His brother laughed and playfully poked him in the ribs. "If there isn't, what's been stealing our unicorns?"
Jack looked past his brother. "Besides, a siren told me she'd talked to the very one that's been raiding our pens. In fact, here she comes now. Ask her if it isn't so."
Tony grimaced and said, "Guess I'll be going back, Jack."
Absently his brother nodded, his attention on the swaying figure approaching. She was carrying a tear-shaped vase.
Tony narrowed his eyes, curled his lip, and slipped off through the trees.
"Hello, Jack," said R'li in English.
"Hello," he answered in child-talk.
She smiled as if she saw something significant in his using that tongue. He glanced at the amphora she was holding by one of its handles.
"Going to get some honey?"
"Obviously."
Jack looked around. No one in sight. "I'll go with you. The plowing can wait. I'm afraid if I went back just now, I'd be tempted to kill those beasts."
She hummed the tune to the latest song to reach the county. " 'Hitch your dragon to a plow.' "
"I wish I could."
He removed hat, jacket, socks, and boots and began splashing creek water on himself. The siren stuck the sharp end of the amphora into soft mud. She waded into the creek and sat down.
"If you weren't so body-conscious, you could do the same," she teased.
He glanced around and said, "It does seem ridiculous. When I'm with you, that is."
"I'm surprised to hear you admit that."
"Well, I didn't really mean it. Men need clothes, but it's all right for you horstels to go naked."
"Ah, yes, we're animals. . . who have no souls -- whatever those are. Jack, do you remember when we were children, and you used to sneak down to the pool and swim with us? You didn't wear pants then."
"I was a kid!"
"True, but you weren't as innocent as you pretend. We used to laugh at you, not because you were nude, but because you thought you were so terribly wicked and because you were so obviously delighted with your sense of sin.
"Your parents had forbidden it. If they'd caught you, your beating would have been something to remember."
"I know. But when they told me I couldn't do it, I had to. Besides, it was fun."
"Then you weren't really convinced you should be ashamed of your body. Now I think you are. You've allowed others to convince you.
"But then," she added, "I can understand why your women put on garments. They use them more to conceal their defects than to enhance their beauty."
"Don't be catty."
"I'm not. I think it's the truth."
He stood up and put on his hat and picked up his clothes. "Before I go, R'li, tell me this, will you? Why did you give me all claim to the 'pearl?"
Rising, she waded up to him. Each drop of water on her breasts gleamed like a little glass universe with a tiny sun imprisoned in its center. Streams fell from the soaked tresses of the horsetail and splashed upon the sand. She spread the long hairs along her left arm and held them up to the light. Shimmering veins of yellow and red ran with sun.
Her purple-blue eyes looked up at his brown eyes. Her right hand made the familiar gesture toward him. It stopped. He glanced down at it. His hand reached out and took hers.
She didn't pull back. She followed the gentle but firm insistence of his hand and came into his arms.
A week later, the army wagon train was raided. It was nine in the evening when the HK put on satyr costumes. Their disguise would fool no one in a strong light, nor any who looked closely in a weak light. They weren't worried. They were dressing so mainly to give the Queen's men a chance to accuse the local cadmen.
When they approached the Full Glass Tavern, they found it blazing with light. Indoors, the soldiers were tossing off steins or rolling dice. The wagons were lined up behind the barn. A sergeant was supervising the hitching up of fresh teams. He did not even look up when the first of the raiders stepped from behind the barn.
Overpowering the men on duty was easy. The fake satyrs rushed from the darkness. They surrounded the surprised privates and silenced them, encountering amazingly little resistance. Or, thought Jack as he gagged one of the fellows, was it so amazing?
No roar of discovery came from the inn, despite the unavoidable creak and groan of axle, the snort and clatter of beast, and the rumble of wheel. Once on the road, the raiders threw aside caution and lashed out at the teams. Only then did the tavern door burst open and men, still with steins or money in hand, stagger out to shout and curse.
Jack thought they were poor actors. Their oaths were weak, and he could have sworn he heard several bellow with laughter.
