Marianne, the Magus, and the Manticore

by Sheri S. Tepper

  ‘Where are I,’ he mused in his throaty baah. ‘We? Where?’

  ‘Outside something,’ rumbled Lion, washing the last of the dusk rain from the deep wrinkles between his eyes. His head swiveled as he heard an ominous rattle from behind him, and he looked into the eyes of Snake, awake now, tail in sinuous motion with its tip a vibrating blur. ‘We should be inside it rather than outside it. I don’t like being outside.’

  Goat turned to regard the wall, forcing Lion to look in the opposite direction. Two of the Chimera’s faces were back to back, able to turn completely around, as an owl’s head does, which allowed Lion to look forward while Goat looked back or vice versa on occasion. Lion contested the movement, turning the neck violently as he coughed with a guttural roar, and Goat stared down his own hairy backbone once more at Snake’s head, now thoroughly awake, tongue flicking in and out as it tasted the air.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Goat asked, refusing to be annoyed by Lion’s forceful behavior. ‘Why?’

  ‘Sssummoned, no doubt,’ hissed Snake. ‘Ssseeking sssomeone. It would be better to ssstop all thisss ssseeking, all thisss waking in ssstrange locationsss.’ The rattle at the end of Snake’s tail gave a dry, uneasy buzz, a humming paranoia of sound that made Goat blink and Lion extend his claws to scar the ground.

  ‘Who is it we are seeking?’ asked Goat, almost as though he knew the answer already but was testing to see whether the other parts of himself were as aware as he.

  ‘Marianne,’ roared Lion lustfully. ‘We are seeking Marianne.’

  ‘Sssilly girlsss,’ Snake hissed. ‘Running away and asssking to be ressscued.’

  ‘She didn’t run away,’ Goat reminded him. ‘She was sent, Snake.’ The Chimera got to its feet, heavy lion ones in front and hooved goat ones at the back while a scaled serpent tail lashed at the ground. Snake always felt best when he was lying against the ground and belly scales were where belly scales belonged, while Lion preferred to face forward – and move in that direction.

  ‘I, on the other hand,’ said Goat to himself in a philosophical manner, ‘find as much to comment upon looking back as I ever might looking forward. It is, perhaps, better that Lion usually does the forward looking. Lion is not overburdened with scruple, with metaphysical consideration, with introspection. If it were up to Goat, Chimera might hover forever upon the brink of action without taking it. I, however, am much needed as a kind of balance, for if it were up to Lion or Snake alone, we would be embroiled in continual calamity.’

  This was more or less true. Lion had few doubts about his actions. As he had said on more than one occasion, ‘I may be wrong, but I am never in doubt.’ Goat, on the other hand, was seldom wrong but often in doubt about virtually everything. Snake did not care. Wrong or right, venom, spite, and suspicion met either condition.

  ‘Have you ever speculated,’ began Goat, ‘on what a strange mosaic we are? I am continually amazed by the difference, the distinctions, the—’

  ‘Arragh,’ roared Lion. ‘I am outside, Goat. I want to be inside. This is no time for lectures.’ He began to move them along the wall, pace on pace of lion feet, goat hooves trotting behind, snake tail lashing, rattling, a constant counterpoint to the heavy breath of the Chimera, the hot, fiery breath of the Chimera. ‘Can I burn this wall?’ Lion roared, eager to make the attempt.

  Mild-voiced Goat, remonstrating, urging whenever possible a less violent course of action. ‘That shouldn’t be necessary. We see tracks. A vehicle has come this way, from out there in the haze toward this place.’ Goat saw two earth colored lines imposed upon the spongy gray-green of the plain, coming out of a nothing haze into the reality of wherever they were, vaguely paralleling the wall, swerving to meet it far ahead.

  ‘Tracksss mean people,’ Snake whispered. ‘It isss bessst to ssstay away from people.’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Goat kindly. ‘We won’t let them hurt you.’ Goat was watchful of Snake’s feelings. Snake’s fangs rested very near Goat’s backbone, and Snake was not always logical in his feelings of persecution.

