Luna was in touch with sundry professionals, and set the new group up with a bookkeeper who would stay in touch and handle their bookings and records. She was Mrs. Glotch, a grandmotherly woman of unquestioned competence and integrity. She refused to travel, but would be on constant call, and would update them whenever they called in. If an emergency arose, she would search them out; Luna gave Orb a stone that would serve as a beacon, so that Mrs. Glotch could always locate her geographically.
But how would they travel? The boys had blithely assumed that they would rent a bus and fit it out with beds and a kitchen, so they could live on the road. "No way I get in that bus!" Lou-Mae declared. "I'm a good girl!"
Orb was less concerned about her morals or safety, because of her amulet, but shared the girl's disinclination for this type of travel. "Why not use commercial transport and hotels?" she asked.
"You know what they cost!" the drummer demanded. "And I won't trust my organ to shipping," the organist added, "It'd arrive broken, in the wrong city."
"It sure would!" the guitarist exclaimed, and he and the drummer broke into crude laughter, while the organist looked nettled.
Orb exchanged a glance with Lou-Mae. Had they missed something? Then Orb realized that there was more than one meaning of the word "organ," and caught the point.
They did seem to have a case. Money should be no problem, with the bookings they could now get, but the problems of shipping were notorious. They needed their own transportation.
They considered renting a railway car, but the ones they were shown were ancient and bug-ridden, and the tracks did not go to many cities, and schedules were erratic. They considered a private airplane, but the cost was horrendous, and the chambers crowded; in addition, the guitarist was afraid to fly. They considered a mobile home, but Lou-Mae declared that to be little more than a mobile bedroom and would have no part of it.
Luna hated to admit it, but the boys' original notion of a revamped bus seemed to be the only feasible mode. But Lou-Mae remained adamant; she had a thing against buses, somehow believing that she would be confined to the rear if not actually molested. "But I'll see that no one bothers you," the drummer assured her. "You're the one I'm afraid of, Danny-Boy!" she retorted. Then she kissed him.
The others nodded. Lou-Mae had liked the drummer ever since that first song together and had dubbed him Danny-Boy after their success with Londonderry Air. But she regarded it a sin to be intimate with a man outside of marriage, and a lesser sin to have the opportunity for such intimacy, even if it was scrupulously avoided. She was, perhaps, afraid of herself. She represented an ideal standard, and the boys respected that without quite understanding it. The bus was out. But what else offered?
"There is magic," Luna said. "A big carpet—"
"Not on your life!" the guitarist exclaimed. "We'd be blown off!" His fear of flying seemed worse with the prospect of an open carpet.
"Or a dragon-drawn wagon—"
"Can't trust a dragon," the organist asserted. "Those reptiles are only waiting their chance to turn and toast you. Half of 'em hid out in Hell when magic was banned, and the evil never did get out of 'em. Sure, the drivers use safety spells, but spells can glitch."
"Perhaps unicorns, then."
"They can't be controlled," the drummer said. " 'Cept by a—" He paused, his eye turning on Lou-Mae. "Then again—"
"I always adored unicorns," the black girl confessed. "Yeah, but if she—if something happened to—where'd we be then?" the organist demanded, looking sternly at the drummer. "Way out nowhere with a pair of enraged unicorns!"
"What do you mean, if something happened" Lou-Mae exclaimed angrily. "I tell you, nothing could—" But then she looked at the drummer, who was trying to stifle a blush. "I mean, nothing would—well, not likely, anyway." Now she seemed to be attempting her own blush, though her dark skin protected her. "Maybe we'd better pass on the unicorns."
"Maybe I'd better consult with the local Gypsies," Orb said. "They surely know how to travel with baggage."
"You're a Gypsy?" the guitarist inquired. "I always thought it would be nice to live in wagons and rip off the... I mean—"
Orb smiled. "Gypsies do what they have to, to survive. They aren't bad people, but they don't like to be tied down."
"I know the feelin'," he said.
"Come with me, if you want, and we'll see what they have to say."
"Well, sure, okay!" he agreed, pleased.
Orb's carpet would hold two in a pinch, but there was no way the guitarist would get on it, so they took a taxi to the next township, where a band of Gypsies was passing. They decided to take their instruments along, because Gypsies always responded to music.
It was a disappointment. These Gypsies wore ragged but conventional clothes and drove battered cars. On top of that, they were surly and suspicious of strangers. "Get away from here, woman," one snapped. "We've got trouble enough."
"But I have lived among you, in Europe!" she said. "I speak the language!"
"Yeah? Speak the language."
"I am looking for good transportation," she said in Calo.
They looked blankly at her. Then one old woman nodded. "It's the old tongue," she said. "But we've almost forgotten it, here, and the young ones never teamed it."
"Oh." Orb tried to mask her disappointment. "But perhaps you can help me anyway. All I want is information on—"
"You can't use a car or carpet?"
"We have a group of five, with instruments. One won't ride a bus, and one won't fly. We'd prefer to travel together, if we can agree on how to do it."
"You know Gypsy ways?"
"As I said, in Europe—"
"Can you dance?"
Oh. "I know the tanana," Orb said guardedly. "But—"
The woman laughed. "But you can't dance it! You'd die of shame. Because you're not a Gypsy, just an observer."
"That's right. But I do respect the Gypsy ways, though they are not mine. Can you help me?"
"Maybe, girl, maybe. You know of Jonah?" 'Who?"
"The fish that swallowed Jonah."
