Tad Williams - The War of the Flowers (retail) (pdf)

by Tad Williams

  "Shape?" "Hellebore and the others know that someone is resisting them. I have arranged certain . . . events that have probably been noticed, although I flatter myself our enemies do not understand my reasons or my plans. But they will have gathered that someone is playing an opposing game to theirs. In fact, I hope you will assist me with one such small event tomorrow, thereby helping me and also keeping you out of the hands of the constables."

  Good lord, what are we into here? "What exactly do you want?" Since it was almost sunset, Mistress Twinge, Coathook, and Streedy Nettle had gone off to stand in the food lines, leaving Cumber and Theo the only people in the tent with the little goblin, but still Button lowered his voice. "The less you know the better, but I will tell you that Streedy's accident has made him . . . useful to me in many ways. I have put him to those sorts of uses several times already, but he must always be accompanied because he becomes confused. Last time it was to be Primrose to help him and ensure he got back to us again, but by misfortune it was the day of Hellebore's attacks on Daffodil and the other houses. Caradenus Primrose left here as a member in good standing of the ruling elite — an extremely useful ear and eye for me among the Flower clans. A few hours later he was a wanted criminal, his family dead, their house-tower besieged and then invaded by parliamentary forces. He had to flee the City center at risk of his life. Streedy was left to make his way back alone through that chaos, and if not for the help of some of our sympathizers in Goblintown . . ." Button shook his head.

  "But we're probably wanted too," Theo said. "At least I know I am. What good will it do sending us?" "Because tomorrow I need Caradenus Primrose for something else — something only he can do in a place only he of all of us could go. You two will have to help Streedy Nettle in a rather more public place. You are wanted by Hellebore and his tame parliament, yes, but the mirrortalkers have not spoken of you to the populace at large and there are no pictures of you yet in circulation." The goblin shrugged his small shoulders. "Still, it will be dangerous. I will not lie to you. You might be caught. If you are, I am sure you will be taken straight to your enemies."

  "But we can't stay here, either. At least not tomorrow." Theo looked to Cumber again. "What do you think?"

  "I'll go if you go, Theo."

  He turned back to Button. "And will whatever we're doing . . . will it be something against Hellebore and those bastards?"

  The goblin smiled his yellow smile. "Oh, yes."

  "And it won't hurt any innocent people? I'm not going to plant any bombs or anything." "I promise you, no one will be hurt by what you do tomorrow. But I must warn you that the day will come when it, hem, may not be possible to fight Hellebore and Parliament and still keep your distance from things that might harm people. Nothing less than a war will defeat them." He showed his yellow teeth again, this time without humor. "War is suffering, after all."

  "I'll deal with that when we get to it." Theo took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm in. Tell us what we need to do."

  ————— Streedy Nettle's odd appearance and even odder behavior — he twitched and mumbled even when he was at rest — had attracted the attention of some of the other passengers and Theo was beginning to feel nervous. He had never been a wanted criminal before, if you didn't count a bench warrant for unpaid speeding tickets, and he was beginning to think he wasn't cut out for it. All this, and somewhere out there an undead something was hunting for him, too. It didn't seem fair.

  "Streedy's so conspicuous," he whispered to Cumber. "Wouldn't it have been better if we walked?"

  "Yes, if you didn't mind arriving in the center of the City at sunset, after all the offices are closed. It's a long way, Theo." "Ssshhh! Don't use my name." He tried to smile at a chubby brownie woman sitting in one of the half-size seats, who was watching Streedy Nettle with disapproval. She sniffed and looked away. In an effort to get the runaway capacitor's attention, Theo took his hand; Streedy immediately calmed. That's just great, Theo thought. I'm going to have to literally hold his hand the whole time. The fairy's skin was warm and seemed almost to tingle, so that Theo felt like his own hand had gone to sleep. The little hairs on the back of his arm stirred as though charged with static electricity. Jesus, what if he electrocutes me or something? Can you get electrocuted by magic? He looked at the fairy's dazed face, thought about the charred wing-stubs he had seen when the young fairy took off his shirt to bathe, and decided that whether it was like being electrocuted or not, he really didn't want it to happen to him.

