Being a Green Mother (11 page)

Then there was an abrupt commotion.

In a moment Mym was back, bearing his silk handkerchief. He required her to be veiled, so she could not see. He guided her out of the crates and out of the alley. Then he unveiled her, and they resumed their walk back to the caravan. The thuggees were gone. Evidently he had somehow frightened them off.

Orb was relieved to make it back safely. She had been really worried for a moment! Now she understood the tour master’s concern about safety in the big city. The delight of shopping in the bazaar was not worth the danger.

A few days later the tour master came to talk with her. “What do you know about thuggees?” he asked.

“Very little,” Orb said. “Mym and I were broached by some in the city, but he persuaded them not to molest us. Your concern was well taken.”

“He persuaded them?” the master asked, wrinkling his brow. “What did he say to them?”

“Well, he didn’t really talk to them. He—he has difficulty talking, you know.”

“Did he signal them in some way? Give them money? What?”

“I really didn’t see,” she confessed. “I was hiding, at his behest. Then he blindfolded me and brought me out. I think that was so I wouldn’t see the thuggees. Perhaps it was part of the agreement, so I couldn’t identify them.” But that made little sense to her as she said it, because she had seen the thuggees before.

“You saw nothing,” the master said, as if making a point.

“Nothing. Why, is something wrong?”

“I hope not,” the master said, and departed, leaving her perplexed.

On the next reading session, Orb took a moment to inquire about this matter. “The tour master was questioning me about thuggees,” she said. “Is there something I should know about?”

“You haven’t heard?” the harpy screeched, flapping her wings with excitement. “Five thuggees were found in town, hacked into pieces. Blood splattered all over, and—”

“Watch it, birdbrain!” the mermaid snapped.

“Dead?” Orb asked, stunned.

“Probably they went after a berserker and got wiped out,” the mermaid said. “After they left you.”

“A berserker?”

“You don’t know about berserkers?” the harpy cried. “One taste of blood, and they go absolutely wild and just start killing, like sharks, and nothing stops them! They just cut and hack and—”

“Finally get killed themselves,” the mermaid said firmly, again cutting off the harpy’s joyful description. “So whatever happened, it’s over now, because the only peaceful berserker is a dead berserker.”

“That’s horrible,” Orb said, shuddering. “I’m glad we didn’t encounter a berserker!”

The harpy fluttered her wings. “Well, I think—”

“Let’s get on with the reading,” the mermaid said, with a fierce warning glance at the harpy.

Orb proceeded with the lesson, but she was ill at ease. There seemed to be something they weren’t telling her.

Later, she asked Mym about it. “Did you know that those thuggees we encountered were found slaughtered? How do you suppose that happened?”

“A berserker,” he said, stuttering so badly that she decided to spare him further talking for a while. Evidently the matter had come to his attention, too, and disturbed him as it did her.

They were in her wagon, suffering through a long wait while a downpour of the monsoon season inundated the landscape. Some wagons leaked, but Orb’s was tight, and it was an excellent place to be. “I think we should get to know each other better,” she said. “We’re—well, we’re fellow performers now, and—” She shrugged, finding herself unable
to say directly that she very much enjoyed his company. Mym, so unprepossessing at first, was a handsome, talented, and decent man, and the mystery of his origin made him intriguing.

He nodded, agreeable to whatever she wished. That was another thing about him—he was a gentleman. The mermaid had hinted to Orb that Mym was quite interested in her, and Pythea the snake charmer had said the same. Both confessed to having offered Mym entertainment of the intimate kind, but he had declined because his interest was elsewhere. Orb had blushed, then found herself flattered, and was developing more than an idle interest in Mym herself. She knew he would never force on her any attention she did not want; she felt safe with him and comfortable, and that counted for a lot.

She told him of her history, such as it was: her youth in Ireland; the acquisition of her magic harp from the Mountain King; and her quest for the Llano. He listened closely and, when she came to the song, he said he had heard of it.

“You have?” she asked, excited.