"Oh, you mean the whale? In the Bible?"
"The fish. He was damned for that, but not in Hell. Damned to swim the air and earth, but never the water, until the Llano sets him free of his guilt."
"The Llano! You know of it?"
"Of it. Not much more. You seek it?"
"Yes!"
"Then you're in luck. Jonah may help you. He's sleeping in Clover Mountain. Call him out, do the dance, and if he likes you he'll swim for you. Most of the time."
"Afishfldoa't—"
"He's what you want, if you can win him over. We tried to get him, but we're not pure Gypsies anymore, and—"
"Move!" a man called. "They're comin'!"
Instantly the gypsies, men, women, and children, piled into their cars, and the cars cranked up, sputtered, and got moving. As this occurred, three trucks roared in, filled with men. They had shotguns, and looked angry.
"Get outta here, girl!" the old gypsy woman screamed at Orb as her car squealed away.
Two of the trucks careened after the fleeing Gypsies, the shotguns firing. The third skewed toward Orb and the guitarist.
"Run!" Orb cried, realizing the danger they were in.
They ran. They cut across a ragged field, but the truck pursued, bumping across ruts and churning up turf. "There's two!" a man yelled.
"Kill 'em!"
"Naw! One's a slut! Lay 'er first!"
They crossed a gully, then a ridge, and half-slid down the other side. The truck screamed to a halt, balked by the terrain. "Catch 'em afoot!" a man yelled. "They can't cross th' rapids!"
The rapids? Now Orb heard the sound of spuming water. Already her breath was rasping, and her side was developing a stitch. She stumbled, and the guitarist caught her and helped her along. "How'd we get into this?" he gasped.
"They must," she gasped, "have stolen a horse or a girl. Now they're scattering. But we—"
"Behind the eight-ball!" he finished. "But we're not Gypsies!"
"I think one of us will get raped and the other killed before they find out," she puffed. She was not at all certain that her amulet would protect her from this; it had never been tested against more than one person at a time.
He heaved out a laugh. "Wonder which'll get which?"
Then they came up against the rapids. The water charged past like an express train, throwing out spray. The bank dropped steeply to it, beset by rocks and boulders. There was no safe way across.
"The carpet!" Orb cried, wriggling out of her knapsack and dumping it on the ground. The little carpet unrolled immediately. "Get on!"
"I can't get on that!" he protested. "I can't fly!"
Now the pursuing men crested the hill. "There they are!"
The guitarist stood frozen, petrified by both alternatives. The men charged down the slope.
Orb grabbed her companion by the shoulders and shoved him onto the carpet. "Sit down!" she cried in his ear.
Numbed, he obeyed, holding his cased guitar in his arms before him. She jumped on behind him, spreading her legs to circle his body, putting her arms around him. She willed the carpet aloft.
It lifted as the first man arrived. "Hey!" the man cried as the carpet with its burden almost banged into him. Then he grabbed for it.
Orb swung out with her left arm, cracking him on the neck. She did it without thinking and was appalled at herself even as the shock ran up her arm. Then she willed the carpet out toward the river, gaining effective elevation in a hurry as the land dropped away.
The guitarist stared down. "Geez!" he exclaimed, and tried to scramble off the carpet.
"Stop it!" Orb hissed into the back of his head. "You'll overbalance it!" Indeed, the carpet, overloaded, was already tilting scarily.
The guitarist tried to shrink into himself. "Worse'n a bad trip!" He shuddered.
"Just shut your eyes and keep still!" Now they were over the turbulent water, sinking slowly. The carpet was doing its best, but double weight was too much for it.
"Don't let 'em get away!" a man cried.
Orb didn't dare look back. She urged the carpet on across. It obeyed unsteadily.
There was a bang. They were shooting! Orb did what she had to do—she guided the carpet slightly down and forward, so that it could gain velocity in the descent.
"Aaaahh!" the guitarist cried as the bottom seemed to drop out. "Geez Keerist!"
Orb clapped her hands over his eyes, as if shielding a baby from a bright light. "Relax, it's all right, relax," she said. She felt moisture on her fingers: he was crying. Then she hugged him.
It worked. He relaxed slightly, feeling somewhat secure in her embrace.
Another shot sounded. Then the carpet cut through the spume at the water's verge, seemed virtually to skip the surface, and plowed into the far bank. They tumbled off, brought up short by the slope.
A third shot sounded, and there was the thud of something striking the bank nearby. At least they weren't good marksmen!
"Go there!" Orb cried, hauling on the man, shoving him in the right direction. He scrambled as directed, and they dived behind a great spray of water from a boulder in the river, finding cover from the party on the other side. They were safe for the moment.
The guitarist stared at the river. "You should have left me," he husked. "I almost got you killed."
"I couldn't do that!" Orb exclaimed indignantly.
"You know I'm worthless, hooked on H. Wouldn't have been much loss."
"Now stop that!" she snapped. "You—" But there wasn't much encouragement she could make, because he really did not have much to recommend him. "You're a fine musician."
"I'm a zilch musician! Only time I play well is when you're spreading your magic. That's you, not me." He pondered a moment. "But I'll make it up to you somehow, I swear! What little I am, I owe to you, and my life, too."
"I'll be satisfied if you just get off the H."
He rolled over and put his face in the ground. "God! If only I could!"
"You can't just stop?"
"You don't know what it's like!"
"You're right, I don't. If I wanted to stop a thing, I would simply stop it, I think."
