Ozark Trilogy 3: And Then There'll Be Fireworks (12 page)

“You’re to stay here,” said the Attendant.

“I’m to stay here? That’s it? That’s your urgent message?”

“Because Miss Silverweb’s coming,” he told her. “She wasn’t quite ready to leave when I was, and she couldn’t of kept up with me if she had been, I’m sure—I was told to ride hard all the way and not spare the Mule or me either one. But she says you’re to stay right here until she gets here, never mind how anxious you are to leave, and never mind how much there’s people encouraging you on your way.”

“Miss Silverweb said that?”

“Yes, miss. And her mother as well.”

“Hmmmph.”

Troublesome gnawed on her braid, and the Grannys stopped their rocking, and Granny Hazelbide pointed out that considering the number of days she’d lost already another one couldn’t do much harm. Or another two.

“Did she say
why
?” Troublesome asked the Attendant.

“Miss?”

“Did either of those women say
why
I was to wait?” asked Troublesome impatiently. “I can’t see much point to it myself. I don’t even
know
Silverweb of McDaniels, except that I believe I changed one of her diapers once. She for sure does not know
me
. Why should I wait for her?”

“Well,” said the Attendant, “I can’t say as I understand it. But I can tell you what they said to me.”

“You do that, then,” said Troublesome.

“Miss Silverweb, she said I was to tell you just this: you stay here, because she knows how to wake up Miss Responsible, but she needs your help to do it. And that’s all.”

The silence went on and on, and the Attendant leaned more and more obviously on the servingmaid, who fortunately showed no sign of collapsing under the strain, and when Troublesome spoke at last her voice was hesitant.

“You say that Silverweb of McDaniels knows how to wake my sister ...”

“So she claims, miss. I’m just passing it on, as I was bid.”

Troublesome turned to the Grannys.

“Well?” she asked them. “Is it likely? You know the girl ... any reason she should know what nine Magicians of Rank
don’t?
”

“Miss Silverweb’ll be here by morning at the latest,” pleaded the Attendant. “And if I’ve got here and told you, and you’re gone on anyway, I won’t dare go back, I can tell you. Missus Anne was
most
particular about that. ‘If she doesn’t wait for Miss Silverweb, don’t you bother coming back here,’ she said to me. And I’ve worked there, and done my job
right
, more’n six years now. Shows where hard work won’t get you.”

“Troublesome,” said Granny Gableframe, speaking right up, “I can’t say honestly I know any reason why you should stay. Rumor is, Silverweb of McDaniels’ gone some kind of religious lunatic, shut up all the time in an attic praying and carrying on. Not that I don’t hold with prayer, mind you, indeed I do, in its place—but they say Silverweb carries it to and beyond extremes. On the other hand, reason or no, what’s the harm? What’s one more day to you? You’ve got no appointments to keep on your mountain, what’s a few hours more or less at Brightwater?”

Troublesome gave it a minute or two for real, and a minute or two for tormenting them, and then she nodded slowly, and the Attendant went limp with relief and very nearly did fall down.

“All right,” said Troublesome. “I don’t suppose it can make any difference; and I don’t mind admitting I’m curious. I’ll wait for the child. Pray with her if need be.”

“She’s no child. Miss Troublesome,” said the Attendant, very serious in spite of his exhaustion. “You wait till you see her—that’s no child, nor ever will be again. Nor no woman, either.”

“Well, what is she, then?”

“You’d best wait and see for yourself,” the Attendant said, and that appearing to be all he could manage, that Grannys motioned for the servingmaid to take him away. Which she did, murmuring soothing words to him all the way down the corridor.

“Youall don’t know anything about this?” demanded Troublesome, arms akimbo. “This is no Granny mischief, cooked up between you?”

“Honestly,” said Gableframe. “How you talk.”

“Your word on it or off I go this minute,” declared Troublesome.

