The Ancient One (19 page)

To the Tinnani Chieftain’s left, another owl-like person solidified in the crystalline throne. Equally tall but less rotund, this Tinnani had softer facial features, a shorter nose, and even larger yellow eyes, which radiated both wisdom and suffering. In the talons of one hand, she held a long staff like a scepter, dotted with red rubies. Around her neck was draped a string of glistening pearls, no less white than her feathers. Studying the visitors with care, she snapped her jaws together sharply, making a sharp clicking sound.

The Chieftain stirred impatiently, then called to one of his aides in a hooting voice much like that of the owl Kate had heard in the forest. “Oysters!” he commanded. “Bring me some oysters.” Then he added irritably to his wife, “Will they ever learn to have them ready as soon as I materialize?”

Her yellow eyes blinked. She hooted softly, “Nobody knows when you’re going to materialize, dear, so it takes them a moment.”

“Well,
I
know when,” grumbled the plump Chieftain. “That ought to be enough.” His head turned on his neck a full one hundred and eighty degrees, and he called to the scurrying aide: “And get me some pickled mousetails while you’re at it.” He smacked his lips and again turned to his wife. “Don’t tell me they’re bad for me, I know it already. But today is a special occasion.”

“So was yesterday,” she said calmly.

“And so may tomorrow be,” thundered the Tinnani from his throne. “I can eat mousetails anytime I like. It’s part of being Chieftain, about the only part I enjoy. I wish I could chuck all the rest.”

His yellow eyes concentrated on Kate. “Now, as to you,” he hooted, “the one who tells my First Guardian she comes from the future and calls herself Kaitlyn. How dare you enter Ho Shantero spreading false rumors of warriors and assassins inside the crater? You have already caused me and my council no end of heartburn on the subject. Tell us now, finally and forever, that this rumor is a lie.”

Kate started to speak when a Tinnani wearing a wide-brimmed hat made of blue feathers stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, Your Wingedness, but shouldn’t we introduce you first?”

The Chieftain ruffled his wings annoyedly. “Formalities, formalities. I know who I am, so what does it matter if they do? Oh, all right, but be quick about it.” He sat back, tapping his belt buckle with one sharp talon.

The hatted aide spread his wings wide. From the back of the chamber came a chorus of deep horns, with a slight flourish of flutes at the finish. “I present to you Hockeltock de Notnot, Fourteenth Chieftain of the Tinnanis.” Again the horns sounded. “And Chieftess Hufter Blefoninni, who rules at his side.” The Tinnani closed his wings, bowed to the enthroned couple, and withdrew.

“Now, your answer,” commanded the Chieftain, still tapping his belt buckle.

“The rumor you spoke of,” began Kate, speaking as firmly as she could manage, “is not a lie. It is true. We met four of the creatures you call Slimnis near the Circle of Stones. They attacked us and we fought with them.” After a pause, she added, “They won’t bother anyone again.”

“Liar,” sputtered the Chieftain, turning to his wife. “Hear how she persists?” The Chieftess sat impassively, following Kate’s slightest movement with her wide yellow eyes. “It’s enough to give me indigestion,” muttered the Chieftain. “Oysters! Where are those oysters?”

At that instant, a pair of Tinnanis wearing long capes of woven grasses flew to the throne from the back of the hall, one bearing a low-rimmed basket piled high with delicacies, the other a narrow container made of shiny purple stone. Laying the bounty on a low table brought by another aide, they bowed and backed slowly away.

“It’s about time,” snapped the rotund Tinnani, stuffing raw oysters and pickled mousetails into his little mouth. “Mmmmmff, dere id nodding ataw wike ekfewend dafood,” he said while chomping.

After swallowing three such mouthfuls, the Chieftain reached for the narrow container, brought it to his mouth, and washed it all down. A brief look of satisfaction, almost mirth, crossed his face, then abruptly turned into a scowl. “Your story is clearly false. What would the Slimnis want with you, two humans and a mangy little dog?”

Monga growled quietly. Laioni reached to him and stroked his head until he grew silent again.

Kate stepped forward, displaying the walking stick. “They attacked us,” she declared, “because they wanted this stick.”

A fluttering of wings filled the chamber. Several of the Tinnanis drew nearer, hoping to get a better view of the intricately carved object. The Chieftess in particular stretched forward to examine it closely. Then the Chieftain waved them all back with one of his hands and spoke sternly to Kate.