He lifted his face to stare at her. Dirt crusted it; he looked almost like a zombie. Then, with a convulsive movement, he reached into a pocket and brought out a packet. "Then take it! It's all I've got! Don't let me have it!"
Orb took the packet with a certain revulsion. "Your life is ruined for this?"
"You got it, sister."
Orb tucked the packet away. "Then I will hold it for you. I will be pleased if you never ask for it back."
He did not reply. He simply set his face back in the dirt.
After a time the pursuers gave up, as they were unable to cross the river. Orb heard their truck departing. However, she had not spent time with the gypsies without learning a trick or two. "I think we had better not cross back," she said. "Someone could be lurking."
"Right," the guitarist said, relieved. He did not want to be airborne again. He recovered his instrument and shouldered the strap.
Orb considered. "I think I might climb this bank, but I would prefer to use my carpet. If you prefer to climb—"
"Gotcha," he said, and began to scramble up.
Orb settled on the carpet with her harp and his guitar and willed herself aloft. Now the carpet responded alertly, having recovered from its prior overload. Soon she was at the top, watching the guitarist catch up.
"Now I am not sure just where we are," she said. "But it would be foolhardy to try to return to our taxi, even if it weren't for the river, and I rather suspect that the nearby town would not be safe for us either. I think we would do best to go in an unexpected direction."
"Like what?"
"Like Clover Mountain. It must be near here. To find the fish."
"I'm game," he said.
"Why don't I continue carrying your guitar on the carpet, leaving you free to walk?" she suggested.
He was glad to agree; he did not want to get on the carpet again. He dusted himself off, and she floated up to about head height. "The mountain, slowly," she said to the carpet, speaking aloud for the guitarist's benefit.
The carpet quivered, reorienting. Then it set off roughly north. Orb was relieved that this was not toward the river.
"It knows?" the guitarist asked. "Just like that?"
"It can follow simple directives, yes," she said. "I don't know where the Clover Mountain is, but it can zero in on any identified location. It's very handy that way."
"Magic is nice," he agreed.
She floated at a walking pace, and he walked. The terrain was uneven but not rugged, now that they were away from the river. They made decent progress and in an hour reached the foot of the mountain. It was now late afternoon; there would be time to verify whether the fish was here. Orb really did not know what to expect.
"I suppose I should just call him," she said. "Then, if he appears, I'll have to, er, dance."
"What's so bad about dancing?"
"It is a rather special sort of dance." She nerved herself, then put her hands to her mouth and called "Jonah!"
There was a vibration in the mountain. For a moment Orb was afraid that a tremor or earthquake was starting. Then something brownish and monstrous swam out of the slope and into the air.
The two of them stared. It was a giant fish—swimming through rock and air as if both were water. The Gypsy woman had spoken truly!
The fish slowly circled in the air, then came to hover before Orb. It waited.
Orb was suddenly abashed. "I never really thought—what can I do now?"
"Dance," the guitarist said, his voice rough.
She looked at him—and was surprised. He looked haggard. "What happened to you? If I had realized the walk was so hard on you—"
" 'Snot that. I'm outta condition, but—" he shrugged.
She caught on. "The H! You're suffering withdrawal!"
"You got it, sister."
"You look awful!"
"I feel awful. But there's no way to do it but to do it. You better get dancing before that fish gets mad."
"Oh. Yes. But—"
"You need music," he said. "And you can't play your harp, 'cause you're dancing. That's where I come in." He was taking out his guitar.
He started to play, but his hands were trembling so badly that the notes were horrors of discordance. He concentrated, but still could not do it. His face was ashen.
"How can you be so far gone, so quickly?" Orb asked, appalled.
"S-spelled H is fast," he said, his teeth chattering.
It sounded like a stutter, and that did something to Orb. She had loved a stutterer! "Take it!" she cried, flinging the packet at him. Her endurance had been less than his, and she hadn't even been the one experiencing it!
He pounced on it. "Geez, I tried, I tried!" he muttered. "But H just don't let go!" He took a pinch of the powder in the packet and brought it to his nose and sniffed.
The effect was remarkable. In a few seconds his countenance cleared, and his breathing subsided. He took up the guitar and strummed, and the chord was perfect. "What song?"
"Any song," Orb said. "What I'm about to do is almost as hard for me as staying off the H was for you."
"Yeh." He played, and the sound was good, though not with the magic Orb had.
Yet she needed magic! She knew that she had to do a dance that would convince the big fish she was a Gypsy, and her natural resistance to the appalling suggestiveness of the dance would destroy the effect, for true Gypsies were uninhibited about sexual matters. Magic could enable her to do it.
"Magic!" she said urgently to the guitarist.
He shook his head. "I told you, I'm nothing by myself. When you're singing and playing, it comes, but—"
"Let it come!" she hissed, taking hold of his shoulder and shaking it.
Suddenly there was magic in his playing. Her touch had done it. The notes of the guitar made the very ground resonate, and the grass of the slope and the leaves of the nearby trees swayed to the beat. The monstrous body of the fish quivered, responding to it.
She removed her hand. There seemed almost to be a band of electricity connecting them, and the magic continued. Only one guitar was playing, physically, but it seemed like a thousand. "Geez," the guitarist murmured under his breath.
The fish still hovered, watching. Orb arranged her clothing, hitching up her skirt and tightening her blouse, making her body more salacious than she cared to. But this was the way of the tanana, and she had to do it.
