CHAPTER FOUR
When none of the inquisitors replied, Meg pressed her point. “We have many questions, and to this point you inquisitors all have avoided answering them because you did not wish to be overheard. Unless we have a stowaway or Heru is likely to carry tales back to your family, I believe we are as private as we are likely to be.”
“Heru’s good,” Grunwold said defensively, letting go of the wheel to stroke the xuxu along its back. “I raised him. He’s imprinted on me. The night before the barge reached KonSef Landing, he flew out to meet us. I sent him off to tell my folks I was coming home, because I knew I’d need to go up to the main house to get some supplies and I figured it was better to go openly. That last turned out to be a mistake.”
“Mistake,” agreed Heru in a croaking voice.
“I agree with Meg,” Vereez said. “The time has come for us answer some questions. The rain has let up, and the way we’re going, we’re not going to hit another storm.”
Teg noticed that neither of the young men questioned Vereez’s certainty about the weather, but put that thought away for later.
“Let’s start with your situation, Grunwold,” Vereez went on. “I know you told us your father didn’t want anyone looking for a cure for his illness, but I have the impression that something has changed since the last time you were home.”
Grunwold nodded. “It has. Turns out that shortly after I left for Hettua Shrine, my father took a turn for the worse. When I came home and said I planned to keep travelling, I was told I couldn’t. I’d even thought about asking for a loan of Slicewind, figured I’d say I needed it to help Vereez or Xerak get somewhere. I didn’t even get a chance. I was told I was going to manage the brickworks, starting tomorrow—today, now.”
“The brickworks?” Xerak said. “You?”
“Yeah, me.” Grunwold snorted, making clear that he agreed with Xerak that he wasn’t fit for the job. “As it was explained to me, it would be bad for business to let on that Dad wasn’t doing well, but they wanted me to stay home just in case the heir was needed. They can’t lock me up without raising questions, so they decided to do the next best thing—put me to a job where one of Dad’s most loyal flunkies would be able to supervise and make sure I didn’t screw up completely.”
Peg frowned, then looked up from her knitting. “Aren’t you worried about your father?”
“Of course, I am!” Grunwold snapped. “That’s why I want to find a cure for him. I don’t want to sit around and supervise the brickworks, and wait for him to die. I’m not needed to run the estate—my mother has been doing so for years, and she’ll keep doing so if something happens to my dad. Even if I’m there, it’ll be years before I’m more than a figurehead. What I need to do is save him.”
“But even though you didn’t say anything in advance, someone anticipated your wanting to take Slicewind,” Teg said, “and changed the security arrangements, am I right?”
“Seems like it,” Grunwold said, “though it could have been routine. Whatever. If Xerak hadn’t been here to undo the wards, I couldn’t even have gotten the ship out of the boathouse.”
“If Xerak,” Xerak added from where he now sprawled on the deck, looking more like a sleeping cat than a young man, “hadn’t been here, the darters would have put us to sleep and the cargo hauler would have dragged us home. Don’t forget that.”
Grunwold said nothing, but his shoulders tightened.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” Peg said, her tone of mild interest defusing the tension as it so often did. “Xerak, you’re quite good at this magic, aren’t you? Better, I would guess, than Grunwold’s parents might suspect?”
Xerak nodded, but he didn’t look particularly proud of his achievement. “My master was wonderful. I learned more from Uten Kekui in the four years I studied under him than I would have in eight at one of the colleges. He encouraged me to think up solutions for myself, hybridize spells, and even gave me free run of his library.
“After he vanished, as I told you, I spent a long time searching for him. Since I played with the idea for a while that Master’s vanishing might be a sort of test for me, any time I came up against an obstacle, I studied up a way around it. I didn’t realize how much I’d learned until recently, when I went by Zisurru University in Rivers Meet to see if anyone might be able to give me a lead. The stuff the other students my age were doing . . . It seemed pathetically simple.”
“That’s interesting,” Peg said. “So it seems as if Grunwold’s parents would have every reason to believe that they’d taken adequate precautions to keep Slicewind locked away. Grunwold, those other things that attacked us—the darters and the cargo hauler—they couldn’t have been specifically meant to stop you, could they?”
Grunwold’s shoulders started to rise in his habitual sulky shrug, but Vereez snapped, “Grunwold, if you shrug one more time, I’ll bite you! Give us a straight answer. Something’s not right here.”
Grunwold let his shoulders sag. “Something is definitely not right. The thing is, I’m not the best person to know what. I’ve been away at the academy for most of the last five years. I’d come home on holidays—get told, ‘Someday, son, all of this will be yours.’ Then I’d get reamed out for being better at poetry and weapon arts than I am at agriculture and accounting. Usually any chat over the how things are going at KonSef Estate stopped there.”
Vereez softened, then got up so she could pat his shoulder. “And thank those we’ve been before that you’re good at weapons arts. You play a pretty mean slide whistle, too.”
Grunwold laughed. “I had to learn the whistle commands when I was home for harvest. We use the cargo haulers to carry grain to the silos. They can lift a surprising amount as long as they don’t need to go too fast or too far.”
“Is hauling cargo all those flying shag rugs do?” Teg asked, trusting the translation spell to make sense of her words.
“That’s right. We use them as rudimentary guards during harvest, too. They swallow and hold. Usually, the only thing the thief risks is suffocation. I don’t ever remember them being used to guard the grounds though.”
“But those others—the darters?” Meg asked. “The ones Xerak said put people to sleep? Those are typical?”
“Tranquilizer darters,” Grunwold said. “They’re pretty typical. Ours are usually charmed to go only after unescorted strangers. I guess our taking Slicewind overrode that I was escorting you.”
