“It's what Phillip said when I got to him. And who knows, if I had had a good teacher he just might have been correct!”
She nudged Nelly with her knee, rode through the camp, and out to the road that led to the border.
*
It was half a day later at leisurely horse-walking speed that she met the cat. It came from the bushes, tail raised, yellow eyes fixed on her, and she knew instantly that this was why she had left the camp.
She said, “Whoa, Nelly,” though the horse was already stopped. The cat came nearer. It was very black, blacker than mortal hide ought to be. It sat down, washed itself carefully, pawed down its whiskers, and then did what Charlain had somehow expected. It turned its back, looked over its shoulder once, flicked its tail, and proceeded up a path.
“Follow that cat, Nelly!” Charlain said to her mount. It was silly and impossible that she do so, but Nelly obeyed. That, she thought, had to be the result of magic!
She held the reins loosely in her hands and let the horse plod on at the cat's pace. She sighed and closed her eyes, resting. Not once did she question herself about why she was here or where they were going. She did not even wonder whether it would be a long or a short trip. Somehow she had known that something like this would happen. That had been part of her urgency to get away from the camp. It was as if she had laid down another card, and it had told her to leave the place where she was needed, to find one where she was needed more.
Eventually the path reached its end and they stopped. Here, in an otherwise empty glade, was a huge gnarled tree. Under the tree, waiting, was an old, bent woman, leaning on a stick. Now who would that be, except--
“Helbah? Helbah the witch?”
“Who else, Charlain?”
She felt a cloud lift from her. “I am here,” she said without thinking. “Here, as I know you directed.”
“You have done well,” Helbah said. “Now you will do even better.”
Charlain knew that Helbah spoke only the witching truth.
*
Heln watched behind half-hooded eyes as Jon added seeds and crumbs to the tray on the windowsill. Her task done, Jon glanced at her, saw her apparently asleep, and tiptoed out.
No sooner was the door closed than Heln was out of bed and scuttling, a way she found natural of late, across the room to the window. She stood stealthily waiting until the dark-headed sparren lit on the tray's rim. Bright-eyed, the little bird regarded her carefully. Heln remained frozen, unblinking.
The bird picked up a corbean from the tray, cracked it, and proceeded to eat. Pleased with the fare, it put its little head back and warbled cheerily.
Instantly Heln's hand shot out like a snake. Her fingers snapped closed like jaws on the tiny bird before it could flutter. She raised it to her mouth, her stomach growling for sustenance. The bird raised its beak desperately.
Heln opened her mouth. Easily, without seeming volition, her head snapped forward. Her teeth closed on the bird and crushed it.
She was just swallowing, and brushing crimson stains from her lips, when Jon entered. Jon stared at her and the tray. There were feathers on the tray. There was blood on Heln's mouth.
“Why, Heln, what-- ” Jon was too surprised and confused to finish the sentence.
“An eagawk dropped on a sparren. I tried to get here and chase it away, but-- “
Jon's eyes were large. She was suspecting if not actually aware that Heln lied. Disbelief fought with another suspicion. The kinder, more logical thought survived.
“Oh, Heln, how terrible for you! I know how you love songbirds, how you enjoy seeing them! To have an eagawk drop on one right on the tray!”
“It was only following its nature,” Heln said. Stealthily she wiped blood from her mouth and lips, sweeping her hand as if brushing away a crumb.
“Yes, I know, but-- Heln, did you hurt yourself?”
“Bit my tongue when I tried to shout at the preybird.” She turned all the way from the window. She forced herself to move slowly, as a pregnant woman should. Without another glance at Jon she got back into bed.
“Don't you want to go for a walk this morning?”
“No!”
“But it's so nice out!”
Heln merely closed her eyes as if bored with Jon's presence, which was hardly an exaggeration.
Jon moved to her side and felt her forehead. “You have no temperature, Heln. You seem cool-- cooler than I'd think natural.”
“You ever been with child?”
