Being a Green Mother (39 page)

“Mars is easy to love,” Ligeia said.

“Amen,” Orb said.

“So glad to find you in such agreement,” Mym said from the doorway, startling all three women.

Ligeia recovered first. “Orb was about to sing for us,” she said. “Then she must talk with you.”

“No.”

Again all three were startled. Again, Ligeia recovered. “She came to consult as an Incarnation, Mym. You can not deny her that.”

“That, no,” he said. “It is the song I may not hear.”

“You used to like my singing,” Orb remarked, perplexed.

“My love for you never died,” he said seriously. “It was superseded, but it remains. I know the power of your music. If I heard it again, I would desire you above this woman and this creature, and that would prejudice our relationship. Talk with me; do not sing to me.”

“I think he is making sense,” Lilith said to Ligeia. “She was his first love, and now she is more than she was.”

“We shall leave them to talk,” Ligeia agreed.

“No need,” Orb said quickly. “I wanted only to consult about my present situation. I invoked the Song of Chaos, and when it threatened to drown the world, I invoked it again, hoping to cause it to pass more swiftly. It seemed to end, and that worries me; I can not believe that Chaos can be abated simply by reinvocation. Can Chaos cancel itself out?”

“I doubt it,” Mym said. “But I may know whom to ask.”

“Who?” Orb asked, hardly daring to believe that there was a ready source of the information she needed.

“The Purgatory computer. It knows everything; the only problem is getting it to respond relevantly.”

“I have not had much experience with computers,” Orb said doubtfully.

“It seems to be a demonic device. Lilith should be able to make it behave.”

“I can try,” the demoness agreed.

“I would take you myself, but it is too difficult to be close to you for long,” Mym said. “What is past must remain past.”

“Yes,” Orb said, flattered. She had embraced the pseudo-Mym of the vision, but this reality left her with a better self-image.

“This way,” Lilith said. “We can walk; it is close by.”

Orb remembered something. “You emulated me—for him?”

“He is not joking about the effect you have on him,” the demoness said. “He would never have left you if he had been given any choice. I emulate any woman he asks me to, but when I did you, he just looked at me with such longing and sadness that even I, who have no true human emotions, was discomfited. He did not touch me then, afraid of what passion might resurge in him that could never be truly gratified.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Orb said.

They entered an impressive building and made their way to the computer room. Lilith activated the machine.

BY WHAT AUTHORITY DO YOU TOY WITH ME, REFUGEE FROM HELL
? the screen printed.

“I’m helping an Incarnation,” Lilith retorted with satisfaction. “The new Gaea.”

AH, THE DAUGHTER OF FATE. WHAT A MESS YOU ARE MAKING OF THE MORTAL REALM
!

Orb found it strange, addressing a screen of print, but she had to respond to this. “I am coming to you for help to alleviate that mess.”

ONLY CHRONOS CAN ALLEVIATE IT, IF HE WILL
.

So there was a way to stop this! “Why wouldn’t he?”

HE HAS A PERSONAL REASON
.

“What is that?”

A MACHINE DOES NOT PROPERLY COMPREHEND HUMAN MOTIVATIONS
.

“Well, then, I’ll just go and ask Chronos to help.”

LOTS OF LUCK
, the screen printed sardonically.

“Ligeia was right,” Orb muttered. “It
is
a demonic device.”

“I’m sure it would do well in Hell,” Lilith said.

LOOK WHO’S TALKING
. Then the machine clicked off.

“Now how do I locate Chronos?” Orb asked. “I presume he has a castle or something here in Purgatory.”

“He does, but others don’t go to it unless invited. It is best to put out a call for him and wait until he answers. We can do that for you; I’m sure he will come to you in due course.”

Orb sighed. “At least I know that someone can help. I thank you and Ligeia for your assistance.”

“We remain in your debt,” the demoness said. “You helped make Mym what he is, and he is our—” She paused, evidently trying to say a word.

“Salvation?”

Lilith nodded. “Sometimes I almost forget my origin. There are words I can not utter.”

“I understand. Another demoness is my friend; perhaps you will be, too.”

