David Drake - Mountain Magic

Mountain Magic

Table of Contents

An Apology

Diamonds Are Forever

Introduction to the

Electronic Publication

ofJohn the Balladeer

O Ugly Bird!

The Desrick on Yandro

Vandy, Vandy

One Other

Call Me From the Valley

The Little Black Train

Shiver in the Pines

Walk Like a Mountain

On the Hills and Everywhere

Old Devlins Was A-Waiting

Nine Yards of Other Cloth

Wonder as I Wander:

Farther Down the Trail

Trill Coster's Burden

The Spring

Owls Hoot in the Daytime

Can These Bones Live?

Nobody Ever Goes There

Where Did She Wander?

Old Nathan

Mountain Magic

David Drake,

Eric Flint,

Ryk E. Spoor &

Manly Wade Wellman

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any

resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Exit the Professor" was first published inThrilling Wonder Stories , October 1947. "Pile of Trouble"

was first published inThrilling Wonder Stories , April 1948. "See You Later" was first published in

Thrilling Wonder Stories , June 1949. "Cold War" was first published inThrilling Wonder Stories ,

1959 by Standard Magazines, renewed 1977 by C.L. Moore.Old Nathan was first published by Baen

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises

P.O. Box 1403

Riverdale, NY 10471

www.baen.com

ISBN: 0-7434-8856-3

Cover art by Gary Ruddell

First paperback printing, October 2004

Distributed by Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Production by Windhaven Press, Auburn, NH

Typeset by Bell Road Press, Sherwood, OR

Printed in the United States of America

To Henry Kuttner (1914–1958) and

C.L. Moore (1911–1987)

BAEN BOOKS by

DAVID DRAKE & ERIC FLINT

Mountain Magic

(with Ryk E. Spoor & Henry Kuttner)

The Belisarius series:

An Oblique Approach

In the Heart of Darkness

Destiny's Shield

Fortune's Stroke

The Tide of Victory

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The General series:

The Tyrant

BAEN BOOKS by RYK E. SPOOR

Digital Knight

For a complete listing of Baen Books

by these authors, please go to our website:

www.baen.com

An Apology

Unfortunately the Kuttner estate does not allow publication of electronic versions of his works. So we

had to remove all of the Kuttner stories from the WebScriptions version. In their place we've added

Manly Wade Wellman'sJohn the Balladeer stories.

Certainly they fit the books theme ofMountain Magic.

DIAMONDS ARE

FOREVER

Eric Flint and Ryk E. Spoor

1. Calling Mamma

"You're getting MARRIED?!"

I had to pull the receiver away from my ear. Father always said if Mamma was in full voice she could

break window glass over in the next county. "Yes, Mamma. I asked Jodi yesterday and she accepted."

"Well, that's WONDERFUL!" Another ear-saving reaction. Her voice shifted toNo Nonsense mode.

"Now you've put this off long enough, Clinton Jefferson Slade. You're bringin' that girl home to meet your

family this very week, you hear? I know you can take that time off if'n you try, in that big fancy job that

you're so important at."

When Mamma uses your whole name, there isn't anything for it but you'd better do as you're told. "Yes,

Mamma. It's just . . . Mamma, she's city."

"Well, now, I know that, boy. What other kind of girl would you be meetin' in New York? We're not

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

completely uneducated out here, you know."

I lowered my voice. "Mamma, I'll come. I'll bring her, okay. But . . . is everything okay there?"

"Well, of COURSE it—" Mamma cut off short, then sighed. "Oh. Yes, Clinton, ain't been none ofthat in

quite a while. Daddy Zeke said you might be tryin' to hidethat from this girl and that was why we hadn't

met her."

"From anyone, Mamma, not just Jodi. Family's never told anyone, and I didn't aim to change that." I was

slightly embarrassed to hear the Kentucky accent getting stronger; it always did when I talked to family.

Not that I was reallyembarrassed about my family, not really, but . . . sometimes they were so weird.

"So everything is okay?"

"Just FINE, dear. Now, we'll be expecting you when?"

I did a quick calculation in my head. "Say, Monday evening? We'll be driving and I'll have to make some

arrangements before we go."