“Or you weren’t supposed to leave the grounds again,” Xerak added gloomily. “Now we’ve stolen both you and Slicewind. You’re really sure Konnel-toh and Sefit-toh won’t do anything?”
“I’ve told you. I don’t think they can without making clear that Dad’s worse. I’ve been allowed to take Slicewind out before—that’s why I’m so good at sailing her.”
He turned and bowed his head to Peg, a courtly gesture at odds with his usual temperamental sullenness. “Thank you for taking the wheel. I didn’t expect that—or that you’d be so skillful. If you’d like, I can teach you more about piloting her.”
“I think,” Vereez cut in, “all of us should get those lessons. We can’t always rely on stored winds for a quick escape.”
“I’m sure we can’t,” Peg agreed, “but I was glad you had the one you pulled out. I know there are ways to sail against the wind, but I had enough to do without trying to remember how to direct Meg and Teg to reposition the sails.”
“Meg,” Teg said. “Remember, I wasn’t there. I was poking a boathook at a flying shag rug.”
“I’d be happy to learn what sailing I can,” Meg said, “but please remember. I am in my seventies. The spirit is willing but the body can’t always keep up with what I desire—and hauling ropes for more than a short time may be hard on my old limbs.”
Grunwold smiled. “You might be surprised. Slicewind is an amazing craft. She has a few tricks I couldn’t explain earlier but . . . ”
The conversation became technical after that. It turned out that if Slicewind knew its course, the ship could adjust its own sail settings. When Slicewind sailed through the air, it sailed faster than it did on water because the drag was minimal. It could also move on land, using skids, although speed would depend on terrain and would definitely be slower than either on air or on water. Usually, this option was only used when either air or water cruising was impractical.
Additionally, there was a sort of autopilot that could be used for routine cruises.
“Even when the autopilot is activated,” Grunwold said, “someone should be nearby in case problems arise, but the autopilot means that one of us shouldn’t always need to be at the wheel.”
“While that’s wonderful,” Peg said, “when there is a crisis, someone will need to be at the wheel. I nominate me. I’ve proven I can wrestle the wheel. With some practice, I’ll be able to handle the elevation control at the same time. That frees up Teg and Meg for other jobs.”
“I second Peg’s suggestion,” Meg said. “I tried the wheel and it takes more muscle than I have. I could certainly handle the wheel short-term, but I’d do better as a lookout, perhaps. Ever since my cataract surgery, my distance vision is excellent.”
Teg nodded. “I think I’d better learn how to handle the helm as well, just in case something happens to Peg. I’m no specialist in the fighting arts like Grunwold is, nor am I a wizard, but maybe you can teach me enough about handling a sword that I can help out if we’re attacked again. I’m already a mean hand with a machete, although all I’ve cut with that is brush.”
Vereez yipped satisfaction. “You’ve shown that all of you keep your heads beautifully in a crisis. I’ll admit, I had wondered. There are six of us. We should set up watches with one person capable of handling the helm on each. Xerak, can you sail?”
“Not much,” the leonine wizard admitted, “but I’ll learn.”
He didn’t sound precisely thrilled.
“I have some experience,” Vereez said, “although my family doesn’t own a flying yacht, so mine is from watercraft.”
The watches were set up to pair Grunwold, as the most skilled sailor, with Meg, who was likely to be the worst. There was some debate as to whether to pair Xerak with Teg or Peg. In the end, they settled on Peg, since she was eager to sail and he was indifferent. That left Teg and Vereez as the final pairing.
“We’ll shift around,” the fox said, “once we are all more skilled, but this will do for now.”
“Now,” Meg said. “All of us napped in expectation of this expedition, and I doubt any of us wishes to rest until we are certain we have indeed achieved our goal and successfully stolen both Grunwold and Slicewind from his family estates. Perhaps now would be a good time for you three inquisitors to tell the three of us everything you know about the destruction of the Library of the Sapphire Wind.”
“I’m glad you’re so eager,” Grunwold said, “but how about I give you a tour of Slicewind first? I think I have cabin assignments worked out, but I want to clear them with you.”
“That does make sense,” Meg said, rising a little stiffly. “And now that we’re no longer in crisis mode, I realize I am still damp and a bit chilly. I wouldn’t mind a chance to get into dry clothes.”
“I’ll take the helm,” Vereez said. “Go on, Grunwold. Show off your precious ship.”
Once they were all below, Grunwold began his tour by showing them where the light controls were. The lights themselves looked so modern that Teg had to remind herself that the streamlined panels were not illuminated by electricity.
Or if electricity, then magical electricity or something.
“This area,” Grunwold said, making a flourishing gesture around an area about five meters by five meters, “is the shared public area, the lounge. Wherever possible, the built-in furniture does double-duty as storage. My mother likes multipurpose spaces, so permanent furnishing is limited, but there are extra chairs and small tables we can pull out if needed.”
“Nice high ceilings,” Peg commented with approval.
“My dad has antlers, just like I do,” Grunwold said. “We need high ceilings.”
“Your dad’s antlers,” Xerak commented, “are a lot more impressive.”
Grunwold shot his friend a look, but otherwise went on with his tour-guide spiel without acknowledging the jibe. “To the stern is the master bedroom suite, which has its own bathroom.”
He slid open the door so they could look inside. A somewhat longer-than-usual double bed dominated the space, but once the various bags and bundles that Teg had tossed in were cleared up, there should be enough to move around comfortably. For Teg, who had done her share of living in tents, the space was even roomy. The promised bathroom had a small shower enclosure, a toilet, and a sink.
“I thought you three mentors could use this cabin,” Grunwold went on. “Since we plan to keep three watches, it would be unusual for all three of you to need the bed at the same time.”
