Orb fit right in with the show. This was partly because of her recent experience with the Gypsies; she
had learned to adapt to other ways with grace, and this group was Gypsy like in a fashion, though a
purely commercial venture. She knew it was principally her music that won the others over.
The master introduced her to those others. "This is Orb from Ireland," he said. "She will travel with us,
and she will be the main attraction and have the best wagon. Listen to her."
The others stared stonily at her, angry that an outsider should so abruptly find favor. Then Orb put her
fingers to her harp and sang. The music and the magic reached out and embraced them, and they melted,
as the master had known they would.
She completed her song. "How many rupees do you figure she'll bring in?" the master asked.
Orb saw them nod. The mermaid in her tank of water, the harpy on her perch, the exotic snake dancer,
the illusionist magician, the assistants and handymen and animal trainers all of them recognized that her
act would make money for them all, and that was the point of this show. Anything could be forgiven if it
profited the group.
Still, Orb intended to get to know each of them personally and to avoid assuming any airs. She was not
in it for the money, and she needed to foster no private resentments.
The show moved out of Calcutta. The wagons were hauled by elephants, who were guided by mahouts.
At first Orb sat in front, fascinated by this mode of travel, but soon lost interest. Most of what there was
to see was the enormous rump of the elephant. So she rode inside her wagon, which was like a cramped
house, with chairs, a bed, and a hotplate to cook on, and tried to read a book. But the road was bumpy,
and she had read the book before, so she could not escape boredom that way. She craved human
company.
She jumped down from the slow-moving wagon and waited for the following vehicle to pass. This
happened to be the one containing the mermaid's tank. "May I join you?" Orb called.
A hand appeared, beckoning her. Orb jumped onto the wagon and got next to the huge tank. The
mermaid lifted her head from the water, and the water in her lungs spewed out as she cleared them for
air. This was startling, but Orb realized it was natural; the creature had to adapt to the element she was in
at the moment.
"I realize you don't talk," Orb said. "But you do understand, don't you? I am lonely, and I would
appreciate company, if you don't mind."
The creature gazed at her. Her head was that of a human woman a bit beyond the flush of youth, and her
hair was greenish and somewhat straggly when out of the water, but her breasts were quite well formed.
The scales commenced at about the level of the waist, and thickened below, providing a completely
decent covering for her nether portion. Her tail was strong and healthy, and it swept slowly through the
water, keeping her aloft. There were gill slits along her neck where it merged with her torso, and some
farther down along her sides; water still flowed from these.
"Forgive me if I am being impolite," Orb said. "I have never met a mermaid before. The closest I have
come was in childhood, with river sprites. But they were human in form-I mean they had legs."
The mermaid only looked at her. "A curse on me!" Orb muttered in Calo. "I'm only affronting her!"
The mermaid smiled. "You speak the tongue!" she exclaimed in the same language.
Orb gaped. "I thought you didn't-"
"I speak-when I choose," the mermaid said. "But few are worth speaking to."
"But how-I thought you were a creature of the sea!"
"But my father was a man," the mermaid said. "He annoyed a magician by luring away his wife. Gypsies
are like that. So the magician put him under a curse that made human women resemble fish in his eyes,
and vice versa. Thus he found romantic solace thereafter only in the water. My mother was unable to
care for me, because I can't endure the pressure of the deeps, so my father cared for me as well as he
could on land. Finally he sold me to this show, and I have been earning back my stake. It is not a bad
life; I meet interesting creatures." Her gills, finally clear of the draining water, closed up, becoming
unobtrusive lines; the portion of her above the water now looked completely human.
Orb recovered her composure. "But you are being touted as-forgive me-as a freak. A creature who kisses
men for a fee."
"I like kissing men," the mermaid said. "And more, on occasion. They are so warm, so dry, so lusty."
"More?" Orb hoped she misunderstood.
"My scales are only external; I am mammalian inside. I can be with a man if he likes it in the water. The
mahouts know."
She had not misunderstood. "But-why?"
"Why not? I get bored and lonely, too."
