The Land Beyond Summer is posted for entertainment purposes only and no part of it may be crossposted to any other datafile base, conference, news group, email list, or website without written permission of Pulpless.Comtm.
Copyright © 1996 by Brad Linaweaver. All rights reserved.


CHAPTER SEVEN
DOUR SENDINGS

Fay woke up. She had been having a lovely dream about her family at the seashore. This was the first pleasant dream she'd had in months. But when she awakened, it was to another nightmare.

It was the same view of the pine trees waving gently against the blue sky, only something new had been added. At first she thought she was looking at the moon, but it was a face intruding into her halcyon dream of peace. Or could it really be called a face, when it was a pure white human skull? As it turned slightly, she saw an envelope of nearly transparent flesh around it, the clear, jelly-like substance that glistens on a jellyfish. A moment later, the whole body came into view and Fay did the only reasonable thing.

She screamed. Then she screamed again. The figure ran away, and she heard Kitnip's voice scolding her: "You scared him away."

"I scared him?" she asked incredulously. Then she completely forgot herself, and where she was, and with whom she was dealing. She blurted out: "You let that creature sneak up on me!"

"Calm down," purred Kitnip. "I should have warned you about their appearances, but it just so happens that Tabriks are friends. They live in the glass hive."

Fay screwed up her face, the way she always did when she was worrying. Kitnip could hardly believe how nasty her friend was becoming, especially when Fay launched into a tirade: "So now you're telling me that I'm to blame if we have problems with these bone people, or whatever they are. How could I possibly know..."

"Humans," commented Kitnip with a weariness that could only come from having experienced the subject of her displeasure for more than one lifetime (say about nine times at least). "You simply must calm down or I'll leave."

Now that was a surprise. She didn't have the slightest idea how the cat had come to be here, but she just naturally assumed they would have the same purposes. As far as dealing with an animal, she had always prided herself on treating her pets with respect. But it was a very different matter when another mind suddenly came into the picture; and in such an unlikely package, too!

Fay was mad. She wanted to tell Kitnip to go live with the Tabriks if that's the way she felt about it. But Fay didn't need a lesson more than once, in which respect she was different from her brother. In her most formal tone she gravely addressed her former pet: "I believe I owe you an apology."

Kitnip rubbed up against her leg and purred. She might suddenly be another person with an active mind; but she was still a cat as well. Fay relaxed, and started scratching the cat on the head, and gently crushing the ears the way she liked.

"All right then" said the cat. "We need to be moving on. I'm sure we can find the Tabriks before there's trouble. Now there's one thing about being courteous to Tabriks, besides not screaming when you see one. No human being can possibly pronounce their personal names, so it's better you don't even try. I found that out when I first arrived."

"Can you do it?" asked Fay.

"No. Mrs. Norse brought me down in the middle of a party she was having for some of them and I didn't have a mouse's chance of making a good impression. But enough chatter. Let's go!"

Whether Fay was rested or not, there was to be no more delay. In a place where the creature she had just seen wasn't to be feared, she hated to think what something really scary might be like. Besides, she really did feel better after her nap.

"Before we go any further, we need to take something along for our protection," said the cat. "You need to collect those pine cones."

Now this was a strange request! There were about half a dozen of the cones scattered about, considerably less than might have expected from so many trees. Fay was learning not to question her unexpected benefactor -- at least not all at once. Still, there was a practical difficulty.

"I hate to bring this up, Kitnip, but I don't have anything to carry them in. I left my knapsack at home."

"Yeah, I remember. It's the red one made of Goretex. I guess you'll have to take your top off and make a bag to carry them in."

The funny thing wasn't that Fay felt a sudden hesitation, down deep in her stomach, but that she could be embarrassed in front of Kitnip. They were just girls here. Her cat had seen her with no clothes on plenty of times. She used to take Kitnip into the bathroom with her when she would take a bath and the cat would get on the closed toilet seat and peer over into the water. When using bubble bath, it was especially funny because the cat would make batting motions at the bubbles, and when the suds would get on her paw, she'd hold it up in front of her, as if inspecting a trophy.

But it was one thing to have no modesty with a pet that Fay could view as hers, and quite another thing with a brand new person. Kitnip wasn't hers anymore. Then again, cat people were always saying how easily they accepted the idea that nobody owns a cat. The quickest way to test that proposition would be to have their pets express an opinion!

