Kelvin Knight - Chimaera's Copper Part 14

"Now see here, Mervania, I resent-"

"Oh shut up! I'm too thrilled to argue with you." Her head darted forward, and she kissed him quickly on the mouth. That startled him into silence. "Listen. With those berries we wouldn't be confined. We could swallow them and go anywhere we wanted. To-"

"Gwroowl!"

"Oh very well!" she said impatiently, and kissed Grumpus too, on the nose.

"Food?" Mertin asked.

"No, not food! We wouldn't eat in that form. But we could see and hear everything!"

"Why would we want to do that?"

"Entertainment, moron! Discovery! Adventure! We could visit distant lands, other worlds, other frames. Astrally we could go and see and hear anything there is!"

"Who cares?"

"I do! And you would too, if you had half the brain of a froogear! I want dragonberries! Listen, Mertin, we might find more of our kind the squarears don't know about! We could visit them astrally, and maybe even-"

"Go to them and mate?"

"Maybe. If the squarears cooperate."

"Would they?"

"I don't know. But think of it. We could be a whole colony. A whole world, perhaps."

"Sounds stupid to me. Why should there be more than two? Two's enough to mate. I could take care of that while you sleep."

"Several would be better. Because that's the way it is. The companionship. The communication."

"One more like you would talk me to death."

"Grwoompth!" Grumpus agreed.

But Mervania refused to be dampened. She wanted those dragonberries, no matter what the cost!

Squirtmuck stared into the roundear's face with puzzlement. He had thought this one dead, but now it was awake and looking back at him. Could it be something like the deep sleep in the mud? He could not be certain, and he did not think more about it now that the surprise was gone. But this roundear was reaching for something under its armpit. A weapon? Quickly he grabbed the ugly creature's pale, k.n.o.bby wrist. The roundear resisted him and struck at him with its other hand. The gauntlet that had been on that hand had slipped off and dropped into the slime while the creature was unconscious.

Firmly, Squirtmuck placed a webbed hand against the creature's loathsome face and held it while he explored under the disgusting smelly arm. What he found was a bag with a drawstring. He pulled it loose, stood back, opened the sack, and peered inside.

The roundear cried out. "No! No! Father, it's got the-"

"Shut up!" the other roundear said. "You're not helping things."

The creature in the tree bole subsided. But his eyes were big and round as Squirtmuck smelled, prodded with a fingertip, and finally tasted one of the dried berries.

"That will kill you!" the roundear cried. "It's poison! To anyone but roundears. It's magic! Big magic!"

Squirtmuck spat out the bitten berry. His tongue burned and he stuck it out and scrubbed its forked tip with his well-slimed hand. He was not too sensitive to tastes, but this was revolting. He retched and spat. Then, to his great distress, he choked out a perfectly good leech. He took in several deep breaths of good swamp air before recapturing the leech with a quick grab and reswallowing it. Good food was not to be wasted!

The roundear for some peculiar reason was vomiting itself. Squirtmuck looked at the mess in the water but saw nothing wriggling. Roundears probably had peculiar tastes like other eared races; it might be that they ate food not even alive. No wonder it made them sick! The roundear quit heaving and wiped its mouth. Any self-respecting froogear would have licked his own mouth, not used his hand.

"Father," the roundear said, "I think they've got us. Again."

"Tell me something I don't know, Son."

Squirtmuck ignored them. He furrowed his head hard, trying to decide what to do with the dried berries. He wouldn't eat them or give them to another froogear even if it was someone he disliked. Possibly they were magic, as the roundear said; in that case the squarears would be interested. He decided to put the berries with the rest of the loot, and not hide any of it except in the great tree hollow where such forbidden objects were placed. Yes, he'd do that, and the G.o.d or the squarears might reward him in this or some other life.

Clearing his throat he looked around at the members of his band busily examining the objects they had taken. One, a brother to one of his wives, had the belt and sword that had been on the big roundear. Another froogear had gathered up the two gauntlets and was sniffing them. Others had the younger roundear's sword and several knives.

"Come!" he said, motioning. Under his watchful eyes certain objects were placed in the bole of the collecting tree and others held out as tribute to the G.o.d.

That night, while the foragers feasted and splash-danced, Squirtmuck tried to feed and talk with the captives. He was unsuccessful in both attempts. For some reason the roundears tightened their mouths at the sight of fresh, squirming provender. When all reasonable questions were asked, they answered with foolishness about having great magic and powerful friends.

Long before daylight Squirtmuck considered burying them deep in the mud and forgetting that they had ever been. Alas, the G.o.d had to be served, and the squarears placated. In the morning they commenced the trek.

Bloorg left his dinner and activated the crystal with a thought. His thought was of the roundears in the swamp. He concentrated on the area between the transporter cavern and the chimaera's island, made a sweep, and found them.

The older man and the younger were both captives of froogears, again. Both on their way back to the chimaera, to be eaten.

He sighed. There was no help for it. They were just too troublesome to save twice.

He scanned back to the collecting tree. Yes, all their things were there, waiting. They would not need them now, but the objects would be re-collected. Sometimes he could wish to give such artifacts to the froogears, but that he knew could be dangerous.

There was no help for it. No help at all. Sighing with regret, he blanked out the crystal. Then, exerting great effort, he strove to erase all memory of the roundears' existence.

Grool asked what he was doing.

"I don't know," he said. "But I think I was successful at it."

Satisfied with himself, now, he sat back down at his table and resumed eating the fire-blackened swampfish and chilled lettuage salad he had interrupted.

The chimaera was really in a troubled state. Mervania kept remembering what she had glimpsed with her mind in the larder room. Mertin, maybe just to be mean, kept pooh-poohing the experience.

"We have to make them show us!" Mervania said. "Even if we don't eat them."

