Ozark Trilogy 1: Twelve Fair Kingdoms (7 page)

“And why am I stupid, Granny?” demanded Zoe, and good for
her!

“She means,” I said gently, “that the problem is not tipping my hand—the Families that I suspect know who they are already. Traveller; Purdy, Guthrie, and—I’m sorry, Amanda— Parson. The reason for all this folderol is that a Quest must be done in a certain fashion, or it is
not
a symbol. A Quest is
one
thing,
done
under rigid constraints, one step at a time—”

“And plenty of adventures as you go along!” said Granny. “That’s
required!
”

“One step at a time,” I went on, working uphill, “flying our finest Mule, wearing my finest gown ... and so on. Done any other way, it’s not a Quest at all, it’s just the daughter of Brightwater gallivanting around the planet uninvited and unexplained. That would be something quite different, Zoe. Brightwater doing this as a Quest, and doing it to the letter of the rule—that says we mean business, and no mistake about it.”

The early shadows were beginning to stripe the balcony, and the wind was coming up cold. The older children began shooing the younger ones inside, and the Clark daughters passed along the babies in their laps to the staff to be carried in. High time, too, to
my
mind.

“I see,” Zoe said, rubbing her arms and drawing a shawl around her shoulders from the back of her chair “Yes, that’s clear.”

Nathan Terfelix pulled at his beard—which I would have enjoyed pulling myself—and poured one half-cup of coffee all around to finish off the pot.

“What do
you
think, Responsible of Brightwater?” he asked; and there was no banter in his voice. “I take no insult on the part of my wife—the Parsons have never shown sign of love for the Confederation, and your logic can’t be faulted. Nor is she responsible for her family’s doings on the other side of Arkansaw, if doings there be. But what do you think of the chances for this Jubilee?”

“Fair to middling,” I said. “Provided I do this right.”

“I don’t see it,” said Sharon of Clark. “The Jubilee is a celebration, a giant party. It’s a lot of trouble for Castle Brightwater; but if they’re willing, why should anybody else care?”

I looked at Granny Golightly and waited for a remark about the girl’s stupidity, but apparently she didn’t think twelve was old enough yet to demand the attentions of her tongue. She glared at me, but she held her peace.

“The Travellers,” I told the child, “the Purdys, the Guthries, the Parsons ... all of them want the Confederation set back to meeting one day a year like it once did, pure play-acting with no muscle to it. And each Castle absolutely to its own self the rest of the time. Every meeting, Sharon of Clark, the Travellers move to go back to that one day a year, the Parsons second that, it goes to a vote, and it goes down seven to five or eight to four depending.
Every
meeting ... that’s the first thing happens after the Opening Prayer. The Jubilee, now, may look like a giant party, but it means a kind of
formalizing
of the Confederation that’s never been done yet. Those Families would like to see it fail, like to see the other Families do as Castle Smith has done here—send letters around politely regretting that due to some ‘crisis’ they could not after all attend the Jubilee. You see that?”

Sharon of Clark drew her brows together and sighed. “Well, it makes no sense atall,” she said crossly. “Don’t they know anything? Don’t they know that if it wasn’t for the Confederation we’d have
anarchism?
”

“Anarchy, child,” said her father “The word’s
anarchy
.”

“Well,
that
, then! Don’t they even care?”

She was positively abristle with outrage, and I gave the Granny credit for that; Sharon of Clark had been properly taught. I doubt she knew anarchy from a fishkettle, but she’d learned it for a word to shudder at, and that was all that was likely to be required of her.

“Perhaps they don’t care, Sharon,” I said carefully. “And then perhaps they only don’t understand. If we knew the truth of it, might could be we’d be able to change their minds on the subject.”

Amanda of Parson said nothing, there being little she
could
say, and I paid her the courtesy of not questioning her on her own sympathies, while her child nodded solemnly. Amanda had been a Clark by marriage now over forty years; it was not likely that she still held to her Family’s prejudices. Even if she did, certainly she would not be involved in sabotage coming from that quarter. A woman
actively
disloyal to her husband’s house would go back to her own, as a matter of honor; she would not live as his wife and work against him.

