"Well aimed, Geoffrey," Fess approved.
But the boy was staring at his accomplishment. "What doth happen to it?"
The rock was drying out and, as they watched, gained an odd, crinkled texture, with here and there a glint of reflected light. The music changed, too, gaining a new sort of piercing twang.
"Its surface has undergone a chemical change," Fess explained. "It exuded acid—but you sent it into a pit of alkali, which is a base."
"Then I have scored it with a base hit?"
"And bases and acids combine to produce salts!" Gregory said. "But why doth it glisten so, Fess?"
"Presumably this alkali was a compound of one of the heavier elements, children—or perhaps even the acid itself was. In any event, the salt is metallic."
"Aye—there is something of that in the sound." Cordelia cocked her head to the side, listening.
"But how could a soft rock turn into an acid rock?" Gregory wondered.
"An excellent question, Gregory—and one which I am sure we will find answered as we journey farther west." Fess turned his back on the alkali pit. "Come, young friends. I confess I have grown curious as to the manner of the transformation, for it is one I have never seen on Gramarye before."
"Aye!" Cordelia skipped to join him. "That is the wonder of it—that it is so new!"
Her brothers fell in behind her with varying degrees of eagerness, and marched away, following their equine guide.
Behind them, the alkali pit emitted a steady stream of sound, growing harsher and harsher as the rock hardened.
Suddenly, with a sharp report, two rocks sprang out of the pit, sailing away eastward. They flew in long flat arcs, ninety degrees apart, and when they came to earth, their music was louder.
Chapter Twelve
The day was waning as they came to a riverbank. Cordelia sank down. "Let us stay the night here, Fess, I pray thee! For I'm overborne with the toils of this day, and must rest!"
Fess tested the breeze with electronic sensors. "Not here, young friends, for the trees grow too close to the edge of the water. Only a little farther, I pray you."
"Courage, sister." Magnus extended a hand. "Tis only a little way. Lean thou on mine arm."
"Oh, I can bear mine own weight." Cordelia caught his hand and pulled herself upright. " 'Tis only the burden of all the things we've seen that doth weigh on me."
"On me, also," Gregory said.
"Aye," said Geoffrey, "yet thou art wearied by efforts other than ours, brother." He forced himself to stand straight. Together, they turned to follow the black horse, whose outline was beginning to be obscured by the dusk.
Gregory tried to blink away the sleepiness. "How dost thou mean, effort other than thine?"
"Why," said Geoffrey, "I am wearied by marching or battle, but thou art wearied by striving to comprehend anything that confounds thee."
"Everything is comprehensible," Gregory muttered. " Tis only a matter of striving, until it comes clear."
"True," said Fess. "Some problems, however, require generations of striving."
"Well, true," the little boy admitted. "Yet such riddles as those, I can tell apart in a few hours' time. 'Tis the ones for which I've all the knowledge I should need that confound me."
"I think we have not yet found all that we require." Magnus clasped his brother round the shoulder—and helped hold him up. "I, too, am worn not only with marching, but also with striving to understand."
"Riddle-me-ree, riddle-me-rune!" Cordelia sighed. "And I am wearied with seeking to riddle it out."
" 'Tis the bizarre folk we've seen, in a bazaar of sound," Magnus protested.
"And with a rack of bizarre behaviors." Geoffrey shook his head. "I ken it not."
Gregory plodded ahead, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Wherefore doth the music change so oft? Is not one form enough?"
"Or doth it truly change?" Magnus countered. " 'Tis not so great a transformation, when all's said and done. Is it truly so, or is it only as we hear it?"
"Oh, be done!" Geoffrey said, exasperated. "Dost thou say all life's but a dream?"
"Nay, then, do not wake me!" Cordelia stopped, gazing ahead. "For yonder lies a web of gossamer that no daylight mortal could sustain!"
The river widened into a small lake, overhung by willows. The rest of the forest drew back, leaving a little meadow between the bank and the forest, and the current slowed, leaving room for a great abundance of water plants. The evening mist blended outlines, and the gathering dusk made the landscape indeed appear to be something out of a dream.
