The Ozark trilogy Read online

  We would of made a pretty sight. Sterling and me and my saddlebags, and the Yallerhound riding behind me licking my neck and my hair as we flew by. Not to mention the fact that, given the magic I was supposed to be able to perform, we would of had to drop like a stone. A Mule couldn’t carry that much weight, even if it was precious cargo instead of stupid beast. I had to make up my mind what to do with the thing.

  I could simply leave it here, a “gift” to the Castle, and claim I had no idea where it had come from—which was, in a sense, true. They’d never forgive me, and they’d probably shut it up in the stables to die of heartbreak and the conviction that it had done something wrong—but I could do that.

  I could claim that their Magicians had sicced the silly thing on me, and gain a few points that way, since they wouldn’t be able to prove that they hadn’t. But the results for the innocent Yallerhound would be the same, if I left it behind.

  I could buy another Mule to carry it and take it with me— thus guaranteeing that I’d took like a fool and be greeted like one at every Castle left on my itinerary.

  Or I could try to do something with more flair to it, and maybe some justice. Like send it back to its Granny, O! True, I shouldn’t be able to do that. True, she’d know that I had. But she couldn’t tell on me without telling what she’d done, and what she’d done was a pure disgrace. Therefore!

  “My pretty Yallerhound,’* I said, frantically ducking the purple tongue and encountering it all the same, “do you know what I think? I think you should go right back to where you came from! Poor Granny Golightly has got no Yallerhound to love her, and I’ll bet she’s dirty as seven little boys dividing up syrup in August. She undoubtedly, indubitably needs a Yallerhound to look after her, don’t you think?”

  Its eyes got wide and its tongue paused long enough for me to wipe my face off once. It had just enough brain to know I was talking about it, as well as to it. I tapped it on its nose, gently, and I scratched it on its hairy stomach, gently, and I set to work.

  Crystals were not my style, but I didn’t need one. I had no trouble finding my lady Golightly in my mirror; She slept curled like a scrawny baby in a high bed on the third floor of Castle dark, under a thick red comforter stuffed with squawker feathers, and a smile of innocent bliss upon her face. I dumped the Yallerhound right on top of the smile.

  CHAPTER 7

  I SAT IN THE LIBRARY at Castle Motley, drinking coffee so strong you could of stood a spoon up in it easy, still weak-kneed from the recent shenanigans but pleased that I’d arrived here without any unbecoming incidents. Sterling had flown across the narrow channel to Mizzurah with nary a wobble, no more creatures of any size or description had joined me as I flew, and if there was an adventure headed at me for this station on the Quest it had yet to arrive. And I was willing to wait.

  We were even having a pleasant conversation—something I’d been missing for quite a while now. Me and my host, Halbreth Nicholas Smith the 12th, and the lady of his Castle, Diamond of Motley. Just the three of us. There was a small informal supper planned for the evening, I’d been told, and a hunt breakfast the next morning, but no great to-do’s. That suited me; I had another slice of fresh hot bread with blazonberry jam, braced myself against the coffee, and relaxed.

  Diamond of Motley was a placid woman, gone stout and not the least bothered by it, with her red hair wound around her head in a coronet of thick braids that was about as becoming as measles but otherwise perfectly suitable. She had eleven children and an unshakable serenity; just looking at her rested me. Hearing her say that she and hers were looking forward to the Jubilee delighted me.

  “Diamond of Motley,” I said, “that does me good! It’s a great occasion for Ozark, and it should be looked forward to. I’ve not heard much talk along that line since I left Brightwater.”

  “You’ve been where now, Responsible?” her husband asked me.

  “McDaniels, Clark, Airy, Guthrie, and Farson.”

  “A shame you had to miss Castle Smith,” said Diamond. “Who’d of thought there was still a cavecat left on Oklahomah?”

  “I wouldn’t,” I told hec “But I learned.”

  “Well, Smith’s gain is our loss,” said Halbreth Nicholas, gallant as you please, “you’re here the sooner. Think you missed anything in particular there?”

