Land of Unreason (25 page)

            Barber put his sword just
inside the gate as directed and followed the King. The "my lord" was
a new form of address but jangled a pleasantly responsive chord somewhere in
his mind. Within the castle their footsteps went echoing through great passages
of undressed stone, taller than those of the Kobold Caverns, but almost as
dank. There were spiderwebs everywhere, and less pleasant insects crawling
about. When they came to a great hall whose walls bore faded and molder-ing
tapestries, Oberon dismissed the court with a word and led on, up a circular
stone staircase to the battlements. The dawnlight was growing and a chill wind
had come up with it, that wrenched at their bodies as Barber told his story.

            "So she saw in you the
destined redbeard," said Oberon, when he had finished." 'Tis a thing
to think on; must ask Imponens, whose counsel in such affairs is never less
than good, though somewhat vinegar'd with pessimism of late. Yet it could be,
and being solve the sorrows of—"

            Something hit Barber
violently in the back, tumbling him right through one of the crenels in the
battlement. He had one glimpse of young Gosh's snarling face, heard Oberon's
startled shout, and the wind whistled past as the toothlike rocks below swam up
to receive him.

            There was a heart-stopping
instant of terror before Barber remembered and spread his wings. They bore; he
leveled out in a long sweeping catenary, and beat his way back to the parapet.
Oberon was trying to get at the boy, who was wrapping himself in Titania's
skirts for protection. Barber made a quick estimate of speed, distance and
windage, fluttered his wings twice for altitude, and glided in.

            Gosh saw him coming, and
left his hiding place to run, but Barber swooped in, swinging the wand with
both hands like a bat, to bring it across the boy's shoulders. If it broke every
bone in the young imp's body he would be only too pleased.

            The wand met only the
slightest resistance. Then Gosh was not there, and Barber, thrown off balance
by the strength of his own blow, swept into a stumbling landing.

            "Whither went he?"
cried Titania. "You villain, you puling thrip, if you've destroyed him,
I'll—"

            "You'll do precisely
nothing, madam," Oberon cut in. "An he were destroyed, 'twere a bad
world rid of worse rubbish, but 'tis not so. There he stands, by power of the
wand and 's own character given his proper form at last."

            He pointed to the battlement
beside Titania, and the others, turning, saw a crocodile about a foot and a
half long, which opened its jaws to emit a faint sound like "Urk!"
and started across the paving at a brisk clockworky waddle.

            Titania snatched up the
reptile. "Poor Chandra!" she said, contriving in some odd manner to
be both pathetic and ridiculous without in the least losing her character of
queenliness. "Oh, I could smile to see them die that bring these shapings
on us." She coddled the thing in her arms like a baby and Barber was
surprised to see two big tears oozing from its eyes along its scaly face.
"I—" began Titania, when the memory of a legend clicked in Barber's
brain. Absurd where he came from, it was probably true here. "Drop it,
quick!" he shouted, "it's going to bite!"

            Titania did not quite drop
the animal, but as she half jerked it away its teeth met with a snap, half an
inch from her nose. "Gramercy for your warning, philosophic Barber,"
she said.

            Barber bowed: "If I may
offer a suggestion to Your Resplendency, you can keep your little playmate very
comfortable till he gets his shape back by putting him in a pan with water and
a rock he can crawl out on. Your Resplendency can feed him once or twice a week
on chopped raw meat."

            Titania gazed at him
suspiciously for a moment, then, "I'll do it, straight," she said,
and hurried for the stairs, holding her pet at arm's length, with its legs
revolving. Oberon chuckled; Barber somehow could not find her distress very
funny.

            But the King was plucking
him by the sleeve. "We've matters of state to confer on," he said.
"Harkee, my lord Barber, I do count you a true man."

            "I hope—"

            "Tush, take it not
amiss; we're surrounded by treacheries in these evil times. Why, the very
cocking-wenches play at Judas— Hold, where were we? I have't; these villain
shapings—secret of statecraft is let nought distract ..." His voice
trailed off and he paced the paving, hands behind back, wagging his head to and
fro, then turned suddenly and gripped Barber hard by both elbows.

            "I'm in some sort an
usurper," he declared fiercely. "Make the worst of it; say I seized
the throne and the lady. She loved me true and I her; we mutually do still, I
swear it. Will you hold me the less for that?"

            "Why, no, of course
not," said Barber, mystified, but supposing this was what he ought to
reply.

            "Well then, what would
you? My lady's gay and lives for pleasure in herself and those about her. Under
her regiment we had a realm here like your own mortal world in its laws
physical, save for slight changes such as lacking the power of iron ... Look
how yon bat sails widdershins around that tower— another presage of disaster
I" He flung out an arm to point, then turned to Barber again:

            "So it was all gaiety,
high pleasure and good converse at court, but beyond it, misery—rievings,
slayings and black magic, hideous things done, as you have traces of among your
own people. Is't not so, you've heard some tale how they met on a mountain with
bloody rites?"

            "Like voodoo at the
Walpurgis Night?"

            "Aye: and they're good
history of the black days ere I wedded Titania and 'stablished a new sovranty.

            But these anarchies and
nightmares, I put them down with the strong arm—I. With the aid of Sylvester
and the giving of my heart's best blood I made a great conjuring that may not
be repeated; set the laws fundamental of this realm so that happiness should be
our constant companion. 'Twas not enough; there are those whose only happiness
lies in their own aggrandizement."