Orb nodded, her tolerance advancing another stage. How bored would she herself get, if confined to a
tank of water all her life? The company of anyone, on any basis, might become increasingly attractive.
"I-would you like me to read to you? Or do you already read?"
"Men have not shown interest in teaching me to read," the mermaid said. She gave her torso a little
shake, suggesting the aspect of her in which men showed interest.
"I-I could teach you, if you would like-but my books are in English-"
"I know a little English," the mermaid said. "I don't speak it because they say my pronunciation is
fishy."
"Someone is teasing you!" Orb snapped. "That's cruel."
The mermaid shrugged. "The freaks learn to accept such things."
"You're not a freak, you're a person!" Orb cried.
The mermaid smiled. "Don't tell anyone; I would lose my livelihood."
Another notion occurred. "The harpy-is she-?"
"Much the same," the mermaid agreed. "If she stopped cursing people, they would not pay to see her."
"I mean-an enchantment?"
"I think so. It is a favored vengeance of magicians. They are not concerned about the offspring. A
crossbreed could get bitter, if she pondered overlong on the matter."
"I should imagine so! But I wonder-would the harpy also like to learn to read? There is a whole world of
entertainment and education in books. No need to-to be with men unless-unless a person really wanted
to."
"Ask her. Perhaps we could have a class."
Orb made her way to the harpy's wagon. "What do you want, you simpering slut?" the harpy screeched.
"I-the mermaid-we thought that if you cared to learn to read in English, I could teach you-"
The creature considered. "You're not putting me on?"
"No. It just seemed-I mean, I get bored myself, with all this travel, and-"
"When's it start?"
"Why, anytime. Now, if-"
"Well, come on, woman!" The harpy opened her cage by shoving at the gate with a claw, jumped out,
spread her wings, and flapped heavily out of the wagon.
Orb followed. Soon they were at the mermaid's tank, and Orb had her book. The lesson began.
Word spread, and next day a mahout joined the class. Before long there were half a dozen members.
They met for an hour every morning and another every afternoon, while traveling. Progress was slow,
but they had time.
Thus it was that the months passed as they crossed the great continent of India. Orb once again had
found herself in a role she had never anticipated, but again it made sense, for she liked helping people.
She hardly noticed the kingdoms they toured; one was much like another, the crowds as gawky in each,
the thrown coins the only recompense for the performances. No one seemed to know anything tangible
of the Llano, but this life seemed worthwhile for itself.
A man came to Orb's wagon one evening after a performance. He was not impressive. He was short, and
his face was swathed in bandages so that only his eyes, nose, and mouth showed. He wore a dirty gray
shawl. She took him for a laborer, for he wore the mark of the Sudra caste, the servant class, though his
color and mien could have suggested a higher classification.
Orb suffered a feeling of deja vu, but could not place it. There was something about this person. "Yes?"
she inquired. She wasn't afraid; few spectators intended mischief, and the members of the troupe kept
alert for each other; if the man threatened her, there would quickly be several workers and perhaps a
mahout with his elephant on the spot. What was it about him that nagged her?
The man opened his mouth, but did not speak. Instead he gestured, as if helpless.
"I am sorry," she said. "I can see that you have been injured, but I do not speak the local dialect. Do you
know English?"
The man tried again. His mouth worked, and finally the sounds came out. "Ah-ah-ah-I do," he said.
She glanced sharply at him, tilting her head. "You are shy?" she inquired, her sympathy manifesting.
"There is no need to be. What is it that you wish?"
The man struggled again to speak. "N-n-n-not sh-shshy," he said. "I st-st-stu-stu-stutter."
A stutterer! She should have realized. Now her sympathy took over entirely. "Come inside."
They sat facing each other. The man did not speak, and she realized that she had to carry it. "I have not
before talked directly with a person with your problem. Forgive me if I am clumsy; I don't quite know
how to help you."
He struggled, and she had the wit not to interrupt him or try to complete words for him, though his effort
of communication was laborious and almost painful. What he wanted, it turned out, was help to leave
the kingdom. He was not, he claimed, a criminal; he merely needed anonymity.
