The Book of Earth (25 page)

“Pull up a keg,” Hal advised her comfortably.

Erde waited for her sight to adjust to the dim red glow from the hearth, then settled herself on a low cask near the door that looked the least likely to tip over. At her feet lay a basket of broken eggshells, another of pine cones, another of twigs and dirt, plus a box of assorted turtle shells. The rough-hewn walls of the hut formed an octagon, lined floor to ceiling with shelves, each bowing under the weight of more jars, jugs, bowls, and bottles.

The knight lounged silently on his keg. Erde watched him carefully for an indication of what to do next, while Gerrasch shuffled about among the jars and baskets showing only his round back, as if he had forgotten them entirely.

“So here’s this dragon,” offered Hal finally. “And . . . he comes with a mystery.”

Still puttering with his containers, Gerrasch snorted. “No mystery to me.”

“Good. Excellent. Exactly why we came.”

Suddenly Gerrasch spun around to stare at Erde as if he had just noticed she was there. “Boy or girl?”

“Hard to tell, if you don’t see many of either,” replied Hal dryly. He resisted reminding the creature of his claim to know everything. “Gerrasch of Eiderbloom, may I present the Lady Erde von Alte.”

Gerrasch lurched across the dark room toward her. Erde cried out voicelessly and recoiled off her cask, backing up against the overflowing shelves. Jars rattled. Dried branches crackled beside her head.

“Easy, girl,” the knight murmured.

Gerrasch pursued her. He shoved his nose close to hers, blocking her sight entirely so that she saw only a huge halo of hair backlit by the embers and a faint reflection glimmering in his eyes. She turned her head aside, repulsed by Gerrasch’s strong musky odor. She looked to Hal for support. But the knight watched impassively, as if from a great distance, his arms folded across his chest.

Gerrasch placed furry, pawlike hands on Erde’s cheeks and turned her to face him. His palms were smooth and oddly cool. He sniffed at her, as a dog might inspect a stranger, then pulled his hands away and snatched up one of hers. He pressed it flat like a gypsy fortuneteller and bent his head over it, though the room was much too dark for reading anything. Erde could feel his warm breath on her skin. He sniffed again, muttering, then licked her palm. The hot wet touch of his tongue frightened her. She tried to pull her hand away, wishing to be out of this close, lightless hovel, and away from this malodorous creature who held her fast, staring as if he could see through her in the gloom. Her anxiety roused the dragon. His concern rushed into her head, his loud complaint at being left outside with only the Mule and the she-goat for company. Erde calmed herself and him, and made him promise to stay hidden in his thicket.

“A dragon. Yes. Will be.” Gerrasch gave a satisfied grunt and dropped her hand. He shuffled away from her briskly
and settled himself in front of the dying fire, opposite Hal. He stirred the coals, tossing on a few twigs. Hal watched him. Erde realized she had suddenly become irrelevant.

“How much?” Hal asked finally.

“Ten,” came the gruff reply.

“One.”

“Ha.”

“Two.”

“Ten.”

“Three.”

“Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten.”

Hal unfolded his arms, dusted his palms together. “Forget it. I’m sorry I bothered.” Erde was astonished that the knight thought this creature could know anything worth paying for. And if he was so mercenary, maybe it was dangerous to have come here at all. He would likely sell his knowledge of her whereabouts to the highest bidder, who would of course be her father, or perhaps the priest.

Gerrasch clicked his teeth together. “Eight. Eight, eight.”

“Four,” said Hal. “Not a mark more.”

“Five.”

“Done.”

Gerrasch stuck out his hand. Tiny new flames licked up from the hearth, and Erde could see that his palm was as smooth as a baby’s, fresh and pink, emerging from a dark cocoon of fur and rags. As she watched in disbelief, Hal dug into his belt and counted five silver marks into Gerrasch’s soft, pink palm. The creature prodded them gently, crooning like a mother, then closed his fist around them. Shining silver vanished into darkness.

Hal looked to Erde. “He’ll take it because the king’s silver is still the purest.”

“Five questions,” the creature announced.

“Someday, Gerrasch, your greed will get the better of you.”

“Ask. Time is short.”

Hal scoffed. “Out here, you’ve got nothing but time.”

“I, yes. You, no. Ask.” His beady gaze shifted, then fixed on Erde. “Maybe she ask better.”

“Fine with me,” said Hal.

Erde frowned at him. She did not understand the game.
Either he was playing with her or with Gerrasch, for surely he did not expect this half-man, half-animal to be able to read. But the knight just smiled back at her expectantly. Erde shook her head.

