Chapter 4 The Summer Stars
At dusk of the next day Simone lay half asleep on a bed of tall grass, far to the south of Lucilla. The Ulrigs, she knew, had been up and about hours ago, but she was no wolf-soldier to make great exertions on little sleep. After the korfy had run away, she had gone on with the Ulrigs to ford a river and to march many miles through the night. They had begun this present rest at dawn, and the long July day had proved just enough for her to recover her strength.
She was thirsty now, and likely to remain so, for they were conserving water. She needed to brush her teeth, but how? She felt no reason to get up until another night’s march would begin. At least the walking did not daunt her: she had been on her school’s track team.
Why go on at all? She had set out to get herself and Clay away from her mother, and so draw the witches after them. Presumably, they had done that, or at least she tried to believe so. Beyond that, she had nothing but some half remembered instructions from Raspberry, mostly having to do with Clay. Something about pitying the people here and —and what? But the really important thing, so Snag said, was that she be crowned Empress so she could get Clay back. Fat chance. At age eighteen Simone had already had plenty of time to observe the wide distance between expectations and fulfillments. Chances were that no one would accept her antiquated claim to the rule of a continent, or that if they did, she would be too late to save Clay. As for preventing a war, as Raspberry had intended—well, that seemed out of the question with Clay lost. Add it to the list of hopeless tasks. Everything was beyond her power to mend. She could not even be sure that the Magi had not gotten to her mother.
Oh, the fairy tale lure of another world! What a laugh. All she had experienced of the Fold so far had been of a piece with her disappointing life back in Indiana; only heightened in the sense that her responsibility was far greater and her ultimate failure more sure. Again and again she imagined herself as having reached for Clay as he had screamed. She saw herself grabbing him, pulling him back onto the korfy’s back. But she had lost both Clay and herself. It was too lonely and horrible to bear.
Pretending to sleep, Simone listened to the Ulrigs approaching and heard them fling themselves down in the grass.
“Not a bad story,” said Snart, “but why were you away living with the humans for so long—a year and a half by your account—and in such an inhospitable place as Lucilla?”
Snag grunted approval of this question. To Simone’s surprise, a strange voice answered, a voice higher pitched than the Ulrigs’ but just as guttural and inhuman.
“Well, fellows, I like having a little fun with my pack, and when pups get together, sometimes things get out of hand. Eighteen months ago some of our Looper nobility decided to make an example of a few of us pups. I say nothing against our King Korazagel, but his counselors were too harsh. Some were even urging that loyal young Loopers should lose paws.”
“So, Roper,” Snag put in, “the long and the short of it is that you’re a wanted criminal among your own folk.”
“Unless cooler heads have prevailed!” the Looper went on cheerily. “Who knows but that the king has already decided to pardon me?”
“What did you do?” Snag asked.
“Well, you understand that I was just a follower? Just out on a lark, not a serious thought in my head. Some of the others took it into their heads to see the inside of the Old Palace at Plibaseel, so we all scampered over there that night and found not a guard or an official anywhere. We soon found a way into the old place—I should say that a rotten old door like that should be replaced if anyone seriously wants to keep out the curious and the souvenir hunter.”
“Souvenir,” Snart put in drily. “Why did I know that word was about to be used?”
Roper paused. “You can’t think what a lot of gold plate and jewelry had been left there for ages, probably forgotten by everybody, certainly useless to anyone, until we discovered it.”
“Discovered,” Snart echoed.
“Well, it was a national shame. But we left most of it just where it was and not a paw print on ’em. Just a few of the—”
“That’s enough,” Snag said. “It’s clear now why you stayed in Lucilla as long as you did. It took this long for you to spend your share of the loot, which was as much as you could carry off, I’ll bet.”
“Not a stater!” Looper insisted. “I left the Forest empty pawed. You see, some hysterical old drooler of a guard came late to his post and yipped up a lot of other folk till we all had to foot for it. It’s no use reasoning with a mob, not when things look bad for you. And I dumped what I happened to be holding, so as to run lighter. I hid out for a few days afterwards, and that’s when I found out that the government was taking our little escapade absurdly seriously. So I took a trip to Lucilla to give my folk a chance to see what had actually happened; I mean, that it was just high spirits. You can see that?”