What should she do? The man seemed sincere, but of course a criminal would do his best to deceive a
potential helper. Then she remembered one of the special qualities of her harp. It could not be stolen
from her, because it would not suffer the touch of a dishonest person, and a thief would be dishonest. If
this man could touch it, then she could believe him.
She explained this. Without hesitation the man reached out and touched the harp with his finger. There
was no reaction.
Orb smiled with relief. "Now let us be introduced," she said. "I am Orb Kaftan, and as you may have
heard, I sing."
"I-must not tell you my identity," the man said haltingly. "I am not injured; I wear the bandage to
conceal my face."
"Oh-you mean you are a political refugee?"
"Ap-ap-ap-approx-i-i-mately," he said. His stuttering had been alleviating slightly as he relaxed, but that
word was difficult.
An indirect answer. But the harp had vindicated him, so she accepted it. "May I see your face?"
He unwound the bandage. His face was clear and handsome, almost aristocratic, in the fashion of the
people of India. Again Orb experienced that feeling of familiarity, as if she had known him before. She
had not, of course. "But I must not show it openly," he said.
Orb considered. The show was chronically in need of animal tenders and menials. If he were willing to.
He was. She fetched him a clown mask so that he would not have to wear the bandages, explaining that
most of the entertainers were also workers, every person earning his keep, so it would not seem unusual
for a clown to be seen cleaning an animal cage. In fact, those who cleaned out the dragon manure
generally did wear clown suits, because the dragon was less surly when entertained. The master was
glad to have another hand, since the pay for this level was only board and room-a bowl to share the main
pot at meals, and a spot on a wagon. Thus the stranger joined the troupe, and Orb was pleased that she
had been able to help another person.
A few days later, he came to her again: he thought he could perform. "My mouth may be handicapped,
but not my body," he explained haltingly.
She took him to the tour master, who was large and fat and no-nonsense. "Strut your stuff," the master
said. "I have no time to waste on would-be stars." The clown amazed Orb by doing a front flip, a back
flip, and standing on his hands. He was an acrobat!
At the master's behest, he repeated the performance on top of the horizontal branch of a tree.
"What else?" the master asked, affecting to be unimpressed. That was significant; usually the affectation
was unnecessary.
The clown juggled five sharp knives.
"What else?"
The clown had evidently prepared for this. He went into a mime act, doing a clever imitation of a
warrior whose sword kept getting in his way. He had no costume and no sword, but it came across
clearly. When he managed to spear his own foot, the master smiled. When he tried to sheathe the blade
rapidly and passed it through his crotch instead, the master laughed.
"You got it, mime! Work up a complete act; I'll put you on pay. We'll call you-um, let's see." The master
stroked his chin. "The Mime. No, Mym. Mym the Mime! You've got a talent, boy. Wish I'd known
before."
Orb was as impressed as the tour master. Who was this man, who had accepted such lowly status, yet
had such talents? She went about her business as usual, but now she was aware of Mym, her fellow
performer.
When they came to the huge city of Ahmadabad, Orb decided to go shopping. The tour master insisted
that she have protection. Thus Mym, wearing an artificial beard and a nondescript tunic, accompanied
her.
She was delighted with the wares, proceeding from stall to stall. Such fine material! Such lovely
trinkets! But all too soon Mym caught her arm, signaling that they should depart. Reluctantly she
concluded her purchase and started back with him.
He seemed nervous. He guided her into an alley. Then she realized what had been bothering him, as five
brutish men closed in on them. Thuggees-the local cutthroats!
"Hide!" Mym told her beside some old wooden crates.
She hastened to obey, knowing that she could do nothing to help. He took a board and faced the ugly
men. It seemed a pitiful weapon against a single man, let alone five. Orb was very much afraid that the
two of them were in for a robbery and beating and perhaps worse.
Her amulet! Could it protect them both? No, it could not protect even one in a case like this, because
while she nullified one thug by touching him, the others could strike with their swords.
She heard the men exclaiming, laughing at Mym. Oh, if only she could do something! Perhaps if she
sang!
Then there was an abrupt commotion.
