The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction SeptemberOctober 2013 (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction Book 125) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spilogale, Inc.
Published: 2013-11-12T23:00:00+00:00

FAIR AS THE WEATHER WAS, it also proved fickle. Cold rain pelted and the wind began its harassments. The crowd of musicians that originally sprawled on the Wollox lawns could never have fit into the round manor, but their numbers were now sufficiently reduced that they packed in without much trouble at Ardie's enthusiastic invitation. Tents and damp blankets were crumpled into piles that steamed and reeked before vast crackling fireplaces. Couches and divans and luxurious beds were soon claimed, and all seemed pitifully grateful for the comforts. Some kind of malady had swept through the encampment—something contracted from the local waters or leached from the sodden lawns. Few escaped the affliction, characterized by ringing ears, swollen eyes and raw throat, a constant thudding of the head that beat counterpoint to one's pulse, and loss of appetite or energy. The musicians were weirdly quiet, small and pale and without their usual playful spirit. This was somewhat of a disappointment to Ardie, who wandered through the chambers exhorting his guests to enjoy themselves to the utmost, only to find them constitutionally unable. And this was a group for whom the continual pursuit of pleasure and distraction came as easily as play to small children.

Gorlen felt poorly, and gave thanks that Spar was still preoccupied, otherwise the goyle might have appeared to urge immediate resumption of their march. Even the thought of further journeying was torture at that moment. His hand of stone for once felt lighter and more pliant than his hand of flesh. So yes, Spar would want to walk.

Gorlen wished only to recline.

Haff's state was even more alarming. The rotund fellow looked as if a skinny stranger had stolen into his clothes; they hung on him like draperies rather than vestments. And although it was not like him to begrudge the young lord his pleasure, he began to grumble and whine when Ardie begged him to erect his smokebag in the Round Room. Ardie wished to attempt an organ and smokebag duet once the erratic Wollox winds began to blow.

Gorlen helped Haff haul the kit into the circular chamber and set up its framework of struts and supports, and left him draping the bag across the weave of straps that would support it once inflated. Then, pitying the fellow for his irresistible instrument, he went in search of a couch or uninhabited corner where he could collapse in peace.

On his way out of the Round Room, he nearly collided with a woman coming in. She was a striking figure indeed, at once recognizable as a Wollox, and almost Ardie's twin but for the spectacles, fuller figure, and, if anything, even more unruly hair. She was exceedingly pale, and preoccupied enough with some crisis that she did not give him a second glance. She pushed right past him and went straight to her brother, who sat cross-legged on his organ bench, impatient for Haff to finish assembling his instrument.

"Ardentine, we need to speak," she said. "Clear the room of your vagabond associates.

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