"GRRROOOMTH! WAHH!".

"Oh shut up! You'll get raw meat enough! But this is something we can't ignore! All our life I thought it couldn't be, and now I know it is. We just have to get those berries! Why, with those, Grumpus, we could go see dragons!"

"GWROOMTH?".

"Yes! That's what I've been telling you! And Mertin, try to think at least as well as Grumpus! All the sights we can see. The chance of finding us a mate!"

That did strike some interest. Mertin had had time to ponder the pleasures of mating, and was working up some urge for them. "If we can get the berries."

"Yes. That's why we have to get these creatures to bring them. We can't get out, but they can if we let them."

"But they won't come back. With or without berries."

"True, but if we can offer them something in exchange, they might."

"What?"

"Our old copper stings. You know how they value those."

"But they're dangerous! Even to us!"

"But if we make a deal-?"

"We'd be risking all our heads. No thanks, Mervania. To toy with food is one thing; to deal with it another."

"GWROOMTH!" Grumpus agreed.

Mervania felt despair. She knew the lesser heads were right, yet she hated to give up. There were so many places she would like to see again and never could in a physical way. There was that beautiful flower world, for instance, where big-headed wizards with greenish skins grew strange crops. How she had relished the meatloaf plants and the maiden's-blood flowers! Grumpus had had his fill of juicy torso trees and gut vines, while Mertin had gone into ecstatic burps after his first feast of rumpkins and chucquash. Those had been great meals and great times, and the wizards had not begrudged them but let them revel. Why had they ever left? Some mischief on the part of the wizards, or just plain wanderl.u.s.t? She could not recall.

"Mervania, what are you doing, daydreaming again?"

"I thought you said I talked too much," she said curtly.

"You do. You also daydream too much. But they're coming now. They're outside."

"What are you talking about?"

"Use your mind, Mervania. Your supposedly smart mind."

What was she doing, letting Mertin tell her things? She searched past the wall of their island. There she encountered thoughts.

If I hadn't taken that berry, we wouldn't have gotten caught! That was stupid of me! Stupid as Kelvin!

Kian Knight, one of the escapees! And- I got the boy into this! I should have watched better! Now he'll never see his bride!

Kian's father! John Knight.

Mervania started their body walking daintily for the big gate. The tribute had been fetched across the swamp and the escapees were back in their power. All was as it should be. Except- She still wanted those berries. Oh, yes, indeed, she wanted them.

She did not bother with her head-over-the-wall trick. She knew who was there and how they'd be waiting. Such teasing only worked once, unfortunately.

Pushing open the gate she looked after the disappearing row of bubbles and then at the thoroughly bound and helpless Knights.

"Welcome home," she said. "This time it's really no surprise."

"W-what do you mean?" Kian gasped.

"Why, that you were here before, visiting. Did you think I would not know?"

"I deny that! Whoever was here, it wasn't me!"

Poor human foodstuff. So very slow to grasp.

CHAPTER 12.

Helbah

"Here they come!" Phillip was so excited he couldn't contain himself. He was pointing at the Kance cavalry charging down on them. They kept coming faster and faster in overwhelming numbers and still General Reilly, alias St. Helens, did not give the order. At their backs was the open Kance plain and the Hermandy forest they had left.

"Those horse and riders could be phantoms. Illusions," Lomax said. His voice squeaked boyishly, causing Phillip to look surprised. A very few years older than Phillip, so he might have seemed to the former boy-king to be above fear.

"Back into the forest!" St. Helens ordered. "Take refuge behind trees. Don't fire a shot until you see that these are real!"

The men obeyed, as good soldiers should. St. Helens wasn't certain that these Hermans were good, but he knew they were disciplined. They waited behind the trees, arrows nocked, crossbows c.o.c.ked, swords, shields, and spears ready should these soldiers turn out to be genuine.

The Kance cavalry halted just out of bowshot. A tall Kance general stood high in his stirrups and waved the Kance flag of blue and white. "Truce!" he called out loudly. "Talk between commanders!"

St. Helens relaxed. His caution in taking cover had been justified; this was a real force, not a phantom one. He was glad to have a truce. Better talk than battle, though battle was probably inevitable.

"Agreed!" he called back. "We meet midway." Then to his men he shouted, "Anyone who breaks the truce dies! Second in Command Lomax, you see that that order is carried out!"

"Yes, sir," Lomax squeaked. If necessary he would die for his general, and St. Helens knew it.

"Phillip-keep the faith."

"What faith is that, General St. Helens?"

Would the kid never learn? "Earth expression. Just do right. Be alert for any truce violation on the part of these regulars."

"Yes, sir, St. Helens. I'll do that." The boy seemed eager, and his old chess-playing self.

"Fine. Then-" St. Helens walked out to meet the Kance officer. The ground was a little wet from yesterday's rain and the smell of damp ground and gra.s.s would have been a treat to his nostrils if they had not come through the forest. How did the Kancian know if they'd emerge right here at this particular spot on the border? Reconnaissance, of course. Surveillance by an ancient craft that he'd come fully to believe in. To fight an army was one thing, but a witch? He put the thought out of his mind and walked resolutely ahead.

"General Reilly, Army of Hermandy," he said, approaching the other.

"General De Gaulic, Army of Kance," the other said. The man was big and ugly and had a large nose; the nose was his most impressive feature.

Now there was nothing to do but talk. The Kance general had called the truce, so he would speak first. St. Helens waited.

"General Reilly, also known as St. Helens, you serve a madman. Your people have no quarrel with mine and never have. You should go back."

Direct. Also depressingly accurate. "I serve the interests of he known as the Roundear of Prophecy, Kelvin Knight Hackleberry. It is for the newly formed Republic of Kelvinia that I lead this invasion force."