Bearing an Hourglass (10 page)

Orlene had not truly loved him, Norton now knew. She had not been free to, so she had transferred it all to the baby. She had loved Gaw-Two—nothing else. Norton had been a means to the end of the accomplishment of her contract and good company along the way. Perhaps she had thought she loved him, but now the truth was shown. Had she loved him, she would not have left him like this.

It was ironic, he thought, how she had used her magic perception, the glow, to determine the best prospect for a consort—and then been defeated by a problem in another area. The liability had not been in her consort, but in her husband, who had interfered with the process and subverted it, with the best of intentions. And perhaps the liability had also been in Orlene herself, for she had proved unable to survive the first great disappointment. Another woman would have cried and suffered, then gone on to conceive another baby, one who would redeem the effort and restore love and happiness.

Norton himself had been an almost coincidental figure, as intended by the ghost—and now was in love with a dead woman. What recourse did he have?

He doused his fire and retreated to the lean-to he had
made from branches and leaves. He lay and looked out into the dusk. He was back in his preferred lifestyle, hiking and camping alone, but now it lacked the joy it had offered before. He had no immediate financial problem, thanks to the bequest Orlene had made. She had indeed been meticulous, taking care of everything, before she died. Her note had recognized the service Norton had performed, pointed out that the loss of the heir had been no fault of his, and requested that he be given limited credit in the account of the estate for life. Gawain the Ghost had authenticated the bequest, and the credit had been granted. Though Norton used it sparingly, he did find it helpful. It was handy to replenish supplies for hiking, as Orlene had intended—if she had not loved him, she had certainly been very fond of him—and when he drew on the account, this gave him a poignant awareness of her. How could he turn down her little gift, her tangible token of affection?

A figure appeared before him. “At last I have found you!” Gawain said. “I knew if I searched the parks long enough, I’d succeed.”

“Go away,” Norton muttered, shutting his eyes.

“Of course, the credit account helped,” the ghost continued blithely. “That gave me the latest update on your whereabouts. But there are an awful lot of trees to check through! It would have helped if you’d left a trail—but you’re too good a woodsman for that. You don’t litter, you don’t pollute, you don’t waste—I’m lucky I caught the cloud of steam from your doused fire, or I would have passed you by again.”

“Be my guest,” Norton mumbled, trying to block his ears. “Pass me by again.”

“You see, I’ve got another proposition for you,” the ghost went on, refusing to be annoyed. “I liked the way you performed on the last.”

Norton’s eyes snapped open. “Damn it, I dreamed I would destroy her—and I did! My vision was correct. I planted the baby whose death shattered her life! Don’t thank me for that!”

“You know that’s not so,” Gawain said reasonably. “You did your job. My interference was responsible. I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll keep my finger out of the next pie.”

“How can you?” Norton demanded, annoyed by the metaphor. Pie, indeed! “She’s dead! You may not have loved her, but I did, and now she’s gone.”

“Well, you see, her death has freed me to marry again,” Gawain said. “Now I can find another woman, or my folks will, and she can bear my heir. I don’t know who she’ll be, but I can guarantee she’ll be attractive, talented, and intelligent—your kind of woman, Norton!—and will do what my folks tell her to. So I want you to return to the estate and wait for her, and to—”

Norton was appalled. “To service another woman? Don’t you understand? I
loved
Orlene! I never want any woman but her!”

“Well, sure, and I appreciate your loyalty,” the ghost said, disconcerted. “But it might be good therapy for you to—”

“No!”

“I know you’re a good man. That’s why I want you for this. I know you’ll produce a good baby and not try to despoil the estate.”

Norton shut his eyes again. “Go away. Find some other sucker.”

“You know what the real problem was? I wanted to be sure the baby was male. That’s why I sought Gaea. Okay, I said I’d learned my lesson. You can sire a female, that’s okay, I won’t interfere—I’ll just wait for the next and you can keep the girl if you want her. It’s the boy I must have. I absolutely guarantee not to mess the pudding this time!”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

The ghost sighed. “I’ll go, but I’ll be back.”

