Six Moon Dance Part 16

Onsofruct snorted. "And our foremothers didn't report that, either! Even a generation later we could have reported. Needless to say, we didn't. We have committed a very grave offense in not reporting the existence of an intelligent and speaking race. This will not be to our credit."

D'Jevier nodded agreement. "The Questioner, who takes the matter of indigenous races very seriously, will not excuse these omissions if it finds out about the Timmys."

Marool shifted on her chair, frowning. "But why does the Questioner's visit prohibit our asking the Timmys now about the wilderness?"

"We cannot take time to pursue the linguistic matter, since the Timmys are even now being banished."

"Banished?" Marool was dumbfounded. "What do you mean, banished?"

"Sent away, into the mountains. The Questioner and her people aren't blind! The Timmys must not be visible when the Questioner arrives."

"But they do half the work in the city! On the farms! Everywhere!"

"Obviously they do," D'Jevier replied. "But someone else will have to do that half! We've decided to make up the lack through press gangs. There are a good many supernumeraries who are underemployed, if they are employed at all. And then, the Consort Houses are full of young men who can be used, at least temporarily."

Onsofruct asked in a suspiciously casual voice, "Do you use Timmys on your estate, Marool?"

"I do," she said, rather angrily. "Though not in the house. There I prefer human servants, but I let the steward use them in the gardens, the fields, and in the stables."

The two Hags bowed and glanced at one another again, each thinking that few persons had the unlimited wealth of a Mantelby with which to hire human servants. Or the unlimited number of nephews needing work.

"Then except for the stables and gardens, your mansion is staffed and run entirely by humans?" murmured D'Jevier.

"It is."

Again that glance. D'Jevier nodded, saying, "Marool, would you consider letting us house the Questioner with you?"

Marool swallowed a snort and tried to formulate a polite mode of refusal, then bethought herself that it might be best not to refuse. Not yet, at any rate. "Why with me?"

D'Jevier rose and went to sit beside Marool, regarding her intently. "What do you know of the Questioner?"

"What anyone knows. There's something about her in the Book of Worlds Book of Worlds, the one we all learn to read from as children. I don't think I've even heard the name of the Questioner used in a dozen years. Her creation always seemed to me to be a fool idea."

Onsofruct said in a conciliatory tone, "Perhaps, but an idea with an ancient history, nonetheless. Mankind has long been interested in a.s.suring ethical treatment of other races."

"History is all well and good." Marool snorted. "Ethical treatment is no doubt something we all wish to achieve. But if the Timmys have come here since we came, surely the Questioner would not insist on our leaving this world."

D'Jevier crossed to the window and stared outward. "That's the enigma, Marool. They weren't here when we came, but they didn't come after we came. They couldn't have. Council of Worlds traffic monitors hang in orbit around all occupied worlds from the moment of first settlement, recording every arrival and departure. Nothing has landed on this planet since we came except the supply and trade ships we all know about. By dint of much effort, we keep Timmys away from the port. The staff there is made up of both Hags and Men of Business, and we can say unequivocally the Timmys did not arrive here; they were already here even though no one knew it."

"Now seems late to worry over it," grumbled Marool.

Onsofruct said, "We thought we'd done our worrying long since, when we first adopted our conventions vis-avis the Timmys: not speaking to them, not looking at them. We worried about it by shutting them away in particular places where they could not be seen. They have become to us, in accordance with custom, invisible. We could argue that they do not exist, to us."

D'Jevier nodded. "Now, however, the Questioner comes. Do we confess to generations, centuries, of untruth? Do we pretend to her that these creatures are indeed invisible? She is unlikely to agree. Do not suggest that we pack up our families and our baggage and leave the planet, for unfortunately, that is no longer an option. There are certain limits on the evacuation of planetary populations, and we are now too numerous for that choice. A century ago we could have departed, perhaps, but not now. Do we volunteer to restrict ourselves to a small part of Newholme and eschew any contact with the Timmys? A similar offer was made by mankind on Bayor's world when they discovered a native population living on a single island where they had been for millennia. The Questioner said it wasn't good enough and acted against the entire mankind population. That was only fifteen years ago, and I remember vividly the consequences of that decision."

