The Family Tree (26 page)

“You got some time?”

Phil said, “Sure. I mean, we’re still working on the
Winston thing. Everybody loved the guy, so up till now we haven’t found a motive, much less an idea who. We’ve got a—”

He’d been going to say that they had a new lead, but the captain interrupted. “Could you and Dora see this woman? The uniforms are two or three hours behind, responding to emergencies, people trapped or hurt or lost. Lots of people are lost. This woman has a baby gone. Disappeared.”

“Kidnapped?” Dora asked.

“She just says gone. Go out there, will you?”

Dora grabbed the dogeared city map and they went. Phil drove and she counted streets. They stopped once or twice to pull growth away from street signs so they could read them, and they had to walk the last three blocks. Phil left the engine running and the lights on.

“You mean to do that?” she asked him.

“Guys downstairs say if you leave the engine on, the trees don’t grow up around it,” he said. “Firetrucks found that out. You leave something running, they leave it alone.”

The woman was waiting for them on the front porch, largely pregnant, sitting among a cluster of shiny-faced children. Five, Dora counted, all under school age.

“You’re Mrs. Holmes?”

The woman nodded, wiping her eyes with the hem of her dress. “Alesha’s gone,” she said. “I put her in her crib while she had her bottle. She usually plays there by her own self for a while, until Bobby and Francis get off to school and the others get fed. I went to get her and she’s gone.”

“Let us see the room,” said Phil. “Where she was.”

They went into the house, through a clean but cluttered living room and into a long hall with doors down both sides. The second door on the right was open, and they went in to see a crib and a double bed. “This is the girls’ room,” the woman said wearily. “We had more bedrooms, but the trees took the others. We didn’t even have a chance to get the beds out.”

“How many girls?” asked Dora, in a hushed voice.

“Four. The baby and these three,” she said, indicating the three small children who had seated themselves on the bed. The fourth and fifth child stood in the door. “Four boys. Those two and Bobby and Francis. They’ve got one room, too. Jake wants us to have a football team, eleven boys, so we had six bedrooms and the sleeping porch out back, but that’s all the trees left us—three bedrooms. One for the boys, one for the girls, and one for Jake and me.”

Dora tried the windows, which were locked. She went down the hall, opening the other doors, finding forest outside three of them on the left, a bathroom and two other bedrooms on the right, forest outside the door at the end of the hall. Even though there were sizeable trees just outside the left-hand doors, there was enough space for a person to have come in between them and entered the house. Anyone could have. Dora didn’t think anyone had.

“Jake says he’ll nail them shut,” said the woman from close behind her. “He just hasn’t got to it yet.”

Phil asked about the baby, age, weight, how dressed. Dora wrote it all down. She asked for a photograph and the woman came up with a fuzzy polaroid shot of a stout little pajamaed figure standing up in her crib, grinning toothlessly beneath a single upturned flip of light hair.

Then they hiked back to the car and sat in it, stunned.

“It’s like Charlene’s boss told her,” said Phil, at last. “The woods just kind of ate parts of the house.”

“It left them one bedroom for the boys, one for the girls, and one for the adults,” said Dora. “Maybe that’s all it figures people need.”

“Some places in the world, a family’d live all in one room,” Phil said. “You know. Like on the Discovery Channel. Or
National Geographic
. Those tribes along the Amazon. They don’t even have beds, just hammocks. Or grass mats.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Maybe this is just the first step.”

“You and Charlene still have a guest room?”

“The dogs sleep in the guest room, and it was still there this morning when Charlene took them out for their walk.”

“Let’s get back to the office. I want to call Abby McCord.”

She did call Abby, finding him in his own office. She’d planned to tell him about Charlene’s experiences and the missing bedrooms and the missing baby, but first she found herself answering a lengthy interrogation about how she’d slept, and how she felt, and how much Abby had enjoyed the evening, and, and…

Finally he asked, “So, what’s going on?”

Dora told him, then surprised herself by saying, “I think the trees decided that woman had enough children. They’re not going to let her have any more.”

“She has…what did you say? Eight left?”

“Today she does. Plus one in the oven. I have no idea how many she’ll have tomorrow.”

“You think the trees…what? Killed the baby? Ate it, like maybe it ate the cows?”

