Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 05 (19 page)

 
          
“You’re
not my friends," Myrrh said.

 
          
“But
we want to be," Tarrah near about begged her. “Talk to us, at least. Tell
us what you do."

 
          
That
softened Myrrh down a tad. At least she did tell about herself, about how she
lived in Larrowby, how she helped her daddy in his store there. Alka listened
and asked some questions. Tarrah seemed like she pure down loved to hear about
Larrowby and the store.

 
          
“You
make it sound nice, Myrrh,” she said. “Your job sounds like a good
one—interesting. You have people to talk to all day long in that store. I’ll
bet that nice men come around to shop with you, don’t they?”

 
          
“Well,
yes,” Myrrh replied her. “And the nicest is Tombs McDonald.” It was a friendly
thing for her to name him to Tarrah.

 
          
I
joined in and told them the tale of Tombs’s life, how he’d been found on top of
a tombstone and got his name from that. I told how he’d gladly helped me and
tended me when I was bad off and needed help the worst way, and how in the days
we’d been together we’d come to count on one another as friends.

 
          
“That’s
good to hear,” said Alka when I’d done. “Count on us as your friends, Myrrh.”

 
          
“What
kind of friends could you be?” Myrrh inquired her, but not so fierce about it
now.

 
          
They
told her their own life stories as I’ve already told you all, Alka first and
Tarrah second. They went on to talk about Ruel Harpe and what he could do air
time he wanted, and pointed out his window that could show you what he might
choose to show you. Myrrh looked toward that window, and it was clouded and
gloomy as a stormy day.

 
          
“I
don’t see aught in it,” she said.

 
          
“I
tried to see in it a while ago,” said Alka. “But I don’t really know the right
words.”

 
          
“I
know the right words,” I said. “I’ve heard Harpe say them time after time, and
I’ve got them in my mind.”

 
          
Alka
looked on me, with hope in her eyes behind her glasses. “Could you do that,
John? Show us something?”

 
          
“Show
us the store Myrrh works in,” said Tarrah.

 
          
“I’ll
see what I can do,” I agreed them. “Myrrh, keep that store in your mind while 1
try.”

 
          
They
all turned their heads to look on the window. I said what Td learnt from Harpe:

 
          
“Fetegan . . . Gaghagan . . . Beigan . . .
Deigan . . . Usagan ...”

           
We kept a-looking, all of us, but
naught happened. There was just a gloomy foggy window in the wall yonder.

 
          
“I
didn't make it work,” I said, though I didn't need to say that.

 
          
“He
uses that amulet of his,” said Alka. “He always holds it when he brings a scene
into that window for us.”

 
          
“He
uses his amulet for everything,” Tarrah added on. “Uses it in all he does.”

 
          
“Amulet?”
said Myrrh.

 
          
“That
thing he wears on a chain around his neck,” said Alka. “It looks like a T.”

 
          
“Is
it magic?” Myrrh asked. “Where did it come from?”

 
          
“Yes,”
said Alka, “
it’s
magic—strong magic. Where it first
came from he never told me, but once it belonged to Ruel Harpe's ancestor,
Micajah—Big Harpe, the outlaw. He had a woman who kept the thing when Big Harpe
died, and passed it on to their son, and it came down to present times as an
heirloom.” A-thinking about that, she bit her lip.
“A black
arts heirloom.”

 
          
“Whatair
that thing may be,” said Myrrh, “he won’t be able to use it to make me love
where he wants me to love.” She looked at me, blue-eyed. “John,” she said,
“heaps of women could love you. You’re such a good man.”

 
          
“Yes,”
Tarrah said, not a-speaking to us, maybe just only to herself.

 
          
“You
know my feelings about Tombs,” Myrrh went on. “You tell me
that's
the way he feels about me.”

 
          
“I’ve
sworn to you that you and Tombs will meet again,” I reminded her.

 
          
“And
if you swear it, I feel purely certain that it will happen,” she said.

 
          
Just
then, in came Harpe to sit down at the table with us. He beamed all round, he
looked to be in a good humor.

 
          
“I’ve
puzzled out a highly troublesome passage in Judas, but it proves to be
invaluable in the structure of his plan for the world,” he said. “Even though
the world Judas knew was only the world of the
Roman Empire
, plainly he deduced—he comprehended—other
lands and other cultures. Well, it was a tiring task. I felt like having a
breather.” He turned his smile on Myrrh. “You seem to have made friends with
Alka and Tarrah, somewhat.”

 
          
“We
think she’s lovely,” said Alka.

 
          
“Wonderful,”
said Tarrah.
“So good to talk to.”

 
          
“I
see,” Harpe nodded.
“And how about you, John?
Is Myrrh
lovely? Wonderful?”

 
          
“She’s
both those things,” I replied him, “but I tell you again, you’ve gone about
this thing all wrong. Myrrh loves another man, with all her heart.”

 
          
“Indeed?”
he said. “Who might that be?”

 
          
“Nair
you mind who, 1 don’t want you a-messing him up, too.”

