"Well, it was a nice try." The crocodile sighed, turning away.
"Probably sour children anyway." The alligator turned away, too.
"Well! Such audacity!" Cordelia exclaimed, jamming her fists onto her hips. "I'll have thee know I am quite mmfftfptl!" The last bit of pronunciation was occasioned by the clapping of Magnus's hand over her mouth as he hissed in her ear, "Wilt thou be still! The last we should wish would be to have them think thee sweet and tender!"
Cordelia gave him a murderous glare over the top of his wrist, but held her tongue.
"I'm gonna go hunt up some mud guppies," the crocodile grumped.
"Yeah." The alligator turned away. "Me for some crayfish."
"They'll do in a pinch," the croc agreed. "See you later, alligator."
"With a smile, crocodile."
They swam away, disappearing into the muddy waters of the river.
"Well! Praise Heaven we have survived that!" Cordelia watched the two reptiles depart, still miffed. "How dare they call me sour!"
"Thou wouldst not wish them to know thee better, sister," Magnus assured her.
"Come," said Gwen, "let us be on our way, and quickly—I do not wish to give them time to think again."
Chapter Six
They hadn't gone far, though, when Cordelia stopped, staring down at the grass. "What things are these?"
"Let me see!" Geoffrey jumped over to her, and Gregory twisted his way in between them. Gwen looked up, interested, and stepped over.
An insect was toiling its way through the long grass, but with such intensity of purpose that Geoffrey said, "Can it be a warrior bug?"
"Not properly a bug." Fess's great head hung over them. "It is truly a beetle, children. It is strange, though."
Rod looked up, alert. "In what way?"
"I had thought they were extinct."
"What?" asked Gregory.
"This particular variety of insect. It is a scarab, such as were represented in ancient Egyptian art."
"Here is another," Magnus called, ten feet away. "It doth move… why, toward Papa!"
"Toward me?" Rod looked down—and saw another scarab struggling through the grass. "Hey, I've got one, too! Only it's heading toward you!"
"Toward me?" Magnus stared.
Cordelia clapped her hands. "Belike they seek one another!"
"Nay," said Gwen. "They move toward the fairy ring."
They all looked up and saw, midway between Rod and Magnus, a flattened circle of grass—and in the center of it, a larger-than-average rock, thrumming away.
Rod frowned. "What's this? Are the Wee Folk helping out on rock distribution now?"
"Oh, nay!" Gwen said, with a mock glare at him. "Thou dost know the Wee Folk dance in circles, and leave rings behind them—but here all is flattened, not the circumference only!"
"What hath made it?" Gregory wondered.
"Perhaps the rock itself," Fess said slowly. He moved closer, being careful not to step on the scarab, and lowered his head toward the circle. "Yes, it is a small depression, a sort of natural bowl. If the rock landed with enough momentum, it might have rolled around and around the circle until…"
A scarab struggled out of the grass on the far side, teetered on the brink, and tumbled into the depression.
"Oh!" Cordelia clapped her hands. "There is a fourth!"
"Ours doth arrive now, too," Gregory noted.
Magnus came up to the bowl a step at a time, eyes on the ground. "Mine doth approach."
"Mine, too." Rod was only a step away from the rim. "They're all attracted to the rock."
"Even scarabs?" Gwen exclaimed.
Gregory was peering closely. "They are oddly colored, Mama—a slate gray. One would almost think they were, themselves, stone to the core." ' ~tT_
Rod frowned. "Then the question arises, were the beetles attracted by rock, or made by rock?"
"It is immaterial—they only seek their own kind," Fess pointed out. "But the question is academic. What is pertinent is that they are all moving toward the rock."
The four scarabs converged on the stone, reached out with their antennae, and all touched rock at the same moment—then, frozen, they glittered, glimmered, and all changed color.
"Why, they have become silver!" Cordelia stared.
"Hath the rock transformed them, then?" Geoffrey asked.
"Or have they transformed the rock!" Gregory pointed. -"Hark!"
The stone glistened, twinkled—and its music metamorphosed into lilting, soaring melody. At its bass, though, the beat went on.
"What wonder is this?" Gregory breathed.
