Being a Green Mother (41 page)

“I am sorry for your tragedy, of course,” Orb said. “But I do not see how it relates to me. Meanwhile, I have a most pressing problem in my present, not my future.”

“But your present affects your future, and therefore my past. The woman I loved, and will always love, is alive today, as a child. Her name is Orlene.”

It was as if cold water had been dashed on her. “Who?”

“Your daughter—who in her adulthood rather resembles you as you are now. That is why I find your natural appearance so disconcerting.”

Orb thought of her reaction to her encounters with Mym, both real and in emulation. “I understand. But—my daughter?” This was such a surprising development that she was still assimilating it.

“As a woman of twenty. Old enough to know her mind. She had a magic talent, the ability to perceive the best matches in people, as if the people glowed. I glowed, for her.” He leaned over and put his face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice muffled by his fingers. “It has been long since I have spoken of her.”

Orb gazed at him with a certain compassion. Her baby girl—as a woman this man had loved! Now at last she knew Orlene’s future!

And Orlene had died—would die prematurely, in tragedy. That was the second shock. Her death precipitating this man’s assumption of his present office. No wonder he was concerned about Orb’s reaction! If she acted to save Orlene, by diverting her from the ghost marriage, Chronos might never become Chronos!

Her eye fell on the ring on Chronos’ finger. The one that looked like the ring Mym had given Orb and that she had given to her daughter. Orlene had given it to him, as a signal of her love for him!

Or was it another imitation? Beset by a sudden intense curiosity, Orb extended her hand to touch the ring.

It came to life immediately, uncurling and sliding from Chronos’ hand to hers. It coiled about her finger.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

The ring squeezed once.

Of course it could be lying—another ring of the type, pretending to be the one she had owned. But she doubted it.

“What he says is true?”

Squeeze.

“You could not help my daughter?”

Squeeze.

Orb put her own face in her hands, sobbing silently. For a time she remained thus. When she recovered, the ring was back on Chronos’ finger. It was his, now, by the right of the chain of love.

She found Chronos looking at her. “Now you understand,” he said. “I dare not change her future; therein lies paradox.”

“But she
has
no future, if the weather continues!” Orb protested. “She may already be dead!”

“That need not be final.”

“Not final! What is more final than death?”

“Time.”

“But if she dies, your paradox is already upon you! You must save her.”

“No, I may not interfere with the natural order where it concerns my own past. That would risk a disaster worse than we can know.”

“But—but if you have experienced the future—how can this present holocaust be reconciled with that?”

“It can’t.”

“You are talking riddles! You can’t meet and love a woman who was killed in her childhood!”

“There is a way through. That is what I must accept.”

“You live backwards! You have already experienced it! What happens? How can this be undone?”

“There is no problem about the how. I can act at a later time—an earlier time, for you—and nullify this particular path. The problem is the why. Only with the advice and consent of the other Incarnations will I take such an action, for it affects us all.”

“You don’t know whether you did it? Will do it?”

“Because the action I will take affects my own past, I can not be sure what has happened in my past. There is a region of uncertainty, where the lines of history diverge and tangle.
Nothing is absolutely fixed. In one of those lines the decision will be made, and it will guide what I will do in your past.”

“You have no notion at all what is going to happen?”

“Only that the ultimate decision was yours. I acted as the Incarnations agreed, after you decided. I believe it was the correct decision.”

“So I can save the world?”

“So it seems.”

Orb realized that this was as much of an answer as she was going to receive. “If I can save it, I will save it,” she declared. “No matter what.”

“I am not sure of that,” he replied.

“Not sure—!” But she decided not to react further in his presence. She turned the page back to Jonah.

Jezebel was there. “Who are you?” she asked, startled.

“What do you mean, who am I?” Orb said. Then she realized that she was still in her new, mature form. Hastily she willed herself back to normal.

“You have learned a new trick,” Jezebel remarked.

“Yes, it seems I have.”

“You look tired. Let me fix you something to eat, and you can rest.”

