Ornery thought about it. Her sister lived not far from the Temple district, which was just a few blocks west of the river, but it was late to drop in on her. "I'll help you unload and sleep aboard, if you've no objection, Captain, then I'll go on to my sister's place in the morning."
So it was agreed between them. The boat thrust itself upstream past a tanner's yard and a printing house—both identifiable by the smell—then for a brief stop at the post wharf. Then onward once more, past a lumber yard and a dyers yard and a clutter of old houses, then past a tall wall with two odd little towers at its corners and the remains of a rotted wharf at its center, and finally beneath the high central arch of Brewers Bridge to the pier beyond, where, with much shouting and maneuvering, the captain, Ornery, the deckhand and the stoker brought themselves tight against the timber pier built out from the edge of the stony trough in which the river ran. It seemed too quiet. Ornery stared all around, finding no reason for the silence, which was soon broken in any case, when people came with carts from House Genevois and from the breweries. They unloaded by torchlight, the carts departed, and the strange silence returned. Later that night, as Ornery spread her blankets on the deck she heard a scurrying, like small animals moving, and she looked up to see a skulk of shadows vanishing along the river path in a lengthy stream, like a migration. It was too dark to see who they were, though Ornery thought them too small for mankind, and they had been in a most dreadful hurry. She resolved to tell someone about it tomorrow, perhaps, if it seemed important.
33—Marool Mantdby and the *** p198
That same evening, which was a few days after Marool Mantelby returned from her trip into the mountains, Marool made a visit to the Temple of the Hagions, most particularly the office of the High Crones, where she was assured a polite welcome by virtue of her frequent and generous gifts to the Temple. She met with women who knew her better, perhaps, than she supposed: D'Jevier and On-sofruct Passenger, who remembered the fourteen-year-old Marool well, though Marool had been too preoccupied at that time to remember anyone.
"Revered Hags," Marool announced as she entered the throne room cum office. "Thank you for seeing me."
D'Jevier and Onsofruct had changed little in the almost twenty years since Marool had come to the Temple to find the Hagion Morrigan. The two Hags had never mentioned that incident to anyone except one another, preferring to forget it as nearly as possible. Over the years, both had cultivated the impersonal manner and voice suitable for use in Temple when emotion was inappropriate, and it was this voice D'Jevier used to greet Marool.
"You are welcome, Marool. Is there something needful?"
Marool shook her head as she took the seat she was offered, then sat there with her lips pursed out in uncharacteristic uncertainty. Her hostesses did not encourage her, but merely waited, as though she could tell them nothing that would surprise them.
"I have been into the hills," said Marool, at last. "I went to look at the place where my parents and sister died."
"Ah," murmured Onsofruct. "You had a natural curiosity."
Marool shook her head with an annoyed expression. "It wasn't that! It's as though something about their deaths has been nagging at me for years. I wanted to see for myself. However ... " She went on to describe her own experience, and that of her driver and Man of Business. "I suppose their bodies are there still," she concluded. "The guard reported what happened to the guard post, but I've heard nothing more about it."
D'Jevier cast a glance at her sister, which Onsofruct returned, furrowing her brow and clenching her jaw before replying, "We have all heard stories of Wilderneers and monsters. Such are common tellings during the Long Nights."
"You mentioned picking up something, some artifact?" D'Jevier queried.
"I have it here," said Marool, taking a packet from her bag, laying it upon the table and unrolling it. As she did so, a stench spread throughout the room, and both the Hags caught their breaths.
"You smell it?" demanded Marool, looking at their faces.
Both nodded. D'Jevier held her breath and took the article into her hands, keeping a layer of the wrapping between it and her skin.
"It looks more organic than manufactured," said Marool. "Like a giant fingernail. That shape, at any rate, though far too huge. The bottom is ragged, as though it had been ripped away ... "
D'Jevier rewrapped the article, obviously troubled. "It's a scale," she said. "From some sort of squamous creature."
