They went behind the big house, to the stream, where an army of roasted pigeons had been buried in mud.
They talked as they ate. Presently Whandall said, “I think we shouldn’t chase him at all.”
The women waited.
“Let’s give Green Stone’s mind a chance to work. He’s deserted his wife of, what, twenty days? A marriage blessed by a wizard. He’s got fifty, sixty days to think about that, and then everyone he knows comes home and finds out what he did. You’re pregnant, Lilac, and if he hasn’t guessed that, Morth can tell him.
“Whatever Morth has in mind for Tep’s Town, if he can’t tell me, he’ll have to tell Stone. Give Stone a few days to give Morth’s intentions a hard look. They may be plain idiotic.
“In particular, I want Green Stone to feel good sense rushing back into his mind as he leaves a mountain-size love spell. It’s unforgettable. On the mountain with Morth he’ll be accepting everything he’s told, but as soon as he gets to where they left the wagon… heyyy! Lilac, you’ve been there.”
“Yes, Father-found. I didn’t realize. I just felt… like, we’d been married about a day. Making love in a scent of crushed spices,” Lilac said with a wonderfully lascivious grin that faded even as they smiled back. “But you try to share a blanket with him, when he rolls up there’s nobody in there but him. And you’d have given me more than just a wagon, Father-found.”
Willow asked, “Lilac, is Whandall talking sense?”
“That part.”
“One more thing,” Whandall said. “We can talk to them. We’ve got the bird.” Whandall lifted an arm; the bird settled. Whandall said, “We should work out what we want to say.”
“Anything to get them back here!”
“My hope lies in your shadow,” the bird said.
CHAPTER
63
Every message was sent after considerable argument. It helped that Willow could write.
“I don’t want them afraid to come here,” said Willow, “with all of us waiting to jump him.”
“Let’s not make it too easy. Curse it, the boy betrayed me too. Let’s just leave it that Green Stone is on a journey and we need to work out details. And keep it short.”
“Dear one, does it bother you that he doesn’t obey?”
Whandall stared at his mate, then laughed immoderately. “Willow, can’t you see I still have trouble saying ‘My son’? No, Saber Tooth is a good wagonmaster, and I can’t break up the Feathersnake wagons unless I’ve got two directions to send them! So what is there for my second son? He’d better be able to find his own directions.”
She smiled. Then, “Does it bother you that he chose the Burning City?”
“Yes.”
“You do all the talking, then, and you talk only to Morth, right? We women aren’t speaking to Green Stone. We’re furious. You, you’re talking business.”
Seshmarls, carry my words. Morth, my son is in your care. We need to know what you intend. Will you leave for Tep’s Town this year? Message ends. Seshmarls, go.
The bird returned two days later with Morth’s reply: We hope to.
Whandall sent: Return before his autumn wedding?
Three days later: Hope to.
Stop at the New Castle. The boy’s wife and mother are concerned.
Four days later: I’ve lost my transport! May wait for spring. Will come to New Castle whatever happens.
“That’s good!” Willow exclaimed, and made the bird repeat it.
Whandall said, “Let’s keep up the pressure.”
I remind you, you blessed this marriage. Disrupting that spell could be perilous.
“Dear, couldn’t he take that as a threat? Oh, you mean magic!”
“I meant both, curse him!”
Four days later: Understood. What we intend will make Green Stone and Lilac’s children safe for a hundred years. Stone says Behemoth is on the Hemp Road?
“I saw Behemoth once,” Willow said. “But why does the wizard want to know about Behemoth? And the Stone Needles Behemoth, it was white?”
“That idiot. That utter idiot. Ah, curse.” The women were staring. Whandall said, “Lilac, Stone won’t turn back now.”
Shall we assemble provisions? Can you grant a second wish?
The bird returned in three days. They must be in transit. I can’t prepare your second wish if you can’t describe it. We need… There followed a brief list of provisions.
Whandall said, “Morth is keeping the weight down.”
“Tell him to give us back our man!”
