Being a Green Mother (5 page)

Abruptly the Magician crossed to Orb. “We must have music for the wake,” he said.

Orb quailed. “Oh, I couldn’t—” For though she had never been truly close to Luna’s mother—and Luna herself had not been as close as both of them were to Niobe—the grief of this termination was on her.

“She liked your music,” the Magician said. “She will not hear it hereafter.”

Orb glanced wildly about, seeking some escape from this duty, and caught Niobe’s gaze. Niobe nodded. Orb would have to do it.

She fetched her harp. She had been given this when she was twelve; it was from the Hall of the Mountain King. It was magic, and it amplified her talent enormously. Her father’s music embraced the listener when he touched; hers extended beyond touch. She had not realized that Blenda was even aware of it.

She played on the instrument, then sang. She had intended a sad song, but it came out happy, to her dismay; it seemed that something other than her own will was guiding her. In the old days, she understood, wakes had been happy affairs, all-night parties, but now they were more somber, and certainly she did not feel festive. But she found herself singing a song of light and joy, and the Magician was smiling, and somehow, amazingly, it seemed right.

Then Luna painted a picture of her mother, in her youthful beauty, and it was the loveliest of portraits. This would go with Blenda, in such manner as it could. She would travel to Heaven with treasured things.

After the wake and burial were done, things did not return to normal. The Magician decided to move to America, and of course Luna would go with him. This hardly cheered Orb; Luna had been her closest companion all her life. But what was to be, was to be. The two girls had a tearful parting, and then Luna and her father were gone. Oh, they had promised to keep in touch, and to visit back and forth, but Orb still felt bereft.

There did not seem to be much point in staying home, now. Orb’s father Pacian was over seventy and was slowing down; she rather feared that he would be next and she hardly cared to witness that. So she approached Niobe about the possibility of traveling, apprehensive about her mother’s response, but to her surprise it was positive. “By all means, dear,” Niobe said. “It is important for a girl to get some experience of the world, before she has to settle down. Just be careful.”

Now perversely, Orb had a second thought. “But you, Mother—can you manage without me? I mean—”

Niobe hugged her. “I love you Orb, but I can manage. Here, the Magician left something for you.”

It turned out to be a carpet: a beautiful small silken one that nevertheless supported her weight lightly enough. “Oh, it’s absolutely lovely!” Orb breathed ecstatically. “But that means—”

“That he knew you would be going,” Niobe finished. “He cares for you, Orb, as he does for Luna; he just doesn’t show it often. He told me where to take the two of you to obtain your instruments. I think his neglect as a baby caused him to lose facility for the expression of love, but he feels it.”

Orb did not comment. Niobe was the Magician’s mother; if she had neglected him, she must have had good reason. “I will use it to visit him and Luna!” she exclaimed.

“You will not!” Niobe snapped. “This is not intercontinental tapestry! You would perish in some storm far from land. No, this is strictly a local transport, close to ground. You’ll have to take a scientific airplane to cross the ocean. But you don’t need to visit them so soon anyway; go about your business and see what you can find.”

Orb nodded. She had never spoken to her mother of her longing for the Llano, but evidently Niobe knew. So she flung her arms about the older woman and just hugged her, and that was enough.

But Niobe was not done. She had a gift of her own: a cloak that would garb Orb in whatever manner she required, so that she would not need to tote a suitcase of clothing. “Return when you are ready, dear, and I will be here.” Perhaps significantly, she did not mention Pacian.

Orb hugged her again and shed another tear. Then she packed some food and her little harp, took a good map of Eire, and settled herself on the carpet. It lifted with her thought, being one of the refined modern ones that responded only to the owner and needed no spoken commands.

She hovered for a moment, blowing a kiss to her mother. Then she was off, sailing up to treetop level, the wind taking her cloak but not threatening her. She was on her way.

She was looking for the Raggle-Taggle Gypsies that she had met as a child. They had told her what they knew of her real objective, the Llano, but perhaps they could now tell her where to look for it.

