The Schedule of Víhaan

John Clark Smith

A Novel in Verse by John Clark Smith

2 Marble

Wherein we go back in time,

when Hután ponders why he was invited

to the castle of the patron Pitworthy,

the meaning of the green drink,

the suspicious film on the marble,

why Mustfarris’ blood appears on the marble,

the meeting with Rohan in San Sebastian,

and how Carina obtained The Schedule.

 

The long black marble counter that stopped at the long black couch

that faced the long black mantel over the smoldering fire—

the couch close enough to erupt in flames should some bit or two

of burning wood escape and bust through the protective screen—

absorbed the waiting hunched Hután on a high-backed wooden stool

pensively staring first at the fire—the smell and cracking

sound and sight of its wood almost lulling him to needed sleep—

and then at the shiny counter where he saw the wrinkled

tired eyes and pale complexion of someone forced too often

to work long hours in the dark or indoors without any rest,

his one hand holding his forehead with the fingers spraying

through his closely cut black hair, staring at a tall tumbler

filled with green juice someone had set down, he assumed, for him,

his other hand dug nervously within his coat pocket

feeling the small case of a computer memory chip

that moved between his fingers and his palm, his hands now

chilled from the damp fall air streaming into an open window

and the weeping willows waltzing to the wind blocking the sun

but also chilled because the room had been clearly vacant

and unheated and the fire providing the only warmth,

supposedly made for Hután, who had kept his coat on

not only for warmth but because the black marble counter

had a suspicious surface film similar to one that

poisoned Mustfarris in Granada, though admittedly

that coating was light green while this coating was almost clear,

and that marble white; this black marble now reminding him

of Westminster Abbey where Carina and he once met

in the tomb of Henry Seventh and its black sarcophagus,

and of a Greece he so much missed. If he touched the marble,

or even looked at its patterns for too long, he could be

transported to his Hellenic period, a blissful

time of ignorance, innocence, and thus peace of mind,

quite in contrast to this purposefully frigid welcome

done either to embarrass, intimidate, imperil,

and discourage the presence of minor and unworthy

contenders or their opposite; or the invitation

was mistaken and he arrived too early or too late.

Yet none of these options certainly had ever happened

at the castle of such a patron as Kark Pitworthy,

not the friendliest of men but not a rude one either,

though his castle’s hall was often dark, damp, and ominous,

and used for conferences and limited occasions,

while his family and he, when they came to the castle,

lived in the floors above. But a lack of civility

wasn’t part of Pitworthy’s nature or relationships,

making this neglect of a visitor quite suspicious.

Not that Pitworthy knew about the work of the Remnant,

a knowledge far too dangerous for any and all patrons,

but Pitworthy was the oldest and wealthiest patron

signed on to the Remnant, and Pitworthy’s secluded isle—

off the eastern Italian coastline near Assisi,

his castle dwarfed by a canopy of great and old trees,

some reaching higher than the castle—was a meeting site

of the Remnant before it secured a secluded base

on the Andaman Islands, the isle an impressive start

that Udaki, Carina, Hután, and the two trainees

—Aaron and Mustfarris—all attended and found inspiring.

An historic day, Hután recalled, becoming wistful

sitting at this long, thick, and dark mass of chilly counter

that coiled around the room like a flat worm, its coal color

like the floor of a hotel room in Krakow that had scenes

from Trajan’s Column carved within it. One tile of hunting

was the spot Hután smashed a case Carina handed him

soon after she danced on another marble counter

at a masked ball filled with rich and noble guests—one of whom

was Prince Andres—a covert carrier and assassin,

errand-boy for the Remnant’s nemesis, Dvorak,

the same Prince who danced briefly with Carina at the ball

when she did not wear a mask and was rescued by Hután—

whom Carina tricked by pretending her employer was Hydra

and rubbed her body up against him long enough to lift

the elusive case from the Prince’s coat, and from the smashed case

rolled out The Schedule itself. That thrilling day in Krakow,

the memories of the many meetings at this castle,

the black marble, seeing Carina dance on the counter,

and the theft of The Schedule itself—an object that could

start a war among the underground and covert groups—all

were obvious triggers—but also because this counter

had exceptionally black marble and such a marble

was probably from Basque, another source for marble that,

like Greece, had memories he’d rather not relive right now

but could not keep buried, since the saga of The Schedule

started for him in Basque when he was called to a fountain

built at the Alderdi-Eder Park in San Sebastian

to meet Rohan Manan, who had arrived on business

for his friend and associate Víhaan Rickteshvara,

a genius and little-known creator of The Schedule.

Víhaan sent a desperate message to Rohan that Hydra,

the massive neutral amorphous underground syndicate,

had abducted him to obtain and decode The Schedule—

falsehoods written to scare Rohan and stop his involvement.