Then she went into the dance, treating the fish as a partner, imagining it to be a dark Gypsy man who matched her moves with his own. She expected to be stiff, for she was tired and this was a dance she had never expected to do before any audience whatever, but the rhythm of it caught her up, and she found herself performing. She was a Gypsy lass, dancing to provoke a man to passion!
She thrust out her hip, turned, and shot a sidelong glance at him, inhaled, whirled, and moved her hips again. Body and glance, leap and pose, breast and buttock and whirling hair—the tanana was taking her where it would, inciting the erotic response. She had never before felt so completely wanton, not even when in the act of love itself; the suggestion was more potent than the reality. She became shameless, inviting, lascivious, assuming poses that would have completely alienated her if performed by another. It was the tanana! At last, exhausted and exhilarated, she finished. She had done her best and her worst; let the fish make of it what it might. The guitarist let the last note fade, his eyes locked on Orb, his jaw slack; he seemed mesmerized.
"And we want to find the Llano," she gasped as she stopped.
The fish considered. Then it descended slowly to the level of the ground, and slightly below it, so that its mouth was flush with the earth. Its body overlapped without seeming resistance; there seemed to be no reality of soil for it, just the psychic water in which it swam.
It opened its mouth. Its throat was a vast long cave, dry and bright.
"We're supposed—to go in?" Orb asked, amazed. "To be swallowed by the fish?"
Jonah merely waited. "Better do it," the guitarist said. "The thing could snap us up quickly enough any time it wanted to." He seemed much less affected by this than by the spectacle of the dance.
They entered the monstrous mouth, carrying their instruments and the carpet. They walked down the cave.
Deep within, it opened into a lighted chamber. There were projections that resembled chairs and tables and even couches.
The guitarist plumped down in one. "Home, James!" he said.
The fish moved. Orb hastily took a seat by the wall. The scales here were translucent; she could see out.
The landscape outside was moving. Rather, Jonah was moving, swimming through air, smoothly traversing the route.
"We're flying," Orb said. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"We're swimming," the guitarist said. "That doesn't bother me. I feel safe, here."
Surprisingly quickly, they arrived at the city. Orb peered out, looking at the people, but the people seemed to be unaware of the huge fish. As with Mortis the horse, it was in effect invisible to ordinary folk.
Jonah nudged up to Luna's estate and stopped. The two griffins flew up, squawking alarm. The fish ignored them; to it they were like flies, beneath notice.
Orb walked up the hallway that was the throat. The mouth opened, and she stood looking down on the grounds. "It's all right!" she called.
The griffins recognized her, doing twin double-takes, then settled down.
The guitarist approached, took one look out the mouth, and backed away. "Maybe you can have it go down," he said.
"Oh. Yes," Orb agreed. She had been so intrigued by the situation that she hadn't thought of the obvious. "Down, Jonah, if you please."
The fish slowly sank, coming to rest in alignment with the lawn. They stopped out as Luna appeared.
"Well," Luna said. "You seem to have found your transportation."
"We seem to," Orb agreed. "Jonah, this is Luna; Luna, meet Jonah."
"So pleased to make your acquaintance," Luna said formally. The fish made the slightest wiggle of a fin; perhaps that was acknowledgement.
"The Gypsies told us about him," Orb explained. "He is looking for the Llano, too."
"Yes. I did some spot research when I realized how you were approaching. But you know this fish is not completely reliable."
"But not dangerous?"
"Not to you or those you accept. It's just that this is not a servant, but rather an ally, and sometimes your interests may not coincide. I wasn't able to ascertain more than that."
"Sometimes I wish our futures weren't clouded," Orb muttered. "Then we could read them for ourselves and avoid a lot of mischief."
"It is a necessary protection, I'm sure," Luna said. "My father seldom made errors in judgment about magical matters." She contemplated the huge fish a moment more. "Well, let's get your things moved in."
"Just like that?" Orb inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Mrs. Glotch has bookings piling up; I told her to start scheduling them, because you have solved the problem of transportation."
"You have confidence in us, Moth!" Orb said, smiling.
"Of course I do, Eyeball!" Luna agreed. Then they exchanged a sisterly hug.
They moved Orb's things in. The big fish turned out to have a number of compartments separated by bony walls that served nicely as private rooms, and there was a lavatory region in the tail that had running water and a facility for the disposal of wastes. It seemed that somewhere along the way, someone had gone to some trouble to outfit Jonah for human comfort.
"But how does he eat?" Orb asked.
"It seems he doesn't need to eat. He is magically suspended, until he obtains his release and can die."
"Does that mean we had better not be inside him when we find the Llano?"
Luna laughed. "Perhaps so! But first find your song."
The boys moved in that evening, the fish moored beside their apartment complex. No outsiders seemed to notice the oddity of the procedure. They simply carried their bags and equipment into the mouth and returned for more, as if loading a moving van. They left it to Mrs. Glotch to settle their accounts with the renter; they were checking out.
Orb, fatigued, slept early. Her bed consisted of a section of her chamber floor that was marvelously soft and comfortable and tended to shape itself somewhat to her contours without being obsequious about it. There were some definite advantages to traveling in a living creature!
She woke in the night, hearing voices. Still dazed, she lay still and listened. The voices seemed to be close, yet there was no one in her room. Soon she realized that the bony structure of the fish was transmitting them, so that she could clearly hear what was said elsewhere. Yet that had not been the case before; the noise of the boys and Lou-Mae setting up their rooms had been blessedly muted.
