Denner's Wreck

Chapter Five

"…when they returned to their village they told their friends and families what had befallen them, and poured forth glowing praise of Isabelle's hearth and hospitality. They spoke at length of her kindness and generosity, how she had taken them in from the storm and met their every need, even before they could ask. They described the fine foods they had eaten, and the exotic beverages they had drunk. They showed the magical cloaks she had given them that were so thin that they could easily be folded up and put in one's pocket, but which would keep out even the coldest wind.

"And most of the people of the village marvelled, and remarked on how fortunate the travelers had been, and then thought no more about it.

"But a handful of greedy villagers, upon hearing these stories, resolved to see these wonders for themselves, and bring back some of these heavenly foods, and magic capes, and other prizes, that they might sell them and become rich. ‘Why should these fools have such good fortune,’ they said, ‘when clever and worthy men such as ourselves do not?'

"So they set out into the northern hills, following the tales they had heard, and at length they came to the gates of Isabelle's demesne.

"There they did not wait for an invitation, but pounded loudly upon the delicate carvings, demanding entrance. And a voice called out, ‘What do you want?'

"Their spokesman replied, ‘We have come for dinner and a night's lodging!'

"'This is not an inn,’ the voice replied, ‘but you may come in and warm yourselves at my hearth.’ And the gates swung open, and a great wind pulled them forward and deposited them at the door of the house.

"They wasted no time, but hurried inside, boots still caked with snow and mud, coats dripping, pulling sacks from their shirts to carry off whatever they were given. They did not look at the statues, or at the paintings, or at the fountains. They did not pause to warm themselves before the fire. They ran straight to the great table.

"When all had seated themselves, golden dishes and silver platters came sailing out of the kitchens, bearing strange and wondrous foods-square fruits and golden meats and other things we mortals can't even imagine. Crystal goblets sprang up out of the table itself, brimming full of liquor as red as blood, and soft music played-but still they had not seen their hostess, nor could they see any musicians.

"The journey had made them hungry, so they fell to, and ate heartily, but however much they ate, more would appear, so that the table was always full. And they drank the red liquor, thinking it nothing but some concoction of fruit juice. But of course, it was more than that, and none of them were accustomed to a brew fit for the Powers, so they quickly became tipsy, and grew careless.

"And one man picked up his crystal goblet, and held it up to the light, and said, ‘This will bring its weight in gold, I should imagine!’ Then he popped it into a sack.

"Suddenly the lights all went out, and the shutters slammed tightly closed on every window, and the room was plunged into darkness except for a single ray of light that seemed to come from nowhere, but which shown directly onto the man who had taken the goblet.

"'What did you say?’ the voice demanded. ‘Did you say you plan to sell my tableware? Is this the way you treat your hostess? Is this the way you accept my hospitality?'

"The man shuddered and dared not reply, and then, lo and behold, with a boom and a bang and a flash that blinded all the others, a bolt of lightning struck down from the ceiling and burned the thief to black ash.

"The others all fell from their chairs and groped toward the door as their vision slowly returned, and they all fled screaming into the night.

"When they had gone a few kilometers, they slowed, thinking themselves safe, and some even spoke of perhaps returning again to the house-but then one of them screamed, and turned black and fell dead at their feet, though they had seen nothing touch him and could find no mark on him save the blackening. They saw that they were not safe yet, but still, they did not yet realize that none of them could ever escape, that the last would live only long enough to tell the tale-but I get ahead of my story.

"After their comrade had fallen dead so mysteriously, the others took counsel among themselves…"

– from the tales of Atheron the Storyteller

“Excuse me, sir, but there's a message I think might interest you."

Startled, Geste looked up from where he lay on his belly, seemingly adrift in mid-air. “What?” he said. “What message?"

The floater above him blinked an apologetic blue, then said, “A termination signal has been received from a gift disk, coded as Bredon the Hunter, second priority response."

“Bredon?” He glanced down through his platform at the three young women bathing in the river below. He had intended to do something to startle them, though he had not yet decided exactly what. He hadn't sent a bunch of teenagers squealing in ages.

Well, he could always find more naked women to embarrass, and he had promised Bredon a favor. “All right,” he said. “Where is he? His village?"

“No, sir. The disk was broken in the immediate vicinity of The Meadows."

“Which meadows?"

“The Meadows, sir. The normal-space location of the home of Lady Sunlight of the Meadows."

“Really?” This was suddenly very interesting; the nubile creatures below him were instantly forgotten. “He's been bothering Lady Sunlight?"

“I couldn't say, sir. The openly available information from Lady Sunlight's household intelligences indicates that a trespasser was recently expelled from The Meadows, but no identification was made, and no information is available on what the trespasser was doing or why he was expelled."