"That will be just fine, Clint dear." I was back to Clint now, so that was good. I hadn't been at all sure

how they'd take me marrying a city girl, even though they really thought I was more than half city myself

now. "We'll do you proud, boy, because we really are all proud of you, first Slade to finish college this

century and all, and you done so well."

I blushed, and I know darn well Mamma could tell, even over the phone. "Aw, Mamma, ain't any big

deal, really. Anyone in the family coulda done it."

"Don't you go selling yourself short, Clint dear. Even Evangeline knows perfectly well you're the genius in

our family, and she's no dummy herself. Take care, and the whole family will be looking for you!"

We exchanged kisses over the phone, silly though that sounds, and I hung up.

"So," Jodi said, coming over, "were those bellows of fury, or was she happy to hear about it?"

"You could hear her?"

"Oy vey, Clint," she said, smiling. "Thought she'd break your eardrums with a couple of those."

Jodi was something of an anachronism. Her grandparents were immigrants who still spoke more Yiddish

than English and had maintained an intimidatingly firm emphasis on the link between the old and new

traditions. Linguistic traditions, anyway, if not religious ones. Jodi's grandfather had been active in the

needle trade unions, a follower of Max Shachtman's brand of socialism. He had no use for religions of

any kind, but that hadn't stopped him from maintaining a number of Jewish habits and customs. Jodi's

family was almost a time capsule of clichés from the '40s and '50s, and Jodi had inherited enough to

sound like a near-parody of the New York "Jewish American Princess." So why did I find her Yiddish,

of all things, endearing? Especially when spoken with that New York accent that reminded me of nails on

a chalkboard?

Probably just the blindness of love, I had to admit. I'd known Jodi Goldman for four years, though, so

hopefully the blindness (or, in this case, deafness) would last for many years yet. "She was ecstatic," I

said, answering her question. "I guess I should have more faith in my family, but they are still, well . . ."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"About as rustic backwoods as you were when you first showed up?"

I laughed. "Worse, sweetheart. I'd gone through college before that, remember. First Slade—"

"—this century, yes, I know, my favenebbish . You mentioned it a time or two, probably because your

whole family mentions it every time you go home, yes?"

"And on the phone. Look, I sorta committed us to go visit. You don't argue with Mamma."

"Yeah, sounds like my mother. When are we supposed to get there, so they can get a good look at what

a horse you're bringing home?"

Jodi's sensitive about her height—she's taller than me by two inches or so, and I'm almost six feet tall.

This doesn't bother me, but when she's nervous she tends to fret about it. As well as her weight, which

for her height is just fine. "Don't you worry about that, Jodi. When they get a look at you, Father'll be

tellin' me how lucky I am, and I'll have to watch so Adam doesn't try to steal you. Next week."

"What? Are you totallymeshuggeh ? What about work?"

"Mamma knows I can take the time off. What about you?"

She made a sort of growling noise in her throat, and then hummed several bars of a Streisand tune—a

sign she was both thinking and calming herself down. "Okay, yeah, I think I can do that. They won't be

thrilled, but if we want to make your Mamma happy, I can live with it. Oy, I have packing to do! Do you

have electricity where you live?"

I managed to keep from laughing. "Yes. We have our own generators, actually. Every month Father or

Adam trucks in to town to buy the fuel. Had to have the phone line run in special; these days I suppose

we'd have done something like get a satellite link, but not back when the family first decided to get one."

Jodi blinked. "Running out a phone line just for you? That's pretty pricey, Clint."

"I said we was backwoods," I drawled, emphasizing my Kentucky accent. "Didn't say we waspoor

backwoods. If the Slades ain't the richest family in Crittenden County, it's only 'cause we've spent a lot of

it the last few decades."

"I never knew, Clint." Jodi looked at me with surprise. "How'd your family get rich?"

I realized my big mouth had me dangerously close to the secret. Time to follow the honorable Slade

tradition of ducking the truth. "One of my ancestors, Winston Slade, made a ton of money mining, and

brought it with him to the homestead when he settled down." That was, as one of my online friends would

put it, "telling the truth like a Jedi"—it was true "from a certain point of view." If I'd done the casual voice

right, though, she'd never suspect a thing. Once we were married, we'd be living near New York and just

visit the family homestead once in a while, so the chances were she'd never have to know.

