Donnerjack

by Roger Zelazny

* * *

  Alice Hazzard, oka Lincoln Crain, was impatiently watching both the oval temple and the factory when she spotted a group emerging from the temple.

  “There’s my father!” she said. “Is that an escort or a guard surrounding him?”

  “Either/or,” Drum answered, after examining them for a moment. “No one has a weapon at his back, but they’re watching him carefully— and that grouping around him would keep him from deciding to take a walk.”

  “They’re coming this way,” Virginia said. “That is, they’re coming to the factory.”

  “Makes sense,” Drum said. “Mizar sensed Bansa’s device in the factory and Ambry is what’s left of Bansa.”

  “What could they want?” Alice said. “If our guesses are right, they’re already duplicating the device.”

  “Bansa died using the device,” Dubhe said bluntly. “That’s how my old boss got it. My guess is they want him to improve it.”

  “And he won’t,” Alice said, a surge of pride in her voice. “Now how are we going to free him?”

  “And where?” Drum added. “We still haven’t seen Jay. If he’s having trouble inside, it would be best if we coordinate our efforts to help him.”

  No one mentioned the possibility that Jay might be dead, but from the sudden uncomfortable quiet that fell over the group each knew the others were well aware that the odds that Jay still lived were quite poor.

  “Maybe he just didn’t manage to get inside,” Dubhe muttered. “So we need to get both Bansa’s device and Bansa, collect Jay, and get out of here. Have any of you folks mastered virt body shifts?”

  Drum and Alice frowned.

  “I can just do me and Link,” Alice said.

  “And I relied on templates,” Drum confessed. “Most of the time they’re less noticeable.”

  “I learned, for Markon,” Virginia said, her voice breaking soft and uneven, “although he always liked me best this way.”

  “An aion of good taste,” Drum said firmly. “Very good. I believe I can guess what Dubhe is thinking.”

  “If you could shift your form to look like one of the guards and join the group,” Alice said, “then you could get close enough to follow them inside. There are seven of them total, but if you walk to the rear, they shouldn’t notice you since they’re all busy ‘escorting’ my dad.”

  Virginia raised her binoculars and started studying the details of the escort’s attire. They wore neat, pseudomilitary uniforms consisting of navy-blue jumpsuits nipped in at ankle and wrist, white bandoliers and gloves, black ankle boots, and matching blue-and-white billed caps accented with gold cloudbursts. All appeared to be armed with Chaos Factor rifles and long swords.

  “Then what?”

  “We’ll creep close, using the cover,” Alice improvised, “and you can hold the door long enough for us to slip in. If we get into a fight out here, we’ll be certain to attract attention.”

  “Nothing has noticed us thus far,” Drum added, “so we can be certain that omniscient or not, the deities have more to do these days than gaze down a hillside.”

  Virginia nodded. “If we had more time, I’d teach you how to shift, but it takes practice to do it right. Dubhe, you can move more quickly than the rest of us. Scamper up to about twelve o’clock—but stay parallel to the factory.”

  “You want me at the middle of the clock,” Dubhe clarified.

  “Right. I’ll watch you for signals as to the other group’s motion. We’re fortunate that they’re walking, not taking a conveyance of some sort.”

  “I’m gone,” Dubhe said.

  Virginia jerked her head somewhat brusquely at Alice and Drum.

  “I’ll shift when I’m closer. My current attire is better camouflage. You two will need to be near enough to trail the group, but not on my heels in case something goes wrong.”

  “Right,” Drum said for them both.

  “Good luck,” Alice added.

  “She’s not a happy lady,” Desmond Drum said, when Virginia had departed. “We’re going to need to watch out for her.”

  “I guess so,” Alice said. “Poor thing, she really loved Markon.”

  “And the only thing that is keeping her going is a desire for revenge on his killer. If she loses hope that she can achieve that, she may lose what control remains to her.”

  “Have you ever been in love, Drum?”