The three mentors—each of whom lived in her own house or apartment—exchanged glances, but wordlessly decided to withhold any comments until the tour was over.
“Over here, across the lounge,” Grunwold said, “is the other bathroom. That’s the one we three will share. If someone’s asleep in the master suite, it’s also the public bathroom. Around the corner here, more or less part of the lounge, is the galley.”
He indicated a long counter with an inset sink, and a small stove with oven beneath.
“We even have an ice box,” he said, opening a cabinet beneath the counter, at the far end from the stove. “It isn’t large, but it means we can carry some perishables.”
“Oh, good,” Peg said. “I’d hate to go without milk for my poffee or tea!”
The galley space doubled as a hallway leading toward the bow.
“Through here,” Grunwold said, leading the way forward, “we have the other two cabins. “The one to port is oddly shaped and a little cramped because it works around the mast. It has a bunk bed, so could sleep two in a pinch. I thought we’d put Vereez in there. If she’s on watch, and one of you need privacy, you could go in there. This last door leads to the bow cabin.”
He slid open the door, revealing a roughly triangular room. Two single beds were set along the sides of the triangle, and were, again, somewhat longer than Teg would have expected.
Of course, she thought. Antlers again. It’s either make a longer bed or sleep with your rack hanging off, which probably isn’t all that comfortable.
Once again, the room was fitted with cabinets, often cleverly tucked into what would have been wasted space, doubling as nightstands and bedframes.
Suddenly, impulsively, Teg decided she liked Slicewind. She completely understood why Grunwold was so attached to the ship. It was not only functional, it was cleverly designed, and full of little grace notes, like reading lights and carvings on the woodwork.
Grunwold mentioned his mother likes flexible space. I wonder if she did a lot of the design here. If so, no wonder she’s the type of person who can run a large estate while dealing with her husband’s declining health. I’ve wanted to help Grunwold, but now I want to help her and his dad, too.
“There’s a hatch under the lounge carpet that gives access to the hold,” Grunwold said, shooing them out into the larger area again. “Clean and waste water storage is there, as well as extra ropes, sails, and fittings. You shouldn’t need to go down there, though.”
“Slicewind’s layout is impressive,” Peg said. “You’ve been very generous giving us the master cabin. I think we can manage to share.”
“I agree,” Meg said firmly, “especially if Vereez will let us use her cabin from time to time. I have lived alone for many years now, and sometimes I need a bit of privacy.”
Teg nodded. “I’m good. I live alone except for the cats, but I’ve lived in enough field camps that just having a place with hot and cold running water, showers, and real toilets is luxurious.”
Grunwold looked both relieved and happy. “Then how about you ladies get warm and dry, and handle your unpacking?”
“And after that,” Meg said, “perhaps while we have a before-bedtime snack, you can tell us more about the destruction of the Library of the Sapphire Wind.”
“I don’t know much about the Library,” Vereez began, once they were back on deck with mugs of hot tea and poffee. “Once Xerak mentioned it, I remembered hearing that it had happened. That’s about it.”
Grunwold started to shrug, glanced over at Vereez and visibly restrained himself. “Me, too. My father went there when he was younger. Whenever he talked about that visit, he’d talk about the Library as if it was still open for business.”
“Xerak?” Peg prompted. “From what we were told earlier, I gathered that this place was associated with the magical arts. Surely you must know something.”
“Only,” Xerak said, lazily combing at his mane with his claw tips, much as a man might toy with his beard, “that my master occasionally mentioned it—usually when he was annoyed by how much harder it is to research arcane matters since the destruction.”
“So the Library of the Sapphire Wind was open to the public,” Meg said.
“Not quite the public,” Xerak clarified. “It wasn’t a members-only sort of club, but you needed a reason to have access to the collections. They had lots of rarities there—one-of-a-kind books and artifacts.”
“How large was the support staff?” Peg asked.
“I think . . . ” Xerak began, but Grunwold interrupted.
“Why does any of this matter? The place has been a ruin since long before we were born.”
Peg tsked at him. “Fold your ears down and don’t listen if we’re boring you, young man. I realize you’re under a great deal of stress, but that’s no excuse to be rude to people who have come an inconceivable distance to help you.”
Grunwold’s big ears did droop. “Sorry. But I still don’t see why . . . ”
Teg cut in. “Having a sense of what the Library of the Sapphire Wind was like before it was destroyed will help us to more effectively explore the ruins when we arrive. For example, if it had a large, permanent staff, then there will have been places for the librarians and support staff to live—that is unless the librarians did their own laundry, cooking, cleaning, and all the rest. Was there an associated village or did everyone live in the library buildings themselves? Would you like to spend days searching the ruins of a building only to find out that it had been a laundry?”
“Oh . . . ” Grunwold paused. “Sorry.”
He sounded as if he meant it this time.
Xerak looked thoughtful. “I believe the Library did have a resident staff. Knowing what I do about wizards, I can’t imagine they would have wanted to do their own chores.”
“That’s what apprentices are for, right, Xerak?” Vereez teased.
Xerak tossed his mane and ostentatiously ignored her. “But as to where they lived, who did the work . . . I couldn’t say. Grunwold, do you remember anything from your father’s stories?”
“Not about that sort of thing.” The young stag was clearly trying to be conciliatory. “I remember Dad was very impressed with a domed ceiling that showed the constellations.” Grunwold looked sad. “I guess that’s gone now—weird. Dad always talked about it as if we might go visit it someday. Anyhow, that’s why we have the constellation mosaic in our grand dining hall at home. When people praise it, Dad always says it’s nothing like the original. Ours just shows the summer constellations. He said the constellations shown in the mosaic at the Library of the Sapphire Wind changed with the seasons, and could be commanded to show the sky as it looked in any part of the world.”
