Changer (Athanor) (50 page)

“Oh?”

“Just a feeling.  I want to interview Lovern, see if he knows anything.”

“If you can trust what he says.”

“I don’t think he will toy with me.”

“You are too trusting, Arthur.”

“Perhaps.”  Arthur is relieved to hear that Duppy Jonah’s great voice no longer booms and crashes, only rumbles.  “I was wondering if you would cease inciting the waves until we are certain that Amphitrite is indeed unfindable.”

“Why?  Those fools should think before toying with me!”

“Innocent people are being hurt.”

“They can stay off of my waters.  It is not their element, it is
mine!
”  The roar and crash returns.  “Pity is not part of my nature.  Ask the bones of the drowned dead if you doubt me.”

“I do not, Duppy Jonah.”

“Get me my wife or accept that I will mourn her in tempest, typhoon, and tsunami!”

The connection goes dead.  Arthur looks at the gluey mass of yogurt and granola sitting beside his phone.  Somehow, he doesn’t have much of an appetite any longer.

Slumped in a seat on the custom jet that has landed at Albuquerque airport, Lovern frets at his impotence.  Wrists and ankles are encircled by tidy bands of cold iron concealed beneath his clothing.  He suspects that there is more iron in the jaunty fedora Cleonice has just placed on his head.

“We’re taking you from the plane to a van.  The driver has instructions to drive directly to Arthur’s house.  In case you are considering trying to work some vengeance on us, you should know that along with your food you swallowed a small charm that will make sorcery very difficult for you even when you have removed the iron jewelry you now wear.”

Lovern cocks an eyebrow, trying hard to seem nonchalant.  “You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble over this.”

“We respect your power.  We do not doubt that if we took fewer precautions, you could do us harm.”

Lovern does not bother to disabuse her.  Magical power is a much more fragile thing than the uninitiated would believe.  He suspects that Oswaldo, the adept among the South American contingent, demanded these extremes in part to increase their respect for his own abilities.

Manco calls to Cleonice in Quechua, the language of the Incas.  “The silver bird is fueled.  We can depart as soon as you get rid of the greybeard.”

“Good,” Cleonice responds in the same language.  Then in English.  “Come with me, Lovern.”

For a single moment he considers answering her in Quechua, then decides that he would be being childish.  Why give her information that might, just might, come in useful later?

Instead he mutely follows, shuffling slightly as if the iron on his ankles hurts him.  Cleonice leaves him at the gate.

“Your driver is over there,” she says, gesturing to a long-jawed fellow in a cowboy hat and jeans.  His tee shirt reads “Two Hearts Van Lines” and is printed with a picture of the sacred hearts of Jesus and Mary.  “We have already paid him and given him your luggage.”

“Thank you.”  He offers her a jerky bow.  “I do not see the hanged man.  Fear death by water.”

“What nonsense are you speaking?”

“It’s poetry.  Ask Oswaldo.”  He turns away without further comment, leaving her staring after him in puzzlement.

The drive to Arthur’s hacienda is without event.  The driver is cordial but not intrusive.  Lovern struggles to make conversation, knowing that he must drag himself from the depression that seeks to claim him.

When he arrives at the front door of Arthur’s hacienda, the driver refuses a tip, saying he has been amply paid.  He sets the bag on the front doorstep and goes away with a polite cheerfulness that strangely warms Lovern.

Arthur must have watched for the van to drive away, for the door swings open before Lovern can raise his hand to knock.

“My wizard!”

“My liege.”  Lovern looks at Arthur, his normal cockiness falling prey to despair despite his best efforts.  “My liege, I have failed.  The Sea Queen and Vera are lost and…”

“You have been a victim, not a failure,” Arthur says heartily.  “Who would have believed that Isidro and his allies would break their oaths so lightly?  We will punish their arrogance, but first we must decide if we can rescue our people.”

Lovern lets himself be led into Arthur’s office.  As he had expected, Eddie and Anson are already there.  Also, to his surprise, is Jonathan Wong.

“I thought we might need legal advice,” Arthur explains.  He takes a seat behind his desk as he once might have mounted a throne.  “Lovern, can you report?”

“Certainly,” he says, “but while I do so, would someone remove these from my wrists and ankles?”

He shoots back his cuff, revealing the iron bracelet.  Anson immediately rises and kneels beside him.

“Locked, eh?  I can pick it.  Do you have a paper clip?”

Arthur opens his desk drawer and tosses him one.  “Is that all you need?”

“Oh, yeah.  These locks are just meant to keep Lovern here from taking off the bracelets all by his lonesome.  Anyhow, what good is a skill if you need fancy tools to use it, eh?”

Lovern watches as Anson unbends the paper clip and sets to work, then focuses on the present.

“The day after we arrived, we were taken into the rain forest, ostensibly to tour.  When the plane landed, the three of us—along with Isidro and Oswaldo—went ashore.  I was led into a magical field that knocked me out.  That’s all I remember.

“From what I overheard later, I gathered that Vera and Amphitrite were left in the rain forest.”

Eddie raises his pencil for attention.  “Why didn’t they just imprison them?”

