Trouble snickered and turned his back upon the fire. "Ah, Tarzaka, and you say that there is no fortune teller in your blood." He snickered again and then was still.
Tarzaka, her face flushed, returned to studying the cards, while No One pushed himself to his feet and returned to the lake's shore. He sat for a long time staring at the stars reflected in the water. The swamp was unusually quiet. He frowned as he noticed that the stars before his eyes were moving—ripples upon the water.
He stood as he heard the soft singing of a deep voice coming from a great distance. The words were strange, but somehow familiar. It was the tune and how the words fit the tune:
Dee bazin da gungal dee id lathered fo doo zup,
An ellyfunk, uh lizun, da munnies, zanna bup.
"Mizens," zed de lizun, "Wheezall gizzard dere da zee
"Hif zeecan mazzerfac da zound firozopee."
Little Will had sung the children's song to him many times.
She had learned it from her father. Little Will had said that the song was taught to her father by Waco Whacko the snake charmer.
Deep within the jungle there did gather for to sup,
An elephant, a lion, a monkey, and a pup.
"My friends," said the lion, "We are gathered here to see
"If we can manufacture a sound philosophy."
The singing stopped and No One strained his eyes trying to see the singer. He searched for a long time, but eventually even the ripples were gone. He turned and went back to the fire.
With his head upon his pack, his eyes staring at the flames, No One's mind put together the things that he had seen, heard, and learned. He knew the swamp woman to be Waco's daughter, and where they had to search to find her. He closed his eyes and frowned, because his mind had not disclosed the extent of the swamp woman's powers.
An image floated in front of his face. A woman, no. A girl. A woman. Her face glowed, her almond-shaped eyes gazed lovingly at him from a swirling mist of black hair. His breath caught as she turned and offered her bare body to him—
No One bolted upright and looked around. Trouble and Tarzaka were both asleep, the wind and lake water undisturbed. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and shook his head. He looked again toward the water. Who are you?
Nervously his tongue moistened his lips. He looked back at the fire, lowered his head to his pack, and waited for sleep to come.
TWENTY-EIGHT
They were awakened just before dawn by the deep rumblings of a storm coming from the west. Flashes of lightning illuminated the sky as they quickly cooked the morning's cobit while a fire could still be made. Before they had finished their cakes, the heavy rain began to fall. "Bah!" Trouble hooded his head and hefted his pack as he glanced up at the sky. "It is still as dark as a cashier's conscience." He turned to No One. "We should lay up until the blowdown has passed."
No One looked at the western sky, then across the choppy waters of the lake. He faced Trouble. "This could go on all day. I don't want to lose a day."
The magician placed his hands upon his hips. "The fate of the Universe will not be changed if we take a little longer. I have just as much reason as you for learning from the eggs—"
"No." No One shouldered his pack. "No, you don't."
Tarzaka turned from No One and looked at the magician. "No One has a bull to kill." She looked back at No One. "True?"
No One began walking down the road. Tarzaka pulled her pack strap over her shoulder. "Trouble, we cannot get any wetter than we are now."
"Bah!" Trouble Held out his arms. "Where to, then, No One?"
No One looked back over his shoulder. "We follow the road toward Arcadia until it leaves the shore of the lake. Then we follow the shore."
They walked against the driving rain for hours, the chill numbing both thought and bone. While his mind thought upon Reg's death, No One's eyes were concentrating upon stepping around the large puddles and maintaining his footing upon the road's greasy surface. Just then a feeling of warmth filled him. He stopped. Trouble and Tarzaka stopped a few steps beyond.
Trouble looked around at the dripping green trees that bordered the road, his eyes wide with fear. "What is this, No One?"
"Do you feel it?"
Trouble nodded. "Aye."
No One looked at Tarzaka. "And you?"
Tarzaka's eyes were dulled, her face slack. Ignoring No One's question, she turned to her left and began walking toward the lake's jungle-lined shore. No One placed his hand upon her arm. "Wait, Tarzaka. Where—"
She pulled her arm free and continued into the trees. Trouble grabbed No One's shoulder. "We must follow her."
No One looked at the narrow strip of trees between the road and the lake. "This cannot be the place. There is nothing there."
Trouble glared at No One. "Place or not—" He waved a hand in impatient disgust at No One. "Bah!"
The magician hurried to follow the fortune teller. No One frowned at Trouble's back until it disappeared into the trees. He hesitated, then turned to follow them. As he approached the edge of the road, he heard a voice as it filled his mind.
Come, Johnjay. Come to me.
He stumbled and fell to the road. The voice—its strength— never before had No One experienced its like.
Come to me, Johnjay.
He crawled to the nearest tree and used its trunk to pull himself to his feet. His breath came in harsh, short gasps. "Who? Who are you?" He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts to form. "Who Are You?"
Come to me.
No One sagged against the tree and tried to make his thoughts ask the question again. But before he could ask, the answer came.
Come to me, Johnjay. I am your wife.
No One recoiled from the tree, anger driving the warmth, the thoughts, from his head. He screamed at the sky. "I will be damned if you are! Damned, I say!" His head filled with the pain of cruel laughter.
Then you are damned. Come to me, Johnjay.
The laughter left him, and he looked at the trail in the highgrass made by Tarzaka and Trouble. He studied the bent blades of grass as though by force of will he could make them refuse his steps. His feet moved forward and he entered the trail.
For hours he unwillingly lurched and stumbled through the dense vegetation. At times the trail would be invisible to his eyes, but his feet never failed to find it again. Twice he called out Trouble's name and received no answer. In time the rain stopped, followed an hour later by the sun. Minutes later the swamp steamed under the heat. No One's head swam from the effort and from the hot, thick air. When the power left his legs, he fell face down into the highgrass.
When his breath returned, he rolled over onto his back and stared without sight at the branches, leaves, and vines above. He shook his head at the ache in his legs. "What moves me against my will?" He rested quietly for a long moment, then pushed himself up to a sitting position, and looked down the trail. He was a long way from the road. No One cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. "Trouble! Trouble! Tarzaka!"
He lowered his hands and listened but could hear nothing but the buzzing of the insects. He hung his head as he took his hands and began massaging his tired legs to keep them from cramping. He paused, frowned, and looked at his surroundings. "Why did she let me rest?" He thought again. Did she? What did Trouble say about the cloaking of his mind? It appears as a blackness to the mind reader when... he was trying to think of nothing. No One nodded. "I dropped from exhaustion, my mind went blank, and she lost me! Yes." He held his hands to his head. How does one think about nothing?
His hands fell to his lap as an edge of warmth touched him and left. He pushed himself to his feet. "She is after me again!"