«What DeFazio said to you wasn't far from the truth, you know. Even _as_ ruler of this place, you can create policy and institute some big changes, but unfortunately old ways and believers take a long time to die. No matter how clever or imaginative you are, you'll always be up against certain elements which stupidly refuse to go your way. For me, it's been idiots like Tracy and Stastny Panenka, not to mention Sizzling Thumb who's as old as a rock and just as obtuse.

«The ways I've tried to persuade them! I've gone to them as Jack Chili, as Alvin Williams, as Fire Sandwich . . . you can't believe how I've tried to convince them to come over to my side!

«That's not to say, friend Pepsi, that even if you succeed today, you won't have exactly the same problems facing you tomorrow'. Only your problem will be _my_ followers who, I have to admit, are a dedicated lot.

«You'll have power. But short of killing everyone who disagrees with you – which you co uU do – you'll have to cajole and convince . . . All very boring, but part of the job.»

I found myself relaxing as Chili talked on, as if we were sitting with an old head of state who was reminiscing about his good old days in office. Except that this head of state was still in power and from the tone of his voice, expected to stay there.

«You find the Bones, become ruler and then, if no one else finds the other ones during your term, you are allowed to rule the way you want for five Milans. That's the history of Rondua in a few long sentences. As told by Jack Chili, Alvin Williams, Martio, Fire Sandwich, etcetera.»

«What happens at the end of those five Milans?»

«You take the test and die.»

There was silence for a long time – a silence which Chili used to watch both of us with an unreadable expression on his (on their?) face.

«Why is it called a test, then? Most tests you can either pass or fail.»

«Don't be obnoxious, Cullen. This isn't school; you don't go to history class next.» He had lapsed into Eliot's mimicking voice. «I'm permitting you to stay here, so _don't_ rub me the wrong way. It's called a test because that's what they call it, all right?»

My son was at stake and I had to say more. «All right, but even if you succeed, you only live for five Milans? How long is that?»

«That's none of your business. You had your chance once, but Rondua is only a dream for you now. For us, it's life. Pepsi, you found the five Bones of Smoke, so now you have to take the test. And I must too.

«What you must also realize is that however 'good' or 'bad' you think you are, there's absolutely no telling who will win. There is no sense to the way things are decided. I'm as frightened by this moment as you are.»

Bending forward, he opened both hands and two gigantic pistols appeared. They looked as big as shoeboxes, beautifully black and oiled and sleek.

«Take one.»

Without hesitation, Pepsi chose one. It was too big for his small hand, so he had to hold it up with two.

«Wait!»

Chili's eyes flared and I sat back hard in my chair.

«We put them in our mouths like this.» He opened his mouth wide and slid the barrel in until the trigger loop rested on his bottom lip. Then he took it out again so that he could speak. «You have every reason not to trust me, and I understand that, so I will go first. I'll pull the trigger and you will hear the explosion. But nothing will happen, no _decision_ will be made until both of us have done it. That is the system and if I win, I continue to rule.»

My heart floated cold and dead in my chest. «Pepsi. Pepsi, do you have to do this?»

«Yes, Mom. I have to. Mr. Tracy said there would be something like this at the end; it's the only way things can work out.»

I turned to Chili. «Can I have a minute? Can you give me some time? Some time alone with him?»

«Of course, Mrs. James. Just don't have a fistfight with him, like the clouds did.» The voice was perfect Alvin Williams. Getting up, Chili looked at my son and I knew they understood each other completely in a way I could never understand or be a part of. Chili walked out of the room; in the kitchen, I heard him at the sink drawing a glass of water.

I looked at my son as if I was drowning and in the instant before death, saw our life together flash through my mind. There was nothing I could say. But what did I _want_ to say? Were there real words for love? Words heard that would mean something now, now when all was said and done and almost over?

Pepsi got off the couch, came to me and got down on his knees next to me. He put his head in my lap, his arms around my legs. I touched his hair as gently as I could and began to stroke it. It was so soft and thick – a little boy's hair – tangled and dreamily soft.

Death doesn't make you sad – it makes you empty. That's what's so bad about it. All of your charms and beliefs and funny habits fall fast through a big black hole, and suddenly you know thev're gone because just as suddenly, there's nothing at all left inside.

Funny guys in funny ties,

Wearing helmets, telling lies.

Walk right here, your place is free.

I love you and you love me.

The Song of the Wooden Mice. It was the only thing that came out of my new emptiness, but it was all right and I had enough voice to sing it quietly to my good son Pepsi.

Pressing his head deeper into my lap, he held my legs tightly, so goddamned tightly.

Wooden mice know what's nice;

Sawdust cheese and maple spice.

He was crying and I was his mother and that was all. The only time left to us was this moment.

«You are the best, Pepsi. Everything you've done has made me proud. I'll love you all my life. And if there's anything afterward, I'll love you after I die too. Do you understand me?»

«Yes, Mom.»

Chili had come up behind us without making a sound. Now he belched loudly.

«Let's go.»

Pepsi started to get up, but he stumbled on my foot and fell against me.

«Get up! Stop messing around! Take the gun and let's go.» Chili's voice was much higher; it was someone else's voice, someone I didn't know. He was scared too.

They sat on either side of the couch and Chili put the pistol inside his mouth and waited. Pepsi tried to do the same thing, but the gun was way too big and he gagged trying to put it as far down his throat.

«Just put it _in_ your mouth, Stupid! Don't waste my time!»

Pepsi closed his mouth and swallowed. Opening it again, he did what Chili ordered.

«As I said, I'll go first.»

There wasn't even time to look. The blast from Chili's gun filled the room completely.

I whipped my head his way as the second explosion came. I screamed, «Pepsi!» just as my eyes found Jack Chili. . . .

Who looked exactly the same as he had an instant before.