Hero of Dreams (17 page)

“Remember,” said Hero, “we have to try reasoning with them first. Especially if they’re as many as the Tree says.” He looked up into a vast leafy garden. ‘Tree, where are they?”

“On the other side of my trunk,” the Tree’s fading voice answered as his tendrils withdrew. “I put you down on this side so that you could make your escape unseen.”

The dreamers stared at one another and Hero shrugged. He slipped Thinistor’s wand out from inside his jacket. “She still points to the south,” he grunted.

Eldin the Wanderer nodded. “If we hadn’t met the Tree, we’d be heading for Thalarion anyway. Right, let’s have a look at the eidolon’s Ter-men, shall we?”

They ran swiftly, like large cats, round the bole of the Tree-and pulled up in shock and astonishment on the other side. Whatever else they were, Lathi’s people were not the scurvy-looking bunch of degenerates Hero and Eldin had expected. On the contrary.

“So these are Lathi’s Ter-men, eh?” said Eldin, mouth agape and sword lowered.

“Some of ‘em are, aye,” Hero answered, big-eyed. “As for the others: I’d guess they are her handmaidens. And handy-looking maidens they certainly appear to be!” And he gave a long, low whistle. For Lathi’s Ter-men were tall, handsome and bronzed, with a light yellowish tinge like sick gold. And her handmaidens more than deserved Hero’s whistle.

The Ter-men, clad only in papery loincloths, saw Hero and Eldin where they stood. They saw them-and took no notice whatever! “To hell with that" Eldin snarled through clenched teeth. “I don’t care how many they are, I’ll not be ignored.”

“We’re not being ignored, old lad,” said Hero. “Not at all. Look here, will you?” More than a dozen of the handmaidens were flocking forward, dusky-yellow and lovely, all smiles and big brown eyes and bobbing bosoms. They, too, were clad only in loincloths. Six or seven went straight to Hero and approached him not at all shyly. They took his hands and turned him round, openly admiring him and touching him, and one of them adroitly removed his sword and dropped it to the grass.

“I’m not at all sure what Aminza would say about this,” grunted Eldin as he was given the same treatment.

Now, while the Ter-men stood back, blank-faced and with their arms crossed on their deep chests, the luscious handmaidens laughed and danced and played with the two dreamers, leading them a merry chase round and about and tumbling them in the grass. Soon, when they were well away from the Tree’s great trunk, Eldin made a strange discovery.

“David,” he called to his friend. “I’m beginning to understand what the Tree meant when he said the handmaidens weren’t real girls.”

“Eh?” said Hero, flat on his back where five of the laughing nymphs held him pinned to the ground. “They look real enough to me,” he answered, his delighted eyes not knowing which bobbing breast to inspect first.

“P’raps,” said Eldin, a strange note in his gruff voice, “and right handsome, too-but real breasts have nipples, my lad!”

Hero quit his playful struggling and gazed at the naked bosom of the girl who straddled his chest. A moment longer he stared, then gasped: “Painted on!”

He managed to free an arm and snatched at the girl’s loincloth, which tore like paper in his hand. Now she was completely naked. Hero’s gasp became a hiss of horror as he looked at her, stared at her where she sat his chest. And then he began to buck his body and thrash his limbs, desperately fighting to be free.

“Eldin!” he managed to choke out his friend’s name. “Nipples aren’t all they’re missing.”

“I know it,” the old dreamer groaned, fighting his own furious fight. “The rest of the gear’s absent, too!”

Now the handmaidens, showing their true, not inconsiderable strength, held the dreamers firmly down. Those of them not engaged in this began to loosen and tear their clothes from them. The Ter-men, previously passive, now gathered round in a triple-ranked circle two hundred strong. Those on the inside had produced sharp, curved knives like scythes.

The smiles had disappeared now from the faces of the handmaidens and there was something hellish about their gaze as they stripped the dreamers. The Ter-men came closer, lifting up their scythes-

-And as Hero’s shirt was ripped from him, so Thinistor’s wand fell out upon the grass.

At sight of the wand the half-women sprang up wailing from the dreamers and fled through the ranks of crowding Ter-men. The Ter-men, too, had seen the wand and frowns furrowed their brows as their blank eyes stared. One of them stepped forward, gingerly picked up the wand, retired holding it at arm’s length. He immediately set off southward at a trot.

Now the handmaidens came forward again. Unsmiling and yellow, they were suddenly hideous to the eyes of their victims. They motioned to Hero and Eldin that they should stand. Naked and unarmed, the dreamers obeyed, and under the watchful eyes of the thronging Ter-men the handmaidens began to bind them.