“Partially it’s symbolic—they are endangered by the rain forest as the rain forest is endangered by human action.  Partially, it is because they did not want either Vera’s or Amphitrite’s deaths to happen directly by their own hands.  A loss to Harmony will not be dismissed lightly.”

“Then the threat to kill them is empty?” Arthur asks.

“No.  I don’t think so.  Isidro is a fanatic—he has always been so, whether for
jihad
, the Allies, or this.  He has killed for ideals in the past.  This time, he can claim with some truth that he wanted the ladies to get to know the rain forest intimately—that the sojourn was part of their education.”

“Then he is thinking about the future.”

“In an odd way.”

“Do you think he is sane?” Arthur asks.

“In the legal sense of being responsible for his actions?” Lovern glances at Jonathan.  “If he’s crazy, he’s crazy like a fox.  All of them are.  They know full well that our people would not condone a usual hostage situation, so they have created an unusual one.  My guess is that their version of events will be that Vera and Amphitrite became lost in the rain forest.”

“And if we say other?”

“My guess is that our silence will be part of the price for the ladies’ safe return.”

Jonathan Wong nods.  “That is logical.  If we let it become widely known that we made concessions to regain the hostages, then we are vulnerable to similar tactics in the future.  Isidro and his associates may be counting on our realizing that silence is in our own best interests.”

An iron bracelet thumps to the floor.  Anson chortles and moves on to the next.

“And what if we do not treat with them?” Arthur says.  “It is against my policy to endanger the whole to regain the few.”

“Then,” Lovern says, shaking his wrist as Anson removes the second bracelet, “I believe they will both die and the lands will be awash with the wrath of the Sea King.”

Eddie nods.  “I agree.  Amphitrite’s death is what we must fear.  If we get her back alive, Duppy Jonah will be appeased.

“I’m not saying,” he adds hastily, “that we should forsake Vera.  Not at all, but Duppy Jonah poses the greatest danger to ourselves, our secret, and innocent others.”

“True.”  Arthur muses.  “We need to send an emissary to him asking for time.  Who will he speak with?”

“The Changer,” Lovern says immediately.  “I saw real affection between them when we sojourned beneath the waves.”

Anson finishes unlocking one of the ankle bands and glances up.  “I agree.  The Changer can also travel by land or sky or sea as a creature of them all.”

“Then he must be sent for,” Arthur glances at a calendar.  “As I count the days, he will be checking for messages tonight.  It is already evening.  Someone should leave right away.”

“Let Anson and me go,” Eddie says.  “I know the area, and he can post the message and drive.”

“Done,” the King says.  “Stay there until the Changer comes.  He may agree to return with you immediately.”

“Very well.”  Eddie leans on his cane and pushes himself up.

Anson removes the last bond and grins at Lovern.  “There you are, magic man.  Soon you’ll be back to power, fast as you can.”

“I hope,” Lovern grumbles.  “And thank you.”

“The rest of us,” Arthur says, after Eddie and Anson depart, “will try to find ways to stall both Isidro and Duppy Jonah.”

Jonathan Wong sighs.  “I wish Vera were here.  We could use her wisdom now.”

“So do I,” Arthur says with a trace of bleak humor.  “After all, if she were here, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Swansdown
>> We have a private plane.  It’s very useful out here.  We figured that the family would fly down to Albuquerque in that.  The Moderator has said that he can arrange discreet refueling caches along the way.

Rebecca
>>  Don’t you do everything with dogsleds out there?

Swansdown
>> :) You have a somewhat antiquated notion of Alaskan life.  How long since you visited?

Rebecca
>>  I guess it’s been a century or so.

Swansdown
>>  Technology has changed our lives a great deal, my dear niece.  My little daughter Dawn speaks seven languages fluently thanks to audiotapes and satellite dish programs—and that’s even though she’s never met anyone but a few Eskimos.

Rebecca
>>  I wonder if Bronson would get us a plane?

Swansdown
>> Ask!  He’s a bit conservative, however.

Rebecca
>>  But wonderful!  He’s a survivor.

Swansdown
>>  As we all are, my dear, as we all are.

Rebecca
>>  Are you excited?

Swansdown
>>  About the trip or the proposed revolution?

Rebecca
>>  Both.

Swansdown
>>  The trip, definitely, a bit scared, too.  I’d be happier if we were going in winter, not in autumn.  I understand we’d never get the fauns and satyrs, then.  As for the revolution?  Arthur needs to face facts.  Just like you, I think he overlooks the possibilities modern technology offers—he only sees the threats.  Still, he has been a steady monarch.

Rebecca
>>  Static.

Swansdown
>>  However you choose to see it, my dear.  I really must log off.  I hear Snowbird and Dawn arriving.  They’ll need help unloading.

Rebecca
>>  This has been nice, Aunt.

Swansdown
>>  Indeed it has.  Do consider coming for a visit after the Albuquerque trip.

Rebecca
>>  I will.

Dear Aunt Swansdown,
Rebecca thinks.
 It’s easy for her to be so content.  She’s a shaman and one with not a few charms.  Her curses are legendary.  I bet she has the locals cowed.