“Or relocated it. Lots of people want children who don’t have them.”

Long silence. Then a murmur, “Speaking of relocation, would you mind if I relocated to your place tonight? I’ll bring supper.”

Her ears turned warm. She started to say, no, not tonight, too soon, too much, too quick, but the words wouldn’t come. Besides…besides, there were those bad dreams. That was a good enough reason. “I’d really appreciate the company,” she murmured back, feeling the words like honey on her tongue. Oh, God, she was…she was, well, whatever she was!

“About seven,” he almost whispered, over a voice husky with enjoyment. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of first.”

She hung up and stared at the phone, looking up at last to see Phil staring at her.

“What would you appreciate?” he asked.

“Abby and I are having dinner together.”

“I told you!” he crowed. “Nice guy, isn’t he?”

“He’s very nice,” she said, desperately trying to keep her face nice and neutral. “And you were very sweet to think of me, Phil. I take back anything I said to the contrary.”

“Women,” he snorted. “Don’t even know what’s good for you.”

“No,” she agreed. “We’re just like men in that regard.”

He grumbled his way off somewhere, leaving her wondering, what was good for her? She flushed, yet again. Tonight, suppose she said yes. Not that she planned to, but suppose she did. It would not be a good idea to go getting pregnant right off the bat. Getting pregnant would definitely not be a good thing right now.

When Phil went to the men’s room, she called Dr. Silva and said it was an emergency. Her doctor said there’d been a lot of those recently and come over around four.

“What kind of emergencies were you talking about?” Dora asked as she put on her shoes after the exam. “You said you had a lot of them.”

Dr. Rebecca Silva stripped off her gloves and wrote something on the chart in a minuscule hand. “False pregnancies. Women we thought were pregnant who aren’t anymore,” she said. “At last count, I had eleven of them.”

Dora held up her hand like a traffic cop. “Let me see if I can guess. They all have other children, probably more than one.”

Dr. Silva frowned. “Let me think. A couple of them are new patients, it’ll be in their histories, but I don’t remember off hand. The others, the old-timers, yes. I’ve delivered other children. I don’t know, two or three, maybe, but certainly more than one. How did you know that?”

Dora rubbed her brow. “Let me tell you a story, and you tell me what you think. There are these trees, suddenly growing everywhere. At the edges of the town,
any houses that’re left vacant disappear. The trees eat them. Occupied houses, the trees eat any room that isn’t used. In some occupied houses, where there are a lot of children, the trees eat all the bedrooms except three, one for boys, one for girls, one for the adults. I don’t know about grandparents. Or aunts or uncles. Also, where there are large numbers of children, babies disappear…”

“Babies…”

“Disappear. This afternoon, Phil—Phil’s my partner—and I went with a police dog team out to a house on Cayuga, pretty far out, and we had the dog sniff the crib where the baby had been, and then we went out looking for the baby. The dog smelled the trees and the grass and took a drink from the creek and chased a rabbit. This is one of the best tracking dogs known to the department. The guy who trains them, he and his dogs have found people in places you wouldn’t believe, but today, nothing.”

“Well, whoever took the baby probably carried it…”

“Right. And this dog should have been able to smell that. It was moist, but there wasn’t any rain to wash it away, so the smell should have lingered on the air. He didn’t smell anything. Which says to me, the baby didn’t leave the house. Not as a baby.”

“As what?”

“I think the trees ate it. Very gently and peacefully and without hurting it. The kid never yelled. I had eight brothers and sisters, so I figure if it had been hurt, it would have yelled. She would have.”

Dr. Silva looked at her, appalled. “You’re not serious.”

“Right, I’m not serious. So, can I have the pills?”

“Here’s the prescription. I’m still using a virgin spec on you, Dora, which is unusual in this day and at your age. I presume you intend to change your status. Please discuss sexual diseases with the intended. The pills are only for birth control; they won’t protect you against the
bad stuff. At this point in your cycle, you should be okay. Start the pills after your next period. If you don’t get your period within the next week, come see me.” She made a note. “You were just kidding about the baby, weren’t you? I wouldn’t recommend your telling that one where any media reporter can hear you.”