"It would have to be enormous!" said Onsofruct, her eyes wide.
D'Jevier grated, "I have no doubt it is. We are only now growing numerous enough that we can explore the wilderness in any systematic way, and as we do so, we hear more frequent tales about things or beings in the badlands. Did you see any kind of trail while you were there? As though something very large had been dragged along, pushing up the dirt at the sides?"
Marool nodded, though unwillingly, for she had thought to do all the enlightening herself. "I did, yes. Both an old trail and a newer one. So new that nothing was growing on it."
D'Jevier went on, "We have had reports of such in the hills to the west. As though a very large serpent had crawled there, though the paths are straight or angular, not sinous. The witnesses are sober persons whose word I am inclined to accept, and there have been too many disappearances of livestock for peace of mind."
"Then you have already planned a course of action," said Marool.
The thin woman shook her head, her lips twisted into an unpleasant knot, as though she tasted something foul that she could not spit out. "Yes, and no. Reason would dictate that we enquire among the Timmys, who presumably once occupied that wilderness, whose relatives may do so still, and would therefore know what creatures are there. At this juncture, however, we cannot do so."
Marool felt a strange frisson at this mention of the invisible people, a surprise reaction, though she knew that no subject was forbidden to the Hags when in Temple, albeit only there.
Onsofruct murmured, "We have been advised the Questioner is on her way. This is not a time we would have picked for the Council's Hound to come sniffing among us, but the Hound does not sniff at our convenience."
Marool furrowed her forehead, trying to remember what she had learned about the Questioner. "The visit constrains us?"
Onsofruct snorted, "Rather more than merely constrains."
"What more?"
D'Jevier's lips curved into a wry smile. "There were no Timmys here when we came, Marool. We forget this from time to time, but it is true. There were not on the surface of this planet any race of intelligent beings nor was there any mention of such in the records of the first settlement. The planetary assessment was rigorous before we came, searching for those monsters reputed to have wiped out the first colony. If Timmys had been here, the assessment would have picked them up, anywhere upon the surface of this planet.
"They weren't here. Had they been here, we would not have been allowed to settle. Some years later, suddenly here they were. By that time, we had so much invested in this world that we chose to pretend we hadn't seen them, difficult as that was, for the creatures were pertinacious. Though it may have been a stupid decision—indeed, in hindsight, was a stupid decision—we, the Hags, decided not to report their existence to the Council of Worlds, as that would have led to our immediate evacuation from Newholme."
Marool frowned at the implications of this. Had she known about this matter? Had she ever considered this?
D'Jevier went on: "Years went by, and we still didn't report it. The Timmys grew more numerous. At the same time, because of the ... ah ... unexpected sexual imbalance on this world, our population was growing far too slowly to do all the things our settlement plans had set forth. Suddenly, there were the Timmys, doing this little job and that little job, almost as though they had read our minds. One had only to utter and the task was done. Before we quite knew how it happened, the Timmys had become the better part of our workforce."
Onsofruct snorted. "And our for
emothers didn't report that, either! Even a generation later we could have reported. Needless to say, we didn't. We have committed a very grave offense in not reporting the existence of an intelligent and speaking race. This will not be to our credit."
D'Jevier nodded agreement. "The Questioner, who takes the matter of indigenous races very seriously, will not excuse these omissions if it finds out about the Timmys."
Marool shifted on her chair, frowning. "But why does the Questioner's visit prohibit our asking the Timmys now about the wilderness?"
"We cannot take time to pursue the linguistic matter, since the Timmys are even now being banished."
"Banished?" Marool was dumbfounded. "What do you mean, banished?"
"Sent away, into the mountains. The Questioner and her people aren't blind! The Timmys must not be visible when the Questioner arrives."
"But they do half the work in the city! On the farms! Everywhere!"
