Changer (Athanor) (47 page)

“Done,” Eddie says.

Anson nods.  “Catchy bit, though.  Better hope it doesn’t get out.  It could become a national anthem.”

“Spider…” Arthur begins, indignantly, then, realizing he is being teased, forces himself to relax.  “Let’s not try it just yet, okay?”

“Okay, boss,” Anson laughs a deep round belly laugh.  “That’s okay with me.”

The mansion in Belém is a fine, elegant building that recalls Portuguese tastes in architecture.  Stuccoed white with arched windows and doorways, with flowering vines climbing up pillars to second-story terraces, it might have been from another century if not for discreetly concealed modern improvements.

A manservant, less stocky than the Incas who had attended them aboard the jet but still obviously Indian in his heritage, answers the door and bows deeply as he ushers their group into the entry hall.

“How wonderfully cool!” Vera exclaims.

“Air-conditioning,” Cleonice says, almost apologetically.  “Without some way to reduce the humidity we could not hope to preserve our papers and more delicate equipment.”

Isidro deftly guides them from the hall into a parlor whose long, glass windows look out over a garden that is such a riot of color that it takes a careful look to sort the individual flowers and birds from the general mass.

“We maintain a botanical garden of sorts.  Take care that you don’t go out into it unattended.  Many of the plants have spines or toxic chemicals in their leaves.”

“What if we don’t touch anything?” Amphitrite asks.

“I suppose if you watch out for ants you should be fine.  We try to keep the population down, but ants…  Out in the rain forest they outmass every other animal.”

“Don’t you mean outnumber?” Amphitrite says curiously.

“No,” Isidro smiles like a benevolent teacher trying to discourage an eager student.  “I mean outmass.  There are lots of ants: the
tucandera
whose sting can kill a child or leave a grown man in agony, the
suava
or leaf-cutting ant who can strip a tree or a field or crops, the red fire ant that…”

“Stop!” Amphitrite pleads.  “You’re making my skin crawl.  I don’t think I’ll go out at all.”

With a glance at Isidro that seems to chide him for his excesses, Cleonice turns to their guests.

“We thought that you might be tired after the long flight.  Our thought was that we would let you rest, perhaps take you around Belém if you had the desire, then tomorrow we would take a small plane out to show you the rain forest.”

“We’re surrounded by it now, aren’t we?” Lovern says.

“That’s right.  The mouth of the Amazon River isn’t far.”

Vera yawns.  “Your plan sounds good to me.  After a year in New Mexico, I’ve lost my liking for humidity.”

“I rather like the dampness,” Amphitrite says, “but I could use a rest.  I’m still unaccustomed to moving about without the water’s support.”

“And I will follow the ladies’ preference,” Lovern says gallantly, “although I may take a wander in your gardens.  I’ll keep your warnings in mind.”

“Don’t be startled,” Oswaldo says, looking up from his book for the first time since he arrived in the parlor, “if you hear something large moving around.  We have a few tame anteaters and several monkeys and macaws.  The anteaters will most probably avoid you, but the rest may come begging.”

“That’s good,” Lovern says.  “Do you have any treats?”

“I can get you some,” Oswaldo says, levering himself out of his chair reluctantly.  “Come along to the kitchen.”

Early the next morning when dawn’s comparative coolness still touches the air, they drive out to the private airfield.  The visitors are still somewhat overwhelmed by the whirlwind tour of Belém the night before.  Quietly they board the small plane to which their hosts proudly conduct them.

The amphibious craft’s silver hull is touched up with decorations in green.  Its name,
Caiman
, is written in a curling script alongside the nose.  The interior, while not roomy, is comfortable, with one seat on either side of a narrow aisle.

“We’ll take the pilot and copilot’s seats,” Cleonice explains, “and leave Oswaldo with you in the cabin.  I’m afraid we aren’t well equipped for steward services, but I’ve had the staff pack us a basket with drinks and snacks.”

“Sealed against the ants, I hope,” Amphitrite says, her playfulness not quite hiding her apprehension.

“Always,” Oswaldo assures her.

Takeoff is handled with smooth professionalism.  Rapidly the airfield and Belém itself are swallowed by the spreading green jungle.

“If we had left earlier,” Cleonice says, via the cabin radio, “we could have taken you to where howler monkeys greet the sunrise.  Still, I believe we have wonders enough on today’s agenda.”

“Are we going to the Xingú National Park?” Lovern asks, betraying that he has done some research.

“Not today,” Oswaldo answers.  “Today we are going to areas where just about no one lives.  The Xingú National Park was created as a refuge for the native peoples.  We are taking you to places where no people live and which are, oddly enough, in greater danger because of that.”

Vera, not looking away from the verdant panorama spreading out beneath them, offers, “Because no one lives there, there is no one to protest if the lands are abused.”

“And no one,” Oswaldo agrees, “to act.  The lands are often sold for a few thousand dollars to speculators who often fail in their ventures, at the cost of a great deal of ecological devastation.  At least when the Indians lived in the lands, they made war on invaders.”

There must be a listening device of some sort in the plane’s cabin, for Isidro adds, “To be fair, the depths of the rain forest may not be in as much danger as some ecologists say.  The lands are too wet, too persistently humid, to be inviting.  Much of the clear-cutting is occurring further inland, near Rondônia, for example.”

“And other places,” Cleonice adds.  “The damage may be overestimated, but it exists nonetheless.”

After two hours flight time, Isidro announces.  “We’re going to come down on that broad spot in the river.  Don’t worry—the area isn’t as small as it looks.”

After the
Caiman
has splashed to a landing, Oswaldo produces an inflatable boat large enough to carry them all ashore.

