Being a Green Mother (22 page)

“Then she—?”

“Loves you,” Orb finished. “To whatever extent such a creature can. But she feels unworthy.”

“She’d have to be a hell of a lot lower than that to be unworthy of
me
!” he exclaimed.

Then the fish nudged down. They were at the hall where the engagement was supposed to be. In fact they were
in
the hall; Jonah was delivering them right to the stage. Orb could see the others there, gazing up.

“We have to go,” Orb said.

“Yeh.” The guitarist got up. But he pointed a finger at Jezebel. “This isn’t over,” he said.

She just looked sadly at him.

Orb and the guitarist hurried on out, stepping from the mouth directly onto the stage. They took their normal places, and the show went on.

In a few days there was an item in the local newspaper describing the mysterious manner in which a contingent from
the Livin’ Sludge had pacified the psychotic ward with a single song. The patients had shown much improvement, and many had taken to painting pictures of sunflowers.

Similarly the scheduled concert had started off uncertainly, but developed into a rousing success when the absent members reappeared. Only two of the early numbers had the magic, but all of the later ones did. The reviewers were uncertain why, but Orb and the others worked it out when they compared notes.

Orb had sung twice in that period: once to stave off the awful hungers of her companions, and once for the psycho ward. At the times she had done that, the remaining Sludge had come alive. The magic had reached out to them, too, enabling them to thrill the audience.

She also had private conversations with Jezebel and the guitarist. Nothing had been said to the others about that aspect of recent developments.

“This is ridiculous,” the succubus said. “Demons can’t love!”

“And you do?”

“Even if I were mortal, I’d be four or five times his age!”

“And it makes no difference?”

“I’ve always hated my nature! I did it because I had to. When I got free of that, here in Jonah, I knew I’d never do it again, as long as I had any choice!”

“And now you want to?”

“Not by day. But by night it’s driving me crazy! Not the—that hasn’t changed. But I just want to be with him, to please him, and if that pleases him …”

Orb remembered how it had been with Mym. “Then why don’t you go to him?”

“And corrupt him? I’d rather die! Anyway, what future can there be in it? How could I face him by day, with the others knowing?”

Orb shook her head. She didn’t know.

But when she talked with the guitarist, the answer came clearer. “I know she swore off that stuff the moment she could, but God, I wish I could be with her, you know, just—I mean I wouldn’t have to touch her, I don’t want to make her hate it, but if I could just be with her at night …”

“What about the day?” Orb inquired.

“Yeh. That’s rough, too. I wish it could be like now. I
mean, nobody knowing. She’s just the cook. But at night—you know, secret love. Nobody knowing that either.”

Orb took a deep breath. She felt responsible, because her song had triggered this. “Go to her at night. She will keep your secret.”

“But she doesn’t want—I mean—”

“Yes she does. She feels about you as you feel about her, the awkwardness and everything. Secret love—that seems best.”

“You mean it?” he asked incredulously.

“You did a very nice thing, when you gave away your H. Perhaps this is your reward.”

“But—”

“Go to her,” Orb said firmly.

He looked as if he had just received news of a phenomenal inheritance. “If you’re sure—”

“Just remember her nature. We won’t be in Jonah forever, and then she will revert to her normal state. What I did was only temporary. Even if you stay with her then, you will have to share her, in her fashion.”

He nodded soberly. “Better a little time than none,” he said. “I do know her nature.”

Orb was left to her own thoughts. Back in Ireland, she would never have thought she would send any man to a succubus, not even a drug addict. But she had learned something of the ways of life and love and had become less judgmental. Every person was caught in the web of circumstance, and right and wrong became matters of opinion. If a man who thought himself worthless had found someone who thought otherwise, and if a creature who had been a slave to sex now was discovering the positive side of it, where was the evil?

Evil. That reminded her of the prophecy—she might marry Evil. Others had taken that to mean she would be the bride of Satan. Orb doubted that; as far as she knew, Satan had never married, and certainly she would never do such a thing. So the obvious interpretation had to be wrong, and some more devious one would eventually manifest.