In a moment Mym was back, bearing his silk handkerchief. He required her to be veiled, so she could
not see. He guided her out of the crates and out of the alley. Then he unveiled her, and they resumed
their walk back to the caravan. The thuggees were gone. Evidently he had somehow frightened them off.
Orb was relieved to make it back safely. She had been really worried for a moment! Now she
understood the tour master's concern about safety in the big city. The delight of shopping in the bazaar
was not worth the danger.
A few days later the tour master came to talk with her. "What do you know about thuggees?" he asked.
"Very little," Orb said. "Mym and I were broached by some in the city, but he persuaded them not to
molest us. Your concern was well taken."
"He persuaded them?" the master asked, wrinkling his brow. "What did he say to them?"
"Well, he didn't really talk to them. He-he has difficulty talking, you know."
"Did he signal them in some way? Give them money? What?"
"I really didn't see," she confessed. "I was hiding, at his behest. Then he blindfolded me and brought me
out. I think that was so I wouldn't see the thuggees. Perhaps it was part of the agreement, so I couldn't
identify them." But that made little sense to her as she said it, because she had seen the thuggees before.
"You saw nothing," the master said, as if making a point.
"Nothing. Why, is something wrong?"
"I hope not," the master said, and departed, leaving her perplexed.
On the next reading session, Orb took a moment to inquire about this matter. "The tour master was
questioning me about thuggees," she said. "Is there something I should know about?"
"You haven't heard?" the harpy screeched, flapping her wings with excitement. "Five thuggees were
found in town, hacked into pieces. Blood splattered all over, and-"
"Watch it, birdbrain!" the mermaid snapped.
"Dead?" Orb asked, stunned.
"Probably they went after a berserker and got wiped out," the mermaid said. "After they left you."
"A berserker?"
"You don't know about berserkers?" the harpy cried. "One taste of blood, and they go absolutely wild
and just start killing, like sharks, and nothing stops them! They just cut and hack and-"
"Finally get killed themselves," the mermaid said firmly, again cutting off the harpy's joyful description.
"So whatever happened, it's over now, because the only peaceful berserker is a dead berserker."
"That's horrible," Orb said, shuddering. "I'm glad we didn't encounter a berserker!"
The harpy fluttered her wings. "Well, I think-"
"Let's get on with the reading," the mermaid said, with a fierce warning glance at the harpy.
Orb proceeded with the lesson, but she was ill at ease. There seemed to be something they weren't
telling her.
Later, she asked Mym about it. "Did you know that those thuggees we encountered were found
slaughtered? How do you suppose that happened?"
"A berserker," he said, stuttering so badly that she decided to spare him further talking for a while.
Evidently the matter had come to his attention, too, and disturbed him as it did her.
They were in her wagon, suffering through a long wait while a downpour of the monsoon season
inundated the landscape. Some wagons leaked, but Orb's was tight, and it was an excellent place to be.
"I think we should get to know each other better," she said. "We're-well, we're fellow performers now,
and-" She shrugged, finding herself unable to say directly that she very much enjoyed his company.
Mym, so unprepossessing at first, was a handsome, talented, and decent man, and the mystery of his
origin made him intriguing.
He nodded, agreeable to whatever she wished. That was another thing about him-he was a gentleman.
The mermaid had hinted to Orb that Mym was quite interested in her, and Pythea the snake charmer had
said the same. Both confessed to having offered Mym entertainment of the intimate kind, but he had
declined because his interest was elsewhere. Orb had blushed, then found herself flattered, and was
developing more than an idle interest in Mym herself. She knew he would never force on her any
attention she did not want; she felt safe with him and comfortable, and that counted for a lot.
She told him of her history, such as it was: her youth in Ireland; the acquisition of her magic harp from
the Mountain King; and her quest for the Llano. He listened closely and, when she came to the song, he
said he had heard of it.
"You have?" she asked, excited.
He told her a variant of one of the stories she had heard before-how a young woman had loved an
esteemed warrior and captured his love by singing the Llano, even though she was of lesser birth than
he, and not beautiful.
Orb smiled, glad to have this confirmation. "Of course it couldn't happen in real life," she said.
"It could happen," he said haltingly.
