Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl (54 page)

Only a mile down the road Kul spied the anchored wole and the house. Keeping to cover he approached, dismounted and went to the door. From within he heard a sudden crash of broken glass.

Kul burst the door wide and stood in the doorway. Visbhume, engaged in tearing Glyneth’s clothes from her body, looked up in a panic. A bottle of green glass lay broken in the place where Glyneth had seized and thrown it. Kul hurled Visbhume against the wall with such force that Visbhume fell senseless to the floor.

“Glyneth ran sobbing to Kul. “What have they done to you? Oh, your poor arm! My dear poor wonderful Kul, you are hurt!”

“But not too badly,” said Kul. “I am alive, and Zaxa is learning the length and breadth of the infinities.”

“Sit in the chair, and let us see what can be done for you.”

AGAIN THE WOLE RAN EASTWARD toward Asphrodiske, beside the Road of Round Stones. In a clothes-press at the back of the cottage Glyneth had found garments to replace those which Visbhume had torn: peasant trousers of striped gray, black and white bast and a blouse of coarse blue linen. She had done her best to ease Kul’s wounds, mending his cuts and slashes and contriving a sling to support his arm until the fractured bone might mend. Zaxa had sunk his fangs into Kul’s shoulder, injecting a poisonous saliva, and the wound had mortified.

“Take the knife,” said Kul. “Cut. Let the blood flow. Then dust on the powder.”

Glyneth, gray-faced, took a deep breath, and holding her hand steady, slashed deep into the wound, releasing a gush of noxious matter and then a flow of healthy red blood. Kul groaned in relief and stroked Glyneth’s hair, then sighed once again and looked away. “At times. I see strange visions,” said Kul. “But it was not intended that I should dream, especially impossible dreams.”

“Impossible dreams come into my head too, sometimes,” said Glyneth. “They confuse me and even frighten me. Still, how can I help but love you, who are so brave and kind and gentle?”

Kul gave a mirthless laugh. “So I was intended to be.” He turned away and gave his attention to Visbhume. “I would kill you at this moment, except that we still need your guidance. How goes the direction of the moon?”

Visbhume painfully rose to his feet. “What if I guide you correctly?”

“You will be allowed to live.” Visbhume showed the caricature of an airy and confident smile. “I will accept that condition. The black moon is close on the quaver. You have loitered overlong.”

“Then let us be away.”

Visbhume made as if to take up his wallet, but Glyneth ordered him to stand back. She reduced the cottage, packed it away. The three climbed aboard the wole and once again rode toward the pink star, now almost in contact with the black moon.

As before, Glyneth rode the high seat in the pergola, Kul crouched by the wole’s horns and Visbhume sat at the hindquarters, looking to the side with eyes as liquid and large as those of a lemur. Glyneth rode in a welter of a dozen emotions, and any one of them, so she felt, might bring her heartbreak. Despite the salves and powders, Kul was not the Kul of old; perhaps, thought Glyneth, he had lost too much blood, for now his skin had taken on a pallor and the crispness had gone from his movements. She sighed, thinking of her return to Earth. Already Tanjecteriy had become the reality and Earth the fanciful land behind the clouds.

League after league fell astern to the thrust of the wole’s running legs, and now the road led across the Plain of Lilies. In the distance appeared a line of low hills, a town of gray houses and, somewhat to the north, a low flat dome of gleaming gray-silver metal.

Visbhume came to stand by the pergola. He spoke to Glyneth: “My dear, I will need the almanac, that I may find the great axis.”

Glyneth removed the key from its socket and handed the almanac to Visbhume, who read the text with attention, then studied a small detail map.

“Aha!” said Visbhume. “Fare to the side of the dome; we should see a platform, and thereon an iron post.”

Glyneth pointed. “I see the platform! I see the post!”

“Then forward in haste! The black moon has sounded the pulse, and here the time is short, without pause or rest.”

At best speed the wole coursed across the countryside and arrived at the side of the dome. “That is an old temple, which may well be deserted now,” said Visbhume. “On to the platform. Glyneth, the key!”

“Not yet,” said Glyneth. “And in any event I will use the key.”

Visbhume made an annoyed chattering sound. “That is not as I planned; it is impractical!”

“Nevertheless, you shall not pass until both Kul and I are safely through the portal.”

