One for the Morning Glory

by John Barnes

  "Well, then, be reckless and do foolish things and endanger yourself needlessly, if you really must, but for all the gods' sake come back safe," Amatus said. "I think we have a strategy here, and had best get about carrying it through."

  4

  Quests and Diversions

  Of Sir John Slitgizzard's hardships on his quest, perhaps we ought to say nothing, for he scorned to complain, and perhaps in deference to him no one wrote any record of it. But in fairness we must say that his courage and endurance must have been considerable.

  We do know that he chose to go the quick rather than the easy way. The longer way round would have been arduous enough, for it would have meant descending the Long River, crossing where the bridge was down, descending through the foothills, taking the fork in the road to the Great North Woods, following that dark, little-traveled, and sorcery-ridden road three or four days through the Great North Woods until he came to Iron Lake, finding a boat or more likely walking around the lake some days more until he found the road that ran along the lake north from the Ironic Gap, and then finally hiking up into the mountains along the Iron River into the wild and dangerous country where the Irons themselves lived. They were an often inexplicable people, hard to see precisely, and though they were not always dangerous, they were never entirely safe either.

  Passing through Irony would eventually take him among the highest peaks, where nothing much lived—except various monsters, goblins, gazebo, and now the Riddling Beast.

  But this was the easy way and it was not the way he went. Sir John knew that there was one high pass—so high that anywhere else in the lands known to the Kingdom it would have been counted as a mountain in its own right—between the Northern Mountains, which rose above the Lake of Winter, and the nameless mountains north of Iron Lake where the Riddling Beast had gone. In another month, there would be perhaps half a chance of finding that pass clear of snow, but there was no month to wait, so Sir John set forth, "and don't worry about it," he said to Amatus, before Sceledrus took him across the lake and up the little river to where his journey was to begin, "it's one thing to set a quest for some shavetail wet-behind-the-ears youngster who's never proven himself at anything, and quite another to set a quest for a man with some experience, eh? A quest is supposed to be a challenge."

  Sceledrus reported that Sir John had seemed cheerful as he led off the two pack mules whom he had purchased from the area's wealthiest potato farmer. He had been offered them as a loan, and had refused to take it, "for I don't expect them to make the journey all the way, and if by some miracle one or other should survive, well, I can at least give him an honorable retirement."

  The last Sceledrus had seen of him, Sir John Slitgizzard had been on his way, whistling "The Codwalloper's Daughter" off-key (and as loudly as possible, to compensate).

  It was only the day after Sceledrus reported this that Calliope set forth. She would proceed down the Long River, then take the Great North Woods Road west to Iron Lake, and finally enter Overhill through the Ironic Gap.

  Amatus was surprised at his concern for her. It was a dangerous journey, but not more dangerous than other things she had done. It was important, but not as important as either Sir John's mission or his own. Yet he felt sorrier than ever before to see her go.

  He realized his feelings were entirely consonant with a happy ending, and for just a moment he had to find Psyche and make sure she was still there.

  Calliope's journey through the Great North Woods with Cedric and Euripides was as uneventful as any riding vacation. The Great North Woods had been a royal preserve for ages untold, never touched by settler's ax or soldier's boot, and it was filled with things that might make other quests, or with things that in another sort of quest might have to be overcome, and there was hardly a clearing without a knight's grave, a hill without an ogre, or a dark copse without dark doings in its dark past. The Great North Woods Road was said to have been there before the Kingdom, and perhaps before the Great North Woods, but nothing was known of how it had been made, nor even of what kept it open. For though it saw little enough traffic, it was always in reasonable repair, ready for any traveler who needed it—though, since it ran without branching from a road through a wilderness to a great flat stone on an unpopulated shore, there were few who did.

  And this time, despite all the adventures waiting for other travelers, nothing happened during the four days' journey along the road. Euripides was heard to mutter regularly that it was "too quiet," but almost always, shortly after he did, animals in the woods would begin to make noises, as if they wanted him to be more comfortable.

