The Feast of the Trickster

by Beth Hilgartner

  The shapeshifter was unprepared for 'Tsan's answering wave of terror. Awash in a torrent of fragmented thoughts, Ychass clung to her own identity, to avoid being swept into madness. I am Ychass! she insisted, driving her message into 'Tsan's brain. I am no enemy, but your friend: Ychass! You named me, 'Tsan; you cannot repudiate me!

  I do not—cannot—I don't know you—you aren't—here— you can't be—can't—mustn't—madness—I'm over the edge! Hearing voices—no! There's no Ychass—you never were—no—I made you up—a dream—a nightmare—no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NOOOO!

  Ychass had to break contact. She cradled her pounding head in her hands. Suddenly, she felt the touch of Iobeh's hands, heard her silent question.

  "Go back to sleep," Ychass told her. "I'm all right."

  Iobeh touched the shapeshifter's face, capturing a tear on her finger. You're weeping, she thought.

  "Yes, I am. Go back to sleep." There was nothing rough in her tone, just sadness and deep weariness. Iobeh studied her face for a moment longer, then with a small sigh, went back to her bedroll. The shapeshifter stayed awake, and for a long time, the moonlight silvered her tears.

  TEN

  Alexandra had given up sleeping. Her dreams had become too vivid. After her hallucination in the bathroom, she had covered every mirror; she closed her blinds, to avoid reflections in nightdarkened windows. There had been no more visions, but all day, a voice whispered in her mind, though she had tried to shut it out. The voice tugged at her memory like that nagging feeling when one has forgotten something really crucial.

  The night was bad. Her body pleaded for sleep, but she could not relax. As soon as she let down her guard, the voice began: clearer now, claiming to be Ychass, one of the people from her delusion. She fought the voice in her mind, fought her own panic, fought sleep. And when dawn came, she dressed and went to breakfast, determined to pretend that nothing was wrong.

  Despite her intentions, however, she couldn't help looking over her shoulder periodically; and she inspected her dishes in the dining hall.

  ***

  Though even Angel managed to goad her parents into getting her to the stable earlier than usual the next morning, the three kids were not able to make an early start. Kelly was in one of her efficient moods. Before they'd even said good morning, she had given them a long list of chores. Though they set to with a will and a sense of urgency, it was nearly noon before they were ready to start tacking up their horses. While they were all diligently currying, Brigid Chandler walked in.

  "Hi, guys," she greeted them. "What are you up to?"

  "Trail ride," Mark responded. "Want to come along?"

  Brigid considered then nodded. "Why not? The worst that can happen is that Rex and I will start a stampede." As she went off to get her horse, Angel gave an emphatic thumbs-up.

  "But what are we going to tell her?" Brice whispered.

  "Why don't we let them explain—and then tell Brigid we plan to say they're her cousins." Brice wrinkled his nose. "If you have a better idea," Angel snapped, "I'd love to hear it."

  Further debate was cut off as Brigid returned with her horse. "Don't forget halters and picket lines," Mark reminded, slightly officious.

  Brigid fell in with their plans, and soon, they were off. Not daring to hurry, they threaded their way through the maze of tracks and old roads with carefully feigned nonchalance. When their meandering progress led them past the Blocktower, Angel suggested they make their picnic on the hill. As they dismounted, the shapeshifter emerged from the tower and joined them. Brigid eyed her with surprise.

  "We brought a friend who may be able to help," Angel explained to Ychass. "Brigid, this is Ychass. She and her friends need our help—but I'll let them explain while we eat."

  There was food enough for an army. The Five investigated the unfamiliar food, then helped themselves. Angel couldn't believe the transformation the clothing wrought on her aliens. They looked normal—except Vihena, whose sword rested on her blue-jeaned knees. Not only was the weapon incongruous, but Vihena, unveiled, was beautiful. Her pallor and the shadows under her eyes only made her beauty more striking. She looked remarkably well for someone with a bullet hole in her. While Angel gawked, Mark made introductions. Brigid repeated each of their names as she looked around the circle; her eyebrows rose. Then she said, with enviable calm, "So what's this all about?"

