Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl (55 page)

“A good idea,” said Zuck. “Take the pony cart, so that you may make haste. Ride out Giliom’s Lane this very moment; cut neither buds nor seed-pods, only those flowers which have come into full bloom. In this manner we will not injure the growth.”

“Just so,” said Yossip. “I will need a sharp knife to cut the stems and a bite of bread and cheese to stay me along the way, which, as I recall, is two or three or even four miles down the lane.”

“Go then, and do not loiter!”

As soon as Yossip had departed, Zuck closed the booth. He borrowed a mount from an acquaintance at a nearby booth and set off after Yossip. He rode with stealth and caution, pacing himself by the squeak and clatter of the pony cart. When the lane turned, Zuck hastened forward, to peer along its way ahead, and then ride swiftly to the next turning, so remaining close behind Yossip but always out of sight.

The sound of the cart suddenly ceased. Zuck dismounted, tied the horse and advanced on foot. The cart had halted in the middle of the lane and Yossip was nowhere to be seen.

“Well done!” said Zuck to himself. “Here is the site of the mysterious garden! It is all I need to know!” Now… to return to the booth in haste, and Yossip would never know that his secret had been broached.

Zuck’s curiosity prompted him to steal forward, for a better indication as to the location and size of the flower bed. Step by wary step he came down the road, running at last on tip-toe, darting glances to right and left.

Yossip stepped from the shadows carrying a small bouquet of four flowers. He seemed not at all surprised to find Zuck on hand.

“I came in haste,” said Zuck. “I decided to use bunting and multicolored streamers for my decoration, rather than despoil the flower bed; therefore I thought to inform you at once of my new plans.”

“That was kind of you,” said Yossip. He seemed to have difficulty speaking; he warbled and lisped. “But what of these flowers I have already cut?”

“Bring them along; better yet, give them into my care. Are there others in bud?” “Very few.”

Zuck looked frowningly slantwise at Yossip. “Why are you speaking with so odd a voice?”

Yossip grinned, showing silver teeth. “As I worked, I disturbed the soil and discovered this wonderful gem.” He took a lambent green sphere from his mouth. “For convenience I carry it thus.”

“Amazing!” said Zuck. “Allow me to examine it.”

“No, Zuck! By stealth you learned the secret of my garden. By nature, I am easy, even ingenuous; but on this occasion I must pass a judgment, and your deceit must be punished by death.” So saying, Yossip stabbed Zuck first in the neck with the knife he had used to cut flowers, then in the heart. Then, to halt Zuck’s twitching, he thrust the knife hard into Zuck’s right ear, all the way to the hilt. “Now then, Zuck! We have properly put an end to your skulkishness. I will say no more of the matter.”

Yossip rolled the corpse into the ditch, and returned to the meadow, leading the horse Zuck had ridden behind the can. Yossip returned the horse to its owner, who asked in wonder: “And where is good Zuck, who rode off so briskly?”

“He has gone to examine a new line of merchandise,” said Yossip. “I must meanwhile take care of the booth.”

“That is a great responsibility for an inexperienced stripling like yourself! If you find any difficulties, or if you suspect that you are being cheated, call me and I will set matters right!”

“Thank you, sir! I am much relieved.” The time was still two hours short of sundown. Yossip opened the booth, arranged the flowers in vases and, after some hesitation, placed the green pearl on display, in a dish on one of the back shelves. “It is a wondrous gem,” he told himself. “Still, what use is it to me? I am not one for earrings nor other adornments. Well, we shall see. The gem must bring a good price or I will not sell.”

In the morning Melancthe appeared early and looked here and there. She noticed the flowers and gave a glad cry. “Where is the good Zuck?”

“He is searching out new merchandise,” said Yossip. “The booth is in my care.”

“At least he has found flowers for me! Bring them forward; they are mine alone and must never be sold elsewhere!”

“As you wish, lady.”

Melancthe took possession of the flowers. They were indeed of startling distinction, with colours that seemed to shudder with the force of their nature. Each was different; each projected a unique personality. The first: pungent orange, mingled with vermilion, plum-red and black. The second: sea-green with purple glowing under a luster of beetle-back blue. The third: black glossy-harsh with spikes of strident ocher-yellow, and a scarlet tuft at the center. The fourth: a dozen concentric rings of small petals, in turn white, red and blue.

