Incarnations of Immortality

by Anthony, Piers

  "Just a moment," she said, constrained to assert her independence even from this. "You look a lot more comfortable than I am. Give me that axe."

  "Oh, that's not no woman's work, ma'am! I'll do it."

  "That isn't woman's work," she said, annoyed by the double negative.

  "That's what I said!" Then he paused, embarrassed. "Oh—you mean the way I said it. I'm sorry. I'm just a backwoods boy, ma'am, and sorry you had to get stuck with—"

  "What's done is done, Cedric," she said firmly. She wrested the axe from his grip, knowing he could offer no effective resistance to her because she was an adult. She set up a billet and swung at it—and caught the very edge of it. The blade caromed off and plunged into the ground beside her right foot.

  "Uh, ma'am, please—" Cedric said, worried.

  "No, I can do it!" she said, hauling the axe up again in a wobbly trajectory.

  He jumped to intercept her. "Let me help you, ma'am, nooffense."

  "You're afraid I'll break the axe!" she accused him.

  "No ma'am! I'm afraid you'll chop off a toe, and I'd sure hate to have anything like that happen to a foot as dainty as that."

  She relaxed. His diplomacy was effective because it was unschooled. "So would I! I did come close, didn't I? All my incidental studies about trees, and I never split a single blivet of—"

  "Billet, ma'am," he said quickly.

  She had to laugh. "Of course! I don't use the language as well as I supposed!"

  "Oh, no, you talk real fine, ma'am," he said. "Now you take the handle like this, see, and—" He reached around her to put his hands over hers, setting hers properly on the handle. His hands were larger than hers, callused and strong, seeming too big for his body. She wondered whether boys, like puppies, had outsized paws if they were still growing into them. If so, Cedric would in due course be a young giant.

  "How is it your hands are so rough, when your family is scholarly?" she asked thoughtlessly.

  He snatched his hands away. "Oh, you know, fighting," he said, embarrassed.

  Fighting. Well, boys would be boys. "There shouldn't be cause for that here," she informed him gently.

  "No, 'course not," he muttered, scuffling his feet.

  "You were showing me how to chop," she said, taking pity on him.

  He got her grip right and her stance right, then guided her through a swing at the billet. She felt the strength in his arms and body as he moved in contact with her; it was amazing how strong he was for his age. This time the blade came down cleanly, perfectly centered, and cleaved the wood asunder. The halves did not fly apart, as this had not been a fully powered blow, but they offered no further resistance.

  Niobe tried the next one alone, following the procedure he had shown her. Her strike was not sufficient to split the billet, but it was remarkably close to the center. It was a victory of sorts. She owed that, perhaps, to her coordination with the loom; she could generally place an object where she wanted to, when not struggling with too much weight.

  But now the axe was stuck in the wood. She tried to draw it free, but it wouldn't budge. "Just turn it over, heave it up, and hit it backside, ma'am," Cedric advised.

  She did so, struggling to haul up the heavy billet, and brought the head of the axe down on the block. The wood split itself on the blade and fell apart. "Oh, it worked!" she exclaimed, pleased.

  "Sure thing, ma'am," Cedric agreed. "You got a knack for it."

  "I have a knack—" But she realized that she did not want to be lecturing him about language; it was not the wifely way. "No I don't, either! I'm just a duffer. But it is fun!"

  She split wood for several minutes, and soon was warm enough to remove her coat. "If I had known how satisfying it is to split wood, I would have done it long ago," she gasped.

  "You sure look good doin' it," Cedric said.

  "No I don't!" she protested, pleased.

  "Yes you do, ma'am. You're one pretty woman."

  "And you're one bonnie boy. But I'm getting tired; let's go in and get some breakfast."

  "No, I mean it, ma'am. You're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, specially when you move like that."

  She looked down at herself. She was glowing from the exertion, breathing hard, and her nightwear was plastered to her bosom. This was not her notion of feminine beauty, but she was flattered all the same. "And I mean it too, Cedric. You're a young Adonis. When you get your growth, you'll be attracting all the girls." Then she paused, flustered, realizing what she had said. Attract girls? He was already married—to her. She felt the flush climbing her face.