            He stopped and looked out
across the waste of rock. The sun had reached the horizon now and was throwing
level ruddy beams across pillar and buttress and spire, but it drew no
answering fire from those heartless cold pitches of frozen lava. They lay
inert, high lights and shadows alike gray and deadly. Barber cleared his
throat. "Do you mean those laws of conduct I've heard about? I wish—"

            "Aye. Conduct. There's
the key—would you not say? Sylvester and I, we sublimated in a manner the laws
natural to these others, so that none could give joy, for example, without
receiving it in turn—set a rein on all furious passions ... Mistake ..."
He turned and gripped Barber by the arm again. "Good Barber, will you make
alliance with an old man and old king whose web is near spun?"

            "What, me? Why? I
thought I was working for you, sir. What—"

            "So, let it slip."
Oberon passed a hand across his forehead as though to brush something away.
"I had not meant to ask you so early. Let it slip; my mind is all adossed.
We'll to bed and treat with Imponens present, who can see deeper into a
millstone than most."

            He led the way to the stairs
and whistled for a servant. The one who came had the big head and pop eyes of
an idiot and teeth that hung over his lower lip. He breathed with his mouth,
blowing little bubbles.

            The room to which this
creature led Barber was tall, but narrow, with a single high window and rusty
damp-streaks down the walls. The bed was hard, and Barber, who had never tried
to sleep in wings before, found such difficulty in arranging his limbs that he
had no more than closed eyes when he was awakened by a strident "Krawk!"
and looked up to see a big black bird on the window sill with moonbeams
streaming past it. Somewhere below in the castle a bell was tolling with
muffled, slow persistence.

            Barber's head ached and his
mouth held a taste like the hangover from a three-day drunk, but there seemed
little use in trying to sleep any more, as both bird and bell kept up their
noise. He dressed in a foul mood; "Krawk!" said the bird as he
handled each garment, cocking its head and inspecting him with embarrassing
thoroughness. He thought of flying up and shooing it away, but the room was
hardly wide enough for the spread of his wings, so he compromised by yelling
"Beat it!" and went down to the hall.

            Oberon and Titania were
seated at breakfast as in that other hall, but there were no winged fairies
visible and the correct frog footmen had disappeared. Instead there was a
throng of the exaggerated people he had seen the night before; they stumbled
over one another trying to serve the King and Queen, and the bell in the
background donged steadily. The King looked up at Barber's entrance.

            "A chair of pretense,
ho! for Barber!" he called, and motioned to a place by his right at the
table. It was forthcoming after a little commotion and Barber sat down to
breakfast whose flavor was not improved by the sight of a pair of cockroaches
holding a conference in the center of the table. Oberon waited courteously
enough till he pushed away his plate.

            "Now let's to
business," said the King. "Here be deep matters. A weird lies on
us—implacable, no escape within our—" his eye caught the
cockroaches—"within our—faugh! what foulness! Imponens, unriddle this
matter of our good cousin, Barber. What is't we wish to say?"

            "Doubtless that we gave
ourselves to delight while the Enemy to strivings, Your Radiance. But 'twill
not mend a broken bone to see where it's fractured."

            "Pox on your counsel of
despair. Are we dogs to lick in gratitude the punishing hand? No: we're as foul
as those that challenge this fair land an we not challenge them in turn."

            "But, Your Radiance, we
lack the power—" Imponens began to protest, but Oberon cut him short:

            "And have we not here
one that possesses all means needful? Our Barber, our war-duke and champion,
who'll not be bound by—"

            Titania cleared her throat.
"My Lord," she said, "you do but rant and wander from the
purpose. Look, Barber, here's what he would say, these witcheries my Lord King
put down when he were united, they have made a great resurgence."

            Barber managed to get a word
in edgewise. "Will you pardon me if I say I don't understand? Whom are you
talking about? Who's responsible for these troubles?"

            There was a silence. Titania
and Oberon looked at each other, and it was the brownie philosopher who finally
spoke: "You pose, Sir Barber, the question of the ages, one ineluctable.
For if I answer in detail: the kobolds, then you are well answered, since those
cattle did grievously vex this realm in ancient days, and you yourself are but
come from hindering a new vexation. Yet, 'twill not be the kobolds, neither;
for their two excursions are separated by so wide a gap as memory can barely
bridge, and in that interval they have been the best of subjects and citizens,
cheerful, apt to every task, and I make no doubt will be again, now that you
have knocked down their high pretensions.

            "Shall I say the fays,
then, for deserting the court?

            Nay; they're lighthearted
aerial creatures who give and receive pleasure, will be a joy wherever the laws
of Oberon run.

            "Those who bring these
shapings on us? At the moment, my art tells me it may be those Princes of the
Ice which erst were our good friends and well-wishers. Yet if they be destroyed
their ambition will but pass to other hands and in the end be unconquerable. What
boots it, then, to struggle—"

            Titania rapped sharply on
the table with her knife. "I'll not hear such traitorous doctrine!"
she cried. "Give him no thought, Barber; we live in today and not i'the
ages, whereas 'tis every philosopher's maggot to imagine himself thinking for
eternity. Here's the present problem: someone, it may be those Princes of the
Ice our lick-pudding counselor thinks, has found the gap in the laws that guard
this land. By constitution its physical forms are somewhat unstable; well then,
these enemies who seek to rule raise spells to produce shapings and still more,
till our whole surrounding is gone hideous. Our joy fled with the fays who
cannot bear such ugliness; they hope to cramp us and drive us with unpalatable
circumstance till we even break our own laws of conduct, the reign slip from
our hands, which they hope to seize."