"You flew!" the organist's voice demanded incredulously. "On her carpet?"
"I was scared stiff," the guitarist responded. "But like I said, those townsmen were after us, thinking we were the Gypsies, and the river—"
"But that carpet only holds one!"
"She sort of put me in front, and she got on behind, and put her arms around me, and her legs around me—"
"Man!" the drummer exclaimed. "You were between her legs?"
"I guess. I was so scared, I never noticed. That river—"
"Let's get this straight," the drummer said. "You were hunched up like this, and she was behind you like this, on that li'l carpet? Her boobs pressed up against your back, and her thighs—"
"Damn it, don't make it like that! She saved my stupid life! I was so far out of it, all I saw was that damn river, till she put her hands on my eyes and sort of calmed me down."
"Damn, if it'd been me—"
"Yeah?" the guitarist asked challengingly. "And what of your black chick?"
"Listen, man, don't call her no—"
"Well, don't make like there's any dirt between me and Orb!" the guitarist retorted. "She don't give a shit for me, she just wanted to save my worthless life and maybe get me off the H. And you know, I was off it maybe three hours, 'cause I was just starting to feel the pang when I gave her the stuff, and it was a good hour after that. But I couldn't do it; I couldn't get the shakes outta my hands, and I had to play. 'Cause she had to dance, and..."
"She danced?"
"And how! I never saw the like! Seems she had to prove she was a Gypsy, for the fish, and this Gypsy dance—whew! I never saw a porno tape better'n that! The way she threw that stuff around, I like to've busted a string!"
"Her?" the drummer said derisively. "She'd spook if she even knew how her skirt hikes up when she's on the harp, showing her gams. She thinks sex appeal's a crime!"
"Just don't forget," the organist said, "we need her. Without her, we're nothing. Forget her skirt!"
"You forget her skirt!" the drummer retorted. "I sit right opposite her when we practice. She's got the best damn legs—"
"She's got the best damn everything," the organist said. "Think I'm blind? I'm half behind her, and sometimes I see down her blouse, and you think I don't drool? But it's ten times all the luck we ever deserved that she joined us, and we don't none of us want to do anything at all to sour her. Keep your hot eyes on your music."
"Yeh," the drummer agreed. "But my point is, we know she'd never do that kind of dance. She's got the body for it, no doubt at all, but not the mind."
"But she did it," the guitarist insisted. "I tell you, I was on a new sniff, so maybe you think I saw more'n there was, but—"
"On a sniff? H don't pack much punch that way!"
"You think I was going to shoot up in front of her? It got the edge off, anyway, so I could feel my strings and play. I tell you, she may be dowdy with us, but when she lets go with it, hang on to the moon! I've seen some real hot dances, but that one she did—if they could bottle that stuff, man of a hundred and ten could have the potency of—"
"So our beautiful prude ain't so prudish somewhere else," the drummer said thoughtfully. "I wonder why she wants the Llano? I mean, we need it to get off the H, but she's already got everythin' any man or woman'd want. What's she need it for?"
"Just be glad she does want it," the organist said. "She's one good woman, and we're sludge. Just let her be."
"One good woman," the guitarist echoed. "I'd be dead now if she weren't."
"So are we going to get this room shaped up, or not?" the drummer demanded.
The last comment was fading, and thereafter there was nothing. Orb could hear the bustle of their labors when she concentrated, but their voices no longer come through to her.
She lay awake, wondering about that. What a coincidence that the reception had been so good, just when they were talking about her! The sound of their voices had awakened her; perhaps they had been talking for some time before she listened. Yet it had faded when their subject changed.
Coincidence? She wished she had the little snake ring again, to squeeze yes or no to that question. She was in another magical creature, and maybe... There was a quiet knock at her portal. "You up, Orb?"
"Awake, anyway," Orb said. "Come in, Lou-Mae."
"I hate to bother you," the girl said. "But something fanny happened, and—"
"You heard voices?"
"How'd you know? I was lying there, drifting off, and then clear as day I heard the words 'black chick.' I knew it was me, and them talking about me. But all they said was—"
"Not to call you that," Orb finished.
"You heard, too? After that I listened, but I couldn't hear anything. But it—I mean, if I wasn't dreaming—"
"I think we have just learned another property of the big fish," Orb said. "When anybody talks about anybody, the other person hears. They mentioned you in the course of a conversation about me. So I heard somewhat more than you did."
"Then I'm not crazy!" Lou-Mae said, relieved.
"And neither am L But it occurs to me that we had best be quite careful what we say about others, while we are here."
Lou-Mae smiled knowingly. "Meanwhile, we sure can listen!"
Orb returned the smile. She liked Lou-Mae. "But tell me—is it true that my skirt shows too much leg when I play the harp?"
The girl considered. "I never thought about it, but you know, when you set cross-legged, I guess it could. You mean they were peeking?"
"Just noticing. I'd better change to slacks."
"Then they'd know you had caught on."
"Um. But if I don't—"
Lou-Mae brightened. "I'll give you a pair of slacks! Then you'll have to wear them, so's not to hurt my feelings, at least for practice."
"I would certainly not want to hurt your feelings, Lou-Mae," Orb said gravely.
"I wonder how long it'll be before they catch on?"
"That may depend on us," Orb said. Then they were silent, lest even that reference reach the appropriate ears and give it away.
