.