“Oh, yes. Friends of sorts, the laird and me.”
“Why is it we never ran into each other before—that is, you and me?” Jay asked.
“Usually, I’m summoned by some sort of emotional turmoil, young laird,” said the ghost. “Something bothering you?”
“I saw a fight to the death the other day. Yeah, it’s bothering me,” Jay admitted.
“That’s one of those things that becomes a matter of time and perspective,” said the ghost. “I’ve seen so many violent endings—am the product of one myself—that they don’t mean as much to me as they once did, not to be puttin’ down the horror of your feelin’s this first time. Death, though, you’ve got to realize, is a part of life. Life is always going on, sure as birth. Just because you’re not always seein’ it don’t mean it ain’t there. Without it there’d be somethin’ wrong. Try to remember that.”
“Part of what bothers me is the cruelty.”
“No gettin’ around it. It’s sometimes a part of life, too.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ghost. I don’t even know your name.”
“That sort of slipped away from me somewheres. Don’t seem to matter, though.”
“I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“Now that you mention it—”
“What?”
“Let me show you where your dad’s liquor cabinet is. I’d like you to pour a little of the Laphroaig whisky into that ashtray, where I can inhale its nourishing fumes. It’s called a libation. Surefire way to make a ghost feel like a new man.”
“Really? Libation? Show me.”
The ghost took him to the cabinet and Donnerjack prepared his drink.
“Funny you can manage something physical, even in a gaseous form.”
“Maybe that’s why they call it ‘spirits,’ ” said the ghost, chuckling.
Jay smiled. “You don’t laugh much, do you?”
“Not really.”
“Makes you look better when you do.”
“Not much seems funny from here.”
“Put the chains down sometimes.”
“I’ve tried. They always come back.”
“Have another drink, without the chains.”
“Sometimes people sing when they drink. I’d forgotten.”
“Put down the chains, I’ll take a small drink, and we’ll try singing together.”
Later, Dack’s sensors picked up an oddly matched pair of voices:
“…You take the high road and I’ll take the low road,” they were singing.
* * *
Reese, the bracelet, and his creature friends all worked to dissuade Jay Donnerjack from visiting the human enclaves in Virtu, as well as places intrinsically dangerous.
“When you’re older and can assume other identities at the drop of a hat, we can consider it,” Reese said, “but there are some pretty strange creatures wandering Virtu—and whatever your dad built into that bracelet, it’s worth a fortune. People would kill for that crossover ability. You must keep it secret. Tell no one about it. And do not let others see you cross. In the meantime, practice assuming identities.”
Jay shuddered, returning in his mind to the battle between Sayjak and Chumo.
“Do you really think some things are worth killing and dying over?” he asked.
“What I think and what you think do not matter,” Reese replied. “There are plenty who do. You cannot go too far in either world without encountering some form of violence, real or metaphorical.”
“Why not?”
“Violence is a part of the human condition.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we are built of irrational as well as rational parts. Don’t ask me ‘why’ again. Just do some reading, and look around when you have a chance to observe some people.”
“Does that apply to other creatures than humans?”
“So far as I know, yes. Why?”
“I once saw a couple of ape-people fighting to see who would be boss.”
“What were you doing among them?”
“Just resting in a tree when they came along.”
Reese frowned.
“Why do I feel there’s more to it than that?” he asked.
“Because you were just telling me to avoid people.”
“There were many, I suppose?”
“Oh, the whole tribe, I guess.”
“You must have known it was their stamping grounds.”
“Well, maybe I did, a little. But we hadn’t had this talk yet. Besides, the bracelet works both ways, you know. I can always use it to slip away back to Verite.”
“And in front of a speeding vehicle if you’re not careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
“Those ape-people are a hell of a lot stronger than we are. Tough, and kind of mean, too, I’ve heard.”
“I’d say.”
“Well, I guess you have to start learning to judge sooner or later. Remember everything I said, though, about the bracelet and people.”
Jay nodded his head. “Well-noted,” he said.
“I’ve been around a long time,” Reese said, “and I just realized that I recall something very special about being a boy.”
“What’s that?” Jay asked.
“No matter what you tell them they’re going to do what they want.”
Jay studied him for several moments, then grinned.
“You have a good memory,” he said.
* * *
If Reese did not call and none of his companions showed up to keep him company, Jay finally got to the point where he would brave the wilds of Virtu on his own. It was good finally to feel that he was learning his way around the world.
One such morning the following spring, as he wandered between jungle and veldt, he encountered the titanic form of a phant—the biggest phant he had ever caught sight of.
“Excuse me for staring,” he said, “but you are the most impressive creature I’ve ever seen.”
The phant studied him with equal intensity.
“And you look familiar,” it said, halting. “What’s your name?”