Marool was astonished. "I had not heard of this!"

"Few of us here on Newholme read the reports of the COW, a few of us Hags, a librarian or two, a few Men of Business. The Men of Business have some understanding of the situation, for they invited us to house the Questioner at the Fortress of Vanished Men, obviously because it has no Timmy staff. As though that would be enough! The Questioner isn't blind, or deaf. Even though Timmys don't exist in the fortress-or at your mansion, Marool-she would not be fooled by that alone. No. Total banishment is necessary. The Questioner must neither hear nor see a single Timmy while she-it is here." is here."

A long silence, during which Marool ground her teeth, finally erupting with: "How are you going to make them go?"

"They hear us. They understand us. We've said enough that they know what the stake is. Either they disappear, or we may all die."

Marool snorted. "You're a.s.suming that all this circ.u.mspection will be easier to manage if I invite the Questioner to Mantelby House?"

"It is more hope than a.s.sumption," Onsofruct murmured. "Once the Timmys have been sent away, if they will understand enough to go away, there'll be a period of adjustment in human behavior. New habits, however, take time to form and old ones are hard to break. Presumably your house servants do not have the habit of addressing thin air with orders for the nearest Timmy to wash the dishes or milk the cows."

Marool mused, stroking her ma.s.sive jaw. "True, which makes it all well and good inside my walls, but the Questioner won't sit still, will she? We can't depend on her squatting at my place all day and all night while she's here."

"This may be true. The plan is not foolproof, but we have no alternative to suggest. We do know the Questioner has various aides, a.s.sistants, deputies, and functionaries, and we can make it a point to accompany these ancillaries during their investigations, interpreting what they may or may not see or hear."

Marool moved restlessly to the small barred window that looked out over the avenue, the wide steps, the parade of women climbing toward and descending from the Temple. "I will have to get rid of my Timmy gardeners and stable workers."

"Yes," D'Jevier murmured.

"When does the banishment take place?"

"We started earlier this evening, delivering the edict to all homes and businesses."

"The planetary economy will probably collapse," said Marool, thinking of the many Men of Business who handled Mantelby affairs and all their investments and projects.

"Well, of course, if we would prefer extinction ..." Onsofruct's voice was not at all sarcastic, though her eyebrows slanted sardonically.

Marool shook her head doubtfully. "I don't see how the Questioner could insist on our extinction. How would it enforce a dictum like that?"

D'Jevier said wearily, "The biological sciences are far advanced on many worlds, Marool. The Questioner need only explode a small canister in our upper atmosphere, as was done on Bayor's world...."

Marool retreated into sulky silence. "I suppose I can survive without Timmys. If the visit isn't long. But having guests ... it would be an inconvenience."

To break a weighty silence, Onsofruct murmured, "Let me take a few moments to discuss the matter with my colleague."

Taking D'Jevier by the arm, she led her out into the hall.

"I hate that woman," said D'Jevier. "There is a horridness about her."

"You are remembering the time she came here...."

"I am remembering that, yes. And there have been rumors. Disappearances. Things her servants tell, when they come down into town. Things her neighbors say they've heard. Things that might have been foretold, keeping Morrigan in mind."

"And you hate her," Onsofruct mused.

"I loathe her. I think all the stories are true."

"Then you don't want to authorize her to house the Questioner."

D'Jevier snorted. "I loathe her, but I loathe equally what the Questioner may do to us! I've racked my brain trying to come up with a place to put this Questioner creature where there are or have been no Timmys. In this one case, Marool's desires parallel our own. She's bright, she's ruthless, and she's likely to be as helpful as possible. Have you some better idea?"

"None," said Onsofruct.

"Then let us pay the piper, as we must."