“How long did the Library exist?” Meg asked. “Decades? Centuries?”
“At least a century,” Xerak replied promptly, “more, I think. My impression is that it was built around the private library and associated property of a wizard who didn’t want to see his collection of rarities broken up when he died. Others came to him in the years that followed and asked if he’d take their collection. A hefty donation was required to have your works archived, so not all collections ended up there, but many did. Eventually, the Library became second only to Zisurru University in the prestige of its collection.”
“If the Library was both famous and in place for at least a hundred years,” Teg said, “then we should be able to find drawings or prints depicting it. Even if the renderings are more artistic than accurate, still they would give us something to start from. Grunwold, you said you’d set course to a city called Rivers Meet? Would we be able to buy something like that there?”
“It’s a good-sized city,” Grunwold said. “Lots of shops.”
He looked as if he was going to start describing his favorites with the wistful enthusiasm of someone who didn’t get to visit often, but Vereez cut in.
“There might be something about the Library of the Sapphire Wind in my family’s library.”
“We’re going to your home city?” Peg asked. “Are you going to have problems getting away from home like Grunwold did?”
Vereez shook her head. “I can’t see why. I didn’t tell them exactly why I wanted to go to Hettua Shrine. Or rather, I did. I told them I was looking for guidance as to how to direct my studies. I’ll tell them Hawtoor-va set me a task.”
“Let me guess,” Peg chuckled, “helping three badly burned pilgrims.”
Vereez bared her teeth in a smile that was as much defiant as cheerful. “Why not? I’ve always had an interest in helping people. I don’t think I’ll mention just how dangerous an area we’re going to, though.”
“That’s a good idea,” Meg agreed. “A very, very good idea.”
***
As they continued laying their plans for getting to the Library of the Sapphire Wind, once again Teg wondered at the protocols of the culture from which the three inquisitors came. Why would Vereez’s family, which had already lost one daughter, let their remaining child run off to Hettua Shrine, especially with such a minimal escort?
Then again, what did Teg know? Some families became so obsessed after a loss that they didn’t pay attention to what they still had. Or Vereez’s parents might be in severe denial. Given that Vereez had indicated that they’d given up on finding Vereez’s little sister, that might be even more likely.
“If you’re sure your parents won’t mind,” Peg said, her mother-self obviously at war with her sense of responsibility to the inquisitors and their searches. “All this stealing and running off into the wilderness does not fit my image of what a good mentor should be encouraging. What would Gandalf do?”
Teg, who had been moving to where she could light up without offending anyone, laughed. “Let’s see . . . Send a hobbit who’d barely been out of his hometown off to deal with trolls, wild elves, and dragons in the company of a bunch of grumpy dwarves? Dumbledore was no better—he let a bunch of kids fight the evil forces that had everyone paralyzed in terror because of some stupid prophecy. At least we’re going to stick with these kids, and not vanish when the going gets bad.”
The three inquisitors looked completely confused. In her best “librarian” voice, Meg explained. “Teg is citing precedents from the lore of our world. Many times the mentors act in a manner that is puzzling because it leaves their charges with a minimum of guidance. We may lack the powers of a Gandalf or a Dumbledore, but we’ll make up for that by staying with you.”
Xerak obviously took this as a slight on his beloved master and began to snarl, lips peeling back to show impressive fangs. Peg, with a great deal more courage than Teg would have had if their places were reversed, stopped knitting long enough to tap him on the nose with a spare needle.
“Enough of that, young man. We know this Uten Kekui was admirable. We’ve had evidence of that in how you saved us all from the darters. We have enough problems without bickering over imagined slights.”
Grunwold glanced back over his shoulder. “Vereez’s family library might be useful, but Xerak, doesn’t your family have a business dealing in curiosities? Their shop might have some excellent old maps.”
“Maybe,” Xerak said, “but I’d need to be careful about how I asked. When I stopped in last, they were talking about formally terminating my apprenticeship and having me enroll at Zisurru University for advanced studies. I argued them out of it but, even though I’m in something of a grey area legally, I don’t want to push the issue.”
“Grey area?” Peg asked.
“Apprentices are legally governed by their masters,” Xerak explained, “not their parents. However, since my master has vanished, there has been a debate as to whether my parents should take back their rights. The longer my search goes on, the more they have doubts regarding how I’ve been spending my time.”
“Or,” Vereez said wisely, “what you’ve managed to do so far is giving them a sense of how talented you are, and they want you to get some additional training before you blow off a hand trying to throw lightning or create rain showers.”
“That raises an issue I’ve been wondering about,” Meg said. “Precisely how old are you three and what is your legal status?”
“I’m twenty,” Grunwold said. “Xerak’s a year older than I am, and I’m a year older than Vereez. Roughly speaking, I mean. We don’t have birthdays at precisely the same time.”
“Xerak said he’s in a grey area legally,” Teg said. “What about you others? Are you old enough to be considered adults?”
“Old enough?” Vereez said. “What does age have to do with adulthood?”
Peg blinked. “Where we come from, a child is considered a legal adult at eighteen years old, although in some places legal adulthood is twenty-one.”
“So just living a bunch of years is enough to be considered an adult?” Grunwold said. “Oh, I wish it was so simple here.”
The discussion that followed showed how very different this culture was from the modern United States. Marriage conferred adulthood—but only if the marriage was entered into with the approval of both sets of parents; they, by granting approval, indicated that they considered their child to be able to assume adult responsibilities. Graduation from an apprenticeship conferred adulthood, but only if the apprentice then passed a review by an appropriate board or guild. Graduation from a university or certain trade programs also usually conferred adulthood, although, again, there was an exam of some sort to pass.