Lou-Mae returned to her chamber. Orb lay awake for a time, pondering this and that. She had mixed feelings about the boys' assessment of her. Any woman, she realized, liked being considered beautiful, but not crudely. They saw "boobs" and "gams" while she would have preferred some more esthetic and less specific image. Still...
Meanwhile, she had learned something new about Jonah. She liked the big fish very well and was liking him better as she got to know his qualities.
In the morning the girls were up first, while the boys slept late. "You know, if we don't watch it, we're liable to wind up as cooks and housekeepers," Lou-Mae remarked. "Who's going to do the cooking?"
"Oopsy!" Orb exclaimed. "That never crossed my mind. We'd better hire a maid."
"We can do that the same time we go shopping."
"Shopping?"
"For slacks."
Orb laughed, remembering. That overheard dialogue did embarrass her; the notion that her thighs were being ogled while she played—she knew she should shrug it off, but she found she couldn't. She wanted to embarrass the boys the way they had embarrassed her, uncharitable as that attitude might be. But of course she couldn't.
Actually, they had no supplies for breakfast, so had to leave Jonah for it. The fish remained moored by Luna's estate. He descended at their behest, and they disembarked. Then Jonah slowly ascended to rooftop height again.
"But why don't people stare?" Lou-Mae asked.
"They can't see him, dear," Luna said. "He allows only selected people to see him. You are invisible inside him."
The girl shook her head. "That's hard to believe."
"Jonah," Luna called. "Would you show them how it works?"
The fish slowly faded from view. Then there was nothing but sky.
"That's easier to believe," Lou-Mae said.
Luna served them breakfast. Then Lou-Mae went shopping, and Orb went to the employment agency. Luna's connections helped her here, too; the man had a list of prospects waiting when she arrived.
"But you don't even know what I want!" she protested.
"A female cook and housekeeper, competent, discreet, and unattractive."
Orb paused, taken aback. That was what she had in mind, her pique at the boys making her want to bring in someone whose legs they would not ogle. She was abruptly ashamed of herself, but not enough to change the specifications. "I will talk to them."
"There is only one present at the moment," he said. "Interest fell off when the applicants were advised that an indefinite period of travel with young musicians was entailed."
"I can't think of why," Orb muttered with irony. "Well, let me see that one."
The woman was about fifty years old and looked worn. Her hair was straggly and her enthusiasm minimal. "Can you cook?" Orb asked.
"Fantastically."
"Keep house?"
"Perfectly."
"What kind of salary are you looking for?"
"Nominal."
"You know that we are traveling with three young musicians?"
"So?"
"And don't know our precise route, or when we will return here?"
"Yes."
All the answers were right, but Orb felt somewhat out of sorts. Why was this woman so obliging?
"You know that we will fire you if your representations prove to be untrue?"
"Yes."
"Why do you want this job?"
"I don't."
"What?"
"I don't."
"Then why did you apply?"
"It's better than nothing."
Such enthusiasm! Orb decided to try to jolt the woman into some more revealing statement. "We're looking for the Llano."
"Yes."
"You knew that?"
"Jonah wouldn't take you otherwise."
"How do you know of Jonah?"
The woman sighed. "If you ask me, I have to answer. But you won't like it."
"All the same, I think I'd better know." The complexion of this interview had changed entirely.
"I am of demon breed. I seek the Llano. When Jonah moved, I came. I can't find it myself, but maybe someone else could. I doubt you find it, but I have to look."
"Demon breed!" Orb exclaimed. "You are from Hell?"
"No. Some demons are earthbound. Cursed. The Llano can abate my curse."
"What is your curse?"
"You will not like my answer."
"Do you intend to harm me, or any of us?"
"No. I can not harm any mortal person."
"Then I can handle the answer."
"I must have relations with a man every hour of the night. Every hour adds an hour to my age."
"Relations?" Orb was amazed. "You mean—?"
"I am a succubus. I have no choice."
A fifty-year-old succubus! "You don't want to do it?"
"I hate it."
"Then why don't you stop?"
"The curse compels me."
Orb remembered the guitarist's attempt to stop taking H. For those afflicted, there was no way to stop. "Frankly, I'm not certain you would make a suitable employee."
"I do not sleep. I do exactly what I say. I am a perfect employee by day. By night my curse manifests. In the morning I am ten or twelve hours older. In another century I will be a hundred years old and still immortal, unless I find the Llano."
Orb experienced a stirring of sympathy. "How long have you been at this?"
"One century. By day I seem to age at half the mortal rate, because of the penalty of the night—but I can not die. You mortals can not know what a blessing death is."
Orb found that she believed this. "You are fifty years old, in your body, but still you must seduce a man every hour of the night?"
"I revert to my original form during those hours. All my aging is then—but it shows only by day."
Orb found her feelings mixed. She felt genuine sympathy for this creature, but was appalled by her nature. What would the three boys do, if—"
Delicious malice took over. "You're hired," she said. "What is your name?"
"Jezebel."
The boys were up and hungry by the time Orb returned with Jezebel. For some reason they had not disembarked to go to a fast-food station. "I can take care of that," Jezebel said. She snapped her fingers and a junk-food container appeared in her crooked arm. She handed it to the drummer. "Gorge," she said.
The three opened the package. Inside were hamburgers and bottles of cola: the ideal breakfast by their definition.
The drummer glanced at Orb. "How'd she know?"
"Jezebel understands musicians," Orb said. "She is to be our cook and housekeeper for the tour."
"She housekeeps, too?"