  ‘They could not hurt me,’ roared Lion. ‘I am too powerful for them. Besides, why would they? Who would wish to wound anything as handsome as I? As elegantly virile? As marvelously strong? As—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ murmured Goat. ‘Quite right, Lion, we are veering away from the tracks. Cleave a bit more closely to their direction and we may come sooner to some break in the wall. Ah. We thought so. Let us turn our head a bit more – yes. See there. A gate!’

  ‘People,’ warned Snake again, restlessly shifting his head from side to side upon its stubby neck. ‘Bessst to avoid. Why ssshould anyone go inssside?’

  ‘Marianne,’ growled Lion. ‘I want her.’

  ‘Marianne,’ murmured Goat, ‘needs help.’

  ‘Marianne,’ hissed Snake, ‘should look out for herssself asss ssshe isss perfectly capable of doing. It isss dangerousss to go sssaving people.’

  The gate which they approached was hardly worthy of the name, being merely a shadowy interruption of the featureless plane of the wall, two penciled lines with a cross line above, and only the twin gullies of vehicle tracks leading to and under it signifying that something here might open. Lion scratched at it with his huge paws without effect.

  ‘Let us try,’ urged Goat. ‘Horns are very good for this sort of thing.’ He turned the reluctant neck until Goat faced forward, lowered the head, thrust the huge, curling horns against the shadowy doorway and began to push, goat hooves and lion feet thrusting deep into the soil of the place as Chimera leaned into the effort. Slowly, complainingly, the door opened. Chimera moved into the wall, through the tunnel under the wall, and out onto bare earth which extended from the wall itself to the outskirts of a dark, silent city. Far in the center of that city a squat, ugly tower poured smoke into the gray sky and blazed with beacon light. Lion could hear the sound of a crowd and the manic scream of a Manticore.

  ‘Manticore,’ hissed Snake. ‘Vicsssious, poisssonousss.’

  ‘No match for me,’ bellowed Lion. ‘I never saw a Manticore I couldn’t tear up and eat for breakfast.’

  ‘We have seen very few Manticores, actually,’ said Goat. ‘One or two. Both of them, as I recall, were immature at the time. Hardly a representative sample. Slowly, Lion, slowly.’

  Lion, not listening, bounded away toward the outskirts of the city and down the nearest empty street, Snake flying hideously behind. Goat sighed and began to brake the hind feet of Chimera, slowing their progress. Lion panted and growled, but Goat brought him to a halt.

  ‘Slowly, Lion. If you want Marianne, it would be better to find her while both she and we are in one piece – so to speak. Let us not confront Manticore head on. Let us first see what the situation is.’

  ‘Ssspy it out,’ whispered Snake. ‘Sssneak about a little.’

  ‘Dishonorable,’ roared Lion. ‘Right always conquers. Right makes might!’

  ‘Right makesss dead Lionsss, sssometimesss,’ hissed Snake. ‘Lisssten to Goat.’

  Snarling, but impotent to move Goat’s hind feet any faster than Goat wished them to move, Lion abated his mad charge through the city streets and even allowed Goat to turn the neck about to allow Goat some say in which way they went. They continued moving toward the tower, but Goat chose dark ways which were free of traffic. He could hear the sounds of vehicles, always on other streets, and the roar of a mob, and these were easy to avoid. It was less simple to avoid the vague, swimming light which pervaded some places, the feeling that millions of tiny beings hung about one making shadows and shifts in the fabric of the air. Still, Chimera made good progress toward the tower, and the flaming light from it came more clearly with each cross street they put behind them.

  At last they seemed to be only one street away, and Goat urged Lion toward a fire escape which zigzagged up the side of a building near them. ‘Let’s have a look from up there,’ he urged. ‘We should be able to see the tower and the street below it.’

  Lion shook his massi
ve head, making the rough curls of mane flick into Goat’s eyes, and opened his mouth as though to roar, but was stopped in an instant by a curious pain in his back parts. He turned his head to see Snake’s head poised over a flank, one fang barely inserted into the hairy hide of Chimera.

  ‘Lisssten to Goat, Lion. If it is going to die sssenssslesssly, might as well die here. Lisssten to Goat.’

  Goat slitted his eyes, wondering once again at the strangeness of life and being. Seldom did he feel Snake was an ally, but in this case the serpent part was willing to help Goat in the interest of discretion. He turned head front and tip-tapped hind feet up the stairs behind the pad-pad of lion feet. The roof was flat, and they peered over a low parapet at the convocation below.

