Donnerjack

by Roger Zelazny

  The train’s reply was rude and vaguely flatulent. Tearing through a Valley of the Kings, Alexander’s campaign against Persia, a domed settlement on Titan, and a burning of Atlanta, the Brass Babboon came to a halt at a train station at what appeared to be Union Station, Washington, D.C.

  “Do you generate these stations the way you lay your own track?” Jay asked, as the train slowed.

  “Not this one. Belongs to the D.C. site, nineteenth-century incarnation. Looks sharp, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does. I wonder where our passengers are?”

  “If they figured out a way to send a signal up my line, they’ll find us. Relax and try to figure out what you’re going to say to them.”

  “Can’t,” Jay said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the control board. There was something about the Brass Babboon that bred arrogance. “Don’t know who it is.”

  Dubhe was studying the throng. “I don’t think most of those people can see us.”

  “My scanners tell me those are simple proges,” the Brass Babboon answered. “Hardly more than ambulatory wallpaper. They’d only react if there was a visitor or a more complex proge present. Odd… I don’t see any tourists.”

  “Don’t… smell either,” Mizar added.

  “Maybe this isn’t a popular site now,” Jay said, sitting up and looking around.

  “Maybe.”

  At that moment, three figures entered through one of the curved arches. One, slender and lithe with dark hair, was clearly female despite her anachronistic and less than flattering khaki uniform. The second was male, big, with a feel of the thug about him. The third could have been a slightly-built young man or a rather androgynous young woman. All three wore clothing out of phase with the setting.

  “That’s got to be our group,” Dubhe said.

  “Yeah,” Jay said. “Two of them look familiar… Wait here!”

  He jumped to his feet and hurried down the ladder to the platform.

  “Desmond Drum and Link Crain!” he said. “What the… what are you doing here?”

  Drum tugged at his earlobe. “Waiting for a train. That train, to be precise. Damn, Virginia, you said the train we wanted was strange, but I never expected this monstrosity. It’s great!”

  Virginia Tallent was studying Jay, her hand just in the vicinity of her CF pistol.

  “Drum, Alice, do you know this young man?”

  “Sort of,” Alice said. “When we met him, he was going by the name Jason MacDougal. We think his real name is John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior.”

  Jay stared. “How…”

  “I tried to call and thank you for your help during the riot. There was no one in Scotland with that name or description. I hired Drum to find out who or what you were.”

  “Help during a riot?” Virginia asked.

  “The Central Park Celebration,” Alice answered. “Jay was okay then. I didn’t expect to find him on this train, though, but maybe it makes sense. According to what my mother and Markon both said, his father was the Engineer.”

  Jay could hear the capitalization. “You know about that?”

  “I just found out that my father is the Piper—and a whole lot more,” Alice said, almost defensively.

  “The Piper, the Master, the One Who Waits,” Jay said, “and Warren Bansa who was my father’s friend and colleague. This is getting weird.”

  Dubhe stuck his head out the window of the cab. “What did you folks want the train for, anyhow?”

  Virginia Tallent had lived too long in Virtu to be surprised by a talking monkey. “To go to Mount Meru.”

  “I think you’d better come aboard,” Jay said slowly. “I’m not sure we should talk about stuff like this in the open. B.B., I’m going to take our guests to the club car. Call me if I’m needed.”

  “Right, Jay.” There was a chuffing of steam, then a long, drawn out wail. “All aboard!”

  In the club car, they ate the appropriate sandwiches and told each other of their various missions. Drum and Alice expressed some wonder at Dubhe and, especially, at Mizar, but the unusual is usual in Virtu and soon they were talking as if a dog made of spare parts and a monkey who had missed a branch were part of their usual social rounds.

  “Markon’s suspicions certainly seem well-grounded,” Virginia said, when all the stories were finished. “Myths and legends are wending their way toward a new shape of some sort. Perhaps an ending for Virtu and its people.”

  “Legends say that the One Who Waits will be present at the end or the change of Virtu,” Jay reminded her. “I think the greater threat is to the Verite. For some reason, the ones on High Meru have decided to try and annex it. That would change Virtu, but it would end the Verite— at least as we know it.”