First she went to the swamp where the old water-oak stood, to consult with the hamadryad. She and Luna had visited often in the summers when they were young, but seldom in the later years. Nevertheless the dryad welcomed her immediately, even coming down from the tree to hug her as she got off the carpet.

“But I’m adult now,” Orb protested, pleased. “How can you approach me?”

“You are still an innocent,” the dryad said. “Besides, I know you. There is no music like yours.”

Orb elected to ignore the slight about her experience, for the dryad had been a precious friend. “What I really want is to find that song, the Llano,” she confessed. “So I’m looking for those Gypsies, because perhaps they can tell me where to look.”

The hamadryad frowned, not liking the Gypsies who had threatened to chop down her tree. A threat of that nature was never forgiven by her kind. But she recognized Orb’s need, so she helped. “We have watched that tribe, my sisters and I. It is now south, in Cork.”

Orb thanked her and resumed her journey, after a parting almost as poignant as the one with Niobe. The flight was long, and night was coming, so she ate sparingly from her stores, then lay down on the carpet and slept while it continued its travel. Her cloak kept her warm, and she knew no one would bother a solitary flying carpet; they were, after all, common enough. This really solved the problem of nights, for she was as safe here as she could be anywhere—at least when there was no storm.

In the morning she found herself hovering over one of the enchanted forests of Cork: the trees that magic enabled this county to grow for their marvelous bark, providing employment and income for many residents. She circled until she spied a park that had good water and facilities; then she landed and refreshed herself. Her food was running low; she had money and would have to buy more soon, but right now she was too eager to locate the Gypsies.

Back aloft, she searched for signs of their presence and soon spied a motley collection of tents. As she approached she saw the women with their pots, and the men with their horses and cattle, and the children playing, all of them wearing bright bits of color. These were they!

She landed, rolled up her rug, and fitted it into her knapsack along with her harp. The combined load was fairly heavy, but she didn’t want to leave anything of value untended in this vicinity. Her prior experience with the Gypsies had taught her this caution.

As she walked up, the Gypsy children flocked to her. “You want nice cloth?” one cried. “My mother has the best!”

“You want fortune told?” another inquired. “My big sister knows all!”

Then a Gypsy man strode toward her. His hair was midnight black and his eyes the same, making his dark skin seem light in comparison. With a wave of his arm he scattered the children. “Welcome, beautiful woman!” he exclaimed. “Come let me show you the wonders of perfect love!”

“Just take me to your leader,” Orb said, somewhat daunted by this approach.

“I am the leader,” he proclaimed, putting his arm around her. Because the knapsack was high on her back, his hand fell low. He squeezed.

Orb leaped and whirled on him, her face flaming, and perhaps her bottom, too. “How dare you?” she demanded.

The man laughed. “A woman of spirit!” he said. “What a joy to bed you!” His dark gaze seemed to transfix her, and somehow it seemed that the decision about her action had already been made.

Orb put her left hand on the amulet hanging at her neck, drawing power from it. She knew the Gypsy couldn’t hurt her. Not physically. But his lewd words and behavior appalled her. She just wanted to get away from him and get about her business.

The man, pressing what he perceived to be his advantage, reached for her again. But this time the power of the amulet manifested, and as his hand touched her, his volition drained away. These amulets had protected Luna and Orb throughout, the only exception being when they had invaded the Hall of the Mountain King, whose power was supreme within his own demesnes. But she had no onus against the Mountain King; he was a good man, if man he was, and his magic harp had vastly enhanced her life.

Why hadn’t the amulet protected her from the man’s familiarity before? Because she hadn’t known it was coming,
and he hadn’t known it would offend her. Now she did know, and so did he, and the protective magic was operating. A matter of interpretation, perhaps, but it made all the difference.

Now that she had him helpless, she had a better idea. “You’re not the leader, are you?” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “I just told you that so you would like me.”

“Perhaps you can help me anyway,” she continued. “I am looking for the Llano. What can you tell me?”

“The Llano!” he exclaimed, and his hand fell away from her. At that point he recovered his volition. “What did you do to me, woman?”