  He did not reply. He stopped to gather an armful of wood, then carried it into the cabin. But she could tell by the flush on his neck that he felt just as embarrassed as she did. He was young and socially inexperienced, but he was a good young man, meaning well. It was as awkward for him as it was for her.

  "Cedric, I—" But what could she say that would not exacerbate the situation? Better to let it drop.

  Inside, she explained about the stove. "Sure, ma'am," he said agreeably. "We use a stove in winter." He showed his expertise in getting it going, making sure the ashes were not clogging the air vents, adjusting the damper in the stovepipe, and carefully building a structure of paper, kindling and wood in the firebox. "Got to start a cold stove slow," he explained. "Don't want it to crack." But soon enough it was producing comforting heat, and Niobe was making pancakes on its surface.

  "You sure know how to cook, ma'am!" Cedric said as he wolfed down his share. He had a huge appetite, as befitted a growing boy.

  "I'm a woman," Niobe said wryly.

  "You sure are!" he agreed enthusiastically.

  She changed the subject. "I gather that you did not want to—to get married?"

  "Pshaw, ma'am, I'm not ready for nothing like that!" he agreed. "I don't know nothing about women. And I wanted to finish school, and get into the track program, so I could maybe make something of myself, you know. But you know how it is when the family decides."

  "I know," she agreed. "I suppose it's no secret that I objected to this—I mean, I didn't even know you, Cedric, just your name and age and that you came from a good family. It's nothing personal—"

  "It's a good family, all right," he agreed. "And so's yours, which is why—you know." He shrugged. "I just wasn't, well, quite ready."

  She found herself liking this honest, unassuming boy. She had an idea. "Look, Cedric—why don't you go to school anyway? We can afford it, and if you really want to get an education—"

  His face brightened. "Say, you mean it, ma'am? You'd let me go?"

  "I would encourage it, Cedric."

  "But you'd be alone here, ma'am, and—"

  "I'll be safe enough. There are no dragons in these forests." She smiled.

  He paused, as if slightly stunned. Her smile had been known to have that effect on men. Then he frowned. "There is magic, though," he said darkly. "Those trees cast spells—"

  "Not against those who understand them," Niobe said. "I have been studying the magic of the wetlands forest. Those trees and plants only want to live and let live. But when you come marching in with an axe—"

  He was startled. "Say, I never thought of that! If I was a tree, I wouldn't like it none neither!" Then he paused. "Say—I know I didn't say that right. Ma'am, would you—"

  "If I were a tree, I would not like it any, either," Niobe said carefully. "Eliminate the double negative."

  "Were, ma'am?"

  "That's the subjunctive mood, used to show supposition. I'm not a tree and never could be, but I'm trying to put myself in the tree's place, so I signal this by saying 'If I were a tree.' To say 'If I was a tree' would be to suggest I might have been a tree in the past, and that would be a misrepresentation."

  "It sure would!" He caught himself. "Certainly would. It certainly makes sense the way you tell it, ma'am."

  "Cedric, you really don't need to call me 'ma'am,'" she said gently.

  "Well, it's a term of respect for an
older—" He broke off.

  Niobe smiled again. "Now we're even, Cedric. I misspoke myself outside, and perhaps you did the same, now. We are in a difficult situation, but we must make the best of it. In time we shall not notice the five-year difference in our ages; it is little enough, really. Were it reversed—"

  "Yeah, the men figure sixteen is prime for a girl," he agreed. "Funny, isn't it!"

  "Perhaps it is a prime age—if a person is not interested in getting a genuine education."

  He turned serious again. "You know, all my family have been smart in—you sure about the school?"

  "I am if you are, Cedric."

  "I certainly am! I want to get smart."

  "Lots of luck," she murmured.

  He winked at her, and she realized he had caught the irony. She blushed, suddenly and hard; he was smart enough to know what she thought of him. "I did it again," she said through her burning face. "I owe you one."

  "No, you already paid me when you told me the subjunctive, ma'am. Oops!"

