by John Hosh
“But I was never in. I did not come out.”
“Then you have no business here. You are wasting my time. You are behaving like a human. Goodbye.”
The gap in the slope disappeared. Jono sighed. Using his right hand, he tapped two times; then two more.
“Password?”
Jono said gruffly, “Sirius.”
“That’s not the password.”
Jono said gruffly, “Betelgeuse.”
“I’m not going to tolerate that kind of language. Either give me the password, or go away.”
“I forget the password.”
“No password means no entry. You know that.”
Jono sighed. He asked, “Would asparagus do?”
“No.”
“Is the password borborygmus?”
“You’re wasting my time. Go away.”
The gap disappeared. Jono sighed. He scuffed his way to the boulder. On the spot where he had been, he sat. He put his back against the boulder.
A short while later a chubby creature tapped at the slope. The gap appeared. Jono jumped up. The door opened. Jono leapt toward it. The creature, carrying a bowl, stepped into the slope. Jono lunged after the creature. Inside the slope he took two steps and halted. He was one step behind the creature.
Jono was in a bright, cave-like entrance — a vestibule. Several oil-lamps were burning to Jono’s left and to his right. Next to the earthen walls, the lamps were on each of two pedestals that were no higher than Jono’s waist. Each pedestal looked like a shiny orange mushroom.
The vestibule’s floor was of gray rock. The vestibule’s ceiling was a big, round sheet of a hard, shiny, orange material. A pillar to Jono’s left and a pillar to Jono’s right pushed the orange ceiling-sheet against the earth that was above the vestibule. A little taller than Jono could reach, the pillars were the same shiny orange as the pedestals.
The creature that had gone into the slope ahead of Jono waddled away from him between the pillars. Giving no sign that it had heard Jono, the creature waddled toward an opening shaped like an upside-down cup. The opening was higher than Jono was tall; it was wider at the bottom than a goat is long.
The sliding-door closed while Jono was turning toward it. Near the door a chubby creature was facing Jono. The creature was human-like but it had a very big nose, bulging dark eyes and very bushy eyebrows. Shorter than Jono, the creature had long black hair but neither a beard nor a mustache. The creature was wearing a sleeveless grass jacket and a grass skirt. The creature’s bare feet stepped back from Jono. The creature stammered, “You are not permitted in here.”
“I mean no harm,” Jono announced. He held up his empty hands. “I want to know if there is a cornelian cherry tree nearby.”
“Are you a spy?”
“I’m a shepherd.”
“You’re a shepherd-spy, you say?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I want to talk to somebody.”
“Who do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know who you want. Do you know why you want whoever you want?”
“I’m looking for a cornelian cherry tree.”
“Why do you want a cornelian cherry tree?”
“I just do.”
“Are you carrying a weapon?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I would know if I had a weapon.”
“You could be mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken.”
“You could be lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Ah, but you could be lying. You are human; aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there you are. Humans are well known for lying and for carrying weapons.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“So you say. I’ll need to search you.”
“Go ahead. I have no weapons. I’m a shepherd. If you will tell me where I can find a cornelian cherry tree, I will be on my way.”
“Will you now? We’ll see.”
The creature swaggered toward Jono. “Put your arms out to the side,” the creature said. Jono lifted his arms. The creature patted Jono’s front.
Jono said, “What are you?”
“I’m a spud. Turn around.”
Jono turned his back to the spud. “I haven’t heard of a spud,” Jono said.
The spud patted Jono’s back and fondled his cloak. “Put your arms down,” the spud said. Jono put down his arms. He turned to face the spud. “I cannot leave my post,” said the spud. “I cannot take you into the community, but that is where you will have to go if you want to know about trees. I don’t know if someone there can help you, but you may find someone who can. I doubt that you will, but you might. Perhaps you would prefer to leave?”
“No. I need to find a cornelian cherry tree — and quickly.”
“In that case, I suggest you ask someone in the community. I don’t know anything about trees. Trees are not my department. I am the doorspud.”