“I don’t know whether I’m tired or not, now,” Orb said. “After that meeting with Chronos, my mind is spinning!”

“Chronos is going to help?”

“He won’t commit himself! He says that I will be the one to decide. But—oh, it’s all so frustrating!”

“Well, eat,” Jezebel said, setting some toast before her.

Orb looked at the watch on the wrist of the demoness. Surprised, she looked at her own. “I think your watch has stopped,” she said. “It’s two hours behind mine.”

“Oh?” Jezebel compared the two, then went for a desk clock. The clock agreed with Jezebel’s watch. “I think yours has gained.”

“Gained? How could it?”

Jezebel shrugged. “You have been traveling all around the world. Perhaps it got jogged.”

“I suppose,” Orb agreed. She reset her watch.

She discovered that she had gulped down her toast in short order. “I can’t sit here while that’s out there,” she muttered, and turned the page to Fate’s Abode.

The oriental woman was there, as before. “May I talk to my mother again?” Orb asked.

“Again?”

“Yes, she helped me an hour ago.”

Niobe appeared. “An hour ago? No.”

“What do you mean, no? You showed me how to assume a mature aspect.” Orb shifted into it, then back.

Niobe considered. “You were visiting with Chronos?”

“You know I was, Mother! And what he told me—my daughter, your granddaughter—”

“Let me tell you something about Chronos, dear. His mansion reflects his lifestyle. Anyone who enters it lives backwards. I have experienced the effect many times. A visitor emerges earlier than she enters. On occasion I have even met myself arriving. How long were you there?”

“How long—” Orb repeated, realizing. “You mean—an hour earlier than—?”

“You are now in your own past, as it were, by that amount. Don’t worry, it clears automatically after you catch up. It is like a string that loops back on itself; it may not reach as far, but it’s all there.”

“Jezebel!” Orb exclaimed. “She said I’d talked with Chronos—before I did! Only I was in
my
time, and—oh, it’s all confused!”

“These things happen,” Niobe said. “I suggest you go off by yourself until it clears, then proceed normally. I was about to take a nap; Clotho will alert me when you arrive, in your past. But after this—”

“I’ll be more careful with Chronos!” Orb finished.

“Yes. I’m surprised his staff didn’t warn you.”

“I think they tried to, but I—you know how I am.”

Niobe kissed her. “Of course, dear. I will not speak of this, when you arrive again. You understand.”

“So as not to confuse me further,” Orb said, already confused enough.

“Yes. We all have to make accommodations, when dealing with Chronos.”

Orb turned the page to the isle where she had talked with Natasha. She sat on the sand, trying to make sense of it all. Intellectually, now, she understood, but emotionally she remained confused. She had in effect traveled backwards in time, without realizing it! She could appreciate why Chronos
was uncertain on some details; she had done it only once, and her confusion was great.

What was she to do? She had brought on this disaster, so she was responsible. Chronos said that he could help, but only if she decided what should be done, some time in her future. So perhaps what she needed to do now was to decide her proper course. She did not want to make any more mistakes!

The wind blew past the isle, gouging sand from the beach and hurling it into the ocean. She saw waterspouts all around. If she had not assumed physical immunity from harm with her office, she would be in trouble now! What had happened to the calm brought about by her third singing of the Song of Chaos?

Then she realized that she was still in her own past! She had lost about one hour, going backwards in Chronos’ mansion instead of forward. That meant that her life was two hours behind where it should be—the one she had retreated; and the one she had failed to go forward. She had labored to India to help the mermaid, then returned to Jonah, then gone to see Chronos—and returned to Jonah an hour earlier, for about half an hour of food and talk. Jezebel had remembered that, when Orb seemed to return half an hour later. Now she was here at the isle, and the moment of her singing must be incipient.

She remained on the beach, watching. How fortunate it would be, if the Chaos finally abated!

She considered turning the page to Luna’s mansion. How desperately she needed the company of someone who truly understood! But surely Luna had problems of her own, dealing with the storm; better to leave her alone. “Ah, Moth,” she murmured. “When I really need you, I dare not go to you!”

