The Whim of the Dragon (17 page)

They had to go up the narrow stairs one at a time. They passed three landings, all with little square windows having a border in red stained glass alternating with clear, with an occasional clump of grapes or stylized flowers. On the fourth floor the stairs let them into a wide hallway lined with open doors. It was dusty up here; Ruth sneezed, Ted said, “Bless you,” and Randolph looked at him sharply before going through the nearest door on the left. This room was empty, and had another door at the far end of its left-hand wall, which proved to lead to an even steeper and narrower flight of steps. The steps ended in a trapdoor.

Randolph heaved the trapdoor open, maneuvering his sword into such a position that he had some chance of slicing anybody who might try to come down. The flat slap of the door on the floor above died in its echoes, and the echoes dwindled, and they could hear the rain hitting the roof of the tower. There was no other sound, except for everybody’s breathing. The light falling through the square in the floor was a very rich yellow, mellower than sunlight and stronger than lamplight. It fell on Ruth’s upturned, intent face and made minute, sparkling globes out of every raindrop in her hair. It was cold up here at the top of the house.

“Oh,
no
,” said Ted. “Ruth. The color of the light.”

“Oh, good grief,” said Ruth. “It can’t be.”

“Randolph,” said Ted. “Can we come up?”

Randolph, without answering or looking around, heaved himself through the opening. There was a clattering thump, presumably his sword being dropped on the floor. Just as Ted began to worry, Randolph’s head reappeared, outlined in gold, and he reached a hand back through the trapdoor to help Ruth, who stared at it dumbly.

“Go
on,
” said Ted under his breath.

Ruth took Randolph’s hand, which she probably didn’t need, and disappeared into the room above. Ted clambered up the last ten steps, pulled himself onto the floor, stood up, took two steps sideways to leave space for the rest of the party, and looked at the contents of the room. There were two wooden benches with arms carved like dragons’ heads, a purple rug worked with blue and green dragons, and a round oak table that supported an enormous globe sparkling with motes of color and shot through with miniature lightnings. The globe was much bigger than the one in High Castle.

“Jesus!” said Ted.

“Don’t swear,” said Ruth, “you’re getting as bad as Patrick.”

“Shan’s mercy!” said the Peony, scrambling to her feet behind Andrew. In that light the polished blade of her sword was the color of honey. She looked horrified. “My lords! How came this here?”

“That,” said Randolph, “is the question.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Ted, without in the least meaning to. “That isn’t the Crystal of Earth.”

“How do you know?” said Ruth.

“Look at it,” said Ted, and when instead she went on looking at him with every evidence of exasperation, he mouthed “Edward” at her. Ruth turned obediently and stared at the shining globe.

“It’s larger than the one in High Castle,” she admitted.

“But of the same fashion otherwise,” said Andrew.

“No, not quite,” said Ted, having consulted the back of his mind. “Isn’t the light yellower? And the other one wasn’t so—so active, was it? I don’t remember all that lightning.”

“Still,” said the Peony, without lowering her sword, “what manner of thing is this?”

“Break it, and find out,” said Andrew.

Ruth turned on him, pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand and flourishing the other at him as if he were a dog that was about to jump up on her. “You sound
just
like Patrick!” she said.

“It’s not a completely crazy idea,” said Ted. “If the one in High Castle is the real thing, then breaking this one won’t destroy the Hidden Land. And this is in Claudia’s house, and it’s the second of something there’s supposed to be only one of.”

“
If
the one in High Castle is the real thing,” said Ruth.

“My Lord Randolph?” said Ted, again without meaning to. Edward, damn his eyes, must have been accustomed to getting sorcerous advice from Randolph when Fence wasn’t available.

Randolph was silent for so long that Ted wanted to repeat the question, but he was afraid to. Finally Randolph said, “There are five signs whereby one may know the Crystal of Earth. These are the color of it, the shape of it, its texture, its place of abiding, and that which showeth in its depths when the full moon shines upon it.”

“Lovely,” said Ruth.

“What’s the color of it supposed to be?” said Ted.

“As the apples of Feren,” said Randolph.

Ruth fished in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out one of the little hard yellow apples that had come into season just as the five of them tried to leave the Hidden Land. “Like this?”

