by Glen Cook
If we kept going this general direction for a few hours we could drop in on the Contague estate.
Although I know better intellectually, emotionally I feel like the deadly wilderness is clamoring at the city gate, all carnivorous or poisonous plants and animals, most of them bigger and faster than me, while the air is so full of man-eating bugs that you don't dare breathe deep. In reality, most of the countryside near TunFaire is well tamed. If it wasn't it wouldn't be able to feed the city. The exceptions are some bits unsuited for exploitation or which the wealthy and powerful have set aside as hunting reserves or whatnot. The rare incursions of thunder lizards, mammoths, or even bears or giant ground sloths, are just that: rare. But they sure do get talked about plenty.
Marsha said, "We maybe need to take a sleep break first if we're really going to go out there, Garrett."
He had a point. A good point. Or, at least, a damned good excuse for us not to go wandering around the wilderness in the dark. Even if we were only a few hours behind our friends.
44
Wilderness is relative. Before sunrise we were in wild country compared to where I live. But we were in a carefully tamed and only mildly unkempt park compared to the places where I fought my share of the war.
Of course, this was the worst nightmare wilderness Singe had ever seen. She couldn't take ten steps without stopping to sniff the morning air for the warning stench of approaching monsters. I kept after her to move faster. "The quicker we get there the quicker we get it over with and the quicker we get back to town. You don't want to spend the night out here, do you?" But instinct is hard to overcome. I prove that every time I get too close to Belinda Contague. "Besides, the grolls can handle anything we're likely to meet."
Dojango had been yakking all morning, inconsequentialities. Typical of him, actually. So much so that nobody paid him the least attention. Though Doris did drag him out of the cart and have him pull it as one way of slowing his jaw down.
"Wait a minute," I said. "What was that?"
Because Dojango's mouth runs with no real connection to his brain he just chomped air for a minute. What might he have said that could interest me? He hadn't been listening. Then he went into mild shock because somebody was interested in something that he'd said. "Uh, I don't remember, actually."
"About the thing you saw in the sky."
"Oh. That happened while you were all asleep, actually."
When the time had come we'd all just planted ourselves at streetside, grolls on the flanks, and started snoring. We hadn I been bothered.
Size does matter.
Dojango continued, "I decided I'd stand watch on account of all of the rest of you were out like the dead."
He was fibbing. He hadn't been able to sleep because he'd spent all that time snoozing in the cart. It's easy to tell when Dojango is revising history. He forgets to use his favorite word.
"And?"
"And a ball of light came in out of the east, from beyond the river. It went somewhere south of us. It stopped for a while. I could see the glow. Then it came north, slowly, drifting back and forth over Grand Avenue. I had a feeling it was looking for something, actually."
"And it came to a stop up above us?"
"Yeah. After a while it shined a really bright light down on us. And that's all I remember." He shuddered, though. So there was something more.
"What else?"
He didn't want to talk about it but Dojango Rose is incapable of resisting an invitation to speak. "Just a really bad dream where the light lifted me up and took me inside the glow, into a weird, lead-gray place. They did really awful things to me, these weird, shiny little women. This one wouldn't leave my thing alone."
"I see." He'd healed wondrous fast if he'd been tortured. "Something to keep in mind." I did some thinking. Some consideration of the circumstances. I came up with some ideas.
The first time we approached a sizable woodlot which boasted enough tangled undergrowth to suggest that it wasn't used much I had Doris and Marsha carry the cart and its cargo deep inside and camouflage it with branches.
Dojango cried like a baby.
"I guarantee you I don't have a whole lot of sympathy, buddy. Why don't you use your sore feet to make the rest of you mad enough to smack some of those elves around when we catch up with them?"
That bought me a respite. Dojango Rose is a lover, not a fighter. He probably heard his mother calling but couldn't run away as long as his brothers stuck it out.