  I looked at him, not sure what he meant, and he was tamping down his pipe and staring into it like he was looking for omens.

  “According to a rumor as came this way,” he said carefully, still eyeing the tobacco, “Smith wasn’t expecting you anyhow ... it’s going round that there was a note sent asking you not to come.”

  Ah, the close-mouthed Smiths; this would be their doing. Gabble, gabble, gabble, all the time.

  “As it happened, that’s true,” I said. “They sent me a letter.”

  “Signed by?”

  “Dorothy of Smith—the oldest.”

  Halbreth Nicholas lit his pipe and took a long draught. He was a Smith himself, and head of this Castle only because there’d been no Motley sons in the last generation. If my memory served me right, he’d be the second cousin of the blusterer that filled the same role at Castle Smith.

  “She say why?” he asked me.

  “They claimed a family crisis.”

  “Hmmph.” He blew a fine smoke ring, and he watched it rise, and he said no more. Which was only to be expected. I wanted to say something comforting about everybody having relatives they’d as soon they didn’t have to own up to, but that sort of thing was the proper remark for a Granny, not a Castle daughter and I held my peace.

  Diamond of Motley was not so inhibited—after all, it wasn’t her relatives. She asked me straight out, leaning over to pour me more coffee and push the jam dish closer to my plate:

  “Does it make you suspicious of them, child?”

  “You know what’s been going on at Castle Brightwater,” I said.

  “Been on all the comsets. Soured milk, smashed mirrors, kidnapped babies, and such truck. Everybody’s heard all about it by now.”

  “Well,” I said. “it’s one of those ‘which comes first: the squawker or the egg’ things, to my mind. If Castle Smith is guilty of all this mischief, then telling me not to stop by their door makes them look guiltier. On the other hand, if you’re guilty, doing something like that tips your hand so plain and easy that you can’t imagine anyone with half a brain doing it; that makes them look as innocent as the babe kidnapped. On the other hand, if you were guilty and wanted to look innocent, doing something so outrageous as that would be a canny move. It goes round and round.”

  “So it does,” she said, “and what’s your own opinion?” The question put me in a very awkward position. There sat her husband, him a Smith by birth and close kin to those at Castle Smith this minute, and she asked me such a thing? She was a typical six, and properly named, and her husband stepped into the breach and saved me neatly.

  “Shame on you, darlin’,” he told her “putting the young woman on the spot like that. How can she say right in front of me and under my own roof that she suspects my close kin of treason against the Confederation? At least let her finish with her food before you throw her into a bog like that!”

  “Oh,” she said, “you know, I didn’t think?”

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” he observed, and he touched her cheek gently. It was clear he doted on her; and that was nice. “But you must try, now and again.” Then he surprised me.

  “Would you like to know what I think?” he asked abruptly.

  “Indeed I would. If you’re willing to say.”

  “I am,” he said. “Delldon Mallard the 2nd, for all he’s my cousin, and his three brothers with him, never have had sense enough to pound sand in a rat hole. They’re ornery enough to do the kind of foolishness that’s been coming down, that’s a point against them; and they’re silly enough not to see that they’re surrounded on all sides by Families loyal to the Confederation, and would be well advised to run with the pa
ck at least until the Jubilee gives us all a chance to see how the land lies. But, and nevertheless. I don’t think they could of carried it off this long without making some fool mistake that would of given them away—that’s a point for them. And furthermore, Granny Gableftame’s at Castle Smith, and I don’t believe she’d put up with it for a minute, nor do I believe they could put it past her, Now that, my dear, is what I think.”

  “And so thought the Clarks,” I said, nodding my head. “Including Granny Golightly.”

  “Wicked old lady, that one!” put in Diamond of Motley. “Downright wicked!”

  “Grannys aren’t wicked. Diamond,” said her husband firmly. “They’re just contrary, and it’s expected of them. She’s a tad worse than some of the others, might could be ... but she has an image to live up to.”

  “And,” I concluded, “so think I. I don’t believe Castle Smith is in this.”

  “And the others?” They asked me together, right in chorus.