“Right.” Dora smiled again, feeling the falsity of it. A false smile moved your face differently. It felt stretched, as though it weren’t participating. “And you were just kidding about those false pregnancies, weren’t you?”

Dr. Silva’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

P
rince Sahir was terribly annoyed. It was he who had wanted an audience with the emperor, but it was Prince Izakar who got it. It was Prince Sahir whose guards and handlers were so much in evidence, and it was Prince Izzy who was telling them when and where and what for. I could feel the explosion coming. I went in search of Soaz, finding him near the stables.

“Will you please go up there and talk to the two princes?” I begged him. “Prince Izakar is becoming all too authoritative, and Prince Sahir is resenting it. Something is going to blow up, and I can’t imagine it would be wise to have the emperor angry at us just now.”

Soaz made a troubled sound in his throat and went off to see to the two boys while I wandered around the stable yard, kicking bits of umminhi kibble that had been dropped by the grooms. Most of the mounts in the stable were horses, but people like the emperor preferred carriages or chariots, and the umminhi were evidently used to pull the imperial vehicle that stood in the nearby car
riage house, large and golden and carved all over with mythical creatures.

When I thought it was safe, I went back up to the broad terrace outside the palace. Things were a bit quieter, though Sahir was still simmering. Prince Izakar was speaking to him in a conciliatory tone, while Soaz looked on benignly, his armored hand on Izzy’s shoulder, one of the claws just tickling his neck. I wondered if the effect was calculated, deciding it was.

Izzy looked up at me and grinned. “The emperor is giving us two wagons. They’ll be ready tomorrow, and I’ve asked for a meeting with the Seers of Sworp—”

“Thereby delaying us unnecessarily,” said Sahir in his most annoying drawl. “I prefer to leave today. Soaz, will you see to it.”

The air simmered again. Soaz took a deep breath. And then, from under the portico, came a languid voice. “Oh, Prince Sahir. And I was so looking forward to traveling with you.”

“As you shall,” said the prince, gallantly bowing in the countess’s direction.

She was dressed all in pink, with ruffles that fluttered as she said, “Oh, I wish I could. Unfortunately, I’ve made plans here in Gulp for today. Will you let me join you tomorrow, Prince Izakar?”

Izzy looked at me, then at the countess, heaving a deep breath as he replied, “But of course, Countess Elianne….”

“It doesn’t really matter,” grated Sahir in an ungraceful tone. “Tomorrow will do as well.”

“Oh, good,” she replied, giving him a melting glance. “We were such a congenial group. I did hate to see it broken up prematurely.”

The countess smiled, Izzy smiled, even Sahir smiled, going to offer the countess his shoulder to lean upon. She twirled her parasol—which she did not need, it was quite cloudy—and she and Sahir wandered off in the direction, so I supposed, of the gardens.

Soaz sighed. “Sex,” he growled.

“So I’m told,” said Izzy.

“So I’m told, as well,” I giggled, and the two of us went into a fit of laughter while Soaz stared at us out of his amber eyes. Fasal Grun came out of the residence accompanied by two guards, and we became at once serious, bowing to him as he approached. He was easy to respect. He had an almost awesome dignity, and Izzy said the emperor was even more impressive.

“Has it been settled that you leave tomorrow?” he asked in a quiet voice, with only a hint of a growl in it.

“It has, Your Excellence,” said Soaz. “Prince Sahir agrees that the delay will not be inconvenient.”

“Nice of him,” said the viceroy. “Is it true that both he and you, Prince Izakar, were given warnings by the same seeress?”

“We have no way of knowing for sure,” said Izakar. “A woman from Sworp made a prophecy at my birth. She subsequently went into the desert east of Isfoin, where a similar woman gave a reading of the bones to Prince Sahir’s father. She could have been the same woman. That’s one reason I want to meet with the Seeresses of Sworp, to see what they have to say. I don’t know how it works. Do several of them have the same vision? Or do they have separate ones? Is there anything that the rest of them know that would explain about this Great Enigma business?”

“I have no idea,” said Fasal Grun. “The emperor has let it be known that he prefers I not consult the society, but in view of your proposed trip to St. Weel, he has no objection to your doing so.”

“I’m taking Nassif with me,” said Izzy. “Just to make a record of the event.”

