"I cannot leave my tree!" the dryad cried, distraught.
Of course that was true. A hamadryad was a creature of her tree, perhaps even the soul of the tree; she could not leave it. "I hope the water stops soon," Orb said, grief-stricken.
The dryad gazed at her without expression.
Orb turned the page to India.
The wagons were floating, but precariously. The occupants were bailing them out, but the constant fall of water was refilling them. A stiff wind was carrying the caravan out toward the widening sea.
Would these good folk survive? Orb, ashamed, did not make her presence known.
She returned to Jonah, who remained deep below ground. "The whole world is being flooded," she reported to the succubus. "I have lost my power to transport other people; I can only watch them perish."
"It can't rain forever," Jezebel said. "There isn't enough water."
Orb, helpless, retired to her chamber and lay down, not expecting to sleep. She did not feel tired and concluded that this was because of her new status as an Incarnation. But she dropped off almost immediately.
When she woke, the situation seemed unchanged—but she realized that this was deceptive, because of the ambiance of Jonah. She turned a page to the water oak—and was appalled, for it was gone. Evidently the waves had undermined it and carried it away, hamadryad and all. An old friend had been lost, and what could Orb do?
She went to India. The lowlands had been replaced by a turbulent ocean, and there was no sign of the floating wagons. The winds were so violent that it was obvious that full-fledged ships could have foundered; the wagons had not had any chance. More old friends were gone.
But the mermaid—she should have survived! Where was she?
Orb expanded, spreading throughout the region, questing for the mermaid. She found her, swimming deep down, where the water was quieter. But she could not greet the mermaid down here, and she worried about the threat of large sea creatures. Suppose one decided that the mermaid was prey?
However, no large predators seemed to be feeding now. The rain and melt that was causing the ocean level to rise was also diluting the salinity of the water at the upper reaches, and that seemed to be distracting the creatures. The mermaid had been making do with fresh water for so long that she had no problem. Perhaps she would be all right.
Orb turned the page to southern France, orienting on Tinka. She found the wagon sloughing through muck, ascending the mountain, its wheel holding. No danger of flooding here, at least.
She was about to return to Jonah, when she paused, noticing something. The mountain slope seemed to have changed its complexion. The ground was furred. So were the trunks of the trees, and even the leaves.
Orb reached out and broke off a twig. She felt a little tug inside her and realized that she was Nature, now, and related ultimately to every living thing, including the twig she had just severed from its tree.
She inspected the twig. It seemed to have sprouted new life. It was covered with something like algae.
Algae were growing on everything, and fungus sprouted, too. The humid, hot ambiance was encouraging the growth of such things. It seemed to be one of the harmless consequences of this weather.
She returned to Jonah—and found him in motion, swimming through the rock. "Where to?" she inquired.
"Oh, good," Lou-Mae exclaimed. "I wanted to say goodbye to you. We—Miami is pretty low, and my folks—I've got to be with them now."
"And I've got to be with her," the drummer said. "So we're getting off and see what we can do."
Orb wanted to caution them about the condition of the coastal cities, but realized that they could hardly save themselves while letting friends and relatives be threatened. "Get them to high ground as fast as you can," she said. But how much high ground was there in Florida?
Not enough, she knew. The entire state would soon be submerged. The relatives would be lost—and Lou-Mae and the drummer.
She had to do something! But what? She had lost her power to transport other people, and in any event, a whole city was threatened, and all the other coastal cities of the world. What could she do to save them?
She was the Incarnation of Nature, wasn't she? She should be able to do something! And she had to!
She turned the page to Purgatory. There was Eros, as if waiting for her. "Just tell me one thing," she snapped. "What powers can I invoke, as Gaea?"
"Any power of Nature," he replied. "To any degree. But you have to know how, and only long experience can make you perfect. I can't help you there; I only know about love."
"Where were you when Satan was corrupting me?" she asked fiercely.
"I did not interfere in that; a lesser Incarnation can not affect a greater one. You came to love him on your own, and I had to accede."
Surely so. "Where can I get the information I need to master my office?" she asked tightly.
"There is no written text, if that's what you mean. You have to master it on your own."
"I don't have time for that! I need instruction! Who can provide it?"
He shrugged. "Only the former Gaea, I suspect."
"But she's in Heaven!"
"No, she's on Earth. She still has some other natural life to live out."
So the former Gaea remained among the mortals! Orb expanded, orienting on her, found her, and coalesced beside her.
"Why, hello, Gaea," the woman said. She looked exactly as she had before—as Satan's emulation of her had looked.
"Why did you give up your office to me?"
"Nothing lasts forever," the woman said. "I was becoming fatigued, trying to keep natural order throughout the world. Any error, and such consequences! It is a nervous business. So when I saw one who had the potential to replace me, I encouraged it."
"You encouraged it? You mean you could have prevented it?"
"Oh, certainly! Not all Incarnations step down involuntarily. When you expanded, I contracted, until finally you expanded all the way and assumed the whole of it, and I let myself slide back into mortality. When you tire of it, and a successor offers, you may do the same and finish out your mortal life in the situation you helped generate."