“I can see why Mym loves you.”

Orb gave her a hug, and the demoness clung to her for a moment as a lost child might. Then Orb turned the page back to Nature’s Abode.

This time she decided to explore it more thoroughly. She still felt most at home in Jonah, but knew that she would have to get used to her Purgatory residence. Unfortunately the tree-shape of it reminded her of the hamadryad’s tree in the swamp in Ireland, and that grieved her. Abruptly she turned another page, to Jonah.

He was back underground. “The weather is picking up again,” Jezebel said.

Orb went to Miami. The weather was worsening; there was no rain, and the water level had receded somewhat; the ambient temperature was down, but gale-force winds were battering the buildings. The water had eroded the foundations of a number of buildings, and more rubble was in evidence. The city was still in serious trouble.

She checked Lou-Mae. The room was a disaster area. Most of the occupants, including both the drummer and Lou-Mae’s mother, were down with the fever, sprawled across the floor. Lou-Mae herself was unaffected and was working valiantly to attend to those who could not help themselves. Orb suspected that it was not natural immunity, but the Magician’s amulet that was protecting her from the ravages of the pestilence.

There was an odor. The building’s sanitary facilities had evidently failed with the loss of power, and this surely fostered the pestilence. But until the water receded and left the building dry, there was nowhere for the people to go. Those who had sought the high ground had retreated to whatever buildings were there, in the face of the rising winds.

There seemed to be nothing she could do. She knew that Lou-Mae would not desert her mother or the others and she could not transport the group of them to another place. She could only hope that the winds died down before the waves became too violent.

She turned a page to France. Here, too, the winds were increasing and the temperature was dropping. Tinka and her husband seemed to be all right.

The level of the sea around India was dropping. This eased the plight of those whose land had been inundated, but the mermaid’s grotto was being uncovered. The mermaid would soon be in trouble if she didn’t move to deeper water before being isolated.

The storms were developing all around the world, battering the limited shelters of the people suffering from the plague. Orb understood now that the Chaos had not ended; it had only been changing course. Now the new course was progressing, and the storms might be the result of that change. Air that had been heating was now cooling, and ice that had been melting was reforming. The polar caps, almost depleted, were growing again. The winds were the result of the developing inversions of temperature, as air masses tried to equalize and could not.

The seacoast cities of the world were getting battered. Buildings that had withstood the rising waters now were collapsing as the wind drove the waves across with new force.

Orb turned a page back to Miami. The city was like a battle zone. Monstrous waves crashed across, even though the
water level was down. The sea was doing more damage to the foundations now than before, because the constant surging and retreating of the waves tore at the ground in ways that the standing water had not. Several fragments of concrete were being thrown into the melee, gouging out more of itself.

She went to the building where Lou-Mae and her mother and the drummer were. The situation was worse; a number of the patients were dead. Efforts to help the sick had ceased; too few well people remained. In fact, the only one completely free of the malady was Lou-Mae. She was holding the drummer, trying to comfort him, but Orb could see that he had lapsed into unconsciousness or worse. His skin was discolored, his face was swollen so badly that he could not have opened his eyes, and there was blood on his shirt where he had been coughing. The others were no better off.

Meanwhile, the wind buffeted the building. Every time a wave struck, the room shook. There were sounds of things falling, and Orb experienced the sickening feeling of settling. This building was about to go!

“Lou-Mae, you have to get out of here!” Orb exclaimed.

“I can’t! Mama’s dead, and Danny-Boy’s dying! I can’t leave them!”

“But you can’t help them! The plague—”

Lou-Mae just held the drummer, as if she could infuse health back into him. Orb could make no further impression on her.

A larger wave crashed outside—and the building went. It shuddered, and the floor tilted. The steel supports groaned as they twisted out of place; the ceiling tore from its moorings and sagged down. Things fell down from the story above—things like bodies.

The bodies on this floor started sliding, the drummer with them. Lou-Mae tried to hold him, but only started sliding down herself. The wall buckled and a panel sprang loose; suddenly there was nothing between the interior and the drop-off to the raging ocean several stories below.