Geste got to his feet, grinning. The platform turned opaque, first black, then silver. “Oh, this sounds as if it should be interesting. I wonder what Bredon thinks he's doing?"

“I have no idea, sir,” the floater said.

“I didn't suppose you did. Put up a field, then, and let's get over there and see what he wants."

“Yes, sir."

The air around him was suddenly dead, motionless and silent, as the forcefield snapped into place. Geste felt a very slight tug of acceleration, and when he glanced down the ground below the platform was moving past in a blur.

He should not have felt the start at all, though; he frowned, and promised to remind himself to have the airskiff overhauled at the first opportunity.

Soft music played. He ignored it.

Within minutes he was over the Forbidden Grove, the trees thick and green below him. The platform came to a gentle stop over the center of The Meadows and obligingly turned transparent before he could give the order. The music faded away.

At least, he thought, the basic programming still seemed sound, even if the transition-smoothing systems were weak.

The floater hovered anxiously at his shoulder as he peered down at the clearing.

“I don't see him,” Geste said after a moment.

“Neither do I,” the floater said.

“Did he get into the house somehow?” He made a gesture to the platform, which promptly extruded a small, spherical image-field. It floated up to Geste's eye level like a bubble rising in a glass of sparkling wine, and transformed itself into a flawless three-dimensional representation of the main entrance to the Meadows.

To the unaided human eye, of course, the entire palace was usually quite invisible, save where sparkles of light refracted from its turrets and trim.

The image scanned across the extradimensional facade of Lady Sunlight's residence, stepping the available radiation up or down into the visible spectrum for him, refracting it from bent-space to normal-space where necessary. Walkways, gardens, terraces, and blank walls slid across the screen, all bereft of inhabitants.

“The doorguards say no one has gotten past them,” the floater said. “And the internal systems that will talk to me all agree. Incidentally, I've spotted the remnants of the signal-disk. It was definitely here when it was broken."

“Well, I don't see him. Is Sunlight here? Maybe she knows what happened to him."

“Lady Sunlight is not presently at home, either figuratively or literally. Her messages are being forwarded, but their destination is shielded."

“That's no surprise,” Geste muttered. He and Lady Sunlight had not gotten along well for the past century or two; she had never forgiven him for intercepting and altering some of her transmissions, including party invitations. He had thought the results were funny and harmless, but she had taken affront, and had, in his opinion, been acting stuffy and humorless ever since. Among other things, she was avoiding him, refusing even his most innocuous calls. He rather hoped that Bredon's request would be something that would annoy Sunlight and that was within his power.

The floater had not finished speaking; it ignored his interruption and continued, “However, the extended defense systems report that the trespasser who was expelled several hours ago returned to The Meadows after the fields were dropped, and has only very recently departed. He is presently nearing the western edge of the grove. Recordings of your previous conversation with the native of Denner's Wreck who called himself Bredon the Hunter indicate that you neglected to mention that it would be advisable to wait in one place after breaking the disk. In keeping with the local perception of you and the other off-worlders as supernatural beings, he probably expected you to materialize out of thin air immediately after the disk was broken, and has now departed in anger."

“Ha! Of course! So that must be him to the west, then!” Geste chortled. “Let's go find him!"

“Yes, sir.” The platform turned and skimmed westward, and the floater, in accordance with Geste's standing orders regarding contact with the natives, faded from sight.

Bredon neither saw nor heard Geste's approach. He had just left the edge of the grove behind and was marching out into the grass when someone called loudly from behind him, “Hello, Bredon the Hunter, son of Aredon the Hunter!"

He whirled, startled, half expecting to see the faceless metal thing pursuing him.

There was nobody there. He saw only the trees of the grove, the mossy stones, the scattered wildflowers, and a shadow that did not belong.

He looked up, and there was Geste, standing on his platform. This time his clothes were green and shimmering, instead of violet plush, but otherwise he was unchanged. He was smiling broadly.

Geste, looking down, noticed that Bredon looked rather battered. A large bruise was spread across his nose, and a wide variety of cuts and scrapes adorned his limbs.

He hoped that the native hadn't summoned him just for a little medical service.

“Oh, it's you,” Bredon said. “Hello."

“Hello. I believe you called me,” Geste replied.

“Oh,” Bredon said again. There was something about Geste that was curiously unnerving. Perhaps, Bredon thought, it was the way the little man seemed to accept everything with a smile, as if he spent every day standing on a platform in mid-air, mysteriously appearing and disappearing.

Of course, for all Bredon knew, that was exactly how he did spend every day.