  Remarr answered. "We were sent to this place from a different world, to perform a quest set by the gods: to seek a companion who is lost in this place. The fate of our world depends upon our finding her. We need your help; we are strangers and we understand neither your customs nor your people."

  Brigid laughed. "What kind of a put-on is this?"

  Ychass spoke then. "We speak the truth. We are from a different world. If you need proof, I can give it to you."

  Brigid laughed again, though with a note of unease. "Try me," she suggested.

  Ychass's form blurred and shifted. In her place stood a beautiful gray mare that watched them with pale, intelligent eyes. Brigid clenched one hand. "Holy God," she whispered. Then, the horse disappeared; Ychass sat back down on the blanket.

  Silence stretched. Iobeh fidgeted, but the others remained motionless. "You said you needed help," Brigid managed to gasp at last. "What sort of help?"

  Remarr explained their quest in more detail, and told the tale of yesterday's misadventures. Brigid frowned. "If you can't be any more specific about your friend's whereabouts, I'm not sure what use we'll be. There are a lot of people in this country and—" She broke off suddenly. "Wait a minute. Scarsdale. I wonder if your Alexandra is any relation to the author—you know, Alister Scarsdale: Meeker Street and so on. He had a daughter; there was some scandal about her when he died. You could check it out."

  "You could check it out," Angel insisted. "You're the one who works in a library."

  "I'm not sure I want to get involved," Brigid began, but Angel and Brice overrode her.

  "You have to! We need you!" Angel asserted.

  "C'mon, Brigid; it'll be exciting. And they need us—after last night, they can hardly go to the state police for help."

  Mark met Brigid's eyes. "Desperately seeking Alexandra Scarsdale. Mostly, we need to camouflage Angel's aliens until we can complete a phone book search or a Personals ad campaign."

  "How did you ever get talked into this?" Brigid asked him.

  He smiled ruefully. "I'm not sure—just like you did."

  "But I haven't said—" She made a last ditch effort.

  "C'mon, Brigid," Mark wheedled. "It'll be fun."

  "I have the sense of impending disaster," she remarked, shaking her head as though amazed at herself, "but all right."

  "Yay!" Angel crowed. "We really do need you. Camouflage: we figured you had some European cousins—or something."

  Brigid considered. "As in, here for a visit? Oh, Lord. Anything's possible—but not cousins. They don't look enough alike to be all from the same family, and if we have more than one branch of European cousins visiting at once, it'll look odd—even for Chandlers. Besides, my parents keep up on our family tree; they'd be suspicious of a horde of unknown relatives. But we can probably get away with European friends. My European friends—I have lots of them, and my parents haven't met them all."

  "Good point," Mark affirmed. "So friends it is. The next hurdle is where they will stay. They can't stay here: it's pure luck that the troopers haven't been back already. Can they camp in your apartment, Brigid?"

  "It's a one bedroom apartment with a dinky living room," Brigid reminded him.

  "We can lend you sleeping bags. Besides, I can probably get Mom to say a few of them can stay with us—as a special treat after it's clear how much we like each other, and all that. But to make that work, she'll have to see them all a few times at the barn first; then I can spend a week talking about how neat they are to prepare her for the big request. I'm pretty sure I can talk her into it." He made a quick assessment of the Five. "Maybe Iobeh and Karivet." />
  "I have the perfect solution," Brigid admitted. "My parents are away and I'm keeping an eye on the farm for them. There's plenty of room. You could use the truck. . ." She broke off. "I don't suppose any of you drive?"

  "You mean a magic cart?" Remarr asked. "Does it not require special powers to guide them?"

  "Just practice," said Brice, "and you have to be old enough to get a license."

  Angel cut in on the discussion. "Look, you guys. We're pushing our luck. Someone could come looking for you any minute. We should take you down to Chandlers' right now. Brigid can check in on you later, and we'll figure out what to do next."

  Brigid sighed. "Okay. Let's do it before I lose my nerve."