The time came. The wind died. The waterspouts lost momentum, shriveled, and withdrew into their clouds, which in turn thinned. The sun emerged, and the savage waves sank back into placidity. Her song had really cooled things off!

Cooled? Now she was aware how much it was cooling. Despite the sun, the air was cold.

She watched, hesitant to travel again until she had a clearer notion what was developing. The air chilled until she knew that the normal person would have had to don heavy
clothing. The sky clouded again; ice crystals were forming as the upper reaches chilled and the dew point was reached.

Now she traveled. She turned the page to India.

The mermaid’s pool was cooling, too. Water was slower to yield its heat than the air, but it was obvious that the mermaid would need some protection before the pool froze. Already she was huddled and shivering. What could Orb do?

She considered starting a fire. But that would be of only limited value and dangerous; how could the mermaid properly tend it? What would happen when the fuel gave out?

Yet what else offered? Orb couldn’t carry her magically to a better place, and there was nowhere to go physically.

Luna! Luna could help, by lending one of her many amulets. Just as Orb’s own had protected Lou-Mae, another could protect the mermaid. She turned the page to Luna’s house, glad of the pretext to go there.

And stood in shock. The house was a mass of embers. It had been burned down! In fact, all this section had been razed; smoke was still rising from neighboring blocks. What had happened?

But she knew what had happened. Crazed people had run amok and torched the neighborhood—just part of the savagery unleashed as the natural order broke down.

Where was Luna? She couldn’t have—no, of course not; Thanatos would have protected her. He had probably taken her to his mansion in Purgatory for the duration. Luna was the key to so much of this; she was the one Satan really wanted to eliminate. Thanatos knew that and guarded her constantly; there was no need for Orb to be concerned.

But oh, the sheer waste of this! Any chance for anyone to take shelter from the cold in this neighborhood was gone, carelessly destroyed. Luna’s beautiful house, all her paintings, the two handsome griffins …

Orb knew that if she allowed herself to dwell on this, she would dissolve into useless tears. All of it, ultimately, was her own fault. But now she had to hold her emotion in check and do what she had come to do.

She walked through the ashes, stirring them up with her feet. Where had those amulets been? Unable to locate them, she expanded, orienting on what she wanted, and found it—a warming stone. It was the only one remaining; the others had either been removed or had lost their magic in the fire.
She coalesced and bent to fish it out of the rubble—a red, rubylike gem.

She turned the page back to India. “Take this stone,” she told the mermaid. “It will keep you warm.”

The mermaid reached a hand turning blue to take the amulet. As she touched it, its effect manifested. “Oh, it’s warm!”

“It’s warm. As long as you hold it, you will be warm, too. This is the best I can do for you, until this weather changes.”

“It’s enough,” the mermaid said gratefully. She dived below the surface, expelling the air from her lungs so that she could use her gills. Now she would survive, even if the surface froze over.

Orb turned the page to France. Here on the mountain the cold was worse; snow was falling, and Tinka and her husband and baby had insufficient protection.

What could she do? She had given the only warming charm to the mermaid. Then she knew.

“Tinka,” she said in Calo.

The blanket stirred. Tinka looked out, her breath fogging. “Orb!”

Orb drew off her own cloak. “Take this. It will become whatever you need to wear, even a thick, heavy blanket.”

“I know,” Tinka said. “I saw its magic many times. But you—what will you do without it?”

“I have no further need of it,” Orb said, pushing the cloak forward.

Doubtfully, Tinka took it. Then she stared. “But you have nothing else on!”

Indeed, Orb was now standing naked in the snow. “As I said, I have no need. But you do. Take it, use it, keep it.”

The mound stirred. “What?” the man’s muffled voice came.

Tinka snatched the blanket down over his head. “Nothing out there for you!” Then she focused on the cloak, and it became an enormous furry poncho that settled over the existing blanket. That would keep them all warm, both by its form and its magic!

The mound heaved. Tinka squeaked and disappeared below. Orb, satisfied, turned the page to Ireland.