No, the unnerving part, Bredon decided, was that this harmless, rather foolish-looking little person was a Power. Geste simply did not look the part of a demi-god.

“Uh… I broke the disk,” Bredon said.

“Yes, I know. You want to collect, I presume. I said I would grant you any favor within my power. What would you like?"

Now that the moment of truth had arrived, Bredon found himself horribly nervous. Looking up at Geste in his glistening clothing, standing blithely unsupported a good four meters off the ground, Bredon could not help remembering all the childhood tales of people who had dared too much, and of wishes gone wrong. One man who had been granted wishes by Brenner of the Mountains, and had used them for cruel revenge against all who had ever slighted him, had had everything he owned, including his home and family, taken by Rawl the Adjuster to balance the scales. A woman who had demanded unlimited wealth of Hsin of the River had almost starved to death surrounded by the mountains of gold she had asked for, piles of coins that had blocked every exit from her house. A young couple who had intruded on the demesne of Gold the Delver with some harmless request had never been heard from again; Bredon's own maternal grandmother, as a girl, had known that pair personally.

And that did not even touch any of the stories about people who offended the Powers directly, as his request might well offend Lady Sunlight. There were the guests who insulted Isabelle, and the girl who matched her beauty against the Nymph, and all the people who ever had any contact at all with Thaddeus the Black. A large percentage, perhaps a majority, of the tales about the Powers were cautionary in nature.

But this was exactly the sort of cowardice he had castigated himself for, and despite his location and attire Geste looked harmless enough. “Lady Sunlight,” he said, forcing the answer out without preamble.

Geste stared at him for a moment, his grin broadening. This was better than he had really expected. He had guessed that Bredon would simply want to see the inside of Sunlight's house, or some other such harmless whim; he had not dared hope for anything so audacious as asking for Sunlight herself. “Just how do you mean that?” he said at last.

Flustered, Bredon could only stammer.

“You say you want Lady Sunlight,” Geste said in his most pompous manner. “Do you mean you want to own her, as if she were a beast of burden? Or that you want to take her as your wife? Or that you just want to lie with her once? Or do you merely want to speak with her?"

Again, Bredon could not answer coherently.

“I'm afraid that I can't give her to you outright,” Geste said. “That's beyond my power. She's as free as you or I. And for that same reason, I can't compel her to marry you. As for bedding her, all I can do is to do my best to assist you; I can make no promises.” He was rejoicing inwardly at the entire situation. Finding some way to coax Sunlight into this poor native's bed would tax his ingenuity to its fullest. Sunlight wanted nothing to do with any native.

“I… I don't want that,” Bredon said, losing his nerve. “I just want to speak to her.” That was a lie; he wanted very much to bed Lady Sunlight, but he did not want to become the subject of some new cautionary tale that would be told to future generations of children. Geste, after all, was the Trickster; he had a reputation for doing anything for a laugh, regardless of the consequences. Looking at Geste's expression, Bredon could readily see the comic possibilities in tricking a Power into bed with a mortal, and could also guess at just how Lady Sunlight might react. She would probably not see the humor, and might well take it out on him. She would be unable to harm Geste, but any number of mortals had been casually killed or maimed by Powers before this, and with far less cause.

Disappointment was plain on Geste's face, and Bredon was suddenly much more certain of his decision.

“All right,” Geste said. “You want to speak with her. Is that all?"

“Yes,” Bredon said, relieved. “That's all."

“You're sure?"

“Well, I…” Bredon began, amid a swarm of second thoughts-and urges that, while they did not qualify as thoughts, still had a strong influence. He drove them away with the memory of how Lady Sunlight guarded her home. If she could call on such defenses against a simple trespasser, what might she do to her seducer?

No, he dared not ask for more in regard to Lady Sunlight, but a twinge in his belly reminded him of another concern.

“Well,” he said, “if you have anything to eat, I'm awfully hungry."

Geste smiled. Oh, he thought to himself, he did love these poor people they had found on Denner's Wreck! They were so full of surprises. He supposed it had something to do with the brevity and simplicity of their lives; they didn't have the time to fall into firmly-fixed patterns, or the need to close out most of their environment in order to be able to handle its complexities. They could come up with the most astonishing non sequiturs. And their lack of material resources kept the basic survival urges always near the surface.

“Of course,” he said, “I'm sure that I can give you something that will help.” He made the sign for acquiescence to another's wishes with one hand, and the sign for descent with the other.

His command floater, still invisible, produced a foil-wrapped packet of concentrate from somewhere. It fell into Geste's waiting palm as the platform sank gently to a few centimeters above the ground.

Bredon stepped back warily as the platform brought Geste down nearly to his own level, but forced himself to stop after that single step.

