Sunshaker's War (25 page)

“Well, folks,” David announced, “we're here.”

Calvin met them at the back door and handed David a frosted mug full of some frothy dark liquid. David took it, sniffed, it tentatively, and took a sip—and almost gagged at the bitter taste.

“What's the matter, Dave? Can't abide your native firewater?”

“Tastes like burned horse piss!” David sputtered back. “What
is
it, anyway?”

“Guinness Stout, of course. Ireland's national brew.”

David made a face. “Somebody squeeze it out of a peat bog?”

“Let me try,” Alec volunteered, reaching for the mug—just as Calvin handed him its twin. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Liz. “I didn't know if you partook or not.”

Liz cast a glance back down the alarming slope and nodded vigorously. “I do now!”

“You still abstain?” David asked Calvin, steeling himself and risking another taste.

The Indian nodded.

A musical voice interrupted, floating toward them from somewhere inside. “You forgetting about the glass of hard cider we had on my birthday?”

Calvin blushed and eased the door open, motioning for his friends to enter. The wrought-iron latch, David noted, was homemade—probably a local antique.

David let Liz in front of him and followed her into a vestibule maybe eight feet square, sided with knotty boards nailed at a forty-five degree angle. Rough hunks of skinned tree-trunk marked the corners, each of which offered a branch to a point straight above their heads in an organic semblance of a gothic vault. The arching spaces between were augmented with racks of deer antlers, including a very impressive eight-pointer. Doors opened off on either side, each hung with a woven tapestry depicting mountain sunsets. That to the left was closed, the one to the right ajar enough to expose a toilet and an antique footed bathtub, and the one straight ahead opened against a wall. Warm light came through from beyond, probably candles. There was still no sign of the woman with the wonderful voice.

David shrugged and went on ahead, entering a large space that obviously doubled as kitchen, living room, and dining room. The beamed ceiling (also peeled pine) rose to the full height of the sloping roof, and an open door beyond let in a breeze off the porch and a fabulous view of mountains.

Immediately to their right was a huge stone fireplace, and in front of it a woman was standing.

In spite of the sunburned gold of her hair, David at first thought she too was a Native American. Maybe it was the shape of her face, or the arch of her nose, or the way she carried herself—or simply the way she looked at him as if she saw more than was there. Behind him he heard Alec's sharp intake of breath and realized that she also looked more than a little like his lost love, Eva—except that this woman was wearing gray-green cords, a souvenir shirt from The Who's latest tour, and a brief, heavy-fibered vest that looked handwoven.

Suddenly the woman smiled and the ice was broken. “Well, looks like you folks made it up Coon Hound's Despair! Come in, grab a chair; I'm Sandy.”

David shook her hand, then flopped down gratefully on an overstuffed love seat beside the low green sofa facing the fireplace. Liz joined him. Without waiting permission he tugged off his shoes and socks and flexed his toes and ankles gratefully, running them through the thick fur of the sheepskin that lay on the bleached pine floor. He glanced at Alec. “So sit down, man.”

“Yeah, have a seat,” Calvin echoed, returning from whatever nameless errand had detained him out back. “Liz, what
do
you want to drink?”

“Water's fine.”

“It really is, too,” Calvin assured them, trotting into the kitchen corner to run a frosted glassful which he handed to Liz before turning his gaze to David.
“
You
,
however, don't get anything until you've finished what I gave you to start with.”

“You don't like it?” Sandy asked, sounding a little disappointed. “It was my idea.”

David tried to smile. “A valiant effort, but…”

“I'll finish it,” Alec volunteered, having already polished off his own. David handed him the mug and raised an eyebrow in Calvin's direction. “Got more of that branch water, sir?”

“I've got some bourbon to go with it,” Sandy offered, then caught herself. “Lord, what a loon I am, offering liquor to folks your age like it was goin' out of style. If the school board ever found out, they'd run me out of town on a rail.”

“Without their scalps, though,” Calvin appended over his shoulder, grinning wickedly as he filled a mug for David from the tap.

“I won't tell.”

Calvin handed David his water and cast an amusedly appraising glance at Alec, who was still leaning against the fireplace. “So have a
seat
McLean! You waitin' for a written invitation?”

“Thanks,” Alec replied, “but I'll stand a while longer, if you don't mind. Have
you
ever ridden over that road in the backseat of a Mustang?”

“I bet he hasn't,” Sandy laughed. “But I have. I've got a recliner with a built in massager if you like. It's in the bedroom.”

Alec managed a weak smile. “Later.” He glanced at David. “I guess Calvin's told you we've got serious business.”

“Which we can talk about after supper,” Sandy said, rising. “Plotting the salvation of Western Civilization always goes better on a full stomach.”

“Venison,” Calvin noted simply.

Alec poked David in the ribs as Calvin led them to the table. “Wonder if it'll beat the old family recipe?”

“Time will tell.”

*

Time did. The venison was excellent: back strap cut into thin discs, dipped in milk, then dredged in flour, lightly garlic-salted and peppered, and then quick-fried. Eaten while still hot and crunchy, it was tender enough to be cut with a fork. David decided he'd need to fool with the family recipe some, even if it was for stew. There was also wild rice and tossed salad and homemade brownies with black walnuts for dessert.

Eventually Calvin pushed back from the table. In a series of efficient moves, he whisked away the dishes and cutlery and loaded them into the sink. Five minutes later they were sitting on the front porch, watching the first ruddiness of evening creep into Carolina.

“So what's this problem you folks have?” Sandy asked at last.

