The Burning City (60 page)

“I saw Behemoth once,” Willow said. “But why does the wizard want to know about Behemoth? And the Stone Needles Behemoth, it was
white?”

“That idiot. That utter idiot. Ah,
curse.”
The women were staring. Whandall said, “Lilac, Stone won't turn back now.”

Shall we assemble provisions? Can you grant a second wish?

The bird returned in three days. They must be in transit. I
can't prepare your second wish if you can't describe it. We need
… There followed a brief list of provisions.

Whandall said, “Morth is keeping the weight down.”

“Tell him to give us back our man!”

“If we wanted a kinless we could have raised one, Lilac. Son and husband, but not slave. Green Stone stands by his own decisions.”

“Then carve out a wish that keeps him safe until we see him again!”

“Spells don't work in Tep's Town—”

“They can, you know,” said Willow. “You saw ghosts in the Black Pit! And there's magic along most of the Hemp Road—”

“Try this, then:
Cast good fortune for travelers under the Feathersnake sign.”

Done. Expect us in six days.

“There's one more thing I can try,” Whandall said, “but we can't count on it. Willow, if Stone goes anyway, shall I go with him?”

“Yes!”

The wagon was in sight a good hour before it arrived. Morth and Stone stopped just under the Feathersnake sign, and there they prepared a brief ritual. As soon as Whandall realized he was watching magic, he went behind the house and waited until he heard the gong.

Green Stone guided the bison through the gate. Whandall made no move to stop or welcome them. This had been the topic of much discussion. But when they were firmly on his land, Whandall lifted the black glass bottle and silently showed it to Morth.

Green Stone reacted with wild laughter.
“Yes!
Father, it was wonderful! You should have seen it! Morth said you didn't know—”

Morth said, “I should have bought both bottles. Curse, why not? One might break!”

“Well, yes, but what is it? But if it's a good story, save it for the women.” Whandall led them behind the house, to a table and chairs set under a great tree. Willow and Lilac were waiting there, and servants had laid out a lunch.

Willow could think of no way to talk to her son without letting Morth of Atlantis onto New Castle land. But he wasn't to come inside!

Whandall set the bottle on the table, waited until Morth was seated, and sat down himself. Green Stone was still standing, looking at Lilac. Lilac looked back.

“I
had
to wonder why you came to Road's End,” Whandall said to Morth. “Nobody but White Lightning can make anything like this bottle. My guess is, you want to carry magic. Something like a talisman, in a cold iron glaze so nothing godlike can leach it out.”

Morth said, “Very good—”

“Father, we've got a whole wagon load of them!” Green Stone caroled.

Morth swallowed a snarl. Green Stone saw that… but Morth waved,
Tell it
, and Green Stone did.

“Father, we set up camp by the stream, on a nice wide beach of clean white sand, on the eighth night. In the morning the wizard went up the mountain. I waited for two days—”

“I wanted to borrow Behemoth,” Morth said. “The Hermit would have given him up, but I saw that the white Behemoth is the Hermit's only friend.”

Lilac dropped her staring contest.
“Borrow
Behemoth?”

“I couldn't do that to him,” Morth told her. “But at least I could deal with the bottles—”

Green Stone broke in. “Morth brought a chunk of cast iron with him, shaped like a heart with lumps around the rim, and
heavy.
We half buried that in the sand and he set the bottle on it. Then we went back to the wagon.

“Night came. We'd left Morth's bottle behind a stand of bushes. Lights made scrollwork in the sky above it, curving out like a thousand whirlpools. Morth wouldn't let me go and look. When we went back in the morning there were bottles, more than I could count. They weren't all the same size. They trailed off in arcs and spirals and little knots, getting smaller and smaller, no bigger than sand grains at the tips. We left most of them. I don't know how Morth picked which ones to take.”

Morth shrugged. “I took the biggest.”

“The iron was all gone. There was just a pit shaped like a lumpy heart.”

“So,” Whandall said, “you need a
lot
of… what?”

“Virgin gold,” Morth said.

“Wild
magic?”

“I can't tell you any more. I wish you didn't know as much as you do! But I can't go near raw gold, so I'll need help to collect it.”

“Yes. Well,” Whandall said, “I've examined that bottle. Then I wondered what you might not want me thinking when
Yangin-Atep
looks in there.”

“You'd come?”

He let his eyes flick toward Green Stone. “I'd have to.” Let the boy work out the rest.

“How often have you felt the touch of the fire god?” Morth asked.

“Yangin-Atep left me about the time you did. Just that once. I think.” Earlier? The madness with Dream-Lotus? Easy to blame that on the god, but he knew better. “Just that once, with Yangin-Atep. A season later, Coyote had me for some hours. Both did me more good than harm.”

“We should hire you out as an inn. All gods welcome at the Sign of the Winged Serpent.”