All in all, during the long dash back, he felt anything but brave and daring. He was disappointed because he had not had to draw his Bendglass rapier. Recently he had wanted to strike out at somebody or something. A gray and heavy mass was riding his back, and though he squirmed and kicked, he could not get it off.
Even during his infrequent meetings with R'li, he could not be altogether free of that smoldering rage. Too many of their words were like those of the first time he and R'li had kissed.
He remembered them well. He had gasped out that he loved her, he loved her, and he didn't care who knew it, who knew it.
He'd strained her to him and swore he meant it.
Right now you do, yes. But you know it's impossible. Church, State, Folk bar you.
I won't let them.
There's one way. Come with me.
Where?
To the Thrruk.
I can't do that.
Why not?
Leave my parents? Break their hearts? Betray the girl I'm promised to? Be excommunicated?
If you really loved me, you'd go.
Ah, R'li, you say that so easily. You're not a man.
If you went over the mountains with me to the valley you'd have more than just me. You'd become what you'll never be in Dyonisa.
What's that?
A complete man.
I don't understand you.
You'd become more balanced, more psychically integrated. The unconscious part of you would work hand in hand with the conscious. You'd not be chaotic, childish, out of tune.
I still don't know what you mean.
Come with me. To the valley where I spent three years going through the rites of passage. There you'll be among people who are whole. You're a ragged man, Jack. That's what the word panor means in our language as applied to humankind. The ragged. The collection of pieces.
So I'm a scarecrow. Thanks.
Be angry, if it helps you. But I'm not insulting you. I mean that you don't know your powers. They're hidden from you. By others, and by yourself, yourself playing hide-and-go-seek with yourself. Refusing to see the real you.
If you're so -- whole -- why love me? I'm -- ragged.
Jack, potentially you're as strong and complete as any horstel. You could, in the Thrruk, become what you should be. Any human may if he'd tear down that barrier of hate and fear and learn what we so painfully took centuries to do.
And give up all I've got now to do it?
Give up what needs to be given up. The best, the good, keep. But don't decide what is the best until you've gone with me.
I'll think about it.
Do it now!
I'm tempted.
Walk off. Leave the animals tied to the tree, the plow in its furrow. No goodbyes. Just walk off. With me.
I -- I can't. It's this way. . .
Please don't make excuses.
Since then, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling that he'd turned back from a path to many glories. For a while he'd tried to convince himself that he had uttered a Retrocede, Sathanas! In a few days he was honest enough to tell himself he lacked courage. If he really loved, as she had said, he'd throw aside all to go with her. Forsaking all others, cleave unto. . .
But that applied to marriage, and he could never enter into
holy matrimony with her.
He loved her. Did a man in robes have to say words over them? He must think so, for he hadn't gone with her. And she had said that the test of his love was whether or not he'd go with her.
He hadn't.
Therefore, he didn't love her.
But he did.
He struck the wagon seat with his fist. He did!
"What the hell you doing that for?" said young How, sitting next to him.
"Nothing!"
"You get the maddest over nothing," chuckled How. "Here. Take a nip of this."
"No, thanks. I don't feel like it."
"Your tough luck. Well, cheers. Ahh! By the way, did you notice that Josh Mowrey wasn't with us?"
"No."
"Well, Chuckswilly did, and he was raising hell about it. Nobody knew where he was. Or at least they pretended they didn't. But I know.''
Jack grunted.
''Aren' t you interested? "
"Vaguely."
"Man, do you feel bad! I'll tell you, anyway. Ed Wang detailed Josh to watch the cadmuses on your farm!"
Jack came alive. "Why?"
"Ed thinks Polly hasn't left there yet." How chuckled and uptilted the flask. He lashed the woolly backs of the unicorns, and when the wagon had gained speed, shouted above the noise, "Ed's as stubborn a young'un as there is. He and Chuckswilly'll clash again."
"Chuckswilly will kill him."
"Maybe. If Ed doesn't slip a copperwood into his ribs. He is acting humble now, but he remembers those lost teeth."
