Quibble, 41. Mountain
Quibble flees.
41. Mountain @Quibble
Stone walls and bare floorboards materialized around me. Before me was a small fireplace, the remains of a fire smoldering there. I caught my breath, then looked about. Bed, wardrobe, writing desk, shelf. On the shelf was a dictionary and a collection of crudely made pottery. This was Marginalia’s cell. I was amazed. I’d never taken the amber to the monastery, and I had only once glimpsed this room.
“Why here?” I said, forgetting to intone.
Home, Meissa replied. You told me to pop anywhere. I brought you home. Your home.
And yours, I guessed, putting the clues together. The cell you shared with Claim.
Hurry, Quibble! The phantom may guess you went here. He’ll come for you!
I sat on the bed and hung my head. So what if he does? I thought, not intoning but careless whether the glass heard me.
You ran from the dagger.
I was scared out of my wits. But maybe that dagger is the best thing for me, after all.
There passed a long moment of silence in which the amber glass grew hot in my hand, and then Meissa said, I've had just about enough of you!
Excuse me?
You're a weakling, a coward! Do you really think you suffer? I was forced to kill my faithfulness. Definition’s son was fed to the jaws of wolves. And you think your loss is too great to bear? You hardly know what loss is, Quibble. On your damn feet! Move!
Stunned, I stood. What first? I asked.
Look at yourself!
I looked down. All my clothes were bloodstained. All right, fresh clothes. I threw my pack on the bed, stripped to the waist, and rummaged in Nell’s wardrobe for a fresh tunic. I could find no leggings that fit me; my own would have to serve. Much as I liked the vest, it was past saving. Where would I keep my glasses? The protégé’s cloak! I had packed it for some reason that escaped me now. Fishing it out, I slipped the blue glass Alnasl had given me into the left pocket, then threw it about my shoulders and relit the fire from its coals to burn the bloody tunic and vest. What next?
Food? Water? prompted Meissa.
A loaf of bread and a full jug were in the pack. If I intended to slip off unnoticed, it was unwise to visit the kitchen. Both Ell and Nell were loose-lipped Dazed.
Then you just need a plan, a place to hide. Go see Indication.
I’ve got to do something else first.
What?
Take care of Nish.
This early on the song, I supposed she was in the chapel, singing, but I couldn't go there without announcing my presence to all the Dazed. Anyway, there was no time for talking or a tearful reunion.
Taking the volume of Swift from my pack, I removed the torn flyleaf, hurried to Nell’s desk, and found quill and ink. I wrote a note on the blank side of the flyleaf, sprinkled pounce on the page, shook it a bit, blew it dry, folded it. Opening the book, I slid it in between the frontispiece and title page. Then I shouldered my pack and raced through the dormitory’s corridors to Nish’s room. The door was ajar. I pulled back the coverlet on her bed, put the book where it wouldn’t be missed, and replaced the coverlet without tucking it in. Leaving, I shut the door behind me. I hoped Nish and no one else would see the intrusion’s clues.
From the chapel came the sound of Dazed lifting their voices in choir as I raced across the cloister. Cate was where I knew he would be: the library. The old man always spent the song there, lost in a book. He was startled when I opened the door and strode in. He put a finger in his book to mark his place, closed it, reached for a crutch, began to get up. I showed my open hand, urging him to stay put, and took the chair next to his without slinging off the pack again.
“What in kindness, Quill?” he said. “Does Nish know you’re back?”
“She will. I’m not staying. I’ve got a Zero on my tail.”
“The lord of control?”
“Worse. Alioth is dead. The Zero chasing me killed him. His name is Asuja. He’s an adept of utter control. I don’t think Alnasl can protect me from him. Where the array is, I don’t know now. I need a place to hide, but not here. Where can I go to?”
Cate brooded, tapping fingers on the armrest. “The other side of the mountain is the only place I can think of. With Glossary, the hermit. Zeros don’t go there – too near the Vale of Teeth. And if you go there, don’t you venture into that vale either!”
“Can Quote take me?”
“No, he’s hunting. Has Cobweb with him. We need Peas-blossom here. Harvest is coming early. You’re stuck with Moth.”
“That’s fine. We get along.” Unlike Cobweb, a quarter horse young yet and able to leap a rail fence, Moth was strictly a draft horse, but he would take the saddle, and he could even gallop if convinced speed was needed. “Tell me the way.”