“Here,” Geste said, offering a gleaming blue-silver packet.

Bredon accepted it gingerly, then stared at it, puzzled.

“It's food. You peel the wrapper off,” Geste explained. “It tears easily and comes off, like the skin of an orange."

“A what?” Bredon looked up.

“A fruit. Here, climb up on the platform and I'll show you."

“On the platform?” Bredon eyed the floating surface doubtfully.

“Yes, on the platform.” Geste tapped it with the toe of one slipper. “Lady Sunlight isn't home just now, and if I know her, if I call ahead she'll arrange not to be anywhere I call. It's much harder to not be there if we go in person, however, so we'll have to go find her, and the easiest way to do that is for you to climb up on the platform and save me the trouble of finding you any more elaborate transportation. Besides, I don't want to stoop, or step down and get my shoes all dirty, so if you want me to show you how to eat that thing, you'll have to get up on the platform."

Still reluctant, but unwilling to admit it, Bredon stepped forward. The platform's top hung at roughly the height of his knees. He hesitated, then put one foot up, expecting it to give beneath his weight.

It did not yield at all. It was as solid as a stone ledge, firmer than the floor of his parents’ house.

Startled, he picked up his other foot and nearly lost his balance when the platform still remained absolutely motionless. He knew it was floating unsupported on air, despite what his first step had told him, and he had unconsciously adjusted for a sinking, like that of a small boat or a well-sprung wagon, that never came.

He recovered quickly, and found himself standing on the platform beside the Trickster. His breath caught as he found himself looking down at a Power, mere centimeters away. The top of Geste's head was even with his own jaw.

From this angle it was easier than ever to think of Geste as a man, not an invulnerable, supernatural being.

But that was wrong, he reminded himself. Geste was not a mortal man, but one of the Powers that ruled the world. He could be anything he chose; that he chose to look harmless simply meant he was not to be trusted.

“Here, let me show you,” Geste said, reaching for something.

Startled, Bredon looked down and discovered that the mysterious packet was still clutched tightly in his right hand. He had completely forgotten it, absorbed as he was in boarding the flying platform and seeing Geste close up.

He held it out. Geste took it and neatly tore open one end.

Steam swirled out, though the packet had felt cool in his hand, and a rich, savory odor filled Bredon's nostrils. Geste handed the packet back to him; he stared at it in wonder, then cautiously lifted it to his face.

The smell was irresistable. He took a bite of the brown gel inside the foil.

He had never tasted anything even remotely like it. He had no words to describe the taste, nothing he could compare it to. It was warm, spicy, meaty, with an oily texture that seemed to vanish into dry crumbliness in his mouth.

It was absolutely delicious, and only after he had devoured every last trace did he pause to ask, “What did I just eat?"

Geste glanced at the empty wrapper before tossing it up into the air, where it vanished with a brief flicker of white light.

“Michaud's Delectation #3, Burgundy style,” he said.

“What's Mish… Misho's Delegation #3?"

“What you just ate."

Bredon was not satisfied by this answer, but before he could ask anything more, Geste said, “I'll take care of those injuries, if you like."

“Injuries?” Bredon was sincerely startled; he had already forgotten the various scrapes and bruises, which were far less serious than he could expect to receive any time he went after big game.

“Yes, the bruises on your nose, and those cuts, and that shoulder looks stiff, the way you're holding it. Here, take my hand."

Cautiously, Bredon reached out and took Geste's right hand in his own.

A strange tingling sensation brushed lightly across his palm, and then vanished.

“There,” Geste said, smiling. “That should take care of it; I've put a whole microscopic repair crew in your bloodstream."

Bredon had no idea what he was talking about, but thought better of inquiring.

For one thing, he had just noticed that the platform had not remained still while he ate, and while Geste did whatever it was he had done to Bredon's hand.

He had felt no motion, no acceleration, but when Bredon looked down he saw that they were flying over the grasslands, a dozen meters above the ground, so fast that the land beneath was a blur.

They were streaking westward, toward the mountains, and moving so swiftly that the mountains were growing perceptibly larger with each passing instant.

Not only that, but the soreness in his shoulder was dissolving, and his nose had suddenly stopped hurting; he had no longer been consciously aware of any pain, but its abrupt cessation certainly registered. A tentative touch found no tenderness at all, in either his nose or his shoulder. He glanced at his left arm where he had scraped it on a root and saw the red marks fading away, as were all his other injuries, major or minor.

He blinked, blinked again, and then turned away and simply watched the scenery flying by; he was too frightened to ask any more questions.

Besides, he knew that if he did ask, his voice would tremble, and he refused to give Geste the satisfaction of knowing how frightened he was.