  He glanced at her. “Several times, never took for the lady in question. I guess I’m unlucky that way.”

  “Oh.”

  Drum looked away. “Virginia’s far enough ahead. Let’s get going.”

  * * *

  Jay’s surrender consisted of sitting cross-legged on the factory floor (dark red, poured, and somewhat plastic) while the two winged lions held their spears on him and argued whether or not one or the other should go for their superiors. Apparently, the facility lacked either intercom or radio, these having been removed during the first week of the demideities’ detail when the others grew tired of listening to their complaints.

  This absorbing subject had not yet been resolved (and Jay did his best to keep it from being so), when Little Wind brightened and pawed at his long hair and beard.

  “They’re coming! I saw them turning the bend in the road.”

  “Jay, could you possibly look more dangerous?” Little Storm said, after confirming his partner’s report.

  Jay puffed out his chest and scowled. “How’s that?”

  “Great! Look angry if you can—we’ve just caught you about to… Why were you here, anyhow?”

  The rightside door rumbling open saved Jay from needing to answer. Neither of the guards had attention for anything but the uniformed figures who marched in. A single man stood at the center of the square they formed, his expression of bored indifference changing to one of surprise as he saw Jay.

  Only Jay noticed that one member of the escort paused for a moment in the doorway, or that three figures scuttled in after the escort entered and secreted themselves among the crates piled by the door. Moments later, at the edge of his peripheral vision, Jay thought he saw Dubhe moving deeper into the room using the machinery for cover.

  Fortunately, Ambry’s escort was distracted from the breakin routine by the sight of Jay scowling beneath the sharp points of two spears.

  “An intruder!” Little Storm said. “We caught him just a few moments ago.”

  Whatever response the leader of the escort, an androgynous male with gold braid at wrists and collar instead of merely on his cap, might have made was lost when Ambry pushed him away and knelt at Jay’s side.

  Confused, Little Wind and Little Storm lowered their spears and glanced at the escort commander, who shrugged. Nothing Ambry was doing was against their programming and perhaps the younger man would provide the leverage they had been seeking to get the Piper to cooperate.

  “You have the look of John Donnerjack about you, boy,” Ambry said. “Have they hurt you?”

  “No, and I’m his son.”

  “So you’re the child Ayra was carrying.”

  “You knew my mother?”

  “My wife and I met her once some time before your birth. Lydia was carrying our daughter. We visited for a time, but as circumstances conspired, we never met again. I’ve often wondered about you.”

  “I’ve met your daughter,” Jay said, suddenly understanding the surreptitious gestures the uniformed Virginia had been giving him from her position at the back of the astonished escort. “In fact, she’s looking for you.”

  Ambry’s mouth twisted in a rueful grin. “I should have known. Do you know where she is?”

  In a single smooth movement learned in virtventure, Jay drew his CF pistol and aimed it at the leader of the escort. From behind the group, Virginia spoke, her voice so cool that no one doubted she meant her words:

  “I have you covered. The first one who moves gets a double CF round between the shoulders.”

  Now Drum, Alice, and Dubhe closed with their own weapons held ready.
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  “I’m here, Ambry,” Alice said. “And I’m awfully glad to see that you’re all right.”

  Ambry grinned, shook his head in amazement, and moved to disarm the members of his escort. Jay took the spears from Little Wind and Little Storm.

  “Sorry, guys. I had to do it.”

  “But now we won’t be able to go to the Celebration!” Little Storm protested.

  If I have my way, there won’t be any Celebration, Jay thought, but he knew better than to say such things in front of his opponents. Such dramatic gestures looked great in performances, but they had no place in real life—and despite the setting, this virtventure was very real.

  Drum, whistling between his teeth, was busy directing the members of the escort to lie prone on the floor. With quick, economical movements, he bound ankles and wrists. This completed, he glanced at the winged lions, clearly uncertain how to deal with them.

  “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with them,” Jay said. “They were here against their will. Right, guys?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s exactly it.”

