“Like Rodney Quick,” Danal muttered.
“Yes, like him.”
Now, down by water level, the Wakers were quiet, expecting something. Gregor sat among them, merely one of the group—Danal could not tell from appearances that he was their leader.
One of the Wakers, the burly man who had previously posed as an Enforcer, came up to Gregor. “All the repair-rats are out of the vicinity. They won’t set off any fire alarms.”
Gregor nodded. He looked at his own chronometer and consulted the hardcopy of a tide table. He folded the table and thrust it into his pocket, then nodded to the swimmers. They dove under the water and swam together between the clustered pilings into a deep blanket of shadows.
Danal watched with a kind of dread as he saw something emerge, floating on the water, pushed and pulled by the three Waker swimmers. It was a raft of some kind, scattered with wood shavings, kindling, paper, and broken logs. The sweet chemical smell of a volatile hydrocarbon drifted to his nostrils.
As the raft came into the full light, Danal saw the body of Rodney Quick laid out upon the piled wood debris. He cringed and felt the nurse/tech’s hand on his shoulder. He tried to leave, but Laina held him back.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“You, of all people, should see this,” Laina countered.
The technician’s body had been washed and clothed in a clean white robe. Surrounding the unlit pyre lay flower petals and brightly-colored ornaments. The Wakers swam harder, bringing the bier close to the gathered crowd. Gregor stood up and swept his gaze over the Wakers, speaking formal words in a baritone voice:
“This man bore the name of Rodney Quick. That cannot be taken from him, though he is gone now.”
“He’s gone now,” the Wakers echoed.
“He will remain wherever he is now, the World of Light, and nothing will ever bring him back.”
The other Wakers muttered appreciatively.
“We are the Cremators. We preserve the soul by destroying the flesh.”
“Preserve the soul by destroying the flesh.”
Other people took torches from their holders and tossed them to the three swimmers. Treading water, the Wakers caught the torches and simultaneously set alight the bier containing Rodney Quick’s body. As the flames caught on the naphtha-soaked kindling, the three swimmers went to the side of the raft and pushed, swimming furiously, until the pyre began to drift away. Gregor had timed it perfectly, for the outgoing tide drew the raft with it.
The other Wakers began to moan a somber yet somehow joyous chant. Gregor stood tall and took a deep breath, and then quoted poetry in a kind of eulogy. “This man bore the name of William Shakespeare. He was a great and literate man, and is remembered long after his death. He wrote,
Gregor recited the lines from memory, in a rich and serious voice. The other Wakers sat enthralled, listening. The leader paused and then intoned again:
“In another place, another play, William Shakespeare said,
Danal felt a deep, stabbing sadness and guilt, but also wonder at the proceedings.
Gregor drew a long breath, as if exhausted, and then spoke a final time as the gathered Cremators waited, watching Rodney’s pyre drift away, burning bright.
“This man bore the name of Percy Bysshe Shelley. He was a poet and a revolutionary. He wrote a poem of a traveler coming upon a ruined statue alone in an empty and deserted wasteland:
Gregor closed his eyes. “After Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned during a storm, his friend Lord Byron built a pyre for him on the beach. While the villagers watched, Byron swam back out to his own yacht, turning to gaze at the flickering beacon as the growing fire freed the soul of Percy Bysshe Shelley and turned his body to ash.”
Above, the Cremators had set filters and traps to capture any smoke before it could waft upward and be seen rising through the KEEP OFF THE GRASS patches, though so late after curfew no one should have noticed anyway. The dripping Waker swimmers pulled themselves back up onto one of the platforms. The receding tide carried the still-burning pyre along with it, and Danal could see the flickering light drifting farther and farther from him. By morning the ashes of Rodney Quick would be dispersed far out to sea.
Danal wished he could get rid of his memories, his guilt so easily.
Gregor made a motion of dismissal, and the gathered Wakers stood up, beginning to move away. “Thank you all,” Gregor said.
Danal came up to the leader as the other Wakers began to leave. As if anticipating his question, Gregor said quietly, “All this ritual and ceremony means nothing. But it makes us feel honored, and content with ourselves.”
Danal frowned, puzzled, and noticed a thin woman approaching Gregor, looking frightened. The leader smiled warmly at her. “Yes, Shannah. Come and meet our new companion. His Servant name is Danal.”
She looked distractedly at Danal and then back to Gregor. She was extremely gaunt, and dark rings of sleepless anxiety encircled her eyes. Unlike all the other Wakers in their world below, Shannah still wore a long fluffy blond wig to cover her Servant baldness.
“I’ve decided, Gregor… I’m going back,” she whispered.
“Ah, no, Shannah.” He shook his head slowly. “Please don’t.”
“I’ve thought about it so much, Gregor. I’ve made up my mind.”
“You know I don’t approve. We have to survive until we know more. I don’t want to lose you.”
Shannah’s eyes glistened. “But I keep remembering the tunnel, the bright light, the chimes. The peace. It’s calling me, Gregor. I have to go back to whatever’s there.”
The leader regarded her in silence for a long moment and then finally came to a personal acceptance of her reasons. Danal watched carefully, trying to understand.
“When?” Gregor asked.
Shannah swallowed. “It better be now. I’m ready.”
Gregor put fingers to his lips and gave a shrill, birdlike whistle. The departing Wakers stopped to listen.
“I wish you’d reconsider this, Shannah.”
She didn’t answer him.
Gregor spoke aloud to the gathered Wakers once more. “Shannah has chosen to make her return journey now. We must all bear witness.”
The other Wakers reacted with surprise and sadness. The skeletal woman stretched out on her back, listening to the whisper of the sea. Danal could still smell the acrid smoke from Rodney Quick’s disappearing pyre. Shannah brushed her palms across her slick gray jumpsuit.
“Candles?” she whispered. “I like candles. Can you light some?”
“Of course, Shannah.” Gregor smiled at her, trying to deface his grief. The freckle-faced boy Waker rapidly climbed up a rope ladder and returned a few moments later with a handful of thin yellow candles. Shannah sat up and watched as they surrounded her with the candles.