  “The McDaniels and the Clarks, not a chance of it,” I said. “As for the Airys, you know how they are, I don’t know where they get it from. The Guthries and the Parsons, from what I can tell and the tales they’re spinning, are bent on carving up one another and the poor Purdys along with them. If they’ve thought of the Confederation in the last two months, I’ll be surprised, and the Jubilee? If they don’t want to go, they just won’t. And everything you said of the Smiths applies to the Purdys ... if they were playing these tricks they’d of betrayed themselves early, early on.”

  “And us, my dear?”

  I smiled at him, and had some more coffee. “I just got here,” I said. “Suppose you tell me how you feel about these things.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “All the better.”

  “Mizzurah is a mighty small continent, and it’s right off the port bow, if you’ll allow the figure, of Arkansaw and all that feuding and carrying on. We’ve got the Wommacks and the Travellers on our flanks, and a hell of a lot of ocean—beg your pardon, ladies—all around, and nobody but Castle Lewis to rely on should all of the others decide to move in on us. Guthries, Parsons, Purdys, Wommacks, and Travellers, that is. They have us cut off completely from Marktwain and Oklahomah.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means we’re in an interesting position, if you like interesting, but a chancy one. You’ll find the Lewises as strong for the Confederation as the Airys, though a mite less drivelly about it, and they’d stand firm in any crisis; but they’re even smaller than we are, they couldn’t hold out a week. And we couldn’t defend them. Therefore, I tell you quite frankly, Responsible of Brightwater, that Castle Motley stands for the Confederation of Continents, and does so openly—but you can’t count on us for anything dramatic.”

  He was right, if unromantic. Mizzurah was the smallest of the six continents, and it sat all alone in the middle of the oceans with its three great neighbors hemming it on all sides. Castle Motley was in no position to make rash promises.

  “But you’ll be at the Jubilee?” I asked him, hoping.

  “We’ll be there,” he assured me. “You heard my wife; her and the children, they’re looking forward to it, and a lot of our staff. It’s a rare chance when we can get away and see something besides our own Castle yard. We plan to leave very shortly, as a matter of fact, because we’re going by water everywhere we can—no Mules for my household, thank you, except flat on the solid ground, and no more of ‘em then man’s absolutely required. But we can’t offer you anything else but our presence, and no daring political moves—you might as well know that.”

  I wondered if he knew anything that I didn’t, and couldn’t see what I’d lose by asking.

  “Halbreth Nicholas, do you expect some daring moves from somebody else?”

  He knocked out his pipe and set it down, and then he counted out his propositions with the side of one palm on the flat of the other

  “First,” he said, “there’s already those trying to scuttle the Jubilee outright. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “I think you’ll be able to stop that ... this Quest of yours is an exaggeration, but it’s caught people’s fancy, and I believe they’ll come to see what happens next, if for no other reason. Dragons and a tourney in the courtyard at Castle Brightwater, maybe?”

  I grinned at him.

  “Second,” he went on, “assuming, as I do think we can assume, that there will be a Jubilee, even if one or two of the Families boycott it—and frankly, I doubt that strongly; like I said before, every one of them is curious, and if anything’s going to happen they don’t want to miss it—if the Jubilee does come off as scheduled, I look for a formal move to dissolve the Confederation.”

  “Happens every time we meet,” I said. “That would be no surprise.”

  “Not exactly,” said Halbreth Nicholas, “not exactly. Nobody’s proposed that seriously within anybody’s memory. No, what always happens is the move to cut it back to one day a year; and then that’s voted down ... by how much depending on how the Wommacks are wobbling that month.”

  “My dear,” said Diamond of Motley, “I’m afraid I really don’t see much difference. In effect, that is.”

  “Oh, there’s a difference,” he said, “yes, there is. True, that ritual meeting would make the Confederation an empty pretense, a regular little bug of a planetary government and not worth spitting at. But so long as it met even that long, they’d only have one meeting’s worth of satisfaction. Brightwater’d move to return to meeting four times a year, Castle Lewis’d second, and the vote would go as usual—seven to five or eight to four. Dissolving the thing, meaning no meetings atall, would be quite a different thing altogether.”