“How do I go into the community?”
“You go straight ahead.”
“Is there someone I should find?”
“Yes.”
When the spud did not offer any more information, Jono asked, “Who?”
“You might try the Assistant to the Associate Consultant.”
“How do I find . . . what you said?”
“Walk straight. You are on Main Street. Can you remember that? This is Main Street, the principal or chief or most important street. You will come to a road that runs from left to right across Main Street. Do you know your left from your right?”
Jono sighed. “Yes,” he said.
The spud waddled toward the cup-shaped opening. Facing the opening, the spud pointed with his left hand. He talked over his left shoulder. He said, “This is your left.”
“I know.”
“The first road that runs from left to right,” said the spud, “is First Avenue. Can you remember that? First Avenue. It’s the avenue that is first. It is the avenue to which you come before you come to any other avenue. Turn to your left on First Avenue,” said the spud. He jabbed his left index finger several times to his left. “Go to the house at the end of First Avenue. Ask for the Assistant to the Associate Consultant. The Assistant may be able to help you. Have you got that?”
“Associate Assister to—”
“You should keep your ears open when spuds are talking to you. You want the Assistant to the Associate Consultant.”
“Assistant to the Associate Consulter.”
“No, no. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Consultant, not Consulter. You want the Assistant to the Associate Consultant. Got it?”
“I think so.”
Chapter 15 : Buzzard
Above Sternon Island, a giant, four-eyed buzzard was chasing Helice and Iphitus. The wizards were eluding the buzzard by banking from side to side. Half a score of spear-lengths behind the buzzard, a wand glowed. The wand spit a few sparks. The wand vanished.
The buzzard surged toward Helice and Iphitus. Helice and Iphitus dipped, weaved and banked. The buzzard flapped after them.
A tail-feather jerked away from the buzzard. While that feather was wafting toward the sea, a second tail-feather jumped from the buzzard. A third tail-feather recoiled from the bird. A fourth drifted away. In quick succession, a handful of tail-feathers sprang out of the great bird. The buzzard pitched forward abruptly. Squawking and spinning, it plummeted toward the sea.
Near the water, the buzzard shattered into a shower of raindrops. At the same time, a tail-feather that was still well above the sea transformed into a mist. Helice and Iphitus circled downward.
****
Mentor landed where he had left Helice and Iphitus. “Katabasticize,” he ordered. He made himself visible. He picked up his broom. “Microsize,” he ordered. His broom shrank to half the length of a wand. He put the broom into his cloak. He pulled the wand from his cloak. “Illumine,” he ordered.
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sp; “Illumine,” said Aegis. He pulled his hood off his head as he was rising from sitting. Holding the wand close to his face, he stepped from the orchard toward Mentor. Aegis called, “Mentor, I can’t find either Helice or Iphitus!”
“They ran into some trouble,” Mentor replied. “They should be back soon.”
A moment later Helice and Iphitus touched down beside Mentor. “Katabasticize,” they ordered. They picked up their brooms. They drew their wands. “Illumine,” they ordered. Aegis stepped close to the other wizards.
Helice announced, “A monster chased us. It was really big — bigger than a stork. But first it was in the brook. And it looked like a wolf but big. Then it was like a man. And it was water too. It came after us. Isn’t that right, Iphitus?”
“It is. And then, when it was a bird, it chased us through the sky; but then it fell. It went spinning.” Holding his wand with its point toward the ground, Iphitus whistled a loud-to-soft refrain while he moved the wand in a circuit that he made smaller with each pass. “Then puft,” Iphitus puffed, “it vanished.”
“Iphitus, tell me what happened, from the beginning,” Mentor said.
“Helice and I were talking,” Iphitus replied. “And water came up out of the brook. And then the water turned into a man. He wanted us to go with him. He said there was a feast. We said we had to stay here — to wait for you.”
“Good for you,” Mentor declared.
