Higher Mythology (11 page)

“Hey, that won’t help. When you let go it’ll just bounce back to its normal shape.”

“No, it won’t,” Dola said. She opened her hand, and the altered nipple lay there, elongated to the shape of a stubby pencil.

“You must be strong,” the man said, impressed.

“A trick my father taught me,” Dola said, offhand. Let the Big Person think it was strength. He already suspected something of the truth about her. The less he knew for certain the better. The other man didn’t believe what he saw, and that was all to the good. She did not want them thinking there was something uncanny about Hollow Tree Farm that bore closer investigation.

A dab of formula on the wrist, and she knew that it was drinking temperature. Fishing the bottle out of the coffeepot, she assembled the bottle and offered it to the weeping child. Asrai refused it. She looked at the men and at Dola and sobbed weakly. Dola was furious.

“Well, you’re scaring her!” she said fiercely. “Go off, then. I’m not going anywhere. Do you think we can sneak through keyholes?”

They went. Dola had figured out what was wrong, and wanted privacy in which to resolve the problem. This was the first meal of her life Asrai was not to receive from her mother.

Glancing over her shoulder at the door to make certain the men weren’t peeking in, Dola took the old gauze square out of her pocket and put it over her head. Willing it with her strongest thoughts, she caused Maura’s face to superimpose over hers. Illusions were easy. The next part was hard. She used the enhancement to make her voice like Maura’s as well.

“Hush, now, little love,” she whispered. The baby stopped crying, alert, and looked up at Dola’s face in surprise. “Well, are you hungry?” She put her arm behind Asrai’s back and helped her reach for the artificial nipple. She held the bottle close to her chest to simulate the placement of Maura’s breast. Asrai latched onto it eagerly and began to suck. She made a little face and put out her tongue, rejecting it.

“Oh, come,” Dola/Maura forced a chuckle, though she was worried that the unnatural mock-milk might do the child harm. “That’s no way to act. Feed, little one, then you shall sleep.”

Mollified, the baby began to suckle, desperately at first, then slowing down. She drank half the bottle of formula, an incredible amount. Dola was relieved to watch the heavy-lidded eyes droop halfway, then close entirely.

“Oh, a blessing, a blessing,” Dola whispered, wiping the milky lips and kissing the child on the head through her veil.

The door opened behind her. Dola had just enough time to snatch the translucent cloth from her face before her captors could see.

“You’re good with her,” Skinny said in a very quiet, respectful tone.

Dola straightened her shoulders with some pride. “And so I should be, having helped with her care since her birth.”

“I’ve got two kids of my own,” Skinny offered.

“And what would you think, if someone carried one of them off as you have done,” Dola said, her eyes filling with tears. She was too proud to let them hear her voice quaver, but she was a child too.

“I brung you something else,” Skinny said. The boxes he set down on the desk next to her were decorated with pictures of a plump, golden haired baby, and were marked “disposable diapers.”

“If she’s had a bottle, you’ll want this next.”

“Well! Logic!” Dola exclaimed gratefully. She raised an eyebrow at the man. “Thank you,” she said, bobbing her head. Skinny seemed embarrassed but pleased.

He pulled a wadded pad out of the first box. They both saw immediately it was too big; it would have fit Dola herself. Skinny took a pad from the second box. It was about twice too big, but Dola could cut it in half lengthwise with the scissors from her chatelaine.

There was another box, made of thick blue plastic. “Cleaning cloths.” Skinny pried open the half-lid and showed her one. It stank of some Big Person chemical antiseptic that made Dola cough.

“It’s not a cloth, it’s some kind of paper,” she said, after a close look. “What a dreadful wasteful people you are, first diapers meant to be thrown away, then cloths that aren’t really cloth.”

The man shook his head, crouching beside her. “I suppose you’re one of those green people,” he said, amused.

“No, we’re not,” Dola said with spirit. “That’s a myth.”

Skinny paused, as if about to deliver himself of a difficult query. “Do you grant wishes or something?”

“And what if I did?” Dola asked. “Would I do anything for those who’ve imprisoned me against my will, and endangered my charge?”

