Clodagh gave him a momentary blank stare. “And what else could be doing such amazing things? Do you know how long it takes to melt a pail of ice over a fire? Do you think we”her unusually graceful hand circled an area over the table that signified Kilcoole“could have caused the melt so early? Or pushed up a volcano? Or shaken the land as I would crumbs from this table?” Her tone was not argumentative; it sounded slightly surprised at such thick-wittedness from an apparently intelligent man. She shook her head. “No, the planet decided all by itself that there had been too many diggings of holes and plantings of explosives and such, and it wants those stopped.”
“The planet is, in your opinion, sentient?” Marmion asked.
“The planet is itself, alive, and,” Clodagh said, turning to Faber with mischief in her eyes, “totally cognizant of what it’s doing.”
Marmion rested her head against her propped arm and, with her free hand, turned the coffee cup around and around by its handle, absorbing this message. Frankly, she was now far more worried for Clodagh’s sake than the planet’s. The woman truly believed itMarmion was halfway to believing it herselfand Matthew Luzon would make mincemeat of her.
“Is there any chance that the planet’s intelligence can be proved? Without scientific doubt?”
“Early spring, volcanoes, and earthquakes aren’t proof enough?” Clodagh asked.
I am not the only person investigating the unusual occurrences on Petaybee, Clodagh,” Marmion began slowly. “Is there someplace, someone you could visit, somewhere inaccessible? For a week or so?”
“What for?” Clodagh stared at Marmion as if she’d lost her mind, then rose indignantly half out of her seat. “Why should I leave? When Kilcoole needs me the most it’s ever?” She plumped down again, her jaw set, spreading her fingers possessively and protectively on the table’s surface. “No, ma’am. I stay! I stay here! No one’s moving me from my home!”
“No, I don’t guess that would be easy, Clodagh, but impossible it is not, I fear.” Marmion leaned across the table to the healer. “If somehow, I could . .. experience … the planet myself …”
“Like Whit and the others did in the cave?” Clodagh asked, relaxing a bit more but crossing her arms firmly across her formidable bosom.
“Yes, something subjective so that I can come down as heavily on your side as possible.”
“Ah!” Clodagh said. “So you can stand for us against whats-is-name, the one Yana calls the buzzard.”
“His name’s Matthew Luzon, Clodagh,” Whittaker Fiske said with a not-quite-reproving grin as he appeared in the doorway. He paused to wipe the clods of mud off his boots, mopping his sweaty forehead as well, before he entered. “Do I smell cinnamon buns? I do.” Snaking a cup from the many hanging underneath the wall cabinet, he sat down at the table, angling the chair so he didn’t have his back to Faber. He poured coffee and took two big bites out of the cinnamon roll from the plate Clodagh passed him. “We’re lucky you decided to come, Marmie. You’ve got more common sense in one strand of your hair than Luzon has in that egg head of his, But” and Whit emphasized that with a pound of his fist on the table.
Marmion noted the crumbs jumping on the surface. How would a planet do such a thing on a larger scale? Shift tectonic plates? but those shifts were minute and occurred under specific conditions … She turned her attention back to Whit.
“But … the one we have to contend with is Matthew Luzon, and you know what he’s like. He’s never been one to let the truth, even if his nose is rubbed in it, stand in the way of his preconceived notions. If you hadn’t come, Marmie, I’d’veno, by God, I wouldn’t have left Petaybee.” The fist came down again.
“If, however, Whit, weFaber and I, plus Sally and Millard can be convinced, we are a united force on your side.”
Whit inhaled deeply, obviously mulling over the arguments for and against. “They’d say you’d flipped, Marmie.”
“Ha! I’ve too many PIHPthat stands for persons in high places, Clodaghfor even Matthew to succeed … But it is He who has to be convinced.”