Lyonesse II - The Green Pear and Madouc (54 page)

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.”

“A good idea,” said Zuck. “Take the pony cart, so that you may make haste. Ride out Giliom’s Lane this very moment; cut neither buds nor seed-pods, only those flowers which have come into full bloom. In this manner we will not injure the growth.”

“Just so,” said Yossip. “I will need a sharp knife to cut the stems and a bite of bread and cheese to stay me along the way, which, as I recall, is two or three or even four miles down the lane.”

“Go then, and do not loiter!”

As soon as Yossip had departed, Zuck closed the booth. He borrowed a mount from an acquaintance at a nearby booth and set off after Yossip. He rode with stealth and caution, pacing himself by the squeak and clatter of the pony cart. When the lane turned, Zuck hastened forward, to peer along its way ahead, and then ride swiftly to the next turning, so remaining close behind Yossip but always out of sight.

The sound of the cart suddenly ceased. Zuck dismounted, tied the horse and advanced on foot. The cart had halted in the middle of the lane and Yossip was nowhere to be seen.

“Well done!” said Zuck to himself. “Here is the site of the mysterious garden! It is all I need to know!” Now-to return to the booth in haste, and Yossip would never know that his secret had been broached.

Zuck’s curiosity prompted him to steal forward, for a better indication as to the location and size of the flower bed. Step by wary step he came down the road, running at last on tip-toe, darting glances to right and left.

Yossip stepped from the shadows carrying a small bouquet of four flowers. He seemed not at all surprised to find Zuck on hand.

“I came in haste,” said Zuck. “I decided to use bunting and multicolored streamers for my decoration, rather than despoil the flower bed; therefore I thought to inform you at once of my new plans.”

“That was kind of you,” said Yossip. He seemed to have difficulty speaking; he warbled and lisped. “But what of these flowers I have already cut?”

“Bring them along; better yet, give them into my care. Are there others in bud?” “Very few.”

Zuck looked frowningly slantwise at Yossip. “Why are you speaking with so odd a voice?”

Yossip grinned, showing silver teeth. “As I worked, I disturbed the soil and discovered this wonderful gem.” He took a lambent green sphere from his mouth. “For convenience I carry it thus.”

“Amazing!” said Zuck. “Allow me to examine it.”

“No, Zuck! By stealth you learned the secret of my garden. By nature, I am easy, even ingenuous; but on this occasion I must pass a judgment, and your deceit must be punished by death.” So saying, Yossip stabbed Zuck first in the neck with the knife he had used to cut flowers, then in the heart. Then, to halt Zuck’s twitching, he thrust the knife hard into Zuck’s right ear, all the way to the hilt. “Now then, Zuck! We have properly put an end to your skulkishness. I will say no more of the matter.”

Yossip rolled the corpse into the ditch, and returned to the meadow, leading the horse Zuck had ridden behind the can. Yossip returned the horse to its owner, who asked in wonder: “And where is good Zuck, who rode off so briskly?”

“He has gone to examine a new line of merchandise,” said Yossip. “I must meanwhile take care of the booth.”

“That is a great responsibility for an inexperienced stripling like yourself! If you find any difficulties, or if you suspect that you are being cheated, call me and I will set matters right!”