"Let us rest now, I prithee." Cordelia sank into the soft meadow grass.
"Yes—this location would be appropriate," Fess said. "Boys, gather wood."
"Aye—directly, Fess." But Gregory was near to collapse, leaning back against Big Brother's knee.
"He is done," Magnus said gently.
"Nay!" Gregory struggled back upright, forcing himself to stay awake. "I am as able as any!" He looked up at the lake. "What are these flowers, Fess?"
"Some are water lilies, Gregory, but most are lotuses."
"Lotuses?" Magnus repeated. "I have ne'er seen their like before."
"We have never been so far to the west, brother, either," Cordelia reminded.
Magnus felt a weight against his leg, and looked down to see that Gregory had succumbed to sleepiness after all. He stretched his little brother out in the soft grass, with a smile of gentle amusement. "I shall gather wood, Fess. Sister, do thou…" He stopped, seeing Cordelia's lifted head. "What do you see?"
"Naught," she said, "yet I do hear yet another sort of music."
Magnus cocked his head, listening. After a few minutes, he said, "I can make out some hint of it."
"And I." Geoffrey wrinkled his nose. "Wherefore must it ever transform?"
"I too hear it," Fess said, and of course that decided the issue.
Around the curve of the river, lights came into view, seeming to float on the water. One single light drifted up higher.
"What manner of thing is this?" Cordelia wondered.
As the music came closer, they could see that the lights were campfires, with young people grouped around them, talking and laughing—and growing more intimate. Cordelia gaped in surprise, then glanced anxiously at her little brother, but he was sound asleep.
"How now!" Geoffrey said in wonder. "Do they float upon the water?"
"No, Geoffrey," Fess assured him, "they have rafts."
And rafts there were, a half-dozen or more, each with a handful of young men and women. Above each raft, a single lantern hung on a pole.
"How can they have fires on rafts without burning the logs?" Cordelia wondered.
"Mayhap they brought hearthstones," Geoffrey suggested.
One of the rafts bumped the shore near them, and a soft voice called, "Wherefore dost thou stay lonely?"
"Join us!" invited a bulky young man, beckoning to them with a smile. "Pass a happy hour, and…"
"Join us!" called a young woman's voice. "Leave thy cares to glower, and…"
"Join us!" called a dark-haired young beauty. "In our river bower, and…"
"Join us!" they called all together.
"I misdoubt me…" Magnus began, but Cordelia had no hesitation. "Up, sleepyhead!" She nudged Gregory awake. "Here are they who will spare us a long day's march on the morrow!"
"Nay," Geoffrey protested, "for we know not their intentions…"
But Cordelia had already set foot on the raft, and what could he do but follow?
"I beg you, young friends, do not!" Fess's voice said inside their heads. "You must not put yourself at the mercy of people who may be your enemies!"
"Pooh! An we cannot defend ourselves against the likes of these, we are poor fighters indeed," Geoffrey said scornfully. "And if all else fails, we may fly."
Magnus stepped onto the raft. "Come, brother. If there's a trap of some sort, each of us must clasp our sister by an arm and loft her high." He turned to swing Gre
gory aboard.
"I shall parallel your course on the riverbank," Fess assured them. "Be careful."
"We shall," Magnus subvocalized.
A wiry young man pushed with a pole, and the raft floated out into the stream.
"Come, sit by me!" A handsome young man stretched out a hand toward Cordelia. "I am Johann, and there's room a-plenty 'gainst my pillow of fragrant boughs. Come nestle with me in idle dalliance!"
"I thank thee." Cordelia sat primly, tucking her skirt about her shoes. "I've need of rest."
Johann smiled, accepting the implied refusal with equanimity. "You do seem wearied."
"Aye," Cordelia admitted, "for we have come far, and have seen much."
"And heard much," Geoffrey added. "A cacophony of sound, and seen strange ways a-plenty."
"Tis horribly confusing," Gregory sighed, "and most dreadfully ravelled."
"Then let it be." The dark-haired girl smiled up at Magnus. "I am Wenna. Unknit thy brow, and rest with me." She leaned back, hands behind her head, stretching.