This, too, was a shuddersome thing, for the handmaidens used no ropes but bound the adventurers with threads of sticky, fibrous fluid which they exuded from tiny pulsating orifices in their fingertips! Trembling like trapped flies the captives stood, and in a very short time they were firmly cocooned in shrouding threads as strong and cutting as spun silk.

When their enmeshment was complete, without ceremony the dreamers were bundled over onto their sides and rolled to the outermost area of the Tree’s shade. Left with four Ter-men to guard them, they lay in the grass and glumly watched the monstrous harvesting; and as Lathi’s half-people worked at the cutting and gathering of the Tree’s great leaves, so the two talked: “Of course,” said Eldin, grinding his teeth, his voice choked with fury and frustration, “I might have known it. Have you ever been able to keep your hands off a pretty girl?-or ghoul, as the case may be.”

“Me?” cried Hero in amazed outrage. “Myself? I? And who was it discovered that their breasts were pointless? And how did he make that discovery, I ask myself?”

“Powers of observation,” Eldin answered indignantly. “And if you ever mention that to Aminza, I’ll-“

“Shh!” shushed Hero, and whispered: “Great oaf-they don’t know of Aminza!”

“Ah!” Eldin grunted, lowing his voice. “An error. But look, I don’t think these fellows are greatly interested in anything-certainly not in our conversation. They remind me of something-but I don’t quite know what it is. They’re like machines, or insects, maybe, which have always looked like machines to me.”

“I know what you mean,” Hero answered, “and you’re right. They do seem tike parts of some strange machine, each with his own bit to do, his own function to perform. Or a great carnivorous flower, perhaps. The handmaidens: they’re the bright, inner colors mat attract the insects. The Ter-men: they’re the cruel jaws that snap shut … What do you think?’

“No,” Eldin disagreed, “more like insects, I’d say.” He frowned, strained, and managed to turn his head an inch or two to peer at Hero where he lay. ‘Ter-men!” he snorted. ‘Ter-mites if you ask me!”

‘Termites?” It was Hero’s turn to frown. “Damn me, you could be right! Human-or half-human-termites. And their queen, we’re told, rules a hive of horror! But what of the handmaidens? Undeveloped queens, d’you think?”

“Dunno,” Eldin replied. “I suppose in a real termite’s nest they’d be killed off. But we can’t liken Lathi’s people too much to their insect counterparts. I mean, they’re a totally different race. Also, this is Earth’s dreamland, and you can’t go by natural laws and rules here. Still, I think we’re on pretty much the right track.”

“Yes, I agree,” said the younger dreamer. “I mean, look at the way they’re segregated. There are the gatherers, plucking off the Tree’s leaves where he’s bowed down his branches; and the handmaidens, who do their own damned deceptive thing; and the guards or soldiers, who seem to just stand around with their arms crossed. As for the last: I imagine they’d be a pretty fierce lot if it ever came to a fight.”

“Hmm,” mused Eldin. “Drones, workers, queens and warriors, eh? A damned funny lot whichever way you look at ‘em.”

“Here,” said Hero as a thought struck him. “We know about the so-called handmaidens, but what about their blokes? I wonder what they’ve got up their kilts-if anything?”

Eldin shuddered in his cocoon. “Nothing,” he answered. “I’ve already looked. It’s a nasty sight, old son, I can tell you!”

“But how in hell do they-“

“They don’t. Not these lads, anyway. If I knew more about termites I could probably supply the answers. Presumably Lathi has certain bulls who come equipped, so to speak.”

“With a bit of luck,” said Hero, “we might even live long enough to find out. Actually, we might be better off than we think. I mean, didn’t the Tree tell us that Lathi’s people were vegetarians?”

“I’ve a friend in Ulthar who’s a vegetarian,,” Eldin answered. “He’s also the finest butcher in the city …”

With that the two lapsed into an uneasy silence and watched the Ter-men at their work. While this was going on a pair of tendrils snaked down from the Tree’s outermost branches and reached for the dreamers where they lay. The Ter-men who guarded them saw the tendrils, however, and threatened with meir scythes. Reluctantly, the sensitive green creepers drew back.

The rest of the morning passed quickly and now the sun stood on high. The Ter-men brought up many teams of beasts like tiny Shetland ponies and loaded deep piles of huge leaves onto their travois. Hero and Eldin too were bundled onto one such platform and soon the column of Ter-men, maids and beasts was heading south. In a little less than an hour the Tree was left behind and the column wound through a pass in the last range of low domed hills, emerging on the southern side where the dreamers found themselves within sight and sound of the sea.