“And then he turned into a wolf or something,” Helice said. “It growled at us, but then it went away. We heard it go into the orchard. Right after that, this big black thing — taller than the trees — came after us. It used its wings to blow us toward the brook. We took to our brooms but it chased us. Then it fell.”
“I caused it to plummet,” Mentor said.
Aegis asked, “What was it?”
“It was a god,” Mentor advised. “My wand had no effect on it. I tried to turn it into a dove but nothing happened. I thought, if I yanked on its tail-feathers, I could make it turn away from Helice and Iphitus, but it kept going until it couldn’t fly any more.”
Aegis wondered, “Was it Proteus?”
“It may have been,” Mentor said.
Iphitus asked, “Who is Proteus?”
“Proteus is one of the most evil sea-gods,” Mentor answered. “The stories have him taking on the shapes of humans and beasts. The stories say he goes up rivers and streams to find people to eat. You didn’t do anything in the water; did you?”
Helice mewed, “No.”
“No,” said Iphitus. He wagged his chin.
Aegis yawned, “Did you find Chloë?”
“She wasn’t on the boat,” Mentor answered. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Chapter 16 : Village of the spuds
Out of the vestibule, Jono stepped onto a declining clay ramp. The ramp was wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. It was almost as long as Jono’s walk up from the shore. The ramp gave way to a road of hard clay: Main Street. Main Street was wide enough for five spuds to stand side-by-side. Main Street ran, in a little more than the ramp’s length, straight into a village.
At the center of a big cavern that was not much higher than a cornelian cherry tree, the village was surrounded by rectangular fields. Footpaths and pedestals or pillars marked the edges of the fields. The fields occupied twice as much of the cavern’s floor as the village.
Sticking up from the village and from the fields were many pillars, which were like the pillars in the vestibule. All the pillars touched the cavern’s ceiling. There each pillar was holding in place a disk of the shiny orange material.
Sturdy nets connected each shiny disk to others. In this way the nets covered most of the ceiling. Above Jono a net had caught a white rock that was as big as Jono’s head.
First Avenue was almost as wide as Main Street. The side of First Avenue that was nearest to Jono did not have any houses or other buildings. The side of First Avenue that was farthest from Jono was lined with houses both on Jono’s left and on his right.
Beyond First Avenue were half a score of avenues. Five streets, each two paces wide, crossed the avenues on Jono’s left, and five streets crossed the avenues on Jono’s right. Between each set of any two streets that ended at First Avenue were four houses.
All the houses were made from straw and clay. The houses along First Avenue had one front doorway. Each doorway had a door of thatch that was held together by twine. Each house had for a front window an uncovered hole through the wall. The hole was a little wider in diameter than a person’s head.
The cavern was neither bright nor dark. Light came from oil-lamps in the houses, which had neither roofs nor ceilings, and from oil-lamps on short pedestals that were like those in the vestibule. The pedestals lined the streets and the avenues, and marked the corners of some fields.
Jono stepped down the ramp. Wrinkling his nose and sniffing, he drifted to his left. He ambled off Main Street onto First Avenue. Using the back of his hands, he wiped some perspiration from his forehead. He removed his water-skin and his cloak. He bundled his cloak under his left arm, and put the water-skin’s strap over his head to make the water-skin hang against his right side.
Jono walked to the last house on First Avenue Left. Jono was nearly as tall as the house. Beside the front doorway, a pipe of shiny orange material one hand long and as thick as a finger was sticking out of the wall at the height of Jono’s waist. Dangling by twine from the pipe were several similar pipes that were held together by twine.
Stepping in front of the doorway, Jono called softly, “Hello.” No one responded. Jono called a little more loudly, “Hello.” Jono fingered the pipes. He took the dangling pipes off the pipe in the wall. Jono shook the pipes. They clinked and clanked.
A spud, dressed in a grass skirt, pulled the thatch door inside. He stepped in front of Jono. The spud stammered, “What are you?”
“I’m a shepherd,” Jono said.