  When they were not silent they argued about why there had never been any goblins in the Great North Woods. Euripides thought it was because goblins could only go where at least one goblin had been before, which Calliope thought rather begged the question, but her own hypothesis that whatever the Great North Woods was, was older and stronger than what the goblins were, was by her own admission no better. It gave them something to debate when they felt like talking, which was not often.

  Now and then a view or vista opened up and they saw some ruin or mountain, old and encrusted with history, but more often they saw only the great arch of trees above the road.

  Each night, just as they became tired, there was an opening adequate for them to camp on, with dead branches lying there for a fire. They ate from their packs, dining well enough on pan bread made from piecemeal, jerked gazebo, and other simple fare.

  Finally, just before noon of the fourth day, they came to the Flat Rock, a piece of stone broad enough for a thousand men to stand on that stuck into Iron Lake at the very northwest corner of the Great North Woods for no particular reason except that it had to be somewhere. They ate a quick lunch on the Flat Rock.

  Calliope never knew just what impelled her to walk to the end of the Flat Rock. But as she reached the point farthest out into the water, something glowed on the horizon.

  As Cedric described it later, the glow became something you knew would be in the corner of your eye if you looked away. Then it grew, and Calliope stood as straight and still as if a million people were watching her.

  A ship heaved above the horizon, her great brown sail painted with deep blue stripes, an indescribable flag flying at her mast, making for the Flat Rock with swift dignity. Cedric and Euripides ran forward to join Calliope, for Cedric's first thought was that Waldo must have built a navy, and Euripides's was of pirates.

  So softly you would not have known she was there with your eyes closed, the ship slid up beside the Flat Rock in the bright sunlight, as solid as the Rock itself and yet strangely cut into the air around her, as if she were a trifle more real than anything else around her. She rocked gently there, not an arm span from the Rock (for the water was deep on that side). A gangplank swung down from the side of the ship to crash onto the Rock.

  No hand rested on the tiller, no sheet or line had a hand upon it, no one raced across the deck to make anything happen; it all just happened, and now the ship rested there, as if waiting for them. "What do you suppose—?" Calliope whispered.

  "I suppose as little as I can manage," Cedric replied, his voice low. "This is the sort of thing that every story assures us cannot be ignored. A ship like this is going to take us to somewhere we need to be, rest assured of that. The gangplank, there, looks uncommonly solid and stable; do you suppose we might see if we can lead the horses and mules up it?"

  "We'll need fodder for 'em," Euripides pointed out.

  "I doubt that. At the pace with which this ship sails, there is no doubt in my mind that she can be at any corner of Iron Lake in a matter of a few hours."

  "How do we know she's for us?" Calliope whispered, again, gingerly placing a foot on the gangplank.

  "She's for you," Euripides said, firmly.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because when you touched her just now, the flag at the mast, which had been indescribable, became the Raven and Rooster, the flag of your family," Euripides
said, pointing upward. They looked and it was so.

  A little later they led the last mule up the gangplank, and everything was off the Flat Rock. Calliope asked, "Now, do we raise the gangplank or—"

  The gangplank slowly raised itself and knots formed in the lines to make it fast. There was a subtle shifting underfoot, and first the ship was drifting sideways, and then her sails caught a wind that had not been blowing an instant before, and they were racing across the water, far faster than a galloping horse ever goes, all in a deep silence.

  Calliope was still trying to make sense of the ship's arrival. "You say it came to serve me, because it started to fly the Raven and Rooster, but I've been to Iron Lake, oh, dozens of times, and I've never seen this ship before."

  Cedric grinned; little would discourage him now, for the arrival of ancient, unknown, and obviously beneficent magic must mean that Waldo had at last gone too far and was about to bear the consequences. "It was never time before. Things will draw on swiftly now. This is an excellent sign."

  The ship had arrived at the Flat Rock just after they had finished their lunch, and they had spent perhaps the better part of an hour boarding her; but long before they had any thought of being hungry again, or of stretching out for a nap, the western shore of Iron Lake was drawing near, and there, among the scrub brush, they saw another rock, not unlike a smaller Flat Rock, with a ruined stone wall rising above it and a road winding up into the trees above.

