The Ozark trilogy (74 page)

“And if I had four wheels I’d be a tin lizzy. Calm down and let him talk ... he’ll get around to it. Eventually.”

He did.

“It seems,” he said slowly, “according to the Mules, it seems that thing you refer to as a chandelier-bobble is a kind of mechanism for the focusing of energy. It pulls in energy and concentrates it ... and stores it.”

“To do what with?”

“Just a minute ...” Veritas Truebreed wiped his brow with the back of a shaking hand. “I’ve got to sit down.”

Granny Gableframe clucked her tongue and told him not to be such a sissy, but he sat down all the same.

“The Mules tell me,” he said when he was settled, “that there is a group of planets not too far away from here that is called the Garnet Ring; and that their representatives—something called the Out-Cabal, and according to the Mules you’ll be able to fill me in on that, and I will assuredly be interested in knowing
why
—that their representatives have been keeping an eye on us for some time. The crystal out there is sent by the Garnet Ring, on the basis of information reported back by this ... Out-Cabal ... and the Mules say there’s one just like it over each of the Castles of Ozark.”

“Ohhhh dear!” cried Granny Hazelbide. “Oh my! That is a predicament, for sure and for certain!”

“Indeed it is,” echoed Granny Gableframe. “They tell you anything more, Veritas Truebreed?”

“I got the distinct impression,” he snapped at her, “that you two knew more about this than they did.”

“Not accurate,” said Gableframe. “Not precisely.”

“
Isn’t
it? According to the Mules— “

“You believe a passel of pack animals, Veritas, or you believe two respectable Ozark Grannys?”

“After what they did to me? Those ‘pack animals’ you mention? I believe
them!
” The Magician of Rank was furious, and beginning to feel more himself. “It’s more than clear that some very important information has been kept from the Magicians of Rank by the Grannys of Ozark for hundreds of years—information that might well have been crucial to the running of this planet—and I want you to know that I resent it, and that
steps will be taken!
”

“You don’t say?” Granny Gableframe said. “What do you have in what’s left of your mind, Mister Highandmighty? You without so much as a Housekeeping Spell on hand! You get your powers back ... such as they were, such
as they
were ... and then you can prattle about taking steps. In the meantime, you mind your mouth.”

“
You
are an unpleasant old woman,” said the Magician of Rank.

“Grannys are supposed to be unpleasant old women,” retorted Gableframe. “You want something young and willing, you don’t go looking for a Granny. Now what I’d like to know is how long that thing’s going to be a part of our sky out there and what it’s intended to do to us. If you know, we’d appreciate you spitting it out.”

And then she muttered, “Oh, law, it heard me!” as a sudden pulsing ... not exactly a sound, more a kind of powerful vibration that thrummed in the stone walls and floors ... began. “I suppose that’s it, warming up,” she said.

“I suppose so too,” said Veritas Truebreed. “How would I know? Until this accursed day, I had never heard of an Out-Cabal. Nor a Garnet Ring. You ladies have minded
your
mouths admirably.”

“It was our duty to do so,” said Granny Gableframe. “Quit your complaining over things you admit you don’t know any more about than the doorknob does.”

“The Mules say,” Veritas Truebreed sighed, “that this planet is about to be taken over by the Garnet Ring. We are, they tell me, now ‘eligible’—that’s the way they put it—to be so treated. The crystals will remain where they are, doing whatever that is they’re doing, until they are fully charged. And then, I am assured, we will be unable to resist this Garnet Ring. And I suppose it’s true?”

“Could we do anything like those crystals?” asked the Grannys in one voice.

“They might could be only an illusion,” added Granny Hazelbide. “I’ve seen you Magicians of Rank do some fancy things along that line, in my time.”

Veritas Truebreed shook his head. “The Mules tell me they’re real, and that they’re as powerful as the Out-Cabal says they are, and that they can do what they claim. Now
you
tell
me
if the Mules are likely to know what they’re talking about.”