  “Amazing how a CF rifle in the arms of our ‘Ginnie can make even a demideity reasonable,” Drum commented. “What next?”

  “Well, we’ve found Ambry,” Jay said. “Now maybe Ambry can help us get Bansa’s device from the machine over there.”

  Ambry nodded. “That I can. The wards were designed to permit me freedom to work on the machine. Tell me, what will you do with it if I get it for you?”

  “Return it to the one from whom it was stolen,” Jay said.

  “The Lord of Entropy?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Entropy seems like just the thing for this device of mine.” Ambry shook his head. “Crossover must have seemed like the ideal concept at the time. Now, however, I am less certain. Virtu may be full of beauty and wonder, but I’m not at all sure that Verite is ready for two-way commerce.”

  “There are good things,” Alice protested. “Like you and my mother. Like Jay’s parents. Like Virginia and Markon. Should these be restricted to one universe only—and that one not quite real?”

  “Which is not quite real, my dear? Meditate on that for a time. You are no less my daughter despite the whims of biology. However, this is not the place for such discussions.”

  He walked over to the convoluted machine. Perceiving his approach, it glittered, sparked, and purred rather like a great cat. Ambry stroked a glowing copper coil and then reached down into the heart of the machine. A nimbus flickering crimson and lavender formed around him. They could see his shoulder muscles bunch as he tugged at something inside.

  “Got it,” he muttered, pulling. “Here you are, Jay. Return it to the one from whom it was stolen.”

  Jay accepted the item Ambry extended to him. It was a circuit board about the size of a large belt buckle, its workings protected by a clear covering that showed a few scratches.

  Then Ambry stepped back and patted the tubes again. The purring sound grew louder until all who stood within the vast room could feel their bones vibrating. As they watched, the enormous machine diminished into something about the size of a cello. Its character changed as well, color fading until it was a mass of crystal and platinum, roughly square.

  “Alice?” Ambry’s voice sounded strange. “Give Lydia my love.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” she said. “We came all this way!”

  “I’d like to,” Ambry said, and now his voice was clearly not the same, become instead lighter, the rhythms pedantic, “but I have my own role to play in the events to come.”

  Before their eyes, he underwent a metamorphosis, his shoulders becoming slightly stooped, his hair touched with grey, the lines on his face speaking of wisdom earned at the price of pain. A scar ran from the top of his grizzled head across his face, down his throat, and vanished into the neckline of Ambry’s shirt (which fit somewhat more loosely now). No one doubted that it continued to the sole of his left foot.

  When he bent to pick up the crystal and platinum device, they saw that he limped.

  “Goodbye, for now. I’m going to stand in the way of Creation,” the Master/the One Who Waits said. “I look forward to seeing you all there.”

  THIRTEEN

  “Reese Jordan?”

  “Yes?”

  “How do you feel today?”

  “As well as a man of my years can expect to feel. I hurt everywhere— even my aches have aches. Are you a new doctor? I’m afraid I don’t recognize you.”

  “I am not precisely a doctor, but I believe I have a cure for what ails you.”

  “There is no cure for old age, lady. Sid and his pals keep trying, but there’s just no way around it. Eventually, the body quits.”

  “For some people that doesn’t need to be the end.”

  “Some people? What?”

  “Some people have more than one existence—you are one of these. In the creed of Virtu you are known as the Guide. I can make it possible for your awareness to be translated into that of your mythology.”

  “I can see how that would work—in theory. Who are you?”

  “You might say that I’m an old myth myself, come calling on a failing colleague.”

  “You might. It’s a tidy way of not answering my question.”

  “Suffice to say that I have the power to do what I say. When your body fails, your memories, knowledge, and abilities can be translated to merge with the myth that your actions engendered in Virtu.”

  “Sounds pretty nice—though I didn’t know that I had generated a myth.”

  “Three Veriteans did so at the time of the Genesis Scramble: you, Warren Bansa, and John D’Arcy Donnerjack.”

