“I wouldn’t say that,” Hank said, grinning. “But she can do some things you can’t do.”
“That I don’t believe,” Lamblo said. “Come on, Hank. Don’t tease me.”
He told her about Jenny.
Lamblo shivered and moved closer to him.
“It’s witch-art. Glinda must have done it.”
“I’d like to know how. And why.”
“You’re better off not knowing. And not asking.”
“I have to.”
“Don’t, please don’t, anger Glinda.”
“Glinda the Good? If she’s so good, she won’t hurt me.”
“Glinda’s good is the good of the people. You’re just one person, and an alien at that. She doesn’t know, no one knows, what’s going to happen because you came here. And she can’t be sure that you’re not a spy.”
Hank was indignant.
“I am Dorothy’s son!”
“Yes, but that’s not the same as being Dorothy. Besides, if your mother came back now, she’d be suspected. She’s an adult, and...”
“Nuts!” Hank shouted. “Pure essence of horse poppy!”
“Now, now, my little giant.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Hank said. “Look. I’ve been tested... the Black Pearl of Truth, you know. What more does Glinda need?”
“The real test hasn’t come up yet. You’re going to have to make a choice between us and your country. It’s bound to happen. Glinda says...”
“Well, what does Glinda say?”
“I have such a big mouth. I’m sorry. I can’t say any more on that subject. Glinda will have to deal with that. Please forgive me.”
“For telling the truth? Nothing to forgive.” Nevertheless, he was angry with her. How dare anyone doubt his integrity?
Later that night, after much undulation of anxiety, sleepless while Lamblo snored as gently as a cat, he admitted that Glinda was right. She was always right. He hated her for that.
Ot, the hawk, had shown up. But she was no longer Ot.
Hank found that out the next day. He overheard one of his “mechanics” mention her name, and he asked the man to repeat what he’d said.
“Oh, she showed up before you did. I suppose it was instinct that made her come back here or maybe she hadn’t, somehow, forgotten everything. The first thing she did after she rested was to kill a chicken and eat it.”
The mechanic shuddered. “She was caged, of course. She won’t be put on trial, but she can’t be let loose either.”
“What’re you talking about?” Hank said.
The little man looked up puzzledly at Hank.
“She was dispossessed. I thought you knew about it. But then...”
“I’m still an ignoramus in a lot of things. Where is Ot?”
He was taken to the front courtyard of the castle. There was a stand there with a large cage on top. Ot, or what had been Ot, was behind the bars. She glared at Hank with wild fierce beautiful eyes. Hank spoke to her, but she screamed at him, and when he put a finger between the bars, she hurled herself at it. Hank withdrew it just in time to escape its being torn off.
“Reverted;” the mechanic said. “Her soul’s gone.”
He crossed himself.
“Where’s it gone?” Hank said.
“Only God knows.”
“No,” Hank muttered. “I’ll bet Glinda knows, too.”
He had a theory. If it was right, that first lightning ball, or whatever it was, had left the plane to shoot after Ot with the intention of dispossessing the sentient entity in her and occupying her itself. Though it had ousted the original possessor, it had failed to take occupancy. Meanwhile, a second ball had formed. Or, if it already existed, it had been invisible until it used the electrical energy in the atmosphere to form the sphere.
Or had he put all his available data into the wrong theory? Was he wrong because he did not have all the data he needed?
He felt very frustrated. He also felt sorry for the hawk.
“Is she going to be kept in the cage until she dies?” he said.
“I don’t know. That’s up to Little Mother. The hawk can’t be let loose. She’d murder more chickens. Even if she were released in the woods, she’d probably prey on the domestic fowl. Also, since she’s nonsentient, she’d be handicapped, she couldn’t compete with the other hawks. She’d probably starve to death.”
Glinda’s hawks got their meat by going to the woods where the wild creatures were, and there they caught mice, rabbits, and other small animals. But, since these were sentient, they were not as easy prey as they would have been on Earth. The hawks never seized enough to satisfy their bellies. They depended largely on the indigenous meat nuts, shelled fruit containing a very high percentage of protein. These filled their guts—they were not stinted on these—but they did not satisfy the hawks’ craving for real meat. Hence, they were given leave at regular intervals to go hunting in the woods. The mice, rabbits, gophers, wild ducks, and pheasants did not like that, but their treaty with humans did not include protection from domestic birds of prey.
“Has this happened to other hawks?” Hank said.
“Not very often, but it does happen.”
“What was done to them?”
“They were left in the cages for a year. If they were not repossessed by then, they were executed. It’d be cruel to free them. They’d just die of hunger.”
“Since this can happen to hawks,” Hank said, “it must also happen now and then to other animals. And, I assume, to humans. Isn’t that right?”
