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'It's all over now； isn't it？' She was looking up at him； her face tilted so that the last of the light reflected off the water； toned her skin； cooling it； making it glow。
'Yes；' he said； rubbing his bandaged arm。 'It's all over now。'
He was on his side； half dreaming； when Justine came out of the bathroom。 She turned off the light and； to him； it seemed as if the moon had sunk beneath the rim of the horizon。
He felt her silently get into bed； moving her pillow to a more fortable position； then the warmth of her body close against him： the line of her spine； the soft curve of her buttocks； her knees against his thighs。 Electricity seemed to flow from one to the other。
He thought of Yukio； as the exhaustion rose like fluid； suffusing his limbs and beginning on his torso。 He knew now that his fear was the same as his love for her。 Her purely elemental sexuality was what drew him to her； what continually aroused him when he was with her。 But he had been unwilling； and thus afraid； to acknowledge the balancing half of the equation； that there was； to him also； an elemental sexuality。 That Yukio had been able to draw this out of him he had both loved and feared at the same time。
It saddened him greatly that he should have been living a lie for all these years； believing that she had deceived him。 But to know now that she had loved him as he had loved her was enough。 She was gone from him； had been for a long time； except in his dreams。 That memory was his and he would do for her what he did for his parents； light incense and say the prayers for them on the days of their births。
Justine stirred beside him and he turned over on his back。 Her right arm was beneath her head； the hand buried to the wrist beneath the crumpled pillow。 He heard her soft； even breathing。。。
In the high house filled with bars of bright golden sunlight and deep shade falling obliquely across the bare wooden floors Nicholas encountered So…Peng。 He seemed not to have aged at all since the time the Colonel and Cheong had e to visit him。 Tall and thin with bright black eyes and' long hands； longer fingernails which clashed softly like the mandibles of some mythic creature； he stood in the centre of the vaulted room； studying Nicholas。
'You have brought me a fine present。 I am most grateful。' ？ Nicholas looked around； saw nothing。 Only he and So…Peng。 He did not understand。
'Where am I？'
'Somewhere；' said the old man； 'east of the moon； east of the sun。'
'I don't remember how I got here。' Nicholas felt panic overtake him。 'I'll never find it again。'
So…Peng smiled and his nails clashed together； the brittle sound of cicadas at noon。 'You came here once。 You will find your way again。'
And then Nicholas was alone in the high house； staring at himself in a long panel mirror。
Dawn light； gentle and pale； woke him as it came in through the bedroom window。 Justine was still asleep。 He lifted the covers lightly； got out of bed。
He washed and dressed silently； went down the hallway into the kitchen to make himself a cup of green tea。 He whirled the crushed leaves around and around the cup until they had dissolved。 There was a fine froth on top； as pale a green as the mist in the mountains of Japan in autumn。
He sipped once； very slowly； savouring the bitter taste that was like no other in the world。 Then he went into the living room。 He turned on the light in the fish tank； fed the inhabitants。
It was a remarkably clear day。 Clouds； very high up； stood sharply delineated； their striations as well defined as those in marble。 They swayed in the high wind aloft。 He opened the door； leaving only the screen door closed against the beach insects。 The breeze swept in off the sea； rich and moist。
Justine was dreaming of a man whose face seemed to be all mouth。 It was a lipless scar； like the horizon on the brink of a savage storm； black and ominous； opening and closing as lurid lightning forked and flickered far out。
It was screaming at her； over and over； the voice just a whisper； each whisper a lash dial stung her heart； raising a welt； leaving a scar in its insidious wake。
She tried to get her mind in gear； to think coherently； but the screaming mouth confused her and she lay idling like a car in neutral。
The words the mouth was screaming at her poured down on her like hard rain； making her mind hurt until the only thing she wanted to do was to put her hands over her ears to blot out the terrible noise。 But it went on and on and on。
The only way to make the mouth stop was to do what it said。
Now she wanted to wake up。 Or she did not。 She could not tell which。 She began to whimper and cry。 In her dream？ Or for real？ Which did she want to do？ Wake up？ Or continue to sleep？ She was terrified and every moment she remained asleep her fear intensified。
She began to struggle。 She felt steel crossing the palms of her hands。
Then her eyes snapped open。
Nicholas was on his knees； sitting straight…backed； facing the windows； the water and the dawn； when Justine came into the room。 His eyes were closed； the handle…less cup of green tea steaming in front of him。 His spirit expanded； gyring high into the clear sky； reaching towards the high clouds。
Justine； eyes opened wide and burning quiet cold fire； stole silently past the bubbling fish tank。 Her pale yellow nightgown swirled about her as if she were immersed in mist； rising up from the floor she walked； enwrapping her torso。
She turned and； reaching upwards with her two hands； unsheathed the katana which hung on the wall just below Nicholas's dai…katana。 She would have taken that but it was just out of her reach。
Now she turns； transfigured。 Her eyes are not her own。 The colour is all wrong and the crimson motes have been obscured by the new blackness of the irises。 Her face； she feels with a mixture of terror and exhilaration； is no longer feminine； though her figure is not altered。 Like dark lightning flickering： adder； ant； man…thing。 She shakes her head as her vision blurs。 Colours seem strange； shapes bulk at her in different proportions。 All of it has lost the extra dimensions with which she once saw the world。 It is a cold and hateful place； joyless and as sere as the ' great Gobi。
Air bellows in and out of her lungs as if through some baleful force outside her ken and she curls up inside herself； crying and shivering。
Still her hands are calm and controlled as she places them one over the other around the wound leather handle of the katana； feeling its weight and its balance； knowing … and not knowing how she knows … the perfection of it。
Now her bare feet are placed slowly one before the other； at precise angles； as she draws ever closer to the muscular back at the front of the room。
Cool light floods her as she es out from the shadows and she pauses a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the glare。
Now she is so close that it seems her harsh breath must brush his skin。 Her arms are raised high over her head in preparation for the one lethal blow。 One instant and it is all over： the striking of a match in the dark； the flick of one fingernail against another。 The difference between life and death。
The tip of the katana begins to quiver as the killing energy is built up。 One cannot use the iai in this situation … the great scream that releases so much energy。 How does she know this？ she wonders。 One must draw the power upwards from the lower abdomen … more； more； the muscles are so weak。
And it is at this moment； as the katana mences its dark downward rush； that her core； at last seeing； begins to uncurl。
No！ she screamed to herself。 No no no！
But the blade was already a blur； cleaving the air as it went down and down and； despairing； she knew that it was far too late。
In flight； his spirit seemed to take on the characteristics of an old man。 Not any old man but a particular one。
Nicholas； unbound； was old yet seemed not to feel the years。 Rather； they hung over one bare； insubstantial arm like a series of silk scarves； each one a different colour； corresponding to its memories。
In the sky of the new day he danced the dance of life； a delighted child who has nevertheless seen many things； experienced many days a