Magnus frowned. "The stone is a thing of witch-moss— which is to say, it is imagination made concrete. Are these beetles also but things of whimsy?"
"Whatever their source, they have purpose!" Cordelia pointed. "See where they go!"
The four scarabs had joined together and turned away. With determination, they struggled out to reach the world.
Gregory leaped up. "We must follow them. Do not ask me why I know, but I do!"
"They trend west by south." Geoffrey pursued the scarabs attentively.
"Cordelia," Gwen said, "leave off thy dancing, and follow."
"They have touched another rock!" Geoffrey cried.
Lilting music ascended.
"They toil onward!" Magnus kept pace, following the silver scarabs with avid interest.
Behind them, the first rock split with a gunshot crack.
"Duck!" Rod shouted, and his offspring hit the ground. The stone sailed over their heads. Almost instantly, more of the lilting music rose.
"It hath conveyed its strains to other rocks," Magnus murmured.
But Rod was rising, looking toward the northwest. "Its better half is making music, too."
Cordelia said, incensed, "Why dost thou say 'better'? What music could be more melodious than this?"
"The stuff its brother is making." Rod went after the other rock. He stood a moment, listening, then said, "Its music is richer, fuller."
"Let me see." Gwen came over, then lifted her head, amazed. "Why, it is—and there is summat of an under-song with it!"
"More and more!" Magnus called from farther across the meadow. "They leave a broadening swath of music behind them!"
"Leave them be, and come this way!" Rod called. "Whatever they're doing, it can't be as important as the progress this rock is making!"
Cordelia clouded up, chin firming. "Nay! I will not leave them! I will follow wheresoe'er they go!"
Rod spun to her, taken aback by her sudden rebellion.
"There is much of interest in them, Papa," Magnus said, stepping into the breach. "Whatsoe'er hath seized this land, these scarabs may well spread to encompass all."
"They are important," Gregory asserted, staring intently up at his father. "We must follow them, Papa!"
Geoffrey said nothing; he only had eyes for the silver scarabs.
Rod reddened, anger rising. He was alarmed at his own emotion and strove to hold it down; but he also felt righteous indignation at his children's refusal to obey.
Gwen touched his arm, murmuring, "It is time to let them go awhile."
Rod stilled.
Fess said, "It is not as though they have never been apart from you."
Rod found his voice—without shouting. "Yes, but they didn't exactly get high marks for obedience that time."
"Mayhap they did not," Gwen said, "but the Crown might have toppled without their meddling."
Rod stood still.
"I kept them safe," Fess murmured, "though I will admit the margin of safety was narrow at times."
Rod lifted his eyes, gazing at his eldest two over a widening gap. For a moment, he was afraid to let them drift away—but he knew Gwen was right. "Okay. You kids follow the scarabs, and we'll follow the rock's progress."
Cordelia relaxed, beaming. "Oh, Papa!"
"But you'll stay together!"
"Oh, aye!"
"I shall not let them str
ay from my sight," Magnus promised.
"I'll hold you to it." Rod looked up at Fess. "You'll make sure they stay safe?"
"Certainly, Rod."
Cordelia looked disappointed, but Gregory cried, "Oh, good! Fess will be by us!" and Geoffrey cheered.
"All right, then." Rod turned away. "You'll take the low road, and we'll take the high." He managed a smile as he turned back to wave. "Be careful, huh?"
"Oh, aye, Papa!"
"Godspeed, Mama!"
"God be with you!"
"God be," was all Geoffrey managed, before he was off trailing his quarry.
Rod sighed and turned away. "Hope we're making the right decision."
"Be assured, husband." Gwen clasped his arm. "If aught miscarries, we can be with them right swiftly."
"Yes—and Fess can call even if they don't want to." Rod nodded. "Okay, darling. I'll try not to worry."
At their feet, the stone cracked with the sound of a gunshot, and its pieces went flying.
"Follow the northern shard," Gwen suggested.
Rod nodded, and off they went after the progressive rock.
Chapter Seven
As they moved after the scarabs, Magnus asked his sister, "I ken how that music did fascinate those children—yet how can it have gained so thorough a hold on thee?"
"Thou canst not know till thou hast begun to dance to it." Cordelia shuddered. "Do not ask, brother—but when thou hast begun to move thine whole body to its rhythms willingly, it doth seem quite natural to continue."
