"Weapon, isn't it?" Jac said as Kian put it in his scabbard. "Any good?"
"No. At least I don't think it is. I tried it on the bearver. First time."
"May I see it?"
Kian drew the weapon and handed it to him butt-first. Jac took it, reversed it, and looked into the bell. "No bow?"
"It's not a crossbow."
"So I see. It's something of Mouvar's, I'll bet."
"It is."
"And it doesn't work?"
"Didn't for me."
"Hold on to it. Could be valuable. You ready to ride? Really ride?"
Kian climbed up and got a good grip on the saddle. "I am now."
Jac dug his heels into Betts' sides. "Get, Betts!" They rode like the wind through forested, mountainous country that would have been near dragon country had Hud been Rud. They rode past towering cliffs and stunted trees for what seemed miles, then onto a side path that took them through brambles and brush. After numerous slaps from branches and scratches from vines they were in bleak, semi-desert country known in the world of silver serpents as the Barrens. To Kian, contemplating the bleakness, the Sadlands seemed a much better name.
CHAPTER 4
Relative Pain
KELVIN WASN'T AT ALL happy about having to leave Heln and Jon and his friends the Crumbs, but he was even less happy about St. Helens' offer to accompany him. He thought around it all day long while they visited and caught up on family matters that neither had learned before. There was just no way out of it, he concluded. Every time he attempted to say that it was his responsibility and his alone, St. Helens was certain to turn it about.
"Yes, yes, I agree, Hackleberry! Very important that we get your father here if he lives. He can train the troops and make the plans better'n me. Not that you're not round-eared, of course. But then remember, so are St. Helens and your old man." It was evident that St. Helens had pretty well assessed Kelvin's incapacity as a leader and was moving to fill the void. That was a significant part of what bothered him.
Kelvin tried to explain it reasonably. "I really don't know about Aratex yet. I feel Rud shouldn't interfere unless we're urged to by Aratex's people. Beside King Rufurt—"
"Rufurt, that old fraud!"
"He's a good man. A good king."
"Hmpth. Good for nothing, if you ask me. Who let the bitch-queen take over? Who sat around while your father—no offense, lad—bedded her and made a son?"
"By then the king was in the dungeon, and—"
"And your old man was weak. He wasn't like that in the old days! Or maybe her old man, Zatanas, cast a few spells. A little tampering with the wine, and any man…" He faded out, evidently understanding that kind of temptation all too well.
"It could have been," Kelvin agreed, a bit jealous that he had no basis to understand the temptation. "Zatanas was a powerful magician."
"Destroyed by a boy! No offense, lad, but that's what you were. So now, a few months later, you're a man, or think you are. Doesn't matter. The point is, you're right. That old man of yours was my commander, and from what I hear, he's come to his senses. We need him for Aratex and for what comes after."
"I really don't know yet." If only he had some of that competence and certainty his father must have had!
"Of course you don't! How could you? Roundear of Prophecy or not, you're still the boy."
"Mr. Reilly," Heln put in.
"St. Helens, lass. It's St. Helens or Father."
Heln reddened. "I'd rather not call you Father. To me, my father is—"
"Flambeau. Yes, yes, good man. I know how you feel. I don't insist on it, though it is my due. St. Helens will do just fine."
"St. Helens," Heln said with a spot on either cheek that was now intense. "What do you mean by coming here and insulting my husband and his father? We didn't even know you were alive before you knocked on our door. Why should you—"
"Hey, hey! A chip off the old block, hah, Hackleberry? My own daughter, sure enough!" Reaching out a brawny arm, he gave her an obviously unwanted hug, pressing her soft cheek to his rough beard. "Well, I didn't insult them. I'm not insulting the best commander I ever had in the Normerican Army and his son! No, ma'am, not me. Not the old saint! They didn't call me Truthful Reilly for nothing before I tired of it! When I spout off, I spout the truth. Always have and am always gonna."
She was unmollified. "St. Helens, I really think that's enough!"