“John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior,” said the boy.
“Mine is Tranto. There is much to be said for resemblances. I knew your father a few years back. We did each other some good turns.”
“Where did you know him from?”
“One time, I encountered him on his way back from Deep Fields. He was with your mother.”
“There is no such place as Deep Fields!”
Tranto trumpeted something like a laugh. “It ill becomes one to mock when one is not certain,” he said.
“I am being trained in the ways of science.”
“Which, as I understand it, should bespeak an open mind.”
Jay looked downward and kicked sand.
“You’re right,” he said. “Sorry.”
The phant laughed again. “No matter, just where we met. But you’ve put me to thinking.”
“Oh?”
“I was going mad with pain on that occasion, the result of an old injury to the nerves at the base of one of my tusks. Once it starts it doesn’t normally stop until it’s driven me over the deep end. It’s hard for me to remember, but I’ve been told I do some very violent and antisocial things on these occasions.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Because I’ve been living very happily with a herd of my own kind for a long while now—and it’s starting again. I’m trying to get as far away from them as possible. I have a family as well as friends there. I’ve been their protector. I don’t want to turn on them. So I slipped away early this morning to be alone when it happened. Now who should I meet but the son of the man who actually broke one of my attacks?”
“My dad did that?”
“Yes, and I have a perfect memory when there’s no pain overlay. Now, he was muttering about things called acupressure and shiatsu while he worked on and around it. Do the terms mean anything to you?”
; “A bit,” Jay said. “I know the theory somewhat. But I don’t have people I can practice on.”
“If I tell you exactly where he placed his hands and what he did in those places, would you be willing to try?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll lie down then, so it will be easier for you to get at the points.”
“Go ahead.”
Jay drew back as the huge phant knelt, turned, and lay upon his side.
“Impressive,” he muttered.
“First, kind of massage around the base of the top tusk, just kind of gentlelike. That’s how he started.”
“Comin’ up, Tranto.”
“Good. Even if it doesn’t work, I’ll remember you tried. Oddly now, there’s a place between a couple of the toes on the foot on that side…”
Ten minutes later, the big phant was half-dozing.
“Too soon to tell,” he said, “but it feels good. You’ve been at it longer than he was. You’d better go now.”
“I’ve a mind to stick around and see if it worked.”
“You wouldn’t like being stepped on by a friend, would you?”
“No, but I’ve checked it out, and I’ll be okay.”
“Crazy Jay Donnerjack,” said Tranto. “You come from a long line of mad scientists, did you know that?”
“Appearances can be deceptive. Go to sleep. I’ll chase off small predators and swear at big ones. I’ve been anxious to practice my swearing.”
Jay stayed with Tranto much of that day, and when the big phant awoke he looked around, seeing the boy.
“By George, I think you’ve done it,” he said finally.
“It’s good to know there are still a few happy endings left.”
“Yes.”
Tranto rose slowly, stretched, trumpeted. “Guess I’ll be heading back,” he said. “Glad I met another Donnerjack at the right time.”
“Any time,” said the boy. “I’m glad to know my dad was so well liked by so many different people. —You’ve actually seen Deep Fields?”
“Yes, but I just remember things in flashes from when the madness is on me. I left lots of big tracks through entropy, as I recall, and pissed off its boss.”
Jay shuddered.
“There really is an intelligence associated with it?”
“Yes—and with you. You are their firstborn, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t really understand the bond between you and the Lord of Entropy, so I won’t speculate. But for whatever it’s worth, you ought to be aware that there is something strange there.”
“It doesn’t seem there’d be much I could do about it.”
“There is a legend that your father once fought the Lord of Entropy to a draw.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. The only one who might is himself a legendary figure known as the Brass Babboon. I’ve never met him. I heard the story of an old owl, who once passed the time of day in his cab.”
“His cab?”
“Yes, the Brass Babboon is a train.”
“This is all very confusing. Can you tell me how I might find this train?”
“No, I’ve heard that it comes and goes where it would and has a variety of ghost stations and train yards where it is serviced. It must find you, I believe.”
Jay snorted. “I think I’ve lost my scientific open-mindedness,” he said.
“I’m just relaying rumors here, because they pertain to you. No firsthand knowledge. I’m pretty skeptical myself under the circumstances.”
“I understand. I’ll find you again sometime. If you hear any more stories about my dad save them for me.”
“I will. I’ll be going now. Thanks.”
Jay watched him lumber away at a surprisingly rapid pace. After Tranto was out of sight he heard him trumpeting again, a wild, joyful thing.
That night, lying in bed, Jay recalled that the bracelet contained some of his father’s memories, though it often became rather reticent when questioned concerning them.
Never certain whether he was accessing it correctly, he tapped it several times with a pencil.
