She managed not to speak and was glad she hadn’t when Edward turned back to her with a look of mild exasperation. “This just shows,” he said, “how important it is to keep questioning our reasons for believing things. It’s particularly important with traditional doctrines. Here were we in Arth all assuming, without question, that otherworld is a debased copy of ours, and the inhabitants of it some form of reptile — and why? Because some High Brother or Head Magus made inadequate observations centuries ago and decided it was so. And we acted on this assumption, and did our experiments, and never once thought to examine otherworld as we examine other universes. And now you tell me that you’re as human as I am. Judy, I’m ashamed — for Arth and for the Pentarchy — I truly am.”
Judy stared at him, feeling that radiance was breaking out all over her. She had hardly dared to believe that even Edward would take the news this way. “Edward, you’re amazing.”
Edward put a hand on each of her shoulders and gripped with the gentle grip that Judy, from the start, would have walked through fire for. “Why have you only told me this now, though?”
She hung her head again. This was the question she could not answer honestly. How could she tell him that this was the result of agitated planning in the women’s quarters? Roz demanded action. Flan and Helen wanted firm news about Zillah. Knowing Edward, Judy could not believe there were any hidden horrors in Arth and said so, whereupon Flan, to everyone’s surprise, burst into tears, and Roz loudly expressed her contempt of both of them. And Sandra surprised Judy, and Roz too, by telling Roz to shut her mouth until she knew what she was talking about. “See here, Judy,” Sandra said, “something’s wrong. No one’s seen Zillah or Marcus since yesterday, and no one will talk about them. Everyone’s suddenly busy with rituals all the time, and they’re beginning to look funny at me in Calculus. Suppose they found out about us? We need to know. Edward is High Horns’s friend. You go and ask him about Zillah and see what else you can pick up while you’re at it. You have to. It’s urgent.” The rest had agreed — though Judy felt that there was no need for Roz to add, “If you can conquer your passion enough to remember your mission, that is.”
Because of what Roz said, Judy resolved — in this newly discovered schoolgirl way of hers — that she would only ask Edward if she gave him important information herself first. That made it fair. And it did seem, from what the others said, that it was only a matter of time before someone in Arth guessed where the women were from. But not being able to tell Edward any of this, she hung her head and told him somethingelse that happened to be true.
“Because I love you. I didn’t want to be under false pretenses anymore.”
Edward kissed her. It was reverent and wondering. He had told her that if he had even suspected what it was like to love a woman, he would never have thought of joining the Brotherhood.
Eventually, still not feeling honest, Judy said, not sounding as casual as she would have liked, “By the way, have you any idea where Zillah and her little boy have got to? Nobody seems to know.”
The slightly austere look Judy had dreaded seeing came over Edward’s face. Much of it was guilt. He had once quite lustfully thought of Zillah before he came to know Judy. That felt like retroactive infidelity now. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about that,” he said. As far as he knew, Zillah, Josh, and Philo were still wandering about in the depths of Arth, somehow parrying all the magework used to find them. The only other explanation for their disappearance was, he had agreed with the High Head, plain impossible. So search parties were still looking. And for fear of the alarm and despondency it might spread, he could not tell Judy what havoc the truants seemed to be working upon the fundamental rhythms of Arth. But being reminded by this of his friend and his duty, Edward added reflectively, “I suppose I must tell the High Head that you all come from otherworld.”
“Oh, need you?” Judy said. She must, after all, have been relying on Edward not to react like any other High Brother, she saw. Roz was not going to forgive her for this.
“I do need to,” he said. “Arth has been laboring under false assumptions for centuries. The Magus will be glad to put that right.”
Glad, Judy thought, was not a word anyone but Edward would have chosen. In a dither of panic, she said, “When — when are you going to tell him?”
“Oh, when I next see him, I suppose,” Edward said vaguely. It had occurred to him, too, that glad might not properly describe his friend’s reaction. He might find Judy snatched away from him. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the vibrations settled down and Lawrence was in a better humor. “I shan’t see him until this evening anyway,” he said, consoling himself and Judy.
2
To Zillah, it felt as if they all spilled out feet-first as though Arth were a giant helter-skelter. So strong was this impression that, when the light ceased to dazzle her, she looked upward, expecting to see Arth hanging above like an enormous blue tornado, or at least the twisted tail of it joining them to wherever they were now.
Blue was certainly what she saw, but it was the clouded blue of sky appearing through dark, shiny leaves. Among the leaves were small white flowers and round golden fruit. They were in a grove of fruit trees, and the light was, in fact, only bright after the darkness in the base of the citadel.
“What did you do?” Josh asked. He was collapsed on the grass with all four legs folded. Deep dents in the soft turf showed where he had landed and staggered before folding. Even so, he was keeping a firm arm around Marcus, who was struggling to get himself and his bag of toys off Josh’s back.
“Daddle,” Marcus announced.
“I didn’t do anything,” Zillah said.
“Yes you did,” said Philo, who was clinging to the nearest fruiting tree. He looked as if he might fold like Josh without it. “I never felt power like it!”
“Daddle!” insisted Marcus.
There was a small lake, or large pool, of an extraordinary fresh blue-green in the center of the grove. A play of mounded water and white bubbles near the middle showed where the pool was being fed constantly by a spring. Zillah could not blame Marcus for wanting to paddle. It was hot in this grove. But the whole of it had a look that was somehow — special.
“Better not, Marcus,” said Philo. “This all belongs to the Goddess.”
Over the days of their acquaintance, Marcus had decided Philo was the wise man of the party. He did not protest. He nodded gravely at Philo. “Dow?”
Zillah helped Marcus slide down off Josh. “Have either of you any idea where we are?”
“It feels like the Pentarchy,” Philo said decidedly. “But how far south or north we are depends — this hot, it could be summer in central Trenjen or winter in south Leathe. These orange trees don’t give much away. If only we knew what season—”
“Spring,” said Josh. He pointed to where, between two orange trees, some small blue-gray irises were flowering.
Philo stared at these in some perplexity. “Do those only come up in spring? It was spring when I left for Arth. It ought to be summer if—”
“Or we’ve been away a whole year,” Josh suggested. “I think we’d better go and ask someone — in a roundabout way, of course, or they’ll realize we’ve broken the law.”