“Don’t bring me into it,” growled Snag. “The question is: why are you going back now?”
“And why do you want to go with us?” added Snart.
“Because I know the river,” Roper said, “the Kalos that flows from the Forest Obscure. You need a guide in the places you’re going to. You can’t afford any mistakes on the Black Vulture’s borders.”
“You’re avoiding our questions,” Snag said sternly. “What do you want from us?”
“Not money!” Roper said. “I won’t charge you, no, but when the time comes, all I ask is a word. If you two noble ones would just witness Rum’s own truth that you’ve seen with your own eyes: that I’ve helped you save the Empress here.”
“The who?” Snag snapped in a low voice. “Now, listen, puppy, if you’ve heard in Lucilla that she might be a Lila-me, well that proves nothing. She came from the Old World, I won’t conceal that, but whether she’s really a Lila-me I leave up to the Fijats with their mile-long genealogies. Frankly, I doubt that the Fijats really know.”
Roper digested this. “But the Lady herself said so.”
“And perhaps she tells the truth,” put in Snart. “If she does, then she outranks your Looper King and can pardon you. But the point is, we don’t say she’s the Empress until the right time comes. Her right time may not be your right time. From now on, if we meet anybody, she’s to be called Lady only, unless you want your throat cut.”
Roper did not speak for some time. “You want to get her back to your mountains, don’t you?” he said. “But if my King Korazagel knows she’s the Empress, he’ll take her away from you. That’s all politics. Well, I can play politics. I’ll just guide you until you’re past the dangerous areas, because, you know, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to—to the—”
Clang! A flurry of fighting brought Simone to a sitting position instantly. The Looper and the Ulrigs were scuffling. In seconds Roper was on his back with Snag over him, the wolf captain’s sword to his neck. Snart was picking up Roper’s sword, which had been knocked to the ground as quickly as it was drawn.
“What? What’s going on?” Simone asked in her best actor’s voice.
Roper had been trying to run off and had unwisely drawn his sword as he leaped up. Now he was to serve as guide unwillingly. As the stars began to appear, the four of them began to go farther south. Roper’s arms (or were they forelegs? Simone wondered) were tied with his own belt. Snag shoved him forward.
Because of what she had heard, Simone understood Snag’s plan. He wanted to go all the way to the Middle Range without revealing Simone’s identity to anyone. That way the Ulrigs alone could claim the Empress and control her. Therefore, Roper would guide them but would not be allowed to use Simone to gain a pardon for his thievery. What would happen to the Looper in the end? For that matter, what would happen to her?
As they walked, Simone settled further into a confused and miserable depression. She was lost, lost. No friends, no hope. She tried to get Snart to tell her something about the lan
ds that lay ahead, but he put her off politely, explaining that he had never been in the Forest Obscure. She asked about Clay. What might happen to him? Were Magi in this part of the Fold, and would they hurt Clay? Snart claimed to know nothing.
Finally, as the night slowly passed and the stars rolled by above, she allowed Snart to teach her the constellations. One by one, she learned them: Cygnus the Swan, Aquila the Eagle, Queen Cassiopeia on her throne, the Bears great and small, the Herdsman—shaped like an ice cream cone and with Arcturus burning in its midst; the Dragon, and the Lion, and the winged horse Pegasus. Still there were more to learn. The plain about them was so dark and featureless and the sky so vivid and limitless that Simone felt lost again—lost in the cool, gem sprinkled universe.
Dawn began to show and still they journeyed on, tired and thirsty. They began to see, now and then, gazelle like animals moving in the distance. Finally they halted by a lone, stunted tree that looked half dead.
The ache of fear and hopelessness had not left Simone the whole night, and it kept her from sleeping at first, more than did the sunlight, the flies, and her thirst. But when she did begin to doze, she saw stars, stars, stars; too many stars for anyone to know or to manage. She would never learn them all. What would become of the stars?
Evening was now her morning, hot and bright and dry. The Sarrs were grumbling among themselves. She drank from Snart’s water bag, which was nearly empty. Roper said that they would reach the Kalos before morning, but that well before that they might cross one of the little prairie streams that fed it. They had finished the last of the food, yet water began to be the only thing that mattered. Snag decided to begin their march while it was still light.
