Every Wind of Change

by Frank Tuttle

  “Hello,” Meralda said. “We mean you no harm.”

  The jabberwock’s beak clacked. It reached up with its right hand, opened its beak, and coughed.

  Its neck distended, as something rose up it. It coughed again, and spat a deck of worn, oversized cards into its clawed fist.

  It shuffled the cards, talons moving precisely and so quickly they were merely a blur. When it was done, it held the deck upright, fanned the cards, and held them out to Meralda, waiting.

  The backs of the cards were uniform. Each was inky black, decorated in shades of red and orange with symbols Meralda could not identify. Trying to project confidence she certainly didn’t feel, Meralda reached out and took a card at random, withdrawing it slowly.

  The jabberwock lowered its hand. Meralda was wondering what to do next when the jabberwock spoke.

  “The Queen of Wands,” it said, its beak not moving. Its voice was female, and oddly melodious, more sung than spoken. “Thus, you are named.”

  “Queen of Wands,” Meralda replied, when the silence lingered. “Thank you. I am honored to meet you. I hope we can be friends.”

  “May I have your last breath?” sang the jabberwock, its slitted pupils expanding. “May I, Queen of Wands?”

  Donchen poked her gently in the back, out of the jabberwock’s sight.

  “I must respectfully decline to offer such.” Meralda felt as if a finger made of ice ran slowly down her back. “I hope I have not given offense.”

  The jabberwock took Meralda’s card. It shuffled it into the deck before turning to Donchen.

  Meralda sagged, relieved. She could hear Mr. Gliff speaking softly at the dragon’s glass but could not make out every word. He seemed to be explaining they’d been asleep for a long time, and that everything had changed. His tone was gentle and sad, as though he were bringing bad news to a child.

  “It is an honor to make the acquaintance of such a striking person.” Donchen executed a bow that brought his face perilously close to those bony claws. His smile was effortless, and if he was afraid, not a hint of it showed on his face. “We shall make every effort to see you home.”

  The jabberwock made a wistful whistling sound. Then it fanned its cards and offered them to Donchen.

  Donchen selected a card, holding it proudly up to the jabberwock.

  “The Knight of Swords,” replied the gaunt creature. “May I have your last breath?” it asked, with the same inflections and tone it spoke to Meralda. “May I, Knight of Swords?”

  Donchen’s smile never wavered. “Alas, no, my last breath, and my heart, belongs to another.” The jabberwock took his card. “But I offer you my friendship, instead.”

  The jabberwock trilled sadly, and then it turned its gaze upon Mug.

  “Oh no.” Mug backed away. “Forget it, lady. I don’t even breathe, strictly speaking—”

  “Mug, don’t insult our large and imposing new friend,” Meralda said quickly. “It’s just a card and a few words. Please?”

  “Friend Mug, I urge you to listen,” said Donchen, who saw the jabberwock’s talons slide an inch further from its fingers. “We came to no harm, after all.”

  Mug grumbled but flew his cage to the jabberwock. “Fine. I’m Mug, already have a name, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  The jabberwock’s trilling took on a more sibilant quality, and Mug fell suddenly silent.

  It fanned its cards. Mug tapped the top of one with a long green vine. “This one.”

  The jabberwock took the card from the deck with its left hand. “Keeper of Souls. May I have your last breath? May I, Keeper of Souls?”

  “No, no thank you, and again no, just for good measure. I’ll be off, we must have tea soon, but now I have dragons to tend, spaceships to repair, you know how it is these days.” Mug buzzed away. Half of his twenty-nine eyes remained fixed on the jabberwock as he flew.

  The jabberwock chirped what might have been laughter.

  “I suppose it’s my turn now,” said Meralda’s mother, striding up to the creature with a smile. “You are quite imposing, you know. Tell me, are your wings functional? I always wished I had wings of my own.”

  The jabberwock shuffled, regarding the woman with one eye and then the other before offering her a card.

  Meralda’s mother plucked a card without hesitation. “I do hope it’s something scandalous.”

  “The Thief of Hearts,” replied the jabberwock.

  The jabberwock asked for her mother’s last breath.

  Meralda’s heart froze. “Mother,” she began.