“The Lady Erde declines,” Hal declared, “to speak with one so rude and selfish with his knowledge.”

It was Gerrasch’s turn to look disgusted. He turned his back on Hal with a wave of his pink-skinned paw, and peered at Erde harder. “Ask!”

His intent stare riveted her, and she felt she must answer him somehow. She patted her throat and shook her head.

Gerrasch snatched her hand away. “Ask! Ask, ask, ask, ask!”

She let out an explosion of breath and effort, and felt tears well up hot in her eyes. Gerrasch cocked his curly head, then pressed his soft palm to her throat. “Ah. Oh. Aww. Humm. Yes.” His fingers probed her neck. “Word stuck.”

“The lady has lost her voice,” offered Hal quietly.

“No. No. Voice there. Word stuck.” His touch was surprisingly gentle. “Yes, yes. Feel it right . . . there.”

Erde knew a word had no substance. It could not be lodged in your throat like some kind of fish bone. But it did feel like that when she tried to speak, and Gerrasch had focused on the exact spot she would have chosen, had she been asked to pinpoint the problem. She even had the sense she’d once known what the word was. She had only to remember it and her voice would be restored. Gerrasch pressed and sniffed and she found herself smiling at him. Suddenly the hovel did not feel so hot and close. She put her fingers on top of his and nodded. She thought he smiled back, but in the dim light she could not be sure, and too quickly he pulled his hand away and stepped back, no longer looking at her.

“One answer. Four more. Next?”

“Now, wait a minute,” Hal protested.

“True answer, true. Only, she must find right word.”

Hal stood, hunched up under the smoke-stained ceiling. “Come on, Gerrasch. I paid good King’s Coin for useful information, not the hocus-pocus you cheat the locals with.”

“Not hocus-pocus!”

“Oh? Then why can’t you—who knows everything—just tell her what the word is?”

Gerrasch whirled away, shaking his stubby arms and head so violently that his curls battered his eyes. “She. She, she must find it!”

“He doesn’t mean a real word, of course. It’s a metaphor, for finding your own cure.”

Erde put out a staying hand, begging him not to harass the creature further. Gerrasch’s explanation was oddly satisfying, however whimsical. It made her feel less damaged and she wanted to believe him, though she had no idea how he could know such things.

Hal backed off. “All right. Besides, the questions we came to ask are about the dragon.”

“Dirt.”

Hal stared at him, then frowned reprovingly. “Earth.”

“Dirt. Stone. Sand. Dirt.”

Erde recalled how Earth had used these words in image-form to identify himself.

“I wouldn’t call him Dirt when you meet him,” replied Hal. “He might decide you look good to eat. You know how dragons feel about their naming.”

Erde was sure she saw Gerrasch’s hair-veiled eyes dart apprehensively toward the door. She wanted to reassure him that dragons don’t eat people, but she wasn’t entirely sure he was a person. Did being able to speak make you human, no matter what body you wore?

“Dirt, dirt, dirt,” muttered Gerrasch. He lifted his heavy chin, sniffing distractedly. “Can’t stay here,” he hissed suddenly.

“You don’t want to see the dragon?” asked Hal.

“Don’t need to see.”

“Smell him, then. Close up, in person.”

Gerrasch was agitated again. “Can’t, can’t, can’t.” He grabbed Erde’s hand, pulled her to her feet. “Dragon, you, all must go now.”

“Our questions, Gerrasch. You owe us four.”

Gerrasch whirled on the knight, an outraged bulk of flying curls. “You ask, then! Quick, quick, quick! You are followed.”

Hal stilled. “No.”

“Yes!” Gerrasch sniffed again, a long intake of breath with his stubby neck extended. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

“Damn! I was sure . . . how many? Can you tell?”

“One, one.”

Erde heard a dog baying, faint with distance.

“One? One man?”

“One, one. That is all.” Gerrasch shuffled away from the hearth to pull a canvas pouch from one of the shelves. He hung it over his shoulders crosswise, then went from shelf to shelf, grabbing a pinch of this, a handful of that, and stuffing it all into the pouch. “Next question. Quick, quick. Three left.”

“Damn!” growled Hal again. “All right, fast then. This is important, Gerrasch, or I wouldn’t have bothered you, you know that.”

“Yes, yes! Hurry!”

“Here are our questions—they’re all related. Milady, if you will alert the Dragon that we are followed, he’ll pass it on to the Mule.”