When Norton opened his eyes, Gawain was gone. But it took Norton a long time to get to sleep. His heart still hurt, though it had been two months since Orlene’s death.

After another two months, Gawain came to him again, catching him in another forest park. All the major cities
were parked on top in the twenty-first century; it was one of man’s necessary compromises with nature. Some cities featured natural wildernesses; others had magic gardens or alien landscapes. Many stocked exotic creatures in special habitats. From space, it was hard to tell the planet Earth was still inhabited by man—and that, Norton felt, was the way it should be.

The ghost fell in beside him as he walked. “I’ve got her, Norton,” Gawain said without preamble. “Lovely beyond belief! Sexy as a woman can be without driving every nearby man to madness. Name’s Lila. Just come see her, and you’ll—”

“Go away,” Norton said. “I told you before, I’m not interested in any other woman.”

“But you can’t go on moping forever! It’s been four months, and you’re a healthy, living man. You have natural urges. And Lila is ready for you; she’s seen your picture. She likes you, Norton! In her arms you’ll forget—”

Norton swung his fist furiously through Gawain’s body. “Can’t you understand? I don’t
want
to forget Orlene! I love her! I always will!”

“This isn’t healthy, Norton,” the ghost remonstrated. “Your body’s fine, but your mind is in an unreasonable depression. I know how it is; I would be in a funk for days after I let a dragon escape. It would really be better if—”

“Never!” Norton cried. “Go find another stud! I’m out of this!”

Gawain shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Lila, when she walks—”

“Away! Begone, foul spirit!”

Daunted at last, the ghost vanished.

But every month or so, Gawain returned, insisting on pestering Norton with reports. Another man had been found—Lila had accepted him—she had not been given a choice—the two were going at it like professionals—Lila was pregnant—the man had skipped town, good riddance!—the fetus seemed to be developing normally—the heir seemed assured.

Meanwhile, Gawain insisted on giving Norton the lessons in dragon fighting he had originally promised. Norton finally relented to that extent. It was evident that the ghost was trying diligently to stay away from his second wife and incipient baby, observing but not interfering in any way, but still lacked confidence to depart this world entirely. Thus he used Norton as a companion to keep himself out of mischief. Too many fingers spoiled the pie. So Norton studied dragon slaying, though he never expected to make use of this skill.

“First you have to have a good sword,” Gawain said. “Preferably an enchanted one, but it’s best to learn on a mundane one, to be sure you have the basic skill. My old sword will be excellent, and I’m sure the estate will release it to you.”

“I don’t want a sword!” Norton protested. But in the end he had to concede it necessary for this training and he accepted Gawain’s sword, which was shipped to the park for him. The weapon was enchanted, but they pretended it wasn’t, and he made progress in handling it and developing stamina.

The months passed, and Norton’s depression eased without entirely dissipating, like a mountain slowly weathering down. There was indeed pleasure in companionship, even that of a ghost, and in activity, even practice in swordplay. And at one point the sword was useful: two anti-wilderness thugs, enraged by Norton’s stern challenge to their despoilment of the park—they had not only littered, they had cut a live sapling down—attacked him with their knives and were brought up short when Norton calmly drew his sword and demonstrated his growing proficiency with it. He cut a lock of hair off each, using swings that somehow seemed to be heading for their necks, and they fled, fearing that an ear or a nose would be next. Norton was not generally a violent man, but he did indeed feel like a hero in that instance. If there was one thing that really set him off, it was abuse of the wilderness; there was so little of it remaining, and what there was, was so carefully cultivated. He deposited the locks of hair
in the police box; the authorities would analyze it and have the identities of the culprits in an hour. Unless this happened to be a first offense, which was doubtful considering their attitude, they would be arrested and penalized before the day was out. A wilderness-phobia-spell or litter-eating-enchantment was just the punishment that type needed!

Gawain, indulging in his periodic checks on the status of his heir, reported in due course that Lila had birthed a fine, healthy daughter. Not as good as a son, of course, but at least it was proof that this pie had been finger-free. “And the next should be a boy, who shall inherit the estate. Primogenitor, you know—the first-born male.”