We passed gated estates. The grolls attracted considerable attention. Most of the guards were friendlier than they might have been had I tried to engage them in conversation on my own. Doris and Marsha make a convincing argument just standing around, leaning on their clubs.
Some of those guards had seen Saucerhead and Playmate go by. But not a one had seen Kayne Prose. Or any other willowy blonde. Tharpe and Playmate had been bickering, according to several witnesses. They were, also, not making very good time. We were still only a few hours behind them despite our pause to enjoy a stone mattress.
"We keep on with this and we're going to find ourselves out in the real country pretty soon," I observed. We were past the truck gardens and wheatfields and starting up the slope into wine country. Ahead the hills started growing up. Fast.
We popped over a ridgeline, me cursing the day Kayne met Kip's pop and, even more bloodily, the day I let myself get into debt to Playmate. "Whoa! There it is. That's perfect."
"There what is?" Dojango asked. I'd stopped. He'd sat down. He had one boot off already.
"That bowl of land down there. Filled with trees. It has a pond in there. You can see the water. Runs down off all these hills. Looks like a great hiding place. Bet you that's where—"
Some sort of flash happened under the trees. A dark brown smoke ring rolled up through the foliage. There was a rumble like a very large troll clearing his throat.
"That was different," Dojango said. He levered his other boot off.
"My guess is, our friends just found the elven sorcerers."
Nobody rushed off to help. Dojango massaged his blisters and distinctly looked like he'd rather head some other direction. Any other direction.
Singe had the sensibilities of a soldier. "If we can see what is happening down there, then whoever is down there can see what is happening up here."
"Absolutely." I responded by dropping into the shade of a split rail fence. The Rose boys didn't need the whole speech, either. The big ones made themselves as scarce as possible on an open road that ran downhill through a vineyard where the plants were seldom more than hip high. To me. Dojango rolled into a ditch.
A look around showed me a countryside not made for sneaking. The wooded bowl was entirely surrounded by vineyards. I could cover some ground on hands and knees amongst the vines but there wasn't a whole lot of cover for guys twenty feet tall.
And there were people out working the vineyards. Some not that far from us, eyeing us askance because of our odd behavior. Before long most of the workers began to amble downhill to see what was going on.
"There's our cue, people. Look like you've got grape skins between your toes."
Dojango began to whine in earnest. Once out of his boots his feet had swollen. He couldn't get them back on.
It was real. We'd have to leave him behind. Which was just as well, actually. Dojango has a talent for screwing things up by getting underfoot when times begin to get exciting.
I told him, "We'll pick you up on the way back."
He didn't act like his feelings were hurt.
45
Most of the vineyard workers reached the wood well before we did. Which was fine by me. Because something unpleasant was going on in amongst the trees. Something flashy, noisy, then smoky. Another doughnut of brown smoke rolled up out of the trees.
The vineyard people decided they wanted no part of that. They went scooting right back up the hills. Not a one was interested in wasting valuable running time gawking at my odd company.
> At a guess I'd say people in the area had had bad experiences down there before.
Once you penetrated the dozen yards of dense brush and brambles on the outer perimeter of the wood you found yourself in a perfectly groomed, parklike grove. Without undergrowth. With grass almost like a lawn. With a pond an acre in size, somewhat off center to the west. And with a big silver discus thing smack in the middle, standing eight feet above the grass on spindly metal legs. A flimsy ladder rose from the grass to an opening in the disk's belly. A silver elf lay at the foot of that, unconscious or dead. Likewise, one Saucerhead Tharpe, right hand gripping the elf's ankle, whose scattered attitude suggested that he'd been dragged back out of the discus.
I saw nothing to explain the brown smoke rings, nor all the racket we'd heard while we were coming down the hill.
The wood was perfectly still now. Not a bird had a word to say. Not a bug sang one bar to his ladylove. A few leaves did stir in the breeze but they kept their voices down. The only sounds to be heard were the distant, excited voices of vineyard workers who had decided they were far enough away to slow down and gossip.