“Information concerning John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Senior, if you please,” he asked.
“How may I help you?” came the reply.
“Did he ever really journey to Deep Fields and confront the Lord of Entropy there?” he asked.
“That information is restricted at this time,” it said.
“Is there a Deep Fields?”
“Restricted.”
“A Lord of Entropy?”
“Restricted.”
“A train called the Brass Babboon?”
“Yes.”
“Has it been to Deep Fields?”
“Let us assume that it has.”
“How can one locate this machine?”
“Restricted.”
“There must be a very special reason to restrict this information from me.”
“There is.”
“Have I some special connection with Deep Fields?”
“Restricted.”
“With the Lord of Deep Fields?”
“Restricted.”
“If there were a way we could discuss Deep Fields, its lord, and my connection with them, would there be anything you could tell me about them or about myself?”
“Hm. Let me examine that sentence structure a few moments, will you?”
“Certainly.”
“I suppose I would tell you that there is a great, dark, mysterious palace in Deep Fields.”
“Yes?”
“And that its architect was John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Senior.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Perhaps in payment of a debt.”
“Was I concerned in all this?”
“Not directly, no.”
“Am I now?”
“Restricted.”
“I think there is more information you could give me.”
“Restricted.”
“And I’m too tired to fish anymore. G’night.”
“‘Night.”
From that day on, John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior felt that he had some special mission in life—whether for good, ill, or something else, he could not tell.
THREE
John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior stood before a virtual mirror he had created in a small culvert he had also created in a wood of Virtu near to the precincts of Castle Donnerjack. He became a beautiful blue-eyed woman with blond hair down to the middle of his back. Raising his arms above his head, he rotated slowly upon his vertical axis, checking for anatomical felicity. Satisfied, he lowered his arms, smiled, and curtsied to his reflection.
He closed his eyes for a moment then, and changed the subject. When he opened them he looked first to his hands, which had grown hairy, then to his reflection, which was now that of one of Sayjak’s tribe.
Dubhe applauded. “Well done! Well done!” he cried. “Ideally, though, you’ve got to do it without closing your eyes. Someone may throw something or swing something at you.”
“True,” said Jay.
“Try something totally nonhuman—like a piece of furniture, a rock, a machine.”
“Okay. Let me think a minute.”
“No time! They’re breaking down the door! Do it now!”
Jay hustled and turned into an end table.
“Not bad, except that you’re not level and you have five legs.”
“Oops!”
“Inanimates can be very tricky. This is why you’re practicing. People who are exceptionally good at it usually start out with just a few, practice them to perfection, then move on, building a repertoire.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I ask you a personal question?” said Jay, resuming human form.
“Go ahead.”
“What do you do when we’re not together?”
“Wander. There’s an awful lot of Virtu to see.”
“You don’t work for anyone?�
��
“I work for the enrichment of my spirit. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you and Mizar and Phecda and Alioth all showed up at about the same time, and I didn’t think of it then but I sometimes wonder whether it was completely coincidental.”
“You should have asked me sooner because I’ve wondered, too, and I’ve compared notes with the others on it. We all wander. We all have things in common and get together periodically. We are all kind of fascinated by your case.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’d love to see Castle Donnerjack beyond the Great Stage. We all probably hanker after things we can’t have.”
“Come this way,” Jay said, walking briskly back.
Dubhe hurried after.
Coming at length to the Great Stage, Jay said, “I want to see if I can take you through along with me.”
“With all due respect,” Dubhe observed, “I don’t believe it can be done. I think you’re just some sort of anomaly because an exception was made allowing you to have parents from both sides.”
“Maybe,” said Jay. “But I always wanted to find out. Let’s give it a try.”
“Okay. What should I do?”
“Take my hand.”
Dubhe did this thing.
“Come this way,” Jay said, opening the door and walking briskly back.
Dubhe hurried after.
Stepping onto the Great Stage, Jay grinned. “Here goes nothing.”
“With all due respect…” Dubhe began.
Not releasing Dubhe’s hand, Jay walked onto the Stage, crossed it, stepped down into his father’s office.
Moving through his father’s office, Jay touched a desk.
“The real thing,” he announced.
Dubhe reached out. His hand stopped at the surface.
“I feel it!” he said.
“Good! Touch a few other things. Don’t touch any controls, though.”
“Shan’t. Can we go farther than this room?”
“I don’t see why not. Come on.”
They made their way out and down the nearest stair, encountering no one. Dubhe ran his hands over tapestries, furniture, walls as they went.
“But it’s just the same!” he finally protested.
“That’s the way I feel, too.”
“Don’t feel I could move into a phase, though.”
“Don’t think you can.”
“Do you think we could step outside?”
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