Carousel Seas (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TUESDAY, JULY 11

LOW TIDE 5:43
P.M.
EDT

I cruised past The Last Mango on my way to the carousel. Peggy and Ethrane were each riding a smoothie-making machine, and the air was fragrant with the scent of oranges and papaya and banana. I waved without much hope of being seen over the crowd, and moved on.

Once past the crowd at the Mango, traffic on the midway seemed light. Well, it was another hot one, and the beach beckoned.

A second wave at Felsic, who was leaning on the front counter of the baseball pitch, apparently watching the empty midway, earned me a casual come-on-over. I obliged.

“Afternoon, Felsic.”

“Kate. Just thought I’d ask after Cael, and if there’s anything we can do to help him find his feet.”

“I think he’s doing all right, though it turns out that master of hounds is a lot more complicated than I’d thought, at first.”

“That a fact?” Felsic’s lips twitched suspiciously.

“Think I’d learn, right? Just this morning, he laid a curse and a blessing, and took the oath of a dog named Oscar. Oh, and he’s thinking about applying with the town for Animal Control Officer.”

Felsic considered that briefly.

“Need papers to apply with the town.”

“Right. Artie brought ’em down this morning.”

“That’s fast.”

“Come in express, Artie said.”

Another brief pause.

“Didn’t know Artie did express,” Felsic said carefully.

“Neither did he. Back to Cael: I don’t know his habits, if he’s solitary or wants people around him.”

“Wolf, that could go both ways. Tell him, if he wants it, we got some who’re eager to make his acquaintance. Been talk about having a welcome party—
trenvay
don’t arise every day, after all—but I’m not seeing that ’til the Season gets done.”

“At which point nobody’ll feel like partying,” I said gloomily.

Felsic shrugged.

“Could be so, could be no. Might be worthwhile to party for the good times that were, and the rising of a new one, which is a promise of good things to come.”

“You need to write poetry, Felsic; I mean that.”

“Might try my hand, over the winter. What’re the chances of that deal with the town going through?”

I followed the transition without any trouble, but couldn’t do anything other than shrug.

“I put it at forty percent, with the Chamber’s support behind it. The town doesn’t have the kind of money Fun Country’s asking for the land.”

“Peggy says that towns have better opportunities to raise money,” Felsic said. “A bond issue, or applying to the state or federal governments for an assist. ’Specially, if they’re applying to preserve a historic area or to promote economic growth.” Felsic made owl eyes. “Understand, she was on a tear by then, and I don’t think I took it all in. Still, though, Kate, it seemed she was calling above evens.”

“I’m the first to admit that Peggy knows more about this stuff than I do. So, what I’m going to do is remain cautiously pessimistic and hope she’s right.” I straightened. “Time for Vassily to get his supper,” I said. “I’ll pass your message to Cael.”

“’Preciate it. See you later, Kate.”

Fountain Circle was as thin of company as the midway, and Baxter Avenue wasn’t looking much fatter.

There were five people in line at Tony Lee’s for a late dinner or an early supper, and a kid in purple shorts at the lobster toss, pitching rubber crustaceans like they were softballs. Summer’s Wheel was running, but the gondolas were empty; no line at the Oriental Funhouse, but I heard faint screams and howls of laughter from inside.

No line for the carousel, either; it sat motionless, the animals probably sweating under the storm roof. I spared a brief moment of regret for the Wise One’s frosty flowers as I walked up to the operator’s station.

Gran was sitting on the stool; Vassily had a hip braced against the safety rail, his face turned toward hers, hands moving with animation.

“Afternoon,” I said, ducking under the rail. “Sorry I’m late, Vassily.”

“Good afternoon, Kate Archer. I have not noticed the time as I listened to your grandmother.” He turned a beatific smile on me. “I thought you would not mind, if I talked with her while I was working.”

“I don’t, but that’s only because she’d make sure you did work, if there were customers coming in. She taught me how to operate this ride; she tell you that?”