Neither Vereez nor Grunwold had yet graduated from either a university or trade program—although Grunwold had been in the middle of the equivalent of a university program before he’d been called home. Vereez had been just starting a university program when she decided to go to Hettua Shrine. For this reason, neither could be considered adults.
There were further refinements. After these had been discussed in detail, Meg gave a crisp nod.
“So,” she said, “if I understand correctly, it is completely possible that an unambitious person might remain a minor until the death of his or her parents. Those who cannot support themselves might become adults by default. However, if someone in their family wishes to file for them to be declared incompetent, they could find themselves appointed a guardian and remain minors. This does provide an incentive to learn responsibilities or get an education, doesn’t it?”
Peg chuckled. “I can’t imagine that my children would have much liked the rules over here. They looked toward turning eighteen as freedom from anyone being able to ‘try and run their lives,’ as I’ve heard many times.”
“Mine as well,” Meg added very, very dryly. “Nonetheless, so often, these ‘adults’ still expect you to supply a home, food, and pay for higher education. This world seems to have a much more sensible system. The parent is only left in charge of the child if the child refuses to take on adult responsibilities.”
Peg sniggered. “No ‘gap year.’ No ‘finding yourself.’ Ah, well . . . Still, I’m sure I was a trial to my parents. I shouldn’t be so unkind to my own kids.”
Teg nodded. “If only half of the stories you tell about your own youth are true, you definitely were a trial to your folks, hippy-chick. Now, returning to our current situation. If I understand our inquisitors’ situations correctly, they are all still not yet full adults—in Xerak’s case, because he feels he is still an apprentice, even if Zisurru University has given him a certificate. Grunwold and Vereez are basically still minors. For the moment, we’ve gotten Grunwold clear of his family, and Vereez thinks she’s not going to have any problems getting away from her parents.”
Vereez flattened her ears. “As long as I don’t mention that I’m looking for my sister, I won’t. That’s got to be kept quiet.”
“Why?” Meg asked, packing the single syllable with all of her considerable personality.
Vereez looked her squarely in the eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that my parents solidly deny that I ever had a much-younger sister. You won’t find her listed in our genealogy. Her fate is a closed book. Only I seem willing to open it.”
Peg spoke gently. “You said your sister was an infant when she vanished. Are you certain she didn’t die, and that they are trying to spare you pain?”
“I’m sure,” Vereez snapped, then became terrifyingly serious. “If she had died, they would have listed her in our family tree. We would remember her on the appropriate festivals. Instead, they’ve done all they can to make it as if she never existed.”
“That is a mystery,” Peg agreed. “Very well. Shall we all agree not to let on why Vereez is really travelling with us? She is simply fulfilling the somewhat cryptic commands of an ancient oracle.”
Nods all around, and Vereez brightened. “Excellent! Then I’ll go home and inform my family about Hawtoor’s command. While I’m there I’ll pillage the family library for maps. Xerak?”
“I’ll check the shop for maps, pictures, whatever,” the young wizard rumbled. “If my parents insist on discussing having my apprenticeship terminated, then I will insist on being tested by the Wizard’s Guild. They only test twice a year, so that will not only delay things but, if and when I do enroll in Zisurru University, I will have a neutral assessment of what courses I need to take. Whatever I am, I am certainly not”—he snapped his fingers and a small ball of light appeared in his palm—“a beginner.”
When they arrived in Rivers Meet some days later, the city as seen from the sky proved to be a shimmering spectacle of towering stone structures in hues ranging from pale golden brown to deep burnished bronze. Windows were often of multipaneled stained glass, so the overall impression was less of buildings than of jewelry inset with elaborate gemstone mosaics.
“I hadn’t expected the buildings to be so tall,” Meg said. “That one looks at least fifteen stories high.”
“The buildings are sort of like pyramids, aren’t they?” Peg asked no one in particular. “Both the smooth-sided sort and the step ones. The shape is all over the place, both on the ground and capping the skyscrapers.”
“The roads are nicely laid out,” Teg commented, “on a grid. This city was planned. It didn’t evolve.”
Slicewind was not the only flying ship visible over the city, but flying craft didn’t seem precisely common either. Grunwold had brought them in too high to see much about the nature of the traffic that thronged the wide boulevards, but that didn’t keep the three humans from trying, aided by a couple of pairs of binoculars that they’d brought from home.
Teg had relinquished her set to Meg, and was skulking to where she could have a smoke without offending most of her companions, when she overheard a snatch of conversation that brought her up short. Vereez was speaking to Grunwold, who was at the helm, carefully guiding Slicewind into the city along what seemed to be the equivalent of aerial “streets,” indicated by markings on rooftops and the sides of buildings.
“If you drop me on the top deck of the city center,” Vereez was saying, “I’ll get a carriage home from there. Then go on to the hotel. Heru should be back soon with confirmation of your reservation. I’ll send you a message indicating when I’ll be ready to depart. I’m guessing that, like me, Xerak will only want to make a brief visit with his folks.”
Xerak, who was lazing on the deck, writing in a journal, nodded. “I’ll get off at the city center, too. That will let me hit a couple of stores on the way to my parent’s house.”
With what attention he could spare from his piloting, Grunwold managed to look grumpier than usual. “And I get to play babysitter?”
“Eldersitter,” Vereez chortled. “Why not? It’s probably better that you stay indoors anyhow, just in case your parents aren’t as neutral as you think about your running off with Slicewind, rather than going to supervise the brickworks like a good little buck.”
Teg paused, any desire to have a smoke vanishing. “Wait. You’re not planning on keeping us locked up in some lousy hotel while we’re in Rivers Meet are you?”