" Tis a foul twisting of all that's right in the use of one's body," Geoffrey said, disgusted. "Thy limbs should ever move with purpose, one set forth by thy mind and made effective by practice; they should not twitch to some sound that doth but pass by thy brain."
" 'Tis horrid to see children so young become victim to it." Magnus had to clasp his dagger to keep his hand from trembling. "I might credit it in one of mine own age, though I would still deplore it. Yet in children!"
"Aye, grandfather of seventeen," Cordelia said, with full sarcasm. After all, she was almost as tall as he, at the moment.
But Gregory said only, "How can mere music have absorbed them so completely?"
"How can it have become so much louder?" Geoffrey retorted. "I can comprehend how it can induce bodies to move, for I do feel mine own limbs respond to the beat of the music, almost as to mine heartbeat…"
"Thine heartbeat! Thou hast it!"
"Why, I should hope I do, else would I be dead." Geoffrey frowned. "How is this, little brother?"
"Thy body is accustomed to doing all to the beat of thine heart! In truth, dost thou not gauge the strength of thy feelings by its speed? Thus when the music doth pulse, thy limbs do respond!"
"A most excellent notion, brother," Magnus agreed. "Yet the music's beat is not my heart's—unless it should by some happenstance beat with a very odd rhythm."
"Such as a comely lass passing near," Cordelia said sweetly.
Magnus gave her a dark look, but Gregory said, "Ah, but 'tis therefore that thy limbs do move to the music! For an 'twere but thine heartbeat, look you, thy limbs would be as much in accord as they ever were!"
"Gregory may have a point," Fess said slowly. "There are certain natural rhythms to the body's functions; the heartbeat is only one of them. And, as Geoffrey points out, once the music becomes too loud to truly ignore, the body naturally tends to respond."
"I wot no physician would countenance such a notion," Magnus muttered.
"Yes, but I am not a physician," Fess noted. "And I must stress, Magnus, that the idea we are discussing is only conjecture at the moment; it is not yet sufficently detailed to even be termed an hypothesis."
"Yet what hath made the music so much louder?" Geoffrey demanded.
"Why, the grown folk, brother," Cordelia explained. "When they threw so many stones together, there was more music in one place!"
"That would suffice for that one field, sister," Geoffrey answered, "yet it doth not explain the greater loudness all around us."
Cordelia stopped, casting about her. "Why, it hath grown! I do hear it all round! How is't I had not noticed that sooner, Fess?"
The robot started to reply, but a sudden cry belted from farther down the woodland path, around the bend. "Ho!" followed by a "Ha!" all in the woodwind timbre of adolescent boys' voices, repeating and repeating. "Ho! Ha! Ho! Ha!" Then, above their rhythm, came girls' voices, chanting:
I sought for love, and love sought me, And found me there beneath a tree. Touch and kiss and soft caress Taught me of sweet love's duress.
Loving whispers, sweet love's moan. Say I'll never be alone. Lip to lip, and heart to heart, Seek to cling, and never part!
"What manner of song is that?" Geoffrey asked, goggle-eyed.
Cordelia's nose wrinkled. "Oh! 'Tis vile! Is love naught but the press of bodies?"
"Yet who doth sing it?" Magnus asked, frowning.
Round the bend of the path they came, a chain of thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds, linked by clasped hands, their feet stamping out the pattern of a dance, their bodies and heads tossing in time to the music.
The Gallowglasses stared, astounded.
"What comes?" Geoffrey demanded.
Then the line of youths and maidens was upon them, twining them into their cordon as the Gallowglasses lurched staggering from one to another.
"Oh, come, or thou wilt never stand," a pretty maiden said, laughing. "Thou must dance or fall!"
"Must I truly?" Magnus muttered.
"I do not wish to dance!" Geoffrey snapped.
"Then leap aside," a hulking boy behind him retorted lightly. "Yet what ails thee, that thou dost not wish to step?"
"What ails thee, that thou dost wish it?"
But the boy didn't even seem to hear him; he had turned his head to gaze into the eyes of the girl behind him.
"What manner of music is this, that doth order thy feet?" Gregory gasped, hurrying to keep up.