"Yes, it is, lass. 'Deed it is. Hackleberry, don't you think those red spots on her cheeks are cute? Her mother used to get those. Once when I came home late with a load—potent stuff, that local brew!—she got 'em real fierce. Gave me the tongue-lashing of my life, and I stood there and took it because I had it coming. She made me sleep in the barn that night, and me a big, randy buck in those days who lived mostly for lovemaking and fights."
"Mr.—eh, St. Helens," Kelvin forced himself to say. "We're grateful for your visit, but my wife and I aren't used to, eh, visitors. We've just gotten back from visiting my mother and her parents—her mother and foster father, I mean—the Flambeaus. We've just gotten this house built and the furniture moved in and then Heln checks up on my missing brother—"
"Yes, you told me. Nothing to do but go there and rescue them, I agree. Fools shouldn't have gotten themselves in a mess, but things happen. Me, I want to see that other frame so bad it's tormenting me, but from what I'm told, it will probably be almost the same as here. I'm not sure of that myself. It just could be that other frame is Earth, where your father and I came from."
"It can't be Earth. Heln and I saw."
"Yes, the vision bit. Guys in my army outfit used to inhale an herbal smoke and claim they had visions where they could see all over the earth. Maybe they did, but me, I doubted it."
"That's very interesting, St. Helens, but with dragonberries you don't just see visions, you move away from your body at the speed of thought. You go anywhere you want to, and—"
"Yes, yes, and I'm ready to take your word for it. My old commander's son doesn't lie."
Kelvin tried to control his reaction. Why did that statement make him feel so defensive? "No, sir. He doesn't."
"So when do we go? We've been wasting time talking here when all the time you say the commander's in trouble—in a jailhouse, no less."
"Dungeon. Apparently the dungeon of the local king."
"Then we'd better get moving, hadn't we? You ready to go now? I'm ready if you're ready."
"Now?" Kelvin couldn't believe this was happening. St. Helens was like a force of nature resembling a great wind. "But you've been traveling by foot and the day's far gone. I thought—"
"An early morning start. Most sensible. The commander would approve. Can't fight if you're exhausted. That reminds me: Heln, you got any more of that appleberry pie? And how about some of the local grog before we sleep—a little wine?"
Kelvin gave Heln a look of helplessness, looking over his father-in-law's shoulder. Possibly he could resolve the matter in the morning. Certainly he did not feel that St. Helens was anyone he would wish to have constantly at his side, but how could he convey this without setting off the man's volcanic temper? Subtlety just didn't seem to exist in St. Helens' universe!
"I'll get the wine, eh, Father," he said. The sarcasm was heavy, but he suspected the man would not detect it.
"Fine! Fine, lad. Nothing too expensive, though from what I hear the king settled on you, you can afford it. Take no heed, son. I know the pride you'll take in serving your daddy-in-law the best."
Kelvin left the house for the local wine shop, hoping his formidable irritation wasn't showing. He wasn't sure whether St. Helens really was Heln's father, and wasn't sure whether he would prefer the man as an impostor. An impostor could in due course be unmasked and kicked out! But those round ears made it all too likely that the man was genuine. What a mill-stone!
He reached the shop and made his selection by the nearness of the bottle. He was counting out the rudnas from his coin-bag when he looked up and saw a l
arge man with the point of one ear missing. Mor Crumb, Lester's father and Jon's father-in-law. This was the day for in-laws, he thought, but was still glad to see his old companion-in-arms.
"Kelvin, you rogue!" Crumb exclaimed. "You and the little girl celebrating a Hackleberry-to-be already?"
"Eh, no. Not yet, I'm afraid. May be just as well. Things keep coming up besides those you know about. We have problems."
"Your marriage?" Mor was concerned.
"No, no. Nothing like that." In a moment he was telling Mor about Heln's visiting relative.
"And you're really going into The Flaw with him?" Mor demanded.
"Not if I can help it. But he's a little hard to discourage."