  “What an intriguing request.” Her mother met the jabberwock’s gaze squarely. “I tell you what. I will reserve my answer, for another time. Is that acceptable?”

  The jabberwock took her card, dipping its birdlike head slightly.

  “Wonderful!” Meralda’s mother replied. “Now, what do we call you?”

  The creature did not answer. It did turn and make its way toward Mrs. Primsbite.

  Meralda and Donchen followed. They found the dragon motionless, still apparently deep in slumber.

  Mr. Gliff turned from the glass with a sigh. “He’s taking it hard. Give the lad some time. Been through a lot, he has.”

  Meralda heard the jabberwock pronounce Mrs. Primsbite the Watcher of Shadows.

  “He looks to be still sleeping to me.” Mug peered inside at the dragon.

  “Well, begging your pardon, he isn’t,” replied Mr. Gliff. Mrs. Primsbite declined to part with her last breath with a polite expression of regret, and the jabberwock swallowed its card deck, marched to the chamber doors, and walked through them without a word.

  “Don’t mind her,” said Mr. Gliff, upon seeing Meralda’s puzzled expression. “She’s probably heading for the promenade deck. She likes it up there.”

  Mug, still fixed on the dragon, tapped the glass with a few expert movements of his cage. “Are you quite sure he’s all right? Is there any fresh air coming to him?”

  The dragon’s scales changed abruptly. The inky black seemed to shimmer, and in an instant, the down-pointing edge of every scale became tinged with a bright yellow.

  The dragon’s eyes snapped open, revealing quite humanlike whites, blue irises, and round black pupils.

  “I’m not coming out,” the dragon said, its jaws barely parting with each word. “Mr. Gliff says I don’t have to. Leave me alone. Go away.”

  “Even if you came out, I don’t see how you could go anywhere,” Mug replied. “You’re too big to fit through the corridors. How did you get in here? I’m Mug, by the way. I’m quite famous.”

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “I can go anywhere I want. Captain Resnic made a door, just for me, in the hull behind you. And if you’re so famous why have I never heard of you?”

  “You just did.” Mug bobbed his cage up and down, turning his blue eyes to meet the dragon’s. “I’m told your name is Bruce. I’ve never met a dragon named Bruce before. Can you fly, like me?”

  The dragon lifted its head, moving it closer to the glass. “What’s wrong with my name? It’s better than Mug. What are you, anyway? What’s your act?”

  “I’m a journalist. I write things down, and people read them. Sometimes I ask people questions, and they tell me things, and I write those down too.”

  “That’s a stupid act.” The dragon tilted its head, inspecting Mug intently. “Who owns you?”

  Mug laughed. “No one owns me. We don’t own other people. These are my friends. We’re lost. Just trying to get home.”

  The dragon snorted, turning the glass misty for a moment. “You’re not a person. People have arms and legs. Like them.” He looked accusingly at Meralda and Donchen. “And no one ever goes home.”

  “Now, now, Bruce,” Mr. Gliff said. “You know what the Captain said about such gloomy talk. Why don’t you come out, stretch your legs a bit? Do you a world of good, you know.”

  The dragon retreated, putting its chin back on its foreclaws. “No. Go away.”

 
; “I don’t much blame him,” Mug said. “Frankly, if I were in there, I wouldn’t come out either. Far too dangerous. I say we leave him be.”

  Mr. Gliff shrugged. “Well, lad, when you do want to venture forth, just tell Celestia, won’t you? She’ll fetch us, and we can open your door.”

  Bruce made no reply.

  Meralda’s weariness began to creep back, settling over her like a heavy cloak. She tried to ignore it and put her thoughts in order. “Mr. Gliff. You know the ship, I take it?”

  “Like the back of my hand.”

  “I have questions. Many of its workings are strange to me. Celestia explains them, of course, but some of the terms are unclear. Might you accompany me to the bridge, so we can talk about them?”

  The man smiled, obviously pleased. “I will indeed. But first let me pop into my quarters, get a change of clothes. I’ve been wearing the same suit for four thousand years, it seems. This one is in profound need of laundering.”

  Donchen chuckled. “I must say, you look quite dapper, nonetheless. Shall I remain with Mr. Bruce?”

  “No,” Mug said. “I’ll stay. I might even interview him if he agrees. I’m sure people want to hear his story.”