Melancthe asked no price. She tossed down four golden crowns. “When will you have more of these blooms?”

Yossip at once saw how the wind blew. Zuck had been deceitful by an order of magnitude larger than Yossip had imagined. Still, whether for good or for bad, he could not be punished a second time. Yossip reflected. “Tomorrow, lady, I may have more flowers.”

“Remember, they must be reserved for me alone! I am fascinated by their bizarre complication!”

Yossip said smoothly: “To ensure yourself full ownership, I advise that you pay over at this moment a sufficiency of gold coins; otherwise someone may be quicker than you tomorrow morning.”

Melancthe contemptuously flung down five more crowns of yellow gold, and the transaction was thereby validated.

Dusk fell over the meadow. Lamps hung in the trees and a variety of folk who preferred night to day came to stroll among the booths and to chaffer for articles which aroused their interest.

At the inn Melancthe dined modestly upon a chicken wing and a turnip cooked with honey and butter. She sat with her flowers set out in four vases, that she might admire each in turn, or all together, as she chose.

A saturnine dark-haired gentleman in splendid garments, distinguished by a neat mustache, a small beard, and keen features, approached her table. He bowed, doffed his hat, and without further ceremony seated himself.

Melancthe, recognizing Tamurello, made no comment. He inspected the flowers with curiosity. “Most fascinating, and, I would think, unique! Where do such extraordinary blossoms grow?”

“As to that, I cannot be sure,” said Melancthe. “I buy them from a booth at the fair. Smell, them, one after the other. Each is different; each purports with its odor an entire cascade of meaning, and meanings of meanings; each is a whole pageant of subtle and nameless aromas.”

Tamurello smelled each bloom in turn, and then each once again. He looked at them with lips pursed. “The odors are exquisite. I am reminded of something to which I cannot now put a name… . The thought hangs in a far comer of my mind and refuses to stir. A maddening sensation!”

“You will recognize it presently,” said Melancthe. “Why are you here, where you come so rarely?”

“I am here by curiosity,” said Tamurello. “Only a few moments ago there was a tremble at Twitten’s Post. It might mean much, or it might mean little, but such a tremble is always worth the investigation… . Aha! Look then, who has just entered the inn! It is Visbhume, and I must confer with him at once.”

Visbhume stood by the counter, looking this way and that for Hockshank, who at this moment was busy elsewhere.

Tamurello went to stand beside him. “Visbhume, what do you do here?”

Visbhume peered at the black-bearded grandee who addressed him so familiarly. “Sir, you have the advantage of me.”

“I am Tamurello, in a guise I often use while going abroad.”

“Of course! Now I recognize you, by the clarity of your gaze! Tamurello, it is a pleasure to see you!”

“Thank you. What brings you here at this season?”

Visbhume puffed out his cheeks and gave his forefinger a wag. “Now then, who can explain the foibles of a vagabond? One day here, the next day there! Sometimes the way is rude, sometimes it is rough, and sometimes one must tramp onward through the rain and the dark compelled only by the gleam of one’s own far star! But for now, I wish only for Hockshank, that he may find me a comfortable chamber for the night.”

“Your wants will not be satisfied, or so I fear. The inn is full.”

Visbhume’s face fell. “In that case I must find a tuft of hay in the barn.”

“Unnecessary! Step outside a moment.”

Somewhat reluctantly Visbhume followed Tamurello out the door and into the road. Tamurello looked up into the sky. He pointed aloft to where the moonlight shone on a floating manse of three towers, a terrace and a surrounding balustrade.

“That is where I shall take my rest this night,” said Tamurello. “But before I say more, I am curious as to why you are here when you were on last accounts hard at work in the service of King Casmir, upon my recommendation.”

“True, true! With your usual acuity you understand the exact state of affairs! I believe that I will now take a bite of supper. If you will excuse me… ”

“In a moment,” said Tamurello. “Tell me, how went your business with Casmir?”

“Tolerably well.”

“He is pleased with your information?”

“In truth, I have not yet reported to him. The knowledge I have gained is so footling that I may not even trouble to do so.”

“What, in fact, did you learn?”

“Sir, I feel that I should best retain these few trivialities for Casmir’s ears.”

“Forsooth, Visbhume! Surely you have no secrets from me?”

“All of us have our little areas of privacy,” said Visbhume primly.