“I’ll make things nice for you,” the skinny man said. He rose and left the room.

Mona sat at her desk with her head in her hands, going over alternate wording for the apology she was going to have to make to those children’s parents.

“I’m so sorry we accidentally kidnapped your daughter,” she recited bitterly, practicing the sound of it. She shook her head. It wasn’t going to be easy no matter how she phrased it. She was embarrassed. When every single instance of public exposure counted, this was going to be a huge demerit. Except for their problems with waste disposal, she had done all the right things to keep the public on her side. She had been responsible for beginning a town-wide recycling program for plastics. All the Gilbreth office stationery was made of recycled paper. Even the wooden desk in her office was made of wood from a replanted forest. That girl and baby were innocent bystanders, snatched up by her employees in the midst of an illegal act. Could she apologize to the parents and ask them not to inquire into what her men were doing there on their property?

Mona felt her ire rousing. Yes, that was right. This girl came from Hollow Tree Farm. They were already trying to ruin her reputation in the community. Instead of ashamed, she was getting angry.

“Miz Gilbreth,” Pilton inquired, tapping on the door. “Are we gonna take the kids back?”

Mona looked up at him sharply. “Grant, go back and ask that girl if she’s any relation to H. Doyle.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, backing out of the office obediently.

Pilton was back in a moment, looking more bemused than usual. “Miz Gilbreth, she says he’s her uncle.”

“My God!” she cried, throwing her head back. “I can’t eat crow to him! It’s the end of my career!”

Headlines danced before her eyes, worse than the ones she’d imagined before. She had to think. The party national committee must never, never get to hear of this incident. Maybe she could negotiate with the man. If the Doyles agreed it was all a mistake, and would promise not to press charges, she could still get out of this with a whole skin and an intact political career.

“Well, we can’t have her going back to him and saying we maltreated her,” Mona said, half to herself. “We just can’t let her go yet.”

Pilton looked pleased. “I was just gonna ask you, ma’am, it’s kind of cold in that office. If she’s going to stay a while I thought I’d go home and bring her my daughter’s sleeping bag. Would that be okay with you?”

“Give them anything they want,” Mona snapped.

Pilton grunted under the weight of the cardboard carton he was carrying. He shifted it to rest between his hip and the wall as he reached into his pocket for the key to the office, kicked open the door, and backed into the room.

The little girl was just where she’d been sitting when he’d left.

“I got some nice things for you,” he said. She looked up at him with dull eyes. The baby was sleeping on her lap. It was a cute little thing; had the same kind of ears the girl did. He wondered if Jake was right, and the shape was just a mutation like her size. Maybe their folks had been drinking the water that was tainted with the runoff from the factory. Pilton himself had seen what too much of that nitrogen feed could do to plants: just think what effect it might have on animals and people. And maybe he was right, and they’d captured a real live fairy girl.

“Here’s a sleeping bag for you. It’s my daughter’s, but she won’t need it back right away. It’s just been washed, so it smells really good.” He held up the quilted bag. Dola glanced at it, put her nose in the air, and turned away again.

“Got a few toys for you and the baby. Couple of books and magazines.” He showed her colorful digest-sized periodicals. Dola tried not to look interested even though she’d never seen those titles before. “I brought you a portable TV, too. The reception’s okay. Here’s a TV guide. You want to try it out?”

Dola was very interested in trying the television, and in wrapping herself up in the warm-looking coverlet, but she didn’t want to seem too eager to accept his offerings. She hadn’t missed the query about her relation to Holl. It couldn’t be mere accident that the very people who were ruining their water supply were the same ones who had kidnapped her in their haste. They must be very uneasy. Skinny wanted so badly to make friends, but did she dare to appear vulnerable? He and the other man were responsible for bringing her here against her will. She had the sudden urge to make him pay dearly for her incarceration.

“All right,” she said, hopping down from the chair. The seat was warm where her bottom had rested, so she set Asrai down there. Skinny plugged the set in and unrolled a long wire from the top to the metal window frame, where he hooked it in place.