"Well, that'll be a relief for my more cynical relatives," Jodi said, throwing back her long black hair.

"They were kinda worried about just what your background was, especially with your nickname."

I wasn't very surprised. "I suppose 'Crowbar' Slade does sound either like a real honest-to-god Good

Ole Boy, or like a wannabe wrestler." Truth was, I'd gotten the nickname in college because my

roommates noticed I had a crowbar in my baggage when I moved in, and that I had that particular bag

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

with me most of the time.

"Look," Jodi said, "if we're leaving to get there Monday like I think I heard you say, I gotta get moving.

We just got tomorrow to get ready. And like I didn't already have a busy schedule tomorrow? You

know what sort of planning I have to do for the wedding, and now we have to schlep all the way to

Kentucky." She leaned slightly down and we both shut up for a while for the good-bye kiss, which lasted

for several kisses as usual before she finally got out the door.

I sighed and grinned. Hey, maybe this would be fun.

2. Meet the Slades

"Ow! I see why you have this oversuspended monster now." A larger bump than normal jolted Jodi

against the harness. "And boy am I glad we put the equipment in those transport cases."

"I wouldn't have pulled out of the driveway if you hadn't. You want to keep doing work on our vacation,

I'm at least going to make sure you can't wreck half the lab's equipment getting there. 'Sides, that one

weren't nothing. Right after winter you should see the potholes we get and have to fill in afore—I mean,

be fore—we can really drive the road well." I kicked myself mentally. One night sleeping over in a

southern West Virginia motel on the way and a few stops at regional gas stations and I was already falling

back into dialect. Pretty soon Jodi wouldn't even understand me.

"No bigger than the one on Seventeenth last month," Jodi said dismissingly. I had to remember that New

Yorkers are like Texans: their potholes are worse, their taxicab drivers more dangerous, and their people

tougher than anyone else, damn what the facts might be.

"Construction areas don't count as potholes." I responded. "Holy—!"

I slammed on the brakes just in time to keep from going over into the ravine that now cut squarely

across the packed and oiled rock-dirt roadway leading to the Slade homestead. Last time I'd been here

there hadn't been a sign of such a thing; now it yawned, a raw gash in the earth, fully forty feet from the

edge I sat on to the other side, eight feet deep on the right dropping to ten or twelve on the left as it

passed out of sight into the old-growth forest.

We sat there for a few moments in silence, me waiting for my heart to stop pounding before I slowly

backed the truck a few more feet from the edge, just in case. Jodi turned to me. "So youhad to prove me

wrong. Okay, that is bigger than the one on Seventeenth." She looked at the ravine with slightly wide

eyes, the only sign she was going to let this disturb her New York sangfroid. "So, what, are we supposed

to fill that in with our bare hands?"

"Stay here a minute." I reached down into the bag and grabbed the crowbar.

I walked to the edge, so I could look to the left and right. I could see, down below, the mound of

jumbled dirt, trees, and rocks which marked the slide. The thing that bothered me—really,really

bothered me—was how straight and selective this was. The slide started about fifty feet up the slope, cut

across the road in a perfect right angle, and ended about a hundred feet below. I poked at the dirt with

the crowbar; it crumbled like normal, not too wet, packed hard where the road was. There wasn't any

sign of the usual slumping you get when the earth's moving because it's gotten too soggy and all. The road

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

looked like someone had just cut a piece out of it with a giant knife, like a Bunyan-sized slice of earth pie.

I listened. Not a sound except some water dripping off the trees in the fog—and the fog wasn't common

this time of year, either. Seemed like the air was colder here than ought be. No animal sounds, the critters

were quiet.

Maybe Mamma had been premature. This sure 'nuff looked likethat kind of trouble to me.

Well, no help for it now. I studied the lay of the land. Awfully steep in parts but . . . I could probably

make it around the upper end. Old-growth forest has some advantages, like usually bigger distances

between the trees. I got back into the truck. "Jodi, get out and wait a ways down. I'll try and drive

around."

"If you aren't scared to drive it, I'm not scared to ride it. And it's chilly out there."