There, between hills and shore, where the slope gentled down over earth which was gray, leprous and dead, stood Thalarion. At first, from afar, the few glimpses the dreamers had of the city were blurred and indistinct with the jolting of their travois; but as the column neared the city so its structure began to stand out more clearly. And now they could see how Thalarion’s legend had grown; at least the legends of its architecture and design.

Certainly from afar-from passing ships, perhaps-the shunned city would seem a place of towering spires and awesomely carved turrets; but in fact its spires were thin and unevenly built, and they only seemed of a great height by virtue of their slender construction. Close up they looked pitted and crumbly and not at all safe. The lower areas of the city were gray, sprawling, humped and oddly hybrid; so that the whole gave the impression of having been designed by men but built by-

‘Termites!” said Eldin, and Hero managed to nod his agreement.

“Well,” the older dreamer continued, “that may answer one question, but it most certainly leads to another.”

“Oh’ said Hero.

Eldin nodded in his turn. “What do they want with us?”

Hero fought against his bonds for a moment, uselessly, then did his best to shrug. “We’ll soon find out, old lad,” he said. ‘Too damned soon, I fancy.”

In a little while the column passed under a domed arch into Thalarion’s musty maze of covered streets and passageways. The pony-like beasts with their loads of leaves were led away separately and the handmaidens disappeared along strangely sculpted tunnels toward unknown destinations. As for the dreamers: they were taken into the very heart of the hive, and as they went Hero commented on the city’s inner illumination, a pale blue light which flickered from the domed, papery-looking ceilings.

“See,” he said. “There are no real lights-no burning lights, that is. The place is lit by the luminous glow of fungi. It’s quite obvious that the Lathi’s brood don’t much care for fire.”

“They wouldn’t,” Eldin grunted. “Hell, the place is built of paper! Look mere-“

One of the walls of the tunnel had developed a crack from floor to ceiling. Specialized Ter-men were at work, exuding a paste from hugely enlarged fingertips, filling the crack with stuff which quickly hardened into a sort of papier-mache. “That explains their lack of good old asses,” said Eldin. “No waste in Thalarion.”

“Asses?” Hero looked blank.

“Eh? Didn’t I tell your’ Eldin asked. “They’re not only short on marriage-tackle, they’ve also missed out in waste disposal. As we know it, anyway.”

Hero grimaced. “You mean to tell me this place is built of-“

“Yes, of a sort,” Eldin cut him off. “If you want to put it that way. And because this place is made of-er, paper-they can’t use fire. They know fire, however, and fearing it mightily they use it as a threat against the Tree.”

“We should burn this damned place down to the ground,” Hero snarled, in answer to which Eldin gave a frustrated grunt.

“Oh, yes-and we’ll snap the sparks from our fingers, shall we?”

Before Hero could answer, the older dreamer said: “Ah, now! We appear to have arrived at our destination, wherever that may be.”

They were dragged from the travois and the beasts were led away. Now Ter-men came up and employed their fingertips in melting away the dreamers’ cocoons. They were then given loincloths which they gratefully donned. Four more Ter-men, warriors by their looks, herded them through an archway into a large room which positively glowed with fungous light.

Just inside the archway, the Ter-men paused to hurl Hero and Eldin to the floor. Then they themselves fell to their knees, bowing their heads to the floor in seeming obeisance. From their kneeling positions the dreamers looked about the room, each of them risking a crack on the head from the scythes in the hands of the Ter-men. The place was thronging with handmaidens, and a wide flight of spongy steps led up to a dais against the far wall.

There, atop the dais and flanked by curtained passages, the eidolon Lathi gazed out across her royal chamber. And Lathi was no cold idol. Bathing in a warm glow which had its source at the top of her high throne’s backrest, she looked at the dreamers-particularly at Hero-for long moments, then said: “Welcome, strangers, welcome to Thalarion. Now get up, up-and come to me. We so rarely have visitors …”

Her voice, however alien, was full of strange promise and heavy with dreamland’s accents. But her face, her body-or at least those parts the dreamers could see of it-was young and indescribably beautiful. As they climbed the wide flight of steps Hero was unable to take his eyes off her. At last he was prompted to whisper: “Well, old lad, and what do you make of this? I mean, if those are painted on, why, I’ll stick to twiddling my thumbs in future!”