"Obviously they do," D'Jevier replied. "But someone else will have to do that half! We've decided to make up the lack through press gangs. There are a good many supernumeraries who are underemployed, if they are employed at all. And then, the Consort Houses are full of young men who can be used, at least temporarily."
Onsofruct asked in a suspiciously casual voice, "Do you use Timmys on your estate, Marool?"
"I do," she said, rather angrily. "Though not in the house. There I prefer human servants, but I let the steward use them in the gardens, the fields, and in the stables."
The two Hags bowed and glanced at one another again, each thinking that few persons had the unlimited wealth of a Mantelby with which to hire human servants. Or the unlimited number of nephews needing work.
"Then except for the stables and gardens, your mansion is staffed and run entirely by humans?" murmured D'Jevier.
"It is."
Again that glance. D'Jevier nodded, saying, "Marool, would you consider letting us house the Questioner with you?"
Marool swallowed a snort and tried to formulate a polite mode of refusal, then bethought herself that it might be best not to refuse. Not yet, at any rate. "Why with me?"
D'Jevier rose and went to sit beside Marool, regarding her intently. "What do you know of the Questioner?"
"What anyone knows. There's something about her in the Book of Worlds, the one we all learn to read from as children. I don't think I've even heard the name of the Questioner used in a dozen years. Her creation always seemed to me to be a fool idea."
Onsofruct said in a conciliatory tone, "Perhaps, but an idea with an ancient history, nonetheless. Mankind has long been interested in assuring ethical treatment of other races."
"History is all well and good." Marool snorted. "Ethical treatment is no doubt something we all wish to achieve. But if the Timmys have come here since we came, surely the Questioner would not insist on our leaving this world."
D'Jevier crossed to the window and stared outward. "That's the enigma, Marool. They weren't here when we came, but they didn't come after we came. They couldn't have. Council of Worlds traffic monitors hang in orbit around all occupied worlds from the moment of first settlement, recording every arrival and departure. Nothing has landed on this planet since we came except the supply and trade ships we all know about. By dint of much effort, we keep Timmys away from the port. The staff there is made up of both Hags and Men of Business, and we can say unequivocally the Timmys did not arrive here; they were already here even though no one knew it."
"Now seems late to worry over it," grumbled Marool.
Onsofruct said, "We thought we'd done our worrying long since, when we first adopted our conventions vis-a-vis the Timmys: not speaking to them, not looking at them. We worried about it by shutting them away in particular places where they could not be seen. They have become to us, in accordance with custom, invisible. We could argue that they do not exist, to us."
D'Jevier nodded. "Now, however, the Questioner comes. Do we confess to generations, centuries, of untruth? Do we pretend to her that these creatures are indeed invisible? She is unlikely to agree. Do not suggest that we pack up our families and our baggage and leave the planet, for unfortunately, that is no longer an option. There are certain limits on the evacuation of planetary populations, and we are now too numerous for that choice. A century ago we could have departed, perhaps, but not now. Do we volunteer to restrict ourselves to a small part of Newholme and eschew any contact with the Timmys? A similar offer was made by mankind on Bayor's world when they discovered a native population living on a single island where they had been for millennia. The Questioner said it wasn't good enough and acted against the entire mankind population. That was only fifteen years ago, and I remember vividly the consequences of that decision."
Marool was astonished. "I had not heard of this!"
"Few of us here on Newholme read the reports of the COW, a few of us Hags, a librarian or two, a few Men of Business. The Men of Business have some understanding of the situation, for they invited us to house the Questioner at the Fortress of Vanished Men, obviously because it has no Timmy staff. As though that would be enough! The Questioner isn't blind, or deaf. Even though Timmys don't exist in the fortress—or at your mansion, Marool—she would not be fooled by that alone. No. Total banishment is necessary. The Questioner must neither hear nor see a single Timmy while she—it is here."
A long silence, during which Marool ground her teeth, finally erupting with: "How are you going to make them go?"
"They hear us. They understand us. We've said enough that they know what the stake is. Either they disappear, or we may all die."