The ache was still there, a depression so deep that Simone almost wept. At home she would have written a poem or gone to see Sarah. Anything. But she would never see Sarah or Clay or her mother again; that was becoming dreadfully clear. As for poetry, she had always written it in Kreenspam, and often it had lightened her mood. She began to compose in her head.
Ka bafel tulalash, shar, gre,
Kortal tal leban, brumman.
Fetash luj kelbelal mis be?
Ka tulsen pin—
(The stars are wandering, cold and dry,
With no one to care or summon.
Who knows why they were thrown so high?
Lost children of—)
Of whom? Ulrumman? Who was he? She had used the name in her poetry before but had always been unsure of herself. Now she turned to Snart.
“Who is Ulrumman?”
She had not known him to hesitate so long. “Surely, Lady, you know better than I.”
“Is he like Thoz?” she asked, switching to the Gellene word for God. Not that identifying him as God would do her much good since she was ignorant of the Bible.
“He is—Ulrumman, that’s all. The Creator. He who called and protects you, Lady.”
“He called Clay, too,” she snapped. “Why didn’t he protect him?”
Snart was not up to that sort of question. He shut up tight, and she could get no more out of him.
An hour went by and the stars appeared again. Simone trudged along with the same thirst, and much worse, the same dread; but she began to be aware of something different this night. She was nervous, to begin with, almost afraid. She wanted to run away from something, but what? She sorted through her fears: loss of family, suffering, loneliness, exile, death.... No, it wasn’t any of those. This fear was of a different kind. Someone was nearby. The open sky was full of Him. The stars moved at His command. He was moving them!—slowly rolling the bejeweled sheet of them from horizon to horizon, or rather He was turning the earth beneath them. And he gave life to every living thing.
Run, run! But where? She glanced back at Snart, forward to Snag and Roper. They did not seem to notice that the One was pulsing through everything they saw and touched, was in their veins and bones! He was behind everything, and yet He was none of these things. Pure Spirit.
“Ulrumman, is that you?” she whispered in English. “What do you want with me?”
When the answer came, Simone did not break stride. Snart saw nothing different about her. Simone herself heard nothing and saw nothing. She merely thought to herself, “I’m not really an Empress (royal blood is hogwash), but He regards me as if I were one. I’m no good, but I’m His, and He protects His own. Also, I know that Clay is all right and Mom is all right. What’s more, I feel wonderful.”
Wonderful! She was swimming in Him, alive, unbedeviled. He had asked to come in, knowing what her answer would be. In her desperation, she had admitted Him, given up her miserable soul to Him, and found Him to be beloved and revered beyond all else. She was not alone.
The quarreling started after dawn. Snag was angry because Roper had proved unable to bring them to the river. He accused the Looper of trying to kill them, which Roper pointed out was ridiculous, since without water he would die with them. Snart joined in with harsh words for the Looper.
Finally, the only thing the three could agree on was that they would have to try to last out another withering day of rest, and travel again when night came. To show themselves in daylight, Roper told them, would be to invite the attention of the spy-creatures of the Vulture, whose lands were now so near. Then, when darkness came, evil beasts would be sent to hunt them.
After the Sarrs had decided not to move, they looked around to find Simone gone from them. There she was, far off to the southwest and walking away. She would not return even when they shouted, but only waved to them to follow, turned her back, and went on. There was nothing to do but go after her. When they at last caught up, she would not pause, not even when they explained the danger.
“But Lady,” Snag said, “you must allow me to make such decisions as this. How can I get you safely to the mountains if you behave recklessly?”
She strode on without turning her head. “If I’m your Empress,” she said placidly, “then follow me. Or do you think I might be a fraud?”
“Impossible, your Eminence,” Snag lied.
“Follow then.”
Hours passed, and the parched, weary travelers held on across the grasslands. The Sarrs began to smell water. At about three o’clock Simone, who went first, stumbled into a tiny creek covered with grass. They drank and went on, following the creek to a larger one and so, at the end of the day, down to the tree covered banks of the smoothly flowing Kalos.