"Tell you what, Kelvin," Mor said, putting a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Lester and I will just sort of casually drop by in the morning. It's a long way to the old palace and that river chamber. Least we can do is tag along. If you want your St. Helens to stay, we'll see that he does. Call it payment for the times you've saved my life and my boy's life."
"If he doesn't talk you into thinking it's a good idea!"
"Huh," Mor said. "That windbag you describe couldn't talk Mor and Lester Crumb into a free fight!"
Kelvin didn't answer. That "windbag" seemed to be having no trouble talking Kelvin himself into anything.
Heln busied herself in the kitchen while St. Helens ate the pie. As she scrubbed away at a pan that had held the pie and didn't really need that much scrubbing, she tried hard to control the temper she knew she had inherited.
That man my father? I can't stand him! I can't stand him!
The center of the pan became mirror-shiny as she scrubbed it too hard with the grit she was using. She could see her face. At the moment she did not like her face: there was too much of St. Helens in it.
The man was twisting Kelvin around his fingers! He really was! St. Helens obviously wanted to use Kelvin for his own plans. Poor Kelvin wouldn't stand up to him because he thought he was doing her, Heln, a favor. Kelvin thought that just because she derived from the man in name and in blood, she was a devoted daughter. Some father! She wished he had never showed up. She wished he were back in Aratex. She wished he were dead.
She froze, appalled, staring into her reflection in the pan. How could she even think such a thing? Yet she knew she did.
In the Hackleberry dining room St. Helens was savoring the last bites of the pie. Appleberries baked in a pie had the tartness and texture of raspberries combined with the flavor and aroma of a Jonathan apple. How the memories of Earth food and drink lingered! He could still recall the smell and taste of fresh brewed coffee and of at least a thousand foods and beverages. Yet there was nothing wrong with local fruits and vegetables and local cooking. True, both he and John Knight had had to teach the baking of pies, but then the local fruit tarts were quite tasty and satisfying. Still, man did not live by dessert alone.
The little girl was angry with him. He could see why. He'd have to work on that, hide the old basic nature and bring out the winning charm. After all, it would be only for a short time, and then he'd be no more charming than he felt like being. Once he had control he'd be in charge, and they would know it as well as he.
"Heln," he said, raising his voice slightly. "Does Kelvin still have the laser the commander gave him? You know, the Earth weapon he used in the war?"
"He has it, St. Helens. His father said to get rid of it, but he held on to it. As long as he has it he doesn't have to worry about any danger he might face."
"Father, I said." She was coming around, maybe.
"Father." Her tone suggested that she'd like to call him something else. His daughter, all right! Poor Kelvin. Pity him if he ever got to be a bad husband. She'd put him in his place right enough.
"He's taking it with him into the other frame?"
"Of course!"
"And the gauntlets—he's taking them also?"
"Certainly."
"That's fine, just fine," St. Helens said. He smiled, thinking how very fine it would be even if the boy didn't come around for him. Not that he wouldn't; he was a smart enough boy. But if need be, St. Helens could take the laser and the gauntlets, and then let old Melbah try to stop him! Just let her try, and he'd fry her and prove to the Aratexians just how vincible the invincible crown actually was. If need be, he knew he could do it all, entirely by himself. If he had the weapons.
Jon finished polishing the last of her throwing stones and dropped it into her ammunition pouch by her sling. She had been fiddling with these preparations since before dawn, and now soon it would be time to go. She turned from the table as Lester strode in, and seeing he was alone, she voiced her thought.
"Les, I think we should talk him out of it."
"What?" Lester was incredulous, as she had known he would be. "Talk Kelvin out of going for his father and his brother?"
"There's also the queen," she said, just as she had planned to. "We can't be certain she's not there alive in that other frame. Would you want her back in Rud?"
"No, but that's ridiculous. The war's over. She ruled only with the help of Zatanas' sorcery. Even if she were to come back here alive, she'd be powerless."
"She's Zatanas' daughter. That could mean something."
"Very little. Now that Kelvin's fulfilled the line of prophecy."