“Speak openly, Responsible of Brightwater” said Granny Golightly then, “and look in my eyes when you speak. Do you suspect treason here?”

I looked her eye to beady eye, and I spoke flat out. “For sure and for certain, Granny Golightly, I do
not
. Nor, till I had this scrap of paper from Castle Smith, did I suspect it on all of Oklahomah. It was my idea that I’d stop quickly at each of the three Castles here, where I knew the loyalty to the Confederation wasn’t in question, and so doing gain maybe a little extra time to spend in other places.”

“She speaks the truth,” said the Granny, showing an amount of overconfidence that didn’t specially surprise me. “And
I
will speak the truth, returning her the favor and then we can all get inside out of this blasted wind and get
comfortable
.”

She leaned forward and tapped her skinny fingers together as she steepled them, peering at me over the steeple. “There’s no trouble at Castle Smith,” she said, “but not your treason, either. No one at Smith’s doing
magic
as shouldn’t be doing it, or for evil ends.”

“I wonder,” I said.

“I’m
telling
you,” she snapped, “and I know of what I speak. You can cease wondering. I am the Granny of this Castle, and the senior Granny of the five that share the housekeeping of Oklahomah among us, and I
tell
you, Uppity—
fourteen
, aren’t you! What an age for wisdom!—I tell you there’s no need to set your stubborn foot in Castle Smith. It’s as Nathan Terfelix says; they’re stiff-necked and you’ve insulted them, and they haven’t the sense to see what you’re doing, any more than Sharon there did, or the babies.”

“Not going would save me time,” I hazarded.

“Don’t go, then,” she said, and stood up with more creakings and poppings than an old attic floor in cold weather. “Who’s there to suspect? Granny Gableframe, her that was a Brightwater by birth, and a McDaniels by marriage forty-seven years? Can you see her allowing such goings-on? And there’s whatsisname ... Delldon Mallard Smith the 2
^nd
, and twice is enough if you ask me, no more gumption to him than a nursing baby for all he thinks himself a power in the land. And his three brothers, each of them as much a bully as he is, but scared of him, more fools them ... and all their poor burdened wives, doing their best to clean up after their worthless menfolk ... “

“Granny Golightly,” I said quickly, “I think I follow you.”

“
That
one,” she said, shaking her finger under my nose and not a bit slowed down, “that Delldon Mallard, now, he is just
stupid
enough to set himself up proud and claim he should have been made an exception of, though he knows very well you skip a station on a Quest and you risk the whole thing. He was a stupid little boy, he was a stupid young man, and he’s growing stupider with every passing year. I can just
see
him thinking himself fit to be an
exception
and sitting around his supper table bragging that he’s shown Brightwater a thing or two! But he’s a pool; pitiful, pathetic, puny fool. He couldn’t sour milk any way but spitting in it.”

Whew! She was outspoken. Too outspoken. There were still staff near us, and what their family allegiance might be was unknown to me. And children, who are not always good at guarding their tongues.

“Want
me
to hush,” she said, her mouth twitching, “you pass the Smiths by. Or I’ll say the rest, to convince you—and I know a passel more, young woman.”

I was sure she did, and it was clear that she was prepared to lay it all before us, and the devil take the consequences.

“Granny Golightly,” I said, “I’ll make a bargain with you, if you’ll hush now.”

“State it!”

“You spread the word for me,” I said, “with a suitable story ... some
good
reason why I did not go to Castle Smith. You know the conditions on a Quest—mere refusal of admittance to a location is no excuse. I need a plague, or a dragon, or a bomb, or whatever you like, I leave it to you. But something that will be sufficient to make by-passing that Castle
not
a spoiling of my Quest! Something clearly and wholly beyond my control, you understand me?”

“I do,” she said. “And I’ll see to it.”

“Your word on it? And nobody else harmed, mind!”

“My word, given already,” she said impatiently, “and done as it should be. I’ll spread the story and it will be ample, and no edges lopping over. My promise on it, Responsible of Brightwater!”