“You know I haven't!”
“That's the way it is. For roundears, at least.”
“Oh.” Jon never seemed to accept that her ears were different from her brother's and Heln's. It was as if the girl thought they were all of the same species. Little did she know!
“I might take another cup of tefee,” Heln said, making another attempt to get rid of her.
“I'll pull the cord for the servant. Would you like something to eat, too, Heln? You hardly touched your groats this morning. You aren't sick again?”
“No. I told you I'm all right.” When would this nuisance of a girl go away?
Two of Jon's fingers reached out to the corner of Heln's mouth. They picked out a tiny feather. Jon eyed it, and her.
“I was too close to the kill,” Heln said. “Blood and feathers sprayed on me.”
“That must have been it,” Jon said, sounding unconvinced. She held the feather, then carried it as though to dispose of it. But she walked not to the pullcord but to the door. She hesitated, giving Heln a peculiar look, then exited.
Heln delivered herself of a long, low hiss. So good to be rid of that one, if only momentarily. She'd like to be out in the sun, soaking up its rays, warming herself and the other through and through. But Jon, she knew, would think it strange, and the doctor would find it unacceptable. Later, after the other was born, she might go with it into the sunny desert and bask in the warming light and practice-- what? She had lost the thought, frustratingly.
A mosqfly buzzed near her mouth, attracted by the stains. It lit on her upper lip, the foolish thing. Instantly her tongue darted out and rolled it into her mouth. The insect buzzed as she swallowed it.
At the same moment she felt the scuttling inside. Reaching down she patted her bulging stomach. Don't fret, Little Three Heads! Mama will feed you well.
There was no coherent answer, just a mental growl. It was too soon for the human minds to manifest. But soon that would change. All she had to do was find proper food.
Another mosqfly buzzed through the open window. She waited, rock-still, ready to capture it.
*
Dr. Sterk listened quietly as Jon described Heln's recent behavior. It was unfortunately evident what was happening to her. “And you're certain she ate it?” he asked.
“She must have! Blood all over her mouth, and this feather.” She held up the tiny feather to show him.
“The mind comports itself strangely in pregnant women. Her behavior may seem abnormal, even bizarre, but I assure you it's all part of the process.”
“Really, Doctor?” The girl had understandable skepticism.
“Really. Just keep watch and report anything that seems different. If necessary, I can always administer a stronger medicine.”
“Oh, Doctor, you've made me feel so much better! You don't know how concerned I've been!”
“I can imagine. But even pointeared women develop strange appetites and behave oddly while carrying. Just go on as you have been, and everything should be all right.”
He ushered her to the door and out. Then he allowed himself the grimace he had been suppressing.
Everything would not be all right, he thought dismally. Everything pointed to the chimaera syndrome. If that was what it was, and he was sickly certain this was the case, nothing would save that girl and her child except a certain powder.
And for that, he thought bitterly, I'd have to go to a dealer in such powders. Alas, he knew full well that any dealers who existed had to o
perate in some far-removed universe.
*
St. Helens heard them talking through the thick door. Then their jailer had the door open, and they were coming inside. He stood, reminding himself that they were royalty and that, as the saying went, brats would be brats.
They stood there with their golden crowns on their heads, two identical and apparent young boys.
“I'm Kildee, General Reilly,” said the one on the right. “I'm Klingland's monarch.”
“I'm Kildom,” said the other boy. “I'm king of Kance.”
St. Helens permitted himself a slight bow. In name only, he thought. In name only are you the rulers. And in his home world of Earth, any royalty that still existed in England and France was purely nominal. No two frames were quite the same, but certain trends did seem to carry through.
“It is our hope,” said Kildee, “that you will agree to come over to us.”
“You mean-- ” St. Helens could hardly believe this, “switch sides?”
“That would be appropriate, General Reilly,” said Kildom. The boy reached up and took off his crown; he held it down at his side as though respectfully. His twin brother duplicated his actions.
