nobility of drawings in ash and the great whirlwinds of storms.
Hence, one can understand why we were tempted to leave some writing upon the silk in Nanzen, since beauty, nature, and dreams are, if not our exclusive preserve, at least our daily bread.
WHAT WE ARE LOOKING AT
The territory of the elves unfolded before their inner gaze. Just as the perfume of the empty cup had opened the doors of the past to Alejandro and Jesús, the tea had transformed their mental space, and they were partaking of a vision that did not belong to them, but which caused the landscapes of the mists to parade through their minds with fresh new colors.
“There is someone in my head,” murmured Jesús.
The sky was blue or golden, the foliage was bursting with green and tawny colors, mingled with touches of orange and purple; the bowl had taken on a gray patina enhanced with veins of old copper—this renewal filled Alejandro and Jesús with joy, as well as an unexpected nostalgia for the black sky and white trees.
“Once someone has seen the structure of beauty they can never look at things in the same way again,” said Sandro. “I still wonder whether it sharpens your vision or burns your eyes.”
“Where have these visions come from?” asked Jesús. “I feel as if I am simultaneously here and there.”
“From the tea and the good offices of the guardian,” answered Hostus, “who has the power to see what is far from him and to share that vision with us. We are together here and with him there. We can look at what is before us and inside us at the same time.”
“Until now, the Guardians of the Pavilion came to us from the two high families, the wild boars and the hares, who are more powerful in contemplation and in prescience,” said Solon. “The lower houses of squirrels and bears, however, are more lively and agile in action.”
“So squirrels and bears fight better than the others?” asked Jesús, looking at Tagore, who had closed his eyes and did not seem to hear them.
“Not at all,” said Petrus, “wild boars and hares are great warriors. But they’re not great when it comes to their sentimentality, and with them, the urge to fight comes from reasoning, whereas with the squirrels it springs from the enthusiasm in their hearts.”
“If they’re not busy drinking,” said Marcus.
“Along with the bears,” added Petrus.
And to Alejandro:
“The high-elves are the aristocracy of this world, but it doesn’t mean the same thing as in your world. I was a sweeper for much of my life and I am as highly respected as a guardian of the pavilion.”
“Sweeper?” said Jesús.
“Moss sweeper,” said Petrus.
“What makes an aristocrat, then?” asked Jesús.
“He is responsible for others,” answered Solon. “He shoulders the burdens of the community. Having said that, history has shown that certain squirrels have more spirit than all the hares put together, and that they can shoulder burdens that would crush many a wild boar.”
“Is it possible to see any place in the universe from here?” asked Alejandro.
“Any place at all,” replied Solon. “And if you would kindly take a look at what Tagore is about to show you, I will try and tell you the history of the mists.”
“Then, perhaps we could find out what role we have to play in it,” said Jesús.
They all fell silent as yet another landscape unfolded in their minds.
“Katsura,” said the Head of the Council.
Until that moment, trees and mist had succeeded one another with monotonous grace. Now the guardian’s guests could intermittently glimpse wooden pavilions, the outline of high mountains, or even the contours of strange gardens. Then the vision broke through the fog and slowly came to rest at the foot of Katsura. It was a large city surrounded by peaks, with low dwellings set in terraced rows on what should have been the slope of a hill—however, despite their efforts to make what they were seeing conform with what they knew, they were compelled to face facts: Katsura, the capital of the elves, the chief town of the province of Snows, backed onto a void, clung to a flank of mist the way other cities cling to a mountainside. As far as the eye could see, there was a similar magic of landscape and buildings poised upon layers of vapor. The world was afloat on an ethereal gauze and the vast city shone forth, even perched on a void. Never had human eyes gazed upon a more admirable panorama,