Operation luna, p.32
Operation Luna, page 32
I got Val and Ben kind of soothed. They could be trusted to keep quiet. Chryssa might forget to, but who'd take her seriously or even know what she was babbling about? In fact, she didn't really understand what I related, only that it wasn't happy. She still fretted. Her sister heartened her with an impromptu story about Moldylocks and the Pig Baby.
After that we could eat and play games and sing songs and look in on the museum and hike around some. Those hours were good. I wished there could have been more. But if nothing else, the kids were too tired to be overly worried when at last we flew homeward through the long light of a westering sun.
We entered into a thunderstorm of hoarse laughter. "Haw, haw, haw!" Fjalar rolled on the floor, slapped his thigh, kicked his legs aloft. The farseer was concluding an English-language performance of Gounod's Faust. Since that's a favorite opera of mine, I asked what was funny.
"That man, he got run through, he ban dying, and he sang!" whooped the dwarf. He wiped his streaming eyes. "He sang and sang. He fell down, he stood back up, he fell down, he stood up, he fell down, he flopped like a landed fish, and alvays he sang! Now they ban going to burn that poor girl alive, and she sings!"
Different folk, different tastes.
"Has my lady called on you?" I finally managed to inquire.
"Ja, yust vunce, a few kvestions. She vill come out soon and tell us Ay vas right. You got any more humorous shows?"
Our music library contained some audiovisuals. I wondered about Wagner's Ring. No, Fjalar might rupture himself guffawing. Ginny saved me from making a decision when she appeared.
She was exhausted, white-faced, her hands trembling slightly, but fire burned green behind her eyes. "I'm done," she said, her voice not quite level. "We'll go, Fjalar."
"Ay knew it," replied the dwarf smugly.
She took my hands. Hers were cold. I told myself that was from weariness. "It's all right, darling," she whispered. "I verified the crossover is possible. Ordinarily it's hard. There's no body of belief here anymore, and the time lines have branched far apart. But given Fjalar's presence, his affinity, I can make it more easily than… the one we made before. And we'll meet with no hostility."
Oh, yeah? my mind groaned. What about trolls and dragons and giants and draws and the rest of that merry crew? I wouldn't trust old One-Eye much, either. For the sake of the youngsters I kept it to myself. Nothing was ever certain anyway. Maybe here at home drunks on brooms were a worse hazard.
Dusk was filling the room. The glare and noise of the farseer deepened it in every other corner. Ginny squared her shoulders. "We should start making arrangements," she continued. "First about the children. Let's see if Will can take over again."
Action is the best medicine for anxiety. We phoned her brother and he said we'd be welcome. Leaving Valeria in charge, we flitted with Fjalar to his house. The sky was turning purple and windows had come aglow among shadows beneath. The lights on other vehicles bobbed past like fireflies. The air was as cool as a stranger's kiss.
Will guided us into his cluttered quarters, fussed about with cups and a pot of tea, finally sat down opposite us. He seemed frazzled, his smiles mostly mechanical. However, when we asked he said that, sure, he could move back to our house anytime and stay as long as we wished, "if you don't mind the FBI making eye tracks all over it. But what's the occasion?"
That I was bound off with Balawahdiwa couldn't be hidden. I told him about seeking native help against the demons. Maybe he'd have a suggestion or two. Instead, he lost what cordiality he'd shown. "That doesn't strike me as a very hopeful idea, or even a wise one," he snapped.
"Why not?" I replied, surprised. "You know something you haven't told us?"
"No. But remember what happened when last you invoked one of those Beings."
"It wasn't any of them that tried to kill us!" At once I regretted my outburst. Did he flinch? "Sorry, Will. I shouldn't have said that." I fumbled for better words. "Seeing as how you've been falsely accused, why shouldn't you cheer us on in anything that might clear you?"
"I feel dubious. Call it an intuition."
"I'm afraid we engineers haven't much training in intuition," I argued, trying for lightness. "I'm going, regardless. Nothing to lose."
Maybe.
He looked at his sister. "You too?" It sounded almost like "Et tu?" Why?
She shook her head. "No, I'll be working on the tax mess That'll take me… out of town."
"Where, please?"
