Donnerjack by Roger Zelazny & Jane Lindskold

Author:Roger Zelazny & Jane Lindskold [Zelazny, Roger & Lindskold, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-08T10:38:38+00:00

SIX

Jay D’Arcy Donnerjack heard the banshee howl.

When he had returned from the Verite to the castle in Scotland some days before, it had seemed to all those who anxiously (though covertly) watched him, that the experience had not changed him in any detrimental fashion.

Dr. Hazzard’s expertise had tended to his wounds so skillfully that when the stitches and bandaging were absorbed there would not even be a scar. (Something about which Jay, himself, had mixed feelings.) He had told of his adventures with the proper mixture of awe and braggadocio, recounted the wonders that he had seen, and returned to his studies and virtventures.

Yet, sometimes, when he explored with Mizar or practiced aerial maneuvering with Alioth (Phecda, of all his childhood playmates, had not returned with any frequency after his discovery of their duplicity), a look would come into his dark eyes: wistful, thoughtful, brooding. Then some might wonder if the adventure had changed him more deeply than he had admitted—even to himself.

And so it was with him when Jay D’Arcy Donnerjack heard the banshee howl.

He was seated in his chambers reviewing irregular Latin conjunctions for his lesson with Dack when he first heard the throbbing wail. First on one note, like sobs barely contained, then rising to a shrill pitch as the sorrow found its voice. It spoke of despair, of hopelessness, of loss beyond mortal knowledge. Jay felt the hair on his arms rise.

“What was that?” he asked Dubhe, who was perched atop a high-backed chair, a quiz list in his long-fingered paw.

“I don’t know. The wind?”

“I’ve never heard the wind sound like that—and I’ve lived here all my life.”

“And I’ve never heard anything like it, except perhaps in a broken form on the edges of Deep Fields. Where are you going?”

“To find out what it is.”

“But it could be dangerous. Send one of the robots.”

“No. I want to know.”

“Jay…”

“Stay here if you want.”

“And worry?” Resignedly the monkey leapt down, walked on knuckles and hind legs to Jay’s side. “I’m with you. Just remember, bud, you’re my passport. If you get hurt, I’m a stranger in a strange land.”

“The robots will take care of you. Dack likes you. C’mon. You’re stalling. It might stop.”

The wail sounded again. Longer, more drawn out. When they stepped into the corridor, it seemed to be coming from the upper reaches of the castle. Jay turned that way: Dubhe climbed up his back to ride on his shoulder.

“You’ve gotten taller.”

“It happens.”

“I think you’re going to be as tall as your father, maybe taller. How long do humans keep growing?”

“I don’t know. Hush, now. Don’t distract me. I’m trying to track that sound.”

“I know.” This last muttered. Jay grinned.

Jay moved along the corridors, head held high to catch the faintest echoes of the cry. He had learned tracking from Mizar, who, if he did not recall his origin, still retained his most basic programming in full. Almost unconsciously, Jay weighed and discarded options, letting his feet carry him up, through the long gallery, out to one of the battlements.

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