This was getting nowhere fast. Why shouldn't she take off her top? It was a warm day. Mother had tried to teach Fay to be modest about wearing tops back when her chest was completely flat, and she couldn't see why she couldn't have the same freedom outdoors that Clive had. When the first small bumps came, she realized that Mom had wanted her to practice. This was apparently what women did. They practiced a lot.

Well, this was a different world, and maybe it had different rules. She'd already stopped thinking it might be Hell. But there was plenty of proof that it wasn't Heaven either. Maybe all worlds you could travel to, in your own body, were mixtures of good and bad.

"OK," she said, and removed the top, noticing only for the briefest moment the current status of her small breasts. At least they were starting to be something. They reminded her of the pointy tips of inverted ice cream cones. That's what Uncle Celko called them anyway. She thought of them more as little Hershey kisses. She hoped that one day they would be as full and round as Mom's.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why we need pine cones," she said a bit sarcastically as she began to gather them.

"I don't mind. In the hands of humans, they can be deadly explosives..."

"What?!"

"... if thrown against the right targets. We're in Spring, and there are protections against Malak here. His agents fear what the Tabriks have placed throughout this Season to thwart him. Autumn has Mrs. Norse to protect it, but as she is his greatest enemy, he is bringing most of his forces to bear against her. Summer is the most vulnerable."

"How do you know all this? You told me there wasn't time before, but..."

"It's very complicated to tell, but simple to show. When we have reached the Hive, you'll have all the answers you can bear." The cat made the proposition sound downright grizzly.

She would have asked Kitnip what sort of dangers they might face on the journey, but thought better of it. At least it was a relief to learn they were in one of the safer areas. Even so, the cat was right to observe caution if Malak could strike against them anywhere.

Malak. Grandfather. It was hard to believe they were the same person. She hadn't heard the cat admit to this knowledge. Come to think of it, Kitnip would have only seen her grandparent on rare occasions. The family had never been close, just another of its many problems.

This was no time to explore the subject. Kitnip was moving off, more slowly this time, and Fay was grateful that her feline friend was pacing herself to be more easily followed. Making a knot at the top of her shirt, Fay proudly noticed that none of the cones fell out when she lifted her makeshift bag. She doubted any snooty girl scout could do better.

It was good to be on the move again, now that she had rested; and good not to have to think too much about what had happened to Mom, Dad ... and Clive!

***

"My dear boy," said the old man who was Malak, the Dour One, and who just happened to be Clive's grandfather. "I can smell you hiding there. Sort of like 'Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum' in the old fairy tale. You can't hide Gurney blood from me!"

Clive started shaking. Wolf growled, way down low, but you could still hear it. Grandfather didn't miss a beat: "So you have that old mongrel with you, too. You never took good care of the beast. But then you never bathed yourself very well either, which is why I can find you now. There's nothing preventing me sending my little friends right up to you and having them eat out your eyeballs."

Clive whimpered. Wolf growled in words: "I've had just about enough."

"Fear not, Clive. Sheath your fangs, Wolf. I'll not attack you ... today. And if you have one good brain between the two of you, then you'll recognize the folly of attacking when I am surrounded by my autumnal legions." "What do you want?" demanded Wolf, and his voice was different, full of fire and thunder every bit as frightening as the unbearable confidence of their enemy.

"Fair enough. I want what I always want: a bargain." He allowed silence to collect in the air; and then it sort of drifted down to different parts of their bodies, touching Clive's fingers and ears, pressing up against Wolf's nose. The longer it went on, the worst it got until finally Wolf's impatience was stronger than Clive's fear.

"Stay there," said Wolf, and padded out from behind the tree so that the Dour One could see him. "We're not buying anything today," said the dog.

"Good," came the reply, "because I'm not selling."

The parley was fairly begun. "So what's this about?" Wolf wanted to know.

"I'm buying. What would you say to a once-in-a-lifetime bargain? You have something I want to invest in. Now ask yourself, what is the best possible investment?"

Wolf had a ready answer: "A bone."

The Dour One was well named. Anyone else might have at least cracked a smile at the canine thought. But Grandfather had never laughed at jokes. He didn't even seem to hear what anyone else said, but continued on his solitary course.

"The best investment is something that can never go wrong, that always pays and pays and pays. Many wise people have given this problem much thought over the centuries and they always arrive at the same answer. The best investment is taxes."

