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giant trying to sob and gurgle at the same time."
She said softly, "I think you're going to get to go to Farfrom, Jack."
"You mean it's the dragon?"
She didn't answer but leaped over a fallen log. He reached out his free hand and clutched her
arm.
"How do you know it's the same dragon? Maybe it's one that's not made a contract?''
"I didn't say it was a dragon."
She was standing close to him, her naked arm and hip brushing his.
He strained his eyes to make out shapes in the gloom.
"Maybe it's a mad tailbear. This is the season. And you know what one bite means."
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"Oh!" she breathed, and she moved closer. Un-thinkingly, he gave way to his protective feeling --
later he excused himself by saying she'd reminded him of his younger sisters -- and put his arm around
her waist.
Her eyes were half closed, so he could not see the light in them. Thinking back on that particular
moment during the succeeding days, and he did much of that, he remembered the slight smile on her lips.
Were those indentations the marks of amusement? And if he could have read her eyes, would he have
seen that their expression matched her lips? That she was not at all frightened but was laughing at him?
Or would there have been a third emotion? Whatever he thought later, he had no doubt at that
instant. He forgot about the mysterious danger ahead. His arm squeezed her waist, pulling her to him. He
was breathless. Human or not, there was no woman as beautiful as she or as desirable.
The peculiar rumble brought him back to his senses. Dropping his arm, he stepped up ahead of
her where she could not see his face.
"You stay behind," he said in a choking voice. "I don't know what it is, but it sounds very large."
"It also sounds very sick," she added. Her voice held the same breathlessness as his.
He pushed through the vegetation.
Somewhere, hidden in the green tangle but near, a behemoth retched.
Tony burst in.
His mother, sisters, and brothers were half raised from their chairs and staring at their father with
astonishment, rage, fear, or barely hidden amusement. The master of the house was the only one yet
sitting; he was as if struck by a club. Nor could he have been more paralyzed. His half-bald head was
covered with thick, yellow, and steaming egg pudding; a viscous cataract flowed down his face and sank
into his beard.
Lunk Croatan was a wax dummy. The bowl remained upside down in his hands. His brown face
was opened wide: jaw hanging, nostrils flared, eyes round.
There was no telling what might have happened next, for Master Cage was not a man to take
such things laughingly, even though accidental. That is, if it were an accident, for in the following moment
Lunk's eyes closed, his eyes wrinkled, his nostrils pinched, and the thin lips curved into an idiotic grin.
Giggling, he blew out a cloud of wine.
Wherever Walt's skin showed beneath the yellow flood, it was turning red. The volcano was
evidently ready to blow.
Then Tony chortled, "We're rich! Rich!"
Only that word could have sidetracked his father's gathering wrath. He turned to Tony and said,
"What? What did you say?"
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"Rich!" squealed his youngest. He ran to Walt and grabbed his hand. "Come on. Jack's outside!
Stinking rich!" He laughed wildly. "I mean it. He's stinking, and he's wealthy!"
His mother could endure no more. She rushed past Tony and bumped into her husband just as he
was rising. Though he outweighed her by a hundred pounds, he was off balance enough so that the
im-pact toppled him back into his chair.
At any other time, Kate would have been very flustered. Now she only said "Oh!" and left him
speechless and red on his chair.
Behind her came her flock, pushing and shoving. Lunk stepped aside for them, picked up a large
napkin from the sideboard, and began wiping off his master's face and beard. He did not apologize; he
only giggled.
Walt swore, tore the cloth from the servant's grip, and stomped out onto the front porch.
It was a curious scene for a homecoming. Everybody was standing around Jack, but no one, not
even his mother, would go close to him. Some, especially his sisters, were beginning to turn pale. And all
were paying more attention to what Jack had placed on the porch table than they were to him.
The moment Walt stepped outside, he stopped. He dragged in a deep breath, coughed, and then
almost strangled. Now he knew what Tony's words meant.
If the father was astonished, the son was not less so.
"Great Dyonis!" said Jack. "What happened to you?"
"That fool Lunk," growled Walt, as if that ex-plained it. "Never mind." He pointed at the mass on
the table. It was round and large as a man's head, gelatinous and gray, and it gave the illusion of always
quivering, as if it were alive and shaking with terror because it had no skin.
"That's a gluepearl? Right?"
"Yes, Dad. While I was on my way home, I heard a sicktree retching in the forest."
"Sicktree?Close to home? Man alive, how did we ever miss it? Right on our doorstep, so to
speak. And the horstels?"
"I imagine they knew all about it. They just didn't want to say anything about it."
"Isn't that like them? All the money that sicktree represented, and they were keeping it for
them-selves."
"Not exactly."
Jack hated to tell his father about R'li and how he was obligated to her. He was going to explain
later. Anyway, she'd refused to split the money he would get for the rare perfume base. It was her
contractright to claim half of it, but she'd insisted it was all Jack's. Nor would she explain why. Not at that
time, at least.
Jack had been reluctant for it to stand that way. He could not help thinking of her murdered
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cousin. His blood had scarcely been washed off before she was leading Jack to the costly forest prize. It
was no accident they'd found it, he was sure of that. On the way home he'd analyzed the steps leading to
its discovery. He knew why she had been determined he should have all the money that would come
from its sale. One way or the other, her kind was going to see that he went to Farfrom. And when he
came back, he was scheduled to stand in Parliament as their speaker.
That's what they thought.
"You see," he explained to his father, "the Wiyr know what they're doing. It takes thirty or more
years for a sicktree to develop a mature gluepearl. If it was known one was around here, how long do
you think it'd be before some merchant or highwayman would be chopping the tree down to dig out the
con-cretion, even if it were only half grown? Thus, the full value wouldn't be realized, and there'd be no
more future gluepearls. No. They knew what they were doing."
"Maybe so," said Walt. "But, son, what a fabulous stroke of fortune that you should be going by
just when it was retching. Fabulous!"
Unhappily, Jack nodded.
Walt looked at the scimitar at his son's side. He opened his mouth as if to reproach him for
having taken it. Then he shut it.
Jack could read the thought in his head. If his son had not taken the blade without permission and
gone off on that quest, he would not have found the gluepearl. Even now, the gray mass might be lying on
the ground at the foot of the tree, undiscovered androtting, three thousand pounds worth, rotting, rot-ting
away. . .
Suddenly, as if awakening, Walt started, looked at Jack, and grinned. "Son! You stink! But no
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