“I overwhelmed you with my personality,” she said sweetly. “Are you going to answer my question?”

He whistled. “Lady, I think I had better! But all I can tell you is that we don’t know where to find the Llano. I don’t think any of us can, here. I think you would have to ask at the source of the Gypsies.”

“And where is that?”

He looked embarrassed. “We don’t know that either. We think we came up out of Egypt, through Spain; that is how we derive our name, E-Gypt-sy. But that may be just a story.”

Orb considered. It struck her as an excellent story. “Why then I suppose I’ll just have to go to Spain and inquire there,” she said.

The Gypsy fidgeted. “That may not be wise.”

“Why not?”

“Look, lady—you can’t just walk into a Gypsy camp and start asking questions. You’ll wind up in somebody’s tent, and—” He paused, evidently remembering her power of resistance. “Well, maybe not. But the Gypsies of Spain are more—well, they wouldn’t let you get off as easily as I am, and your magic may not protect you there. We’re just a primitive band, but there they know more of the old lore. You would run a risk.”

His words had the ring of sincerity. Orb leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “I thank you. I shall take care.” She turned away.

“Wait, lady!” he protested.

She turned back. “Haven’t you had enough of me?”

“I think I will never have enough of you, lady! But I recognize your power. Please, a boon—the others have seen me talking to you, and if you just go away they will know I failed with you. If you would stay a little longer, let me show you around, be your guide, they would think—”

“Why should I care what they think?” she snapped. “You tried to—to handle me!”

“I know, and I apologize. But this is the way of a man with a beautiful woman—the Gypsy way. I would have been the shame of my tribe if I didn’t try! And now—my reputation—”

Orb tried to remain objective, but the repeated compliments about her appearance were getting to her. Perhaps the Gypsy had a case. Her temper, quick to fray, was also quick to mend. “I have no intention of—”

“I understand!” he said quickly. “Obviously a woman of your quality has no interest in riffraff like me! But if you could just appear to be—I would be so grateful, and if there is any favor I could do in return—”

He wanted to avoid being shamed before his folk. She could appreciate that. She melted, some. “Well, I do need to obtain some food, to travel with—”

“Yes, yes!” he agreed avidly. “I will guide you to the best we have! The best prices, no cheating! If only—” he made a partial gesture with his arm.

Orb decided that she was in command of the situation, and the man might indeed be useful. “Yes, you may touch me—but no squeezing. And nothing more—there is nothing beyond this.”

“Yes! But there will
seem
to be more.”

She nodded. The Gypsy put his arm about her waist, below the knapsack, and he did not even touch her rear, let alone squeeze. The other Gypsies glanced and nodded appreciatively; the man was scoring again.

In due course Orb resumed her journey, stocked with excellent food. The man had been as good as his word and had indeed been useful. He had asked only that he be allowed to walk her through the forest, out of sight of the others, so that they would draw their conclusions. She did, and the Gypsies surely did, and that was all. “But if you ever
do
want a man for other purposes—” he said at the end.

“I will know where to find you,” she agreed. Indeed, he
seemed not a bad sort, once reined, and she had learned—or relearned—that the word of a Gypsy, once honestly given, was good.

Still, as she left him, Orb suffered a tinge of regret, not for anything that might have passed between them, but because she felt she had lost a portion of her innocence.

Orb took an airplane to Spain, heeding her mother’s advice. Indeed, as she looked out the window and saw the mass of clouds below, she realized that it would have been foolish for her to attempt this trip on her carpet. Any trifling storm could have dumped her, and even the fog of harmless clouds could have caused her to get lost. Magic was grand, but science had its place, too; they were complementary mechanisms of accomplishment.

The plane landed at Granada. Orb made discreet inquiries and learned that the Gypsy quarter was the Albaicin, on the hill facing the Alhambra. This was in the larger region of Andalusia, familiar to her by reputation because Luna’s father had imported special stones from here for his enchantments, called anadalusite. They changed color with the light, being green at times and orange at other times—and more than that, after enchantment. Thus she was glad to make the acquaintance of this country, on whatever pretext.