Jon sighed, knowing that what she most wanted to say would be misunderstood. She knew that Kelvin wasn't brave; he was just—just Kelvin. Without her and her sling, and Lester and his father, and the gauntlets and laser—without those he would be just another man.
But since there was no avoiding it, she forced a smile and said what had to be said, even to her husband. "You're right, dear. He's slain dragons and he's won Rud citizens their freedom, and he's saved my life and yours. He's a hero born and there's never been his equal in all of history. Kelvin, my brother, is the Roundear of Prophecy."
But she knew how much that hero needed proper buttressing. Prophecy was fine, but it took little note of human weakness.
CHAPTER 5
New Familiar Faces
THE OUTLAW'S CAMP WAS nothing more than a small collection of tents, several of them ragged and flapping with great holes. The land was as barren as most desert, but a few prickly plants of assorted sizes grew, and a fence of sorts had been made around the camp by dragging in some of the larger specimens and forming them into a line. There was no material here for proper shacks of the type used in the mountains.
A man with a broad chest came forth to meet them. He was a startling sight. He was the very image of the opposition leader in Rud who had supported Kelvin: Morton Crumb. Except for his whole, round ears.
"This is Matthew Biscuit," Jac said, making the introduction. "Matt, this is Kian Knight from a far and distant land." Jac dropped off the horse and assisted Lonny down; Kian dropped down by himself.
"This'un's Lonny Burk from Fairview. She was going to be the sacrifice. Between us, Kian and I slew a really big serpent. You should have seen him fight!"
"Silver?" Matt asked, interested.
"What else? Of course silver. But far too big. We'd need a dozen good horses just to drag it here. Besides, you know the flopears will be out."
"No doubt." Matt frowned. "What's he doing here?" He jerked his thumb to indicate Kian.
"What are you doing here, lad?" Jac demanded.
Kian took a deep breath. "My father and mother came to this frame from a world almost like it. We haven't any silver serpents, but we have golden dragons there."
"Dragons?" Biscuit sounded offended. "Them's legendary beasts! Story-book stuff."
"So are serpents big enough to swallow war-horses. Back home, I mean. In the frame I come from."
"Frame? What're you talking about?"
Kian swallowed. "If you don't know—you may think I'm making this up. There are worlds made up of tiny specks my father calls atoms, and much space between these atoms, just as there is between stars. Most everything is space, considered this way.
So worlds and universes lie side by side, interpenetrating, sometimes overlapping, touching slightly here and there. Each universe, each world connecting in adjoining universes, only a little different from each other. Our world's people have pointed ears, while another world's people have round ears. One world has silver serpents, while another has golden dragons."
"Bosh! Superstitious junk!" Matt declared. He seemed quite angry. "The rulers want us to believe that nonsense so's they can keep us repressed."
"But it's so! I know it is, because my father originated on a world where they have horseless carriages and moving pictures and talking boxes and all sorts of strange things. Then there's the alien Mouvar, who left a chamber from which roundears could travel to other worlds. Mouvar the Magnificent, we called him. He lived long, long before my time, and he left my home frame after a battle with a local sorcerer. The sorcerer was later destroyed by my brother."
"By your brother?" Matt sounded even more skeptical.
"Yes. The roundear Mouvar predicted would, well, he predicted a lot for him in my home frame. He slew dragons in his youth, as the prophecy says, and he rid his country, Rud, of its sore—a tyrannous government." He did not think it necessary to add that for all purposes his own mother had been that government.
"It sounds as if you had very much the same setup as here," Jac said. "We too have a tyranny. Our leader, King Rowforth, has to be overthrown someday. You don't suppose you could give us some tips?"
"I'm afraid not. I was—" Kian hesitated, knowing that he must not say that he had been on the wrong side. "Not really part of it. My brother could help you, or my father, if we can find him."
"You think he's here? In our world?"
"I hope so. I read the instructions carefully, and I know the setting on the machine hasn't been changed for centuries. I feel this is where my parents went. Certainly this must be where Mouvar went. You have legends about him?"