“Bah!” whispered Visbhume. “Then up to the platform, and halt! … Glyneth, alight! Kul, down from your perch! To the post!”

Glyneth went to the steps leading up to the platform. Kul wearily stepped down to the ground and followed. Visbhume pulled the pipes from his pocket and played a shrill discordant arpeggio. The wole bellowed in rage and lowering its head charged down upon Kul. Visbhume came dancing with knees high, blowing tones at angry discord. Kul tried to jerk aside, but the spring was gone from his legs. The wole hooked him with its horns, and tossed him high.

Glyneth ran crying back down to the limp form. She looked up at Visbhume in horror and hatred. “You have betrayed us once again!”

“No more than you! Look at me! I am Visbhume! You call endearments to this creature who is half a beast, and only partly a man; it is unnatural! Yet you scorn me, the proud and noble Visbhume!”

Glyneth ignored him. “Kul lives! Help me with him!”

“Never! Are you mad?”

“Now quickly! He lives.”

“shall I call the wole to trample him?”

Glyneth looked up in horror. “No!”

“Tell me: who is Dhrun’s mother? Tell me!”

Kul whispered: “Tell him nothing.”

“No,” said Glyneth. “I will tell him; it can make no great difference. Suldrun was Dhrun’s mother and Aillas his father.”

“How is that possible, with Dhrun now twelve years old?”

“A year in the fairy shee is like ten years of life elsewhere.”

Visbhume gave a crow of exultation. “That is the knowledge I have been seeking!” He snatched the key from Glyneth’s hands, and jumped back as if dancing to some surging music heard by himself alone. He made a flamboyant flourish. “Truly, Glyneth, what a little fool you are! If you had spoken long ago, we would have been saved both toil and pain, from which I profit not at all! Little does Casmir care! He will only commend me for the results and call me efficient.

“Now then: will you come to Earth in a submissive manner, and there do my bidding?”

Glyneth fought to keep her voice under control. “I cannot leave Kul!” She turned her head so as not to look at Visbhume. “Take us both safely to Earth, and I will do your bidding.”

Visbhume judiciously held high his finger. “No! Kul must stay! He has treated me with contumacy; he must be punished. Come, Glyneth!”

“I will not leave without him.”

“So be it! Remain here and cherish this beast you love with so peculiar a passion! Give me now my wallet!”

“I will not give over the wallet.”

“Then I will blow a blast on my pipes.”

“And I will throw a Tormentor bulb at you. I should have done so before!”

Visbhume uttered a curse, but dared delay no longer. “I am away for Earth, where I will enjoy honours and wealth; goodbye!”

Visbhume leapt up to the platform, struck with his key, and disappeared from view.

Glyneth knelt beside Kul, who lay with eyes closed. Glyneth stroked his forehead. “Kul, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.”

“I am here with you. Can you manage to climb upon the wole? We will take you to a quiet place in the forest and you shall rest until you are well.”

Kul opened his eyes. “The wole is an uncertain creature. It has done me a great harm.”

“Only at the bidding of Visbhume’s pipes. Otherwise it seems an orderly creature, and it runs well.”

“That is true. Well then, let me see if I can climb on its back.”

“I will help you.”

Attracted by the activity, folk from the town had started to gather and some of them began to jeer Glyneth’s attempts to help Kul. Glyneth paid the crowd no heed, and finally Kul half-climbed, half-fell aboard the wole. Now the crowd moved in close and surrounded the wole and started to pluck tassels from the rug. Glyneth brought a Tormentor bulb from the wallet and tossed it into the crowd, which immediately dispersed amid cries of pain, and the wole was free to go its way.

An hour later Glyneth took the wole veering across a meadow and behind a copse, where she dropped anchor and set up the house. Kul for a period lay in a daze, and Glyneth watched him anxiously. Was her imagination playing her tricks, or were odd changes occurring within Kul, causing his expression to move and change and at times even blur?

Kul opened his eyes to find Glyneth watching him. He spoke in a soft drained voice. “I have had strange dreams. When I try to remember, my head swims.” He made a fretful movement and started to raise himself, but Glyneth pushed him back. “Lie quietly, Kul Rest, and never mind the dreams!”

