"Thank you for the other day. I've got the map ready. Do you still hear that sound?"
"It was really strong last night. I really wanted to find you this evening, so I came with Milo, the goatherd."
"Everything's okay at home?"
Fazelo only grunted vaguely in reply.
"Your boss is a pretty frightening fellow. What's his name?"
"Temo."
"Temo? I'm sure I've heard that name."
"Maybe you have. He delivers fruits and vegetables to offices here and there."
"Maybe so. Anyway, here's the map." I spread out the map I had bought in the doorway.
"Can I call Milo?"
"Anyone's welcome to come."
"Milo! Come on! Look at the map."
At that, a healthy-looking youth about three years older than Fazelo emerged from the goat's pen. Wearing gaiters and a tattered, blue leather jacket, he bowed in greeting.
"Say, I don't know much about maps-- which way is west?"
"The top is north. Turn it like this." As he spoke, Fazelo placed the map on the floor and oriented it with our surroundings.
"So this is east, and this is west. We're right here now-- at this round racetrack."
"Where is the carbonization plant?" Milo asked.
"I don't think the carbonization plant is on this map." I spread out another. "Perhaps it's on this one."
"It's not here. How long has it been around?"
"Since last year."
"That's why it's not here. The survey for this map was earlier than that. Where is the plant?"
"At the edge of Murad forest."
"Oh, that's probably over here. What kind of trees are they-- oak and birch? Not Chinese cedar or cypress?"
"Oak and birch. Oh, is this it? I'm sure the sound I heard last night was coming from here."
"Let's go, then! We'll go take a look." Fazelo jumped up still holding the map.
"Can I go along?"
"Sure. I was going to ask you to."
"I'll go, then. Just a minute."
I hurried to get ready. The moon was supposed to be out, but we had to be able to read the map. I picked up a glass-sided lantern.
"Well, let's go." I slammed the door shut, and started out after Fazelo and Milo.
The sun had already set, and the sky had turned the blue of an old pond. The shrubs and acacia trees looked greener than any other time of day.
We cut across the center of the race track, and were soon on a little path that led out onto the plain. When I looked back, my house was small and glowed yellow.
"If we get to Polano Square, what do they say will be there?" I put this question to Fazelo, as we walked along behind Milo.
"There's an orchestra, and wine and all sorts of things. I don't drink wine, but I'd like to go along with the crowd."
"That's what they say-- I heard that sort of thing as a child."
"The best thing is that when you go there, anyone can sing beautifully. Even Milo, right?"
Milo agreed with a grunt. I had the impression he must have sung well to start with.
"When I was little I always came out on this plain to play," Fazelo said.
"Is that right?"
"Then my mother would say, 'hurry back, and don't be fooled by the owl.'"
"Said what?"
"'My mother would say, 'hurry back, and don't be fooled by the owl.'"
"By the owl?"
"Yeah, the owl. Once when I was even smaller, I went out onto the plain. Far away, I heard 'who ate it, who ate it?' That was the owl. I was a dumb little kid, and ran right toward it. When I got in the woods I got lost and started crying. Afterwards my mother would always say that."
"Where is your mother now?" I asked him softly, thinking of what he had said before.
"She isn't." He spoke sadly.
"You said before that your big sister might go work for Destupago."
"She didn't want to. But the boss told her to go."
"Temo?"
"Yeah. The boss is afraid of Dr. Wildcat."
"Why do you call him Dr. Wildcat?"
"I don't really know. Do you know, Milo?"
"Yeah." Milo looked back at us. "His business is walking wildcats and selling them abroad."
"Wildcats? Is he in the zoo business?"
"Maybe it's zoos." Milo fell silent, as though he didn't know either.
It had gotten really dark around us. The western horizon had stopped shining like the water of an old pond, and the vegetation had changed to a dark blue color.
Fazelo called out, "Hey, a pearlwort light came on."
Sure enough, in the black of the bushes to the side of us, a small pearlwort flower was shining dimly. And there was another, and another. The air was full of a must aroma of honey.
"If you look carefully at that light, it's a bunch of small, pale lights shaped like a moth."
"So it is-- I thought it was a single light."
"And there-- look, it's true! They have serial numbers."
We squatted down looking at the flowers. Sure enough, on each flower was what seemed to be a small, brown accounting number.
"Milo, what is it?"
"Maybe 1,256-- no, 1,258."
"Mine is 3,24...6."
"Are they as clear as that?" I really couldn't read them that clearly. But the flowers were lighting up, here, there and all around us.
"Here's 3,856. We just have to count up to 5,000, so Polano Square ought to be pretty close by."
"But there are none of the nice sounds you were talking about, are there?"
"I can hear it now. This one is 2,556."
"There's really no point reading out the numbers," I said.
"Why not?" Fazelo and Milo stood up straight and looked at me.
"Because first of all, I don't think there are any numbers written here; it's just a trick of your eyes. And if you can actually hear any music now, I think we should just go straight toward it. In any case, shouldn't we go ahead, since we've been here many times before? We're just a little north of that fork in the road. Mur„d forest is still ahead. What do you think, Milo?"
"It's still ahead."
"Well, then-- let's go. After we've gone a ways you can check the flowers again. We're just at 2,000 or 3,000."
Milo nodded and started walking. Fazelo followed silently. Not speaking, we walked across the plain, which looked strangely striped by masses of pale flowers ahead of us. Above the black horizon at the edge of the plain, the sky had taken on a steel color, a few small stars had shown up, and the air had become sweeter. About that time, our shadows appeared on the ground ahead of us. We turned back to look, and saw half the flat-looking full moon peeking above the street lights of Morio. We all let out a cry without thinking. Fazelo raised both hands as though to greet it, and leapt in the air.