  She started to laugh, halfway hysterically. He joined her. They both knew it wasn't funny, but it cleared the air somewhat. They finished their breakfast in silence.

  The day warmed rapidly. Niobe dressed and finished with the dishes and straightened up the cabin, for she believed in order. Cedric carried more split wood inside so that there would be no problem the following morning. Then it became awkward again, for they had nothing else to do. This was not normally a problem for the newly married, Niobe knew, so no provision had been made.

  "I can set up my loom," she said. But it didn't seem appropriate, this first day.

  "I can go scout a trail to run on," he said.

  That was right; he had mentioned being interested in track. If he returned to school, he would have the opportunity, so training would be in order. But he, too, was doubtful, knowing that this was not what honeymooners were supposed to be doing.

  "Let me help you," she said. "We can take a walk through the forest, exploring it. I'm eager to verify the local magic."

  He smiled. To take a walk together: that was a suitable occupation. "And leave the axe behind," he said.

  "So as not to frighten the trees," she agreed.

  They walked, and it was beautiful. The foliage had not yet been jaded by the heat of summer, and the bright sunlight kept the mosquitoes at bay. They discovered a path that led down into the swamp, where the bases of the trees became swollen and the green moss climbed high. Now Niobe's expertise in wild magic came into play. She showed him how the huge water oaks of the swamp extended protective spells for the little fish who lived among their roots and helped fertilize them with their droppings, and how the hamadryad, or tree nymph, could be glimpsed if one had the patience to be still and really look for her. "She dies when her tree dies," she explained. "That's why she's so sensitive to the sight of an—" She paused, then spelled it, "A-X-E."

  "She's real pretty," he agreed. "Almost as pretty as you. From now on, I'm not cutting no—not cutting any live wood."

  Niobe felt a warm wash of pleasure. It was foolish, she knew, but she liked being reminded she was beautiful, and nymphs were the standard against which mortals were measured. Nymphs were eternally youthful and supple— as long as their trees were healthy. A woodlands specialist could diagnose the ills of a tree merely by looking at its nymph.

  They went on, getting their feet muddy in the slushy sections of the path. "Maybe we could drain this bog and farm this rich soil," Cedric said.

  "Drain the bog!" Niobe repeated, shocked. "But it's vital to the forest! It's a recharge region for water. It stores excess rainfall and sustains the plants when there's a drought. Without the wetlands, the land would lose many of its best trees, and not just those that grow in it. The water table extends everywhere, and the roots find it—but the wetlands keep the level right."

  Then, in her enthusiasm for the wetlands, Niobe burst into song:

  "I want to waltz in the wetlands,

  The swamps, the marshes and bogs (oh, the bogs).

  Yes, I want to waltz in the wetlands

  With the birds and the fish and the frogs."

  Cedric watched and listened, open-mouthed, until her conclusion:

  "I want to waltz in the wetlands, a place where nature gets by

  And I... will cry... will cry when the wetlands are dry.

  Yes I... will cry... will cry when the wetlands are dry."

  She was so moved herself that the tears were streaming down her face. Cedric seemed awed. "Niobe, I don't want you to cry! I'll never drain the wetlands. Never!"

  She smiled at him, then accepted his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "It's only a song, Cedric."

  "It's only a song," he agreed. "But you—you're special."

  "Thank you," she said, touched. She knew she was not any great singer. The fit had come on her unexpectedly, and she had half expected him to laugh. Obviously he was impressed, and that was very flattering.

  They completed their survey of the region and returned to the cabin. It occurred to her in retrospect that for the first time he had called her by her unadorned name. She wasn't certain how she felt about that, but she had after all made an issue of his calling her "miss" or "ma'am" and certainly he had a right to use her name. He was after all her husband—in name.

  "I'm going to study the wetlands!" he declared abruptly.

  Ah, the impetuosity of youth! "They are worth studying," she agreed carefully. "But of course you shouldn't restrict your interests."

  He just looked at her. She had seen that look in the eyes of the family dog when he had been praised and patted. It was going to take time to adjust completely to this situation.