  Still, it was either hang onto Streedy's hand or have people stare at them. Theo hung on. The bus climbed through the Sunset district. The houses were small and boxy, but near the crest of the hill they were neat and well-cared-for, most of them painted in vibrant colors and topped — as if to make up for the similarity of their shapes — with highly individualized roofs. Some looked almost like pagodas, others like folktale castles in miniature, sprouting tiny conical towers like crayons sticking out of a box. A few children were out early, probably on their way to school, the younger ones accompanied by parents or even occasionally by one of the rainbow nanny-bubbles he had seen back in Penumbra Fields. If it were not for the coaches full of armed parliamentary constables cruising slowly up and down the streets — Theo had seen half a dozen so far — it would seem to be a fairly ordinary day in an ordinary and fairly prosperous working class neighborhood.

  The bus reached the top of the hill. Theo could see most of the City laid out before him like a patterned quilt, lumpy with hills where he was, sloping down toward the bright blue-green waters of Ys. Except for the strange shapes of the towers in the center of the City, gleaming in the morning sunlight, he could be looking down on any modern and attractive human city — Geneva, perhaps, or Sydney.

  "That's Rade Park where we went the first night we escaped," Cumber said quietly, pointing to a band of dark green shadow that cut across the middle of the Gloaming district like a cummerbund. It suddenly made Theo aware of how little vegetation there was in New Erewhon, as Dowd had named the place, how just as in one of the human cities it resembled, the fairy metropolis had subordinated trees to houses and factories. They really have done their best to imitate us, he thought as the bus bumped down a steep street and the city-vista disappeared again behind the nearer buildings.

  "Okay," he said, "I guess I understand why we're taking the bus. But if Coathook is helping us, how come he's not here too?"

  "Button said that a goblin traveling with three of us might attract attention. And apparently he also needs to arrive alone for whatever part he's going to play to work properly. He's taking another bus."

  Theo sighed. "You sound like you believe everything Button says already. Like you've joined Button's army for real."

  "Don't you believe him, Theo?"

  "What he says about what he means to do, sure. But that doesn't mean I believe my life is as important to him as it is to me, just for instance."

  "What do you mean?" Cumber looked around before leaning closer. "He thinks you're incredibly important! He's said so several times!" "Yes, but that's a politician talking — no, a general. He's important too, but he seems to be very casual about the possibility of some other goblins assassinating him for announcing his middle name in public or whatever that was he did." Now Theo was leaning close too, his lips almost touching Cumber's ear. "Look, Button's fighting a war. He expects there will be casualties, maybe including him. I don't care if I'm important to anyone else. I just don't want to be a casualty, especially the 'oops, we underestimated' kind. It's not even my war."

  "But it was Hellebore and his allies who've been trying to kill you." "And if I get my fingers around somebody's throat who deserves it, don't worry — I'll remember all that. But if I can get home and avoid the war altogether . . ." He shrugged, leaned back. "No offense, Cumber, but I don't feel like one of you and I don't really understand most of what goes on here, let alone care about it. I certainly don't want to die in a power struggle between rich fairy families."

>   "Most people don't risk their lives for power, Theo, even here. Most people do it to protect other people — people they care about." Theo did not have a reply to that, but even if he had, he was suddenly finding it hard to concentrate. He had been trying to pull free from Streedy's grip for several seconds without much luck: the fairy was clutching his hand very tightly. Hair rose on Theo's head and a strange prickly feeling had begun to throb up and down his spine.

  "Slow 'em down," Streedy's long face was full of panic but the calm voice coming from his mouth seemed to belong to someone else entirely. "Wave 'em over here to the side. I'll take the front, you take the back."

  "It's the constables, Theo." Cumber was clearly frightened. "They're all over these days. They're stopping us." As the bus slowed and pulled over to the side of the road, Theo realized that somehow Streedy had heard and repeated the communications between the two parliamentary constables who were about to board the bus. "What's my name supposed to be again? I can't remember!" he whispered to Cumber, but the ferisher was already sliding down the seat, putting a little distance between himself and his companions. Theo felt a burst of panicky resentment until he remembered Button's instructions. Cumber was a different kind of fairy: they would attract less attention if they didn't appear to be traveling together.

