The Secret of Spring

by Piers Anthony

  Too bad Gabriel was no longer around to lend assistance, but that heavy-handed female he hired had gotten carried away with her duties. Then Elton had finished the job. He was young, and the young always grew impatient. Now he was attempting to make up for his blunder by tracking down Gabriel’s elusive daughter to return her for interrogation.

  Zygote had made it clear he would brook no violence in her case. If the key to the information was as he had surmised from pieces of broken codes, it might be the most pleasant interrogation he had ever conducted.

  Zygote ceased his reverie and bent once more to the task of removing the troublesome spells, cursing anew as a three-headed snake slithered across the floor toward him. He took off all three heads with one quick slice of his enchanted sword. Preparation. That was the key to a magician’s long life. Smiling, he replaced the sword in its scabbard as the snake puffed into smoke and disappeared.

  His smile was replaced by an expression of surprise as he felt a sprinkle of wetness. A sudden storm brewing? He glanced to the window but no rain was blowing in. The sun was shining as brightly as it always did unless he decreed otherwise with a rain spell.

  He looked upward, then brought out a kerchief and wiped some sticky residue from his eyelid. He held the cloth beneath his nose and sniffed. Really—Gabriel had pressed the boundaries of good taste this time. Zygote pulled an umbrella from beneath the table and sighed as he opened it above his head. There was nothing to do but wait out the shower of bird dung.

  9

  Discovery

  Spring paced the floor of her small room awaiting Iolanthe’s return. She had another letter to send and knew the lightship had landed. There wouldn’t be another one for three months, so timing was critical. It went on alternate cycles of coming every other week for three months, then skipping three.

  She had been lucky to have timed her first inquiry on the frequent cycle because it allowed her to have answers quickly. It was vitally important that Iolanthe smuggle this last one out.

  Spring had decided to visit Herb of P#23 in three months when the ship returned. That would give him time to prepare for their meeting and for her to plan her departure so that Zygote would be none the wiser.

  She had pushed her luck by remaining in one place for so long. Now that her father was gone, for all she knew Zygote might have found clues to her hideaway among Gabriel’s papers. That wasn’t too likely, as he had been so intent on strict secrecy, but there was nothing more she could accomplish by staying on with the gentle Companions of New Moon now.

  It was time to be getting on with her plan of revenge. Zygote had been spared her wrath far too long. There was not a moment of the day that she did not feel the bitterness of her father’s loss. Zygote must be made to suffer as she was suffering. It wasn’t much to live for, but it would have to do.

  Yet, Spring did not feel right plotting such mayhem among the peaceful people of New Moon. They had granted her refuge when she was in need, and in return she had defied their rules and betrayed their trust. Now she was corrupting poor little Iolanthe by having her post letters to the outside. And she must do it again one last time. It was necessary the letter to Herb get to that lightship.

  By mid-afternoon Spring began to worry in earnest. Where could Iolanthe be? It was not like the girl to be absent for so long. Spring began to have premonitions of disaster, but tried to push them aside. Nerves were her worst enemy. If she began to worry about her safety she would never get the job done. Poking around in the small pouch of crystals, she brought out a polished white moonstone. She must calm down.

  It was not until the dinner hour that Iolanthe entered, carrying a tray of fresh bread and vegetable chowder. She seemed distraught.

  “Where have you been?” Spring exclaimed accusingly. “I was frantic. I was afraid the lightship would leave before you posted my letter.” She pulled it from her pocket and thrust it at Iolanthe.

  The girl took the letter and sat down beside Spring at the small table. “Oh, Lady. What a day this has been. Usually, we only have supplies from the ship unless there is a Pledge.”

  “Pledge? Oh, you mean a new Companion?” Spring said.

  “Yes, but—” Iolanthe sighed.

  “What happened? Is something wrong?” Spring asked worriedly.

  “Yes and no. There was a man, a visitor.”

  “A man?” Spring said in surprise. “I understood no men were allowed to enter the Companion’s sanctuary?”