  Iobeh and Ychass cleaned up the remains of lunch while Remarr and Karivet broke camp. Vihena chafed at her inactivity, while the others tended their horses. In short order, they were ready to leave. "I'll take someone up with me," Angel offered.

  Iobeh clambered on behind Angel. Karivet rode with Brigid, and Ychass turned into the gray mare again to carry Remarr and Vihena. The group set out at a sedate pace through the woods.

  The Chandlers' place was a brick farmhouse with a big screened porch. It was on the end of a town road, with the nearest neighbor half a mile away. The troupe waited in the yard until Brigid had located the spare key and unlocked the door.

  "Come on in," she called. "I'll show you around."

  Vihena was particularly impressed with running water, and Brigid had to explain the operation of the stove and the function of the refrigerator more than once. Finally, she left them to settle into their new surroundings.

  "I told them I'd be back later this afternoon to feed the ponies," she told Angel, Brice, and Mark, "and that I'd see how they were getting along. Tomorrow morning, I can bring them all up to the barn with me so we can discuss what to do next. I'm taking the day off to get Rex ready for Vershire, so I'm coming out to the stable anyway. God, I hope they don't burn the place down. Mother would strangle me."

  Vihena watched from the window as the four riders left the yard. She turned back to the others with a wry smile. "They make unlikely rescuers, even after last night. Now, let's explore this place more thoroughly, before my strength gives out."

  They began in the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, puzzling out purposes for the strange utensils they found. From there they moved to the living room. Iobeh fingered the plush upholstery on the sofa, while Remarr investigated an oddly shaped piece of wooden furniture that resembled a cross between a table and a box that was trying to be triangular. It had a row of black and white teeth on one side of it, which Remarr touched gingerly. He jumped at the faint chiming noise, then struck the note again, with more force. A moment later, he was sitting on the bench, experimenting with scales and chords. Iobeh shared a rueful look with her twin.

  We've lost Remarr, she signed. Shall we leave him to it?

  They went through the dining room and the hall and up to the master bedroom. While Karivet examined the woodworking in the furniture and Iobeh and Ychass discovered closets, Vihena fiddled with a peculiar box with a dark crystal face on one side. There were a number of small knobs and buttons. Greatly daring, Vihena twisted one. She leaped back in alarm as light bloomed in the depths of the crystal face, accompanied by a shred of music and a voice. When the image steadied, she stared at small people. Though unnerved, Vihena forced herself to approach the box and again twist the knob. There was a sharp click and the images vanished. There were several other bedrooms, a bathroom, and a room full of paper clutter dominated by a heavy oak desk. It reminded Vihena of her father's office. She restrained an impulse to rummage through drawers by imagining her father's reaction to a trespasser in his private domain.

  When they had finished exploring, each of them spent some time unpacking their things in the rooms Brigid had described as guest rooms. When Remarr tore himself away from the instrument, he listened with interest to Vihena's description of her encounter with the magic box. Remarr was all for conducting experiments of his own, but before he could get started, they were interrupted by the purring roar of a magic cart. Suddenly, its noise was stilled, one of its wing-like doors extruded from its sleek, black side—and Brigid Chandler climbed out. Iobeh and Karivet exchanged relieved looks. It was not the trooper returning.

  Brigid greeted them and set a large brown paper sack on the kitchen counter. "I brought some food," she said. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved." She unloaded the sack: meats, vegetables, fruit, all encased in a strange, clear skin. Ychass fingered the covering on the steaks doubtfully.

  "You eat meat, don't you?" Brigid asked anxiously, noting the shapeshifter's distaste.

  Ychass nodded, then pinched a piece of the clear skin between two fingers. "But what is this skin? I've never seen its like."

  Brigid's expression cleared. "Oh, that's plastic," she explained, then, with the air of a field commander, deployed her troops and prepared supper. As soon as the meal was ready, they gathered at the table.

  "Tell me," Brigid began. "Why—exactly—are you looking for this Alexandra Scarsdale? And why do you think she'll agree to go back with you?"