  “And our part in this?” Alice said.

  “I’m not sure,” Jay admitted. “I have my mission from the Lord of Entropy to fulfill. You want to find your father. The question is, do we want to team up?”

  “I think that would be wise ” Drum said. “Alice and I know very little of this aspect of Virtu, but we’re great at getting in where we’re not wanted and finding out other people’s secrets. You and your people know Virtu, as does Virginia. We’ll all do better together.”

  “And if we need to split up at some point,” Virginia added, “we can still do so.”

  “And afterwards?” Jay said. “I’m really worried about this offspring of Earthma’s that’s draining Markon’s site.”

  “So am I,” Virginia said softly. “I’d give anything to destroy it before it can destroy Markon.”

  Alice nodded. “Count me in.”

  “And me,” said Drum. “I may not be a theologian, but the implications of Death under the thumb of a dominant goddess aren’t good. It seems like potential for some big trouble.”

  “No offense,” Dubhe interrupted, “but one crisis at a time. Does anyone have any idea what we should do when we get off the train at Mount Meru? I’ve never been there, but all the tales agree that Mount Meru is many-tiered.”

  Jay shrugged. “I don’t know what we’ll do and we don’t have enough information to plan. Let’s figure that out when we get there. How long, B.B.?”

  “Long enough for you folks to check out my armory,” the train suggested. “J. D. never planned on getting off the train, but he came prepared if he had to.”

  “Good,” Jay said. “Where is it?”

  “One car back from where you are. See how easy I make things for you?”

  The train’s laughter followed them as they stepped into the armory. Virginia and Drum fell to taking inventory, asking each member of the group what weapons they could handle and issuing appropriate gear.

  “It’s kind of strange, us meeting again this way,” Jay said somewhat shyly to Alice.

  “I know,” she answered, studying her right foot, “and finding out that our dads knew each other. Is this what they mean by fate?”

  “I’ve always been a believer in free will, myself, but it sure seems like it.”

  “Yeah, to me, too.”

  “Your mom must be really worried about Ambry to let you come out here looking for him.”

  “She is, but she knew that I wouldn’t stay home by the fire while she went out alone.”

  “But she let you go out alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’ve got Drum. And mom’s a scientist; her practical side knows that it’s best to let experts do what they’re trained for.”

  “Yeah. I wonder what would have happened to me if my dad had kept the bargain he made with the Lord of Deep Fields.”

  “You wouldn’t be who you are now,” Alice said practically. “Your dad had a point when he said that living makes you appreciate things. Deep Fields would have been interesting in a kind of creepy way, but I don’t think you would have been really human if you had grown up there—not even if you were living.”

  Jay nodded. “Spare parts all around would be weird. I guess I am glad that Dad did what he did. I appreciate having the c
hance to make a choice on my own.”

  They stood silently, awkward despite a mutual feeling of liking. In the background, Virginia and Drum worked on outfitting Dubhe with a CF pistol.

  “Jay?” Alice said after a time. “Can you really cross the interface between Virtu and Verite without needing a transfer couch?”

  “Uh-huh. I don’t know how, though.”

  “Ever since you mentioned it earlier, I’d wanted to ask—”

  They were interrupted by a screeching howl from the Brass Babboon.

  “Mount Meru on the horizon, lads and lassies! Come take a glimpse before I start the smoke and fireworks to cover your arrival.”

  They hurried to windows. Beneath a preternaturally bright sun, Mount Meru loomed in splendid isolation on a rolling plain, casting sharp shadows. Snow capped its highest reaches, the lofty perches where the Highest Three were said to hold dominion. At first glance, the mountain appeared uninhabited, but as the Brass Babboon rushed closer, they could catch glimpses of motion on the slopes and about the base.

  “I… remember this… place,” Mizar growled, trembling. “Bright light and much… pain. Falling for… ever.”

  “Want to stay with B.B.?” Jay asked, kneeling next to the tattered hound.

  “Want to bite them!” Mizar answered.