 
          
He
frowned then, a deep line betwixt his brows. “You don’t seem to realize that
what I say goes on
Cry
Mountain
.”

 
          
“You’re
dead right about that,” I said. “I sure enough don’t realize that, I don’t
realize it a hooter.”

 
          
“You’ll
just have to be taken in hand,” he said to me. “You’ll have to be taught
things, shown true values. But now,” and he stretched out his thick arms,
“time’s gone along until we ought to have some supper. Would you like to choose
our supper, Alka?”

 
          
Alka
went to the rope and pulled, and brought us back a tray with saucers and spoons
on it, and gave them round. “Fruit soup” she called what was in the saucers.

 
          
I
tucked into mine, and I relished it. It wasn’t my notion of soup, it was cold
and it was made of cherries with the seeds out. I figured there was cinnamon in
it, and the juice of lemons.

 
          
“This
is delicious,” said Harpe, spoon in hand. “You aren’t eating yours, Myrrh.”

 
          
“I
won’t eat aught here,” she half-snapped at him.

 
          
“Then
you’re missing a treat,” Harpe said. “Look, John’s eating his. Do you like it,
John?”

 
          
“Yes,”
I replied him. “I like it a right much.”

 
          
“John’s
full of ungrateful, rebellious feelings toward me, but he doesn’t refuse to
eat,” said Harpe to Myrrh, who said nair a word back.

 
          
After
the fruit soup, Alka went back to the rope and fetched us steaks. They were big
steaks, about the size of a shoe sole, but another sight better eating. Mine
was how I liked it, steamy brown outside and rare red inside. It was so thick I
near about had to stand up to cut it, but it was so tender it next to melted in
my mouth. I ate all of mine, and Harpe finished his, and Alka and Tarrah did
away with the most part of theirs. We had glasses of red wine, bright as
rubies, along with the food. Myrrh just sat and looked at her plate, and didn’t
touch it or either the wine.

 
          
Meanwhile,
Harpe talked to us. He was a right good talker. He said that he was near about
done with writing out the English of that Judas book, and that it showed how to
fix this world over into what he thought would be a better world.

 
          
“Myrrh,
you and John are going to help make a golden age for us,” he sort of lectured.
“People can learn from you the proper values of life, the things they've
forgotten that make life good.”

 
          
“Whatair
you want,
Til
not help you do it,” she told him back.
She looked round at us as we finished our steaks. “I won't eat this food or
drink this wine; but could I ask for a glass of water?”

 
          
Tarrah
jumped up, ran off somewhere, and fetched her back what she wanted. The water
was in a pretty silver cup. Harpe watched Myrrh as she drank.

 
          
“That's
a step in the right direction,” he said when she'd emptied the cup. “Tomorrow,
at breakfast time, you may feel more like eating. But right now, back to my
work. You may stay here, and I'll bring some entertainment for you.”

 
          
He
looked toward the window and grabbed hold of his T-amulet and spoke his string
of words. The window cleared, and voices sounded and figures moved in it.

 
          
“I
tapped into a theater, with a film you may enjoy,” he said, and went off away
to where he was a-working.

 
          
We
others sat and watched the show he'd fetched into the window. There were men in
bright armor, and horses, and trumpet music a-blowing, and a lady with long
black hair and pretty white shoulders that rose bare above her dress. The show
was a-telling how one or other of two men in armor would have that lady. We
watched, for it had something a-doing all the time. The two men fought with
long shiny swords and at last one killed the other, and the bare-shouldered
lady came and kissed the winner. I watched it through, and Tarrah watched it
through, and Myrrh didn't seem to mind a-watching. Alka sniffed and said it was
unconvincing.

 
          
Then
in came Harpe again. He said some words that stopped the show in the window.
His jug of blockade was on the table, and he poured himself a slug and drank
it. He stood over us where we sat there. I thought he looked tired round his
eyes.

           
“I’m almost done with what has
turned out to be a formidable task,” he said. “I may be within short minutes of
finishing the translation. Then, everyone everywhere can look for masterpieces
of wonder.”

 
          
He
fixed his eyes on me, and they burnt like torches of light- wood. “You and I
will get up early tomorrow, John. I want to talk to you alone before breakfast.
I have a few home truths to say to you. So why don't we all turn in fairly
early?”

 
          
It
was like a father a-giving orders for his children to go to bed. Nobody replied
him so much as a word. I got up and went past the curtain and down the hallway
to my room at the end. I washed my face and lay down on the bed without so much
as a-taking off boots.

 
          
Truths
to tell me, Harpe had said. Home truths—more likely a pack of damned lies,
meant to scare me at last, into a-doing whatair he wanted from me. That’s what
I might
could
expect. And it would be time for me to
tell him a truth myself, make it plain 1 wasn’t to be ruled by his magic.

 
          
I
thought my best of how to get that done, and finally I did come up with an idea
of what I could possibly say and do.

 
          
But
I’d better have me some rest before morning, and I relaxed my bones all over
and finally I made myself go to sleep.