“Well, my story and the Hags’ story would be the same,” interrupted Mouche. “Because Timmys told both of us. The Hags had Timmy nursemaids, just as all of us did.”
Unperturbed, Questioner went on, “I believe the Quaggi at some point lose their wings and become long-lived, planet-bound creatures devoted to philosophy. They don’t talk about their method of reproduction, and this little song of yours gives us a rather nasty hint that the females either die after being waylaid and raped, or perhaps in the act of laying the egg or hatching the young. All that bit about her broken wings and her dead dreams and being unable to fly. Most unpleasant.”
Ornery said, “Maybe the females don’t die. Maybe they just can’t fly anymore so they have to stay put.”
A long silence before Questioner commented: “Possibly. If the scene I witnessed was typical, that would be equivalent to lifetime solitary confinement. They have the lifespan of rocks.”
“So, since Quaggi are real,” said Mouche, “then maybe the song was real, too, and she could still be wherever it happened.”
“How big are they?” Ornery asked. “These Quaggi things?”
“The ones we’ve seen vary in size from mountainous to merely large,” mused Questioner. “The females could be smaller.”
Mouche said, “I can’t see what the Corojumi and the Bofusdiaga have to do with it.”
“Maybe they were just witnesses,” remarked Ornery.
“Many tribes of men tell stories that have bases in fact,” mused Questioner. “Of the eclipse of the sun, perhaps, or of shooting stars. Ornery may be correct, and these people may have witnessed the encounter.”
“In which case, the story has nothing to do with this journey,” said Mouche, finalizing the matter. He really wanted to stop talking.
“I think contrariwise,” murmured Questioner. “Everything has something to do with this journey. Tell me, Mouche, do the Timmys dance?”
“How did you know?” he asked, amazed. “They dance all the time. Everywhere. But who told you?”
“Actually, Mouche, it was an interstellar trader, who got into conversation with someone at your port, who told him a charming story about something you call the Long Nights.”
“Our midwinter holiday.”
“Which, according to the story, you celebrate because all your workers are busy dancing, even though you’ve tried and tried to make them quit.”
“There is a story like that,” he admitted.
“And another thing, Mouche. I am interested in the singer of your song.”
Startled, he replied, “The singer? My Timmy sang it to me … “
“Ah, yes. But who, in the song, apostrophizes and instructs? Who is it who cries, ‘Oh, Corojumi.’ Who is it who tells what occurred in ‘the dimmer galaxies.’ Is there some other personage present we have not yet heard of?”
44—Consternation
The morning following the Questioner’s visit to the temple D’Jevier took note that there had been no tremors through the night. Those venturing into the street saw clear blue above the scarp for the first time in seasons. Her hope that the predictions of the geologists aboard The Quest might have been premature was cast down however, when those same geologists sent word to the Temple that the calm was merely a hiatus and they could not reach the Questioner. Where was she? D’Jevier received this message just as Onsofruct came in with a message from the steward at Mantelby Mansion.
“Marool, dead?” D’Jevier breathed. “How?”
Onsofruct told her. Though the steward’s account had been somewhat reticent, she had accurately imagined some of what he had left unsaid.
“Also,” said Onsofruct, taking a deep breath, “the entire entourage that accompanied the Questioner has disappeared, along with the Questioner herself and four pressed men, three of them from House Genevois. And if that were not trouble enough, the ship that brought her knows of it and has stated its intention of relaying this information to the Council of Worlds.”
“Three men from House Genevois? Who, Onsy?”
“I didn’t ask their names. But by every Hagion from A to Z, I’d like to know what is going on!”
“We know what’s going on,” said her cousin. “At least, we have a fat hint or two that something real is happening among creatures or beings we have always considered mythical.”