“In what way would it be appropriate? I'm a soldier and I do what's required of me.” Strange little tykes. Did they really think as men did?
“General Reilly, you are not a bad man,” Kildee said.
“Thank you. I try not to be, though with imperfect success.” If this was a game, it was better than their pee game, so he was willing to play along.
“But your side is bad.”
I've suspected that. But you can't know about the prophecy.
“There is a prophecy,” Kildee said. “We know of it from Helbah.”
He should have known! Witches had their infernal sources. “You know about a prophecy? The one concerning a roundear?”
“Yes. Concerning Kelvin of Kelvinia.”
“Then you know,” he said, sighing, “that there is little to be done to alter it.”
“Perhaps in reality but not in truth.”
This was puzzling. He hardly expected obscure philosophy from these kids.
“'Uniting four,’” said Kildom, “may not mean uniting through warfare the kingdom of Kelvinia with those of Klingland, Kance, and Hermandy.”
“No? Well, what then does it mean?”
The boy frowned. “Prophecies can be devious, Helbah says, and subject to interpretation.”
“You don't think it would mean uniting Kelvinia with the remaining three kingdoms? Throod is where every warring kingdom goes for mercenaries and weapons, while Ophal and Rotternik haven't even been penetrated since before Mouvar's visit! As far as latecomers like me are concerned those kingdoms might not even exist!”
“Nevertheless,” the boy said pedantically, “Kelvinia may not have to conquer us.”
“Don't tell me you want to surrender!” St. Helens found himself hard put to conceal his mirth. These two were really just what they seemed to be: children.
Kildom looked at Kildee and shrugged. Kildee returned the shrug. They both looked back at him. They waited.
“Well, is that what you want?” St. Helens demanded rhetorically. The punch line of their joke was about due.
“It is, General Reilly,” Kildom said.
St. Helens started to laugh, but his mouth froze partway into it. Could it be that they were serious?
“We have discussed the matter out of Helbah's hearing and we are prepared to raise the surrender flags,” Kildee said.
St. Helens felt floored. In his wildest dreams he had never anticipated this! They were playacting. They had to be. But suppose they weren't?
Better to play it serious, at least until one of them burst out laughing. “You really want to surrender? Why?”
“To save us,” said Kildee. “To end the fighting.”
“And to save our Helbah,” Kildom added.
Whoa! This was more than just interesting. “Those would be your terms? Your only terms?”
The two boys looked at each other again. “Yes, General Reilly,” they said together.
St. Helens let out a breath. This was incredible. It seemed he had won the war single-handed! This was even better than he could have imagined!
If it was true.
But if it was true, then for whom had he won it? For what? For the usurper in Kelvinia?
“Will you take our surrenders, General Reilly?” Kildom asked.
Would he? Could he? He didn't want the winner to be those two back in Kelvinia's capital. And would the prophecy be said to hold if Kelvin himself were absent? Kelvin, off in some other frame, doing the gods knew what, and unaware of what was happening here?
“I'll have to think about it, Your Majesties. I'll have to think things over.”
Now they were gaping. It seemed that they had never imagined that he would demur!
He swallowed, wanting nothing quite so much as to sink down on the pile of straw. “Please close the door tightly as you leave. I don't want to escape, and I don't want anyone rescuing me.”
The two exchanged another glance. Maybe they did understand. Certainly they knew that he was on the wrong side.
They left, leaving him with his chaotic thoughts.
CHAPTER 21
Return Journey
Kelvin hung suspended above the ledge, watching for the king's guardsmen. The updraft from the cliff was shockingly strong, much more than there had been in the other frame. He trusted his levitation belt, but this was a balancing act that made him a bit nervous.
He had left just two living men at this site, but more might have come while he was rescuing his father and brother. His gauntlets were tingling a mild warning, and that could mean that he should act while acting was still possible. The others in his party had already begun ascending the tree, certainly a more difficult task than in the world of serpents and flopears. It was time that he and the gauntlets act.