When I stopped and counted them up in my head I doubted that there'd been more than a dozen workers, total.
We four froze with the moment, some listening, some sniffing. I turned slowly, trying to get a direction for the sense of presence I'd begun to feel.
I whispered to Singe, "The Casey creature is here in the grove somewhere. Can you scent him?"
"The odors here are very strange, Garrett. I am confused. I do scent something that might be Casey but I cannot locate him."
A breeze stirred the leaves and branches. My eye kept going to an oddity of shadow that didn't stir with everything else. I examined it from the corners of my eyes. I squinted, right and left and direct. I moved several times so I could try everything from a variety of angles. Several times the dance of bright sunlight and deep leaf shadow made me think that I had glimpsed something that might have been Kayne Prose crumpled up beside a stump, trapped inside something like a heat shimmer. When I concentrated I discovered a shadow being cast onto the ground by something not apparent to the naked eye.
I looked left and right. Nothing told me why the vineyard hands had run for it. Nothing told me where Playmate might be now. Nothing indicated the current whereabouts of the three silver elves not sprawled underneath their silvery discus. Nothing told me much of anything.
I drifted toward the shadow that shouldn't have been, beckoning Marsha to follow, laying a finger to my lips. I got a few more glimpses of Kayne Prose. She didn't appear to be awake. The invisibility spell keeping her unseen was sputtering and maybe needed a little punching up from somebody who'd had enough schooling to know what they were doing.
The spell did a whole lot of nothing to fool my sense of touch.
I got Marsha down on his knees, guided his hands. "That's his head. You hang on in case he wakes up. If he does, let him know who's in control. Without killing him, if possible."
"Gotcha."
I began the task of frisking and disrobing a body I couldn't see. The stripping part didn't go well at all.
A totally bedraggled imitation Kayne Prose materialized suddenly. In the same moment Singe said, "Gleep! Where did Garrett go?"
Inasmuch as I had not gone anywhere I gazed with suspicion at the small gray fetish I'd just taken off Casey. "Singe. Come over here." When she arrived I put the device into her paw. She vanished. I assume I reappeared. "Now you're invisible. Hang on to that. It might come in handy."
"Nobody can see me? Whoo! Ha-ha! What I could do with this!"
"What couldn't we all do? Why don't you sneak over there and see if Saucerhead is still breathing?" I had a recollection of having turned up horizontal myself a few times after running into these elves. Only they hadn't knocked themselves out, too, those times.
I couldn't see Singe but she did still cast some shadow when she stepped into the light. She said, "Mr. Playmate must have climbed up the ladder."
"Singe! Don't go in there!"
My last two words even I couldn't hear over the Crump! as a sudden ring of brown smoke blew down off the bottom of the discus. The smoke hit the ground, ricocheted back upward, into the sky. It seemed much less substantial than had the earlier clouds.
"Singe? You all right?"
A ratlike squeak resolved itself into, "Garrett? Can you hear me? I cannot hear right now. But otherwise I am all right. I am going to finish climbing the ladder now."
"You damned fool! That's what just—"
"I found Mr. Playmate. He is right inside here. Out cold. Lying on a metal floor with two more elves. One has a broken arm. At least it is bent the wrong way."
Meanwhile, on the ground, I was continuing to make sure that Casey and the other unconscious elf wouldn't be able to go anywhere when they woke up. "Let's see if we can't get this costume off this one." I'd given up trying to strip Casey. And to Singe, "That's a good job, Singe. Don't go wandering around in there. Singe?"
She didn't respond.
The girl was getting a little too sure of herself. "Would one of you guys reach up in there and drag Playmate out?"
Doris had taken over trying to get Casey's silver suit off him so Marsha crawled under the discus. It was a tight fit. He ended up twisting himself around so he was seated on the grass, his head and shoulders inside the opening. "Gosh, Garrett, it's weird in here." A moment later he dropped an elf.