Clive listened to the dry, cold voice. Although he didn't understand the exact meaning of much of what the old man said, the general idea was simple enough. Grandad was not a nice man.

"You mean collecting taxes," said the dog.

"Of course," was the solemn answer. "I'm offering the two of you employment. So it's you who would be selling your services by joining my friendly army of tax collectors. There's a big project coming up and it will cost everything I've got to pull it off. Now we don't use regular money around here. We pay for what we want in more ineffable substances, but I'll teach you what they are and how to get them."

Even though Wolf had told him to stay put, Clive came out from behind the tree. He'd understood enough of what Grandfather was saying that he had to show himself and say something.

"But Grandfather..." Clive began.

"Ah, my dear, sweet boy!" said the man.

"Grandad!" Clive tried again to seize the other's attention, and half expected to be called down for using the name he'd been told to avoid ... but nothing happened. "Why do you want us?"

"Why not?"

"Didn't you have a task for us back on earth?"

The man allowed himself the briefest of smiles as if to say: Clive is using strategy! Now who would have expected that? Grandfather bowed in honor of the indirect approach and explained, "A certain terrible lady altered my plans, but we shouldn't cry over the spilled milk of kindness. I'm in a magnanimous mood and offer you this splendid opportunity with job security and automatic promotions."

Clive wasn't in a buying or selling mood: "But back on Earth, you were always cursing the IRS. You had nothing good to say about taxes."

"That is true," said the man.

"Then what's this about?" asked Wolf.

"There is an important difference, you two." Grandfather started to grin. He grinned so broadly that he looked like a happy man. Clive had never seen that before. "The difference is that here I get to collect the taxes," said He Who Was Malak. "Back there, I had to give them."

"You didn't really mean it when you complained to Mom and Dad every April."

"To anyone who would listen!" Grandfather helpfully finished the thought. "I was very bitter about anyone taking my money. The operative word is mine! There's no reason you should know about my poor business partner, Bob. We had diversified into computers at just the right time. He railed against the government more than anyone I've ever met. The poor fool thought I agreed with him on principle every time I was merely practical. When we received an offer that would mean upgrading the IRS computers, he wanted to turn it down. A contract worth millions. Poor old Bob. I had to get rid of him."

"You ... killed him?" Clive dared to ask.

Now the man laughed. Grandfather had never done that, never! Who was this strange amalgam of at least two different people, Lord Malak with Grandfather's mind and sordid memories? "You never have to murder idealists, boy. You can take care of them legally. That's what the law is for, to reward practical people."

As Malak elaborated the point, the weird creatures that had so terrified the boy wandered into the clearing and surrounded their leader. Clive had had no idea there were so many. He could count a dozen in plain view, and the movement of bushes suggested there were many, many more.

Suddenly Wolf broke the spell. "We don't want to touch your money, or what you use for it."

Their would-be employer was most forgiving: "Ah, you wouldn't know real money from Kibbels and Bits. Besides, we're not talking about money. Everything runs on magic hereabouts. I need more magic in one place at one time than has ever happened since Creation, little pooch. I started the ball rolling with the spell I chanted on Pine Lake back on earth a lifetime ago. You might say that was my audition. Now I have the best job there is, and I'm offering you a little piece of action instead of the alternative."

Clive was finding it hard to breathe for some reason. It was as if every spoken word was hitting him in the chest. Most annoying was that he felt like crying from that little balloon that fills up deep inside with all the tears you try never to show. He couldn't stand to listen to anymore.

"Where's Dad?" he blurted out.

"You're changing the subject," said Malak.

Clive's answer flowed out of him like a river of pain: "You used to say you hated Dad because he couldn't make enough money. But if you want all the money for yourself, then you'd hate Dad for making money, too."

"The innocent babe has spoken a Truth," said the very old man.

"You'd hate him either way!" Clive could hardly believe what he heard himself saying. Wolf observed the boy with sympathy, but in this situation, there was nothing he could do for him.

"I hate you!" shouted Clive at the figure standing before him, the monster who had once been part of his family.

"There's no profit in that," said the Dour One. "I'll give you one more chance."

"We've heard enough from you," said Wolf as he started backing away until he was right up against Clive. That's when Grandfather gave them a taste of the alternative: he pulled off his head and threw it at them.

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