Orb tried to hold the woman, tried to turn the page, but found herself alone; she still could not take anyone with her. She turned back, rejoining Lou-Mae. “Jonah!” she cried. “Here to me!” Then she hung on to Lou-Mae as they all slid down the increasing slope. The bodies were funneling
in toward the open panel, jamming against each other; this slowed progress, but not enough.

Then the head of the big fish appeared, poking through the building. Orb hauled Lou-Mae up physically—she could still do that!—and dragged her into the mouth. When the woman was safely on inside, Orb tried to go back for the drummer, but it was too late; the upper stories were collapsing, and everything was going down in stages.

“Danny-Boy!” Lou-Mae cried, trying to launch herself back out, but Jonah had closed his mouth. She clawed at the flesh, screaming, but could not get through.

Meanwhile the building was settling into rubble. Orb watched it through the transparent scales. Another wave crashed through, accelerating the process. Even had the occupants been well, few could have survived this. The drummer was gone.

Jezebel appeared. “Take Lou-Mae to her chamber and try to get her to sleep,” Orb said. “She—the others are dead.” She sounded cold to herself, but it was horror inside.

The succubus put her arm around Lou-Mae. “I wish I could feel what you feel,” she said.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Orb replied, and turned the page to Betsy’s farm.

Her worst fear was realized. The storms were raging here, too. Something very like a hurricane was blasting across the plain, lifting the drying soil and hurling it in clouds against anything that offered. The day was dusky because of it. Orb had to brace herself against the fierce wind and squint to keep out the particles of grit.

Betsy’s farm was taking a beating. Whatever remained of the crop after the flood was now being swept away by the wind. The house was under siege, as the wind tore at its edges. The gusts were so strong that Orb found herself blown along. She wasn’t hurt, as her office made her invulnerable to physical harm, but any other person would have been at risk.

She made her way awkwardly to the house and knocked on the door. Such was the noise of the storm that she could hardly hear the knock herself; she was sure the occupants couldn’t hear it. So she expanded until she was diffuse enough to pass through the wall, then coalesced inside.

No one was there. Surprised, then alarmed, Orb looked
around. Where could they have gone? Surely they hadn’t been caught outside by surprise!

Then she realized that farms on the plains were accustomed to handling storms. There should be a safe place to hide.

Betsy and the organist and her family were there, waiting out the storm in a small cellar designed for this purpose. There was still water standing on its floor, but this was a small penalty for the security it provided. They seemed to have escaped the plague; this region had not been as good for the multiplication of the spores.

“I don’t know how bad it’s going to get,” Orb said. “But I’m afraid it will be very bad.”

“We’ll ride it out,” Betsy said bravely. “How are the others doing?”

This was the question Orb had dreaded, but she had to answer it. “Miami—is gone. The waves—”

Both Betsy and the organist were stricken. “Lou-Mae—” Betsy whispered.

“I got her back to Jonah. But the others—”

“Oh, damn,” the organist muttered, knowing his friend was dead.

The wind intensified, howling past with frightening force. It seemed to be trying to lift the house off its foundation.

“You had better get clear,” Betsy said to Orb. “Thanks for stopping by.” It was evident that she had no intention of leaving, though she knew there was a place for her and the organist in Jonah. This was the family farm; there might have been a time when Betsy wanted to leave it, but now she would stay here.

Orb turned the page to France. Here the situation was worse; trees were down, and the wind had blown the wagon away. Tinka and her husband and baby were huddled against a firm face of rock, covered by a blanket. The force of the wind was diminished here; the bulk of the mountain intercepted it.

Orb decided to leave them alone; they were as well off as anyone. She went on to India.

Here the wind had hastened the outflow of water, and the land all around the mermaid’s grotto was dry. Evidently it had happened too swiftly for the mermaid to escape; she was
stranded. At first Orb feared she was dead, but she was only avoiding the fierce wind by lying flat.

“I will help you reach a better place,” Orb screamed over the wind. “The sea—”

“The sea is too turbulent above,” the mermaid screamed back. “And too cold below. I need a pool!”