King of the Scepter'd Isle (Song of Earth) (27 page)

“Will sounds positive,” said the Princess. “It’s the opposite of Won’t.”

“Gnomes need something positive these days. I dropped by the new Disgusting this afternoon and Clubfoot was telling me things are bad for gnomes everywhere. It’s the human influence. Gnomes are dying in accidents and there are new kinds of diseases. And the birthrate isn’t fast enough to keep up with the losses. Our species is becoming extinct, Princess.”

“Not in this
dwelling it isn’t.”

“Well, we both know why
that
is.” And overcome with a most ungnomelike lust, he leaned forward and gently squeezed the Princess’s right breast. Female gnomes have large breasts at any time, but when nursing, they swell to gigantic proportions, ideal for fondling.

“Fang …?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know quite how to say this, but … Don’t you think it’s time we got married?”

“Married?”

“Don’t frown like that, Fang. Most gnomes who live together are married. It only needs Bison to say a few words and the thing’s done.”

“I don’t see the point, Princess. It doesn’t
mean
anything. I can see it with
humans,
because they need to get the general consent of other humans to them indulging in filth every night. Marriage is a big and dirty step for humans. And it doesn’t always work out for them, either. I hear there’s all kinds of trouble at Castle Menheniot. Nyneve told me that Lady Guinevere’s done nothing but complain for the last six months, ever since she and Arthur moved in. She says it doesn’t measure up to Castle Camyliard. And she keeps asking when she’ll be Queen of England.” He chuckled. “That’s a hard question for any husband to answer!”

“You and I are not humans, Fang.”

Fang smiled expansively. “Gnomes don’t need ceremonies. Gnomes live together for companionship.”

“The Miggot and Elmera are married.”

“The Miggot’s regretted it ever since.”

The Princess stared at him, aghast. “Are you saying
you
might regret it, Fang?”

“Absolutely not, Princess,” he said hastily. “Absolutely not. Why, only yesterday I was saying to Bison—”

“So we’ll get married, then.”

Fang took a deep
breath. “Yes,” he said.

And there came a pounding at the door. It was a second too late to save Fang from committing himself. For a moment he had a wild notion of sucking at the air to draw the word back. The Princess was smiling happily. It was not that Fang didn’t want to be married. The problem was
getting
married. If he and the Princess had gotten married a year ago when he was leader of the gnomes, it would have been a great occasion and an opportunity for feasting.

But now, with Bison in charge and half gnomedom living at the beach under Drexel Poxy’s rule, a wedding would be a sneaking affair, almost an admission of defeat. The Gooligog would ride in from Poxy’s camp.

“Not before time, Willie, you filthy young swine,” his father would say, brushing shyteshit from his shoulders.

It would be like admitting the Princess and he were wrong in their love of sex. And Fang was becoming convinced this was not the case—particularly since hearing the dire stories of plummeting population.

“Aren’t you going to answer the door, Fang?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. I was thinking.”

Fang flung open the door in welcoming gnomish fashion, to find the piercing eyes of the Miggot boring into his—a depressing sight on a comfortable evening.

“Fang.”

“Miggot.”

The Miggot hurried in, stamping snow off his boots. “You must come—”He broke off, staring at the crib. “What’s that?”

“Little Will, of course.”

“Yes. I’d forgotten. It’s time you were married, Fang, you dirty young bugger. You’ll never be leader while you two are living together in filth.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be leader.”

“Bloody nonsense, you reveled in it before, and you could revel again. Think of the decisions you could make! Think of the power you would wield! And now all we have is Bison the broken reed,” said the Miggot gloomily. “And half gnomedom living in the thrall of the abominable Poxy.”

“At least my
father’s living in his thrall.”

“Your father is a poisonous character,” agreed the Miggot. “But then, who isn’t? And yet there was a time when it seemed to me he mellowed. Just after he passed on the Memorizing ability to you. I always thought he was glad to be rid of the responsibility, but when I saw how quickly he joined up with Poxy, I wasn’t so sure.”

“Do we have to discuss such an unpleasant subject?”

The Miggot settled himself comfortably into Fang’s chair. “I
like
discussing unpleasant subjects, Fang. And you’re the host, so you must indulge me. It seemed to me the shytes were circling a little lower the last time I saw the Gooligog. He can’t cheat death for ever. It seemed … Fang!” The Miggot’s eyes, which had been half shut in contemplation, snapped open. “Why am I talking about your father? We have to get back to the Sharan!”