“Well, it’s misery,” said Granny Gableframe, “Just plain misery—but we have no reason to think they don’t. And plenty to think they do.”

“Then we know where we are,” he said wearily.

“Do we know how much time we have?”

“We have whatever time it takes until those things are ‘fully charged’ like I said before. That’s all the Mules knew.”

“Well,” asked Granny Hazelbide, “what do you plan to do?”

“Me? I plan to go lie down and not move my head until the Out-Cabal comes to cut it off.”

“My,
that’s
impressive!” scoffed the Granny. “You expect a medal for that, do you?”

“Be reasonable!” shouted the Magician of Rank, and winced at what it did to his aching head. “As you so politely pointed out to me, not three minutes ago, I haven’t a Housekeeping Spell to my name. What do you
expect
me to do?”

“There are a lot of people out there,” said the Granny, “as are frightened half to death. They’re not as accustomed to wonders and marvels as you are, not by a long sight. And they respect you, magic or no magic. I’ll thank you to go get on the comset and spread the word—in some suitable form. I don’t believe I’d tell them what you just told us, not quite yet. Just get on there and tell them that there’s no reason to be afeared right at this very minute, which is true. And that we’ll get back to them, which is true. And that we’re working on the problem—which is true. I do believe you could handle that, Veritas, and I believe you’re obliged to.
Right
now!” She did not say scat, out of politeness.

On his way out the door, moving as fast as his condition would allow, and making other allowances for the unsteady feeling the whole Castle had with that low vibration running all through it, he very nearly ran right over Silverweb of McDaniels.

“Silverweb— “ he began, but the Grannys, right behind him, gave him a push.

“Not
now
, Veritas Truebreed Motley, not
now!
” fussed Granny Hazelbide. “Whatever Silverweb of McDaniels needs, it won’t be anything as concerns you, and you’re needed to stop the panic out there in the town and all around the countryside. We Grannys’ll see to Silverweb!”

But Silverweb needed no seeing to at all. She was as radiant as if she’d been living on strawberries and thick cream, as beautiful as ever, and as serene as if this were the most ordinary of days. She was there, she announced, to get Troublesome—and the Grannys realized they’d seen no sign of Troublesome of Brightwater through all of this, which was becoming of her and showed a proper consideration—and then Silverweb went on to say that she and Troublesome were going to take Responsible of Brightwater out into the desert of Marktwain to the sacred spring.

“We’ll hitch a Mule to a wagon,” said Silverweb, her voice like rich melted butter running over in the dish, “and spread it with a comforter and a pillow to make Responsible lie easy. And Troublesome and I will lay Responsible inside, and we will take her away.”

“But, child,” hazarded Granny Hazelbide, touching the arm of the creature—as the Attendant had said, not a child, and not precisely a woman, either, but the Granny had the privilege of her years— “this is no time for such a trek! Don’t you know what’s happened?”

“What has happened,” said Silverweb of McDaniels, “is that the Holy One has spoken to me and told me that I must get Troublesome, and that she and I must take Responsible out into the desert. That is all that I need to know, Granny Hazelbide.”

“But— “

“There’s Troublesome now,” added Silverweb. “Right on time.”

Troublesome had her sister gathered up in her strong arms, a comforter wrapped round her, and no more trouble than a tadling; she wasn’t even out of breath, despite all the stairs.

“You lead on, Silverweb,” said Troublesome, “you’re the one as knows how this is supposed to go. And I’ll follow. Can you hitch up a Mule? If you can’t, I can.”

Silverweb laughed. “I can hitch a Mule,” she said. “I can hitch up any living thing that walks this planet, and I can do a sight more than that. You just come along with me—and I thank you kindly for waiting for me.”

It took the Grannys’ breaths away. They stood there in silence—not the usual way of things—as the two young women left with their sleeping charge. And then they watched from the balcony as the gates were opened and the wagon that carried Responsible was pulled out of the Castle yard by a prime Mule.