He told her a variant of one of the stories she had heard before—how a young woman had loved an esteemed warrior and captured his love by singing the Llano, even though she was of lesser birth than he, and not beautiful.

Orb smiled, glad to have this confirmation. “Of course it couldn’t happen in real life,” she said.

“It could happen,” he said haltingly.

She looked at him, understanding that what the girls had told her was true. The rain beat down, making the wagon seem more protected and intimate. She wished she could—what? Embrace him? She had never done that with a man, in the romantic sense. “But of course you’re not a prince. Not that it matters, Mym. I—have been growing very fond of you, even—”

“I-I-I-I—” He was unable to get the words out at all.

She put her hand on his. “It doesn’t matter, Mym. You don’t need to speak to me in words.” But she knew it did matter, to him.

Then she had a bright notion. “I have heard that sometimes—Mym, can you sing?”

“S-s-s-sing?” he asked blankly.

“It invokes a different portion of the brain, as I understand
it. So some stutterers can sing clearly, even though they can’t talk. Come, try it; sing with me.” And she launched into one of her Irish songs: “O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, / From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.”

Doubtfully, he joined her: “And from the trees, the leaves, the leaves are falling, / ’Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.”

They both paused, astonished. He had not only managed to sing it without stuttering, he had sung it clearly and well.

“You could make it as a singer!” she exclaimed.

“I-I-I-I could!” he agreed, awed.

“No—sing it,” she urged him. “You don’t need a song; just hold the note, any note.”

“I can!” he sang in a level note.

“Now you can say anything you want to!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Mym, I’m so pleased!” And she flung her arms about his neck and kissed him.

For a moment he responded. Then he withdrew. “I must not,” he sang.

“Not?” Orb tried not to feel rejected.

Freed of his incapacity in this miraculous way, Mym became far more expressive. “I am not what I seem,” he sang. “I
am
a prince.” He went on to explain how his name was Pride of the Kingdom, and he was the second son of the Rajah of Gujarat. He had been confined to the palace because his father did not want his speech impediment to embarrass the family. He had been trained in every royal art, particularly that of combat, just in case anything should happen to his brother. Ashamed, Mym had fled the palace and hidden from his family, aided by a magic charm he possessed. Until he had attended the show and heard Orb sing. Then—

He shrugged. It was obvious that he had been captivated by her from the outset; now he had confessed it. Her heart went out to him. Then she remembered the other mystery. “Those thuggees—”

Then he confessed to that, too. As a prince, he hated such vermin, and when they had threatened her, he had drawn upon his devastating combat skills and slaughtered them all. “I blindfolded you,” he sang, “so that you would not see their bodies.”

Orb turned away, crushed. Her worst concern had been confirmed. Mym was a killer, perhaps close to a berserker. How could she associate with him?

When she looked again, he was gone. He had known how this news hurt her. She saw now that the mermaid had suspected and protected her from this revelation. Orb was at heart an innocent girl.

She threw herself on her bunk and sobbed.

But as the night passed, and the next day, and the rain abated and allowed them to proceed to their next station, her horror ameliorated. The mermaid was helpful, reminding her of her probable fate had Mym not acted as he had against the thuggees. “No man who goes beserk at the thought of a threat to the woman he loves can be called evil,” she said. The others in the class agreed, even the harpy. “I’d love to have a man mangle bodies for me!” she screeched.

So it was that Orb’s horror metamorphosed to an opposite emotion of similar intensity, and she realized that she loved Mym. She nerved herself and went to him to apologize.

“Forgiven!” he sang immediately.

She flung her arms around him and kissed him.

After an enchanted moment he drew back. “I am a prince,” he reminded her in his new singsong.

She hardly cared about that; royalty meant little to her. “I will remain with you here in India, if I need to,” she said.

“No, no!” he sang. “You must continue your quest for the Llano! I would not deny you your dream!”

“But I think I have found my dream, in you,” she said. Her heart, so long her own, seemed to be inflamed, but it was a wonderful feeling. She had never known such love before.

“Only part of it, only part,” he demurred. “And that part you can have without sacrificing the other. I will go with you, wherever your quest leads.”