“If we wanted a kinless we could have raised one, Lilac. Son and husband, but not slave. Green Stone stands by his own decisions.”
“Then carve out a wish that keeps him safe until we see him again!”
“Spells don’t work in Tep’s Town—”
“They can, you know,” said Willow. “You saw ghosts in the Black Pit! And there’s magic along most of the Hemp Road—”
“Try this, then: Cast good fortune for travelers under the Feathersnake sign.”
Done. Expect us in six days.
“There’s one more thing I can try,” Whandall said, “but we can’t count on it. Willow, if Stone goes anyway, shall I go with him?”
“Yes!”
The wagon was in sight a good hour before it arrived. Morth and Stone stopped just under the Feathersnake sign, and there they prepared a brief ritual. As soon as Whandall realized he was watching magic, he went behind the house and waited until he heard the gong.
Green Stone guided the bison through the gate. Whandall made no move to stop or welcome them. This had been the topic of much discussion. But when they were firmly on his land, Whandall lifted the black glass bottle and silently showed it to Morth.
Green Stone reacted with wild laughter. “Yes! Father, it was wonderful! You should have seen it! Morth said you didn’t know—”
Morth said, “I should have bought both bottles. Curse, why not? One might break!”
“Well, yes, but what is it? But if it’s a good story, save it for the women.” Whandall led them behind the house, to a table and chairs set under a great tree. Willow and Lilac were waiting there, and servants had laid out a lunch.
Willow could think of no way to talk to her son without letting Morth of Atlantis onto New Castle land. But he wasn’t to come inside!
Whandall set the bottle on the table, waited until Morth was seated, and sat down himself. Green Stone was still standing, looking at Lilac. Lilac looked back.
“I had to wonder why you came to Road’s End,” Whandall said to Morth. “Nobody but White Lightning can make anything like this bottle. My guess is, you want to carry magic. Something like a talisman, in a cold iron glaze so nothing godlike can leach it out.”
Morth said, “Very good—”
“Father, we’ve got a whole wagon load of them!” Green Stone caroled.
Morth swallowed a snarl. Green Stone saw that… but Morth waved, Tell it, and Green Stone did.
“Father, we set up camp by the stream, on a nice wide beach of clean white sand, on the eighth night. In the morning the wizard went up the mountain. I waited for two days—”
“I wanted to borrow Behemoth,” Morth said. “The Hermit would have given him up, but I saw that the white Behemoth is the Hermit’s only friend.”
Lilac dropped her staring contest. “Borrow Behemoth?”
“I couldn’t do that to him,” Morth told her. “But at least I could deal with the bottles—”
Green Stone broke in. “Morth brought a chunk of cast iron with him, shaped like a heart with lumps around the rim, and heavy. We half buried that in the sand and he set the bottle on it. Then we went back to the wagon.
“Night came. We’d left Morth’s bottle behind a stand of bushes. Lights made scrollwork in the sky above it, curving out like a thousand whirlpools. Morth wouldn’t let me go and look. When we went back in the morning there were bottles, more than I could count. They weren’t all the same size. They t
railed off in arcs and spirals and little knots, getting smaller and smaller, no bigger than sand grains at the tips. We left most of them. I don’t know how Morth picked which ones to take.”
Morth shrugged. “I took the biggest.”
“The iron was all gone. There was just a pit shaped like a lumpy heart.”
“So,” Whandall said, “you need a lot of… what?”
“Virgin gold,” Morth said.
“Wild magic?”
“I can’t tell you any more. I wish you didn’t know as much as you do! But I can’t go near raw gold, so I’ll need help to collect it.”
“Yes. Well,” Whandall said, “I’ve examined that bottle. Then I wondered what you might not want me thinking when Yangin-Atep looks in there.”
“You’d come?”
He let his eyes flick toward Green Stone. “I’d have to.” Let the boy work out the rest.
“How often have you felt the touch of the fire god?” Morth asked.