  “John’s dead. Didn’t anyone think to make him this offer?”

  “We might well have. The Engineer would have been invaluable to us, but he walled himself away from Virtu and his old rival, the Lord of Deep Fields, slew him.”

  “Didn’t know his jurisdiction extended to the Verite.”

  “It does not, in the usual sense, but he can manipulate electronic forces and Donnerjack made the mistake of surrounding himself with such… but why am I telling you this?”

  “Because you want something from me.”

  “I thought I was offering you something—extended life and a chance to be embodied with your myth.”

  “You want something. Why else come now? I’ve been following the news. All through Virtu there are rumblings of change. Genü loci have been slain. Armies are being formed and powerful forces move.”

  “For one who rarely leaves Caltrice’s site, you have gathered much.”

  “I’m like Merlin trapped in Nimue’s spell—but I still hear what is going on. Poetic imagery aside, what do you want, Lady with the Long Green Hair? What is the price of my immortality?”

  “I want the head of Jay Donnerjack. He wronged me—stole something from my keeping.”

  Reese chuckled. “You want the head of my pupil, the son of my old friend? Why not take it yourself? You are powerful, Myth Come Visiting.”

  “I am, but there are certain protocols I must observe.”

  “Yes, I suppose that the Great Earthmother would have trouble slaying a young man who is Death’s protege. The Lord of the Lost would not help in such a matter. And your strength is creation—not destruction.”

  “Have you been toying with me, Reese Jordan?”

  “No, but a certain small knowing came upon me as we spoke. John’s strength was always the making of things; mine has been the theory. I have heard many strange tales over the years and Sid has always had a wondering respect for me.”

  “You have been toying with me!”

  “As you wish, Lady Mother. As tempting as I find your offer, I will not betray Jay to you. He is my student, but more than that, he is my friend.”

  “I warn you, Reese Jordan, I have taken steps to extend my influence over life into death. You could make no worse enemy than me.”

 
; “Perhaps not, but death—whether heralded by the moire or in the more usual style—is something I have become resigned to. I cannot say that I will welcome it, but I accept its inevitability.”

  “You are an arrogant bastard, Reese Jordan.”

  “Arrogant? Proudly so, but I knew my parents. Can you say the same?”

  A flash of too-brilliant green light, a scream of rage, the sound of an old man chuckling.

  * * *

  In a shower of strange attractors, the Brass Babboon came for them. With very little discussion, it had been agreed that Alice, Drum, and Virginia would continue to assist Jay. Now, as soon as the improbable train thrust its leering face through the interface that guarded the highest levels from profane intrusions, they hurried aboard the club car.

  “Where to, Jay?” the Brass Babboon called. Already the train was gathering speed, whipping out of the plains of Meru into a neighboring site. “Deep Fields?”

  “No,” Jay said, surprising everyone. “Castle Donnerjack. Can you get us to the Great Stage?”

  “Sure.”

  There was a loud noise, rather like a large paper bag exploding. Outside the windows, a pebbly hail in shades of red and pink began to fall. Scissor blades snapped.

  “Do you need help, B.B.?”

  “There’s some interference, but I can handle it so far. I’ll holler if I need someone.”

  Sticky fog began to spread around the train, obscuring the hail.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Oh, yeah, this is fun! Get something to eat, set your plans, and sleep if you can. I’ll give a wake-up call.”

  “I guess we should do what he says,” Alice said. “Jay, do you mind explaining why we’re going to Castle Donnerjack? From what Virginia said, the Lord of Deep Fields is under attack. Don’t you plan to help him?”

  “I do,” Jay said. “Put your order into the kitchen while I explain.

  “Ever since Virginia told us about Earthma’s peculiar child and what she intended for it, I’ve been considering how we could help. My concern was taking us into a battle between what are essentially forces of entropy, breakdown, decay, whatever you want to call it. Whichever way I looked at it, we were all pretty vulnerable.”