"As for you?" Phoebe said.
"I was what they wanted to forget. I was there at the beginning-no, that's not right-I was the beginning. I was Everville, sure as if it had been built of my bones. And it didn't suit the Brawleys and the Gilhollys and the Hendersons and all the other fine upstanding families to remember that."
"So they murdered you for it?"
"they turned a blind eye to a lynching," Maeve said. "That's murder, I'd say."
"Why aren't you dead?"
"Because the bough broke. Simple as that. My sweet, loving Coker was not so lucky. His bough was strong, and by the time I came out of my faint he was cold."
"That's horrible."
"I never felt love for any creature the way I felt love for him," Maeve said. As she spoke Phoebe felt a mild tremor in the ground.
Musnakaff apparently felt it too. He turned to his mistress with a look of alan-n. "Maybe it would be best not to speak of this," he said. "Not out in the open."
"Oh pish!" Maeve said to him. "He wouldn't dare touch me. Not for telling what he knows is the truth."
The exchange puzzled Phoebe, but she didn't let it distract her from her questions.
"What about your son?" Phoebe said. "What happened to him?"
"His body was taken by beasts. He always had a stench to him. I daresay he made a better meal than Coker or me." She pondered for a moment.
"This is a terrible thing to say about your own flesh and blood, but the fact is, my son was not long for this world one way or another."
"was he sick?" "In his head, yes. And in his heart. Something in him had curdled when he was a child, and I thought for the longest time he was a cretin. I gave up trying to teach him anything. But there was malice in him, I think: terrible malice. And he was best dead." She gave Phoebe a sorrowful look. "Do you have children?" she said.
"No." "Count yourself lucky," Maeve replied.
Then, abruptly shaking off her melancholy tone, she waved Phoebe away, shouting, "Rouse yourselves!" to her bearers, and the convoy went on its way, down the steep hill.
The state of the dream-sea had changed considerably in the hours in which Phoebe had been a guest in Maeve's house. The ships in the harbor no longer lay peaceably at anchor, but pitched and bucked, tearing at their moorings like panicked thoroughbreds. The beacons that had been burning at the harbor entrance had been extinguished by the fury of the waves, which mounted steadily as the party descended. "I begin to think I'll not be able to keep my end of the bargain," Maeve said to Phoebe once they were on flat ground.
"Why not?"
"Use your eyes," Maeve replied, pointing down towards the beach, where the breakers were ten or twelve feet high. "I don't think I'll be speaking to the 'shu down there."
"Who are the 'shu?"
"Tell her," Maeve instructed Musnakaff. "And you, set e down." Once again, the convoy came to a halt. "Help me out of this contraption," Maeve demanded. The bearers sprang to do just that.
"Do you need help?" Musnakaff asked her.
"If I do I'll ask for it," Maeve replied. "Get on with educating the woman. Though Lord knows it's a little late."
"Tell me who the 'shu are," Phoebe said to Musnakaff.
"Not who, what," Musnakaff replied, his gaze drifting off towards his mistress. "What is she doing?"
"We're having a conversation here," Phoebe snapped. "She's going to do herself some harm."
"I'm going to be doing some harm of my own if you don't finish what you were saying. The 'shu-"
"Are spifit-pilots. Pieces of the Creator. Or not. There. Satisfied?" He made to go to his mistress's side, but Phoebe caught hold of him.
"No," she said. "I'm not satisfied."
"Unhand me," he said sniffily. "I will not."
"I'm warning you," he said, jabbing a beringed finger at her. "I've got more important business than-" A puzzled look crossed his face. "Did youfeel that?"
"The tremor, you mean? Yeah, there was one a few minutes ago. Some kind of earthquakes'
"I wish it were," Musnakaff said. He stared at the ground between them. Another tremor came; this the strongest so far.
"What is it then?" Phoebe said, her irritation with Musnakaff forgotten.
She got no answer. The man just turned his back on her and hurried away to the spot on the cobbled stones where Maeve was standing. She could not do so without help. Two of her bearers were supporting her, and a third waiting behind in case she should topple. "We must move on," Musnakaff called to her.
"Do you know what happened on this spot?" she said to him.
"Lady-"
"Do you?" "No."
"This is where I was standing when he first came to find me." She smiled fondly. "I told him, right at the beginning, I said to him: There'll never be anyone to replace my Coker, because Coker was the love of my life@'
At this, the ground shook more vehemently than ever.
"Hush yourself," Musnakaff said.
"What?" said Mistress O'Connell. "Hushing me? I should beat you for that." She raised her stick, and swung at Musnakaff. The blow fell short of its mark, and Maeve lost her balance. Her bearers might have saved her from failing, but she was in a fine fury, and kept flailing even as she toppled. The stick struck the bearer to her right, and he went down, bloodynosed. The man who had been watching over her from behind stepped in to catch hold of her, but as he did so she took another stumbling step towards Musnakaff, swinging again. This time she connected, the blow so hard her stick broke. Then she went down, carrying the bearer to her left-who had not relinquished big hold on her for an instant@own with her.
As she struck the ground, her fall cushioned by the sheer profusion of her shirts and coats, the ground shuddered yet again. But this time, the tremor did not die away. It continued to escalate, turning over the unattended sedan, and sending the guard who had been leading the procession scurrying back up the hill.
"Damn you, woman!" Musnakaff hollered to Maeve as he went to help pick her up. "Now look what you've done."
"What's happening?" Phoebe yelled.
"It's him!" Musnakaff said. "He heard her! I knew he would."
"King Texas?"
Before Musnakaff could reply the street shook from end to end, and this time the ground cracked open. These were not fissures, like those Phoebe had skipped on Hartnon's Heights. There was nothing irregular about them; nothing arbitrary. they were elegantly shaped, carving arabesques in the paving, and everywhere joining up, so that within moments the entire street looked like an immense jigsaw puzzle.
"Everybody stay where they are," Musnakaff said, his voice trembling.
"Don't anybody move." Phoebe did as she was instructed. "Tell him you're sorry," Musnakaff yelled to...aeve. "Quickly!"
With the help of her two conscious bearers the woman had got to her knees. "I've got nothing to apologize for," Maeve said.
"God, you are a stubborn woman!" Musnakaff roared, and raised his arm as if to strike her.
"Don't," Phoebe yelled at him. She'd lost most of her patience with Maeve in the last half-hour, but the sight of her about to be struck brought back painful memories.
She'd no sooner spoken than the divided ground shook afresh, and pieces of the jigsaw fell away, leaving holes three, four, even five feet across in a dozen places. The chill out of them made the icy air seem balmy.
"I told you," Musnakaff said, his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. Phoebe's eyes darted from one hole to the next, wondering which one the lovelorn King Texas was going to emerge from. "We should never... never