  "Where are we?" Cedric asked.

  "I have seen this place," Euripides said, "as I have seen most places. The fishermen in these parts often call it the Old Port, so I have always assumed at one time it was such. That grassy road—which never outgrows, though there is no traffic on it, much like the Great North Woods Road—winds up to join the Royal Road not more than a double dozen furuncles above us in the hills, just where the Royal Road bends and heads up into the Ironic Gap. This ship has saved us some days' travel and danger."

  Even as Euripides spoke, the ship brought herself, as delicately as a cat finds a favored spot on a pillow, to the side of the rock. The gangplank came down, and presently they had disembarked their horses and mules.

  They had expected almost anything of the ship—that she might then sink, or transform into something else, or perhaps sail back over the horizon—but it was only that as they looked at her, wondering what she would do, she ceased to be there. In a long breath more of the water flowed together where she had been.

  Headed up into the mountains, they made splendid time. By late afternoon, they were encamped not far from the fort at the top of the pass. They built no fire, and lay well back from the road, everything made as silent as it might be, for the fort must be held by Waldo's soldiers, and they planned to rise well before the dawn to see if they might find a quiet way around it.

  Long before dawn the next morning, as Calliope and Cedric yawned and gulped cold water from their bottles, old Euripides, making less noise than a shadow on dark moss, crept forth to see what he might find. As he went, Cedric and Calliope got matters in order, muffling the hooves of the horses and mules, whispering gently to the animals to keep them quiet, making sure more by feel than sight that nothing was left behind. When they finished they sat silently together on a log for a cold breakfast of jerked gazebo and piecemeal biscuit.

  Euripides should have been back by now, and yet he was not. Undoubtedly he had encountered some difficulty and would be here soon.

  Calliope whispered that he might as well nap, she would stand the short watch until Euripides returned, so Cedric spread his cloak on the ground and lay down. She could barely see him, and she was alone in the dark with her thoughts. She thought of Amatus, and of how Boniface had fallen and the Duke had died, and the passing of the first three Companions. It was strange how Psyche had at first seemed merely charming, and then had become a friend, but when Calliope had come to understand more of the nature of the Companions, she had realized her friend was a force in the world like wind, truth, gravity, or levity.

  Now the morning stars were beginning to fade, and there was only the Morning Star itself, bright and glorious, burning down through a hole in the fir boughs. Euripides was now hours late from a half-hour mission, and if he did not come immediately they would have to wait till the following night.

  The gray false dawn came and went, and took the Morning Star with it, and still there was no sound, and no sign of Euripides. A low red sunrise, portending storms, came up, and then the gray clouds frothed over the blue of the sky, so that it was gloomy and gray and nearly as dark as it had been before sunrise, and still there was no trace of the scout. She thought of waking Cedric, but saw little benefit; if Euripides was captured, they must hope that he did not talk, for they could not move without detection until dark fell again that night.

  Cedric woke when the hoofbeats came from the road, and then they both stood when they heard Euripides's voice call for them. They glanced at each other sharply, and Cedric stopped knocking leaves and dirt from his cloak and beard just long enough to whisper, "It might be a —"

  But he did not sav "trap" for at that moment Euripides came out of the brush, and with him were three men. who all knelt before Cedric. The old General and Prime Minister—still with a leaf or two sticking to him, and his thin hair an unkempt mess—had the courtier's gift of instant dignity, so he raised each of them with a gentle hand, and as he brought the last one up, he exclaimed, "Captain Pseudolus! Gods and more gods, I'd have thought the fort fallen and all of you dead!"

  "Then there was a war," Pseudolus said. "We hear little up here in the Ironic Gap, and what we do hear is old. One absurd fellow did come up to tell us that someone named Waldo was now in charge of the Kingdom and to give us a set of ridiculous orders. Obviously a prank, or perhaps something garbled from that other Waldo, the one that lives in Overhill. So since what he said was not bad enough (and we thought not true enough) to hang him for, we beat the messenger till he could just manage to stand, and put him on the road in a nightshirt with a sign about his neck that said 'Fool.' I suppose if I see that little man again I owe him some sort of an apology."