“The Sharan?”

“She’s in labor! That’s what I came here for! Get on your jacket and boots, it’s a bloody awful night outside. We must attend to her.”

Fang regarded the Princess, little Will, and the blazing fire unhappily. “Can’t you and Pan attend to the Sharan?”

“I need you, Fang.” The Miggot’s glare was like twin thrusting swords. “The future of the gnomish species lies in your hands.”

“And yours.”

“True. But are you forgetting the purpose of this birth?”

“Of course not. The purpose of this birth is to …” Fang glanced at the Princess guiltily. Normally they kept no secrets from each other. “… is to safeguard the future of the gnomish species.”

“Which lies in your hands,” pursued the Miggot.

“And yours.” Fang pulled on his boots, shrugged into his jacket, and kissed the Princess and little Will. “I won’t be long,” he said.

“You may be longer than you think,” said the Miggot.

The snow was driving
horizontally down the forest path, funneled by the trees. The rabbits, blinded, proceeded at a slow lope. Fang and the Miggot clung to their mounts’ backs, eyes squeezed tight and trusting to the Miggot’s rabbit’s sense of direction. The journey seemed unending. The wind rose and the gnomes rode heads down, their caps deflecting the worst of the storm. Somewhere they heard a crash as a tree fell.

At last they reached the blasted oak and secured the rabbits in the lee of an exposed root. Then they made their way to a big chamber, hollowed by moles and supported above by arched roots. The Sharan lay panting in the light of a meager fire tended by Elmera. Pan sat beside the unicorn’s head, playing his pipes softly and feeding her soothing thoughts. When the Sharan was in labor, a surprisingly sympathetic side of his nature always emerged.

“Not before time,” snapped Elmera. “I suppose you called in at the Disgusting on your way. This isn’t my job, you know. You’re the Sharan’s official guardian, Miggot!”

The Miggot ignored her. “How’s she doing, Pan?”

“All right. She seems a bit frightened.”

“Let’s take a look at the rear end of her.”

The Miggot and Pan commenced a close and expert inspection. Fang, embarrassed, tried to open up a conversation with Elmera.

“Bit of a storm outside,” he ventured.

“You can look after the fire now. I’m going to bed.” She stalked out of the chamber, thin for a female gnome, and trailing an aura of disapproval.

“Does she know?” Fang asked.

“Do you think I’d tell
her
anything?” By now the Miggot and Pan were sitting on the ground, their feet braced against the Sharan’s rump, hauling on something about which Fang’s mind refused to speculate. “Come and give us a hand, can you? You and Spector and me are the only ones who know about this. Let’s keep it that way.”

“And me,” said Pan. “Don’t forget me. I know.”

“Yes, and you’d better keep your bloody mouth shut. If word gets
out, the three of us will be in deep manure. We’ll be ostracized by gnomedom, and the giants will probably roast us on spits. Pull, you little runt. Pull!”

Fang, reluctantly approaching, was in time to see the Miggot and Pan fall onto their backs as the resistance suddenly ceased.

A human baby lay on the earthen floor.

“Success!” shouted the Miggot.

“Oh, my,” said Pan, awed, crawling to his feet and staring. “Isn’t it big!”

“It’s a male,” said Fang.

The Sharan twisted her head around and expertly bit through the umbilical. Then she began to lick the baby with a rough tongue. He uttered a cough, then filled the chamber with a hiccuping, squalling din.

The Miggot was hurrying from the corner of the chamber, trailing an armful of blankets. “Where the hell has Elmera gone? You can always rely on her to run out in a gnome’s hour of need. Go and get her, Fang!”

“Perhaps you ought to get her, Miggot.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Thrusting the blankets at Fang, the Miggot ran for the door. “Wrap the baby up in those!” he shouted over his shoulder.

The baby was immensely heavy and cumbersome. By spreading the blankets on the floor and pushing, Fang and Pan managed to get him rolled up in them like a gigantic chrysalis. Soon the Miggot and Elmera arrived, the latter wearing a thunderous expression that abated somewhat on seeing the baby.

“If he wasn’t so big, he could almost be a new gnome,” was her comment.

