The Ozark trilogy

by Suzette Haden Elgin

  “Greetings, Responsible of Brightwater; follow me.”

  I followed.

  I had not expected parties here, or parades, or fairs. I knew better. A formal dinner—for twelve—I had expected. And I was prepared for one Solemn Service after another; that would strike the Travellers as entertainment enough. Ordinary Solemn Service on Tinaseeh began on Sundy at 7:00 of the morning and lasted past noon, to be followed by another session after a two-hour break for dinner. I had anticipated that a company Solemn Service might well provide me with preaching enough to fortify me against all the evil I’d have to contend with for the next year or two. I’d expected a substantial edification of my soul.

  But I was not prepared for what actually did take place, which was that ten minutes after I’d freshened up—with an Attendant standing in my door waiting with an eloquent back to me, seeing that I didn’t tarry over it—I was taken without further ado to a formal Family Council. Hospitable, it wasn’t. And I felt a sudden steadying in my stomach. This—which was glorified sass, by the look of it—was more in my line of experience than what I’d just been through at Wommack. If it turned out sufficiently extravagant it would even give me something I needed badly ... something to keep my unruly mind in order yet a while.

  The Meetingroom had walls of varnished ironwood, and it held a group of people that appeared to be put together of the same unappealing substance, seated in straight chairs around a long narrow table. They reminded me of the side-by-side upright logs that fenced their keeps, and my traveling costume stood out in the grim and the gloom like a carnival garb.

  “Young woman,” said the man at the head of the table, “I am Jeremiah Thomas Traveller the 26th; be seated.”

  I sat, and he named them off. His wife, Suzannah of Parson. His three oldest sons: Jeremiah Thomas the 27th, Nahum Micah the 4th, and Stephen Phillip the 30th ... why he wasn’t Obadiah Jonas I couldn’t imagine; perhaps Suzannah had pleaded for some relief. His three oldest daughters still at home—Rosemary, Chastity, and Miranda, every one of them a six. His brother, Valen Marion Traveller the 9th. And his own mother, now a Granny in this Castle, Granny Leeward. Not another wife, not a husband, not a child; just the in-Family.

  “And I,” I said, “am Responsible of Brightwater As you are aware.”

  “We are that,” said Suzannah of Farson. “It could hardly be missed.” Her reference was to my outfit, which was in marked contrast to her own dress of dark gray belted with black. I smiled at her, sweet as cinnamon sugar, and waited the move.

  “We have called this Council in your honor,” she said, “and would like to begin. But you’ve had a long journey—are you hungry? Or thirsty? We can have coffee brought, and some food, if you need it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “I had breakfast before I left.”

  “Considerate of you,” said Suzannah. “We have little time to waste here on Tinaseeh. It’s a hard land, and not meant for the shiftless.”

  “Proceed, then,” I told her “You’ve no need to coddle me, I assure you; I’m perfectly comfortable. And I’ve been in Council a time or two before. I expect you’ll find me able to tolerate yours.”

  “Are you trying to be insolent, missy?” said the Granny, her mouth tight. “Or does it just come natural to you?”

  I considered the question, and I looked her up and down, and no looking away from her pale blue eyes, either; and I decided that her question was serious, not just grannying, and deserved a serious answer

  “It’s a cold welcome you’ve offered me, Granny Leeward,” I said, “and not the way an Ozarker’s brought up to treat a guest. As it comes natural to youall to be unpleasant, it comes natural to me to be unpleasant in return. I’m told I’m good at it.”

  “Guests,” said Granny Leeward, “are invited. You were not.”

  “True enough,” I said. “And you’re not the first to point it out to me.”

  “There are those,” she said, “as would of taken instruction the first time they heard it—and not needed a second statement of the obvious.”

  “There are those,” I said, “as let every little thing put them off their duty. I am not one of those.”

  Silence. And then the Granny, who appeared to have been designated spokesperson for this collection of alleged living beings, began in earnest.

  “I call for Full Council,” she said.