And what would that be? That she would marry an evil man? Why would she do that? She was getting over her loss of Mym; time had passed, after all, and she had another life now. But he set the standard for her; she could not get interested in a lesser man.

Ah, but interest had not been specified. Suppose she married for some reason other than love? Yet what could that be? She would not do it for money, certainly!

But perhaps she would do it for good. If she discovered that she could do a great deal of good in the world by making a token marriage with an evil man—

She shook off the notion. The prophecy simply didn’t make much sense, so the sensible thing to do was to dismiss it. What would be, would be, and surely the truth would turn out to be other than the implication.

Already there were strange aspects, though. She was a musician, utilizing her natural talent of magic projection to amplify her trained talent of music. But now her magic was spreading to the whole group she was with, and sometimes even when she was not close by. This most recent series of events, where she had seemingly put a hold on both the succubus’ nature and the drug addict’s craving—that was more than music! She knew, in a way, what she had done; she had borrowed from Jonah, copying the manner he held those urges in abeyance. She didn’t understand the mechanism, but somehow her magic had read it and brought it to them. Still, that was a power she either had not had before or had not known she had.

Jonah—why had the big fish deserted them for that period? He had spit them out at the wrong place, then come for them later. Could that be coincidence?

Hardly! That session had put Orb on the spot and forced her to extend herself, drawing on her magic. The fish’s lateness in picking them up from their shopping trip had had a similar effect; she had done some good for those who were trying to collect money for a good purpose. Jonah must have known!

Was the big fish trying to guide her? Why?

Then, perhaps, she understood—the Llano. They all wanted to find that magical song. There must be some way to do that, which Orb could use—if she first mastered the full powers of her own magic. If she found the Llano, so would Jonah.

“Very well, Jonah,” she murmured. “I will seek to explore and develop my full potential. You help me when you can.”

There was no response by the big fish, but Orb knew she
had in him an ally and perhaps a friend. She needed that support, for though she was back in a group, with constant activity, she was lonely. If only Mym had been able to—

Orb found herself crying, for no apparent reason.

Some months later Orb happened to see a picture on a page of a newspaper. She froze.
That was Mym
!

She read the caption. PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF INDIA VISIT, it said.

Now she looked at the woman in the picture. She was indeed a princess, regal and stunningly beautiful.

This was the marriage they had arranged for her beloved. Orb forced herself to read the article and learned that the Princess was his betrothed, called a complex Indian name that translated to “Rapture of Malachite,” and indeed she wore malachite, costly green stones. The Prince had a speech affectation, so the Princess did most of the talking, eloquently expressing the sentiments that he unobtrusively signaled to her. They had come to negotiate a loan for their nations, and their prospects were very good, for the Prince was forceful and clever despite his affectation, and the Princess most persuasive. When she leaned forward to make one of the Prince’s points, even the most cynical official paid close attention.

Orb noted the woman’s evident cleavage. Of course the official paid attention!

But this was a showcase liaison, intended to appeal to westerners. Was there any genuine feeling involved?

Orb stared at the picture and into the picture, feeling her magic reach through it and to the reality beyond. The picture was old; she felt that now; it was a dated newspaper. But still she felt the reality behind it. There was love there. Mym did love her, and she loved him.

Orb felt something breaking in her. Of course she was happy for Mym, she told herself. She wanted him happy, whatever his situation. The woman was blameless and good; no fault in her. But oh, the hurt, even after all this time!

She had to get away from here for a time, to be by herself. Far away!

Her vision blurred. Her mind seemed to blur, too. Somewhere in the far distance she heard a melody, and she knew
it was a fragment of the Llano. She tuned in on it and felt her whole body blurring.

She seemed to expand, diffusing across the chamber, then across the giant body of the fish. She remained herself, but larger, and her substance thinned as her dimensions increased. She seemed to be no more than fog, now as large as Jonah, now larger.