“That is an apple of Feren,” said Randolph.

Ruth gave Ted a look compounded of relief and resignation, and held the apple up. “Well?” said she.

“How can you tell?” said Ted. “That light colors everything.”

“This is profoundly silly,” said Ruth.

“The method may be so,” said Randolph. “The results are far other.” He looked around at them. “An it please you, my lady, give Andrew the apple. My lord, you have a fine eye for color. Will you look on this globe, and descending view the apple in some other light, and return to us with your verdict?”

“Well, if none of you will play at chess the nonce,” said Andrew, smiling, “this game likes me as well as another.” He took the little apple from Ruth’s unresisting hand, crossed the room with his graceful walk, so like his sister’s, and disappeared down the steps.

“What next?” said Ted. “The shape of it? It’s round. So’s the other one. What about texture?”

“The Crystal of Earth,” said Randolph, “though it appeareth as glass or crystal to the eye, and is called so, is yet to the hand like unto a piece of fine velvet.”

Ruth caught Ted’s attention and rolled her eyes heavenward. Ted did not respond; he had suddenly remembered how the panes of Claudia’s window had given before his avenging hand like cloth, not glass. He walked forward to the round table, and cautiously put out his hand. The globe did not seem to have an edge at all; but about two feet in from the spot where the yellow glow faded into the weird sparkling air of the room, his hand encountered a surface that was indeed like cloth. It was nothing like velvet, but had rather the sleek, soft feel of silk. Ted looked over his shoulder at Randolph, and Randolph came forward and laid his own hand on the globe.

“Silk,” said he.

“That’s what I thought. Well, what’s the next thing? The place of its abiding?”

“That is the North Tower of High Castle.”

Ted called up a view of the house to his mind’s eye, and groaned. “This is a north tower,” he said, “but this isn’t High Castle. Well, what’s next?”

“The full moon,” said Ruth, in tones of disgust.

“There is a full moon tonight,” said the Peony.

“If the rain stoppeth,” said Randolph, looking thoughtful.

“I thought this embassy had a certain urgency about it,” said Ruth. “Do we have time to hang around testing dubious magical artifacts by methods that are, to say the least, extremely subjective?”

“Now
you
sound like Patrick,” said Ted.

“Patrick may be a jerk, but his principles are not invariably wrong,” said Ruth.

“This artifact,” said Randolph, saying the word as if he rather liked it, “is a matter, on account of what its action on the world may be, far more urgent than this our embassy.”

Ruth’s face took on the most obstinate expression of which it was capable. Ted had seen it only once or twice. He had opened his mouth to forestall whatever she might be going to say, when the sound of Andrew returning distracted all of them. Andrew put his head over the edge of the trapdoor. “The light that this globe giveth,” he said, “hath a more warm and golden nature than the tint of the apple.”

“Our thanks to you,” said Randolph. “Now, my lady, do but consider.”

“What should I consider? At least two of your signs don’t match this object, so why should we hang around on the off chance that the sky will clear?”

“If this be not the Crystal of Earth,” said Randolph, “it is yet something like, and therefore, it may be, a most potent force for good or ill. If to damage it ruineth not the Hidden Land, it may yet ruin some land other.”

“He means, Ruthie,” said Ted, “that it’s a dangerous thing to leave lying about.”

“And suppose Claudia left it here just to delay us?”

Randolph, looking suddenly very tired, opened his mouth; and Ted realized that they did not have to argue. He was the King. “We’d better stay,” he said.

Ruth gave him a betrayed and furious look. He met it, with some difficulty, while he said, “Randolph, could you go get the rest of them and tell them to stop whatever they’re doing? We might as well use the kitchen, and be in out of the wet.”

“As Your Majesty wills it,” said Randolph.

Randolph shepherded Andrew and the Peony back down the steps. The sounds of their feet grew faint and stopped, and Ted and Ruth went on staring at each other. She looked unnervingly like Randolph. The yellow light of the globe showed little gleams of red in her hair and made her eyes the color of new leaves. It did not soften her expression.

“Come on,” said Ted.

“Suppose Claudia left it here just to—”

“Okay, she might have. But it doesn’t exist just to delay us. It’s too like the real thing. I think it has powers.”

“Well, leave somebody to guard it, or send back to High Castle for Meredith to deal with it.”

