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threatened to do more to the world than chill it. Talea and Mudge are creatures of the moment, he
thought. They cannot grasp the significance of Clothahump's visions. He huddled deeper under the gray
blanket, ignoring the persistent aroma of the squirrelquette's perfume. It clashed with the smell of dried
blood.
Thunder crossed the sky overhead, oral signatory to the last distant vestiges of the night storm. It helped
them bid farewell to Lynchbany. He was not sorry to leave.
Soon they were in the woods. Oaks and elms showed familiar silhouettes against the more melodious
boles of belltree and coronet vine. The latter generated an oboesque sob as if pleading for the advent of
day and the refreshing heat of the sun.
For hours they plodded steadily on. The road wound like a stream around the hills, taking advantage of
the lowest route, never cresting more than an occasional rise. Small lakes and ponds sometimes flanked
the trail. They were inhabited by a vast assortment of aquatic lizards who meeped and gibbered in place
of frogs. Each glowed a different color, some green, others red or pink, still others a rich azure. Each
bubble of sound was accompanied by an increase in light. The ponds were full of chirping searchlights
that drifted from branch to bank.
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Jon-Tom watched the water and its luminescent reptilians fade behind them. The ponds became a brook
which ran fast and friendly alongside the rutted wagon track. Unlike the other travelers it was indifferent
to who might overhear its conversation, and it gurgled merrily while teasing their wheels.
Resignation gave way once more to his natural curiosity.
"Well, we're long out of town." He spoke to Talea. "Where are we going?" Rising to his knees he
reached out a hand to steady himself in the jouncing wagon. It gave an unexpected lurch to the right, and
he caught her side instead of the back of the seat. Hastily he moved his fingers, but she had neither
moved away nor protested.
"Somewhere where we can't be trapped," she replied. "For God knows even a blithering Lynchbany
cop could piss and track the ruts of this wagon at the same time. Like any other creature we retreat to a
lair and we don't fight unless we're cornered. And where we're going not even the police will dare come."
"I ain't sure I'd agree to that." Mudge sounded more hopeful than assured. "Tis more of an uneasy truce."
"Nonetheless," she countered, "we're far more likely to be safe there than anyplace else." Jon-Tom still
gazed questioningly at her.
"We're going to the local branch of the intracounty association of disadvantaged self-employed artisans
and underachievers," she explained.
"Thieves' Hall," Mudge grunted....
VIII
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They spent the rest of the night curled beneath the thick blanket in the back of the wagon. Mudge and
Talea were soon as motionless as her former victims, but Jon-Tom was too keyed up to sleep. Talea was
silent as a stone, but a steady snoring in the form of a high-pitched whistle came from the gray-clad lump
that was Mudge.
Jon-Tom lay on his back and studied the night sky, framed by the overhanging branches of the trees.
Some of the constellations overhead were familiar, though out of place. Location as well as season was
different here. It was a great comfort, however, to see the easily recognizable shape of Orion standing
stalwart as ever against the interstellar vastness.
Once something with ghostly gray fluorescent wings passed between him and the moon, a delicate
crinoid shape that might have been a reptile, or bird, or something unimaginable. It trailed thin yellow
streamers behind it, and for an instant it glittered in the sky.
Then it was gone behind the trees. A low hiccoughing came from some concealed arboreal thing.
Tiny feet sounded like twigs on the road. Their owner paused to sniff at the wagon wheels before
skittering onward. Sycamores and gingkos conversed in low philosophical woodtones. They lulled him
finally into a deep, dreamless sleep....
He awoke to a welcome sun filtering down through the leaves and a weight on his left shoulder. Turning
his head, he saw Talea snuggled up against him. She was sleeping on her side, resting on his shoulder,
one arm thrown limply across his chest. He had mixed feelings about disturbing the sculpture. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]