Fasal Grun hunched his shoulders, stared at me for a moment, then waved a big hand as though shooing off flies. Evidently he cared not if I accompanied the prince.

Accordingly, we went. One of the palace servants led us to the place, not far from the residence, a shabby old building set in a kind of sculpture park where ornamental poultry stalked about and fountains either played or
dribbled, depending upon their state of repair. We were met at the door by one of the seeresses, as we could tell by her dress. All of them wore high-necked gowns and tall forward curled hats with lappets down the sides. She led us into a central room, a kind of assembly hall, where the benches were arranged in circles, one within another. The central ones were crowded with the members of the society. We went down an aisle into the middle, where we were offered a bench of our own. I sat. Izzy stood, talking quietly with our guide about our reasons for coming.

When they had finished their conversation, the seeress told the others about our trip, why and how it was occasioned and what part the midwife-seeress had had in it, concluding with, “Prince Izakar of Palmia, Prince Sahir of Tavor, together with their companions, wish to consult our society for clarification of the purpose of their journey.”

Silence. No one spoke. All the seeresses sat quietly, eyes closed, some of them rocking a little back and forth, some of them holding hands in pairs or trios, most of them so still it was hard to tell if they were alive. Their robes were all alike, their hats were all alike, even their faces were similar as they were all members of the ponjic tribe, though much leaner than Izzy or I, with more delicate chins and cheekbones.

Izzy came over and sat down beside me. “It may take a long while,” he murmured. “Just relax.”

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“Making their minds empty,” he said. “Evidently these visions simply drop in, as you say the language of the onchiki dropped in, as Countess Elianne says the meaning of the armakfatidi drops in.”

We sat. We waited. After a very long time, the seeress who had shown us in—I was fairly sure it was the same one—took us out into the hall and gave us some tea and biscuits and allowed us to visit the sanitary arrangement. When we had stretched and refreshed ourselves, we went back to our bench, and along about midafternoon the
seeresses began to rouse, to stretch, to make casual remarks to one another, to get up and wander about.

I looked at Izzy, my eyebrows raised, and he returned the look. We had no idea if they had found out anything at all, and we were not enlightened until the group had first dispersed to the tea tables and then, after much drinking and discussion in corners, reassembled.

“There is a threat,” their spokesperson told us. “The threat begins with some person having gone on a journey. This happened in the past, it is nothing that may be prevented, for it has already occurred. The result of this journey is a threat to all our lives, all the people of the world, every nation and every tribe. Various ones of us see this journey taking place, but we cannot understand what we see! There is something about the journey that is strange, weird, contrary to good sense. This may be why our sister called it the Great Enigma.

“We are agreed that the threat may be countered, though we do not know how. Our vision tells us that our sister was correct when she directed the sultan to St. Weel.”

“What did they see?” I whispered to Izzy.

He shook his head at me, but one of the seeresses had heard me. “Child,” she said, “at the end of our seeing we saw this world empty of intelligent life. We saw brute beasts and only they.”

And that was all they told us. Izzy was somewhat downcast, and I didn’t blame him. I put my arms around him and he leaned on my shoulder, cursing in a monotone, quite unlike his usually cheerful self.

I said, “Come, Prince Izakar! We are on an adventure! You must not give way like this. We must be indomitable, as all heroes are.”

“I don’t feel at all heroic,” he said. “So far on this trip, I’ve mostly felt nauseated. Sometimes it’s the magic and sometimes it’s the food, but my stomach doesn’t know the difference.”

“You’ve been eating food prepared by Sahir’s servants,” I said. “It’s too rich for our people. We need
more fruit, more fiber. A bit of stewed kale would set you up. Come now. An upset tummy is no reason for giving way like this.” I shook him a little, as I remembered my father shaking me when I was impossible.

It amused him. He smiled, though a wavering smile, and said, “Acquiring a taste for stewed kale is an enterprise surely to fail, for it’s stuffed full of fiber like reeds on the Giber and tastes like they’d serve it in jail.”

I laughed dutifully, for my father had had a taste both for kale and for the limeriki verse form, and so we walked back to the residence of the viceroy hand in hand, knowing little we had not known that morning. Someone had gone on a journey, and that fatal journey was a risk to us all. Who or why was as far as the stars, and St. Weel was not much closer.