They returned to the office, and Onsofruct said, "We could possibly grant you some consideration, Marool, to make the inconvenience worth your while."

"Well worth my while?" She lifted the corners of her mouth into a harpy's smile.

D'Jevier wet her mouth, which was inexplicably dry. "And what offer would do that?"

"You mentioned press gangs. From among the supernumeraries, and the Consort Houses...."

Onsofruct, reading the distress on her companion's face, said in an unperturbed voice, "You would be ent.i.tled to replace your Timmys, of course. Once you have announced the edict of banishment to your stable and garden workers."

"Tomorrow?"

"If you like."

"How do I go about it?"

The two Hags exchanged quick glances once more. Marool was a good deal more eager than they thought appropriate.

"Ah," mused Onsofruct, "you can come down into the city with a few of the Haggers you have been kind enough to support and select a few supernumeraries from the streets. Take note of their ident.i.ty, place of residence, and mode of living. Be prepared to bring that information here for registration."

"I was thinking more of ... you said the Consort Houses!"

"Ah, well. Yes. You could obtain two or three workers from the Consort Houses if you like."

"Am I to buy expensive Consorts to clean my stables?"

D'Jevier drew herself up, her voice cold. "No. Certainly not. But you will will give the House owner a signed receipt, guaranteeing the return of her students when the current emergency is over. The supernumes would also have to be returned." give the House owner a signed receipt, guaranteeing the return of her students when the current emergency is over. The supernumes would also have to be returned."

"House Genevois," purred Marool. "I've had my eyes on ..."

D'Jevier cried, "Mistress Mantelby, please. The young men are to be gardeners and stable hands. Need we make the point they are to be only that?"

Onsofruct put her hand on D'Jevier's shoulder, calming her. "My colleague is correct. You are not to use them as Consorts, and for the duration of the Questioner's visit, it would be better not to allude to the existence of such, for we do not know what the Questioner would think of such a profession."

Marool's eyes narrowed. She was not accustomed to taking orders from anyone. Still, in grievous times, one could bear grievous pains, as the book of precepts had it, though one would remember the pains later, and who inflicted them.

"I will settle for a few from the street." She smiled charmingly. "And a few more from one of the Hunk Houses."

She took her leave from them, humming under her breath as she made her way from the Temple. Behind her, she left two troubled Hags.

"We may live to regret this," said D'Jevier.

"If we live at all," said Onsofruct. "Which is really the issue."

The order of banishment was carried by swift couriers to all mankind towns and villages, and from thence was spread by riders and rumor into the rural lands. The Questioner is coming. The Questioner is coming. All those invisible somethings that do not actually exist must go away into the wilds. Consult with local Haggers to obtain pressed men to do necessary labor. The Questioner is coming. The Questioner is coming. All those invisible somethings that do not actually exist must go away into the wilds. Consult with local Haggers to obtain pressed men to do necessary labor.

Though the words of the edict were trumpeted in some places, in most they spread silently, like a fog, a fog that seemed both to spur the Timmys' going and to hide the fact of it. After the first hour or so, those attempting to spread the edict to the Timmys themselves were amazed to find no Timmys to spread it to. As one observer put it, the invisibles had "faded into the walls." That was exactly where many of them were. No matter where Timmys labored for the humans, they were never more than a few steps from an entry to their own world, that subsurface milieu which spongified the planet beneath mankind's feet.

Doors opened, secret ways were momentarily crowded, and within an incredibly short time all the Timmys who had worked among humans had disappeared like blown-out candle flames. By dawn, not one could be found.

34.

Pressed into Service.

That same dawn, Ornery Bastable arose from her bed on the deck of the steamer, dressed herself carefully, arranged her veils, and climbed the steps from the stone pier to Brewer's Bridge. From the carved railing, iridescent water birds (called birds, even though they were not actually birds) were diving for fish while others sat on the banks drying their black/green/violet wings and croaking at one another. Brighter birds were clinging to the reeds, trilling at any other of their kind within hearing. The sky was a clear and flawless blue except for the haze that hung above the scarp, where long lines of gray, like blown veils, stretched away diagonally on the seawind, fading into the horizon to the south.