I stood up then, too, and it was like a congregation following the choir; they all followed the Granny and me and stood along with us, and the servingmaids moved in to clear away the tablestuff.

“Then I’ll stay the night here, if you’ll have me for supper; too,” I said, “and then go on sometime tomorrow to Castle Airy. The matter of Castle Smith I’ll leave to Granny Golightly, with my thanks.”

“Make it good, Granny,” said Una—the first time she’d spoken all that time except to chide or cosset a child.

“Never you mind,” said the old woman. “I’ve been a Granny a very long time now, I know my doings.”

Maybe.

Since she would cover my tracks for me, it made no difference if the guilty one was at Castle Smith; as had been plainly stated, I had not even needed to leave home to find out who that was. But the Smiths now ... I’d seen Delldon Mallard Smith at meetings, and for sure had always found him a pompous bore, with an “uh ... uh ... uh ... “ for every other word out of his mouth. But I didn’t know there was dry rot in his brain, which was how the Granny made it sound, and it was of course a credit to the Smith women that I didn’t. If the men at the Castle were as foolish as Granny Golightly had said them to be, plain out and aloud in front of one and all, then there might be one or more of them fool enough to be mixed up in this somewhere, or to prove a weak link at an inconvenient moment.

It didn’t matter; I decided. I felt quite confident about Granny Golightly’s powers of invention. By the time I landed Sterling at Castle Airy some truly wondrous tale would have spread from one end of Ozark to the other to explain why I had not favored Castle Smith with a visit, and that was all that was of any present importance. The rest of it could wait rill a later time.

I followed them into the Castle, looking forward to my room and a rest and a proper bathroom, and as a show of solidarity I scooped up a random baby from a low bench in the hall under a round window.

When in Clark ...

CASTLE CLARK DID very well by me; a small formal supper for twenty-four interesting couples, and the young man provided for me able to discuss several other subjects besides Mules and the weather and then a truly impressive breakfast on the Castle balcony with what appeared to be half the county invited, and both a Taleteller and a Ballad Singer laid on. I left happy; dulcimerless, but mighty well fed, and my traveling costume fresh from the attentions of Granny Golightly herself—who I’d wager had not bothered to wash or press it but confined her “work” to a Housekeeping Spell—and I went over the next step in my head as Sterling and I headed out.

Castle Airy sat at the southernmost tip of Oklahomah; like Castle Clark it overlooked the sea, but there was a great difference between the tender hills of Kingdom Clark’s seacoast and the hulking sheer cliffs that Castle Airy sat on. Their lands
had
no beaches; you pulled a boat up into the sucking caves that pitted the lower borders of the looming seacliffs at your own peril. Between the borders of dark and the lands paced off by Daniel Cantrell Airy the 9
^th
and his five sons in 2127 lay a broad expanse of Wilderness. Technically speaking, it was at least a three-day flight from Castle to Castle, and considering the time involved it was going to be a piece of luck for me that I could by-pass the visit to Castle Smith after all.

I had no intention
what
soever of spending three full days—much less four—in the air. According to the maps there was an isolated stretch of thick forest roughly mid-Wilderness; once I got beyond the area where people were likely to be around, I intended to SNAP straight to that spot and spend two of my days in a pleasant contemplation of the Wilderness, some long naps that I was badly in need of, and catching up an account book I had dutifully brought with me having to do with trade in supplies for magic and a good two months out of date. I could then fly in on the third day and join the Airys for supper with all as it ought to of been.

Nor need I stay at Castle Airy long; they were loyal there. They were as romantic ... quaint, to put it frankly ... in their loyalty to the Confederation as the Travellers were in their resistance to it. Held a Confederation Day every blessed year on December 12, with speeches and bands and bunting and whatnot, the only one of the Kingdoms to have such an innovation. Stamped the Confederation Seal all over everything, and flew its flag beside the flags of Airy and Ozark at the Castle gate. Any day now I expected them to begin opening souvenir stands or publishing a Confederation
Gazette
.