“Up through the High Meadow. Skirt the woods there, so you’re not seen. Come over the mountain’s south shoulder, then tack left, north a while. The going’s rough, so you’ll have to lead Moth. Look for chimney smoke below you. When you see it, strike out southeast across the valley. If you don’t see it, Gloss is out hunting. In that case—”
Cate shrugged.
“I don’t know what then, Quill. Just don’t go too far around the mountain. And don’t go down into the valley due east of it – that’s the vale. What happened?”
“Everything you can imagine. I don’t have time to tell you all about it. But you were right: Vega isn’t to be trusted. If she comes – if any of them come, say nothing. And don’t tell Nish where I am, either, not until things die down! I can’t have Asuja tracking her.”
“Understood.”
I gave the Dazed’s hand a quick squeeze. “Thank you, Cate.”
He called me when I was almost at the door. Turning, I let a skance show haste. He was looking at me dead-on, though, so I returned his stare.
“Your adroitness was hot as hell about how you treated her, but she misses you,” he said. “Do her and me both a favor, will you? Stay alive.”
I nodded and hurried out, making my way now to the stable. Saddling and bridling a horse had never seemed such a finicky, time-consuming task. At last I led Moth out of the stable, swung myself up in the saddle, and bent close over his neck to whisper: “All right, Moth, give me all you’ve got!”
I dug my heels into his sides, and together we tore out of the monastery’s south gate, hellbent for very far away from anywhere else.
At the top of the High Meadow, having put some three miles behind us, I reined Moth in for a rest and let him graze. I wanted to put the bulk of the mountain between me and all the Zeros who sought me now, but the terrain ahead would be hard going, Cate had warned, and I was wary of playing Moth out.
We were very near the timberline, but the meadow, facing south and catching sun, was abuzz with life. A fox wagged its umber tail above the tall grass like a waving hand. Starlings burst up into the sky, a murmuration, and far overhead a falcon soared, perhaps planning to stoop on them. I sat just outside a stunted fir’s shade and watched an inchworm wiggle up a dandelion.
Finding the amber in my hand, I held it up alongside the inchworm, comparing their colors. The glass, resembling a cat’s eye, was translucent and chatoyant, refracting sunlight in a single milky ray on its surface. The ray’s color altered as I tilted the amber: bluish-white, greenish-white, pink. Now the amber blazed like a star, and fearing I may be showing myself to onlookers as plainly as if I caught sunlight in a mirror, I closed my hand over the glass. Still think I’m a rock? it asked.
Kindness, are you still peeved about that? No, you’re not a rock. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before, Meissa. I know I’m a coward, but I didn’t think of how selfish I was being. What a scrape I got the vision into! Do you think he’s alive?
I hope so. Shall we try intoning for him?
No! There’s no telling what that phantom Zero can do, and I’d rather not broadcast where I am. We’re playing it safe for a while. No intoning, no popping. We’ll espy only at need. Just advise me, all right?
All right. But do me a kindness in return. When we reach Glossary’s cabin, please don’t put me away for caution’s sake. Don’t shut me up in a box somewhere!
I remembered Meissa’s ordeal in prison, the eternal darkness there, and the fate of the Numberless. With a pang of guilt, I recalled all the times I’d deliberately withheld touch from the amber, leaving Meissa in the dark. I won’t, I promised her.
Beyond the wooded hump on the mountain’s southern face, I brought Moth around north. The trees thinned out, eventually giving way to scree in the mountain’s rain shadow. Vegetation was sparse. There was no trail to guide us or make the going easier. Soon the scree became too steep and dangerous to traverse on horseback – a fall might be deadly. I dismounted and led Moth. Scanning the valley and the surrounding mountains’ skyline for smoke, I saw none.
I should have made Cate draw me a map! There’s no going back for it now.
Then let’s espy, Meissa suggested, but doing so turned up nothing new, only trees, rocks, mountain, and sky. The only living thing in any direction was aloft above us, the falcon which had followed us over the mountain from the High Meadow. It pirouetted on the wind, catching thermals. Was that Chapter, still spying on me?