“Ruth, it’s just one night. The Dragon King expects us anytime before winter.”

“It makes me extremely nervous,” said Ruth.

“Not investigating would make me extremely nervous.”

“And you’re the King.”

“Well,” said Ted, “I’m afraid I am.”

Ruth heaved a deep sigh. She no longer looked angry, or obstinate, but her face was very sober. “Thou wouldst not think,” she said, “how ill all’s here about my heart.”

Ted decided to take a risk. “But it is no matter?”

Ruth made an angry gesture, and then suddenly smiled at him. “It is but foolery,” she said. “But it is such a kind of gaingiving as would perhaps trouble a woman.”

Ted said, and meant it, “If your mind dislike anything, obey it.”

“No,” said Ruth. “My mind doesn’t dislike anything that much. Let’s stay, and consider this thing with such a scientific detachment and precision as would make thy brother proud of us, did he know of ’t.”

“I’ll give you the pleasure of telling him,” said Ted.

Ruth did him a courtesy, very gravely; and they went downstairs to join the others.

 

Somebody in this party—probably, thought Ruth, either Randolph or Andrew—was efficient. By the time she and Ted had finished their discussion, matters downstairs were well advanced. The unfortunates who had been preparing food outside had descended upon Claudia’s kitchen; the horses had been snugly incarcerated in one of Claudia’s outbuildings; a fire had been built in Claudia’s parlor and everybody’s wet outer garments hung about the room to dry; and Ruth found herself in Claudia’s vegetable garden with Lord Andrew, foraging for late tomatoes and the fall crop of beans.

The rain had slackened to a mild drizzle. The water-laden plants and ankle-deep mud of the garden were troublesome, but Ruth had always liked getting muddy, so long as there was a clear prospect of a hot bath afterward. There was a fire in the parlor and a huge copper tub in Claudia’s kitchen; so Ruth, with a basket over her arm, was enjoying herself.

Andrew seemed to know his way around a garden; he was finding twice as many tomatoes as she was. Ruth would have ventured some pleasant remark, except that she was ignorant of his previous relations with Lady Ruth, and no longer trusted Lady Ruth to have behaved in a manner that would not embarrass somebody taking her place. Andrew did not seem disposed to conversation; he looked, in fact, sulky, and so consistently kept his eyes from Ruth that by the time they had moved on to the beans, she felt safe in staring at him.

He did look like Claudia. He didn’t have her coloring; she had hair so black you could see neither blue nor red in it, and big brown eyes, and her eyebrows, without looking in the least as though she plucked or shaped them, were arched like the ears of a cat. Andrew had ordinary brown hair and eyes of an indeterminate color between brown and green. But the shape of them was the same, and the arch of the light brows, and an extremely stubborn chin. He didn’t look like a villain. But then, thought Ruth, straightening her back and hurling a bunch of blackened beans over the tomatoes to land squelchily in the patch of broccoli, he wasn’t really a villain. He was there to divert suspicion from Randolph, and to subvert the King with his vile philosophies. But he believed the philosophies, and they were inaccurate rather than evil.

There was, of course, the matter of his spying for the Dragon King. If he had. It was maddening; even when the game was over, its mystifying effect lingered. Was Andrew a spy or wasn’t he? Fence and Randolph thought that so being would suit Andrew’s character. But to Ruth it seemed very odd that a man who did not believe in magic should serve a seven-hundred-year-old shape-changer who generally chose to appear as a dragon. She wondered how the Dragon King appeared to Andrew.

Andrew straightened his own back, and caught her looking at him. Ruth felt herself turning red, but managed not to look away. “Shall we try for some eggplant now?” she said.

“A light thought,” said Andrew, “to accompany so deep a gaze.” There was an accusing tone in his voice that she was at a loss to account for. He acted as if she owed him an apology.

“I was thinking about dragons,” she said.

Andrew began walking toward the corner occupied by the eggplant, and she went with him. Claudia had a very good drystone wall around her garden, three feet high and solid. It was mostly gray and white stones, mixed here and there with slabs of the familiar pink. Andrew leaned against one of these and looked at Ruth. “Dragons. Those whose whim may destroy us,” said Andrew, with a kind of exasperated sarcasm.