The singing
soldiers proved to be Runmust, Iqbal and Riverwalker. They had come
to rescue the rest of us when Tobo reached them with news of the
disaster that had befallen us down below. They had found us by
following the smoke. “At the risk of finding myself goaded
into employing unseemly language, how is it that I find anyone
singing? How is it that you haven’t taken the road to The
Land of the Unknown Shadows? I believe I was pretty insistent on
the necessity for that.”
Runmust and Iqbal giggled like they were younger than Tobo and
knew a dirty joke. Riverwalker managed to maintain a more sober
demeanor. Barely. “You’re tired and hungry, so we
don’t blame you for being cranky, Sleepy. Let’s do
something about that. Settle down and have a snack.” He could
not restrain a big, goofy grin as he rummaged in his pack.
I exchanged glances with Swan. I asked, “You have any clue
what’s going on here?”
“Maybe there’s a stage of starvation where you get
lightheaded and silly.”
“I suppose Jaicur could have been an exception.”
Riverwalker produced something the shape and color of a puffball
mushroom but a good eight inches in diameter. It looked heavier
than a mushroom that size ought to be.
“What the hell is that?” Swan asked. River had
several more in his pack. And his henchmen had brought packs,
too.
Riverwalker produced a knife and began slicing. “A gift
from our demon friend, Shivetya. Evidently after a day of
reflection he decided we deserved a payoff for saving his big ugly
ass. Eat.” He offered me an end slice an inch thick.
“You’ll like it.”
Swan started eating before I did. I had an ounce of paranoia
left. He leaned my way. “Tastes like pork.
Heh-heh-heh.” Then he had no time for joking. He began
wolfing the material, which looked exactly the same all the way
through.
It had a heavy, almost cheesy texture. When I surrendered to the
inevitable and bit into it, my salivary system responded with a
flood. The experience of taste was so sharp it was almost painful.
There was nothing comparable in my memory. A touch of ginger, a
touch of cinnamon, lemons, sweetness, the scent of candied
violets . . . After the first shock a sense of
well-being gradually spread outward from my mouth, and again from
my stomach soon after the first mouthfuls hit bottom.
“More,” Swan said.
Riverwalker surrendered another slice.
“More,” I agreed, and bit into another slice myself.
It might be poison but if it was, it was the sweetest poison God
ever permitted. “Shivetya really gave you this?”
“About a ton. Almost literally. Fit for man and beast.
Even the baby likes it.”
Iqbal and Runmust found that news hilarious. Swan snickered,
too, though he could not possibly have any idea what the joke might
be. In fact, I found that assertion rather amusing myself. Heck,
everything was amusing. I had begun to feel relaxed and confident.
My aches and pains no longer formed the center of my consciousness.
They had become mere annoyances way out on the edge of
awareness.
“Continue.”
Iqbal squealed, “He grew them. These nasty lumps developed
all over him, like bigass boils, only when they popped, out came
these things.”
Under more normal circumstances that idea and the images it
engendered would have seemed repulsive. I grunted, took another
wonderful mouthful, pictured the creation process, caught myself in
the midst of a fit of giggles. I regained control, though that took
an effort. “So it finally decided to communicate?”
“Sort of. When we left, it was trying to manage some kind
of dialog with Doj. It didn’t seem to be working all that
well, though.”
Swan sighed. “I haven’t felt this relaxed and
positive since Cordy and I used to go fishing when we were kids.
This’s the way we felt lying beside the creek in the shade,
never really caring if we got a bite while we shared our daydreams
or just watched clouds scoot overhead.”
Even the recollection of his friend’s fate did not break
his mood entirely.
I understood what he was trying to communicate even though I had
had no special friend with whom to share the rare, golden moments
of childhood. I had had no childhood. I felt really good myself. I
said, “This whatever-it-is is great stuff. River. You seen
any side effects yet?”
“It’s damned near impossible to stop yourself if you
get the giggles.”
“I’ll try not to get started. Wow! I feel like I
could whip twice my weight in wolves right now. Why don’t we
get going?”
Nobody took the opportunity to mention that me whipping twice my
weight in wolves might entail me fighting only the back half of one
of the monsters. Iqbal and Runmust continued to giggle over some
shared joke of long ago.
“Boys,” I said, pointing. “That way.
Don’t touch anything. Keep going. We’re going to go
back upstairs.”
Dang me, I kept getting silly ideas. And every one of them made
me want to start laughing. Riverwalker told me, “We found out
that if we sing it helps us keep our minds on business.” A
big grin spread across his face. He began humming one of the
filthier marching songs. It concerned the business that seems to be
on the minds of most men most of the time.
I hummed along and got everybody started moving.
Foul-smelling smoke from roasted books filled the cavern. It
seemed even stronger in the stairwell. Some of it drifted
downward.
Kina was not yet aware, I was sure. She would have done
something if she had known. But she would not remain ignorant
forever.
I hoped we could get ourselves well on the road before she
recovered enough to assimulate the truth. Her dreams were deadly
enough.