Despite the good weather, the clear sky, the quiet city, Ornery felt something was wrong, or different, or awry. Her first thought was the scarp, and she set her feet widely apart, waiting for that premonitory shudder, but nothing came. She turned and walked westward along the street, looking around at the street scene, the early carts clattering across the cobbles, the bustle of a few veiled Men of Business, the call of a milk vendor: "Fraiiiish, Creeeemy: glug glug glug; breeng your bahttles, breeng your jug!" and the spice-cart man's staccato call, "Pepper-an-spice, makes-it-nice. Pepper-pepper-pepper." Newholmian pepper was actually better than Old Earth peppers, and it sold to the BIT for a good price.

Ornery turned slowly, examining her surroundings. Something was amiss. Something was wrong! Then she realized. Timmys! There were no Timmys. No brown-clad forms scurrying behind the wagons or along the walls. There were always Timmys, everywhere, but not this morning. Not sweeping the roads. Not running here and there on errands. Not washing the outsides of windows or scrubbing the stoops of the buildings. Not leading the donkeys that pulled the carts. Not putting out the trash bins. No Timmys.

Ornery stopped where she was, on the corner just outside House Genevois, and stared about herself, confused. As she stood, staring witlessly, a carriage approached with several armed Haggers running along behind it, and behind them a wagon with two veiled men chained to its railing. Ornery's hand went to her veils, securing them, and she stepped back against the building, out of the way.

The carriage stopped and a voice trumpeted, "That one, there. Let me see his face!"

One of the Haggers approached, ripped down Ornery's veils, then waited while Ornery's heart half-stopped and her breathing did stop.

"Good enough," the woman called. "Put him in the cart."

"What?" Ornery cried. "What is this?"

"Press gang," said the Hagger, not without some satisfaction. "Mistress Marool is pressing some of you supernumeraries to take the place of some ... servants of hers."

"But I'm a seaman!" cried Ornery. "I've a legitimate job. I'm not a supernumerary."

The woman had alighted from the carriage. Now she too approached, glaring into Ornery's face. "If I say you are a supernumerary, boy, that's what you are. If you speak out of turn again, you'll serve my needs without your tongue."

Ornery choked herself silent. The woman went by her like a storm wind, and the Hagger who held her thrust her past the carriage to the cart that waited there, where Ornery was unceremoniously put inside and chained beside two other unwilling pa.s.sengers, from whom she learned what little they knew about what was going on.

Meantime the woman had gone on to the main doors of House Genevois, where she jerked the great bell into such a clamor that it sent a cloud of birds flying from the roof, screaming outrage. The door was opened, and she went inside to find Madame herself awaiting her.

Marool presented the edict of the Hags, her sneer of authority ready for use at the first sign of recalcitrance.

"Wait here," said Madame, leaving with such alacrity that Marool had no time to be rude. She was gone long enough for Marool to have worked up a good fume by the time she returned.

"See here," she began, in an angry tone.

"In here," said Madame, throwing open the double doors that centered the farther wall. Inside the gymnasium thus disclosed were several ranks of young men, arranged by age.

"I have not included the Consorts already purchased, since they are not my property to dispose of," said Madame, crisply. "The younger boys would be of little use to you as laborers, for they have not come into their strength. All the others are here."

Marool's eyes gleamed. She did not notice the pinched look of Madame's nostrils, or the wariness in the faces of those before her. She had no hint of what had been said by Madame to those youths in the intervening moments. She was interested in only one thing, and that was to discover the boy she had seen in the park. The light veils the youths wore were no impediment to her search. She walked down the line, spotting him immediately. It was the boy she had seen. She could not possibly have missed him. He was the largest boy in the room.