"But I am making a mess of it!" Orb protested. "I sang the wrong theme, and now Chaos is loosed upon the land!"
"We all make errors at the outset," the woman said calmly. "How well I remember the Black Plague! It was all I could do to prevent it from wiping out the remaining population, but after that I certainly knew more about my office!"
"But I sang the Song of Chaos!"
The woman nodded. "I really didn't think you were ready for that one. But if you can master it, you will have an extremely powerful tool."
"That's why I came to see you! I have no idea how to stop it from destroying the world. If you can tell me—"
"I can and I can't," the woman said. "You see, I did not use music for my command process. So I do not know how that applies. I suspect you would not be able to use the command process I am familiar with."
"What is that?"
"Pseudo gestures."
"What?"
"Gestures that do not reach the level of performance. Patterns of muscle tension. The body has many muscles and many more combinations."
"I know nothing about that! I sing the themes—"
"Which I know nothing about. Therefore I can not provide you with specifics. But I can tell you what I would do, if my system remained operative. I would hasten the cycle of the pattern of Chaos you have invoked, hoping to clear it before its havoc was total."
"Can't I simply nullify it?"
"If there is a way, I do not know it. Other things can be neutralized, but Chaos is different. It has to complete whatever course it runs—which can not be predicted. But the less time it exists, the less damage it is likely to do. It is a calculated risk—but of course there can be no certainties, with Chaos."
Orb was hardly reassured. "How can I use my music to hasten the cycle?"
"You should be a
ble to use the same theme that invoked the cycle, and invoke it again, and again. Each invocation should translate it to a new application. Of course that is dangerous, because it is apt to accelerate its power as well as its velocity. It is possible that you would be best off leaving it alone."
"But people are dying!"
"I realize that. But when you go for double or nothing, or triple or nothing, the result is not always what you prefer."
Orb sighed. She knew the former Gaea was right. A gamble was a gamble. "I thank you for your comment," she said and turned the page back to Jonah.
"I don't think you will be able to save your folks," she said to Lou-Mae. "It is my fault; I set in motion a pattern I can not control. But I may be able to change it. The risk is that I will only make it worse. How do you feel?"
Lou-Mae hardly seemed to consider. "Let's try to save them first. If we can't, then you gamble."
"Then I gamble," Orb agreed, relieved to have the basis for the decision clarified.
Chapter 15 - CHAOS
The level of the ocean had risen fifteen feet. The runoff from the rain across the state of Florida made it worse. Much of Miami was under water, the buildings poking out of the great new lake. The inhabitants were crowding into the diminishing islands of high ground and into the upper stories of the sturdier buildings. Still the rain washed down.
Orb shook her head. Most of the city's population might be alive now, but the continuing rise of water doomed them. Whatever boats had been serviceable had already gone, and it would be impossible for most of the people to swim what might turn out to be hundreds of miles to truly secure ground.
Jonah taxied to Lou-Mae's home section. It was under water; the people were gone. Rubble made islands where buildings had collapsed, and garbage floated around them. Lou-Mae stared, her face expressionless.
"They went to high ground," the drummer said quickly. "They had time; the water rose slowly."
"Yes..." she agreed, her shock easing.
"I can find them," Orb said. "Give me a description of a friend or relative, and I will orient."
Lou-Mae described her mother. Orb expanded, and when she intersected the woman, she coalesced to that spot. It was in a large building being used as a refuge. People were crowded on the upper floors. A number were injured; a makeshift infirmary section had been cordoned off for them.
Orb saw with horror that the same furry growth she had seen in France was appearing here. The walls were covered with it, and the ceiling, and it was even on some of the clothing of the people. The heat and humidity fostered it, and it was encroaching everywhere. The air itself seemed to taste of it.
Lou-Mae's mother was a massive woman, but she just about jumped off the floor when Orb materialized before her. Orb was the only white person in the room.
"I am a friend of Lou-Mae's," Orb said. "She wants to join you here, to try to help you. The rest of her family, her friends—are they all right?"
"Most—for now," the woman said grimly. "You got a way out of here?"
"Not for this number of people," Orb said. She wasn't sure that Jonah would admit any person who wasn't part of the Sludge, and certainly not hundreds.
"Then tell Lou-Mae to stay clear, because she's better off where she is."
"She won't do that," Orb said. "She wants to be with you. I will have to bring her."
The woman nodded, understanding. Orb turned the page to Jonah. "I found her," she announced. "She's all right, but she wishes you would stay clear."
"I know," Lou-Mae said. "I won't."
"She knows." Orb directed Jonah, and he swam to the building.
Lou-Mae had a tearful reunion with her mother, introduced the drummer, and caught up on the status of other family members. Then she turned to Orb. "They're never going to get out of here. Go back to the fish. Take the gamble. We'll ride it out with them."
Orb sighed. Lou-Mae knew the risk. But it was obvious that the risk of allowing the present situation to continue was worse. She returned to Jonah.
Only Jezebel and the guitarist remained there. "I'm going to try it," Orb said. "That's all you can do," Jezebel said. "Maybe the guitar can help?" The guitarist fetched his instrument. "Just tell me what you want."