  The dragon did not stir, but Meralda saw his scales change color again, this time shifting to a verdant, sparkling green.

  Mr. Gliff saw and beamed. “Well then. Let’s be off. I’m starving. Bruce, I’ll just be on the bridge. Call out, if you need me.”

  “I won’t,” muttered the dragon. “You can’t make me.”

  Mr. Gliff chuckled softly and headed for the door.

  The rest of the party followed, save for Mug, who settled his cage down on the floor at the edge of the glass. He arranged his eyes in rows, according to color, and trained them on the dragon.

  “So,” Meralda heard him say, as the doors closed behind her. “Does it hurt when you breathe out the fire?”

  Donchen handed out cups of coffee as everyone settled into seats on the bridge.

  Skoof stood, putting himself in a corner. Mr. Gliff didn’t seem disturbed by his presence, and Meralda reflected that any man who lived with dragons and jabberwocks would be a hard man to surprise.

  “There we were.” Mr. Gliff took a sip of coffee. He’d changed into a fresh black suit very similar to his original one, though he now sported a dark red cravat and his hair was combed down straight. “The wheel let us board, easy as you please. We parked close to that little café the Captain favored. The one with the hanging garden? I suppose that’s all gone now.”

  “Very little survived the conflict,” Skoof offered.

  Mr. Gliff sighed. “Well. The crew was off, having dinner, and I daresay a few exotic libations. Most of the performers too. We’d even talked Bruce into flying about a bit. There was a Ganda cargo ship next to us, and I’d swapped a bottle of wine for some of that illuminated red stuff they favor. My back was giving me the devil, so I retired to my quarters and had a few sips.” He glanced at Mrs. Primsbite and winked. “Strictly medicinal, you know. I suppose I drifted off to sleep when suddenly I was awakened by thunder. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and another moment to realize I was hearing the Ganda’s guns firing off. Well, I got into my britches and lowered the ramp and damned if war hadn’t broken out, pardon my language ladies.”

  “I too recall that time,” Skoof said. “Hostilities broke out quite suddenly.”

  “That they did, Mr. Skoof. That they did. Ships and creatures and who knows what, all taking to the air or charging for the nearest safe spoke. Guns blazing all about, beam weapons flashing, missiles and drones and spears too, I reckon, filling the air all around. Everyone seemed to be shooting at everyone else, no rhyme or reason to it. Well, I headed for the café, saw it go up in flames before I got to the end of the ramp. I tell you all plain, ladies and gents. It was pandemonium.”

  The old man put down his coffee cup. His hand went to the spot on his chest where his previous suit had been burned. “I headed that way anyway, as fast as I could. Met up with the Captain and such of the crew that had gotten out. They were as confused as I was, but the Captain was clear enough on one thing – we were leaving. He ordered all but a dozen back aboard, and the rest of us set out to round up the stragglers.”

  “It sounds like a nightmare come to life,” Donchen said.

  “That it was, lad.” The old man’s face went grim. “We are – we were – a circus, don’t you know. Not a warship. We had a few weapons among us, yes, but what we faced – we didn’t stand a chance. We lost half our band in the first few minutes. Right after poor Martins went down, we noticed the path lines going dark. Not ours, but all around us, one by one. Like the spokes were shutting down. Ours were still lit, so the Captain kept looking.” Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes, and he fell silent for a moment.

  “You don’t have to relive that awful night all at once,” Mrs. Primsbite said.

  He took a deep breath. “Found the trapeze artists, the Shins, pinned but alive under a wreck. Managed to get old Toby the strongman and Lisa the werewolf away from a bunch of big hairy fellows with clubs. The sky started talking, and that’s when the Captain ordered us back. Hadn’t gone two steps when I felt something sting me, right below my heart. Smelled meat cooking, didn’t even realize it was me at first. Never saw what shot me.”

  “Your wound seems to have healed completely,” Donchen said.