Marool snorted. "You're assuming that all this circumspection will be easier to manage if I invite the Questioner to Mantelby House?"
"It is more hope than assumption," Onsofruct murmured. "Once the Timmys have been sent away, if they will understand enough to go away, there'll be a period of adjustment in human behavior. New habits, however, take time to form and old ones are hard to break. Presumably your house servants do not have the habit of addressing thin air with orders for the nearest Timmy to wash the dishes or milk the cows."
Marool mused, stroking her massive jaw. "True, which makes it all well and good inside my walls, but the Questioner won't sit still, will she? We can't depend on her squatting at my place all day and all night while she's here."
"This may be true. The plan is not foolproof, but we have no alternative to suggest. We do know the Questioner has various aides, assistants, deputies, and functionaries, and we can make it a point to accompany these ancillaries during their investigations, interpreting what they may or may not see or hear."
Marool moved restlessly to the small barred window that looked out over the avenue, the wide steps, the parade of women climbing toward and descending from the Temple. "I will have to get rid of my Timmy gardeners and stable workers."
"Yes," D'Jevier murmured.
"When does the banishment take place?"
"We started earlier this evening, delivering the edict to all homes and businesses."
"The planetary economy will probably collapse," said Marool, thinking of the many Men of Business who handled Mantelby affairs and all their investments and projects.
"Well, of course, if we would prefer extinction ... " Onsofruct's voice was not at all sarcastic, though her eyebrows slanted sardonically.
Marool shook her head doubtfully. "I don't see how the Questioner could insist on our extinction. How would it enforce a dictum like that?"
D'Jevier said wearily, "The biological sciences are far advanced on many worlds, Marool. The Questioner need only explode a small canister in our upper atmosphere, as was done on Bayor's world ... "
Marool retreated into sulky silence. "I suppose I can survive without Timmys. If the visit isn't long. But having guests ... it would be an inconvenience."
To break a weighty silence, Onsofruct murmured, "Let me take a few moments to discuss the matter with my colleague."
Taking D'Jevier by the arm, she l
ed her out into the hall.
"I hate that woman," said D'Jevier. "There is a horridness about her."
"You are remembering the time she came here ... "
"I am remembering that, yes. And there have been rumors. Disappearances. Things her servants tell, when they come down into town. Things her neighbors say they've heard. Things that might have been foretold, keeping Morrigan in mind."
"And you hate her," Onsofruct mused.
"I loathe her. I think all the stories are true."
"Then you don't want to authorize her to house the Questioner."
D'Jevier snorted. "I loathe her, but I loathe equally what the Questioner may do to us! I've racked my brain trying to come up with a place to put this Questioner creature where there are or have been no Timmys. In this one case, Marool's desires parallel our own. She's bright, she's ruthless, and she's likely to be as helpful as possible. Have you some better idea?"
"None," said Onsofruct.
"Then let us pay the piper, as we must."
They returned to the office, and Onsofruct said, "We could possibly grant you some consideration, Marool, to make the inconvenience worth your while."
"Well worth my while?" She lifted the corners of her mouth into a harpy's smile.
D'Jevier wet her mouth, which was inexplicably dry. "And what offer would do that?"
"You mentioned press gangs. From among the supernumeraries, and the Consort Houses ... "
Onsofruct, reading the distress on her companion's face, said in an unperturbed voice, "You would be entitled to replace your Timmys, of course. Once you have announced the edict of banishment to your stable and garden workers."
"Tomorrow?"
"If you like."
"How do I go about it?"
The two Hags exchanged quick glances once more. Marool was a good deal more eager than they thought appropriate.
"Ah," mused Onsofruct, "you can come down into the city with a few of the Haggers you have been kind enough to support and select a few supernumeraries from the streets. Take note of their identity, place of residence, and mode of living. Be prepared to bring that information here for registration."
Tepper,Sheri - Six Moon Dance Page 22