  “Seconded.” And the ayes went round.

  “Explain your purpose here. Responsible of Brightwater,” she continued. “And speak up plain. It’s a long table.”

  “There’s been magic used for mischief on Marktwain,” I said easily. “You know all about that. And a baby kidnapped from out of a Solemn Service, which is not decent. And in Full Council it was decided that it might be a good idea to spell out the particulars to the Twelve Families, as well as find the maker of the mischief. And it was agreed that I was best equipped to do that—and here, therefore, I am.”

  “You’re a girl of fourteen!” she declared.

  “You’re a woman of eighty-six. Neither number is significant.”

  “And what fits a girl of fourteen—it is of significance, missy, for it means you’ve neither wisdom nor instruction nor experience—what fits a girl of fourteen to go gallivanting around the planet on a Mule, dressed like a whore, pestering decent folk and creating trouble everywhere she goes?”

  Well, she was a Granny of eighty-six, and I was a girl of fourteen, as had just been stated. I took the bait she’d laid for me as easy as if I’d never heard the word before.

  Granny Leeward had been holding a black cloth fan, using it to tap the table with to emphasize the ends of her phrases. By the time she got to “everywhere she goes” she was holding as pretty a nosegay of black mushrooms as you’d care to see anywhere. And they had me.

  Her hand didn’t even quiver, though I knew the mushrooms stung her—I’d made sure of that, while I was digging myself a hole to fall in—and she laid them out before her on the table and folded her arms.

  “There’s your answer,” she said. “Just as I told you.”

  Jeremiah Thomas Traveller the 26th looked at his timepiece and nodded with satisfaction.

  “Well done, Granny Leeward,” he said. “Three minutes flat.”

  “Mighty sensitive to words, aren’t you, child,” said their dear old Granny, “for someone who sets herself so high she presumes to teach the Twelve Families their manners?”

  Law, how it galled! I’d of given years off my life to have back the last five minutes, and sense enough to do them over right. But that’s not how the world works, as I could hear myself telling other people, and there was nothing I could do but be silent and see where this would lead me.

  The Master of the Castle told me.

  “Personally,” he said, “I was inclined to think Granny Leeward was exaggerating some when she told us her estimate of your abilities. I have daughters of my own, and they do sometimes play about with Spells and the like, when they get to be your age—it’s a stage, and they grow out of it. But you seem to have got somewhat beyond that, Responsible of Brightwater”

  “I sincerely beg your pardon,” I said sadly “I’m afraid I lost my temper—and I’d ask you to lay that to my age, too, if you would. It won’t happen again.”

  “How could it happen at all?”

  I didn’t answer but he wasn’t about to drop it.

  “How does it happen at all,” he insisted, “that a girl of fourteen, whatever special place she may have in the frame of things, is able to set a Spell like that one you just set, and her against a skilled Granny?”

  I saw Granny Leeward’s lips twitch at that; she knew very well no Spell nor Charm would have turned her fan into those mushrooms. That had required a Substitution Transformation, and an illegal one, and it had been incredibly stupid of me. A simple Spell would of been more than enough ... I could of just heated up the fan a little bit, and had my temper fit that way. But the Granny wouldn’t betray me to a male; she lowered her
eyes, and she kept her silence.

  “I’ve studied a good deal,” I said carefully, “and I’ve had good teachers. Nonetheless, it wasn’t nice of me. As I said, I regret I did it, and I apologize, most respectfully.”

  “Well, Granny Leeward told us you knew a few tricks,” said her son, “and that she figured it wouldn’t take her five minutes to prove she was right—and it took her three. I don’t mind telling you, young woman, I don’t approve of it atall. I’m sorry my family had to see it happen.”

  “And so is Responsible of Brightwater;” said the Granny, twisting the knife. “Pride,” she added, “goes along before a fall.”

  “I’m afraid ‘sorry’ won’t cut it,” said Jeremiah Thomas. “No; I’m afraid it will take more than just sorry to make me easy with something like you under my roof.”