No need. The dragon had heard the baying from his hiding place. Erde had to use all her powers of persuasion to keep him from bolting without them.

“Question One,” said Hal. “The dragon claims to have forgotten his mission: why has he been called? Two, he dreams of an unnamed Summoner: who has called him? Three, where do we go to find the one who calls?”

As Hal said this, an image of shining white towers rose up in Erde’s mind. Where indeed?

“This dragon sleeps still.” Gerrasch’s entire interest seemed to be in filling his pouch.

“Yes, yes, but how can we wake him?”

“You cannot. He must. He, he, he must. Now you go.”

Hal scraped stiff fingers through his thinning hair. “Come on, Gerrasch! For five marks, I could have supplied that answer. We need your help!”

“No help, no, no, no! Can’t!” Gerrasch dug in his leafy vest and flung three silver coins at the knight’s feet. “You go now!”

Erde listened. The baying was still far away, still only one voice. Could Gerrasch’s “one” have meant one dog? The dragon was relaying pictures of huge packs, many hundreds of monstrous hounds with gleaming razored teeth,
but she knew by now that fear made him exaggerate. Meanwhile she wondered, why only one?

Hal had gathered up the coins. He held them out in his open palm. “You agreed, Gerrasch. One cast, then. We have time for one cast.”

Gerrasch’s pouch was full. With a sharp glare at Hal, he jerked it around to lie against his back, then scuttled away and bent among the kegs and ceramic jugs, muttering furiously. Returning to the hearth, he cleared twigs and stones and a bowl of mushrooms from a patch of dirt floor with one sweep of his wide, flat foot. He lowered himself in front of it and tossed a fistful of objects on the ground: dark, round pebbles, pearly shells, and tiny pinecones, a bone or two, and some strange seed pods, furry and sickle-shaped. Gerrasch stared at the scattering he’d made.

“Well?” prompted Hal. “Anything?”

“One: the purpose is to fix what’s broken.”

“Broken,” Hal repeated softly. “Does it say what it is?”

Gerrasch shook his head. “Two: the Summoner is not here.”

“Of course he’s not here. If he was, we wouldn’t be looking for him!”

“Her.”

“He . . . oh. Her.” Hal nodded. “Well, that’s something. So where is she?”

“Three: don’t know. Don’t. Not here.”

“Obviously!” Hal snapped. “Like I said, if . . .”

“Not
here!
” Gerrasch swept a broad arm through the pebbles and shells, destroying whatever coherence had been apparent to him. “I tell what I see! Go away! Get out now! You want more, go to the women!”

“The women know more than you?” Hal prodded mockingly.

“Sometimes. Yes. Different things. Go there!”

“Fine. I was headed there anyway.”

“Good! Ask them about the City!”

Hal laid hands on Gerrasch for the first time, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring him in the eye. “WHAT CITY?”

The City. Erde felt an absurd surge of hope, and the white towers shimmered again in her mind. The City. Just
the word itself had a magical ring. She didn’t know any cities. She’d only heard the word used to refer to places in the Bible, ancient places, places of miracles. Or to the City of Rome, which was the City of Heaven on Earth and was far enough away to seem ancient and miraculous.

“What city, Gerrasch?”

Erde prayed he meant her city.
Ask him where
, she thought desperately, ask him where we should go.

Gerrasch would not be intimidated further. He shoved Hal’s hands away. “Ask them. Them, them, them, them.”

Hal looked to Erde. “We’ve gotten all we’re going to. Best be off, like he says. Not right to bring our hell-hounds down on his head.”

Erde was torn. She had no desire to stand around waiting for her father’s Hunt to arrive bows-at-the-ready in Gerrasch’s little clearing, but what if he had the knowledge they needed?

Hal read her hesitation accurately. “We’ll get no more here. When he’s done, he’s done.”

So Erde nodded and Gerrasch nodded with her.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. Must go. Quick, quick, quick.” He pulled his shoulder pouch around to the front again and began kneading it frantically. A dry crunching sound and the odor of crushed herbs filled the hut, sharp enough to cover even his own musky scent. “Good. Now, come.”

He waddled toward the door, snatching up a small woven-grass basket as he went. He dumped its contents on the floor and shoved it into Erde’s hands as she followed behind him. At the door, he stopped short and turned.

“No Dirt,” he rasped at her. “No Dirt, no, no.”

Erde spread her hands in confusion.

“He doesn’t want to see the dragon,” Hal translated. “I think he doesn’t want any knowledge that could be taken from him by force.”