"Who're we fighting? Horstels? Or each other?"
"Difference of opinion must be settled before you can have a plan of action."
"Tell me, How, whose side are you on?"
"I don't care. I'm just waiting for the day the big fight comes."
He took another long swallow and then looked at Jack. Jack wondered if How meant to attack him. He'd seen that tight-lidded expression before.
"Want to know something, Jack? HK-Day is going to see a lot of property change hands. Horstels and loot-crazy humans are going to. . . uh. . . dispose. . . of some people. When that day comes. . ."
He lifted the flask again and said, "I may become Lord How soon. Of course, grief-stricken, I'll erect a monument to my poor old father, struck down in the bloody turmoil of The Day.''
Jack said. "No wonder your father thinks he's whelped a fat, stupid, good-for-nothing hound."
"Watch your tongue, Cage. When I'm Baron How, I'll not forget my enemies."
He threw the empty flask away. The reins were loose in his hands, and the unicorns, sensing the loss of control, slowed down.
"You think you're so damned intelligent, Cage, I'm going to show you you're not. A little while ago, I lied when I said I didn't care who became top dog in the HK. Heeeh! I always lie. Just to mix people up. Anyway, I know something you don't. About that crazy Wang and that big-eyed piece O'Brien. And that arrogant commoner, Chuckswilly, too."
"What's that?"
How shook a finger and waggled his jowls. "Not so fast. Beg."
How reached into his coat pocket and brought out another flask. Jack gripped him by his collar and jerked him closer. "Tell me now, or you'll wish you had!"
How gripped the flask by its neck and raised it to strike Jack. Jack chopped against How's bull neck with the edge of his hand. How fell over backward into the wagon, where he was seized by those riding there.
Jack picked up the reins and called back, "Is he dead?"
"Still breathing."
Some of the men chuckled. Jack felt better. When his hand had lashed out, it had seemed to discharge much of his repressed fury. The only thing that bothered him was what How had been hinting at.
Daring the six miles from Black Cliff to Slashlark, the teams were not spared. Jack wondered how they could keep up their pace. By the time they reached the county capital, they would be foundered. And after that they'd have to take a mile detour around the town so the wagons wouldn't be seen. That'd make seven miles, after which they'd have to pull the wagons another seven to the Cage farm. There the wagons would be taken into the barn, and the weapons would be buried under a mound of last year's hay. But would the unicorns hold up?
A half mile out of Slashlark, Chuckswilly ordered a halt. It was then that Jack, like any of the raiders, found he wasn't in on all the planning.
Men, holding torches, stepped from the forest, unhitched the blowing, foam-specked beasts, and harnessed fresh ones. Chuckswilly ordered the raiders to strip off their satyr costumes and put on their clothes.
While they were changing, How crawled out of the wagon. He rubbed his neck and blinked in the torchlight.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You fell and knocked yourself out," somebody said.
"Wasn't I talking to you, Jack, when it happened?"
"Yes."
"What'd I say?"
"Your usual drivel."
"Ha! Ha!"
How quit frowning and looking uneasily at Ed, who'd been standing near by. How grinned and slapped Ed on the shoulder. "See, Ed! It's all right."
"Shut your mouth," growled Ed. He turned and walked off into the darkness.
Jack gazed speculatively at his back. His cousin had that crazy wild look. What was he up to?
The wagon train started again. It passed the stretch of road that curved to the west of Slashlark. Abruptly the range of hills that blocked their view of town sloped away to a plain. They came back to the main highway, the one that followed the Bigfish until it ran into Squamous Creek. There, two hundred yards south of the bridge, the wagon stopped.
Chuckswilly said, "Here's where most of us go home. The drivers will go on to the Cages' and will sleep there tonight. I'm staying there, too. We'll need some extra men, however, to help unload."
Details arranged, the men not going on slipped away into the night. Those who lived near by walked; those whose homes were distant got into carriages that had been waiting all night.
The dark man drove the lead wagon, How the second, Wang the third. Jack did not know who the other drivers were.