"I suspect you have not experienced her manner of keeping house," Orb said with a straight face.
The boys departed with their breakfast. Orb showed Jezebel to her chamber. "Or do you need one?"
"Certainly." Jezebel gestured, and a shelf of books appeared. "My library. I do a lot of reading in the off hours. I admit it's escapism, but it certainly beats the dull routine of my curse."
Orb glanced at the titles. They ran the gamut from the classics to the latest junk romance. A succubus read romance for escape? Well, why not? A succubus was a creature of sex, not romance. Like any woman, she was apt to find the former more readily than the latter, and less satisfying.
Lou-Mae returned with a package—slacks for Orb, her gift. "Why thank you, Lou-Mae!" Orb said, as if surprised. "I shall be sure to wear them!"
Mrs. Glotch showed up with an itinerary; she had set up a tour that circled the entire nation with reasonable dispatch. Every three to five days they had an engagement in a new location.
Mrs. Glotch had not before encountered the fish. Only with difficulty was she persuaded to visit Jonah even briefly. She glanced about the interior with vague disapproval and hastened back to her office in the normal world.
They commenced their tour. Orb bid farewell to Luna, saddened in much the manner she had been when they parted in Ireland, and entered Jonah. The great fish lifted high, oriented, and swam vigorously through the air toward the first city on the list. Orb was about to go to her room for a rest when the guitarist intercepted her. "Yes?" she inquired.
"I just wanted to say, uh, well maybe it's not..." he faltered.
"Is something the matter?"
"You know about the H."
"Of course. You know how I feel about that."
"Well, I'm trying to get off it, but—you know."
"I know." What was he trying to say?
"I haven't taken any since I got on the fish," he blurted.
That brought her up short. "I thought you had to take it every few hours. It has been a full day. Isn't that unusual?"
"Yeh. And the others haven't touched it either. We don't take it unless we have to, and..." He shrugged.
"Jonah!" she exclaimed. "Could it be—?"
"That's what I was thinking. Big magic fish, maybe he don't go for that sh—that stuff in him, you know?"
"If so, Jonah is an unmitigated blessing!" Orb exclaimed.
"That's why we didn't go out this morning. 'Cause if it's true, when we go out—"
"The craving will return," Orb finished. "I don't blame you. Fortunately we can remain within Jonah until—"
"Until we gotta perform," he said. "That scares me."
"Still, to be free of your addiction for all the rest of the time—I am very happy for you!"
He nodded. "And—I just wanted to say—to thank you for saving my life. I guess I owe you. I guess that's a bad debt, 'cause there's nothing I have or can do that you need, but—" He shrugged.
"I appreciate your thanks," Orb said, touched. "I am sure you will prove worthy. Give it time."
"Well, if we find the Llano—"
"Complete freedom," she agreed.
He left. Then she suffered a wave of doubt and regret. She had knowingly hired the succubus. When night came, what would become of the Sludge? At first they might take it as a blessing, but after a few hours...
But what could she do, now? She had hired; she did not feel free to fire. She should never have allowed her private pique over a remark about her legs to influence her this way!
Jezebel produced an excellent afternoon meal, wholesome and balanced. She set it up on the table-bone of the area they had designated as the dining room, requiring everyone to clean up and eat together formally. The boys had to go to the bathroom to comb their hair and clean their fingernails and change to better clothing.
Orb refrained from smiling; it seemed that the housekeeper had old-fashioned values, and they were not out of place here.
The boys stared at the food disapprovingly. "Potatoes?" the drummer inquired distastefully. "Milk?"
"And a fresh salad," Jezebel said. "Rule of the house while I'm here—one meal a day is going to be done right. The others you can have as you please."
Lou-Mae took the drummer's arm. She was fetching in a bright green knitted dress. "You can handle it, Danny."
He brightened. "You want it, baby, you got it. In fact, if you want to housekeep for me—"
"First you get off the H," she said firmly.
"I'm off the H!"
"Off the fish, off the H."
"Yeh," he said, looking crestfallen.
News spread quickly! Already Lou-Mae knew the effect Jonah had on addiction and was not deceived by it. The drummer had in his fashion just proposed to her, and she had responded with her condition—kick the habit first.
The guitarist's willingness to take to the air in Jonah that could also be the magic of the big fish! No more phobia.
They proceeded to their repast. Indeed, it was an excellent meal. They were becoming a family, thanks to what Orb would have deemed to be the most unlikely agency.
But when night came...
Before night came evening—and a storm loomed ahead. Suddenly Jonah lurched, changing course. "What's the matter?" Orb cried, as spent dishes slid to the floor. But then she remembered what Luna had told her: the fish was cursed to swim through every element but his own. Jonah could not handle water.
The storm was expanding, and new cells were forming to the sides and behind. Jonah would soon be trapped in rain. But the great fish had an answer: he dived. He threshed powerfully down through the air, entering the ground without pause, and darkness closed outside.
Darkness! Luna looked at Jezebel, who was washing glasses. But the woman was unchanged. Evidently it was night, not darkness, that did it. Which made sense; otherwise the simple expedient of keeping the lights on would eliminate the threat of the succubus.
But night was nevertheless approaching. Orb was increasingly uncomfortable. She knew she had done wrong and felt guilty. Still, she saw no way out.
The boys had a television set. They set it up in the main chamber and tuned in on their favorite programs, which to Orb seemed to consist of unremitting violence and eroticism with a smidgeon of humor thrown in. Well, maybe they were about to get what they deserved, after all.