The singing
soldiers proved to be Runmust, Iqbal and Riverwalker. They had come
to rescue the rest of us when Tobo reached them with news of the
disaster that had befallen us down below. They had found us by
following the smoke. “At the risk of finding myself goaded
into employing unseemly language, how is it that I find anyone
singing? How is it that you haven’t taken the road to The
Land of the Unknown Shadows? I believe I was pretty insistent on
the necessity for that.”
Runmust and Iqbal giggled like they were younger than Tobo and
knew a dirty joke. Riverwalker managed to maintain a more sober
demeanor. Barely. “You’re tired and hungry, so we
don’t blame you for being cranky, Sleepy. Let’s do
something about that. Settle down and have a snack.” He could
not restrain a big, goofy grin as he rummaged in his pack.
I exchanged glances with Swan. I asked, “You have any clue
what’s going on here?”
“Maybe there’s a stage of starvation where you get
lightheaded and silly.”
“I suppose Jaicur could have been an exception.”
Riverwalker produced something the shape and color of a puffball
mushroom but a good eight inches in diameter. It looked heavier
than a mushroom that size ought to be.
“What the hell is that?” Swan asked. River had
several more in his pack. And his henchmen had brought packs,
too.
Riverwalker produced a knife and began slicing. “A gift
from our demon friend, Shivetya. Evidently after a day of
reflection he decided we deserved a payoff for saving his big ugly
ass. Eat.” He offered me an end slice an inch thick.
“You’ll like it.”
Swan started eating before I did. I had an ounce of paranoia
left. He leaned my way. “Tastes like pork.
Heh-heh-heh.” Then he had no time for joking. He began
wolfing the material, which looked exactly the same all the way
through.
It had a heavy, almost cheesy texture. When I surrendered to the
inevitable and bit into it, my salivary system responded with a
flood. The experience of taste was so sharp it was almost painful.
There was nothing comparable in my memory. A touch of ginger, a
touch of cinnamon, lemons, sweetness, the scent of candied
violets . . . After the first shock a sense of
well-being gradually spread outward from my mouth, and again from
my stomach soon after the first mouthfuls hit bottom.
“More,” Swan said.
Riverwalker surrendered another slice.
“More,” I agreed, and bit into another slice myself.
It might be poison but if it was, it was the sweetest poison God
ever permitted. “Shivetya really gave you this?”
“About a ton. Almost literally. Fit for man and beast.
Even the baby likes it.”
Iqbal and Runmust found that news hilarious. Swan snickered,
too, though he could not possibly have any idea what the joke might
be. In fact, I found that assertion rather amusing myself. Heck,
everything was amusing. I had begun to feel relaxed and confident.
My aches and pains no longer formed the center of my consciousness.
They had become mere annoyances way out on the edge of
awareness.
“Continue.”
Iqbal squealed, “He grew them. These nasty lumps developed
all over him, like bigass boils, only when they popped, out came
these things.”
Under more normal circumstances that idea and the images it
engendered would have seemed repulsive. I grunted, took another
wonderful mouthful, pictured the creation process, caught myself in
the midst of a fit of giggles. I regained control, though that took
an effort. “So it finally decided to communicate?”
“Sort of. When we left, it was trying to manage some kind
of dialog with Doj. It didn’t seem to be working all that
well, though.”
Swan sighed. “I haven’t felt this relaxed and
positive since Cordy and I used to go fishing when we were kids.
This’s the way we felt lying beside the creek in the shade,
never really caring if we got a bite while we shared our daydreams
or just watched clouds scoot overhead.”
Even the recollection of his friend’s fate did not break
his mood entirely.
I understood what he was trying to communicate even though I had
had no special friend with whom to share the rare, golden moments
of childhood. I had had no childhood. I felt really good myself. I
said, “This whatever-it-is is great stuff. River. You seen
any side effects yet?”
“It’s damned near impossible to stop yourself if you
get the giggles.”
“I’ll try not to get started. Wow! I feel like I
could whip twice my weight in wolves right now. Why don’t we
get going?”
Nobody took the opportunity to mention that me whipping twice my
weight in wolves might entail me fighting only the back half of one
of the monsters. Iqbal and Runmust continued to giggle over some
shared joke of long ago.
“Boys,” I said, pointing. “That way.
Don’t touch anything. Keep going. We’re going to go
back upstairs.”
Dang me, I kept getting silly ideas. And every one of them made
me want to start laughing. Riverwalker told me, “We found out
that if we sing it helps us keep our minds on business.” A
big grin spread across his face. He began humming one of the
filthier marching songs. It concerned the business that seems to be
on the minds of most men most of the time.
I hummed along and got everybody started moving.
Foul-smelling smoke from roasted books filled the cavern. It
seemed even stronger in the stairwell. Some of it drifted
downward.
Kina was not yet aware, I was sure. She would have done
something if she had known. But she would not remain ignorant
forever.
I hoped we could get ourselves well on the road before she
recovered enough to assimulate the truth. Her dreams were deadly
enough.