Part 15 (1/2)
”Hoy, I certainly don't see any blue-green teeth.” Cautiously, the swordsman resumed feeding.
They were soon finished with their meal. When Ehomba decided they had rested long enough, he led his companions out of the chamber. Choosing a corridor that led west, they left the tomuwog sitting serenely on its twinkling nest. It made no move to interfere with their departure. From the time it had arrived until the moment they departed, it had uttered not a sound.
The pa.s.sageway provided a smooth-floored, controlled-climate means of making progress. As they jogged along, they pa.s.sed other herds of grazing animals, and flocks of birds large and small. As far as these active inhabitants of the prairie were concerned, the travelers were invisible. And so long as they kept to the tomuwog tunnel, they effectively were.
The extent of the corridor did not surprise Ehomba. Tomuwogs, he explained to his friends, dug very elaborate, very complex systems of burrows that boasted but few entrances. After a number of days, however, he decided it was time to sacrifice concealment and convenience for the world that lay beyond the tunneled realm of blue and green. For one thing, the corridor was devoid of anything except cool air and blue-green light. They would soon need to find food and fresh water.
Simna fingered the transparent, unyielding wall that enclosed them. ”So how do we get out, bruther? Cut ourselves a hole?”
”Only a tomuwog can do that, Simna.” As they trotted down the corridor, the herdsman was scanning the ceiling. ”We must find a natural entrance.”
”You said there weren't many.”
Ehomba nodded. ”That is so. It is why I want to find one before our food or water begins to run any lower.” With his spear, he gestured behind them. ”I would hate to have to retrace our steps all the way back to the place where the firemakers nearly entrapped us.”
Simna grunted his agreement and thought little more of it. But by the evening of the following day he was starting to grow concerned. The thought of starving to death in plain view of rolling fields of edible plants and herds of plentiful game, pinned like an ornamental b.u.t.terfly between layers of blue and green, was singularly unappealing.
It was therefore with considerable relief, and not a little confusion, that he slowed to a halt behind Ehomba. The herdsman had raised a hand and was staring off to his left. Squinting in the same direction, Simna could see nothing. Or rather, nothing that differed from the rest of their surroundings.
”There is our exit.” Though he did not manifest it outwardly, Ehomba was greatly relieved. Entrances and exits to tomuwog burrows were even more scattered than he had led Simna and the others to believe. Knowing that if he appeared worried it would have weighed heavily on them, he had maintained an air of quiet confidence ever since they had left the nesting chamber. He had also eschewed mentioning that tomuwog burrows were subject to a variety of external strains and pressures, and therefore p.r.o.ne to collapse. What would happen to anyone who found him- or herself caught in a tomuwog cave-in he could not imagine, except to be certain it would not be pleasant.
”I don't see anything,” Simna murmured.
”There's nothing there.” The black litah snorted.
”Exactly.” Ehomba started forward, toward something only he could see. Or rather, toward nothing only he could see.
When Simna emerged from the burrow, the return of multihued light together with the sounds and smells of the world outside threatened to overwhelm his senses. Hunkapa Aub took to running about in little circles, grabbing at gra.s.shoppers and beetles, while Ahlitah promptly lay down in the yellowed gra.s.s and rolled, immersing himself in the delicious convocation of aromas.
Looking back the way they had come, Simna could see only ground and growth, rock and soil. There was nothing to indicate to his eyes that they had just exited a corridor that tunneled between the color blue and the color green.
”It's really there?” he found himself asking his tall companion.
”Yes, Simna. It is really there.”
The swordsman nodded somberly. ”Wizardry. I've grown used to your denying it, Etjole, but that doesn't mean I accept it. We both know what you are.”
”How can we both know what I am when I do not even know myself what I am?” Ehomba was not smiling. ”I am a good tracker, friend Simna. Good at finding things.”
”Things that no one else can find, or even suspect exist.” Together, they resumed the trek westward. ”If that's not sorcery, I don't know what is.” Idly, the swordsman plucked a striking blue wildflower. He did not hold on to it for long, though, having had enough blue to last him for a while.
”Not true, Simna.” Once again, Ehomba was using his spear as a walking stick. ”Many of the Naumkib could have done what I just did.” He grinned. ”I am just a little better at such things than most of the villagers. I think it is because I am always questioning my surroundings that I have become good at seeing what others overlook.” With his free hand he pointed slightly to their right. ”For example, standing right there is a Gogloyyik, a fantastic animal with four eyes, purple wings, a tail three times the length of its body, and a head that is a ma.s.s of absurd-looking horns.”
Following his friend's lead, Simna strained to locate this phantasmagoric creature. All he saw were insects whizzing back and forth above the tops of the gra.s.s, and something like a chartreuse bunny that scampered frantically out of sight on all fours.
”I don't see anything, Etjole. Is it only semi-invisible, like the tomuwog?”
”It's right there, right before your eyes, Simna! What's the matter with you?” The herdsman's irritation was palpable.
Simna's forehead was beginning to throb. Breaking away from the others, he jogged off in the direction Ehomba had indicated. Halting at what he thought was an excessive distance from his companions, the swordsman turned a slow circle.
”By Githwhent, bruther-there's nothing here! Where is this ... ?” He stopped. Hunkapa Aub was chortling softly, his enormous chest heaving with muted laughter. Even the black litah was grinning, insofar as a cat is capable of such an expression. And the herdsman-Etjole Ehomba had a hand over his mouth and was shaking his head slowly as he strode along.