“So feed him,” snapped the Miggot.

For one appalling moment Fang thought he meant Elmera to bare her scanty breasts; but she urged the Sharan to change position, then guided a teat into the baby’s mouth. The baby clearly knew what this was all about and began to suck, waving tiny fists in appreciation. The chamber was suddenly quiet. Fang smiled at the Miggot and Elmera. The Miggot returned a
twisted grin. Pan, his job completed, lay down on a bed in the corner and went instantly to sleep.

“What now?” asked Elmera. “You can’t keep that thing here.”

“I realize that,” said the Miggot.

“And you can’t take him away. You’ll be seen. You’ve got yourself into real trouble this time, Miggot. I always said you would, playing God like this!”

“We’re moving the baby out tonight,” the Miggot told Fang.

“Tonight? In this weather?”

“The weather is in our favor. Nobody will see us. Only a fool would be out on a night like this.”

“I’m not a fool, Miggot!” Fang was annoyed. An hour ago he’d been comfortable at home and looking forward to cuddling the Princess in bed, and now he was facing a snowy journey and being called a fool into the bargain. “Bugger you, Miggot!” he snapped. “You can move the baby yourself!”

The Miggot frowned. Fang seemed determined to misunderstand him. “I meant the only people likely to be out tonight,” he said carefully, “will be fools and two other people. We will be those two other people. We’ll be in the cart, with the baby. The rabbits will pull the cart. Is that clear?”

“But suppose we run into a fool,” said Fang worriedly. “Or even a band of fools. They might want to know what’s in the cart!”

“Fools have no curiosity, Fang. That’s one of their characteristics. Now, Elmera,” said the Miggot quickly, before Fang could continue the discussion, “all I ask is that you help us get the baby into the rabbit cart. Then you can go to bed, and Fang and I will take it from there.”

The baby, although no taller than a gnome, was immensely heavy, and all three of them were exhausted by the time he was loaded into a cart built specially for the purpose. Unlike the normal rabbit cart, this had four wheels and long shafts to dampen the effect of the rabbit’s bounding motion. Both Gene,
the Miggot’s rabbit, and Thunderer were harnessed to the cart. The gnomes fortified themselves against the cold with beer and loaded several gourds of milk for the baby. Then they rigged a tentlike awning over hoops of hazel attached to the sides of the cart, so that the baby would stay dry.

Elmera watched silently. When they were finished, she said, “Keep him here for a few days at least.”

“We can’t take the chance. This isn’t the kind of secret you can keep from gnomedom. And he gets any bigger, we won’t be able to move him. It’s now or never, Elmera.”

“You’re a cruel bastard, Miggot!” she stormed, eyes bright. Then she swung around and ran from the chamber.

The Miggot avoided Fang’s eyes. “Elmera has always been a source of challenge to me,” he muttered.

Fang said nothing. Silently they boarded the cart and urged the rabbits forward. Once they were outside, the force of the storm hit them, rocking the cart.

They took the beach path directly south from the blasted oak. The snow fell steadily, eddying around them. Drifts built up against the larger trees. They sensed rather than saw these by the way the cart would suddenly slow down. They sat side by side on the open front platform of the cart with the baby, warm and well fed, enclosed behind them. The rabbits plodded on miserably. They didn’t like the weather any better than the gnomes did, although they were better dressed to deal with it. Progress was painfully slow. The wind seemed to cut through every crack in the gnomes’ clothing. An hour went by, then another, and Fang judged it to be well past midnight. Tiredness overcame him. …

He slipped easily into a world a little different from the one he knew, but not much. It was a world he often visited in his dreams. Afterward, when he awakened, he would remember very little, just a vague impression of a human girl standing on the edge of a cliff and watching the sea gulls. …

She took off her blouse and laid it over a flaming yellow gorse bush. She stood still for a while, dressed only in a pair of white
shorts, as the wind played with her hair. Her breasts were proportionately much smaller than a female gnome’s, but they were neat and pink-tipped, and the sleeping Fang could appreciate their beauty. There was one part of the dream that had a nightmarish quality, however, and that came next.

The girl shrugged her shoulders with a gesture that was becoming familiar to Fang.

She spread her wings.

They were large and feathered white, at odds with the rest of her body, and terrifying because of it. She flapped them slowly, facing the sea.