“In some areas and at some times and with certain persons,” stated Tamurello. “Not at Twitten’s Corners by moonlight, in converse with Tamurello.”

Visbhume made nervous flourishes of the hand. “Well then, if you insist, you shall know.” And Visbhume added heartily: “After all, who referred me to Casmir but my good friend Tamurello?”

“Exactly so.”

“I learned this much. Casmir is troubled by a prediction in regard to Suldrun’s first-born son.”

“I know of this prediction, by Persilian the Mirror. I know of Casmir’s concern.”

“The fact is simple yet most poignant! Suldrun’s first-born son was sired by Aillas, King of Troicinet. The son’s name is Dhrun, and in one year at the fairy shee he attained the age of nine Earthly years.”

“Interesting!” said Tamurello. “And how did you come by this information?”

“I worked with vast toil and cunning. I took Glyneth to the world Tanjecterly, and there I would easily have had the knowledge had not Shimrod sent down a great monster to harass me. But I am nothing if not indomitable; I gained my information, I killed the beast, and I came up from Tanjecterly with my information.”

“And the Princess Glyneth?”

“She remains in Tanjecterly, where she cannot tell tales.”

“A wise precaution there! You are right! Knowledge of this sort is best kept secret, and reserved to the fewest possible number of minds. Indeed, Visbhume, one mind is enough, for knowledge of this sort.”

Visbhume drew back a step. “Two minds are quite as secure.”

“I fear not. Visbhume… ”

“Hold!” cried Visbhume. “Have you forgotten my loyalty? My relentless efficiency? My aptitude for performing impossible services?”

Tamurello considered. “These arguments carry genuine weight! You are both loquacious and cogent, and so you have earned your life. Henceforth, however …” Tamurello made a gesture and uttered a phrase. Visbhume’s garments slumped to the ground. From the dark tumble crawled a black and green snake. It hissed once at Tamurello and darted away into the forest.

Tamurello stood quiet in the road, listening to the sounds from within the inn: the mutter of voices, the clink of glass and earthenware, Hockshank’s occasional call to his serving boy.

Tamurello’s thoughts went for a moment to Melancthe. Her flowers, for a fact, were intriguing; he would explore them further in the morning. As for the attractions of Melancthe’s person, his moods were ambiguous and to a certain degree defensive. He had been the lover of her brother; now she showed him a cool half-smiling detachment, in which Tamurello often thought to sense the flavor of contempt.

Tamurello listened a final moment to the sounds from the inn, glanced toward the forest, where he knew a black and green snake watched him with passionate eyes. Tamurello chuckled for the sheer logic of the situation, then held his arms wide, fluttered his fingers and was wafted high through the moonlight to his floating manse.

Five minutes later Shimrod appeared in the road. Like Tamurello he paused a moment to listen, then, hearing nothing but sounds from within, he entered the inn.

SHIMROD WENT TO THE COUNTER, and Hockshank leaned forward to attend his wants. “Again, Sir Shimrod, I am filled to capacity; still I notice that the beautiful Dame Melancthe again visits the fair and already has bought a fine bouquet which is the envy of everyone. Perhaps she might again share her accommodations with a dear and trusted friend.”

“Or even with a total stranger, should the mood be on her. Well, we shall see. Tonight I came prepared and in fact I have no need for her hospitality. Still, who knows how the evening will go? In the name of gallantry, I will at least pay my respects and possibly take a cup of wine with her.”

“Have you dined?” asked Hockshank. “Tonight the civet of hare is tasty, and my woodcocks are beyond reproach. Hear how they sizzle on the spit!”

“You have tempted me,” said Shimrod. “I will test one of the woodcocks, along with half a crusty loaf.”

Shimrod joined Melancthe at her table. She said: “Only minutes ago Tamurello sat in that very chair and admired these same flowers. Is this the reason for your presence?”

“The flowers, no. Tamurello, perhaps. Murgen sent me to investigate a tremble of Twitten’s Post.”

“Twitten’s Post is all the rage,” said Melancthe. “Tamurello came at the same tremble.”

Shimrod looked around the room. “His guise must be unusual; I see no one here who might be Tamurello, unless it is yonder youth with the copper ringlets and the green jade eardrops.”

“Tonight Tamurello is an austere grandee, but he is not here. He noticed his crony, Visbhume, and took him outside, and neither has returned.”