Simna's expression darkened. ”Very funny, long bruther. Oh, vastly amusing, yes! Scare the insides out of a man one minute and make him the b.u.t.t of jokes the next! How clever you are, how witty! How droll.” Rejoining the group, he fell in step behind the herdsman, forswearing his company.
Padding up alongside him, Ahlitah was uncharacteristically sympathetic. ”I understand, little man. Don't take it to heart. If it's any consolation, I don't agree with what your mentor just did.”
Simna eyed the big cat warily. ”You don't?”
”No. He can't make you the b.u.t.t of jokes one minute, because to me you have been and will always be nothing more than a b.u.t.t.” With that the cat sauntered off, choosing to parallel rather than follow the herdsman's lead.
Will I ever figure him out?the swordsman mused as he gazed broodingly at the back of the tall southerner. ”If you are a sorcerer, Etjole-and I still hold to that belief as strongly as ever-you will be the first one I ever met that had a sense of humor. Such as it is,” he hastened to add.
Still grinning, the herdsman looked back at his friend. ”I come from a simple village, friend Simna. You should expect my sense of humor to be simple as well.”
”Hoy-that I won't argue.” After a while he increased his pace to move back up alongside his companion. There followed an exchange of jokes that caused laughter to ring out across the plain. The guffawing was wholly human. It did not matter whether the j.a.pe was told by Ehomba or Simna. Strive as he might, Hunkapa Aub never got it, and the black litah did not want to.
As the resolute propounders of intermittent jocularity strode onward toward the beckoning sunset, accompanied by a hulking and perplexed ma.s.s of hair that lumbered after them on legs like hispid tree trunks, and one brooding black cat of striking size and grace, the Gogloyyik lifted its outlandish cranium and watched them go, not overlooking a chance to fenegrate the sookstrum that unexpectedly darted between its legs.
XIV.
Peregriff wondered if he dared knock. The south castle aerie was but one of many that his master used for his regular rendezvous with the costly courtesans he imported from the city. Despite the many wild and scurrilous rumors that attended to his master, the chief of staff knew that Hymneth the Possessed was indeed a man, with all the needs and desires that implied. He was, however, glad that it was the job of others to select and escort the often reluctant women into his master's presence. What happened subsequently comprised scenarios he preferred not to speculate upon.
It had been some time since the last such visit to the castle, though. It might well be that the omnipotent ruler of fabled Ehl-Larimar had simply decided to spend the afternoon in solitary, alone with thoughts only he could appreciate and a.s.similate. That only he would want to, Peregriff mused. Taking a deep breath, he rapped several times on the carved wooden door. A lesser man might have fled. But lesser men did not rise to the position of most valued aide to the Possessed.
At first there was no reply. Having done his duty by knocking, Peregriff was tempted to retire. If he had guessed wrongly and his master was otherwise occupied, persisting could draw the kind of reprimand that would reduce anyone else to a quivering sack of human jelly. His fist hovered before the door, hesitating.
A voice from within bade him enter. Neither irate nor expectant, it offered no clue to its owner's state of mind. Making certain his uniform was straight and correct in every detail, Peregriff lifted the heavy iron latch and pushed the door inward.
No suit of armor could really be called ”playful,” but the ruler's attire of the day was designed more to impress than intimidate. Dark blue leather banded with chased steel, it consisted of vest and lower skirt beneath which Hymneth wore mail of very fine links. His helmet was likewise fas.h.i.+oned from the finest, smoothest steel, engraved with scenes that were less than usually horrific. The eye slits were long and narrow, while the front of the helmet descended in a straight line from forehead to chin, hiding nose and mouth alike. It gave to the skull the look of a s.h.i.+p preparing to cleave the open waters.
Helmet and point turned away from the window out which they had been staring to face him. ”What is it, Peregriff?”
The reverberant, commanding voice was tinged with indifference: a good sign, as far as the general was concerned. Yet still he hesitated to step into the room. Leaning imperceptibly forward, he managed a look to his right. The rack and bench were empty and showed no sign of having been subject to recent employment. As he bowed, he cut his eyes in the other direction. Likewise, the bed was undisturbed.
A pair of small, seemingly innocent dark clouds lolled above the richly embroidered spread. They grew active when he entered, only to become still as they recognized him. They knew that within the castle certain life lights were not for eating, and his was among them. When he straightened, it was with less concern and more confidence. Not that he ever really relaxed. Only fools and the deathly ignorant relaxed in the presence of Hymneth the Possessed, and Peregriff was neither.
”Don't you remember, Lord? This is the morning you wished to review the household guard.” Turning slightly, he gestured at the open doorway. ”I have come to escort you.”
”Ah, yes. My mind was elsewhere, good Peregriff. On other matters.”
The general hazarded a guess. ”The one whose coming the Worm predicted?”
”Actually, no.” Straightening, Hymneth rose to his full, towering height. ”I have begun to believe no such person exists. If he did, and had power enough to inconvenience me even remotely, surely he would be here by now. I thought at the time that the Worm's words made no sense, and I've seen or heard nothing since to make me change that opinion.”
”Still, Lord, it pays to be cautious.”
From behind the burnished steel, unblinking eyes narrowed ever so slightly; the timbre of voice from beneath the helmet's projecting lip grew infinitesimally softer.