Except that Lou-Mae was with them. If she were present when...
Orb looked at Jezebel—and her worst concern was verified. One moment the woman had been dowdy and fifty; the next, as the sun officially set at this spot of the globe, she was a sultry creature of twenty, in a provocative gown. The succubus had manifested.
But Jezebel continued washing glasses. Then she started in on the dishes. Her appearance had changed, but not her activity.
Orb joined her, drying the dishes and putting them away on the herringbone shelving that was part of Jonah's architecture. "Ah, Jezebel—" she began.
"Yes?"
Orb lost her nerve. She was liable to get her answer all too soon. "Where did all the food and dishes come from? Did you just conjure them?"
"I conjured the dishes from my collection," Jezebel said. "You're welcome to use them. The food has to be new, though, so that comes from local establishments."
"But—but then are we stealing from—?"
"No, Mrs. Glotch gets billed for it. I leave a receipt in place of the food, and they know where to get the money. Modern electronics is wonderful!"
They continued talking while they finished up the job. Then Jezebel paused, glancing down at herself. "Oops—I've changed! Night's here. I never noticed."
"You changed about half an hour ago," Orb said.
"Oh, I couldn't have! The curse—" She looked at her watch. "But it is! How can that be?"
"You mean you don't have to—?"
"No compulsion at all," Jezebel said wonderingly. "That never happened before."
"Jonah!" Orb exclaimed. "He nulls the H addiction! He must null other curses, too!"
"You mean I can actually relax at night? No added hours? No grimy men?"
"So it seems."
"I knew the big fish was a rare one, but I never knew that! What a—" She cut off abruptly, choking.
"What's the matter?" Orb asked, alarmed.
"Just certain words I can't say. I get associating with mortal folk, sometimes I forget. I tried to say, you know, that word you use for something good from a certain party."
"A blessing?"
"That's it. I guess the fish can null the involuntary stuff, but not the voluntary. I mean, I can choose what to say, so I don't have to say that word, so I still can't. Still, that's a little thing. The big thing is wonderful!"
Orb felt similarly relieved, albeit for different reason. She liked Jonah better yet.
Lou-Mae came out for a glass of water. She paused as she spied Jezebel. "Who are you?"
"This is Jezebel," Orb said. "Her appearance changes at night."
The girl's eyes narrowed. Evidently Jezebel reminded her of something other than a cook.
"I am a succubus," Jezebel said. "Recently retired. I have no interest in your man."
Lou-Mae's gaze flicked back toward the room where the boys were. She didn't trust this. "What's a creature like you want here?"
"I want the Llano. It will free me forever."
"I thought you said you were retired."
"By courtesy of Jonah. Outside I fear that is not the case. As with your man's problem."
The girl assessed that. "Then when we perform, you stay here."
"Gladly."
Lou-Mae thawed somewhat. "Why don't you come and watch the TV?"
"Is it worth watching?"
"Hardly."
"Good. That's the kind I like."
They went to the other room. Orb hesitated, then shrugged and joined them.
The drummer turned to look at Lou-Mae and spied Jezebel. His mouth fell open. The other two turned and stared.
"This is Jezebel," Lou-Mae said. "What are you staring at? Never seen a cook before?"
The drummer put his face back together and returned to the television. The organist and guitarist hesitated, then did the same. Jezebel paid them no attention at all; she was definitely not interested.
The night was quiet. In the morning Jezebel was back at age fifty, and breakfast was cooking.
"Say, Ms. Kaftan—" the succubus began.
"Orb."
"Very well. Have you noticed—"
"About the sounds here?" Orb finished. "I gather the boys were talking about you when they were alone."
"For an hour, it seemed! I was reading War and Peace since I don't sleep anyway; first time in my life I had the night to myself, and it was strange. Then these voices—those kids have some big ideas!"
"Are you sorry that your situation changed?"
"Never! All kids have big ideas, but none keep them long with me, and they aren't very original anyway. It was just that I couldn't understand why they said them in my hearing."
"Jonah lets the subject hear," Orb explained. "The boys didn't know you could hear."
"Nobody told them about this effect?"
"Now who would want to do a thing like that?"
Jezebel smiled. "All I wanted was the Llano. But this tour is beginning to be fun."
"Just don't talk about anybody," Orb said. "We're lucky they sleep soundly in the morning, or they would have heard this dialogue."
The succubus nodded, touching her finger to her lips.
The storm had passed, and Jonah was swimming in the sky again. He seemed to be doing about fifty kilometers per hour, which would get them to their first booking in plenty of time.
In midmorning they staged a rehearsal. Jezebel listened raptly from the rear of the room, obviously impressed. The group really got into it, running through their entire repertoire before pausing to consider new additions. They now had songs of every type, making it a variety show, with a number of them acted out in the manner of "Danny Boy." It seemed to Orb that the magic was getting stronger, though she cautioned herself that she might be imagining that.
Then Lou-Mae glanced out a window-scale. "It's dark!" she exclaimed.
Orb looked. "We're back underground!"
It took some time to verify it, but it seemed that Jonah had been listening, too, and had simply tuned out the outer world and sank blissfully down until they were horrendously deep under the earth. Yet there was no harm done; when they stopped their performance, the big fish forged back to the surface and resumed his travel toward their destination city.
"I suppose a person or creature has to be able to appreciate music in order to have any interest in the Llano," Orb said. That seemed to sum it up.