  Nevertheless, they felt more comfortable with each other now. Niobe fixed their meals from the stores in the cabin, and when these were depleted, Cedric hiked into town to buy more and haul them back in his knapsack. He liked to hike; he was a very physical person, with the burgeoning energy of youth. But they also played games together, including a contest of riddles. She quickly discovered that he had a remarkably agile mind and could best her readily at this sort of thing. She fed him the riddle that had stymied her family for years: it concerned six men trying to cross a river using a boat for two, with certain conditions. He solved it immediately, as if it wasn't even a challenge. He also caught on to the nuances of correct speaking so rapidly that he was soon perfect. She could understand, now, why his family had a scholarly tradition.

  Meanwhile, he showed her how to manage the physical things, such as stacking wood for the winter so that it wouldn't rot and emptying the base of the outhouse. But she continued to sleep on the bed, and he on the hearth; there was no physical romance between them.

  In two weeks Niobe came to know Cedric very well and continued to be impressed by his superior qualities. He was a strong and smart youth, with an amiable disposition and good potential—but he was a youth. He was also her husband. Niobe knew she could not send him away to college without consummating the marriage. But how was she to go about it? She had no experience in this aspect, and no great inclination. Still, it was evident that Cedric was not going to initiate the matter; he treated her with a respect bordering on worship. So it was up to her. "Cedric," she said one pleasant afternoon. He met her gaze, then looked away shyly. "Ah, Niobe, and has it come to that now?" At times he seemed almost to read her mind.

  "When the honeymoon is over, my mother will ask me, and your father will ask you. For the news."

  He sighed. "That they will. But I am not so naive as to think I could force my attention on a woman who doesn't love me."

  He had an excellent grasp of the fundamentals and he expressed them well. "Oh? You have been loved before?"

  He shook his head, embarrassed. "Never. I lack experience."

  "So do I," she admitted.

  "But you are supposed to lack it!"

  She had to laugh. "Cedric, I am sure that had you been permitted to wait until you could marry at my age, you would h
ave had it. But I hardly condemn you for this particular lack. It means you come to me—pristine."

  "I'm only sixteen," he reminded her defensively. "Aye, there's talk among boys, but I'll wager I'm not the only one who never—" He shrugged.

  "Of course," she agreed quickly. "A double standard is hypocrisy. It is best that a man and a woman come to—" She hesitated. "To learn together."

  "It is hard to—" He, too, hesitated. "If you loved me as I love you, it would be—" He faltered as he saw her react, then blushed.

  "What did you say, Cedric?"

  "'Twas a slip o' th' tongue," he said, slipping back into his idiom as he reddened further. "I apologize."

  "You apologize—for loving your wife?"

  "But you know," he said miserably. "It isn't real!"

  "The marriage, or your love?"

  He scuffed his foot. "Oh, you know. You're such a fine woman, so lovely I get lightheaded just from looking at you, and you know so much, you're so poised, you deserve so much better, and you certainly didn't ask for this. I don't want to make it worse for you. I'm just a kid."

  Niobe, her pulse racing, focused on the single thing. "When? When did you know you loved me?"

  He shrugged, as if passing it off as something beneath notice. "That first day—when you sang in the swamp. When you cried for the wetlands. I never heard anything so—" He spread his hands, lacking a word.

  "But I'm not even a good singer!"

  "You believe!'" he said seriously. "You really do love the wetlands—and I do too, now, because of you. What you love, I love."

  "Cedric, you never said—"

  "And make another fool of myself?" he asked with mild bitterness. "And maybe drive you away? Because here's this gangling boy mooning over you? I'm not that stupid."

  "Cedric, you aren't stupid at all! You're a fine lad—a fine young man! I'm sure that—"

  "Please, can't we just forget it?"

  "No, we can't! Cedric, I can't claim I love you—that sort of thing is more gradual with a woman, and—"

  "And there has to be a man."

  "Cedric!"

  He just looked at her, and looked away. She knew there was no way to make him lose sight of the truth: that she didn't see him as a man.