"Hey! You damned near hit me with that." I was having no luck stripping the elf who had fallen with Saucerhead. The new arrival didn't look like he'd be any easier.
"Here comes the one with the broken arm. You might want to take him so he don't get hurt any worse."
I jumped up just in time to grab the body Marsha handed down.
The elf weighed hardly anything at all.
"Hey, Garrett! Look at this."
I turned. Doris was standing up, his top half up in the foliage. He seemed to be looking back up the hill that we had descended to get to this adventure. I shed my burden, skipped a dozen yards to a point where I could see the hillside myself.
I thought the vineyard workers would be up to something. But they were just making tracks.
Instead, Dojango was in deep sludge. But he hadn't noticed yet.
46
It was kind of funny, actually, because he didn't see it coming until after Doris and I began watching. He was, probably, just sitting there throwing pebbles at grasshoppers and congratulating himself on having gotten out of all the work when he spotted the glowing balls. By that time they'd bracketed him and were descending.
Doris said, "Maybe he didn't make up all that shit about them pulling him inside and doing something to him. They sure didn't have no trouble finding him again, did they? Even after we ditched that cart and all that magical stuff."
"An excellent observation, brother." I watched Dojango jump up, try to run in several directions, all of which turned out to be blocked as soon as he chose them. He never stopped trying though, like a squirrel in a box trap. While prancing on stones because his tender feet were bare.
I noted that the vineyard workers were trying to make themselves seem scarce while they watched, too.
Once the balls of light were on the ground they faded to become three eggs of lead-gray metal with little in the way of exterior features.
I said, "We can probably expect their company in a few minutes. We'd better roll up our sleeves and get ready." Playmate came flopping down out of the discus. Marsha started dragging him away. I said, "Hide all these people in the woods. Under the brush, maybe. Then get yourselves out of sight. Where is that girl?" I hopped over the foot of the ladder. "Singe!"
Singe didn't respond.
I said, "On second thought, leave Saucerhead and Playmate lying out in the open. This guy, too." I used a toe to nudge the silver elf lying nearest the ladder. "That'll give them something to focus on. So they'll maybe overlook the rest of us. You guys hide. Take whatever steps s
eem appropriate."
Gritting my teeth, I reached out and touched the metal ladder. Quick and cautious, using just the tip of one finger.
Nothing happened.
Not even a hint of brown smoke.
47
The ladder took me up into a small metal room that was maybe ten feet across. Its ceiling was five feet high. I had to move in a stoop that started my back aching in moments. At its extremities the room's floor conformed to the external curve of the discus. The room itself seemed suitable only for storage.
"Singe?"
My voice sounded strange in that place.
Singe didn't answer me.
"Don't be playing games just because you're invisible."
Still no answer.
The back side of the ladder went on up to another level. I swung around there, looked up.
There did seem to be an opening—which was closed. Mostly closed. A bit of fabric had gotten caught in a gap where the closure abutted the head of the ladder. The lighting was poor but the fabric resembled that of Singe's shirt.
I pushed. Nothing gave but the muscles in my back. I tried again, twisting. The closure slid sideways an inch. I thought I had it now. I pushed and twisted some more. The crack widened a few more inches, then wouldn't respond to any effort I made.
I tried to look through the crack. I couldn't see anything but nothing. I followed up by snaking a cautious hand in to feel around. Nobody stomped on my fingers. It's a wonderful life when the highlight of your working day is that nobody stomped on your fingers.
I felt around some more. It seemed that the main reason the entry wouldn't open any farther was that Singe was lying on it. Getting her off proved to be a challenge. But I was up to it. I was a trained, veteran Royal Marine.
Eventually I slithered through the gap. Singe was lying in plain sight, mostly on another metal floor like the one below. This room was perfectly round, with another ceiling that had to be uncomfortably low even for the elves who used it. One of those was slumped in one of four chairs gracing the room. The chairs were all fixed to the floor.