  Here it came again; I didn’t bother to ask.

  “I’ll have your sworn word,” he said. “And I’ll have it now.”

  “Sworn to what?”

  “That you’ll use no magic—not any level, Responsible of Brightwater; not even Common Sense—so long as you are, as you yourself point out, the guest of this Castle and this Family, and under my roof. Since it’s clear you’ve no sense of what’s decent, you’ll make do on mother wit alone.”

  “Are you that afraid of a few tricks?” I taunted him. “From a girl of fourteen?”

  “Indeed I am,” he said, “indeed I am! This is a respectable household, and the people within it not accustomed to scandal. We follow the old ways here, and we have a wholesome respect for the power of such as you, no matter how you come packaged. If you came into my house with a loaded gun, you’d have to give it up while you stayed here, as would you a flask of poison, or a laser; or any other such truck. And I’m a lot more afraid of magic unbridled than I am of any of those.”

  He turned away from me then and spoke to the son that bore his name.

  “I hope you see,” he said gravely, “and I hope you will spread the word among our people, that this is what can be expected when the old ways are not observed. I’ll count on you to go over it with considerable care when you speak to our households next—might could be that will tame a few of those not thinking in the proper way of the Jubilee this young woman’s been sent around to sponsor.”

  “As a matter of fact, sir,” the answer came, “it seems to me it might be an excellent idea to discuss this whole thing at the Jubilee. It would perhaps be instructive for the other Families to hear about.”

  My gown was drenched with my own cold salt sweat, and my hair clung to my neck like wet weeds. I’d found my guilty, no doubt about that; it could hardly have been clearer if they’d had it branded on their foreheads. The venom from around that table, where almost no one had spoken one word, or more than stared at me, was as real as my two hands before me, and it battered at me in waves. I admired the cool control of this Granny—most would have been setting wards.

  It was a tidy trap, grant them all that. If I accused them of using magic to wreck the Jubilee, or of turning it against Castle Brightwater; as I surely could have, there were ten grown men and women in this room prepared to swear that they’d seen me carry out an illegal act of magic right before their eyes, under their own roof, and against one of their own. And they would be telling the truth. If I’d been against the Confederation my own self, I could hardly have done it graver harm, and for sure I’d of been better off listening to my uncles, staying home, and ignoring the whole thing.

  And if I gave them the oath they asked for—as I would have to do, no question about it, and their Granny there to see that I left no comers dangling—there’d be no passing this night in undoing by magic the folly I’d wreaked. I’d lie in my bed and I’d pray, and I would maybe cry some; but I’d do no magic. Not even to look ahead and see just how much chance there was of any solution to the problem.

  “Well, let’s have your promise,” said Jeremiah Thomas. “Our Granny assures us that your wickedness doesn’t extend to violating your own word, and she’s proved she knows your measure. No magic, Responsible of Brightwater; for so long as you are within the continental borders of Tinaseeh. None.”

  He was very sure of himself; we’d gone from “under my roof” to the whole-continent at remarkable speed. But then, he was in a position where he could afford to be sure of himself.

  “I promise,” I said. “Certainly.”

  “Put your hands on the table so we can see—”

  “Oh, Jeremiah Thomas,” said Granny Leeward pettishly, “that’s not needful! What do you think she’s going to do, cross her fingers? This one does not play games.”

  “That I do not,” I agreed.

  “Nor do we,” said the Granny. “Bear that in mind.”

  “It does not seem to me,” said Jeremiah Thomas slowly, “that just saying she promises is enough, in this case. Have another look at those mushrooms there, making the table nasty with their rot, will you, Granny Leeward? She might-”

  “She gave her word,” said the Granny. “That’s all that’s required.”

  “Let her give it in full, then,” said her stubborn offspring. “And I’ll be satisfied.”

  I knew the sort of thing that would appeal to him, and having no choice whatsoever, I gave it to him.