“Got no antenna,” he said. Dola watched carefully as he switched it on. A small dot appeared in the center of the screen, unfolding outward toward the boundaries until the picture could be distinguished. The sound warmed up just as slowly. She disliked the electronic hum behind the music and voices. Dola clapped her hands over her ears as the squeal grew louder and began to eat into her consciousness. On the chair, Asrai began to mutter and squirm in her sleep.

“For the love of nature, turn it off!” Dola exclaimed. Skinny jumped for the controls and switched the set off. “Take it away. It’s so noisy I’d never enjoy a minute of it with all the terrible squeals and hums it makes.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, hurt. “Look, here’s a program guide and everything.” He put the magazine down on the desk and pushed it toward her. “My kids like the cartoons in the morning.”

“I don’t watch cartoons,” Dola said haughtily.

Skinny nodded knowingly, evidently remembering that she was something special. “I guess you don’t,” he said. He unplugged the set. “I’ll take it home.”

“No, leave it,” Dola said, suddenly curious what Big children’s entertainment was like. Hollow Tree had no television, and the sets at the library were not attached to antenna. All she had ever seen on them were educational tapes.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Skinny asked.

Dola assessed the empty feeling in her stomach and judged that her pride wouldn’t hold out against a night of abstinence. “Yes,” she said. She thought longingly of a treat that was forbidden at home by her Conservative relatives, and impetuously burst out, “Pizza!”

“Sure,” Skinny said, and started out the door.

“And it can’t be just any pizza,” she said, imperiously leveling a finger at him. “It must be in a proper box!”

“Gotcha,” he said, shrugging into his coat.

Dola sat by herself watching the television when she heard the man coming back. Hastily, she switched it off, but was privately glad to do so. The evening news was scary. She was glad to be rid of it. No wonder the elders didn’t let Keith Doyle bring them a television to keep! It was almost enough to make one fear living in the world.

Skinny’s footsteps came all the way to the door, and stopped while keys jingled and entered the lock.

“Here you go!” he said, putting a large, flat box down on the table. “I brought you some soda, too.”

Dola approached the box and gazed at it avidly. She only got pizza if Keith Doyle or one of their other Big friends was visiting. Great-gran Keva disliked it because the toppings hid the beauties of her prized bread, and most of the other elders hated it because it was so messy. Dola, like her friends Borget and Moira, loved it, and not just because Keith Doyle did, although that added to its attraction. The label attached to the box gave her pause at first. She sniffed carefully at the huge pizza, and tasted a bite with even greater care. She tried a larger bite of pizza, taking in a small, round slice of a green vegetable. It was very hot, but there was no doubt that it was fresh.

“Why is it called garbage pizza when all the ingredients are unspoiled?” she asked.

Skinny grinned, still watching her with open curiosity. “That’s because they just dump tons of stuff on top of it. It’s good. You like cola or lemon-lime?” He proffered two bottles with the tops twisted off.

Dola sampled from one, then the other. Both contained fizzy drinks, the kind the Big Folk liked. She made a face. If this was the ale that custom demanded be served alongside pizza, she’d drink it, but it was a punishment in itself—gassy and without substance.

“I’d rather have juice,” she said, and eyed Skinny to see if he’d obey her.

He did. He went away and came back with orange juice, then went away again for freshly squeezed juice when Dola complained about the canned variety. She accorded him imperial nods instead of voicing her thanks, but he didn’t seem to find her behavior out of the ordinary, since he thought she was some kind of supernatural being.

The pizza was very good, but Dola felt a little guilty enjoying it so much. She was being indulged more thoroughly because she was kidnapped than on the most sumptuous birthday she had ever had. It was turning out to be one of the best things that could have happened to her. She refused to think of what might happen to her hereafter, but her mother would be so glad to see her come home she’d surely forgive.

By now there were few other noises in the great buildings around them. Occasionally she heard the slow footsteps of a heavy man passing by under the window. It was beginning to impinge upon Dola that unless she could cudgel her wits into coming up with a plan she was going to have to sleep in this room, that she couldn’t leave. One of her cousins was wise about locks, and could undo anything Big Folk could do up, but Dola’s particular talent was for illusion. She could make the door seem to vanish, but such a vision wasn’t good enough to allow her to pass into the hallway beyond.