“Yangin-Atep left me about the time you did. Just that once. I think.” Earlier? The madness with Dream-Lotus? Easy to blame that on the god, but he knew better. “Just that once, with Yangin-Atep. A season later, Coyote had me for some hours. Both did me more good than harm.”
“We should hire you out as an inn. All gods welcome at the Sign of the Winged Serpent.”
So there it was. Taking Whandall into the Burning City might tell the fire god too much. If Morth refused to carry Whandall, he might leave Green Stone too… and Whandall saw now that that wouldn’t work. He dared not let Green Stone go alone.
He said, “If rumor of the Feathersnake sign has reached Tep’s Town, you’ll be safer with me along.”
“Yes, if you can go as a legitimate merchant! Your son and I have spoken of this. The caravan must be nearly to the Firewoods already. We’ll meet them and assemble a few wagons. That will be easier with you along….”
They’d finished eating. This would have been the time to invite Morth to stay the night, but of course that wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll ask some men to load your wagon,” Whandall said.
“Good. Whandall, taking you into Tep’s Town might be too dangerous now.”
“Sorry.”
“But I need you to persuade… curse. Curse! Come. We should get on to Road’s End. We may not have much time.”
Lilac said, “I’ll come that far. Stone and I should talk. I’ll walk back.”
“Take the bird,” Willow said.
They walked into the house to get the bird. Willow asked, “What’s your intent?”
“As Morth says. Get some wagons from the caravan, and anyone who wants to come along, and goods to sell to the Lords in Tep’s Town. Come back with tar for your brothers, if nothing else.”
“You’re going, then.”
“Don’t you see? Morth offered Green Stone a ride on the Piebald Behemoth! No boy of nineteen could turn that down.”
She said, “Nor can a boy of forty-three.” Seshmarls walked onto her arm and across her shoulder to Whandall’s. “Let me know what’s happening.”
“I will.”
PART TWO
Gold Fever
CHAPTER
64
Whandall drove with Morth beside him. Lilac and Green Stone talked in the back, and whatever they babbled of persuasions and recriminations was lost. Blue in the distance, a shape from the world’s dawn ambled toward them.
Morth said, “Behemoth must be close to Road’s End by now. I wish I could have warned Twisted Cloud.”
“You know, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” Whandall said.
“I’m not crazy. Crazy would be waiting for a water elemental to find me. I don’t know what the sprite is doing. I’ve never known how far it can come inland. I’ve got to keep moving.”
Repairs, loading, rebuilding of warehouses, all had stopped while Twisted Cloud and four of the chief’s men watched Behemoth come. The men gaped in awe. Twisted Cloud was wild with laughter and delight.
The shaman caught sight of Morth. “Wizard, is that yours? The beast should be here by morning.”
“I wish it were sooner.”
“Wizard’s flattery?”
“Medicine woman’s sarcasm? I feel the elemental’s cold wet breath on my neck.”
Behemoth drifted toward Road’s End like a storm cloud. Twisted Cloud watched. “He looks to be covering a league with every step, but he isn’t. Wizard, how does one summon Behemoth?”
“Like summoning a rabbit for dinner. You must know the prey in your mind. I have Green Stone’s stories of Behemoth and his description of a dead mammoth. As you see, they were enough.”
Lilac and Green Stone would have their chance to make peace, Whandall thought, in one of the guesthouses tonight. The magicians would have to share another. Rumor told that Twisted Cloud had given up men years ago. But she seemed to get along with Morth, and Whandall wondered…. Well, after all, who wouldn’t?
By dawn light it was as if Road’s End huddled at the foot of a small hairy mountain. Behemoth was still a morning’s walk uphill and would come no closer.
Morth’s bottles, and a parsimonious few of the goods Whandall had sequestered, rode in the wagon with Lilac, Twisted Cloud, Morth, Whandall, and Green Stone. The bison ambled straight toward the great beast. Behemoth’s illusion was too big to worry them.
As they neared Behemoth, he seemed to dwindle.