“Do you think you can fool me so easily? That is no stick of power. It is nothing but a fake.”

“It is not,” objected Kate. “It’s the real thing. It brought me here from the future. Through a time tunnel. All I need is for you to tell me how to make it take me back. And soon, before they cut down the Ancient One, or I won’t get back at all.”

The Chieftain scowled at her. “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help your All your kind has ever done is torment my people.”

Laioni stepped forward. “That’s not so, Your Wingedness. The Halamis live with your people and the rest of the forest beings in peace. A few of our number have turned bad, it is true, but most of us take only what we need, honor the land, and cherish its fruits.”

“She speaks the truth,” spoke the Chieftess gently.

“Oh, she does, does she?” demanded the Tinnani by her side. Facing Kate, he asked bluntly, “Can you say the same for the humans of your time?”

Kate blanched. “Well, ah, I guess—no, not really. I’m afraid the people in my time have forgotten most of what the Halamis knew.” She stiffened her spine. “But some haven’t forgotten. Aunt Melanie, the one who—”

“Enough,” bellowed the Chieftain, reaching for another handful of mousetails. “We already know what the humans of your time are like. We have even learned to speak their language.” He sniffed the delicacy appreciatively. “For we have met one of them.”

Kate’s heart leaped. “So you know Aunt Melanie?”

The Chieftain leaned forward, dangling the uneaten mousetails from his hand. “I will tell you about the humans of your time. They are thankless, grasping, and unconnected. To themselves, to the land, to their fellow beings. They know no wonderment. Their memory is short and their vision is shorter. They believe the world is nothing more than a bundle of firewood for their use, to be burned and the coals discarded.”

“Much like another in our own time,” muttered the Chieftess.

“Aunt Melanie’s not like that,” objected Kate. “And the others—well, they can still learn. They just need help. That’s why Aunt Melanie’s so important to the future. And she’s in big trouble. I know she is. Won’t you please help me get back to her?”

“Absolutely not,” said the Chieftain. He plunged the mousetails into his mouth, chewed briefly, and swallowed them with a gulp. Then, with a gleam in his yellow eyes, he said, “I will, however, do something better.”

He hooted to an aide standing next to the entrance of one of the side tunnels ringing the room. “Bring me the visitor from the future.”

Kate gaped at the Chieftain, then at Laioni. “Aunt Melanie? Here?”

They heard a scuffling sound from the side tunnel. Two Tinnanis emerged escorting someone who alternately kicked and cursed at them.

“Hey, let me go, you stupid owls,” shouted the visitor as they entered the great hall. His injured shoulder had been bandaged, and one arm hung in a sling beneath his repaired yellow rain jacket. But his mood was clearly not one of gratitude.

“Jody,” said Kate disappointedly.

“Bring him closer,” commanded the Chieftain.

As soon as the boy came near, his eyes met Kate’s. “You!” he exclaimed angrily. “You’re the one who did this. You lousy . . . Where in hell’s half acre am I? What did you do with all my friends?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed spitefully. “Like the one who dared you to shoot the owl?”

Jody suddenly fell back, as if he had been hit with a two-by-four. He looked at Kate with an expression of real remorse, then suddenly his eyes grew wide with fear. Looking around at the dozens of owl-shaped figures surrounding him, he whispered, “Is this—is this my—my punishment?”

Kate could not help but grin. “Yes, and you’d better behave or they’ll do to you what you did to their friend.”

The boy shuddered, ran a hand through his red hair. “I’ve got to be dreaming,” he muttered.

The Chieftain spun his head toward Kate. “And you want to go back to people like that?”

Gripping the shaft firmly, she replied, “They’re not all like that.” Then a question came to her. “Why did you bring him here, since I’m sure you found out what he’s like right away? Why didn’t you just leave him in the redwood grove?”

“To learn more about the future,” snapped the Chieftain, dropping a raw oyster into his mouth. “And we learned more than we wanted to know.”

“You could have done that without bringing him here,” pressed Kate, “and saved yourself a lot of trouble. I think you had another reason.”

The ruler of the Tinnanis did not reply. Then the Chieftess snapped her jaws and spoke: “You are right. It was the prophecy.”

“Prophecy? What prophecy?”

“Silence!” boomed the Chieftain. “I will have no talk of prophecies in front of these unworthies. Now go away, all of you,”

“Wait,” pleaded Kate. “Won’t you tell me anything about this walking stick? I came all this way for your help.”