“Phooey,” said Granny Gableframe right back at her. “It’ll be a fine day when I give you my word on anything. As soon give my word to my elbow. And who are
you
to doubt a Granny’s word?”

“Troublesome,” put in Granny Hazelbide hastily, “I’m with Gableframe on that. But you said you’d stay. And you know this is no scheme we planned for you. We’ve got no heart these days for schemes. Leave off your nonsense, now, and keep
your
word.”

“And so I will,” said Troublesome. “I beg your pardon, I forget sometimes the way things have changed in this world. Up on that mountain ... I don’t see it the way youall have to.”

“Understandable,” said Granny Gableframe. “Not natural; but understandable.”

“I suppose they’ll make me sleep in the stable,” Troublesome fussed.

“I’ll put you up in my own room if they try it,” said Granny Hazelbide. “I’m not afraid of you, and that Twelve Gates knows I’m
used
to you.”

“I’d rather stay in the stable.”

“Suit yourself. Just so’s you stay.”

“
My
word on it, to you and to my elbow,” said Troublesome solemnly, crossing her heart elaborately with one finger. “I’ll wait for little Silverweb and see what she’s got to offer.”

There was no order to it, when it happened—it happened everywhere, all at once, all at the same time. Twelve Castles there were on Ozark, and not one was overlooked or granted a delay. Nine Magicians of Rank as well, spread around over the planet, and they were stricken all together, with a unity that they had known before only on that single occasion when they had joined forces against Responsible of Brightwater.

Veritas Truebreed Motley the 4
^th
was the only Magician of Rank on the continent of Marktwain, and the course of events was so swift that he heard only the first scream from outside the Castle walls before he was literally thrown to the floor with his hands pressed desperately to a head that he was sure would burst ... he could hear nothing more after that but the message exploding there.

The ordinary citizens and the Grannys were spared that penalty; the Magicians felt only a sudden nagging headache, nothing out of the way. For them, unlike the Magicians of Rank, the problem was not what was in their heads but what was in the sky.

Above Castle Brightwater, suspended well out of reach of ordinary weapons but easily within sight of the eye, a giant crystal had appeared, spinning slowly on its point for just a moment before it stopped and hung there motionless above them.

It looked to be one hundred feet from tip to tip, stretching straight up, though it was hard to be sure without knowing exactly what its distance was from any object of reference. And it was in the shape of a flawless diamond, perfect in its symmetry, perfect in its utter transparentness. It would have been invisible, in fact, except that from some angles it acted as a prism and cast huge rainbows over the land and buildings beneath it, turning the countryside to a fairyland of glorious color. It made no sound at all. It came from nowhere and nothing held it in its place, nothing that could be seen. It was beautiful, and mysterious, and wholly terrifying.

The Grannys heard that screaming and ran out onto a balcony to see what the commotion was about
this
time, took one horrified look at the thing, and ran even faster after Veritas Truebreed. By the time they reached him he was aware that similar scenes were taking place at every one of the Twelve Castles, and he wished himself anywhere else in the Universe ... preferably at the bottom of the sea. Any sea.

“Veritas Truebreed Motley,” fussed Granny Gableframe when they found him, “whatever in this world are you doing? A lot of help
you
are, rolling on the floor and carrying on with that carry-on! You have colic or what? Get up and come see what’s arrived this day to brighten the corners where we are ... might could be you could be of some use at last!”

When that didn’t budge him from the niche he had managed to thrash his way into, or bring him out of the position of tight-coiled agony he was twisted into, the Grannys knelt beside him and began an expert probing. He screamed louder, and begged them not to touch him, and if he had not been paralyzed with pain they would not have been able to stop his frenzied efforts to smash his brains out against the stone walls of the Castle.

“Men,” said Gableframe. “Always there when you need them.”

“Veritas?” Granny Hazelbide stood up and poked him with her shoe. “You stop that caterwauling, you hear me? I know you can hear me, don’t you make out you can’t!”