Suddenly, across the pale plain, there was a quiet sound that might be a cello or bass.
"There! That's it!" Fazelo said, slapping my arm.
I stood straight and pricked up my ears. The sound resembled a very low murmur. I was completely unable to say, however, from which direction it was coming. It was not from the west, the south, the north, or from the direction from which we had come. Rather, it seemed to rise and fall, in a delightful way, from within the surface of the ground.
"It's just like in the old stories, isn't it? I had stopped understanding."
"The serial numbers over here are around 2,300," Fazelo said as he checked the pearlwort lights that had become even brighter since the moon came out.
"I don't think we can rely on serial numbers," I said, bending over to look.
Just then I saw a small, black bee move from the light of one flower to another.
"Look, a bee. The buzzing we've been hearing comes from bees that started moving when the moon came out. Look! There are bees all over the plain."
"With that, I thought it had become understandable. Fazelo and Milo were silent, but looked like they didn't accept it.
Milo finally spoke. "They are bees, you know. So it may be that's why it comes from all over the plain."
"Not at all. If it had been bees we'd have known it from the start. But last night I heard people laughing, clearer than ever."
"Was the laughter deep and loud?"
"No."
"I see." I no longer understood, and stood with my arms folded.
That's when it happened. From the western part of the plain I clearly heard the low tones of a trombone or bass fiddle. I turned sharply to face it. It could still be heard in the west. I couldn't help shivering; it was as though someone had bewitched the entire plain. The only other possibility was that, just as in the fairy tales, this joyous Polano Square somehow existed in the middle of a plain where there was nothing during the day. The daylight hours, when I sat in my office pasting labels in notebooks and carrying documents in to my supervisor's office, seemed to belong to a different world entirely.
"There's something after all, isn't there?"
"There is. But I still don't know where it's coming from."
"If we don't having bearings like this, there's no choice but to read the serial numbers, like the legend says. But how high do we have to count?"
"5,000."
"5,000? And how high did you say we were?"
"About 3,000."
"In that case, let's check to see if they increase to the west or to the north."
But then we heard a loud voice laughing behind us. "Haha. So you characters want to go to Polano Square!"
"Well, if it isn't Dr. Wildcat's coachman!" Milo said.
"Three of you lost together, counting numbers on the lights. Hahaha." An old man with a twisted leg and one eye stood with his hands in his jacket pockets, laughing loudly.
"We're counting, so what do you know about it, grandpa? Does Polano Square exist nowadays?" Fazelo asked.
"It does. It does, but it's not a Polano Square of the sort you're asking about, that the likes of you can find by crawling around counting flowers."
"In that case, what sort is it?"
"Much better."
"What sort?"
"Well," the old man hiccoughed. "It's no use to you three."
"Do you go there a lot, grandpa?"
"You couldn't say I haven't gone. It's such a good place."
"You've been drinking tonight, grandpa?"
"Because they have such good straw wine." He hiccoughed again.
"Maybe we shouldn't go, then."
"Don't go, you mustn't. The devil would take you for sure." The old man swayed, holding his head. It looked like a beetle had flown into him.
"Grandpa," Milo asked, "tell us which direction to Polano Square, and I'll sing you a song about the devil."
"Bad luck. You crawl around and look some more." Angered, the old man stamped down some pearlworts, and started of to the south.
"Grandpa, wait up," Fazelo called. "I'll water your horses."
The old man just kept going. Milo remained quiet at first, but finally couldn't hold back. "Hey! I'll sing for you!" he called out.
Fazelo seemed not to notice, but I was happy to see I had been right about Milo being a skilled singer. Milo loosened the top buttons of his jacket and shirt, and drew a breath.
"A boar fly or beetle, ignoring
The light of the moonlit pearlwort,
Rushes, and blunders into
Dr. Wildcat's blind, bony driver,
Who tramples him where he has fallen.
Not seeing the moonlit pearlwort,
He pulls himself quickly together,
And futilely flies away."
From the direction in which the old man walked off, however, a high, thin voice was calling "Fazelo, Fazelo."
"Sister! I'm coming!" Fazelo called back. The distant voice fell silent.
"That's too bad. The boss was calling for sure. I'd better hurry as far as the forest and see."
Milo stiffened and quickly said, "It's all right. I always thought there was something fishy about that cart driver or town grocer or whatever he is. He's always drunk lately; he definitely knows about Polano Square. Besides that, there have been a lot of strange carts piled with dry grass in the plain lately. Fazelo, don't let on you know anything, and go home and get some sleep. I'm certain to find Polano Square in five or six days."
"Really? I don't really understand."
We heard the voice again. "Fazelo! Come on! You've got a job in town."
"I'm coming!" Then to me, "Can you bet back to the racetrack by yourself? I have to go to the boss's place."
"I can. I've come here many times during the day. Here, you take the map."
"Give it to Milo. I never have time to come on the plain during the day."
Then I saw a lovely girl standing a little way off in the light of the moon and the pearlworts. Fazelo addressed her. "Sister. This is him. He gave me a map."
The sister didn't come closer, but bowed silently. I also bowed, silently.
"Goodbye, then. I've got to hurry."
Fazelo ran off. Milo stood facing the north, hands to his hears, and said nothing. I felt that Polano Square was right there, just as it stood, and that the coachman and Milo had not awakened from their dreams.
"Milo-- that was a good song. You don't have to go to Polano Square to learn to sing. Goodbye."
Milo bowed politely. I walked back home, across that beautiful plain, filling my
chest with the smell of honey.
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