  “Yes, that is so. Companion Alma explained and explained to the captain of the lightship that it is not permitted, but the visitor was a very important, rich person and he kept insisting. Still, Companion Alma refused. She did agree, however, to meet with him at the lightport where the supplies are unloaded.”

  Spring took a spoonful of the thick white soup and a bit of the bread. Simple fare, but delicious. “And did that satisfy the visitor?” she asked.

  “No, but it was the best he could do. You know Companion Alma. When she says a thing, she means it.”

  “Oh yes, I know,” Spring agreed, smiling. Companion Alma was a short, little white-haired woman in her late sixties. She had rosy cheeks and the face of an angel, and had never raised her voice in her lifetime as far as Spring knew. Yet, all the Companions jumped to her least command as if she were Attila the Martian. “So, was she able to help him?” she asked.

  “Not really. He said he was seeking his cousin, a young woman who had journeyed here about five months ago. He said her mother had fallen gravely ill and it was needful for the daughter to return home before it was too late. A sad story.”

  An uneasy feeling began to come over Spring as she picked at the food. “Did Companion Alma know this girl?” she asked.

  “No, she couldn’t be of any help. Obviously, that girl must have gone to some other retreat. No one has joined us since you. Until today. We had one new Pledge aboard, also. But Companion Alma is aware that your mother is deceased and now your father, so of course, it could not be you.”

  Iolanthe babbled on about how rude the visitor became at not being allowed to come see for himself, and how Companion Alma made short work of putting him into his proper place. Spring felt a chill run down her spine. It was odd timing that a stranger, a man, would come asking questions . . .

  “Iolanthe,” she interrupted, “Do you know what this man looked like? Was he an older man? Tall and thin with a sharp grey beard?”

  Iolanthe laughed. “Oh no, Lady.”

  Spring breathed easier. Perhaps she was unduly nervous. For one awful moment she had been fearful that Zygote had managed to find her. Still—

  “How do you know? Were you there?” Spring asked.

  “Well,” Iolanthe said, scooting her chair closer and looking conspiratorially at Spring. “I really should not mention this.”

  “Go on. You have me curious now,” Spring urged.

  “It could not have been such a man as you describe because I did see him. Companion Alma was so long at the lightport that some of us grew worried and went down to join her. This man was not old at all. He was youthful and clean shaven. Yet, we could not help but laugh at him, though that was surely not a kind thing to do.” She laughed again in remembrance, and quickly put her hand over her mouth.

  “I don’t understand,” Spring said. “A young, clean shaven man. What was so funny?”

  “Well, he was so upset. He would not believe Companion Alma at first. He was absolutely positive that his cousin was here.”

  “Oh, he made a scene, did he?”

  “And how. But, he was so funny. He had such a high voice for a man, and even went so far as to stamp his feet. He was a small, little man, yes, but he acted more like a girl. One of the Companions, Leah, said she had seen such men, and that they really aren’t men. Or women. They come from a distant planet—Oh.”

  Iolanthe stopped and reached out to catch the water glass as it tumbled from Spring’s hand, crashing to the floor. It broke into scattered fragments as Iolanthe cr
ied out and jumped back, but Spring had not moved. She sat staring straight ahead as if she didn’t even notice.

  “Why, you’re as pale as a ghost, Lady,” Iolanthe exclaimed.

  10

  Unsuitable Suitor

  Are you certain that little man is as evil as you say?” Iolanthe asked. “He was strange, but seemed harmless.”

  “Yes, well. So did Dr. Jekyll until he turned into Mr. Hyde,” Spring said.

  “Who?” Iolanthe asked, puzzled.

  “Never mind. It’s an old story. I have to get away before he finds me.”

  “But the only way out is on the lightship, and he is on it too,” Iolanthe protested.

  “But if I don’t go, he’ll be back. Probably with goons like the ones who killed my father. Somehow they’ll find a way to get in, now they suspect I’m here. I don’t want anyone else hurt on my account, and they aren’t the sort to care who they have to step on to get to me.”

