Being a Green Mother (26 page)

He sang it, his voice rising so fine and clear and full that Orb felt a wash of joy flow through her. She recognized the
second theme that Satan had sung, but this time it was beautiful instead of grim. She could have picked it up before, if she had realized how she could use it. As it was, she had been terrified, too desperate to escape to make proper note of such a thing.

Nat finished, and Orb settled down with her harp, improvising an accompaniment, and sang it. She could feel the partial power of it as she did so; this was definitely an aspect of the Llano!

When she was done, he sat beside her. “I had thought your magic was a bit less than mine, but with that instrument it is more. How came you by that harp?”

“It was given me by the Mountain King,” she said. “It enhances my magic, so that I can enchant an audience.”

“You have enchanted me,” he agreed. “How is it possible that you, hearing a theme once, can sing such a compelling rendition? I required many rehearsals to master it.”

Orb shrugged, flattered. “It is my nature.”

“I think I am glad I rescued you,” he said. “Tell me, if this is not too forward—”

“I am unmarried,” Orb said, flushing. “Otherwise I think Satan would not have—”

“Of course,” he agreed immediately. “I should have realized. You need never marry until you wish to, now. Let me say candidly that all I know about you now is your appearance and your voice, but that these are sufficient to provoke my interest. May I court you?”

Orb was startled, but held her composure. After all, she had been approached by men before as abruptly. Her reaction was less because of the expressed interest, or the courtly manner of its expression, than because of her realization that she was more than casually receptive. It was true that Nat had just saved her from a horrible fate and perhaps nullified a long-time prophecy: “One may marry Evil.” How important that word “may” was! The issue had been in doubt, and the doubt had been resolved. Yet it would be safer to be married, so that Satan had no ready route to that objective. Even if that were not the case, Nat was an extremely interesting and talented man. “You may,” she breathed.

“I thank you for that permission, Orb,” he said. “Considering that, let me sing you the Song of Awakening.”

“I don’t think I know that one,” she said.

“It is another aspect of the Llano that I have discovered in my questing. I must warn you that, like all the aspects of that song, it is potent.”

“I want to learn all of the Llano,” Orb said.

“I don’t know whether any single person has learned all the parts of it, let alone mastered them,” he said seriously. “I understand that its entirety is as complex and varied as life itself. Few are even capable of singing the least of it, though some in moments of special inspiration or need do rise to the occasion.”

“So I understand,” Orb agreed. “Yet what a challenge!”

“What a challenge!” he echoed, his voice suffused with longing. “If the parts can do what they do, what might the whole accomplish? I have dedicated my life to that pursuit.”

“So have I,” Orb said.

“Then I will sing you the Song of Awakening, and may the consequence be on our heads,” he said with a smile. “I did warn you.”

“You did,” she agreed.

He stood, took two steps forward, and turned to face down the hill. He breathed deeply, setting himself. Then he sang.

From the first note, the magic manifested, holding her almost breathless, stunned by its beauty and anticipation. She had never heard a finer voice or finer theme! She seemed to become one with the environment, breathing its melody.

The sound spread out like a living blanket, and the world went dark. Orb was surprised, but not alarmed; the feeling was good and more than good. She felt the magic surrounding her, suffusing her, filling all the world about her, building up for what she knew would be a thrilling culmination. She knew already that every story ever told about the Llano was true; its power now seemed infinite.

There was a gleam of light to the side. It broadened and brightened, turning red. It illumined the nether sides of dark clouds, and rays passed between them to touch other clouds, causing them to glow like stately hanging embers. The red became orange, and amber, and the surrounding light spread out to animate the ground. It was the sunrise.

Now Orb recognized the melody; it was the Song of the Morning! The music she had first heard as a child, that had brought her out to the field and the forest and the river for
her adventure with the water sprites. She had heard it often thereafter, but in recent years she had been caught up in other matters and didn’t go out to the natural country at dawn. What a delight this was to discover her old friend in this new guise! Of course it was an aspect of the Llano; she had always known that, but had never thought it could be evoked by human voice. Nat had brought her a treasure!

The sunrise broadened to light the landscape, the rays of the slowly lifting sun spearing out past the bank of clouds they heated to touch the ground. At each touch, a secondary glow manifested, the turf and rock developing preternatural clarity and colors, seeming more real than before. Dew glistened, striking delicate fire, forming a field of sparkling gems, seemingly more precious in its transience than any stone could be. Tiny spider webs became chains of miniature beads.

The great, brilliant ball of the sun appeared, that transcendent orb after whose pale sister Orb herself had been named. It was too bright to look at; yet in this vision, she could do so without pain, appreciating its might while shielded from its harm.

A ray came down and touched her directly, illuminating a circle about her. She was bathed in its warm brightness, becoming more colorful herself, feeling more beautiful. It was as if she had come into existence at this moment, or had been renewed in better form. She was—awakening.

The song continued, harmonizing in its fashion with the natural things within its ambiance. The ground stirred before Orb; she watched closely and saw new shoots coming up, breaking through the turf. The stems spread, branching, thickening, reaching, taking in the strengthening beam of the sun, putting out leaves that broadened and angled themselves to catch the slanting light.

Buds formed, expanded, and opened into flowers of all colors. Some suggested roses, some tulips, and some orchids, but they were not; they were simply the magic flowers of the morning, their loveliness for her eyes alone.

Orb looked around. The entire landscape had turned verdant, thickly grown with flowers. She was in a garden, the massed fragrance of the flowers adding to her joy.

Then at last the song ended. It had not been long, objectively;
her experience of it had dilated her awareness and delight.