She smiled. “You are truly the most wonderful of men.” Then she kissed him again, savoring the amazing new emotion.

She drew back her head to look at him, struck by something. “Turn your head,” she said abruptly.

He obliged, uncertain of her intent.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “You are he! That’s why you looked familiar!”

“Who?” he sang.

“The man of my dream! I really
have
found you!”

He shook his head, perplexed. Then she explained about her childhood vision of walking down an aisle on the arm of a man she could never quite see, except for a glimpse of his profile. “You are that man!”

“I should be glad to be in your dreams,” he sang. “But I am not certain how I entered that one!”

“It was a dream of marriage,” she said. “Don’t desert it.”

“I shall try not to,” he agreed.

That night Mym moved into her wagon. The news of their romance had spread across the troupe at a velocity that left light somewhat behind, and Mym’s belongings had traveled here before he knew of it.

They lay together, not making love, just simply holding each other. Mym had, he confessed, known many women in sexual detail; it was expected of a prince, and concubines were a rupee a dozen. But he had never been in love. Orb admitted she had no experience in either love or sex, and had never felt the lack, until now.

“The touch of your hand is melody to me,” he told her.

“That’s just my magic!” she reproved him. He laughed, and they kissed and kissed again.

On other nights they did make love, many times and with abandon, but it was only an affirmation of their love, not an end in itself. She just wanted to be with him as closely as she could.

Meanwhile, the show went on, and the months passed. They traversed India and crossed the Indus River. The end of Orb’s tour with the carnival was approaching, and she had not found the Llano, but she didn’t care; she had found Mym instead.

But at the outskirts of Karachi, disaster came riding on horseback. An officer of Gujarat, Mym’s kingdom, appeared. “Prince, we have come for you!” he called. “The Prince, your brother, is dead. You will return with us.”

Orb came out. “You must go,” she said. “Your Kingdom needs you.”

“Damn my Kingdom!” he sang.

“I will go with you, my love.” She had no need of any
royal life, only to be with him. She was sure she could handle it.

“No,” the officer said firmly. “The Prince alone must come. He will marry a princess of the Rajah’s choosing.”

Orb felt the clutch of horror on her heart. Was she to be separated from him?

“N-n-n-never!” Mym cried.

“We are instructed to pay the woman an adequate sum,” the officer said. “She will not be in want. But she is not to see the Prince again, by order of the Rajah.”

“An adequate sum!” Orb exclaimed indignantly. How could any monetary payment make up for the outrage and anguish of such a parting?

“It is here,” the officer said, proffering her a small package. Orb was hardly aware of accepting it; she was numbed by the awfulness of the situation.

She looked at Mym. He was standing as if dazed, his eyes staring ahead. A trace of blood showed on his lip.

The officer kneeled before him, proffering the hilt of his sword. “If it pleases you, Prince, strike off my head first, and any others you wish. We shall not take arms against our Prince. But you will return to the Kingdom.”

Blood at Mym’s mouth. The berserkers went wild at the taste of blood.…

“Mym!” Orb screamed, understanding. “They are only doing their duty! You must go with them!”

He heard her. He turned his head to the side and spat out the blood. It was evident that he could berserk, and the officer knew it, but that he had it under control. He took the sword, reversed it, and returned it to the officer.

Then Mym turned to Orb. “I will return to you,” he sang. “Until that time, I give you this.” He brought out a ring that was in the form of a tiny green snake.

“But what is it?” It was as if they were two actors on a stage, and she was watching from an audience; she could hardly believe that this was happening.

“Wear it, and it will answer any question. One squeeze for yes, two for no, three if neither applies. It will also protect you.” And in his hand the ring came to life, the little snake slithering across from his palm to hers, rearing up and hissing as if to bite. Then it coiled around one of her fingers and became cold metal again.

“Until you return,” she said, his face blurring as her tears sprang forth.

He embraced her and kissed her deeply. Then he went with the officer. He mounted a fine horse that bad been brought for him, paused to wave to Orb and to the others of the troupe who had befriended him, and rode away.