The Land of the Setting Sun

The Ceilidh Place. Boston, December 2012

“Is there any bloody chance we can switch this bollocks to something that actually fucking melodic?” Looking over the top of his glasses at the barman, the tall longhaired man growls as he collects the wine bottle from the table. The Pogues continue to blast out of the jukebox “I mean this lot aren’t even bloody Irish, they all met in London and half of them are English”.

“In fine form as always Professor Fallon.” smiling, the Native American pulls up a chair, and looks at the wine Fallon is drinking. “A Shiraz? Doesn’t that get you kicked out of the Celtic brethren, they’ll revoke your funny hand-shake and take away your secret decoder ring.”

“I see you’re back on the fire water the white man sold your tribe for their oil rights Dr Mankiller?” putting down his glass, Fallon has the first genuine smile of the day “And if you weren’t such a small minded American, you’d be aware this is Txakoli, comes from the Basque country in Spain. Fellow Celts.” He places down his book, Dworkin’s A Matter of Principle.

“You’ve been in a mood since Gloucester. No need to take it out on everyone else.” Mankiller took a long draught from his ale, “Its more than just the book going missing. What is it?”

Swirling the wine in his glass, Fallon looked up, “You’re the Theurge, what do you think is up?”

“Well, I’d say woman troubles, although most folks wouldn’t be drinking something more manly. That English vampire you met? Didn’t you call her a thrawn…”

“Hilarious, do you remember any of your past lives.”

“She is from one of yours?” Fallon nods, I think so. "Christ. For us, there are a lot of reasons why you might come back, but you need to persuade Grand Father Thunder of your reasons. I think the first time, I simply hadn’t seen enough, the second time, I wanted vengence for the death of my tribe. That didn’t end well. " he pauses for a minute, “This time, I think I was sent back to learn my lesson. On the upside, at least you lot have stopped shooting at me.” He drinks down his ale , and gestures for another round to come over. “What about you lot? Reincarnation so you can dye yourself blue and get pissed on another continent?”

“I don’t know what the tribe think, but I’ve always suspected that the Karmic cycle makes some sense. The Jiva needs to be reborn to fulfill a debt, Vāsanā to fulfill some huge desire, or to complete some journey, to finalise a Sadhana”. Fallon looks down at his glass, “This feels like it could be any of the above, its as bad as the first time I met Tremayne”

“That bad? I’ll stock up on the Whisky and ammunition then.” Smiling, “We’ve noticed an increase in those remembering, even among kin-folk. Some of the more susperstitious are putting it down to the Millenium but… Oh shit….”

“What’s up?”

“I wouldn’t look up, said your ‘thrawn’ mistress has just entered the bar.”

“Oh you are fucking kidding me, does she just have a death wish or is she just mentally deficient? John – let Night’s Pride know I’ll vouch for them.” Quickly hiding the wine, Mankiller slides the Guinness across to him and pours a Whisky as the Kindred enter.

The Land of the Setting Sun

The Hollow Crown Melanctonsmith