When they stood beneath him, he was a living image of a mammoth. Not small! He stank like a whole herd of wild bison. His trunk took Morth’s proffered hand, and Morth spoke Atlantean gibberish. Then the beast lifted Morth into place.
Morth sang and danced on its back. The point of that became clear when dead things began raining out of its hair: parasites in wild variety, from mites too small to see up to crustaceans the size of a thumb joint. Morth brushed more from under the beast’s great flapping ears.
Under Morth’s direction they girdled the beast’s torso with the fishnet they’d carried from Great Hawk Bay.
The beast picked up the travelers one by one. Whandall managed not to scream. Green Stone lifted his arms and hugged the beast’s trunk. It lifted their cargo up to them and they tied every item carefully in the fishnet, while the bird fluttered wide around them, screaming curses. Lastly Morth summoned the bird with a gesture. Behemoth turned toward the hills.
The beast climbed steadily up a ravine, brushing aside knee-high bushes and trees, until it reached the ridge line. This high, the wind was cold. Whandall imitated Morth: he huddled prone against the beast’s back, gripping the net. It was like riding a furnace.
Compared to wooden wheels bouncing on a rutted road, this ride was wonderfully smooth. Their motion was barely felt. Whandall savored the awe and the thrill of riding a moving mountain, if not as master, at least as a guest. Was this anything like what Wanshig had felt aboard a ship?
Was this thing any faster than a bison team?
Traveling above the Hemp Road made landmarks hard to find… but that, already behind them, was Chief Farthest Land’s high peak and lookout point, as the caravan first saw it coming home. Landscape drifted by much faster than it ever would at a bison’s pace. Behemoth was fast.
Morth asked Green Stone, “Have you any idea where we might find gold? There must be rivers all along…”
Green Stone was shaking his head.
“I know a hillside covered with virgin gold,” Whandall said, “if we can find it, if it hasn’t been mined out. I went up it in the dark. Came down with Coyote in my head. But it’s south of First Pines. Now you tell me, will we pass close enough to First Pines to know this place? Stone, you’ve actually seen First Pines more often than I have.”
“I’ll ask Behemoth.” Morth crawled forward to speak into the beast’s ear.
Green Stone waved to the south. “Those are the pines, there where the land starts to dip. It looks like Behemoth wants to go above them.”
Morth returned. He said, “Behemoth believes t
hat he goes where he will, but he’s wrong. He can’t see places low in manna. They’re holes in his map. He won’t go near towns.”
“Just as well.”
Green Stone said, “So when we run out of pines we just walk on down and get the gold, yes, Father? We’ve covered a daywalk already, two wagon-days. Morth, were you going to travel at night?”
“Better not.”
They camped on the crest. Pines ran from the frost line right down into the canyon, hiding the canyon and the Hemp Road.
Morth summoned a yearling deer to roast. The bird hunted his own dinner. Behemoth ate the tops of young trees and pushed down older ones to get at their top foliage.
Next afternoon they ran out of pines. Now they could see down into the canyon. A beige trace was the Hemp Road, running almost parallel to a stream’s blue thread, but higher. The ragged slope of the far hill, and the stream that ran down the gorge, were familiar. The caravan passed twice a year, but Whandall had never been impelled to climb that hill again.
Huddled up against the forest was the town of First Pines.
Morth and Whandall were lowering cargo from the mammoth’s back. Green Stone looked from the chaparral-covered hillside across from them, down into the canyon, then at Morth’s bags of bottles. He said, “You want all of these filled with gold?”
“Yes.”
His son hadn’t quite imagined the size of this job! Whandall grinned. “We’re far enough from town, locals won’t bother us. Bandits might. We’ve been attacked here more than once. We can take a first pass this afternoon. Camp tonight at the caravan campground, watch for bandits—”
“No! Come back up. Sleep here,” Morth said. “Bandits won’t bother Behemoth.”
Sleep with Behemoth—sure, that sounds safe. “Couple of days, then, if there’s any gold. Twisted Cloud has known about this place all along. She might have told anyone.”
The Burning City Page 41