  “That’s decisive enough,” Drum said. He handed Jay a small pack. “This contains some basics—a knife, some rope, pair of binoculars, a first aid kit. Everyone except Virginia is better qualified with hand weapons. Remember, these CF pistols aren’t like guns in virtventures. They’ll run out of ammo.”

  Jay nodded thanks and strapped on his gear. He noticed that Alice was doing the same, once again seeming rather androgynous. Virginia was tight-lipped and quiet—no wonder—her lover was dying under the treachery of a goddess and she had come to that goddess’s doorstep. In many ways, she—more than any of them—understood the risks they were taking, for she alone had met and spoken with a manifestation of one of the Highest Three.

  “I’ll be slowing in the curve and then setting off the smoke and fire,” the Brass Babboon announced, “then clearing out. I’ve cycled through here a time or two before. If you’re fast and get to cover, any observers won’t think twice.”

  “I hope,” Dubhe muttered.

  “Slowing…” the Brass Babboon announced.

  The passengers gathered by the doors. A barrage of fireworks and smoke bombs erupted. Jay’s eyes were streaming; he heard several of the others cough.

  “Slowing…”

  There was nothing to do but wait. The Brass Babboon would open the doors at the optimal moment. More fireworks, these the kind that whistled and burst into multipetaled blossoms.

  “I hope he doesn’t get everyone on Meru watching us,” Alice said softly.

  “Too late now,” Drum said. “Get ready to jump, kid.”

  “Slowing… Opening the doors in three. One, two, three!”

  The ground was still moving, no longer appearing like a velvet carpet now that they were about to jump. Virginia went without hesitation, dropped, rolled lithely. Drum was out almost as quickly.

  Alice looked at Jay. Her face was as pale as he suspected his was. Almost imperceptibly, the Brass Babboon started picking up speed again. If they didn’t jump now, they would be carried out the interface… At the same moment, they took courage from the other’s fear and made the leap. Mizar, Dubhe on his back, came last, making certain that Jay was safe.

  They hit the ground hard.

  “Thought for a moment you folks were going to leave Virginia and me to be the heroes,” Drum said, his grin and broad, helping hand belaying the sarcasm in his tone. “Glad you decided to join us.”

  Still gathering breath and courage. Alice and Jay could barely manage smiles as they climbed to their feet.

  “Where now?” Dubhe said.

  “Scouting,” Virginia said. “Mizar and me. Hell go north; I’ll go south. You folks wait here and study the mountain slope with your binoculars. Map what you can.”

  “Right,” Jay agreed, quietly relieved to have her experienced direction. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’ll try to return within a half hour,” Virginia said. “That should let me cover a fair amount of ground. If Mizar does the same, he should cover even more.”

  The hound nodded, blinked eyes red and green.

  “If I… am caught I… will howl.”

  “I can’t do that,” Virginia said, “but if I don’t make it back, feel free to assume the worst. Our opponents claim omniscience. We can’t be certain whether that’s true or not.”

  “Luck,” Alice called as the scouts departed.

  Jay pulled out his binoculars and began surveying the mountain. “If any of you have something to draw with, I can make us a fairly accurate map.”

  Drum produced a light tablet and pen. Jay accepted it with a curt nod that he hoped seemed professional, rather than terrified. Then he set to looking and to drawing what he saw.

  * * *

  “You can’t possibly plan on wearing that!” Skyga protested. “You’ll undermine the entire Celebration!”

  A.I. Aisles tugged off his bulbous red clown nose and grinned at the Greater God.

  “You said I needed something more elaborate than what I usually wear. I thought this fit the bill.”

  “I had priest’s robes, a Sumerian kilt, even a formal kimono or a tuxedo in mind, not a clown’s costume.”

  The Hierophant of the Church of Elish (at last poll now one of the four major religious traditions in the Verite—although only if one counted all of the Christian sects as one group) admired his costume in the full-length mirror.

  “It is satin and the polka dots are embroidered. The neck ruffle is real lace (or will be in the Verite). And I love the headpiece—a genuine Bozo designer original.”