The mechanic crossed himself and said, “I have heard that it does. However, except for some stories which I do not believe because Little Mother says they’re not true, the only ones who’ve ever been possessed are idiots.”
Those who belonged to the main church made the sign of the cross and invoked Marzha, Hailag Aithii of Kristuz-Thun (Mary, Holy Mother of Christ-Thor). Sometimes she was called other names, though Nantho was the favorite. Nantho, if Hank remembered correctly, was the name of an ancient Gothic goddess. There was also confusion about Christ, because sometimes he was called Thun and sometimes Ogiiz. Hank did not know the origin of the latter name.
They had a form of the Mass, called the Kollekta in some regions and the Bread-breaking in others. It was conducted in a barbarous Latin, the translation of which had been lost.
The Goths must have entered this world with all or part of copies of the New Testament translated into Gothic. But the text had become corrupted and expanded since then, and the religion had also been changed and accreted. The Terrestrial and Orthodox churches would regard this branch of the church as heretical. But then the Amariikians would consider those two to be in grave error.
At noon, Hank was summoned to the conference room. Glinda, the two kings, and the human and animal counsellors were there.
“How soon can you leave?” the queen said.
“In half an hour. The spare wheels are ready, but if the battery goes dead, I’m out of luck.”
“So be it. You should be able to get to the third refueling station before nightfall. You’ll go to Oz first. After you drop Niklaz off, return to the Oz capital and help out the troops for five days. Do—what do you call it?—strafing. Anything you can do with your airplane. Then, regardless of the situation there, come back here. The next message from your people will be coming through shortly after your return.”
“If I return,” Hank said. “You surely realize, Glinda, that I might be attacked by Erakna’s birds again. Or I could have an accident. Or...”
“Yes, I know,” Glinda said. “There’s also another danger. I’ve just learned that Erakna has stolen the Golden Cap of the Winged Monkeys. Do you know what that means?” Hank nodded.
The West Witch had had the Cap when Dorothy had been a prisoner in the Witch’s castle. After Dorothy had thrown water on the Witch and the Witch had become, as it were, puddled, Dorothy had taken the Cap. After Dorothy had used the three wishes—“wishes”?—
which the Cap’s owner could use to control the Winged Monkeys, Glinda had given the Cap to the Monkeys’ king. From then on, it was assumed, the Monkeys would be free. They would not be snatched away from whatever they were doing and be forced to do whatever a non-Monkey Cap owner wished, things which were often inconvenient and sometimes extremely dangerous for the Monkeys. Now they were in servitude again.
Hank thought, How does the Cap work? How could it make slaves out of the Monkeys? Why just three wishes?
“I don’t know if the Uneatable would use them against you as yet,” Glinda said. “However, I’m sure that she considers you a major threat to her. Otherwise, she’d not have sent those hawks after you. She might send the Monkeys to kill you and destroy the plane. Or she might just use the hawks again. Now that you have those machine guns, do you think you’d have a good chance to defend yourself against those flying simians?”
Hank shrugged, and he said, “It depends upon the situation. Jenny isn’t a fast and highly maneuverable military plane. I really can’t say.” He paused.
“Maybe I should ask her. After all, she’s in just as much danger. She might not want to volunteer for hazardous duty.” Glinda smiled, and he knew that she knew. “Chenny isn’t a free-will agent yet. She’ll depend upon you. In fact, she’s your subject and you’re her king. For a while, anyway. She’s like a baby duck; she attached herself to the first living thing she saw when she, ah, came out of wherever she’d been before.”
“In that case,” Hank said, “why didn’t the Scarecrow attach itself to the farmer who made it? The farmer would’ve been the first living being it saw.”
“You’re a thinker,” Glinda said, smiling. “Ask the Scarecrow.”
Hank looked at the thing.
“I was very much attached to the farmer,” it said. “I longed to get down off the pole and go with him. But he deserted me, and for a long time I had only crows for company. Then your mother came along and got me free, and I, uh, transferred, you might say, my dependence and my great affection to her. Still, I write—dictate, rather—a letter to the farmer once a year. And I take a great interest in his happiness.”
“That’s enough of questions,” Glinda said. “Leave now.”
“Pardon me,” Hank said. “This concerns the trip. Will a hawk guide me? As you know, Ot is... out of it.”
“You shouldn’t need a guide,” the queen said. “You’ve been over the route. But, yes, I’ve arranged for three hawks to go with you. One will stay with you as your guide.”
Hank thanked her, bowed, and went to his suite to pack. Lamblo entered just as he had finished. She wrapped his waist with her arms and pressed one side of her face against his stomach.
“Oh, Hank, I have a terrible feeling about this trip. A premonition of death. I won’t ever see you again!”
Tears wet his shirt. He lifted her up and kissed her.
“Don’t worry. Premonitions mean nothing. I’ll be fine.”