She continued to diffuse, becoming so large that Jonah was only an object intersecting her torso. There was no discomfort; she seemed to occupy a different plane, able to overlap without contact. There was wind, but it did not bother her either. There were clouds, and her substance phased through them without resistance. Simultaneously it extended down to the ground and beneath it, completing a phenomenal sphere. No, not a sphere—a shaped representation of herself. She grew and grew, and thinned and thinned, yet her identity remained. She was the most monstrous of invisible giants!

Her center remained within the fish, but the fish was now a minnow, entirely contained within her body. Near her geographic center, which was—never mind! Still she expanded, her legs plunging down through the globe that was the world, her head reaching up beyond the sky. She was increasing at a greater rate, a geometric rate, doubling her size every second or so, as fast as she might want.

She became so vast that the globe itself began to seem confining. Her feet poked out through the bottom of it, and she stood with it slowly turning around her legs and getting smaller, casting its shadow into space. She was larger than all the world!

But she had been in quest of something—a sound, a melody. Where was it? She bent to peer down, cocked her ear, and tuned it in, faintly. It was from the surface of the great Pacific Ocean, a spot just within her right thigh. She put her finger on it. “Here,” she said.

Her word did not sound, for her head was beyond the effective atmosphere, but it had meaning, for it was backed by her will. She began to shrink, but not as she had grown. Her center of awareness was at her finger now, and she was coalescing about that. The world expanded much faster than it had shrunk, and she closed precipitously on the spot.

Then, abruptly, she was there. She stood on a tiny isle in
the sea, beside an inlet, and in the inlet was a single lovely sponge, growing just beneath the water’s surface. It was from it that the evocative sound came.

Orb squatted. A musical sponge?

Then she came to her senses. What was she doing here, and how had she come? She was alone on a Pacific isle, with no other land in sight, no civilization. She might have imagined her diffusion and condensation, but this was real!

She walked around the island, finding only sand and rocks. Wind blew back her hair. The sun shone down. She picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. It splashed. Reality.

Well, she had wanted to be alone. The melody had come from an alone-place. She had sought it and found it. Now what was she to do?

What had caused her to seek isolation? Oh, yes—the picture of Mym. But already that jolt was passing; he was happy with his new life, and she was no part of it, and that was the way it had to be. The little snake-ring had informed her truly; she had seen him again, but not as before. That aspect of her existence was done.

It was amazing how quickly she found herself accepting that. She must have been ready for it, merely awaiting the signal. She was free of Mym, to the extent she needed to be; she could now seek other romance.

With Satan? She kicked the sand with sudden anger. No! That prophecy could have no validity! She would seek her own, and to Hell with Satan!

Well. So nice to have decided. Now how did she get back home to Jonah?

She came again to the inlet. She peered into the calm water. There was the sponge, its faint music continuing.

“That music brought me here,” she said aloud. “It must be part of the Llano. Magic. But how do I return?”

She tried to remember what she had done before, but could not. She had just, somehow, expanded—and contracted here. Thus she had in a few seconds traveled thousands of kilometers.

Now she was stuck here, no longer wishing to be alone. The wind was picking up, stirring the waves. Clouds were shaping overhead, possibly considering a storm. She had no shelter, no umbrella, no mackintosh. No food, no company. Except for the sponge.

She peered down at it. The water was becoming turbulent here as the wind whipped the waves across. “What are you going to do when your water starts frothing?” she asked it.

The music of the sponge intensified. It began to grow.

“You!” Orb exclaimed. “I emulated that technique from you!”

The sponge continued to grow, fading as it did so. It became an expanding shadow of itself, projecting a gauzy portion above the water. Soon it enlarged itself out of sight; there was only thinning mist where it had been, and then nothing.

“Wait for me!” Orb cried. She concentrated, tuning in on the music, joining it, becoming part of it.