Magnus's breath hissed in, his gaze fast upon her, and Geoffrey stared, spellbound.
Cordelia looked up, frowning at the sound, but Johann asked, "Is't so great a coil, then, that doth confound thee?"
"Aye." She turned back, relieved at being able to speak of it to a stranger. "We have found stones that make music, and in following them we have found strange creatures and seen folk who behave in senseless fashions. 'Tis a web proof 'gainst all unravelling."
"Ravelled indeed," said the girl behind Johann. "What confusion it is, seeking to discover why mothers and fathers do as they do, not to us alone, but to one another also."
Johann nodded. " 'Tis even as Yhrene saith."
"Aye," the wiry young man agreed. "Wherefore do they kneel to the priest, and bow to the knight? There is no sense in it."
"None, Alno," Yhrene agreed.
But Gregory objected. "They kneel to Our Lord, not to the priest! And the knight's of a higher station than they."
"Even so," a lumpish young man growled, nodding. "It all seemed so simple, when I was ten. But when I came to the brink of manhood, and did begin to act as I thought a man should, I was rebuked. When I protested that I did but as they had bade me, they told me that they had not meant it that way."
"Aye, Orin, I know the way of it," Johann said, with sympathy. "Long and long did I seek, till at last I riddled it out."
"Thou hast?" Gregory roused up, suddenly no longer at all sleepy. "How didst thou make sense of it?"
"Why, by seeing that there was no need to," Johann returned, with a beatific smile. "This was my great insight. "
Alno nodded. "And mine."
"And mine," Yhrene said, "and all of ours. What great peace it brought us!"
"What?" Gregory asked, incredulously. "Did all of you see the same answer at the same moment?"
"And all the same idea," Geoffrey murmured.
"We did, in truth." Johann smiled, quite pleased with himself. "Of a sudden, we saw there was no need to puzzle it out—only to embark upon the flood, and be happy."
"We needed but to build rafts," said Orin, "and take ourselves aboard—ourselves, and the stones that made our music."
"Oh, it is thy music, is it?" Geoffrey breathed.
"Naught but music?" Gregory was still wide-eyed. "What had you to eat?"
"The river provides." Alno reached out and pulled in a lotus as he passed. Looking up, Gregory saw that the others were nibbling the plants, too. He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked up again. "Thou dost say there was no need to puzzle out the sense of the world, and its people?"
"Aye, and what a deal of peace did it bring us!" sighed a redheaded lass.
"Peace indeed, Adele. How blessed an end to all confusion," Wenna agreed.
Orin nodded with slow conviction. "Therein lay our error—in wrestling with the world, in seeking to strive."
"Nay, surely," the dark-haired beauty agreed, "for when we cease to strive, there's an ending to strife."
"But thou dost speak of ceasing to think!"
"Aye," said Johann, "and therein lies tranquility. We ceased to ponder the matter."
"And gained a ponderous peace," Geoffrey murmured.
"But how couldst thou still the workings of thy mind?" Gregory asked.
"By hearkening to the music," Johann explained. "When thou dost think of nothing but its sweet strains, all else doth ebb from thy mind."
"I cannot believe it," Gregory protested. "Attending to music cannot obliterate thought!"
But it can, Fess's voice said inside his head, as concentration on any one notion can dull any other mental activity. And the lotus aids them in this, for it dulls the mind and induces a sense of euphoria. It is, after all, a narcotic.
"Narcotic," Gregory mused. "Doth not the word mean 'deathlike'?"
, 'Pertaining to death' might be a more accurate definition. It usually refers to a sleeplike state.
"And Sleep is the brother of Death," Gregory murmured.
Johann turned to Cordelia, holding out a lotus. "Come, join our bliss."
"By ceasing to think?" she exclaimed, shocked.
"Aye! Turn off thy mind."
"Relax." Adele gave them all an inviting smile.
"Float downstream with me." Wenna gave Magnus a roguish glance. She leaned back and stretched languorously again, holding out a hand toward Magnus. He gazed at her, fascinated, and Geoffrey stared, too.
"Whether thou canst or no, thou must not!" Gregory seemed near tears. "Thou must needs strive to understand, for all else is false!"