Kul closed his eyes and spoke in his vague soft voice: “Murgen spoke to me. He said that I must guard you and bring you back safe to the hut. It is proper that I love you, because that is my reason for being alive. But you must not waste your emotion on me. I am half-beast, and one of the voices I hear is the voice of the feroce. Another voice is reckless and cruel, and it urges me to unspeakable deeds. The third voice is the strongest and when it speaks the others are still.”

Glyneth said: “I too have thought long and deeply. All you say is true. I am awed by your strength and grateful for your protection, but I love another part of you: your kindness and bravery, and these were not taught you by Murgen. They come from somewhere else.”

“Murgen’s orders ring in my mind: I am to guard you and bring you safe to the hut, and since we have no better place to go, that shall be our destination.”

“Back the way we came?”

“Back the way we came.”

“Whenever you are strong enough to travel: then we will go.”

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE FINAL GOBLIN FAIR of the Season, Melancthe arrived at that inn near Twitten’s Corners known as The Laughing Sun and The Crying Moon’. She engaged her customary apartments, then at once went off to the meadow, where she hoped to find Zuck and remind him of their contract in connection with the flowers.

Zuck had only just arrived and, with the aid of a nondescript boy, unloaded his goods and appurtenances from a pony cart. At the sight of Melancthe, he politely nodded and touched the brim of his cap with his first two fingers and proceeded with his work; apparently the provision of flowers for Melancthe had not yet occupied his attention.

Melancthe made a sibilant sound of annoyance and confronted Zuck where he worked at his shelves. “Have you forgotten our agreement?”

Zuck paused in his work and gave her a blank sideglance. His face cleared. “Ah, yes! Of course! You are the lady who so anxiously wanted flowers!”

“Quite so, Zuck; have you forgotten so soon?”

“Of course not! But many small details throng my mind and detract from my attention. Just a moment.”

Zuck gave the boy instructions, then took Melancthe to a nearby bench. “You must understand that in our business we often deal with persons who talk largely but put little gold upon the counter. As I recall, you wished another flower or two, to grace your lovely hair.”

“I want all the flowers, be they one, two, ten or a hundred.”

Zuck nodded slowly and looked off across the meadow. “At last we understand each other! Such flowers command large prices; I already have a list of customers as impatient as you, and I have yet to consult my supplier in regard to the produce of his secret garden.”

“Your other customers must look elsewhere, and you will be adequately paid, never fear!”

“In that case you must apply to my booth tomorrow at this time, when I hope to have definite news from the gardener.”

Melancthe could extract no further information from Zuck, and most especially he refused to identify the mysterious gardener who nurtured such remarkable blooms, and at last Melancthe returned to the inn, fretful and dissatisfied but unable to implement her wishes.

As soon as she was out of sight, Zuck thoughtfully returned to his work. After a bit he called to the boy, who on closer inspection seemed to be either full falloy, or falloy with traces of goblin and humankind. His stature was that of human youth, with a supple easy quality to his movements; otherwise he showed a silver skin, pale green-gold hair and enormous eyes with dark silver pupils in the shape of seven-pointed stars. He was a pretty lad, calm, slow and even somewhat naive. Zuck had found him a willing worker and paid him well, so that, in general, affairs went well between the two.

Zuck now called the boy’s name: “Yossip! Where are you?”

“Here, sir, resting under the cart.”

“Come here, if you please; I have an errand for you.”

Yossip came around to the front of the booth. “What is this errand?”

“No great matter. This summer you came to work one day with a fine black flower, which, as I recall, you left on the counter, and which I later gave away to one of my customers.”

“Ah yes,” said Yossip.

“A flower from my secret garden.”

Zuck ignored the remark. “I am of a mind to put out some trifling decoration, to distinguish our booth and mark it from the ruck. To this end, a few flowers might be just the thing. Where did you obtain the black blossom?”

“Out in the forest, along Giliom’s Lane, at a place I like to consider my secret bower. This summer I found only a single bloom, though I noticed several buds.”

“A few flowers may be enough. After all, we are not flower-merchants or herbalists! How far is the garden? Direct me and I will cut exactly to my needs.”

Yossip hesitated. “I remember neither landmarks nor exact distances. I myself will find the place with difficulty. Still, if you want the flowers, instruct me, and I will bring them here.”