  “We will protect you.”

  “No, you can’t. I’ve already imposed on the Companions far too long anyway. I won’t endanger you. There has to be a way to get past him.” But what way could there be?

  Iolanthe thought for a moment; then a mischievous smile spread across her features. “Maybe there is.” She clapped her hands. “Companion Alma would put me in solitary a month!”

  “Why, Iolanthe,” Spring said, smiling. “Just what did you have in mind?”

  Spring took her seat on the lightship toward the rear of her compartment, trying to look unobtrusive and fade into the woodwork. There was no wood on lightships, of course, but it was the thought that counted.

  The dark stain on her arms had blended in beautifully and her face was painted in blue with white stripes in the custom of Tyranian males. The hood partially covered her face, and her hair was wrapped tightly in a turban-like swath of cloth beneath it.

  It was a little hard to breathe naturally after Iolanthe had bound her breasts flat with more cloth and adhesive strips, but it would be worth it all if she could pass for a man until reaching her destination.

  Iolanthe had sewn the costume using a photo from one of the magazines Spring had found under her bed. They picked out the Tyranian because it was the most concealing look they could find. Many of the offworlder males wore little or nothing to conceal their muscles, but for Spring’s purpose, the less revealed, the better. The shoulder pads gave her body a more masculine look, and the boots added height. The hardest part was when they had painstakingly cut and glued on a moustache from the milk goat’s tail. All things considered, it was not a bad disguise.

  She had to remember not to cross her legs in a ladylike manner when sitting, and to watch how she walked. The natural feminine swing of her hips could easily betray her gender if she wasn’t on guard. Spring hoped she had entered with a proper male swagger as she slumped down in the seat, unconcernedly letting her legs fall apart. It would almost be fun if it weren’t so serious. One slip and all would be lost.

  Elton might be slime, but he was no dunce. He might even suspect she would try to escape on the ship after his attempt to enter the sanctuary. She had not seen any sign of him so far; he was probably in one of the expensive compartments. That was the main reason she had opted for simple accommodations in the budget section. All she needed was to be stuck in the same compartment with him all the way to the next stop.

  There was an attractive redhead in the seat next to hers giving her the once-over. In theory, it was easier to deceive a man about her sex than another woman. A female might recognize another however well she contrived to conceal herself. Spring averted her eyes and closed them as if resting.

  This lightship, like many others of its ilk, concealed a modern technology in a shroud of nostalgia. The USS Orion, Universal Star Ship, resembled a luxury coach train, an archaic mode of transportation employed by the wealthy ancients who must have had much time to spend in travelling to their destinations.

  Quaint it might be, but it presented another unwanted aspect to the trip. She would have to go to a common dining facility for her meals. That would put her on display before more people than she cared for. Perhaps even Elton.

  While that was one confrontation she relished, the timing was not yet right. She needed time to formulate the method of her retaliation, and she would have none should he discover her true nature now. She was confident he would be travelling with a goon or two to do his dirty work for him.

  Spring avoided the dining area for as long as possible, but a gnawing hunger finally forced her to risk it. She ordered what she hoped was a fast preparation dish from the robot menu at her table. When it came, she ate without pause so as to vacate quickly. She finished and had entered the narrow corridor leading back to her compartment when someone came bolting around the corner, stopping just short of crashing into her.

  The young man muttered a quick and insincere apology, then looked up scowling to see who had caused his inconvenience. Elton. The one person she hoped to avoid. She was not a tall girl but with the boots she was almost on an even eye level with the small Ki.

  “Sorry,” she muttered roughly, hoping her voice would not betray her. She had managed to avoid all speech until now, even to punching in her dinner order on the robot to bypass a waiter. Elton did not move aside, however, but stood looking at her appraisingly. Spring perspired beneath the paint and costume. Her heart was pounding like a hammer. All this trouble and he knew.