She gazed at Natasha, the source of this wondrous experience. She had not realized how handsome he was! “I never knew it could be sung,” she murmured.

“I will teach it to you,” he said.

“I think—not now.” she said. “I—have had enough experience for one day. I think I had better return home.”

“Of course,” he said, coming to her and extending his hand to help her stand.

As she stood, the flowers faded. The relatively barren landscape returned. Even the hill was gone; they were standing in the featureless plain of the Llano. Far away, near the horizon, she spied Jonah swimming toward her.

“But I will see you again,” she told Nat.

“Certainly,” he agreed.

She walked toward the big fish. When she paused to look back, Natasha was gone.

– 11 –

She told the others, of course, for the pursuit of the Llano was their common mission. Even Betsy, who had known nothing of it at first, had become interested as she realized what it could do for the organist and her folks’ farm.

They were also interested in Natasha. “You’re the only loose cog aboard, you know,” the drummer remarked. “Everyone else has paired off, one way or another. But maybe we should meet this guy, just to be sure he’s right for you.”

“You have no authority over my social life!” Orb exclaimed indignantly.

“Yes we do,” Lou-Mae said. “Because we care.”

That undermined her righteous ire. “I really don’t know much about him, except that he’s the finest singer I ever met and he knows aspects of the Llano.”

“And he saved you from Satan,” Jezebel added. “That’s enough to recommend him by itself. Only—”

“Only what?” Orb asked, aware that the succubus might have an important qualification.

“Well, you know I’m a demon. I didn’t ask to be, any more than the rest of you asked to be human. I’m not of Satan’s camp; demons come in many varieties, just as mortal
creatures do. But some things—are more demonic than others.”

“Whatcha saying, woman?” the guitarist asked. “You think Nat’s a demon?”

“It is possible,” she said. “If I could meet him, I could tell.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Orb said, dismayed. “A demon?”

“Demons can do things that mortals can’t. Like singing—you know how we can change our forms. Well, some of us can change our voices, too. Our substance is more malleable; and, of course, eternity allows us to perfect something, if we work at it.”

“But not all demons are bad,” the guitarist said, evidently sensitive about this matter.

Jezebel smiled. It was night now, and she was in her sultry stage. “That depends on how you see it. To some, I am the most evil of creatures, because—”

“Well, they don’t know anything!” he said. “You just never had a chance, before you got aboard Jonah.”

“True. But still, it is not wise to trust a demon before you know him well. We don’t know what motivates this Natasha, and if anything happened to Orb—”

“But it’s only speculation that he’s a demon!” Orb protested.

“Still, maybe it would be better to be sure,” the drummer said. “We don’t want to interfere, but if we could just get to know him, maybe …” He trailed off.

“I will ask him to come and meet you, next time I see him,” Orb promised, knowing there was justice in their doubt.

Meanwhile, she practiced the Song of Awakening, which she knew as the Song of the Morning. The others were awed as the miraculous sound filled the fish and caused the chamber to darken, then brought the beautiful dawn and the sprouting of plants and blooming of flowers. It was illusion, of course, that faded slowly after the song was done, but a marvelous one. As Orb perfected it, the effect intensified, so that it was hard not to believe in its reality.

“You know,” Betsy said, “the time may come when you do it so well that it will become real, and dawn will come a second time in one morning.” She was a farm girl and really appreciated nature.

Orb laughed, but privately she wondered. The Song of Awakening was the human version, while the Song of Morning was nature’s version. There were surely ramifications that she did not know, but if she perfected them, so that her version more closely approached the natural one, it might indeed have that effect. After all, the Song of Travel enabled her to jump across the globe. The magic music did relate to real things, when properly executed.

She thought also about Natasha. It had not been coincidence that he had rescued her from Satan, for she had sung a portion of a fragment of the Llano, and he was attuned to the Llano. But it had been a most important event in her life, for Satan had indeed trapped her and almost completed the prophecy. She had a common interest with Natasha in the Llano, as she did with the members of the Livin’ Sludge and with Jezebel and Betsy—and with Jonah. That interest bound them all together, however diverse their origins and natures. But it was more than that, for Nat was a handsome and talented man, and she was without a man. She had not felt deprived, but now her interest was quickening. His Song of Awakening, presented as courtship, had indeed moved her.

Now she remembered her childhood vision. A wedding! She had never thought of it in the excitement and horror of Satan’s attempted forced ceremony; and indeed, that had not been the wedding of the dream. Mym had not been there to conduct her down the aisle. But if she—with Natasha—could it be? Then what of the other part of the dream, the devastated world?

And if Natasha were nonhuman—what then? She could not dismiss Jezebel’s warning. The succubus was in a position to know. A demon was a creature of a different order from the human. The sprites were of the demon kind, and the dryads, different phyla of the Demon Kingdom. They varied as widely as did the creatures of the Animal Kingdom, or the plants of the Vegetable Kingdom, or the stones of the Mineral Kingdom. Just as she could love a pretty flower or a sparkling gem, she could love a demon like the hamadryad of the water oak. No, demons were not by definition evil! But to develop a romantic relationship with one—that was another matter.

Was she prejudiced, she asked herself. The guitarist had a romantic relation with the succubus, and Orb could not
fault it; Jezebel was a good woman in every human sense of the word, as long as her passions were under control. Why should Orb feel that the kind of relationship that was good for a fellow human being should be bad for her? She couldn’t answer that, except to acknowledge that she could not accept it for herself with equanimity. Perhaps a relationship was possible, but she would first have to know for certain exactly what Nat was. If human, fine; if demon, she would have to consider longer before deciding how or whether to proceed.