Norton shrugged. This really wasn’t his business.

“There’s no man on the estate now,” Gawain said as if just thinking of it. “You could still go and—you know.”

“No,” Norton said, but without the force of his prior refusals. After all, over a year had passed, and there was only so much wilderness to discover. The pleasures of a comfortable apartment and a voluptuous woman …

Gawain pounced on his hesitation with the practiced expertise of a warrior. “At least come see her! I swear, you never saw architecture like hers! And she’s a passionate creature, too. She gets bored, you know, alone on the estate.”

“But there are surely other men—”

“Ah, but none as good as you, Norton! I really would prefer to have my son sired by you! He may grow up to protect the wilderness …”

Norton wavered and lost. “All right.”

They took the nearest elevator to the basement, then matter-mitted to the city of Gawain’s estate. Matter-mission was not cheap transport, but the estate was paying for it. Then they took the belts to the address. Soon they were there. It was just as Norton remembered it; the mere sight of the door was a shock to his system. Here he had first seen Orlene …

“Oh,” Gawain said apologetically. “I can’t—”

“I remember. You can’t share a room with her. She
can’t see or hear you, and may doubt you exist.” Norton wondered what power determined the ghost’s imperceptibility. Could the woman have seen him before she married him? Would he have vanished the moment she said, “I do”? What was the point in this loss of awareness? The supernatural did not seem to make a great deal of sense at times.

He knocked on the door, feeling like a teenage suitor, though he was now nearing forty. In a moment its viewer scanned him; then it opened. Lila stood there. “Oh, you’re Norton!” she exclaimed breathily. “I know you from your picture!”

Norton looked at her. Voluptuous she was indeed. Too much so; she had evidently put on weight during her pregnancy and not bothered to take it off after. Now she reminded him somewhat of a cow. Orlene had always been trim, even during her gravid period; she had not deposited flab on her thighs or chin. Lila had. She was still voluptuous rather than fat, but before long that distinction would become academic.

But it was more than that. Lila, in his eyes, was an imposter here. He knew she was legitimate; she had done the job she was supposed to do. She had succeeded where Orlene had failed, delivering a fully healthy baby, and she deserved credit. But his emotion refused to concede that. He could not touch this woman without feeling unfaithful to Orlene.

Sick at heart, he turned away. He knew he would never return here.

He was on Mars when Gawain caught up to him again. He was trekking across the cold, red sands, wearing a planet-suit and respirator. The ghost fell in beside him, as he had done in the park on Earth. Gawain, of course, needed no respirator; he was in shirt sleeves. At times Norton wondered about that, too. Surely Gawain had been killed in armor; why wasn’t he still wearing that? Did ghosts have phantom wardrobes? Could they change clothing at will? Evidently so.

“There’s really not much to see here,” Gawain said. “Just sand, sand, and more sand. Why are you here?”

“Because it’s far from Earth,” Norton replied crossly. “I like to see new things.”

“And it makes it harder for me to find you?”

“That, too.”

“I bet you thought I wouldn’t be able to get here, since magic is not an interplanetary force.”

“True.”

“But you forgot I have access to the estate matter-mitter. It was science, not magic, that brought me here.”

“Live and learn.”

“And now I have found you again.”

“So I noticed. Now go away.”

“Not quite yet.”

“Gawain, you have your baby! If there’s no male heir, a female qualifies. Why don’t you retire to Heaven now?”

“Well, actually, Heaven is not quite assured.”

“Wherever. It can’t be worse than impotence on Earth, can it?”

Gawain shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m not going yet, because my business on Earth isn’t quite finished. I need a male heir. This is not a legal matter, it’s personal.”

“Then don’t waste your energy with me! Go find another bull for your cow.”

“Oh, I have, I have! But these things take time.”

“You mean I’m stuck with you for another nine months?”

“Not exactly. But I do feel responsible for you.”

“You—for me?”

“Yes, me for you. After all, I got you into this. I brought you to Orlene and I messed with the heir’s bloodline. So I set you up and pulled you down. I can’t blame you for being upset.”

“That’s over now,” Norton said grimly. “You meant no harm.”