Cleonice looks wistful.  “I’d like to come along, but someone should stay with the plane.”

“I thought you said it was deserted here,” Lovern says, looking at the tangled jungle with suspicion.  Ever since his time in India, he hasn’t particularly cared for places where plants dominate.

“Unpopulated,” Isidro corrects, “but not deserted.  There could be a few stray Indians or some ambitious
garimperios
searching for the next big strike.  Whenever possible we leave someone with the plane and maintain radio contact.”

“Wise,” Vera says, and that rather ends the matter.

With Oswaldo in the bow and Isidro in the stern, the boat is paddled ashore.  Lovern leaps out to help Oswaldo pull it ashore.

“The rain forest,” Isidro says, lecturing even before his feet hit the shore, “is home to countless variety of plants, including many types of orchids.  Some of these are rather disappointing to any but the
aficionado
, but others are lovely enough to make a poet’s heart sing.”

Vera, wiping sweat from her forehead, nods.  Amphitrite, unsurprisingly, is unaffected by the humidity, but Lovern looks sour and wilted.

“Beyond charming poet’s hearts,” Oswaldo adds with a self-depreciating smile, “there are plants with medicinal value.  As the fanatics are fond of saying, perhaps the cure for cancer is being burned away so that some farmer can grow cattle for the American hamburger chains.”

Isidro nods solemnly.  “But we have not brought you here to inundate you with details you could learn by a quick trip to the library.  We want you to see for yourself the surrounding beauties.  Lovern, won’t you stop scowling long enough to admire this princess earring?”

He indicates a red flower that dangles from its parent plant.  It does not take much imagination to envision this floral beauty swinging from the ear of a dusky-hued jungle princess.

Lovern steps toward the flower and almost immediately crumples as if he has been hit solidly in the gut.  He staggers a few steps then falls to his knees, and from there to the damp ground.  When Vera and Amphitrite move to assist him, Oswaldo pulls a handgun from the bag he has been carrying.

“Please stay where you are, ladies.”

They halt.  Oswaldo’s round face is no longer vague and jovial, but filled with ruthless purpose.  There is no doubt that within the poet the Mongol warlord has smoldered.

“We would prefer to have you alive,” Oswaldo continues, “but people die by violence every day in Brazil.  You came into the country without official notice.  You can die without official notice as well.  One of the problems of our particular Accord is that Arthur will be reluctant to search too publicly for you lest he endanger the secrecy to which he is so devoted.”

Vera grabs Amphitrite’s hand when the Sea Queen rages forward a few steps, but she cannot still the other’s words.

“You dare!  I sympathized with you!  Know that the seas will never be safe to you again.”

“I am prepared to take that risk,” Oswaldo says, “as are the others.  Your sympathy is not enough, Your Majesty.  We came to the Review with heartfelt pleas and ample evidence of our serious need.  Instead of help, we got a committee.  We must do more to draw attention to our need.”

“Killing us will not give you what you desire,” Vera says coldly.  “It will only get you removed from the Accord.”

“We do not plan to kill you.”

“And Lovern?”

Oswaldo does not remove his gaze from them, but asks Isidro, “How is the wizard?”

“Out.”  Isidro rises from where he has been binding Lovern’s wrists and ankles with cold-iron manacles.  “And disabled.  The plane ride almost certainly weakened him more than we realized.  Your shamanistic charm has dropped him into a coma.”

“What do you plan to do to us!” Vera exclaims.

Isidro lifts Lovern into a fireman’s carry over his shoulder.  “We are going to strand you here.  If Arthur will agree to certain of our policies, we will notify him where you can be found.  We will even come to retrieve you ourselves.”

Amphitrite spits at him.  “Bring a gun or three, or I will have your eyes!”

“I will so remember, Your Majesty.”  Isidro’s slight bow is mocking.  “If he does not agree, you will be left here and Arthur can deal with the fury of Duppy Jonah and of all those who have come to respect and admire Vera.”

“And what is to keep us from taking vengeance on you once we are free?” Vera asks.  Her face is full of cold fury, reminding them all of the pitiless maiden goddess who would not forgive Troy her slighting by one nearly forgotten prince.

“We are prepared to accept some risks,” Isidro says.  “Our Cause is greater than ourselves.”

Oswaldo nods and gestures with his head toward the shore.  “Take Lovern to the boat.  Cleonice is waiting.”

“And I’ll bring back the supplies,” Isidro agrees.

Vera and Amphitrite are too aware of the delicacy of their situation to attack Oswaldo once he is alone.  Even if they managed to fell him, they would still need to deal with both Isidro and Cleonice.  Lovern, incapacitated as only an ironbound wizard can be, has become hostage to their good behavior, as they will be to Arthur’s.

When Isidro returns, he has two small packs slung over one arm and a gun in his free hand.  From one pocket he takes a piece of rope.

“Over to that tree,” he says, gesturing to a tree.  “Put your backs to it and your hands toward each other.”

“Why?” Vera says angrily.

“Because I will shoot you in the foot if you do not.”

Amphitrite glances at Vera, who shrugs.  They walk to the tree and stand as ordered.

“I will tie your hands,” Isidro says, looping the packs over a branch, “in such a fashion that you should be able to work free within a few minutes.  I merely take this precaution so that Oswaldo and I will be able to make our departure.”

“Bastard,” Vera mutters.

“Aren’t we all,” he agrees.  “There are knives and other survival tools in the packs, including lightweight hammocks.  I do not suggest that you sleep on the ground.  Moreover, there is a short guidebook listing the most dangerous plants and animals as well as a description of various things that you can eat.  If in doubt, I suggest that you try something else.”