"Why, 'tis our music!" the girl next to him answered. "Its strains are woven solely for folk of our age!"
"Canst thou not control thine own feet?"
"Wherefore?" The girl laughed. "I do love what they do!"
"Brace thyself against it!" Cordelia enjoined her. "Thou must needs be thine own master!"
The girl looked at her as though she were some sort of monster. "What manner of lass art thou, to not wish another to guide thee?"
"Mine own! A lass who will not be a chattel! Dost thou not see this throbbing sound doth rob thee of thy self?"
"Nay! How could it?" said another girl, also laughing. " 'Tis but entertainment!"
"Who hath told thee that?" Cordelia demanded furiously.
"Why, the very rocks do cry it!"
"The throbbing of it is wondrous!" a third girl said, eyes glowing. "It doth beat within thy blood; it doth set thy whole body to humming!"
Cordelia's eyes widened in horror. "Assuredly thou dost not believe the foul lie its words do sing!"
The first girl frowned at her. "What lie is that?"
"There is no lie in them, but truth!" said another girl farther down the line. She was a little taller than the others, buxom, and very pretty. She smiled at Magnus, eyelids drooping. "Dost thou not hear the wonder of them? Love!"
Magnus's eyes were fixed on her, fascinated, but he mustered the strength to answer, " 'Tis not love those words do speak of, but the hot, unbridled passion of the body's lust."
"What difference?" the girl asked, puzzled. Then she smiled again and leaned backward, and her lips seemed to grow fuller as her face swayed close to Magnus's. "Wherefore dost thou not dance? Doth not our company please thee?"
"Nay," Magnus managed, but he knew he lied.
She knew it, too. "My name is Lalaina. Wilt thou not tread the measure with us?"
"There is no measure, nor no rule, in that which thou dost seek." But Magnus's feet began to fall into step with hers, and his gaze was riveted to her face.
"
Wherefore should there be?" Lalaina breathed. "We are young, in the season of joy! An we do not take our pleasures now, when shall we?"
"Dance," the boy behind him commanded, "or step aside! For we would raise the boughs with our singing, and thou dost bind us to the earth!"
"Canst thou not dance?" jeered another boy, Magnus's own size.
"Thou canst not be our friend an thou dost not tread the welkin with us," said a third, grinning.
Lalaina swayed a little further back, and let her lips brush Magnus's. He jolted to a stop, electrified, and the dancers rocked to a halt with him. All stood watching him, lips smiling, holding their breaths, poised…
Then Cordelia screeched. "Thou hussies! Thou vile, grasping liliths! Wouldst thou then drag him down with thee?"
"Aye," answered one tall girl, "with all my heart."
"And body." Lalaina gazed deeply into Magnus's eyes.
"He cannot wish to dance with them," Geoffrey cried, appalled.
"He doth hang in the balance." Gregory twisted away from the girl holding his hand and dove toward his big brother. "Magnus! Wake thee! They do weave a spell, they do enchant thee!"
"Why, 'tis no enchantment," a boy scoffed. "Tis but entertainment."
"Thou heartless wretches!" Cordelia stormed. "Dost thou think a woman's naught but a plaything?"
"Believe them not!" Gregory shouted to Magnus. "They do seek to ensorcel thee, to draw thee into the selfsame maelstrom of droning and stamping as they are caught in!"
"Give in to it," a boy coaxed. "Thou wilt not believe the pleasure of it, the heady giddy feeling!"
"Hold fast!" Gregory reached up to thump his big brother's arm. "Thou art thine own man, not some mindless puppet!"
"The music is great, the music is all!" another boy countered. "Submerge thyself in it; let it roll over thee! Then reach to find another's hand, to touch, to stroke!"
"Thou knowest right from wrong!" Gregory insisted. "Thou hast so often told me of it! 'Tis wrong, thou didst say, to let another think for thee! How much more wrong must it be, then, to let mere music make thee mindless?"
"Aye." Magnus's face hardened and, with a huge effort, he squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and turned away from Lalaina. "I am my own man still."
"Then thou art not ours!" the hulking youth cried. "Avaunt thee! Get thee hence!"
The Warlock Rock Page 6