  “Suspension tank works as well as the autodoc. Just takes longer,” replied Mr. Gliff. “Otherwise, I’d be dead. Where was I? Right. Well, there was an explosion right by us, and everyone scattered. They didn’t know I was hit. Didn’t come back for me. I was making my peace, I was, when the jabberwock strolled out of the smoke, calm as you please, and snatched me up like I was a sack of potatoes. One of the hairy giants rushed us, but she put paid to him, she did. Snick snick snick, and no more hairy giant.” He chuckled. “Reckon she didn’t care for his last breath. Anyway, things get a might blurry after that. I do recall the guns going silent, saw a couple of ships just fall right out of the air. Beam weapons stopped flashing. Things got quiet, and the path lines kept blinking out on the deck. The Hub was talking, loud as thunder.”

  “What was it saying?” Meralda asked. “Do you know its language?”

  “Not me, lass. I just knew it wasn’t good. Nobody ever told of a Hub talking before.”

  “It was saying then the same things it says now,” Skoof said. “A running report of closed spokes and system failures. Admonitions to disembark. That sort of thing, repeated verbatim since that night of which you speak, Mr. Gliff.”

  “Thought as much,” said Mr. Gliff. “Well, anyway, I was in and out of waking for the next little while. The autodoc – that’s the medical machine here, Miss Meralda – it failed. The drives wouldn’t respond. And Bruce was still missing. Poor Bruce, out in that ruckus all alone.”

  “He is a rather large dragon, is he not?” Meralda’s mother said. “It seems he should be capable of defending himself.”

  Mr. Gliff shook his head. “He’s a child, ma’am, no offense. I know, he doesn’t look it. Poor lad has a gentle soul, don’t let the claws and teeth deceive you. But he’s just a boy, for all that, and one who’s been ill-used too long.”

  “I must confess, I was surprised to see a real dragon aboard,” Meralda said. “Dragons are, in my experience, quite rare.”

  “I reckon they are,” said the old man. “Bruce isn’t a natural creature, you see. Now, none of what I say gets back to him, you hear? We all worked so hard for so long to help him forget what I’m about to tell you. I won’t have it brought back up, and I must insist. Deal?”

  “Deal, as you say. How is he not a natural creature?”

  “Best we can gather, he was created by some big gene engineering outfit out along the Rim,” Mr. Gliff said. “Designed to be a plaything for some rich system lord’s son. Well, the son outgrew Bruce. Sold him off, and we ran across him clearing jungle when we stopped for a show on some b
ackwater colony world. I have never seen the Captain so angry as he was that night after he talked with Bruce for a bit.”

  “What manner of men make slaves of children?” Mrs. Primsbite asked.

  “Stupid ones.” The old man grinned. “We took Bruce away, we did. Stole him right out from under their filthy noses. They sent up three interceptors, guns locked on us, and Celestia, she just thumbed her nose and took hyper. Remember that, Celestia?” Mr. Gliff slapped his knee. “Took hyper in an atmosphere! Blew their gunships all to ashes, I reckon. Bruce has been with us ever since. But he never really got over being sold or being forced to work for scraps. I still don’t know what happened to him out there in all the fighting, that night.”

  “Now we’ve woken him up,” Meralda said. Her mother didn’t so much as blink. “What’s the last thing you remember, from that night?”

  “Well, by the time the jabberwock got me back aboard, the drives were down. Couldn’t figure out why. Computer too, except for the auxiliary units. Last I heard was the Captain ordering the tractor loaded with everything it could carry. I reckon he realized being trapped in here would get us all killed, so he decided to make a run for the nearest working spoke before it failed too. I’m sure he meant to come back. Sure of it. But I guess they weren’t able.”

  “This tractor,” Donchen asked. “A vehicle? Was it not affected by the general system failures, as well?”

  “The tractor? Oh no. Ran on diesel, nothing fancy about it. Just big and slow and strong. Couldn’t even drive itself. It was all packed up with tents and tools and so forth anyway, for the next touchdown and show. Big enough and tough enough to shed small arms fire. Perfect for a getaway, if you can’t fly.”

  “What about the captain’s launch?” Meralda asked. “It’s not here. Did they take it as well?”

  Mr. Gliff shrugged. “I was in the tank by that time. They put me under when it got too hard to breathe. Don’t know anything, after that.” The old man reached for his cup.

  “That’s quite a tale,” Meralda said, when he didn’t speak. “I wish you had been wakened to a rescue, rather than our current unfortunate situation.”