She looked at him, understanding that what the girls had told her was true. The rain beat down, making
the wagon seem more protected and intimate. She wished she could what? Embrace him? She had never
done that with a man, in the romantic sense. "But of course you're not a prince. Not that it matters,
Mym. I-have been growing very fond of you, even-"
"I-I-I-I-" He was unable to get the words out at all.
She put her hand on his. "It doesn't matter, Mym. You don't need to speak to me in words." But she
knew it did matter, to him.
Then she had a bright notion. "I have heard that sometimes-Mym, can you sing?"
"S-s-s-sing?" he asked blankly.
"It invokes a different portion of the brain, as I understand it. So some stutterers can sing clearly, even
though they can't talk. Come, try it; sing with me." And she launched into one of her Irish songs: "O
Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, From glen to glen, and down the mountain side."
Doubtfully, he joined her: "And from the trees, the leaves, the leaves are falling, Tis you, 'tis you must
go and I must bide."
They both paused, astonished. He had not only managed to sing it without stuttering, he had sung it
clearly and well.
"You could make it as a singer!" she exclaimed.
"I-I-I-I could!" he agreed, awed.
"No-sing it," she urged him. "You don't need a song; just hold the note, any note."
"I can!" he sang in a level note.
"Now you can say anything you want to!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Mym, I'm so pleased!" And she flung her
arms about his neck and kissed him.
For a moment he responded. Then he withdrew. "I must not," he sang.
"Not?" Orb tried not to feel rejected. Freed of his incapacity in this miraculous way, Mym became far
more expressive. "I am not what I seem," he sang. "I am a prince." He went on to explain how his name
was Pride of the Kingdom, and he was the second son of the Rajah of Gujarat. He had been confined to
the palace because his father did not want his speech impediment to embarrass the family. He had been
trained in every royal art, particularly that of combat, just in case anything should happen to his brother.
Ashamed, Mym had fled the palace and hidden from his family, aided by a magic charm he possessed.
Until he had attended the show and heard Orb sing. Then He shrugged. It was obvious that he had been
captivated by her from the outset; now he had confessed it. Her heart went out to him. Then she
remembered the other mystery. "Those thuggees-"
Then he confessed to that, too. As a prince, he hated such vermin, and when they had threatened her, he
had drawn upon his devastating combat skills and slaughtered them all. "I blindfolded you," he sang, "so
that you would not see their bodies."
Orb turned away, crushed. Her worst concern had been confirmed. Mym was a killer, perhaps close to a
berserker. How could she associate with him?
When she looked again, he was gone. He had known how this news hurt her. She saw now that the
mermaid had suspected and protected her from this revelation. Orb was at heart an innocent girl.
She threw herself on her bunk and sobbed.
But as the night passed, and the next day, and the rain abated and allowed them to proceed to their next
station, her horror ameliorated. The mermaid was helpful, reminding her of her probable fate had Mym
not acted as he had against the thuggees. "No man who goes beserk at the thought of a threat to the
woman he loves can be called evil," she said. The others in the class agreed, even the harpy. "I'd love to
have a man mangle bodies for me!" she screeched.
So it was that Orb's horror metamorphosed to an opposite emotion of similar intensity, and she realized
that she loved Mym. She nerved herself and went to him to apologize.
"Forgiven!" he sang immediately.
She flung her arms around him and kissed him.
After an enchanted moment he drew back. "I am a prince," he reminded her in his new singsong.
She hardly cared about that; royalty meant little to her. "I will remain with you here in India, if I need
to," she said.
"No, no!" he sang. "You must continue your quest for the Llano! I would not deny you your dream!"
"But I think I have found my dream, in you," she said. Her heart, so long her own, seemed to be
inflamed, but it was a wonderful feeling. She had never known such love before.
"Only part of it, only part," he demurred. "And that part you can have without sacrificing the other. I
will go with you, wherever your quest leads."
She smiled. "You are truly the most wonderful of men." Then she kissed him again, savoring the
amazing new emotion.
She drew back her head to look at him, struck by something. "Turn your head," she said abruptly.
He obliged, uncertain of her intent.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You are he! That's why you looked familiar!"