Fjalar opened his mouth. Ginny's tap on the shoulder warned him and his teeth thumped together. "I'd better not speak about it yet, except that the prospect seems good." Pain was in her voice too. Deciding to keep this from him had not come easy. It was like admitting to Will that our trust in him was not quite a hundred percent. Oh, close enough, or we'd never have requested his services. But he could just possibly, unknowingly, act as some kind of information conduit…
In fact, this was in a way the case. "Yes, I am under surveillance," he said with a shrug. "Possibly the stakeouts hear everything uttered in this house. I wish them joy of it."
"We've nothing illegal in mind," I declared hastily.
Fjalar broke the embarrassed silence that followed. "Vere ban Brynjubitr?"
"Ah, Fotherwick-Botts? It—he's back in the room I use for a laboratory." Will's withholdingness broke. He brightened as the sea does when a sunbeam strikes through a fog bank. "Do you want him along on your venture?"
"No, better not," Fjalar opined. "He don't know his vay around yonder, and maybe he says the wrong thing. He's not tactful like me. And if ve meet real trouble, no veapon vill help mush."
That was great news for my ears. Will's smile died. His eyes narrowed.
Before I could introduce a motion to cancel the whole crazy junket, Ginny cried, "Nonsense, Fjalar!"
Her relief was plain to see when the dwarf proceeded: "But ve should hang the sword in the smithy to keep vatch and call an alarm if need be vile ve ban gone."
Will's gladness revived for a moment. "Absolutely! Why don't you take him out there tonight, to make sure?"
"He talks a lot?" I asked redundantly.
Will winced. "I didn't realize how much. It has eroded my powers of concentration. He's gotten as far as some tenth-century affray in Yorkshire."
Ginny smiled compassionately. "Poor dear. Yes, well release you, with many thanks."
"Ve shouldn't bring him avay tonight," Fjalar cautioned. "He'd think you didn't like his tales, and be hurt. He's sensitive, you know."
"Tell him you're worn out and have to turn in early," Ginny suggested. Her glance at Will said that he certainly looked it. "Fjalar and I will fetch him in the morning. You get your stuff together, and as soon as I'm ready to leave you can move over."
Will's face locked into the mask we knew too well. "Ah, yes. You may rely on me."
I worried a smidgen, and Ginny admitted to me later that she did too. But whatever his problem was, it hadn't caused him to do anything really erratic. The psychoscopy had proved that the evidence against him must be a frame-up. The FBI monitored him as much in hopes of getting a clue to the somebody or something responsible as because of lingering suspicion.
The kids loved their Uncle Will, he'd done fine by them the last time around, and… in the event of an emergency, Val was mature enough to call for the right kind of help. Ginny told me privately she'd brief her in more detail, just in case.
What with all this, my renewed objections to the Mimir expedition were brushed aside.
Before then, Will had declined our invitation to dinner, saying that he was in truth fatigued. We returned home and actually had a rather pleasant family evening. If the cheer was a tad forced, it wasn't fake. Eventually Ginny and I were alone together and made our own farewell.
* * *
37
Now the story splits again, three ways this time. I'll have to reconstruct two of them from what information came to me later, most of it brokenly, and the best guesses I can make. Nor may I say much about my own experiences. They're branded on my memory, but I gave my word of honor I'd keep certain things secret.
Ginny had been awake and active for hours while I still slept. At the earliest decent time she flew back to Will's. He let her in, himself also fully clad. "I hope I haven't disturbed you," she said for politeness' sake.
"Oh, no." He spoke dully. "I've been up for two or three hours."
She looked at the wan face. "You sleep very little these nights, don't you?"
"I manage. I thought the dwarf would come with you."
"Why pummel him out of bed and coffee him? I've a great deal to do in the shortest possible time."
"Such as?"
"Just now, taking the sword to the workshop. Frankly, I'd as soon not have Fjalar along. Those two can get into dialogues so long and rambling you wouldn't believe it. And he would doubtless criticize my work, as if it weren't perfectly simple and straightforward."
Did Will stiffen? "What work, if I may ask?"