“You are not dressed as a shepherd,” said the spud. “Shepherds do not wear white shirts, black skirts and boots.” He scratched his left buttock.
“I found these clothes.”
“You’re a human; aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a liar then.”
“No. The fellow at the front door said you could help me.”
“The doorspud? Oh well, if the doorspud said it, it must be true; mustn’t it? Well, what do you want?”
“I’m looking for a cornelian cherry tree.”
“I don’t like liars, you know — never have; never will. I don’t have much use for humans generally — dirty creatures; always chopping down trees; using slaves. You know this island once had trees all over it. You could not make a hop, a skip and a jump without crashing into a tree. And all kinds of trees there were too but then the humans came — bad news! No, humans are not my kind of animal — oh my, no. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Jono shook the pipes. “Can you help me find a cornelian cherry tree?”
“There’s no reason to go on ringing the door-pipes now that I’m here; is there?” The spud snatched the pipes from Jono. The spud hung them on the pipe in the wall. He turned toward Jono. The spud stared at Jono. The spud demanded, “Well, what do you want?”
Jono sighed loudly. He spoke slowly, “Can you tell me where I may find a cornelian cherry tree?”
“I cannot. Cornelian cherry trees are not my department. Maybe my neighbor can help you. He’s the Assistant Consultant to the Associate Assistant to the Supervisor. He might know about cornelian cherry trees. I doubt it, mind you, but he might. You might try him.” The spud pointed to the next house on First Avenue. He went into his house.
Jono sighed. He mumbled, “Assistant association to . . . .” He dragged his feet to the next house. He rang the orange pipes. A spud very much like the spud who Jono had recently left stepped out of the house.
The spud said, “What are you?” He scratched the top of his head.
�
��I’m a lost boy.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know where I may find a cornelian cherry tree.”
“Why do you want a cornelian cherry tree?”
“I need it for . . . to use . . . uh, to do . . . that is, to make medicine.”
“Medicine? I haven’t heard of a cornelian cherry tree being used for medicine. Are you sure you want a cherry tree? Maybe an apple tree would be better. Do you want an apple tree?”
“No, I want a cornelian cherry tree.”
“Would a pear tree suffice?”
“No.”
“Would a pomegranate tree be satisfactory?
“No.”
The spud clucked, “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He pointed to the next house on First Avenue. “You might ask my neighbor. He’s the Consulting Associate to the Supervisor’s Assistant. He might know something about cherry trees. Cherry trees are not my department.”
“Thank you. I will talk to him.”
The spud pushed aside his thatch door and stepped inside his house. Jono walked to the next house. Jono shook the pipes at the next house. A spud’s arm pushed aside the thatch door. A spud stepped boldly through the doorway. He was not wearing any more than the spuds who Jono had recently met.
The spud’s bulging black eyes blinked at half-speed. The spud said, “What are you then?” He blew his big nose by holding his right index finger over his right nostril and snorting to his left. Then he blew his big nose by holding his left index finger over his left nostril and snorting to his right.
Jono jumped out of the way of the spud’s snorts. The spud rubbed his right arm against his nose. He sniffed.
“I’m a boy,” said Jono.
The spud sniffed, “I can see that. Why are you here?”
“I want to know where I may find a cornelian cherry tree.”
“You want a cornelian cherry tree?”
“Yes.”
“You would not be satisfied with another kind of cherry tree — a Corinthian cherry tree, for instance?”
“No.”
“Would you like an Ionian cherry tree?”
“No.”
“I see. You must have a cornelian cherry tree; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. And why must you have a cornelian cherry tree?”
“My father said I must bring him a cornelian cherry tree. He said nothing else will do.”
“You’re a human; aren’t you?”
“I’m a wizard,” Jono said.
“A wizard? You don’t say. We don’t get many wizards in these parts. We get loads of humans, but wizards, well, they are as rare as pigeons’ teeth. I haven’t met a wizard myself. I’ve heard stories, of course. Can you do some tricks . . . turn into a tree or something?”