The chamber was to the left of the transporter chamber. No sign of it either from here or the ledge. He would have to just step through the rock face at the right spot, and find himself in either the transporter or up against guardsmen with swords. There was really no choice except to trust the gauntlets.
He landed on the ledge, facing the cliff face. Was he following the guidance of the gauntlets properly?
He drew his sword. All right, I'm a hero!
As though annoyed, the gauntlets yanked him forward, into rock that vanished.
He was in a chamber lit by the glow. It was otherwise unoccupied, and sparsely furnished for the comfort of vigil-keeping guardsmen. A couple of blankets, discarded crusts and rinds from lunch, and one broken wine bottle. Some vigilance!
He put his head out the shimmering blue curtain in time to see his father pulling himself up the ladder at the cliff's edge. Below him was Kian and below Kian were the others.
“Guardsmen back there! Six of them!” his father called. The updraft really pulled at him as he struggled the rest of the way up. “Redleaf got ‘em with his crossbow! Good man, that! He picked them off so fast and at such a distance that they never knew what happened!”
Kelvin sighed. More dead. That was one reason he knew he was a fraud as a hero: he hated killing. Well, it couldn't be helped. At least his kin and Loaf's Hopes were intact.
Kian came up, followed by Hester. His gauntlets gave them a hand as each arrived at the ledge. Below, Marvin Loaf was having trouble with branches and updraft. Jillip climbed past their leader, grinning broadly and devilishly as only a young rascal could. There was something insulting about the way he hung by one hand and pretended, only pretended, to give Marvin a leg up. Was it a joke, or insolence, or was the kid merely a slacker?
“Sort of slow, ain't he?” Redleaf remarked.
“Comes from too much bleer,” Bilger cracked. He had to be the thinnest, with the possible exception of Jillip.
“Bleer, you must mean Cross-eyed Jenny at the tavern!”
“Hey, I thought it was the girls who got fat!”
The Hopers chuckled and laughed at their own great wit, and generally acted like fools while Marvin wheezed along, never slowing and never wasting breath. Before he'd quite reached the top and Kelvin's reaching hand he looked up, very red in the face. “How many you get?” he inquired.
“No guardsmen,” Kelvin said, giving him the hand. “The two live ones and the dead are both missing. The men you stopped must have been replacements.”
“Very likely.”
Kelvin heaved on Marvin's arm and he came the rest of the way. As big around in girth as his look-alike, and with all the muscle, he was not built for trees and ladders. He breathed deeply for a moment, then looked down at his ascending men.
“What's the matter?” called Redleaf. “You a little winded, old man?”
“Redleaf, if you weren't the best crossbowman in existence I'd jump down there and kick your butt!”
Jillip tittered, then corked it. The big man's scowl suggested that he showed good sense.
Still grinning until the top rung, Redleaf, Bilger, and the others battled the updraft until all were together on the wide ledge.
“All right, there's no going near that transporter,” Marvin said. “But that anteroom where the guardsmen go is another matter. Have you been there, Sonny?”
“It's empty,” Kelvin said. “As I told you, no guardsmen. I made certain, just as we agreed.”
“Well, let's have a look.” John felt about until he located the entrance. He disappeared into the rock face, and Kelvin followed. One by one the others joined them. Jillip picked up the empty wine bottle and stood examining that while everyone else felt the walls.
Every wall felt solid, with the exception of one spot at the far end where there was a flat area with a transparent section at eye level. Looking through this “window” as his father would have called it, Kelvin saw the transporter.
“I don't see any button or lever in here or in there!” John complained. “Give your gauntlets an order, Kelvin. Let them search!”
Kelvin was quick to comply. The gauntlets did search, just as he mentally told them to, but they did not find anything on the flat area or its window. He wanted to go, but the gauntlets were reluctant, and kept his hands and fingers moving and pressing in various patterns.