  I felt a chill between my shoulders ... not that I hadn’t had the same idea cross my mind, but if it came this easy to him there might be many others sharing it.

  “You think they could do it, Halbreth Nicholas?”

  “I think they’ll for damned sure try.”

  “But do you think they can bring it off? The vote has always gone against them, even on the meeting cutback ... “

  “But weak votes, young woman, weak votes,” he said solemnly. “You can’t count on the Wommacks, them and their curse. It may well be you can’t count on the Smiths, considering this latest development. If all our neighbors pulled out, I’m not prepared to say you could count on the Motleys or the Lewises, either.”

  “Halbreth Nicholas Smith,” said Diamond of Motley, so shocked her spoon rattled in her cup.

  “My dear,” he said, “we must face facts. Castle Motley is not self-sufficient, nor Castle Lewis either. If Alkansaw, Kintucky, and Tinaseeh decided to blockade us so that no supplies could be shipped in from Oklahomah or Maiktwain, just where do you think we’d be? We can grow vegetables and fruit here, and raise a goat or two, but that’s about it. No sugar. no salt, no coffee, no tea, no metals, no supplies for the Grannys or the Magicians, no manufactured goods to speak of. And where do you think our power comes from, Diamond of Motley? It comes from the Parsons and the Guthries, who can equally well cut it off. No law says they have to sell to us.”

  “Our windmills,” she said. “Our solar collectors—and our tides.”

  I tried to imagine the population of Mizzurah managing with its windmills and its solar technology and its tides, with all the huge hulking bulk of three continents cutting off both wind and water on three sides, and it raining or cloudy three quarters of the year or more, and I admired Halbreth Nicholas for not smiling. She was a good woman, was Diamond, but she hadn’t much grasp of logistics.

  “No,” he said, but he said it respectfully, “I’m afraid they wouldn’t suffice, Diamond. The Lewises, now, they are just pig-beaded enough that they might go the rest of us one better!”

  “Withdraw from the withdrawal, you mean.”

  “Exactly. And live on greens and goatmeat, and burn ... oh, candles, for all I know. They might. But not us, Responsible, and I want that underst
ood. I’ve many families here depending on me and they’re not expecting to go back to Old Earth standards and the year 2000. And I don’t intend to ask it of them.”

  “You’d vote for dissolving, then.”

  “If it was clear that that was the way it was going—yes. Regardless of how the Lewises might decide. It’s not my druthers, young woman, but it’s the facts of life. We are dependent on Arkansaw, Kintucky, and Tinaseeh, and there’s no way to change that short of moving the continent of Mizzurah to a new location just off your coast. Are your Magicians of Rank up to a project like that?”

  Moving Mules was one thing; moving continents was quite another; I didn’t try to answer

  “Law, but you’ve made a gloomy day of it, Mr. Motley!” said his wife. “I hope you’re proud of yourself!”

  I was quite sure he wasn’t; in fact, I was quite sure he was ashamed. He would of liked to hear himself saying that if the vote came to end the Confederation his delegates would be right there at the front telling the rotters to do their damndest and to hell with them. Begging the pardon of any ladies present, of course. That went with the image he’d of liked to have of himself. But he was a practical man, and an honest one, and he knew he’d do what went with that. Diamond of Motley was right; he’d made it a gloomy day.

  I went off to my room to rest for a while before supper, and found a servingmaid waiting there, pretending—not very skillfully—to still be unpacking my saddlebags and clearing up. She looked eleven, but had the frail look of a Purdy to her, too, which meant she was probably my own age or a bit more, and her hair was falling down from the twist she’d put it in and hanging down around her face. My fingers itched to set it right—I can’t abide a sloppy woman—but I didn’t know her and I couldn’t take liberties.

  “Hello, young woman,” I said, friendly as I could manage in my dreary mood, “are you having a problem with some of those things? What is it, a fastening you can’t get loose?”