“That’ll be Sterling,” said Granny Hazelbide, and Granny Gableframe nodded.

“It would be.”

“Whatever do you suppose is going to happen? There’s nothing out there in that desert to eat nor to drink, and those two didn’t gather up so much as a peachapple before they left here ...”

In the streets the people drew back, whispering under their breaths, to let the wagon through, and the parents held the tadlings up high to see. And above them, the crystal had lost its transparent clarity and was beginning to take on a pale garnet color, that pulsed along with the thrumming in the stone and in the air.

It was beginning to accumulate its charge.

Marktwain’s desert, the one and only desert Ozark had, was something of a mystery. For one thing, the rest of the continent would have led you to believe there could be no desert there; Marktwain was lush green farming land, surpassed only by the emerald richness of Mizzurah, all the way to its coasts in all directions. That you could go through the pass between Troublesome’s mountain and the others in its chain (not really much more than high hills, but the Ozark Mountains of Old Earth had not been towering peaks, either, and there was thus a precedent for it), and suddenly find yourself heading smack into a real desert—that was always a surprise.

It wasn’t large, and was called simply “The Desert”; if you’ve only one, there’s no special need to name it. The technology and the knowledge necessary to bind its sands with plant life and turn it green as the rest of the continent had been part of the Ozarkers’ equipment even at First Landing. When Marktwain’s population passed sixty thousand, the two Kingdoms of Brightwater and McDaniels all parceled out in towns and farms, the idea of keeping a desert for its unique character ceased to be anything but romanticism. But it was left alone, nevertheless, and it was a rare day when anybody did more than go to its border and glance out over its emptiness. The desert belonged, by treaty signed on First Landing, to the Skerrys.

Troublesome of Brightwater and Silverweb of McDaniels headed out into the desert, waiting one on each side of the wagon, and the few people that had followed them that far turned back and let them go on. It was one thing to be those two and go trifling with the Skerrys; ordinary folk had best mind their own business.

And it was as well they did. Troublesome and Silverweb had hardly crossed the first smooth ridge of sand, talking idly of the foolishness going on in Smith Kingdom with its clown of a King and its dithery females, and on down the ridge’s far side, before they saw ahead of them a group of Skerrys standing and waiting.

“How many do you think, Silverweb?” Troublesome asked softly, abandoning the ridiculous tale of the Smiths.

“I was told there would be forty-four,” said Silverweb. “It is a number significant to them.”

“Forty-four Skerrys!” Troublesome blew a long breath.

Not since First Landing had any Ozarker ever seen more than one Skerry at a time, and to sight one was so rare that it obligated the whole Kingdom where it happened to spend a day of celebration and full holiday in the Skerry’s honor. Just what the sight of forty-four might have meant in the way of obligations was difficult to imagine. It surely would have been a heavy burden of worry and debate, and Marktwain’s citizens had more than enough of worry on their plates at that moment.

Sterling stopped dead when
she
saw them, and would not take another step, and the two women hesitated, not sure whether to try forcing her on or not.

“What do you think, Silverweb?” Troublesome asked, measuring the animal with narrowed eyes. “Shall I encourage this blamed Mule a tad?”

Sterling’s ears went flat back, and she walled her eyes, to indicate what she thought of the idea, but Troublesome was not impressed. “You care to find out who’s meaner, you or me,” she told the Mule, “I’m ready any time.”

“I think I’d wait,” said Silverweb, “and see if we get some kind of sign.”

“Like forty-four Skerrys at once? Like a giant crystal over our heads?”

“I had something less outlandish in mind,” Silverweb answered. For example ...” And she pointed, doing it discreetly with the tip of her chin as befit a situation where the fine edges of manners weren’t well known, toward the Skerry that had separated from the group and was heading toward them.

“Is it male or female, I wonder?” Troublesome said softly.

“We don’t even know that there
are
male and female to the Skerrys,” Silverweb reminded her. “We know only that they are more beautiful than anything else that we have ever seen.”