"It's like the Song of the Morning or the Song of Day, but different," Orb said. "Start with that and modify as seems right." He nodded.
Orb set herself, then sang. The Song of Chaos reached out beyond them, beyond Jonah, expanding in the manner of her diffusion traveling, embracing the turbulent world. The chamber faded, and it was as if they were in the rain, becoming part of it, part of the moving air and water. The song took hold of that ambience and stirred it, intensifying it. Darkness came, and light, but the darkness was vast and strong, while the light was limited and weak. Chaos was awakening to new power.
Orb felt a chill as she sang, not of the body. She was playing with a force she hardly understood. Her first invocation of it had led the world to this watery horror; what would follow now?
She completed the song, the part of it she could. The rest of it would complete itself in its own fashion.
"The power of that thing!" Jezebel murmured. "I'm not even human, but I felt it. It would shake Hell itself!"
"It is a gamble," Orb repeated. "I don't know whether I am doing right or wrong."
Outside, the rain was easing. Orb expanded and found that this was happening all around the globe. The temperature had stopped rising, and the weather was slowly clearing.
She coalesced. "I think we have turned the corner," she said, with immense relief. Then she went to her room and collapsed into sleep.
She woke somewhat refreshed. Jezebel fixed her breakfast. She didn't know what time of the day or night it was, but breakfast seemed appropriate. Jonah was under the ground again, and everything was quiet.
Belatedly, Orb considered that. "Why is Jonah down?" she asked.
"He generally has reason," Jezebel said. "I'd better look."
Orb turned the page to Miami. It was quiet, and the temperature had dropped a little. The water still stood around the buildings, but the worst seemed to be over.
Still, she checked on Lou-Mae. She remained in the island building with her mother and the others. They had food from the supplies of a restaurant that had been on the lower floor; the flooding and lack of electric power would cause the food to spoil soon, so they were only cutting down on the waste.
The algae grew everywhere. Someone had evidently tried to scrub down a section of the wall, but already the stuff was growing back. The scent of it in the air was stronger; it was impossible to inhale without breathing it.
Lou-Mae and her mother were all right, but the drummer lay under a blanket. "He has a fever," Lou-Mae explained worriedly. "Several others have it. One of us is a doctor, but he says it's impossible to tell what it is yet; it doesn't act like the flu."
"I could take him back aboard Jonah," Orb said.
"No, he says he wants to stay here with me. I'll take care of him."
"Maybe I can sing him well," Orb said.
"Oh, has your power returned?" Lou-Mae inquired, brightening.
"I don't know." Orb went to the drummer, took his burning hand, and sang the Song of the Morning. The effect of night came, and then dawn, amazing the others in the room, but Orb knew that there was no healing effect. That aspect of her power remained pre-empted by the Song of Chaos.
"He'll be all right," Lou-Mae said, putting a brave face on it.
"I'll keep in touch," Orb said. Her heart was heavy, but there was nothing more she could do.
Then she thought of something. Quickly she removed the necklace she wore, with the moonstone amulet the Magician had given her as a child. As an Incarnation, she no longer needed it. She turned back to Lou-Mae. "Please wear this," she said, putting the chain over Lou-Mae's head.
"What is it. Orb?"
"A charm. It will protect you from harm."
"But—"
"Please, I want you to have it. N
ever take it off. Promise."
Lou-Mae hugged her. "I promise, Orb!"
Back aboard Jonah, she decided to check quickly on the others. She turned pages, verifying that the calm extended to all the world. Tinka's wagon was safely ensconced on a high slope, the mermaid had found herself a grotto near the new shore, and the fields of Betsy's farm were draining. Much damage had been done everywhere, and many lives had been lost, but the carnage had stopped.
Could it really be so easy? Orb distrusted this, so she turned the page to Purgatory. This time she went to the castle of War, having a certain female curiosity about aspects of her former lover's situation.
She was met at the front gate by a hooded figure. "Mym?" she inquired hesitantly.
The figure drew back its hood. Its head was a writhing mass of maggots.
Orb screamed.
"Thank you," the figure said. "What is your business?"
Orb realized that this was not Mym. "I—I wish to see Mars."
"And who are you?" The maggots writhed as it spoke, forming a mouth and shaping the words.
"I—just say a friend." She felt uneasy about revealing her nature or her business to this thing.
The gruesome figure turned about and moved into the castle. Orb was satisfied to wait outside. What kind of company was Mym keeping, these days?
Soon a lovely young woman appeared. That was literal; she simply manifested where there had been no one before.
"Lilith," Orb said, recognizing her.
The demoness was taken aback. "Have we met before?"
"Not directly. You are Mym's demon mistress."
"True. But who are you?"
"His former lover," Orb said with a certain satisfaction.
"You are not Rapture of Malachite."
"Before that."
Lilith made the connection. "The one who had his baby! I should have recognized you; I have emulated you in the past!"
"Emulated me?"
"Assumed your likeness." The demoness abruptly shifted to a mirror like image of Orb. "Mym never stopped loving you, you know, so sometimes I—never mind. I simply wasn't expecting you here. Come in; I know he will want to see you."