Calvin told her his part first, but when they came to the section where they had spied on Tir-Nan-Og, David took over; and then each took a turn describing the wedding, since neither had seen it exactly the same.

Sandy had little to say throughout, though she nodded occasionally and jotted down a few notes now and then. Finally she looked at David. “Well, I think you're right about one thing: Obviously you should try the simplest solution first. Find out where this Fionchadd fellow is and go from there. And also, much as I hate to admit it, I think you're probably right in deciding to take matters into your own hands before you tell your friend about the threat. I really can't fault your logic or your motives. But I'm like Liz: I really think you've an obligation to warn both your friends if this scheme of yours goes awry.”

“Oh, we're definitely goin' to,” David assured her, “for whatever good it'll do. But thanks for the vote of confidence.” He glanced at Liz, then at Calvin. “Well, boys and girls, I think we've probably wasted enough time. Liz has to get back to school, and I need—well, I just need to
know
something. So let's get the show on the road. You got the torque, Fargo?”

Calvin did not reply, but slipped into the house and returned an instant later with a ring of thick gold just big enough to slip around someone's neck. It was patterned with spirals and granulated gold-work, and cloissoné lizards were worked around its circumference. One end was knobbed by a strange transparent jewel, the other was missing. Calvin handed it to Liz. “This do?”

Liz took it uncertainly. “I think so. I know I've got vibes off David's ring a time or two. Once in particular.”

“I've still got the ulunsuti,” Alec volunteered, nodding toward his red nylon backpack. “If you still want to try what we were talking about over at Uncle Dale's.”

“You mean use the ulunsuti to focus, and I use the ritual of finding?”

“While Liz tries to scry using the torque,” David finished.

“Merge the magic of two worlds?” Liz asked doubtfully.

Calvin nodded. “Worth a try—if you're up for it.”

“Yeah,” David said. “What do you think, Liz? Wanta try to use 'em both?”

Liz shrugged uneasily. “I don't reckon it'd hurt to make the effort. Worst that can happen is that I'd fail again.”

Calvin took a deep breath. “Just remember one thing, folks, Fionchadd may not
be
one World away, in which case we may not be able to find him. I mean we
do
have to consider that.”

David frowned. “Yeah, but I think he's reached me once, in a dream, which argues that he's nearby.”

“Good point,” Calvin conceded. “Only one way to find out for sure.”

Sandy still had not spoken, but was watching with real interest, a cup of Irish coffee in her hand.

David stood decisively. “Okay, gang: let's do it.” He
paused, looking at Liz, whose face was tense with anticipation. “Hey, you okay?”

She nodded. “I…I'm scared, a little. And I really don't want to do this, but I think it's the necessary thing, really the only thing. But I can't help wondering what we'll do if we can't find him. I mean, if he's further away, we may not be able to get there from our World at all, and if we have to try to figure out the Tracks—well, I'm
real
dubious about that.”

Calvin took her arm. “You don't
have
to. I can give it a go.”

She shook her head. “Sorry guys, but I think it really does have to be me. “

They retreated inside and, at Calvin's urging, changed into shorts, then cleared a space in the middle of Sandy's living room—a place conveniently demarcated by a circular rug in the shape of a Power Wheel, though Sandy said she had got the idea out of a Susan Cooper novel. Calvin stared at it a moment, then nodded and scooted it a couple of feet to the left so that it was precisely under the apex of the roof. He took the ulunsuti jar from Alec and placed it in the center, then motioned Liz to seat herself behind it, facing east. He squatted down on the eastern arm and pointed David to the north. “Your Power comes from there,” he explained. “The Sidhe come from the north, at least relative to Georgia, and your Galunlati connections in the form of Yanu are from there as well. Alec, my man, you get the south.”

“'Cause I'm from Atlanta?”

“Right.”

“Which leaves the west for me,” Sandy sighed. “Because that way lies the Land of the Dead, and I'm closer to that than you guys, right?”

“You folks must've been talkin' a lot,” David told Calvin.

Calvin rolled his eyes. “White woman ask many questions.”

“This is creepy,” Liz said hugging herself, obviously trying to remain calm. “Combining two different magical traditions, and all. And I hate to say it, but I feel kinda silly.”

“So did I when Oisin told us all to strip naked in Uncle Dale's barn,” Calvin chuckled. “You get over it.”

“Tell me about it,” Alec muttered, glancing nervously at Calvin. “Do we need to prime the pump?”

“Prime it?” Sandy wondered.

“With blood,” Calvin replied. “It gives you surer results.”

Alec grimaced sourly, even as he began baring his arm. “I feel like a bloody pin-cushion.”

“Bad pun, McLean.”

“Meant to be.”

Calvin shrugged. “Let's try it without, first. If the torque's as strong as I think it is, it should be enough. How 'bout it, Liz?”

She shrugged in turn. “All this ritual's new to me. My granny just taught me to trust my feelings; she just showed me how to breathe and let go of myself and see what my brain was really thinking when I wasn't watching. But since then I've decided that desire and belief are prime triggers. Now—let's get started.”

She took a deep breath and unstoppered the jar, then emptied the ulunsuti from its bag and placed it back on the center of the rag before her. Next, she placed the torque atop it so that it curved around the crystal, took one gilded end in each hand, and closed her eyes.

David simply stared at the talisman. He was aware of Sandy to his right, of Calvin to his left, conscious of the pressure of their knees against his own. But he centered on the ulunsuti. It was easier here than at Alec's or Uncle Dale's, perhaps because of the environment. The ceiling between the rafters was dark now, though the beams themselves were limned with candle fire.