  Greasy Girls were dancing in the street, before and around the Manticore who slashed at them, sending an occasional slick body flying to crash into a wall and slide to its base, resting there in limp, bloody clutter. On the outer stairs of the tower were many bulky forms, most with weapons of one kind or another, some with missiles which were being hurled at the Manticore to increase his fury. High in the square tower, a little above the place Chimera stood, firelight blazed from arcaded openings on all sides, lighting the street but leaving the outer stairs of the tower in virtual darkness. Chimera could see figures moving in this firelight, one man, two women, bringing more fuel for the fire. Before Goat could intervene, Lion roared, one shattering roar which sent pieces of the parapet flying into the street and shuddered the building beneath them. While Goat was still trying to decide what to do about this, Lion had them halfway down the fire escape once more, and by the time Goat had formulated his expostulation, Lion had them in the street, confronting the Manticore, roaring once more to make the street echo and thunder with the noise.

  ‘Beast,’ challenged Lion. ‘Horrid monster! Ugly creature! Hideous malefactor! Stand and fight, monster!’

  ‘Monster,’ screamed the Manticore, throwing back his dreadful head in a laugh which drowned the Lion’s roar. ‘Monster. Old Crazy-Quilt! Old Bits-and-Pieces! Old Snake’s Tail, Cat’s Face! Look at the monster crying monster. Aha, ha, haroo, ha ha! Pot calls kettle black. Snake calls lizard low. Frog calls newt slimy. Chimera calls Manticore monster! Aha, ha, haroo, ha ha!’

  This pejorative barrage would have stopped Goat in his tracks while he thought it out. Lion was not slowed by it, hardly heard it. Snake was already so infuriated by the noise and the disturbance that his fangs were fully extended and dripping with poison. Thus Goat was bypassed, left to think the matter over while Chimera went to battle. The first Manticore knew of it was that he found a huge wound slashed into his side by fangs while claws raked at his flanks and a needle strike told him Snake had managed to get in one bite in passing. Manticore turned to look into the calm and considering eyes of Goat for one split moment before Chimera turned and he faced Lion once more. The look from Goat had been more wounding than the bites or slashes, for it had both recognized him and shown pity, an emotion with which Manticore was generally unfamiliar but knew to be lethal.

  ‘Cat’s Face, am I?’ snarled Lion. ‘Feel my cat’s teeth, then, monster.’ And he went by once more, slashing at the other side. This time Manticore was ready for him, and the great scorpion tail came down to strike Goat’s back in front of Snake’s head.

  ‘I am immune,’ remarked Goat to Manticore. Though venom may give me some painful moments, it should be obvious to any sensible observer that immunity to any lasting effects of poison would be necessary for such a creature as I. While I am able, most of the time, to keep Snake’s feelings of persecution ameliorated, from time to time even my eloquence and powers of persuasion are insufficient, and Snake expresses his feelings of powerlessness against the world in a sly and poisonous attack …’

  These words were lost in the general confusion, though Goat went on to explain at some length the evolutionary attributes most necessary to the survival of Chimerae. Meantime, Manticore’s venom was making him unusually irritable, and at last he fell silent, focused upon the sensations emanating from within.

  The Manticore had fallen back, his screams betraying more pain and confusion than challenge. While Chimera was immune to venom, Manticore was not, and Snake’s bite was beginning to tell upon the monster, weakening it and making it feeble. Around it the Greasy Girls drew away, murmuring to themselves, and from the steps of the church the hierarch beckoned to them. Sorrowful music, which had stopped at the height of the battle, resumed once more with a funereal sound which seemed to affect the Manticore adversely for it screamed in agitation at the noise, an agonized bellowing.

  High above, Marianne and Grassi watched from the tower as Helen continued fueling the signal fire. Though all three presumed that their help had already arrived, it had done so in such outlandish guise as to make them somewhat doubtful whether this was, in fact, all they were to expect. Thus by mutual and unspoken consent the fire had been kept burning in the hope that something else, something more acceptable and usual in appearance, might manifest itself. Now that the battle began to howl its way toward what appeared to be a final climax, they had begun to doubt that any further intervention would be afforded.