The bridge rumbled. The men looked to see if the Watcher would awake and stick his head from a window of the tower. They breathed easier when they'd passed the tall stone structure without a sign that those within had been disturbed. At that moment, a lantern flashed from the creekbank. The Watcher was walking toward them, a long slender pole over one shoulder and a wicker basket hung from his side. It was the men's bad luck that the horstel was just returning from an all-night fishing trip.
Jack turned to stare behind him. Wang had stopped his wagon, holding up the procession, and was jumping off. He carried a glass-tipped javeline.
Jack tore the reins from How, halted the beasts, and shouted, "Hey, Chuckswilly!"
Chuckswilly also stopped. When he saw what was happening, he howled, "You fool! Get back on your seat and get going!"
Wang yelled shrilly. Not at his chief. At the satyr. He threw the javeline without breaking his stride.
Awm dropped the lantern and pole and fell to the ground. The javelin shot over his head into the night. Immediately, Awm jumped up and threw his lantern. As Wang was running forward, knife in hand, and could not dodge in time, the lantern bounced off his head. Wang went down. The glass of the lantern broke; oil spread in a flaming pool; it licked at the head of the unconscious form. The Watcher disappeared into the blackness of the trees.
"Ah, the bloody fool!" said Chuckswilly. "I ought to let him burn.''
Nevertheless, he grabbed Ed's feet and pulled him away from the fire.
Ed sat up. He held his hand to his mouth. "What happened?"
"Bloody, blasted dunderhead! Why'd you attack him?"
Unsteadily, Ed rose. "I didn't want any horstel witnesses."
"And so now you've one for sure. Wang, I gave no orders. Do I have to knock out every tooth in your head?"
Ed replied sullenly, "I think Awm's done that." He removed his hand from h
is face and revealed a bloodied mouth. Two teeth came out, and he wiggled a third, loose in its socket.
"Too bad he didn't kill you. Consider yourself under arrest. Get back in your wagon. Turk, you drive it. Knockonwood, watch Wang. If he does anything out of the way, run him through."
"Yes, sir."
A door slammed. The men looked at the tower. Sounds came as of a bar being shot through a slot. Voices floated to them. A torch lit up a slit-like second-story window.
Ed said, "While we've been standing here, Awm has sneaked around and gotten home! We'll never take him now!"
The windows in the third, fourth, and fifth floors blazed and then became dark again as the Watcher climbed the spiraling stairs. The sixth remained lighted. Presently, against the moon, a long rod was pushed up from the roof.
Jack couldn't determine the color, but he guessed it was made of the expensive copper. From time to time, he'd seen those poles extended from the Watchers' homes or from the cadmus cones. What they were, he didn't know, but he supposed they were used in the horstels' black magic.
Seeing one come up now, like the horn of a demon, made him uneasy. Wang was close to panic. His eyes bulged, and they swiveled from side to side.
Chuckswilly said, "Enough damage's been done. Let's roll."
He turned to go.
Ed stopped over and picked up a fist-size rock. Before Jack could do more than cry a protest, Ed had leaped for the chiefs back.
Chuckswilly must have had the sensitivity of a horstel, for he'd started to turn back even before Jack yelled. His hand was darting for his rapier hilt. The rock caught him on his temple, and he went down on his face.
Instantly, Ed drew the chiefs blade and held its point close to Jack's chest. Jack stopped.
"This happened a little sooner than I thought it would," shrilled Ed. "It makes no difference. George, tie his hands. Tappan, truss Chuckswilly up and put him in your wagon. Be sure to gag him, too."
Jack said, "What's going on?"
Ed's bloodied lips opened in a gap-toothed smile. "Just a little scheme of mine, Cuz. We young bloods don't care for Chuckswilly's supercautious handling. We want action. Now. And I'm not going to allow anybody to stand between Polly and me.
"So I got twenty-five men, real men, to agree to attack your cadmen tonight. Chuckswilly thought they all went home, but they didn't. They're just hanging back."
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