  “For so long as I am within the continental borders of Tinaseeh,” I intoned, “I will do no magic, of any sort or kind, at any level, for any reason whatever, no matter what may come to pass—not even to safeguard this house or those within it, not even to safeguard myself. My word on it, given in full.” There.

  I saw the Granny’s eyebrows go up at the phrase about safeguarding their house, but she didn’t say a word. I knew then that there must be at least a couple of Magicians of Rank in this Castle at this moment—I knew of three that very well could be—and if there were one or two I didn’t know about besides, it wouldn’t be past believing. She was far too calm, knowing what she knew, not to have quite a backup behind her own legal skills.

  “Well?” I asked him. “Will that do it?”

  “If Granny Leeward approves.”

  “Oh, it’s enough,” said that one, “and a bit more.”

  “In that case,” he said, “we can get on with the business of this Council.”

  I had thought tricking me into my present position of total helplessness was the business of his Council; but it was apparently no more than item one on the agenda.

  “My sons have a few questions to ask of you, young woman,” he said. “We’ll need a bit more of your time.”

  They wanted to know a lot of things. What arrangements I had made for seeing to it that the Families would be safe at Brightwater during the Jubilee—from “malicious magic,” to use their term, and their using it struck me as astonishing gall considering that they were its source. It amounted to saying, “If we come in with fifty vials of deadly poison to spread around, what have you got on hand that will be able to stop us?” They wanted to know details of the schedule for the Jubilee; if, presumably, I had ways to keep it going, then how much time would have to be “wasted” on frivolity before we could get down to the real purpose of the meeting? What the real purpose of the meeting was. Why I felt such an outlay of time and trouble and money was justified, when there were Wildernesses to be cleared and roads to be laid and wells to be dug and windmills and solar collectors to be built and crops to be planted and fish to be caught, and game to be hunted, and other serious work that went understaffed and underfunded and would grow more so while we fooled away time at Brightwater. What did I assume would be accomplished by this “gaudy display” that couldn’t have been taken care of at an ordinary meeting of the Confederation of Continents? How many were being invited from each Family, and how many had accepted? Where would they be staying, and who’d see to their comfort? Did I give my guarantee that it would be not only safe for children, but an edifying experience—and if not, how did I propose to justify leaving them all behind? Would all the Magicians of Rank be present at
the Jubilee, and all the Magicians, and for that matter; all the Grannys? And if so, why—who needed them there and for what? And if not, why not, and what would they be doing behind our backs instead?

  It went on and on, and it was thorougher than could be excused by any motive except wearing me out and humiliating me, and rubbing my nose some more in my sudden position of servility to their will. I had no trouble with any of the questions; they set them in turn, each son asking three, and then politely yielding to his brother Every word I said was information already available to them in the proceedings and proclamations of the Confederation over at least the last three years, and there’d not been a single Confederation meeting where one of those sons—and sometimes the father as well— had not sat as delegate. My throat got raw, and my back got tired, and they went on and on, learning nothing they didn’t already know.

  “That’s enough,” said Suzannah of Parson at last, long after I’d decided they intended to keep it up all night.

  “Granny?” said Jeremiah Thomas.

  “Been enough a long while,” said Granny Leeward, “and you’ve made your point. I’ve heard nothing that made my ears stand up, and you’ll not wear that one out just prattling at her—your sons are showing off, and they begin to irritate me some. You forget your own position on moderation, Jeremiah Thomas?”

  He flushed, and the sons looked whiter and grimmer than ever; but he didn’t cross her. He just pointed at the mushrooms, now, I’m happy to say, a really stinking mess of putrid black on their tabletop, and said, “What about those?”

  “I’ll see to them,” said me Granny. “Never you mind.”

  “You wouldn’t dare touch them,” I said coldly.

  “You think not, missy?”

  “I know not!” As I did, I’d have handled them with a great deal of care my own self.

  “I’ll have them seen to, then,” she told her son. “Comes to me same thing.”

  Jeremiah Thomas Traveller stood up, then, and adjourned the Council, took his lady on his arm and led us all out of there, and sent me on to my room with another of his silent Attendants.