"Well, you remember the idea is to leave Fotherwick-Botts there on watch, to notify the Zunis if anything untoward happens. But I'm not entirely satisfied with the alarm system. This is a busy time of year for them. They may not be able to respond at once. Or if the 'something untoward' is more subtle than a burglar or a vandal, they may feel confused, unsure how to react. That's especially true while Balawahdiwa, the man among them who's worked most closely with us, is absent the next several days. It occurred to me that I can provide a direct line of communication to Steve. Whether or not he can come immediately in person, he can give advice. I have to have it ready for him before he goes."
Will seemed to turn the idea over in his mind, weighing and peering, before he nodded. "Yes, a reasonable precaution. I'll fetch the garrulous glaive." Sometimes his academic humor still flickered.
The blade had been sheathed. Ginny left it so, said good-bye—with the slightest catch in her voice—and went out into the chill, hushed morning.
Nobody else was in sight when she landed at the smithy. Shadows stretched westward from sparse grass, brush, and wildflowers. Dowa Ya-lanne dreamed in the offing, red-and-white, rugged, mighty. A few insects buzzed. Somewhere a mountain bluebird cried teww, teww.
Fjalar having reclaimed the keys, she let herself in with the spare for the padlock, leaving the door open for light. Nevertheless the space reached cavernous and gloomy. Poised on her parking gear, Owl shimmered, beautiful. Ginny took the sword forth. Steel gleamed likewise. She laid the scabbard on a workbench.
"I say," Fotherwick-Botts exclaimed from her hand, "what is this farce, eh, what? Thought I was a guest of Graylock's. Suddenly he boots me out. After casing me before nine in the ruddy P.M. yesterday. Right in the middle of my describing that set-to on Barmby Moor."
"I'm sorry," she replied. "We arrived and caused him to interrupt. But that was an emergency. You understand."
"Emergency? Hah. He didn't say. Certainly I understand emergencies. What kind of weapon would I be if I didn't understand emergencies? Tell me that, eh? What are weapons for if not emergencies? Yes, display and taking of oaths and whatnot, true. But fighting's what it's about, egad. And after you'd gone, he didn't unsheathe me, that Graylock. Is this your American idea of hospitality?"
"He was exhausted. He had to sleep."
"Hrrumph, he was awake bloody early, I can tell you. Didn't so much as say good morning. Left me gagged. No other word will do. Gagged, by thunder. Hah! Bah!"
"I'm sure he was too preoccupied." Ginny set him on the bench, leaned against the wall. "He had hoped for leisure to hear you out later today."
"Indeed? Tchah! If he was really int'rested— How could he not be? There I was, telling how I clove that scoundrel from left shoulder to right hip. Tasted terrible, he did. Hadn't bathed in months, I'll wager, and shaggy as a dog. How could any thinking person wait to hear the rest of the tale? Anyone but a, a born-and-bred civilian!"
"But General, sir, I had dire need of you," she cried piteously.
His wrath puffed away. "You did? You do? Dire need, m'lady? Why didn't you say so at once? At your service, madame! Just bring me to the villains and I'll spill their rotten guts for 'em. I'll sending 'em yelping down to the Devil. If you'll pardon an old soldier's language."
"No, thank you very much for your kindness, but that won't be necessary. At least, not yet. We want—we request you to keep watch here for some days while everybody else is away. You're tireless. If someone tries to break in or otherwise make trouble, you'll sound the alarm and the Zunis will come."
Fotherwick-Botts grew suspicious. "Everybody else? Going away? The dwarf too? What for, ha?"
"Oh, er, various errands."
"Errands? What sort? Bad business, this, that we're in. I smell danger skulking about." The sword paused. "You—are you bound off on a—a quest?"
"Well, in a way."
"A quest! And I'm to hang behind like the tail on a ruddy cow? Bleat for help from a pack of natives? No, by Cross and Hammer both!" he roared. "If you suppose I will, little do you know what a Fotherwick-Botts is full of!"
Ginny thought fast. Though he had no power over her, a surly sword could well prove a sloppy sentry. "But this is different, sir. The quest is only for knowledge. More like a pilgrimage. Yes, that's it, a pilgrimage. Here is the stronghold the foe must take if he can. I wouldn't ask anyone who wasn't totally fearless to stand guard. You, ringed in by the forces of darkness, standing your lonely vigil—"
His volume dropped. "Vigil, did you say?"