As a matter of actual fact, he could
not
hear her over the din in his head. He could see her mouth moving, and his long experience with Grannys gave him an excellent idea of what the two of them must be saying, but they might as well have been in the next county for all that he was able to hear of their bad-mouthing. There was only
one
sound, and it filled all his perceptions, and it was surely going to be the death of him unless he somehow got help. He had time to wonder, through his agony, how Lincoln Parradyne was faring at Castle Smith, where the “Granny” in residence was only an old woman hired by the Magician of Rank to placate the Family when Granny Gableframe walked out on them to move to Castle Brightwater. Veritas Truebreed had sense enough left to know that nobody but a Granny was likely to be able to help any of them.

One word, Veritas,
he was screaming at himself silently, trying to get through the unbearable waves of noise,
you’ve got to say one word! Only one word!

Granny Hazelbide poked at him again disgustedly with the tip of one pointy-toed black high-heeled shoe, and was just getting ready to draw back her foot for an actual kick when he finally succeeded in croaking out that word. And it brought both old women to rigid attention as if it had been a Charm and a Spell and a Transformation all combined into one. The sound that had come out of Veritas’ mouth, strangled and deformed but comprehensible, was the word “Mules!” And once again, before he went back to the howling that was completely unlike the cries from outside—those were only terror—he said it. “
Mules!
”

“Mules,” repeated the Grannys, looking at one another. “Do you suppose ...”

“I do,” said Granny Gableframe. “What else could do that?”

“Maybe that thing hanging over our heads,” said Granny Hazelbide grimly, pointing up at the ceiling and tapping her foot to a smart beat ‘Two sharp ends it’s got like a double needle, and no knowing what it can do.”

“Well, we can’t talk to
it
, Hazelbide,” snorted Granny Gableframe, “that’s for sure. And the Twelve Gates only knows what will happen if one of those scared sick lunatics out there takes it into his head to shoot at the thing with a laser ... likely to mean the end of all of us, and nothing left where Ozark was but a puff of dust, if that happens. The Mules, on the other hand, we could talk to.”

“Gableframe ...”

“I said
talk
to! Not either one of us is equipped to do any mindspeaking, and the Mules know that full well. I mean
talk
, ordinary tongue-and-mouth-and-teeth talk.”

“What makes you think they’ll listen?”

“Hazelbide, you have brains in that head or pudding?” Granny Gableframe was clear out of temper. “Stand there and go wurra-wurra like that poor fool on the floor if you like, but any ninny can see there’s no way of talking to that ... creation ... up in the air, and the only clue we’ve got is what Veritas said, and I intend to hightail it for the stables!”

Granny Hazelbide knew sense when she heard it; she followed the other without a word, and without a glance behind her for the Magician of Rank in his awesome misery. She was only sorry there wasn’t time to look for Troublesome and make her go along with them.

At the stables, they found the Mules standing in ominous silence. If the expressions on their faces could be interpreted in any human framework, they looked both grim and determined. In any framework, they had their attention fully occupied with something.

Granny Gableframe marched up to Sterling, the best creature in the stable, and said howdydo and she’d like it to listen to her. And when that had no effect, she whacked it smartly right between the eyes.

“You, Mule!” said Gableframe. “I want a word with you, and I
do
know that you can understand me just fine!”

Sterling rolled her eyes and laid back her ears, and Granny Gableframe whacked her again. She’d never thought to see the day she’d be dealing with a hysterical
Mule
.

“You want to listen polite-like and of your own free will, that’s fine with me,” said the old lady. “I’ll be polite, too, as is proper, it pleasures me not atall to abuse any creature. But if you’d rather do it the hard way, I’m prepared for that, and I
do
intend to have you hear me.”

“You think that’ll work?” asked Granny Hazelbide, tapping her nose with her pointing finger. “It was always Responsible as talked to the Mules, and she had a mighty different approach to it.”

“You have a better idea?”

“
No
-sir, you go right to it. And I’ll try another one,” said Granny Hazelbide, and went off to make her word good.