He sat down on the bed and put her on his lap.
“I’ll be gone about nine or ten days. You’ll just have to control your randiness until I get back.”
“It’s not that!” she cried. “You know it’s not! I love you, Hank!”
He planted a smacker on top of her blonde hair. He smelled fresh air and a very faint odor of violets. She was beautiful and lots of fun and a great bed partner and exuded outgoingness and courage. He was very fond of her, but he did not love her. Still, in a sense, he did love her. And so he was not wholly lying when he said, “I love you, too.”
She got off his lap and turned to look up at him. Those blue eyes were so full of love and trust that he felt guilty.
“Enough to marry me?” she said.
Now was no time to hesitate.
“Sure,” he said.
Why not? He would never have Glinda, and he was not certain that, if he did, he would like it. On the other hand—life was so otherhanded and underhanded, too—was he a coward? Afraid to hurt her by saying that he did not love her? When she would be hurt much more later on if things soured between them or he regretted having this impulse?
“Sure,” he said again, smiling. He had thought of a good reason to delay any wedding.
“Sure. I’d marry you. But, Lamblo, what if I’m faced with having to choose between the Quadlings and my own people? I mean... I don’t know what’s going to happen. For all I know, there may be war, my country might invade this world. Just to keep your people from invading, I’m sure.”
But he was not so sure.
“Your world is an unknown quantity. The Army officials will be afraid that Amariiki might be a danger to the United States. To our whole world.”
Lamblo had backed away from him. She said, “But your people will find out that we’re no threat to them at all. We’re not, you know, and you’ll tell them that.”
“They might not believe me. Anyway, they won’t quit trying to get here. They know this world is here, and just because it is, and because they’ve never been here, they’ll come. They have to. It’s true that, as of now, no other government knows about this world. But some other nation might find how to open the way. If this happens, then the government of that country will try to get here. My government knows this. They’ll want to be the first here.”
“And you’ll help them do it?”
“Well, I really don’t know. It’s my patriotic duty. Still...”
“Glinda has told the counsellors what might happen if more Earthpeople come here. It would be terrible! Ghastly! Surely, Hank, you have a higher duty! A duty to humanity! You’re not some tribal savage who thinks only of his little group and everybody else can go jump off the edge of the world!”
Hank sighed, and he stood up.
“I’m late now. I have to go now. We’ll talk about this when I come back.”
A minute later, he was on his way to the hangar. He felt unhappy. He knew that, when he got back, he’d be confronted with the same situation. What would he do then?
He had no idea. However, he could think a lot about it while he was gone. If he had any time to do so.
When he got to the hangar, he found his passengers and Glinda there. He was irked. Glinda had come down to see the two rulers off but had not bothered when he had left for the first trip. After all, wasn’t he the ambassador from Earth to Oz? He did not apologize for being late. He put his carpetbag in the storage compartment, and he said, “All’s ready. Let’s go—”
While Glinda embraced the kings, he went to the front of the plane and spoke in a low voice into Jenny’s left ear.
“I changed my mind about you doing the piloting. I mean, I’ll let you do it under certain circumstances. Just now, as a test, I want you to turn on the motor, taxi out, and take off. When we land at the first station, I’ll teach you some simple signals for use while we’re in the air. Later, we should be able to work out a more complicated system.”
“May I ask why you changed your mind?” the airplane said.
“Sure. I was letting my pride override my sense of reality.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll explain some other time. Glinda is fidgeting. We’d better take off before the Queen of Hearts has my head chopped off.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
The royal band was blaring nearby. Hank could barely hear himself now. He gestured at the two rulers, and they left Glinda and hurried towards him, one of them too stiff in his movements and the other too flexible. Hank helped them get into the rear cockpit. He had transferred the joystick to the front cockpit because he could only operate the machine guns from that position. Two of the hawks got in with Their Majesties, and the other, Listiig, flew to the front seat. Hank got in, waited until the mechanic had put ether in the carburetor, and then yelled, “Contact!”
Despite the band’s noise, Jenny heard him. While Hank restrained the impulse to turn on the ignition and to keep his hands and feet off the controls, the propeller began turnin
g slowly. The engine whined, then roared. Hank looked at Glinda and smiled. The wind from the propeller was unravelling her auburn hair and blowing her skirt up to her crotch. She was not trying to keep the skirt down; three centuries had made her indifferent to any code of modesty except her own.
After warmup, Hank checked the water temperature, oil pressure, and tach rate. Then Hank gave the signal for the mechanics to pull the chocks from the wheels. The plane began moving, left the hangar, and headed toward the northwest corner. Apparently, Jenny knew the direction of the wind by looking at the windsocket or she could detect it by her sensory system.
A BARNSTORMER IN OZ by Philip José Farmer Page 15