"Come worst to worst, you will blow your horn, so to speak, like Heimdall on the walls of Asgard or Roland in the pass of Roncesvalles."
"Hum, ha, see your point, m'lady. A vigil, eh? And a call to rally the troops. And then I'll join in the battle."
"When this need arose, we thought of you first. You are superb at blowing your own horn."
Thus she won his agreement. She hung him by two pegs above the bench before she adjusted and tested the alarm system. It was merely an open phone to the pueblo governor's dwelling. Somebody was always there, doing housework if nothing else. That person could holler for the tribal police. A number of able-bodied men had been deputized to strengthen their tiny band. The system could also call for assistance from the sheriffs office in Gallup. Since those people hadn't been briefed— discretion—reinforcements might take a while to arrive.
However, we didn't expect any huge assault. The enemy could have only a few humans working for them, maybe only the slippery customer we were trying to find. As for demons and other Beings, the protective spells remained potent. Ginny knew better than to tell Fotherwick-Botts that we thought of planting him here as nothing more than a cheap precaution against an unlikely contingency, like buying a life insurance policy from a vendor before boarding a commercial flight. And it'd keep him out of Will's hair, which was plenty gray enough.
So we thought.
She went on to operations that involved Owl. Quick and easy for a witch of her skill, they did not demand any physical or goetic examination of the spacecraft. That wasn't unfortunate, it was much worse.
Having bidden the sword a ceremonious farewell and received a gruff godspeed, she flitted home. When she walked in I was about to fix breakfast for the lads. She took over and made it good. She always made everything good.
We were almost casual as we saw Val and Ben off for school. I was going on an excursion, sort of, and their mother wouldn't leave today. Yet I stood at the door and watched them till they were out of sight.
Inside again, I met Ginny as she came out of my study. Chryssa trotted at her heels. "I returned the smithy key to your desk drawer," she said, "in case you have use for it when Fjalar and I aren't here."
The reminder spoiled my mood. "Hey, didn't you figure your jaunt might be shorter than mine?"
"Might. I still have much to learn and do. In any case, we can't foretell how things will go." She smiled and patted my hand. Sunlight streamed down the hall where we stood, to make ripples of fire in her hair and ripples of shadow across the curves beneath her clothes. "Don't worry so, dear old woof. C'mon, I've got something for you."
She led me to the living room. From the jacket she'd taken off and left lying there, she drew a pair of flat rock crystal discs about an inch in diameter. I stared. There was nothing obviously special about them. Probably every working thaumaturge has blanks like this in stock, to carry assorted lands of everyday spells.
"Communicators," she explained. "That's why I roused myself at an unsanctified hour. I got the idea last night, after—" She glanced down at Chryssa. "As I was falling asleep. It's simply a portable, untappable phone line. Naturally, it had to be made ready before you start off today."
Such a device wasn't "simply." I wondered just how long and hard she'd worked on it. Eagerness drove that out of me. "We can talk while you're in yonder universe?"
"No, I'm afraid not. Nobody's developed the capability." Transcosmic expeditions had been mighty few, I recalled. Some had never been seen again. " 'Untappable' is the operative word. I've sympathized both these to Owl's communication globe, which is unique, you know. Through it, you and I can be in instantaneous touch across any distance—in this continuum—and nobody and nothing not in actual earshot should be able to listen in on us."
"Unless in possession of Owl… But we've provided against that, haven't we?" I couldn't help thinking of the hopeful applications. "Say, this'll come in handy when she's in space. Ought not to need all that apparatus to transmit voice in airlessness."
"Yes, it's mind-resonant, though given air it does audio. In case one of us has to be aroused, for instance."
"Smart girl. Um-m, but Balawahdiwa and I are supposed to be in spiritual retreat."
"I realize that. Matters will get grim indeed before I yell for you. What I mostly considered was the situation after we both come home."
"Yeah, when we try carrying the war to the enemy. But it's nice to have this gadget already. Thank you, darling."
Chryssa clutched my leg. I rumpled her curls. "Hey, honey, nothing to be scared of. This is only a funny phone. We'll let you talk on it later, okay? The boogies are far away. As far as Moldylocks is from the soap works. Want to come watch us make jewelry?"