"Who?" he sang.
"The man of my dream! I really have found you!"
He shook his head, perplexed. Then she explained about her childhood vision of walking down an aisle
on the arm of a man she could never quite see, except for a glimpse of his profile. "You are that man!"
"I should be glad to be in your dreams," he sang. "But I am not certain how I entered that one!"
"It was a dream of marriage," she said. "Don't desert it."
"I shall try not to," he agreed.
That night Mym moved into her wagon. The news of their romance had spread across the troupe at a
velocity that left light somewhat behind, and Mym's belongings had traveled here before he knew of it.
They lay together, not making love, just simply holding each other. Mym had, he confessed, known
many women in sexual detail; it was expected of a prince, and concubines were a rupee a dozen. But he
had never been in love. Orb admitted she had no experience in either love or sex, and had never felt the
lack, until now.
"The touch of your hand is melody to me," he told her.
"That's just my magic!" she reproved him. He laughed, and they kissed and kissed again.
On other nights they did make love, many times and with abandon, but it was only an affirmation of
their love, not an end in itself. She just wanted to be with him as closely as she could.
Meanwhile, the show went on, and the months passed. They traversed India and crossed the Indus River.
The end of Orb's tour with the carnival was approaching, and she had not found the Llano, but she didn't
care; she had found Mym instead.
But at the outskirts of Karachi, disaster came riding on horseback. An officer of Gujarat, Mym's
kingdom, appeared. "Prince, we have come for you!" he called. "The Prince, your brother, is dead. You
will return with us."
Orb came out. "You must go," she said. "Your Kingdom needs you."
"Damn my Kingdom!" he sang.
"I will go with you, my love." She had no need of any royal life, only to be with him. She was sure she
could handle it.
"No," the officer said firmly. "The Prince alone must come. He will marry a princess of the Rajah's
choosing."
Orb felt the clutch of horror on her heart. Was she to be separated from him?
"N-n-n-never!" Mym cried.
"We are instructed to pay the woman an adequate sum," the officer said. "She will not be in want. But
she is not to see the Prince again, by order of the Rajah."
"An adequate sum!" Orb exclaimed indignantly. How could any monetary payment make up for the
outrage and anguish of such a parting?
"It is here," the officer said, proffering her a small package. Orb was hardly aware of accepting it; she
was numbed by the awfulness of the situation.
She looked at Mym. He was standing as if dazed, his eyes staring ahead. A trace of blood showed on his
lip.
The officer kneeled before him, proffering the hilt of his sword. "If it pleases you, Prince, strike off my
head first, and any others you wish. We shall not take arms against our Prince. But you will return to the
Kingdom."
Blood at Mym's mouth. The berserkers went wild at the taste of blood...
"Mym!" Orb screamed, understanding. "They are only doing their duty! You must go with them!"
He heard her. He turned his head to the side and spat out the blood. It was evident that he could berserk,
and the officer knew it, but that he had it under control. He took the sword, reversed it, and returned it to
the officer.
Then Mym turned to Orb. "I will return to you," he sang. "Until that time, I give you this." He brought
out a ring that was in the form of a tiny green snake.
"But what is it?" It was as if they were two actors on a stage, and she was watching from an audience;
she could hardly believe that this was happening.
"Wear it, and it will answer any question. One squeeze for yes, two for no, three if neither applies. It will
also protect you." And in his hand the ring came to life, the little snake slithering across from his palm to
hers, rearing up and hissing as if to bite. Then it coiled around one of her fingers and became cold metal
again.
"Until you return," she said, his face blurring as her tears sprang forth.
He embraced her and kissed her deeply. Then he went with the officer. He mounted a fine horse that had
been brought for him, paused to wave to Orb and to the others of the troupe who had befriended him,
and rode away.
Orb gazed after him until no sight of her beloved remained. Then she swooned.
She woke in her wagon, with Pythea tending her. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Orb explained. "I am distraught,
but it's not like me to-"
The snake charmer put out a hand to restrain her. "Orb, it isn't that. I know the signs."
"What?"
"My dear, you are with child."
Orb fainted again.

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