  ‘Is that Macravail?’ asked Marianne finally, having postponed asking the question out of deference to Grassi.

  ‘I believe, pretty lady, that it is, though I cannot say with certainty and must admit to considerable surprise. It is not a creature I would have approached on the street with glad protestations of acquaintance. Still, there are familiar things about it.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Marianne encouragingly.

  Grassi nodded thoughtfully. ‘I recognize the pride in the roar. From time to time I seem to hear the goat part of it commenting in scholarly fashion on something or other, and that, too, I recognize. While I hesitate to say so, even the hiss of the serpent part is somewhat familiar to me, though I am proud to say it evokes no general feeling of remembrance.’

  ‘If I may choose a part,’ said Marianne, ‘I will choose the goat part.’

  ‘Forgive me for disagreeing, pretty lady,’ Grassi interrupted her, ‘but in the current situation, it seems to me that the lion part is doing very well for our cause.’

  She assented to this, still regarding the great teeth of the lion with no less disfavor than she regarded the great teeth of the Manticore. Those teeth might be of differing shapes and arrangement, but both sets served the same purpose; both were hungry, powerful, forceful, and aggressive. She did not have time to comment on this, however, for a long black car had driven to the corner of the street where the battle raged, and she recognized all too well the figure which got out of it. ‘Madame Delubovoska,’ she sighed, a cold breath of danger going down her back which chilled even the heat of the fire.

  ‘Who is this?’ asked Helen. ‘Is it the same? Oh, by Zurvan the Timeless, it is the same woman who sent my David to this place.’ And she raised a heavy piece of broken furniture above her head and cast it with all her strength toward the woman in the street below. The missile fell short, but it sufficed to attract Madame’s attention to those who peered down at her from above. Madame’s arm came up, pointing, and they heard her scream orders to the Manticore, orders which made that beast turn laboriously and tear his way through the few remaining Greasy Girls toward the bottom of the stair where he was met with other missiles flung by those of David’s party. The Manticore cowered, bleated in a strangely sheep-like way, but was driven forward by Madame’s screams to attempt the stairway.

  Chimera had been momentarily ignored in this rearrangement of the battle, an oversight which Lion – too late restrained by Goat – rectified by an ear-shattering roar and a plunge toward the Manticore’s backside.

  ‘You’ll go blind if that stinger hits your eyes,’ said Goat. ‘Your face will swell up, and you’ll look terrible. You might lose your marvelous appearance forever. Careful, Lion. Prudence. A little prudence.’

  ‘He’s attacking Marianne,’ roared Lion. ‘She’s mine. He can’
t have her.’

  ‘He isn’t yet near Marianne,’ said Goat. ‘That woman, on the other hand, is up to something and is very near to us.’ Madame was pointing at Chimera with one hand while the other hand twisted high in the air, as though she turned a great spigot on some unseen keg to release a force against them. Goat said again, so urgently that Lion turned to see the threat, ‘She is very near to us …’

  Lion, as usual, did not wait on his decision but attacked the woman at once, causing her to abort the twisting motion and flee toward her car in a curiously arachnoid scramble, all arms and legs in a scurry of furious activity. From the car she cried an imperious summons to the Manticore. That beast backed down the stair, crying its pain from several wounds and then away down the street after the retreating car.

  Chimera heard Marianne crying a trumpet call from the tower. ‘The library. She’s going to the library. After her, everyone!’ And in answer to that cry the Greasy Girls poured from the church, suddenly armed against what they had worshiped, the resistance fighters boiled away from the tower stairs, and Helen led the other two in a wild scramble down to the place where the Chimera, confused by this sudden turn of events, awaited them.

  ‘Marianne,’ growled Lion. ‘I have saved you.’

  ‘Marianne,’ murmured Goat, ‘it’s good that you are not injured.’

  ‘Marianne,’ hissed Snake, ‘ssshould be assshamed to have ssstarted this messss.’

  ‘Macravail?’ asked Grassi doubtfully. ‘Makr Avehl?’

  The Chimera sat down, Lion licking the blood from his feet, making a face of revulsion. Goat managed to turn the head slightly so that he faced Grassi. ‘Aghrehond,’ he said. ‘The beacon was your work, I assume?’