“She did! She said you were—”

Gran cleared her throat, Vassily shot a dancing glance in her direction, and looked back to me.

“She said you were clever, and learned, so very quickly.”

“I just bet she did say that. Since you’re not paying attention to time, I’ll let you know that your shift’s done, and Anna’s ready to serve up your supper.”

“Yes. Good night, Kate Archer. Thanking you.” He came out of his lean, took Gran’s hand, raised it and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Babushka. Thanking you.”

He vaulted over the rail and walked toward Baxter Avenue, whistling.

“I don’t think I’ve heard him do that before,” I commented, looking back to Gran. “You made a conquest.”

“He’s a nice boy,” Gran said comfortably.

In point of fact, Vassily was not a nice boy—at least, he’d done things most “nice boys” didn’t, but there was no real reason to share that with Gran, who probably used a whole different measuring stick for “nice,” anyway.

“He’s got a proper feeling for the carousel and the animals,” I said, spinning around on a heel. “Been this busy all day?”

“There was a line when I got here, about two, but it’s thinned out since. It’s really too warm to walk around on tarmac, even with the breeze. Things’ll pick up this evening.”

“Just my luck.” I sighed and lifted myself to the top rung of the safety rail, more or less where Vassily had been leaning. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Nostalgia?”

“Partly, yes. I wanted to see the carousel, and . . . I thought you’d like an explanation.”

“I’m always in favor of an explanation,” I said. “Do you want to tour the carousel first, or has Vassily done the honors?”

“I told him I wanted to wait for you. He understood completely. We talked about the Ukraine and what he found different here. I may have told him a few stories about you.”

“I hope he laughed in the right places.” I slid to my feet. “You won’t notice much different. I think. Except for the batwing being gone. I—well, you’ll see.”

I opened the gate and swept my hand out.

“After you.”

* * *

It was a slow walk around the wheel, Gran wanted to touch every animal, and when she came to the unicorn, which had, the last time she’d seen it, held an imprisoned soul, she paused, and put both hands on its gilt saddle.

“If the Wise are going to discover what Aesgyr’s done in another few weeks, no matter what,” she said slowly, “do you think this subterfuge is necessary?”

“Mr. Ignat’ seemed to think so. ’Course that was before the Wise served warning on us.”

Gran tipped her head, apparently regarding the decoy bindings, and the bogus soul-light.

“Perhaps . . .” she said, then shook her head. “No, leave them. It won’t be that much longer, and we don’t want to spike Aesgyr’s guns.”

“You know the prince?” I asked, as we continued the tour.

“No, but Bel—oh, ridiculous bird!” She stopped with her hands on her hips, shaking her head at the rooster, in either reproof or regret. “Kate, I can’t believe . . .”

“Yes, you can; he’s right there. Go put your hand on him if you don’t believe it.”

She sighed, but to my surprise, she did walk forward and laid a hand on the saddle.

“Fiberglass.” She shook her head again.

“Hey, I was desperate. But here’s the good news—we ought to have the new, carved horse here just in time to close for the Season.”

“What sort of horse did you order? I don’t think you ever said.”

“Couldn’t say; you’d gone in-tree. I ordered in a batwing horse—gray, black mane, white socks. This new one won’t have fangs.”

“Probably just as well.”

“No sense scaring the small fry,” I agreed.

We did the rest of the tour in silence, with me not repeating my question about Prince Aesgyr as obviously as possible.

Gran ignored me—or she might just have been so caught up in revisiting that she didn’t notice.

We stepped off the wheel across from the operator’s station. There were no customers yet, I noticed, but under the circumstances I wasn’t going to be too depressed about it.

Gran settled again onto the operator’s stool—and no one with any more right to it. I skinned back onto the top rail, and sat there, pitched a little forward, arms straight, hands gripping the rail, head bent so I could watch my feet swing.