Vereez looked hurt. “It’s not a ‘lousy’ hotel, I will have you know. It’s the finest one my family owns. If Heru doesn’t let us down, I’ll have reserved the penthouse suite with its own private dock. You’ll be in the lap of luxury.”
“So we’re still prisoners?” Teg asked, stabbing her unlit cigarette at the three inquisitors. “If that’s the case, I may just go home and to hell with helping you out.”
The young people looked shocked.
Xerak rolled to his feet, tucking his journal into its case as he did so. “We’re just doing as Hawtoor-va suggested. He said that it would be best to keep you three safely away from where your—uh—oddities could be detected. He said that trouble might arise.”
Meg and Peg had heard Teg’s questions. It would have been hard not to, since she’d been all but shouting. They turned from the rail and hastened over to join the impromptu conference.
“Hawtoor suggested?” Teg repeated. “And what does a near hermit know about anything?”
“He knows,” Grunwold said sharply, turning the wheel with unnecessary force, “that people from other worlds do not routinely appear here, not at his shrine, not in others. He’s very concerned that our”—he all but spat the word—“‘impulsiveness’ may have catastrophic results.”
“But Hawtoor doesn’t know,” Peg said, her usual conciliatory manner less effective than usual because of the acid in her tone. “He just wants us kept close as a safeguard. I wonder if his motives are as altruistic as he makes them out to be? He was obviously negligent—literally asleep on the job—or you three wouldn’t have been able to do what you did.”
Meg nodded. “That’s a very good point, Peg.” She shifted her attention to the three inquisitors. “Tell me. Why did you go to such trouble to provide us with disguises if you were going to keep us concealed? To this point, you have given us the impression that once we were away from the smaller settlements and the close confines of the barge on which we travelled to Grunwold’s family estate, we would be able to be out and about. We have honored this restriction because we assumed that at some point we would be permitted to see more of your world.”
“That’s right,” Teg said. “No one may have said so directly, but it was certainly implied. I hate to sound like a brat but, seriously, if we’re going to be prisoners, I’m going to use my bracelet and go home.”
She wasn’t sure she meant it but, based on the reactions, her auditors believed that she was sincere.
“Wait!” Vereez said, placing one hand with those oddly dark nails on Teg’s arm. “Please . . . I don’t know what the boys think, but I believe you were meant to come to us. If you leave, I may never find my . . . ” Her voice caught, broke. “My little sister.”
Vereez had shown herself quite capable of theatrics, but Teg believed her emotions were sincere. Before she could respond, Grunwold cut in.
“Look, I didn’t like how that old owl sneered at us, not one bit, but I’m not willing to risk losing my opportunity to find a cure for Dad on the chance that we cause some sort of riot because we have three alien monsters with us.”
“Grunwold!” Vereez and Xerak spoke as one, horrified—not so much, Teg thought, at what he’d said than that he’d said it openly.
Meg smiled the polite, meaningless smile with which she’d doubtless responded to numerous annoying library clients. “So you are saying that the disguises you provided are inadequate.”
“No, they’re . . . ”
Meg cut him off. “Then if they’re adequate, you’re saying you think we’re too stupid to remember to keep them on and to maintain the charade when we’re out in public.”
Grunwold tried to retort, but Meg talked right through his sputtering.
“If that’s the case, then I think Teg is correct. We should all go home. I regret it, certainly, but if we are too stupid to maintain a simple charade in a strange city where everything we see, every word we hear, will remind us how vulnerable we are, then Teg is correct. We are too stupid to be able to assist you.”
Peg chuckled. “In fact, we’re so stupid that it’s a miracle we’ve lived as long as we have. Even young Teg has more than five decades behind her.”
Silence reigned except for the snapping of the sail as Grunwold turned Slicewind toward a tall, many-windowed building that was topped with a step pyramid mosaicked in shimmering deep violet-purple tiles that dazzled the eye when the sunlight reflected off them.
Grunwold was the first to start laughing. “You ladies have a point, a definite point! I concede. Very well, I hate sounding like a parent making rules before taking a small child on an outing but, if you agree to keep your disguises on and to not ask any questions—better make that ‘talk’—where anyone might overhear you, then I’ll take the risk.”
Teg grinned. “Excellent! You may find letting us get a look at Rivers Meet will have advantages beyond keeping us from getting cabin fever. We’ll be a lot more useful when we have a larger context—a better sense of your culture. Without that, we won’t know a rarity from the routine.”
Vereez and Xerak looked worried but, since they couldn’t very well stop Grunwold, not if they were going to fulfill their part of the plans, they had to give in.
It’s not as if we’re Merry and Pippin, and are going to drop rocks down a well in Moria.
Nonetheless, once they were out on the streets, it was hard to remember not to talk. They’d told Grunwold in advance the sort of places they wanted to see—temples or churches, shopping centers, libraries. This last, very sensible suggestion, had come from Meg.
“After all, if we’re going to be investigating the ruins of a library, it would be helpful to have a conception as to the basic layout of libraries in this culture. Otherwise, we may entertain misconceptions.”
Her suggestion turned out to be a good one.
I might have expected scrolls, Teg thought, and even deduced what a scroll rack was once I got beyond the initial impulse to think of it as a wine rack for unduly slim bottles. However, I never would have known about those cool data crystals or how useful they seem to be. I’d have just thought they were decorations.
The temples had been interesting, not only as architectural specimens, but for what they said about the culture. Most human religions had, at their base, the need to deal with death. Here there was a widespread belief that the spirit continued on after death.
“Belief,” Peg said later, when Grunwold had taken them back to the penthouse and gone to get takeout for lunch—eating out had been rejected because it would require the three humans to take off their masks—“is almost the wrong word. They know life continues on after death.”