  "Bloody iron!" Cumber Sedge squeaked as the first constable got on at the front of the bus. Theo's heart pattered — Cumber almost never swore. "They've got a Black Dog!"

  Theo could only sit and watch as the constable worked his way down the bus, an ebony mastiff the size of a pony filling the aisle behind him. The dog was silent and made no overtly hostile moves, but the passengers on either side shrank away from it. Red eyes glowed like barbecue briquets as the huge animal padded silently after the constable. Even with sunlight streaming through the windows the creature reflected no light: but for that terrible stare, it was only a dog-shaped shadow.

  I have fairy blood , Theo told himself over and over. There's no reason it should notice anything wrong about me. But what if it smells fear? He stared at the shadowy head and decided that if it did smell fear, the dog must seldom smell anything else. He ransacked his mind for what he was supposed to say if they asked him questions, but it was horribly difficult to think with the mastiff slowly moving toward him, nose up and sniffing. Oh my God, he thought, what if Streedy starts babbling radio-speak again?

  A heavy hand fell on Cumber's shoulder and the ferisher jumped, which made Theo jump too. The other constable had come in through the back door of the bus and had reached them first.

  "Identify yourself." His voice was muffled by his helmet. The mirrored visor gave him the look of a man-sized hood ornament. "Your Truename card."

  Cumber fidgeted out the prismatic piece of shaved stone or whatever it was — Theo had never been able to figure it out — that Button had given him. The constable stared at it for a moment, flicked his eyes over Cumber, then handed it back. Theo had his in his hand already and passed it to the looming constable without being asked. "You're from out in Hazel Wand," the faceless man said to Theo. "What are you doing here?" He turned toward Streedy, who sat bobbing his head, eyes closed, locked in what Theo could only pray would remain a silent paroxysm of fear. "What's wrong with him? Where's his Truename?"

  Theo reached into Streedy's pocket. The capacitor whimpered at Theo's touch but allowed him to take out the forged credential and pass it to the constable. "He's my cousin," Theo said, trying to stay calm, struggling to remember what he was supposed to say. "He's a bit . . . touched. Hurt his head in a farm accident. I'm taking him into Elysium House to help him with his worker benefits."

  The other constable had arrived and blocked the aisle going forward. The dog was close enough now that Theo could almost have reached out and touched the matte-black muzzle — not that he planned to do any such thing. Other passengers on the bus were turning to watch, interested and also relieved that someone other than themselves had attracted the official attention.

  "And your name is . . . ?" It was a trick; the constable had already looked at his forged Truename card.

  "Stonecrop." Theo was so thrilled he'd remembered he almost let out a cheer. It was a country name, common as grass. "Jacky Stonecrop, that's me. And my cousin Paddy here's a Myrtle."

  The constable stared at him a long time, then exchanged a visored glance with his companion, who had let the dog's leash go slack. The animal moved a step closer, until it was leaning across terrified Cumber Sedge to sniff at Theo and Streedy, pulling in so much air that Theo could feel the breeze. The light in its eyes flickered like a torch behind thick glass. It was quite hypnotic . . .

  "I said, where are you staying in the City?" Theo shook his head, trying to reassemble his thoughts. "Pigwidgeon Acres. My uncle lives at the hostel there, but he's too frail now to go out with Paddy. That's why I came up to the City." They weren't leaving. He hazarded a bit of extemporizing. "Is it always like this? I heard there were some people tried to overthrow Parliament. Is that what all the fuss is?"

  The constables exchanged another mirrored glance, then the one who had been questioning Theo handed him back his card. "You're to be back in the hostel by sundown. And while you're at Elysium House, make sure you report your address. All non-residents have to go on the list. Otherwise you'll wind up visiting Lord Monkshood's cells, and that wouldn't make a very nice holiday for a country boy like you." He waited while his companion pulled back the Black Dog, then they all headed toward the front of the bus.

  Theo could not even talk for several minutes after the bus was moving again. Streedy Nettle appeared to be crying.