So there it was. Taking Whandall into the Burning City might tell the fire god too much. If Morth refused to carry Whandall, he might leave Green Stone too… and Whandall saw now that that wouldn't work. He dared not let Green Stone go alone.

He said, “If rumor of the Feathersnake sign has reached Tep's Town, you'll be safer with me along.”

“Yes, if you can go as a legitimate merchant! Your son and I have spoken of this. The caravan must be nearly to the Firewoods already. We'll meet them and assemble a few wagons.
That
will be easier with you along….”

They'd finished eating. This would have been the time to invite Morth
to stay the night, but of course that wasn't going to happen. “I'll ask some men to load your wagon,” Whandall said.

“Good. Whandall, taking you into Tep's Town might be too dangerous now.”

“Sorry.”

“But I need you to persuade… curse. Curse! Come. We should get on to Road's End. We may not have much time.”

Lilac said, “I'll come that far. Stone and I should talk. I'll walk back.”

“Take the bird,” Willow said.

They walked into the house to get the bird. Willow asked, “What's
your
intent?”

“As Morth says. Get some wagons from the caravan, and anyone who wants to come along, and goods to sell to the Lords in Tep's Town. Come back with tar for your brothers, if nothing else.”

“You're going, then.”

“Don't you see? Morth offered Green Stone a ride on the Piebald Behemoth!
No
boy of nineteen could turn that down.”

She said, “Nor can a boy of forty-three.” Seshmarls walked onto her arm and across her shoulder to Whandall's. “Let me know what's happening.”

“I will.”

Whandall drove with Morth beside him. Lilac and Green Stone talked in the back, and whatever they babbled of persuasions and recriminations was lost. Blue in the distance, a shape from the world's dawn ambled toward them.

Morth said, “Behemoth must be close to Road's End by now. I wish I could have warned Twisted Cloud.”

“You know, this is the craziest thing I've ever done,” Whandall said.

“I'm
not crazy. Crazy would be waiting for a water elemental to find me. I don't know what the sprite is doing. I've
never
known how far it can come inland. I've got to keep
moving.”

Repairs, loading, rebuilding of warehouses, all had stopped while Twisted Cloud and four of the chief's men watched Behemoth come. The men gaped in awe. Twisted Cloud was wild with laughter and delight.

The shaman caught sight of Morth. “Wizard, is that yours? The beast should be here by morning.”

“I wish it were sooner.”

“Wizard's flattery?”

“Medicine woman's sarcasm? I feel the elemental's cold wet breath on my neck.”

Behemoth drifted toward Road's End like a storm cloud. Twisted Cloud watched. “He looks to be covering a league with every step, but he isn't. Wizard, how does one summon Behemoth?”

“Like summoning a rabbit for dinner. You must know the prey in your mind. I have Green Stone's stories of Behemoth and his description of a dead mammoth. As you see, they were enough.”

Lilac and Green Stone would have their chance to make peace, Whandall thought, in one of the guesthouses tonight. The magicians would have to share another. Rumor told that Twisted Cloud had given up men years ago. But she seemed to get along with Morth, and Whandall wondered…. Well, after all, who wouldn't?

By dawn light it was as if Road's End huddled at the foot of a small hairy mountain. Behemoth was still a morning's walk uphill and would come no closer.

Morth's bottles, and a parsimonious few of the goods Whandall had sequestered, rode in the wagon with Lilac, Twisted Cloud, Morth, Whandall, and Green Stone. The bison ambled straight toward the great beast. Behemoth's illusion was too
big
to worry them.

As they neared Behemoth, he seemed to dwindle.

When they stood beneath him, he was a living image of a mammoth. Not small! He stank like a whole herd of wild bison. His trunk took Morth's proffered hand, and Morth spoke Atlantean gibberish. Then the beast lifted Morth into place.

Morth sang and danced on its back. The point of that became clear when dead things began raining out of its hair: parasites in wild variety, from mites too small to see up to crustaceans the size of a thumb joint. Morth brushed more from under the beast's great flapping ears.

Under Morth's direction they girdled the beast's torso with the fishnet they'd carried from Great Hawk Bay.

The beast picked up the travelers one by one. Whandall managed not to scream. Green Stone lifted his arms and
hugged
the beast's trunk. It lifted their cargo up to them and they tied every item carefully in the fishnet, while the bird fluttered wide around them, screaming curses. Lastly Morth summoned the bird with a gesture. Behemoth turned toward the hills.

The beast climbed steadily up a ravine, brushing aside knee-high bushes and trees, until it reached the ridge line. This high, the wind was cold. Whandall imitated Morth: he huddled prone against the beast's back, gripping the net. It was like riding a furnace.

Compared to wooden wheels bouncing on a rutted road, this ride was wonderfully smooth. Their motion was barely felt. Whandall savored the awe and the thrill of riding a moving mountain, if not as master, at least as a guest. Was this anything like what Wanshig had felt aboard a ship?