“All right, Katie, what’s your point?”

I looked up. “My point is that any sentence starting off with,
No, but Bel—
really needs to be finished, so I don’t have nightmares.”

Gran looked at me seriously.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have nightmares, even if I do finish it,” she said. “I’ve had my share of them, since we started down this path. But, even so—even now—I can’t see what else we could have done, and it was certain that we had to do something.”

“Now you’re just having fun with me,” I said.

Gran glared—then laughed.

“You’re right. If I’m going to tell it, I ought to tell it properly, from the beginning.”

“Which is when certain parties interested in achieving great power nudged the Changing Land out of true with the rest of the Six Worlds, so the Wind Between couldn’t deliver
jikinap
equally to all?”

“No, after that by a considerable amount of . . . time. Ramendysis had gone to Daknowyth, bearing the Victor’s Terms to Mergine, and come back to plead clemency. Since Ramendysis had argued so urgently for punitive terms, your grandfather wondered what had happened to change his mind . . .”

“So he paid a social call on Queen Mergine and asked her.”

“That’s right. Mergine and Bel were long known to each other, and she had no hesitation in speaking with him frankly. She told him that she had promised her daughter Princess Leynore to Ramendysis in true and full marriage, in order to gain clemency and, perhaps something more, for Daknowyth.”

She paused, frowning, as if deciding how to explain the next bit.

“Mr. Ignat’ told me some of this, in between dodging questions about other things. Ramendysis had to collect a certain amount of
jikinap
in order to be a worthy bridegroom. If he managed to make it to his wedding night, he had very little chance of surviving that true and full marriage, because the Opal’s the Guardian of Daknowyth, and she would have just funneled his power straight into her land.”

“Yes, that’s right. But, at that juncture, Mergine wasn’t particularly worried about Ramendysis. As far as she was concerned, Ramendysis was, if not a non-problem, an insignificant one that would eventually solve itself. What frightened her—and Bel assures me that there is very little in all of the Six Worlds that had the power to
frighten
Mergine of Daknowyth—

“What frightened her was that she had received a visit from two of the Wise, who put her on notice that there was a Worlds-spanning conspiracy afoot, to disturb the flow of humors and energies between the Six Worlds. The Wise had already apprehended some of the ringleaders of this conspiracy, and they asked her cooperation, in aiding their search.”

“Wait,” I said. “I thought that the reason Daknowyth took a war into Sempeki was because the flow of humors and energies between the Worlds had
already
been disrupted, and Daknowyth was dying.”

“So Bel tells me, and I know it for the truth, since I hold his soul in safety.”

“So . . .
the Wise
are trying to choke off the Six Worlds? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it? The Wise may well find that a closed system of power suits their purposes very well.
Jikinap
seeks
jikinap
, and the Wise are Wise because they’ve figured out how to survive the terrible costs of controlling that much power.
But
we don’t need to tease ourselves with what might be. Bel investigated. He found nothing . . . conclusive, but much that was disturbing.

“The Flaming Land had been subverted. The prisoner that the Wise had placed into the carousel, and forced me to bind—she had been, so Bel found, high in the House of the Supreme Flame. In Cheobaug, he found news of a sea-god who had destroyed himself, his people and his sea—no one knew why. It was thought that his waters had been poisoned, but how, or what poison might touch a god, wasn’t known.”

“But the woman from Cheobaug—”

“That was after,” Gran interrupted. “They’d already brought me your Wolf, who lived up to his name, but was bound at the last.”

“No one could have thought that holding his master of hounds hostage would stop Aeronymous, if he felt the need to act,” I said.

Gran smiled. “But the Wise thought they had your father. Aeronymous was never a fool, as I’ve heard it told. When the Wise came with their accusations, Aeronymous produced, as his son Nathan, Cael the Wolf, who stood to do his lord’s bidding, holding
jikinap
that stank of the House’s power.”