  Somewhat to Brigid's surprise, it was Karivet who answered her. “'Tsan came to us from a far place at a time when my people had great need for a leader. She was drawn into our world by the power of the Weaver to champion our cause. She took my sister and me to meet with Vihena's people, and when it became clear that even that would not be enough, she led us on a quest to ask the gods to intercede on our behalf. We faced many difficulties and dangers together. 'Tsan grew into her destiny; I believe it was the first time she ever found people with whom she felt she belonged. When our quest was ended, 'Tsan was reft from the Loom against her will. We all believe that she would have stayed had it not been for the Trickster's cruelty.

  "But there is more at stake. When the Trickster flung her back to this world, 'Tsan's thread was torn from the Loom of Fate, weakening the very fabric of reality. The gods believe that we must bring 'Tsan back to strengthen the Loom and to prevent the end, the unraveling, of our whole world.

  "We do not pretend to know 'Tsan's mind, but I have the gift of prophecy, and have learned that she is tormented by fear and stalked by madness. She has done too much for my people and our world for her to be left desolate; and I think that she would not wish to see our world fall into darkness."

  Brigid tried in vain to imagine the sort of responsibility that went along with being chosen by some gods to save a world. And she tried to imagine having to choose between her world, with all its uncertainties and problems, and some primitive culture. Brigid's imagination boggled. It didn't sound as though this 'Tsan faced an easy choice—or an easy life, whatever she decided. Brigid couldn't envy her being the chosen savior; she would feel the weight of the gods' trust as a tremendous imposition. Her own culture taught that humans were masters of their destiny and not servants of it. Brigid noticed Ychass studying her intently, and with a mental shrug, she went back to her meal.

  "What will happen tomorrow?" Remarr asked. "How will we begin our search?"

  "Well, we'll check phone books first. Brice—"

  "Wait," Vihena said. "What is a 'phone book'?"

  "Sorry! It's a book that lists lots and lots of people's names and tells you where they live and how to reach them by telephone." At their blank looks, Brigid tried to clarify. "The telephone is my people's way of communicating over a long distance. Anyway, Brice is going to bring as many phone books as he can find to the stable and during the day, tomorrow, you can take turns looking for Alexandra in them." They were uncomprehending. She fetched a phone book and handed it to Vihena. "This is the book for this area: Montpelier, Plainfield—all the towns around here. The names are listed alphabetically, by surname, so look for Scarsdale." As Vihena flipped the book open and stared at it blankly, alarm dawned in Brigid's eyes. "Can't you read?"

  Vihena pushed the book back into Brigid's hands. "We have no use for books in
the desert."

  Brigid looked around the table. "Oh, Lord," she muttered, reading their expressions. "Wait'll I tell that to Angel."

  Brigid left them after dinner, reminding them that tomorrow morning, she would take them to the stable. "Vihena," she said, "please leave your sword behind. You've seen what kind of trouble it can get you into. People don't use swords here." Recognizing rebellion in the beautiful young woman's face, Brigid softened her request. "Perhaps you could leave it in the truck while we're at the stable, so it would be close to hand but won't cause questions." She didn't wait for Vihena's response, but headed for the door. "See you tomorrow."

  After she had gone, Vihena sighed irritably. "I'm surprised she didn't tell you to leave your harp behind," she said to Remarr. "Interfering woman."

  Remarr shrugged. "Perhaps a harp is easier to explain." He turned to the shapeshifter. "What did you think of her, Ychass?"

  Ychass considered. "There are shadows in her mind."

  "Do you mean duplicity?" Remarr asked.

  "No, not betrayal; but fears, worries I don't understand. I sensed the like in 'Tsan, on occasion." She debated sharing the gist of her contact with 'Tsan with the others but decided against it; it would alarm them, and it might simply be a snare of the Trickster. "I think," she went on, "that Brigid will make a good ally. She hides her fears well. And I cannot blame her for being afraid; we threaten beliefs she has held since childhood. But she is curious and even eager to help us—if only to see what will happen."

  Is that all we are to them? Iobeh signed. An amusing diversion? Don't they understand the importance of our quest?

  Ychass smiled sadly at her young friend. "I don't think we seem very real to them."