  ————— They wound slowly into the heart of the city, through Twilight and across the edge of the Gloaming district and into Eventide. Perhaps because of Theo's mood after their brush with the constables, the downtown districts seemed gray and cold despite the clear, fairly sunny skies. The streets were emptier than he remembered — on his trip to Hellebore House with Cumber and Zirus and Applecore this district had seemed to throb with life, even at night. That journey seemed years away, now, and not just because of what had happened since. Eventide's sidewalks were nearly empty, the fairy-folk waiting for buses huddled deep in their coats as though to avoid attention. The people who were walking hurried, and did not even seem to see the others who shared the sidewalks. Only a few of the fairy-light signs glowed. Theo shivered. He wished he had his leather jacket back instead of the flimsy fairy-garb he was wearing. Then again, his old jacket would have probably just made him more conspicuous, and he definitely didn't want that.

  As they rounded a corner into a canyon of tall buildings, Theo suddenly spotted the strange bulk of Hellebore House in the distance, its hundreds of windows like flyspecks on the curd-colored façade. He could not help staring at it, despite the disturbing sensation that the windows were shadowed eyes that watched him in turn. "They're all dark," he said. "It looks deserted."

  Cumber Sedge looked up and knew without asking what Theo was talking about. "Some kind of special shutters," he guessed. "They're at war, Theo. The whole City's at war."

  Streedy gave a little moan. The bus stopped on the corner of Hedgerow and Springfair. Almost all the passengers who had watched their interrogation with such interest were gone; no one even looked up as they made their way down the stairs and onto the street.

  "It's over there," Cumber said, pointing at a low, broad building at the far end of the block. "We've made pretty good time, all things considered, but we can't afford to dawdle."

  With Streedy between them, swiveling his head like some kind of mechanical toy, they walked toward Elysium House. They stopped in front of a mirrorcase store a few yards away from the entrance to review Button's instructions. The storefront behind them was filled with rows of display shelves full of gleaming mirrorcases where dozens of identical scenes flickered: serious faces in the Parliament of Blooms, shots of armored constables in the streets, and once a view of the smoking ruins of Daffodil House. Theo tu
rned away.

  ". . . So even when we see him, we don't go near him, understood?" Cumber was saying. "Got it. We pretend we don't know him." Theo looked to Streedy, who was staring up at the carved façade of Elysium House, his lips moving as though he prayed. "But I still don't understand what we're supposed to do in there."

  "Nothing." Cumber shook his head. "Well, not after we make the first application, as Button said. We're mostly here for Streedy, to help him get here, do what he needs to do, and then get home."

  "You mean he's going to know what to do by himself? And manage it without attracting attention? Look at him!"

  "Yes, but apparently he's done this before, or something like it. Now come on, Theo, before I lose my nerve." The great hall of Elysium House was a bizarrely perfect representation of a forest grove created entirely in multicolored stones and gems. The sky — in reality the interior of the dome — appeared to be a mosaic of pure lapis lazuli, big as a football field, with pearl clouds. The tree-columns had crusty bark in a variety of brown and silvery tones; one near the door rang like a chime when Theo rapped it with his knuckles. The fat-bellied redcap guard gave him a look of irritation and Theo quickly put his hands back in his pockets. Even the birds were picture-perfect creations with feathers of jade and alabaster and polished coral — but they did not move or sing. The dozens and dozens of fairy-folk who milled around the wide-open spaces were not singing either. They were filling out forms at the small carrels dotted about the massive chamber like flat mushrooms growing up out of the grass-patterned green tiles, or waiting in lines to speak to one of the row of Elysium House functionaries sealed behind glass like ambered flies. If he had seen this wide array of creatures a few weeks ago, when he was newly arrived, Theo would have been amazed by the woolly padfeet and tiny but dignified gnomes. Instead, he looked at them all with more familiar eyes now and saw just a group of sad and frightened people. For a moment, surrounded by petrified birds and diamond-hard flowers, Theo found himself nostalgic for places he had never seen, the original forests of Faerie that this stone grotto so carefully yet lifelessly imitated.