“And how they know is not exactly reassuring,” Teg said. “Grunwold takes ghosts manifesting, as well as the ability to communicate with the recently deceased, completely for granted. When I wrote him a note asking if we should expect ghosts at the ruins, he looked at me as if I’d asked him if we should expect to be breathing air.”
Peg chuckled. “Grunwold’s expression usually says that he thinks that most other people—even his friends—are mentally wanting. It occurs to me that we should check if these ghosts are necessarily nasty.”
Meg sighed as she unbent from tugging off her boots. “I did while you were in the bathroom and Teg was having a smoke. Sometimes they are, sometimes they aren’t. Grunwold did admit that the chance of our encountering malevolent spirits was much higher in a place that had been destroyed by violence. What interested me was the dominant belief in reincarnation.”
“Me, too,” Teg agreed. “Most of the religions here seem oriented around assuring optimal reincarnations. The question seems to be what ‘optimal’ means. Sooner. Later. With friends and relations. I’m sure there are other refinements. I rather liked the Temple of the Exploring Soul. Best as I could tell, it seemed to be promising its advocates a sort of Grand Tour of all the world through many lifetimes.”
“I thought you’d have gone for the Church of the Timeless,” Peg teased. “That one seemed to be promising the ability to go backward as well as forward in time.”
“Naw,” Teg laughed. “Knowing for sure would take all the fun out of excavations.”
“What is interesting,” Meg said, “is that there seems to be no sense of a permanent heaven or hell. Some religions apparently advocate something like a rest stop, but there’s no sense of an end.”
“We only looked at a few temples,” Teg reminded her. “Judging based on that—even on what our young inquisitors can tell us—would be like judging all of Earth based on a stop in London in, say, the eighteen hundreds. You’d miss so much.”
Meg nodded. “Point taken. And, dominant belief in reincarnation or not, grief at separation from loved ones is just as real here. Death remains an end, I suppose, whether you hope to meet your loved ones in heaven or in the next incarnation.”
Grunwold returned soon after with lunch. The prospect of bodily satisfaction in the here and now did a great deal to banish the increasingly solemn mood. Teg was partway through a sort of chicken burrito with a sweet-spicy sauce that brought tears to her eyes when she remembered a question she’d been wanting to ask.
“Grunwold, what are the ethics involved in eating the animal that—well—that your head came from?”
Grunwold stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “My head didn’t come from any animal. You don’t think I’ve been wearing a mask all this time, do you?”
“No, but your head—it’s a stag’s head, isn’t it?”
Grunwold shook his head. “It’s my head. It isn’t the head of any male quadruped. At least that’s what the translation spell says you’re saying. Although for a moment it sort of stammered over ‘only male,’ as an option.”
Teg sighed. Grunwold could be incredibly annoying, and seemed to really enjoy it.
She took another bite of her burrito, pulled out her notebook, and with a few quick lines produced a sketch of a standard white-tailed deer. It wouldn’t have won any art prizes, but it was perfectly recognizable, even as to type. No one who knew deer would take this for a mule deer or an elk.
“The translation spell is obviously messing with us again,” she said. “By ‘stag’ I meant this—the male of this particular creature. The female looks very similar, but lacks the antlers.”
Grunwold stared at the drawing. “That’s incredibly creepy! It looks like you took my head and put it on the body of a kubran, though a kubran is a bit more stocky than that and has dark barring in the coat.”
Teg knew what a kubran was. They’d eaten a roasted haunch of one when on the riverboat after the ship’s captain had managed a lucky shot when the riverboat had been at anchor. They were heavy-bodied ungulates, with broad, almost triangular heads, and dark barring on coats that ranged from light grey to medium brown.
“Quick, Teg,” Peg urged. “Draw a fox, then a lion. Can you?”
“Sure,” Teg said. She did, then held out her notebook for Grunwold’s inspection. He took it, then spent a long moment studying the pictures.
“Why do you keep drawing these weird hybrids?” he finally asked. “It’s harder to tell what the body is meant to be on the creature with Vereez’s head and tail, but it’s just not right. As for Xerak . . . He’d love to have a mane like that, I’m sure. He might even end up growing one someday, but that body . . . It reminds me of several feline types, but doesn’t match any cat great or small that I know—beyond the similarities most felines share. Could that be an aspect of your drawing?”
Meg shook her head decisively. “It is not. These are perfectly adequate sketches, especially given that Teg was drawing from memory. The proportions are good. She could indicate coloring only a little in pencil. Both the stag and the fox would be in reddish hues—similar to your coloration and Vereez’s. The lion would be a rich golden brown, rather like Xerak’s fur.”
Grunwold frowned. “So these are real creatures from your world. Not people—more like animals?”
“That’s right,” Teg said. “We’d assumed that they were creatures here, too, but that we hadn’t seen them yet.”
Peg nodded. “After all, we’ve been fairly restricted in our actions, and one would not expect to see a lion or a fox—or even a deer—in most of the places we’ve been. It’s not as if they’re domesticated creatures.”
“‘He’s not a tame lion,’” Meg quoted so softly that Teg wondered if she realized she’d spoken aloud.
“Well,” Grunwold said, clearly shaken, and therefore less argumentative than he usually was, “I can’t say I’ve ever seen creatures like them, or pictures of them, or anything like that. Your drawings look like real animals. I’ll give you that, but they don’t belong to any reality I know.”
“Slowly now,” said Meg. “How many different sorts of heads do people here have?”
For a moment it seemed that Grunwold was going to become truculent once more, but he took another long look at Teg’s drawings and stopped himself.
“I really don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about.”
Meg persisted. “But are there any sorts of heads that match—precisely, mind you, not just by being feline or canine or whatever—any sort of creature that doesn’t have what I’m going to call a basically human body: bipedal, no fur or lightly furred. Bodies like you and Vereez and Xerak and all the other people have. Bodies more or less like ours.”