  “Oh, not at all, young Sir,” Elton said. “It was clearly my own fault, charging through these narrow passages like a rocket.” He laughed and gave her an odd look. Suddenly she realized. He was flirting with her—him. She had forgotten he had no gender preference, so anyone was fair game. She tried to look indifferent, and moved aside to let him pass. Still he lingered.

  “You know,” he continued, “there aren’t many passengers aboard of our age, and these trips can grow monotonous after a bit. What say we meet in the Smoker later, since you’ve had your meal and I am about to have mine?”

  A date with Elton? Swallowing her fury and revulsion, she opened her mouth to decline. “I—”

  “Now, I won’t take no for an answer. You can’t have anything better to do in that cramped compartment.” He had noticed the ID badge labeling her for the economy section, and evidently knew what space that allotted. Hardly any. “I will even share my Havanoz with you,” he offered magnanimously.

  Havanoz. That was a brand of very good, very expensive, very hard to obtain cigar, much prized throughout the system. Even Spring, a nonsmoker, had heard of them.

  “How—kind. But I couldn’t allow you—” she began again, and was again cut off.

  “Oh, but I insist. What pleasure do the finer things afford any of us, if we cannot share them with others?” He smiled sickeningly.

  Spring was in a quandary. Elton was determined to share her company. If she protested too much, he might get suspicious and look for other reasons for her rejection. Reluctantly, she chose the lesser of two evils.

  “Very well,” she agreed in her fake voice.

  “Splendid. Shall we say in, oh, an hour?”

  Spring nodded and pushed by him, escaping with relief to her tiny compartment. The girl had stepped out and she was alone. That was also a relief. She wished no further testing of her disguise for the moment.

  The time flew by on sonic wings and before she had fully assessed the situation, it was time for the meeting with Elton. Elton, the loathsome little snake who had in all likelihood been a part of her father’s murder.

  She wished she had her crystal pendant to touch and calm down with, but Tyranian men did not wear jewelry. Painted symbols on the face were their only adornment. The pendant was packed carefully away in a small travel bag along with her other stones. It was the first time in many years that she had been without it, her favorite gift from her father. The image of his face now flashed before her, giving her new incentive. She decided to get the unpleasant meeting over with.

  Whe
n Spring arrived in the Smoker, she spotted Elton seated in a booth toward the rear of the large compartment. She sauntered over with her best male gait and bowed slightly to him in greeting. He rose and politely motioned for her to take the seat across from him, then drew out an elaborate case from inside his apparel.

  Opening it, he offered her first choice of his prized cigars. She looked at them dubiously. Did he actually expect her to smoke that ugly thing? Naturally, as he had said as much earlier, but she had been so concerned with her close proximity with him, that she had completely blocked out the pretext for their meeting.

  “Don’t be shy, my friend. Your choice.” He shoved the case under her nose. She looked them over and selected the smallest and thinnest among them. They were all hand rolled, so differed slightly in size, but it was still a brute.

  Spring was not a smoker, even though tobacco had been refined to a nonlethal version of its ancient ancestor. There was no danger of cancer or lung disorders, but it remained a questionable occupation in her mind. She had studied tobacco as well as other recreational plants, but considered smoking to be a silly, rather nasty habit, used to waste time by those with nothing better to do than light a fire beneath their nose. She observed as Elton picked out a somewhat fat one, wet the end, and bit off a tiny piece.

  She tried to emulate his actions, then paused as he offered her a light from his golden case. Spring wasn’t sure what to do, but drew in the flame and puffed out the smoke as she recalled others doing. Elton then lit his, miraculously not noting how awkward she was with the process. At least she didn’t have to converse while puffing on the abominable thing.

  Elton took the lead in conversation, however, remarking on the service of the lightship and mentioning that although a seasoned traveller, he missed the companionship of friends and how glad he was to have met Spring.

  This brought on late introductions, as they had not done so in the hallway. She gave a typical one syllable name of the Tyranian man from the magazine, Mank. Elton introduced himself as “Zygote, the Great. Magician extraordinary.”