Víhaan contacted Hután too, though for different reasons,

but Hután arrived too late to rescue Rohan. He died

from toxic gas, and as he died, he slowly told Hután

about the remarkable Schedule Víhaan invented,

with abilities so provocative, prodigious,

and rare in its power, and so dangerous in the wrong hands

Hután contacted Udaki who then made their mission

to find and free Víhaan, gain The Schedule, and invite him

to their base, the Andaman Islands, before someone learned how

to use it; since from the intelligence they soon acquired,

even with the greatest resources, intellects, and skills,

no one had figured out how to operate The Schedule

or perhaps hadn’t owned it long enough to know how this

metaphysical AI engine truly worked, which meant

that no one could operate it except Víhaan himself,

a conundrum that also concerned Hután as he drew

his hand from the chip box, containing, he hoped, the true key

to opening The Schedule, and placed the hand in his vest

pocket, grabbed “George,” a do-it-all piece of technology

—phone, camera, media player, laser, locator,

scheduler, chemical analyzer, link, translator,

computer, scan, and weapon—then leaned down to examine

the slick coating more closely—he had nothing else to do—

looking for hints of its history. Marble, he knew well,

always had a secret, particularly black marble,

particularly this much marble, black marble being

so impure, and wondering why—as a bird now whistled

from outside the window and called out a melodic phrase

that seemed to tweet the words ‘Molière, Molière’ loudly

but the words may have been in his head because at the time

he was thinking about marble and a Molière play

where a statue comes to life and threatens the cad Don Juan;[1]

yet why a marble this proud, as proud as Don Juan, rests here

in this shape—not that he expected any images

in Pitworthy’s castle that inspire the humility

Dante saw carved on the marble mountain ledge,[2] not at least

from a man who could have sent messages by other means

but insisted on direct contact on each occasion,

regardless how inconvenient. But still, why didn’t

an artist select this marble of white streaks, with its veins

and thickness, to carve a form that refers to its present

or past occupants and users, an object to express

its daily affairs as Trajan achieved in his column,

or see living forms that a Michelangelo could sculpt

or a Futurist-type sculpture after Boccioni?

Yet when Hután went up and down the rock and recognized

the innate pattern and colors of its eyes that now spoke

to him, a pattern, like all such patterns, that was for him,

as colors were for Kandinsky,[3] connected to music,

one he identified from the same pattern on the block

that poisoned but failed to kill Mustfarris; music could have

resounded in the same way when he first touched the poison.

But this block behaved outwardly, a cold tool of function,

just a petty object bought only to match the mantel

and couch and give the room a unity and symmetry.

The massive marble black snake rebelled from and compromised

its banality and reminded Hután of the work

of the sculptor in a Kung Fu film in which a chamber

in a funeral home was built like a huge coffin

but was of course a trap, a scream, or a bell for battle,

and at the center of this room was the winding counter

beautifully carved in black marble in a dragon shape.

This one object—should a battle come or if a battle

had happened right there in that room—would be stained with blood,

the idea of blood abruptly inspiring Hután

to get off the stool and search around for a sign of blood,

even the smallest drop—he depended on these sudden

unexpected intuitive leaps that reminded him

of the inner power that Galileo and Charles

Peirce had astutely labeled “il lume naturale”[4]—

but then he realized, the Kung Fu film still in his mind,

it was far too late to escape a trap in any case

if someone had wanted to trap him, the windows being

easily accessible, as were the unlocked Entrance

and Exit to the castle, though in fact the home entrance

was within the hall and that entrance was secure enough

to resist a bomb; but the hall door was always open

with nothing important to steal or damage. He could do

whatever he wanted with that long black marble counter

under which he did indeed discover a fresh blood stain,

identified by George as belonging to Mustfarris,

whose fresh blood seemed to imply—he would prefer to say ‘prove’

but that’s perhaps too strong a word, since a careful plotter

could have transported his blood here—Mustfarris may have been

lately sitting at or near the long black marble counter,

the sight of his raw blood prompted Hután to remember

the moment when Mustfarris, choosing to suspend if not

refuse his life as an artist to join the Remnant, said:

“We’ll mingle our blood together in the

earth, from whence we had our being and our

birth,”[5]

and Mustfarris briefly cried, as he should, since he had dreamed

from childhood of becoming a painter but now he knew

it was a dream with nary a chance or hope of ever

coming true. But no man worked harder, had more passion or love

for his dream, no man needed his dream more than Mustfarris.

It was ever thus more poignant to him and to those who

knew him when, after his tears ended, Mustfarris, quoting

the Bard’s words again, not ever thinking that the visit

from Udaki referred to anything possible, said,

“I have had a dream past the wit of man

to say what dream it was.”[6]

But the call came and Mustfarris and Aaron did answer,

did give their promise, did keep their promise, the memory

of the day reminding Hután how he missed those old days,

missed training him under Udaki and working with him,

and the missing made him mad and anxious for Pitworthy

to show himself and explain why he had summoned him

—assuming he did summon—and what the devil the fresh

blood of Mustfarris implied, and how it would come to rest

under the black marble counter; and why, after Hután

secured The Schedule in Krakow, he received a message

to come to the island and this chilly conference room,

an empty numbing lonely space eager for ghosts to haunt

that had the gloomy mood of a recently fought battle

where everyone simply vanished out the open window?

All such questions Herr Warum expected George to answer.

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[1] Moliere (1622-1673), Dom Juan ou Le Festin de Pierre.

[2] Dante (1265-1321), in The Divine Comedy, “Purgatory.”

[3] Kandinsky (1866-1944), Concerning the Spiritual in Art, section V.

[4] Galileo (1564-1642), The Assayer and Charles Peirce (1839-1914), Collected Works, Vol. 1, 630.

[5] From Shakespeare, “Pericles,” Act 1, Scene 2.

[6] From Shakespeare, “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Act 4, Scene 1.

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Setu, April 2025