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"Thank you for learning," said Pilar. "I'm going to sleep now. Don't forget to tell the bees."
Toby sat beside Pilar until she stopped breathing. Then she pulled the coverlet up over her tranquil face and snuffed out the candle. Was it her imagination or had the candle flared up at the moment of Pilar's death as if a little surge of air had passed it? Spirit, Adam One would say. An energy that cannot be grasped or measured. Pilar's immeasurable Spirit. Gone.
But if Spirit wasn't material in any way, it couldn't influence a candle flame. Could it?
I'm getting as mushy as the rest of them, thought Toby. Addled as an egg. Next thing I'll be talking to flowers. Or snails, like Nuala.
But she went to tell the bees. She felt like an idiot doing it, but she'd promised. She remembered that it wasn't enough just to think at them: you had to say the words out loud. Bees were the messengers between this world and the other worlds, Pilar had said. Between the living and the dead. They carried the Word made air.
Toby covered her head -- as was the custom, Pilar had claimed -- and stood in front of the Rooftop's hives. The bees were flying around as usual, coming and going, bringing their leg-loads of pollen, waggling in their figure-eight semaphoric dances. From inside the hives came the humming of wings as they fanned the air, cooling it, ventilating the cells and passageways. One bee is all the bees, Pilar used to say, so what's good for the hive is good for the bee.
Several bees flew around her head, golden in their fur. Three lit on her face, tasting her.
"Bees," she said. "I bring news. You must tell your Queen."
Were they listening? Perhaps. They were nibbling gently at the edges of her dried tears. For the salt, a scientist would say.
"Pilar is dead," she said. "She sends you her greetings, and her thanks for your friendship over many years. When the time comes for you to follow her to where she has gone, she will meet you there." These were the words Pilar had taught her. She felt like such a dolt, saying them out loud. "Until then, I am your new Eve Six."
Nobody was listening, though if they had been they wouldn't have found anything odd, not up here on the Rooftop. Whereas down below at ground level they'd have labelled her as a crazy woman, wandering the streets, talking out loud to nothing.
Pilar used to bring the news to the bees every morning. Would Toby be expected to do the same? Yes, she would. It was one of the functions of the Eve Six. If you didn't tell the bees everything that was going on, Pilar said, their feelings would be hurt and they'd swarm and go elsewhere. Or they'd die.
The bees on her face hesitated: maybe they could feel her trembling. But they could tell grief from fear, because they didn't sting. After a moment they lifted up and flew away, blending with the circling multitudes above the hives.
35
Once she'd pulled herself together and arranged her face, Toby went to tell Adam One. "Pilar died," she said. "She took care of it herself."
"Yes, my dear. I know," said Adam One. "We discussed it. She used the Death Angel, and then the Poppy?" Toby nodded. "But -- this is a delicate matter, and I am counting on your discretion -- she didn't feel the Gardeners at large should be told the entire truth. Final self-journeying is a moral option only for the experienced and, I have to say, only for the terminally ill, as Pilar was; but it's not one we should make widely available -- especially not to our young people, who are impressionable and prone to indulge in morbid sulking and false heroics. I trust you've taken charge of those medicine bottles of Pilar's? We wouldn't want any accidents."
"Yes," said Toby. I need to get a box made, she thought. A metal one. With a lock.
"And now you're Eve Six," said Adam One, beaming. "I'm so pleased, my dear!"
"You discussed that with Pilar too, I suppose," said Toby. The whole Vigil thing was just a stall, she thought. Keeping me on hold until Pilar could clinch the sale.
"It was her earnest desire," said Adam One. "She had such a deep love and respect for you."
"And I hope to be worthy of her," she said.
So the two of them had trapped her. What could she say? She found herself stepping into ritual as if into a pair of stone shoes.
Adam One called a general Gardeners meeting, at which he made a lying speech. "Unfortunately," he began, "our dear Pilar -- Eve Six -- passed away tragically earlier today after making a species identification error. She had many years of impeccable practice to her credit -- but perhaps this was God's way of harvesting our beloved Eve Six for His greater purposes. Let me remind you of the importance of learning our mushrooms thoroughly; and do confine your mushrooming activities to well-known species, such as the Morels, the Shaggy Manes, and the Puffballs -- those about which there cannot be any confusion.
"While she was alive, Pilar expanded our mushroom and fungus collection enormously, adding a number of wild specimens. Some of these can be an aid to meditation during your Retreats, but please, do not try them without taking informed advice, and watch for those telltale cups and rings -- we do not want any more unfortunate incidents of this nature."
Toby felt outrage: how could Adam One disparage Pilar's mycological expertise? Pilar would never have made such a mistake: the older Gardeners must know that. But maybe it was only a way of talking, just as suicide used to be called "death by misadventure."
"I am happy to announce," Adam One continued, "that our worthy Toby has agreed to fill the position of Eve Six. This was Pilar's wish, and I'm sure you'll all agree that there is no one more suited to the position than she. I myself rely upon her completely for ... for many things. Her great gifts include not only her extensive knowledge, but also her good sense, her fortitude in adversity, and her kind heart. This is why she was Pilar's choice." There was some subdued nodding and smiling in Toby's direction.
"Our beloved Pilar wished to be composted in Heritage Park," Adam One continued. "She herself thoughtfully selected the shrub she wished planted on top of her -- a fine specimen of Elderberry -- so that in time we may expect some foraging dividends. As you know, an unofficial composting is a risk, as it incurs heavy penalties -- the Exfernal World believes that even death itself should be regimented and, above all, paid for -- but we will prepare for this event with caution and carry it out with discretion. Meanwhile, those of you who desire to see Pilar for the last time may do so at her cubicle. If you wish to present a floral tribute, may I suggest the nasturtiums, which are plentiful at this season. Please do not pick any of the garlic flowers, as we are saving them for propagation."
There were some tears, and some outright sobbing from the children -- Pilar had been well loved. Then the Gardeners filed away. Some smiled again at Toby to show they were pleased by her promotion. Toby herself stayed where she was, because Adam One was holding on to her arm.
"Forgive me, dear Toby," he said when the rest had gone. "I apologize for my excursion into fiction. I must sometimes say things that are not transparently honest. But it is for the greater good."
Toby and Zeb were chosen to select the location for Pilar's composting, and to pre-dig the hole. Time was of the essence, said Adam One: the Gardeners did not go in for refrigeration and the weather was warm, so if they didn't compost Pilar soon she was likely to undertake the process a little too rapidly herself.