I led Moth on, picking a path slowly over the face of the scree. The sun had fallen behind the mountain several hours ago. Now shadows deepened and cold set in on us – evening at long last. I disliked camping on the scree – it lay exposed to wind and would be a terribly hard bed – but without the sun I was unsure how far I had come, whether downhill was now due east. The amber proved itself a poor compass, especially since it had referenced no night-door in the locale. Until sunrise, we were lost. I found a flattish patch of ground and pitched the pup tent. I hadn’t thought to gather firewood where it was abundant, and now it would be unsafe to go scrambling over the scree in the dark in search of deadwood.
“Sorry, Moth, it’s not much of a spot,” I told the horse.
He nickered indifferently. Sitting on hard ground, munching bread, I felt totally alone for the first time in my life. For consensus, I had a horse, the relic of a long-dead Zero, nobody else. The moon, now nearly at its first quarter, shone over the mountain’s rim. Stars emerged to peek at me. Space yawned Without.
The crimson sun locked me in dream. Pain, touch, a thing – no escape. I gasped for breath. No breath, either. My face! I tried to remember the mirror, but I couldn’t make it appear. I floated Within, bodiless, faceless, a mere icon in the story light told.
“Pitiful Quibble,” bellowed Unity all around me. “Your objection has been noted, for what little it’s worth. Yet you persist? Why? I have utter control.”
No, you don’t! I excelled your control once. I’ll do it again. My life is my own!
“Senseless! Control is life, Quibble. Life is but dream, and you are but a shadow within it. I am the heart of dreaming. Yield to me!”
That’s only scripture: “Life’s but a walking shadow.” I know better, Unity!
“Yield.”
I woke with shivers coursing through me and a scream dying on my lips. Caught between a jagged horizon and a scrim of lowering clouds, the sun burned crimson. I sat up, stiff and sore all over, still shivering in spite of my cloak. The tent was nowhere to be seen; it had blown away sometime in the night. I looked around in panic, then saw Moth on the scree downhill, nibbling at a lone stand of weeds.
As soon as I stood up, I felt someone’s eyes on me. Chancing it, I espied in negative: the light gray of the scree flashed to dark gray, Moth’s light brown flank to teal, the green of the trees below to maroon. On the very edge of espying, true to its real color, an amber blur outlined a person’s rough shape on a mountainside across the valley.
I quickly took my fingers from my amber, praying I hadn’t revealed myself. In vain, I knew. Of course I’d revealed myself: that blurry outline meant the Zero was using his amber glass, likely espying himself. I’d seen him, so chances were good he’d seen me, too.
Facing the mountain on which I stood, I aligned my left arm with its peak and then slowly turned to align my right arm with the sun. It made an acute angle, something close to forty-five degrees. If my geometry was correct, I stood on the mountain’s southeast face. Here the mountainside fell away gently below the scree into a narrow valley forested with fir and spruce. Still there was no sign of smoke.
Pulling my cloak tight against the wind, I picked a cautious way down the slope to Moth, dropping his saddle and falling backwards on my hands a few times as rocks slipped under my feet. By the time I reached the horse, my palms were peppered with scrapes, some bleeding. I gingerly brushed and licked them clean. Moth took bit, bridle, and saddle with not even a neigh. That job done, I looked around again and sighed.
No smoke, no sign of the cabin or a clearing. A Zero across the valley who had seen me as well as I saw him. Recalling how I had espied the phantom on the hill – only a faint amber sphere, no human form – I doubted the Zero across the valley was Asuja. On the hunt for me now, he wouldn’t show himself clearly, would he?
Lingering, unable to make up my mind, I jolted at the sound of a screech pealing just above me and looked up. Down fluttered the following falcon to alight on the horn of Moth’s saddle. There was now no mistaking Chapter, a bird nearly two feet from tail to beak with a crown of creamy feathers streaked finely with gray. Narrow white bands zigzagged between slate-gray, heart-shaped marks on his wings, which he spread wide to show a breast of brilliant white stippled with brownish-gray diamonds. He looked at me with mild curiosity. Surprised yet delighted to see him, I was about to reach out my wrist and beckon him to it when a picture of Quote’s scars sprang to mind. Letting the bird stay put, I stroked his throat and chest with the backs of my fingers.
“Well now, Chap, what do you think? Down we go?”
As if to answer me, the silver gyrfalcon let out a short series of chirps punctuated by a shrill cry, then dove from the saddle horn. Skirting the face of the scree, he glided in long, leisurely swoops to and fro, with each pass descending a hundred feet or more.
I suppose that’s a yes. All right, Chap, lead the way.
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