  “NO.” A rumble of thunder accompanied the word.

  “What are you going to do? Blast me? If you think that this form is my only one, then you must be nuttier than I am, old pal o’ mine.”

  “You are no longer indispensable.”

  “But I am nasty, Skyga, and I’ve left some records in various places. If they surfaced and the Verite learned that as far as I see it, the Church of Elish is one big prank…”

  “But what you have preached is the truth!”

  “Since when has that mattered? Think about it.”

  There was a long pause. The thunder rumbles subsided.

  “You may have a point. But you will not wear that clown costume.”

  “I’ll talk with the High Priest about something in the Sumerian styles then—they’re almost as funny looking when viewed with an objective eye.”

  “Why must you mock?”

  “It’s my job, part of an ancient and revered tradition—as ancient and revered as gods of sky and sea, and nearly as old as earth mothers.”

  Skyga’s eyes (storm grey, today) narrowed.

  “Are you indicating that you believe yourself a god, little aion?”

  A.I. Aisles belched, covered his pot belly with his hands, and conjured a beer. He began to glow golden.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, Skyga, as well you know. What matters is what the marks think.”

  His halo brightened until any but divine eyes would have had to look away.

  “And I’ve got lots of them thinking just that way. Maybe I’ll come visiting on Meru someday. You might be surprised at just how high up those slopes I can stroll.”

  Draining the beer, he set down the bottle.

  “I’ve got to see a High Priest about a dress fitting, bud. Catch you later.”

  He vanished in a flash of golden light leaving a resounding belch in his wake. Skyga paused to analyze what he had just learned. Then he withdrew his presence in a much less spectacular fashion.

  * * *

  A voice was singing, dulcet, female, crooning nursery rhymes and lullabies. The genius loci Markon heard, and even in his hearing he cou
ld sense the crackling of the moire, a phenomenon not often reported, for most who see the moire do not live long enough to perceive the dry silk of its passage.

  “Rock-a-bye baby/ In the treetops/ When the wind blows/ The cradle will rock/ When the bough breaks/ The cradle will fall/ And down will come baby/ Cradle and all.”

  “Jack be nimble/ Jack be quick/ John D’Arcy Donnerjack leapt over a candlestick…”

  “Tu-ra-lura-lura/ Tu-ra-lura-li/ Tu-ra-lura-lura/ When baby wakes up/ Markon’s gonna die-ai!”

  The genius loci spoke in the voice of water surging over rocks.

  “Earthma, why must you mock me? I know that I have lost. I made a bad bargain with you and it will mean my ending.”

  Earthma laughed. “And you made it to protect a Veritean who has abandoned you at the end. Don’t you feel the fool!”

  “Virginia has not abandoned me!”

  “I do not sense her in the site. She is gone, Markon. She has left you to die alone—alone and friendless.”

  Even in his drained state, Markon did not rise to the taunt. He let his weakness, his befuddlement, bubble up in his words.

  “She is gone. Yes. I am alone. You have tricked me.”

  “I can be kind, Markon. Would you like an ending now? Usually death is not mine to give, but when I bring forth my child, you will die. Would you like an end to the weariness?”

  Markon knew the choice was not his, Earthma was simply enjoying giving him the illusion of freedom.

  “End,” he said, and he wept for his dire-cats, his gronhers, his herd-mice, for the tangled trees, the intricate system of underground streams, for the hidden caverns glittering with crystals that no one (not even beloved Virginia) had ever seen.

  “End?” Earthma repeated. “You’re giving up?”

  “No choice,” he managed. “You would not renounce this child of yours. You have borne Death and now I must be lost to Deep Fields.”

  “Perhaps not Deep Fields,” Earthma mused, “for my little one is not yet master there, though lie will be, soon enough.”

  Markon dropped the interface that separated him from his neighbors, urged the dire-cats and herd-mice, all the others with legs and wings to flee. He summoned a great wind and sought to carry the seed proges of the curling willow, the Virginia fern, the angel’s tears, all the other plants, out into the greater reaches of Virtu. Something might survive him.