The Chieftess started to speak, but the voice of Hockeltock de Notnot cut her off. “No,” he insisted. “We have no more time for strangers. Now, leave. I have other matters to deal with.”

Kate could see Laioni’s crestfallen face from the corner of her eye, even as her gaze fell to the ground. She thrust her hands sadly into her pockets. Unthinkingly, one hand closed around her Swiss army knife and the other around—something else. Half curious what the small round object could be, she pulled it out to view it. At once, she had an idea.

“Wait,” she said, stepping nearer to the throne. “Wait a minute. I have something here you will like.” She extended her hand, displaying a single, plastic-wrapped peppermint candy, the one she had found in the tunnel behind Kahona Falls.

The Tinnani ruffled his wings and eyed her suspiciously. “How do I know it’s not some kind of poison?”

“It’s not. I’ll prove it.” Kate removed the wrapping and crammed it back into her pocket. Then she took an exaggerated lick of the peppermint, smiling broadly. “It tastes great.”

The aide with the feather hat rushed up, waving his hands excitedly. “Don’t do it, Your Wingedness. It’s a trick.”

“Here,” said Kate as she dropped the item into the Chieftain’s hand. “I promise it’s safe.”

Casting an imperial glare at the aide, the enthroned Tinnani turned to his wife. “Does she tell the truth?”

The Chieftess spun her head slowly toward her husband, then blinked. “She does.”

The Tinnani brought the strange object to his nose and sniffed. Nothing on his facial expression changed for a long moment. Then all at once, he smiled. “Nothing that smells this good could be poison,” he said, plunking the sweet into his mouth.

His eyes widened with pleasure. “Ooooooh,” he said giddily. “This is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It is exquisite, fantastic.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, where did you get it?”

Kate’s eyes twinkled. “It is a great and rare delicacy, Your Wingedness, called peppermint. It is found only in my own time, five hundred years from now.”

“Huh?” said Jody, who had been growing increasingly bewildered. Among the various speakers, he could understand only Kate’s language. Yet hearing her words did not make them intelligible. “What do you mean, five hundred years from now?”

Kate scowled at him, waving threateningly in his direction the owl’s head handle that so resembled the Chieftain. “This is going to get you, if you say another word.”

Immediately, the boy stepped back a pace. He stared at her warily.

Kate turned back to the Chieftain, who continued to suck delightedly. “It is an exotic fruit from my time,” she said. Then, judging her moment, she added, “If you tell me how to get back there, I promise that if I ever return I’ll bring you more.”

“How many more?” asked the Tinnani, straightening the silver band on his head.

Kate deliberated. “How many would you like?”

The Chieftain’s tufted eyebrows lifted. His voice, cracking with anticipation, replied, “Fifty. A hundred. No, a thousand!”

“A thousand it is,” agreed Kate.

“Ten thousand.”

“Okay, but that’s my limit.”

“How soon can you come back?”

“I don’t know,” she answered cautiously. “But I promise it’ll be as soon as I’m able.”

Turning to his wife, the Chieftain asked, “Will she keep her word?”

Her yellow eyes scanning Kate as if they could see straight through her, the Chieftess nodded in assent.

Hockeltock de Notnot raised his great wings. “All right then. We will tell you. But I warn you, the answer to your question is easier to say than to do. Go ahead, my Chieftess, tell this human what she needs to know to make the stick of power do her bidding.”

And the slender Tinnani by his side raised her scepter, the signal she was about to speak.

XVIII:
T
HE
T
ALE OF THE
B
ROKEN
T
OUCHSTONE

Beneath the flickering light from the torches, the assembled Tinnanis drew nearer, embracing their rulers in a wide semicircle. Their eyes, plus all other eyes except Jody’s, fell to the feathered creature seated on the crystalline throne. Her gaze, like Jody’s, remained on Kate.

The Chieftess stretched herself upward, pressing her plumage close to her body, so that she seemed nearly as tall as her throne. At length, she lowered the scepter. In a deep, gentle voice, she began to speak:

“The walking stick in your possession is indeed a stick of power. And it is old, very old indeed. Its memory stretches far beyond my own, beyond the Chieftain’s, beyond that of any living being save the Stonehags, into an earlier time when our world felt not the heat of the Wicked One’s breath. Like its makers the Tinnanis, it can render its holder or someone nearby completely invisible.” She paused. “I can see by your expression you already know of this power.”