“—and I’m an idiot for just standing here gawping,” I said, and gathered her in. She was dressed like the other wives I’d seen, but if she’d been out there too I wouldn’t have seen them.
She responded. She knew how.
“What’s a Nidiot?” Val asked from the floor. She pondered the matter. “Well, Daddy’s a good Nidiot.”
Svartalf switched his tail and looked skeptical.
I relaxed my hold on Ginny a trifle. She ran her fingers through my hair. “Wow, she murmured. “What brought that on, tiger?”
“Daddy’s a woof,” Val corrected her.
“You can call me tiger today,” I said, feeling happier by the minute.
Ginny leered. “Okay, pussycat.”
“Wait a bit—”
She shrugged. The red tresses moved along her shoulders. “Well, if you insist, okay, Lame Thief of, the Waingunga.”
Val regarded us sternly. “When you fwoo wif you’s heads,” she directed, “put ’em outside to melt.”
The logic of this, and the business of getting the cherub rig off her, took time to unravel. Not until oor offspring was bottoms up on the living-room floor, watching cartoons on the crystal ball, and I was in the kitchen watching Ginny start supper, did we get the chance to talk.
“How come you’re home so early?” she asked.
“How’d you like to reactivate the old outfit tonight?” I replied.
“Which?”
“Matuchek and Graylock—no, Matuchek and Matuchek—Troubleshooters Extraordinary, Licensed Confounders of the Ungodly.”
She put down her work and gave me a long look. “What are you getting at, Steve?”
“You’ll see it on the ball, come news time,” I answered. “We aren’t simply being picketed any more. They’ve moved onto the grounds. They’re blocking every doorway. Our personnel had to leave by skylight, and rocks got thrown at some of them.”
She was surprised and indignant, but kept the coolness she showed to the world outside this house. “You didn’t call the police?”
“Sure, we did. I listened in, along with Barney, since Roberts thought a combat veteran might have some useful ideas. We can get police help if we want it. The demonstrators have turned into trespassers; and windows are broken, walls defaced with obscene slogans, that sort of thing. Our legal case is plenty clear. Only the opposition is out for trouble. Trouble for us, as much as possible, but mainly they’re after martyrs. They’ll resist any attempt to disperse them. Just like the fracas in New York last month. A lot of these characters are students too. Imagine the headlines: Police Brutality Against Idealistic Youths. Peaceful Protesters Set On With Clubs and Geas Casters.
“Remember, this is a gut issue. Nornwell manufactures a lot of police and defense equipment, like witchmark fluorescers and basilisk goggles. We’re under contract to develop more kinds. The police and the armed forces serve the Establishment. The Establishment is evil. Therefore Nornwell must be shut down.”
“Quod erat demonstrandum about,” she sighed.”
The chief told us that an official move to break up the invasion would mean bloodshed, which might touch off riots at the University, along Merlin Avenue—Lord knows where it could lead. He asked us to stop work for the rest of the week, to see if this affair won’t blow over. We’d probably have to, anyway. Quite a few of our men told their supervisors they’re frankly scared to come back, the way things are.”
The contained fury sparked in her eyes. “If you knuckle under,” she said, “they’ll proceed to the next on their list.”
“You know it,” I said. “We all do. But there is that martyrdom effect. There are those Johnny priests ready to deliver yet another sanctimonious sermon about innocent blood equals the blood of the Lamb. There’s a country full of well-intentioned bewildered people who’ll wonder if maybe the Petrine churches aren’t really on the way out, when the society that grew from them has to use violence against members of the Church of Love. Besides, let’s face the fact, darling, violence has never worked against civil disobedience.
“Come back and tell me that after the machine guns have talked,” she said.
“Yeah, sure. But who’d want to preserve a government that resorts to massacre? I’d sooner turn Johnny myself. The upshot is, Nornwell can’t ask the police to clear its property for it.”
Ginny cocked her head at me. “You don’t look too miserable about this.”
I laughed. “No. Barney and I brooded over the problem for a while and hatched us quite an egg; I’m actually enjoying myself by now, sort of. Life’s too tame of late. Which is why I asked if you’d like get in on the fun.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. The sooner the better. I’ll give you the details after our young hopeful’s gone to bed.”
Ginny’s own growing smile faded. “I’m not sure I can get a sitter on notice that short. This is final exam week at the high school.”
“Well, if you can’t, what about Svartalf?” I suggested. “You won’t be needing a familiar, and he can see to the elementary things, keep guard, dash next door and yowl a neighbor awake if she gets collywobbles—”
“She might wake up and want us,” Ginny objected, not too strongly.
I disposed of that by reminding her we’d bought a sleep watcher for Val, after a brief period when she seemed to have occasional nightmares. The little tin soldier didn’t merely stand by her bed, the dream of him stood with his musket at the edge of her dreams, ready to chase away anything scary. I don’t believe gadgets can substitute for parental love and presence; but they help a lot.
Ginny agreed. I could see the eagerness build up in her. Though she’d accepted a housewife’s role for the time being, no race horse really belongs on a plowing team.
In this fashion did we prepare the way for hell to break loose, literally.
XXI
The night fell moonless, a slight haze dulling the 1 stars. We left soon after, clad alike in black sweaters and slacks, headlights off. Witch-sight enabled us to make a flight that was safe if illegal, high over the city’s constellated windows and lamps until our stick, swung downward again toward the industrial section. It lay still darker and emptier than was normal at this hour. I saw practically no tiny bluish glimmers flit around the bulks of shops and warehouses. The Good Folk were passing up their nocturnal opportunity for revels and curious window-peeking when man wasn’t around. That which was going on had frightened them.
It centered on Nornwell’s grounds. They shone forth, an uneasy auroral glow in a air. As we neared, the wind that slid past, stroking and whispering to me bore odors-flesh and sweat, incense, an electric acridity of paranatural energies. The hair stood erect along my spine. I was content not be in wolf-shape to get the full impact of that last.
The paved area around the main building was packed close to solid with bodies. So was the garden that made our workers’ warm-weather lunches pleasant, nothing remained of it except mud and cigaret stubs. I estimated five hundred persons altogether, blocking any except aerial access. Their mass was not restless, but the movement of individuals created an endless rippling through it, and the talk and footshuffle gave those waves a voice.
Near the sheds, our lot was less crowded. Scattered people there were taking a break from the vigil to fix a snack or flake out in a sleeping bag. They kept a respectful distance from a portable altar at the far end, though from time to time, someone would kneel in its direction.
I whistled, long and low. “That’s arrived since I left.” Ginny’s arms caught tighter around my waist.
A Johannine priest was holding service. Altitude or no, we couldn’t mistake his white robe, high-pitched minor-key chanting, spread-eagle stance which he could maintain for hours, the tau crucifix that gleamed tall and gaunt behind the altar, the four talismans—Cup, wand, sword, and Disc—upon it. Two acolytes swung censers whence came the smoke that sweetened and, somehow, chilled the air.