“Not that I know of,” Grunwold said. “There are similarities, of course, but no . . . ”
“All right, a related question. We’ve seen mixed-type couples,” Teg said. “Like the owners of the riverboat. The wolf and the rabbit. Is that common?”
“Of course,” Grunwold said, vaguely disgusted. “Sure, some people fall for people who look more like them, but only perverts choose someone just because of what sort of head they have. If I refused to date anyone except girls with heads like mine, my parents would give me a stern talking to, make sure I hadn’t gone completely egocentric, so that I couldn’t admire anything but myself.”
“How—” Teg began, but Grunwold cut her off.
“Wait! My turn for questions. We’ve been wondering why you three look so alike, except for little differences in coloration and height and such. We thought it was really strange that the three of you had such similar heads, but it seemed rude to ask. Now . . . Am I right? Do people where you come from all look the same?”
The three humans looked at each other, oddly astonished.
Then Peg said, “Well, we don’t think we look very much alike, but I can see what you mean. Yes. All humans look more or less like we do. There are some variations: skin color, texture of hair, shape of the nose . . . I guess those are the most obvious. Teg, you’re the anthropologist. Am I right?”
Teg nodded. “There are differences in build as well, but those often even out with changes of diet, health care, or exercise. The Japanese, for example, started getting taller when their diets shifted to include more protein. The change happens over generations, of course. An adult who eats more protein isn’t suddenly going to start growing.”
Grunwold said, “You really think you look all that different from each other? I mean, your hair grows in the same places on your heads. None of you have fangs. None of you have fur or hair on your faces. All of your eyes are frontally set. Does a little difference in coloration or hair texture really matter?”
Teg said sadly, “Oh, yes. Our history is full of examples. Even in modern times, when I know we’ve made some progress—especially when I remember what my parents put up with, not to mention my grandparents—the fact that I have darker skin causes people to sometimes treat me badly.”
“Are there places where Meg—who is the lightest of you—would be treated badly?” Grunwold asked, clearly trying to grasp what, for him, was a very strange concept.
“Yes, but it’s not a simple matter of lighter or darker skin,” Teg said. “We’d need to give you a very long lecture—worse than one of Hawtoor’s—to explain why.”
“Worse than Hawtoor’s?” Grunwold grinned—an action that had more to do with how he moved his ears than with his mouth. “Then I’ll pass. You had a question for me, I think.”
“If two people have children”—Teg had been about to say “If you and Vereez were to have children,” but caught herself in time. They were all playing very dumb about Grunwold’s unrequited crush on Vereez—“does what sort of head the children have just happen at random?”
Grunwold shook his head. “No. Often the children take after one or more of their parents. I look a lot like my dad; Vereez looks a lot like her mom, although Inehem-toh’s fur is a really pretty snowy white. If a child doesn’t have a head type that can be accounted for by going back a few generations, then there start to be questions about, uh . . . ”
“Marital fidelity?” Peg suggested. “We have the same problem—or did until DNA testing became an option.”
“How can anyone tell?” Grunwold said. “Do you have that many different shades of hair and skin?”
“Not really,” Teg said cheerfully, “but just like with you, there are certain patterns in the blending. Darker hair and eyes tend to dominate lighter. So if I were to have children with Meg’s son . . . ”
“Please!” Meg said. “Don’t wish that on yourself! Charles is sweet in his way, but too stuffy for you!”
Teg persisted, “Then my darker looks would likely assure that most of our children would have dark hair and eyes. I will spare you a lecture on recessive genes and the rest.”
“So why isn’t everyone on your world dark then?” Grunwold asked reasonably.
“Originally for reasons of geography,” Meg said. “In our world, the lighter skin and hair colors evolved as beneficial in colder, darker climates. Darker skin and hair offered protection against strong sunlight. I realize you’ll probably find this ‘perverted,’ but in our world it’s still more common for people to marry people who share their basic coloring—although that often has more to do with shared culture than with egocentrism.”
Peg nodded. “My father was of Spanish heritage and quite dark. My mother was a red-haired Irish colleen. However, they both were Catholic, met at church, and fell in love—resulting in me and my brother, who take more after our father in coloring, and my sister, who has red hair.”
Grunwold rubbed the finger of his right hand between his brows. “You make my head ache worse than when my antlers budded,” he said good naturedly. “Have you played tourist enough for today? If I went up to check Slicewind’s stores, then made a list of what we need to lay in before we leave, will you promise to stay put and not shock the hotel staff?”
“Promise,” Meg said, speaking for all of them, but Grunwold waited until both Teg and Peg added their own promises.
Unnatural silence fell after Grunwold departed. Eventually, Teg went and picked up her notebook from where Grunwold had left it. She studied the pages thoughtfully, then began sketching a kudu from memory, setting it alongside the white-tailed deer for contrast.
“I think,” Meg said, “that in addition to our vocabulary, we might enjoy making a list of all the different types of animal heads these people have. I’m not sure if we’ll find a pattern, but we might learn something.”
“I’m for it,” Teg agreed. “I keep thinking of how many cultures on Earth have legends about animal-headed humans. Egyptians. Assyrians. Celts. Japanese. Many Native American groups. When you add in cultures with stories about shapeshifters, I don’t think you’ll find one without some use of the motif of a blending of human and animal traits. Such tales of animal-head humans are usually attributed to a desire to take on the qualities of an admired animal or, conversely, out of fear of the beast both within and without—but I wonder . . . ”
“We might be the first humans to come here,” Peg said, her knitting needles clicking quickly in her excitement, “but maybe, long ago, people from here came to our world and left their mark.”