"But what if there's no sense to be found?" Alno said, with a skeptical smile.
"Nay there is, there must be! For why else have we minds?"
There is some sense to that notion, Fess's voice said, for your species evolved intelligence to comprehend its environment. By doing so, it became better able to survive and prosper. If the world were truly random and without sense,
the more intelligent person would not be any better fit, and so would not survive.
"Nay, in truth!" Gregory averred. "The sharper mind would be less fit for life—for the world would drive it mad!"
" Tis not so bad as that, little one." Yhrene smiled with sympathy and reached out to him. "The world is as it is; we cannot change it. We can but enjoy it whiles we may."
"But what of the morrow?"
"Tomorrow, we shall yet drift upon the river."
"But all the rivers flow home to the sea!" Gregory insisted. "What wilt thou do when thou art come to the ocean?"
Adele frowned. "Be still, mite!"
"Speak not so to my brother," Cordelia snapped, since it was the kind of thing she might have said herself.
Adele fixed her with a glare and was about to speak, but Johann forestalled her. "When we come to the ocean? Belike we shall float!"
Gregory rolled his eyes up, exasperated. "Nay, but think! What of the barons through whose lands thy river doth flow? Will they leave thee to thy pleasures?"
"Wherefore should we care? We leave them alone."
"Thou mayest leave Life alone, but it shall not always leave thee alone. What shall thou do when it doth once again touch thee?"
"Must we have aught to do with it?" Alno fixed him with a stony stare. "We have that choice. Is there a law that says we must live?"
"There is," Johann said softly, "but how shall they enforce it?"
"Aye! How shall they reach us? We float on the river!"
"Dam the river," Gregory shouted, "and they may!"
Johann waved the notion away with the first signs of exasperation. "Peace, peace! An thou wilt have it, then, there will come a day when we must strive again for an answer! Will that appease thee?"
"Nay," Gregory answered. "Dost thou not see thou must seek the means to deal with that day ere it doth come?"
"Dost thou not see that even the most earnest seeker doth need rest?" Yhrene countered, striving to keep her tone gentle.
Gregor
y paused, then finally admitted, "Aye. Even our minds need some ease. Yet tell—how long is this rest to be?"
"Oh—a day, a week!" Adele said crossly. "What matter?"
"Why," said Gregory, "so long a rest is a sleep."
"What matters it?" said Yhrene, amused now. "This is the little sleep, not the great one."
Geoffrey shrugged impatiently. "A great sleep, a little death—what difference?"
"Try the Little Death with me, and learn." Wenna stretched her arms up.
"Come dally with me!" Johann reached out for Cordelia. "Golden slumbers kiss thine eyes! Smiles shall wake thee when thou dost rise!"
"Nay," Cordelia said, as though it were dragged out of her. "I must remain vigilant."
Adele exhaled a sigh of frustration, and Johann said, smiling, "But even the watchman must rest, soon or late. Come, repose thy brain awhile, as we do. Hearken to the words of the music and let them fill thy mind."
"Words?" Geoffrey looked up, alert. "What words are these?"
"Why, in the music," said Orin. "Has thou not heard them?"
"Pay heed," Yhrene suggested.
The Gallowglasses frowned, listening.
"I hear it," said Cordelia, "but 'tis not a voice. 'Tis the music itself doth speak."
"Yet I ken not the sense of it," Geoffrey said dubiously.
"Thou hast but to attend," Yhrene assured them. "It will begin again. It ever does."
And it did, repeating itself. It only lasted a few minutes, but it started again immediately—and again and again, cycling on and on. Gradually, the words became clearer:
Why do they do the things they do?
Why is the world as it is?
Why are there customs, and why are there laws?
Why must we labor, with never a pause?
Why are we living, and where is our cause?
And why must we never stray? Why not just turn away?
Why do our parents do as they do?
Who bade them leach out their time?
Why must they labor all day on the soil?
Why must so many grieve, and so many toil?
Why to those who command them must they ever be
loyal?
Why so many questions to cause us turmoil? And why must we obey? Why not just turn away?
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