  "No very deep one," Cedric said. "I think perhaps we should begin with an inspection of the fort"—with that he winked at Calliope—"and then proceed from there."

  A more astute man than Captain Pseudolus might have noted that the inspection of the kitchen was unusually thorough. But then a more astute man might have surrendered the fort, before.

  Cedric determined the next morning that Pseudolus had about one hundred omnibusiers and escreesmen, in good order and well-drilled. "Well, then," he said, beaming with satisfaction, "I think we have the beginnings of your army, here, Highness."

  Pseudolous appeared startled, but Cedric rode over whatever objection there might have been to say, "Your faithful preservation of the royal forces in this country will stand as an example of fidelity forever, and if you are married, Captain Pseudolus, you may tell your wife that you and your heirs will be nobility if I've any say in it—"

  The poor Captain, who had known perfectly well that he was sent to the Ironic Gap because it was thought less important and he was thought less capable, could hardly contain himself, and babbled his thanks.

  "Nonsense, nonsense, it's all well deserved," Cedric harumphed.

  "And if the Kingdom should be so ungrateful as not to give you the title," Calliope added, "you have the word of the current Princess and future Queen of Overhill that you will hold title, power, and pelf there. Not that there's much pelf, the way Waldo's handled it. Is there some motto that runs in your family?"

  "Well, my old man always said I had more loyalty than brains, ma'am. And his father said the same about him." He hesitated, then blurted out, "I'd no idea you were a queen, and I do hope I haven't done anything wrong—"

  She beamed at him. "You've done everything perfectly. And I've only just decided to be a Queen. And we'll put your family motto into Latin and it will make a splendid impression on your crest.
'Quam stultus sed quam fidelior.' But now I must ask of you, Cedric—as Prime Minister of the Kingdom, and General of All the Armies, can you extend a bit of military assistance to a neighboring Kingdom? I should like to borrow, er—"

  "Well, I do believe we will have to call what we have here the Army of the West, and yes, the Kingdom will certainly loan it to you. Captain—you will immediately ready these forces to go with the Queen—we are riding into Overhill. Oh, and since I am of at least the rank of a Field Marshal, I suppose we will have to make you Acting General or something of the sort for a while. We can work out the implications for your pay later. How soon can we be ready to march?"

  "This afternoon if you like, sir, I've kept 'em sharp."

  "Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. You may want to go and tell your wife of your rise in the world."

  As Captain Pseudolus went out, they heard him mutter, "Well, well, the old man always did say 'do what you're told and don't think too much,' and now I see he was right."

  The next morning, as they rode over the pass and down, they made a brave display, and Calliope's heart was high. She had quietly promoted herself to Queen now that she was going home, and she noted that Cedric had accepted it without a murmur; indeed, Euripides seemed more comfortable having the clear title of "Majesty" to address her by. Moreover, the mountain country was beautiful at first, with its pine woods bending near the road, and clear shining cataracts pouring off many ledges, for with early summer the snow melt was now at its fullest. Eagles flew overhead, gazebo and the elusive little zwiebacks bounded in the brush, great fish leapt from the streams, and it might have been a splendid royal vacation for the first few hours.

  But about the time they broke to eat the noon meal, the road was falling into the sort of disrepair that meant that not even highwaymen had bothered with it in years. This might have been tolerable to the eye if only the forest and mountains that had been reclaiming the road had been as beautiful as those of the Kingdom, but as they descended, there were fewer leaves or needles on the more and more distorted trees. The grass that had grown across the road was no longer thick and green and wet, but straggled like the hair of a drowned woman, its green mottled by blacks and browns, and with the scratchy dry roughness of the skin of a mummy. No gazebo were seen anywhere, and the two zwieback they saw were stunted and sickly. The brown and greasy trickles that rolled down the mountain side smelled fouler than Calliope would have thought possible.