"Iam scared to drive it, but I ain't leavin' the truck parked here neither!" I heard my voice head all the

way back home. Shoot, this wasn't good. "Look, Jodi, sweetheart, this kind of driving's really tricky, and

I'll do better if I'm not worrying about you as a passenger while I'm trying to hold her steady on the

slope."

Jodi rolled her eyes, then kissed my cheek and got out. I knew she would if I put it that way; it made

practical sense, sure, but more importantly, it told her I didn't doubt her courage, just my concentration.

There was one really sticky moment when the earth near the top of the gouge started to give, but I gave

her the gas and bounced clear before I could get dragged sideways. With only a couple of minor

scratches to the side panels, I made it to the far side of the road. "YEEAH! Try 'n' stop a Slade that way,

willya?Ha! " I shook the crowbar at the silent woods. "Okay, honey, you can come on over. Walk

around the way I drove."

"Walk? You need sidewalks here, Clint! This isn't walking, this is an obstacle course!" Despite her

complaints, Jodi was making her way through the woods at a respectable clip. She'd done hiking before.

"I—yow!" Her figure seemed to vanish into the earth.

"Jodi!" I shouted in horror. Damnation, I should have madeher take the crowbar! I had the whole car to

protect me!

"Calm down, Clint!" Relief flooded me as I saw her rise back into sight, brushing leaves and dirt off. "I

was just being aschlemiel and looking at you instead of where I was putting my big feet. Honestly, you

worry like my grandmother." She emerged from the forest and got back into the car. "Well, so much for

my perfect grooming."

"Don't worry none about that." I dropped the crowbar back into the bag and put the car in gear. "It's

their fault for not watching for the slide and preventing it." That wasn't true, of course, if it was really what

I suspected, but either way the family wouldn't blame Jodi for not looking her best. And as far as I was

concerned, she'd look as good in jeans and a dirty T-shirt as in a formal gown.

There were no more incidents on the way up. We crested the last hill, came around the much smoother

bend that led to Slade's Hollow, and came down through the woods into the open. "Whoa!" said Jodi

involuntarily.

I couldn't repress a grin. "Yeah, y'all expected a couple log cabins and an outhouse, didn't you? Admit it,

the Slades don't have a half-bad spread."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The Slade House really is something of a mansion, even if it is more spread out than up. Every

generation adds a room or two somewhere, sorta like Lord Valentine's Castle. We try to keep a sort of

style to it, but you can still tell where one generation left off and another started. The main part used for

living these days was a massive mansion whose architecture was natural-looking logs and hewn

stone—sort of a magnified version of what the earlier stuff had been, but if you knew anything about

building you could tell that this thing hadn't been raised up by two farmers and their families; serious

construction work had gone into the three-story, semicircular building.

"The original house is that small squarish part, off-center," I told Jodi, pointing. "That's where Winston

Slade put his house back in 1802. It's used mostly for storage now. The funny addition over there is our

generator shed, and on the other side's storage for tools, stuff like that. Got farm equipment in the barn

there, even though we don't use it all that much—don't have to do much farming, so it's mostly just for the

family."

"It's a mishmash all right, but pretty, you know? And this valley!"

"Yeah, the Hollow's pretty. One reason old Winston chose it was because it was already clear for

building; figured it was a sign and built his house smack in the middle of the Hollow, on this little rise. And

here we are."

I killed the engine and got out, Jodi doing the same on the other side. Our feet barely touched the ground

before the front doors burst open and the Slade clan came running out, Mamma in the lead as usual. She

was wearing her best dress, which was a pretty lace-embroidered blue and white affair that she'd only

had to let out a size or two since she got married to Father and which set off her complexion and dark

brown hair. There still wasn't a trace of gray in that thick hair. Either she just aged well or used dye that

no one caught her at, but no one would have the guts to ask her.

"CLINT! Clinton! Welcome home, boy!" She gave me the usual huge hug and a kiss on the cheek, and

turned to Jodi. "And this must be your Jodi! Welcome t' the Hollow, dear. Come on in, come on in,

you're just in time for dinner!"

Adam clapped me on the back. "Quite a looker!" he murmured in my ear. "What's she see in you,

Clint?"

I stuck my tongue out at him and crossed my eyes the way we used to when we were kids. "Maybe

someday I'll tell you my secret. After I've got her safely tied down with a ring!"

Adam chuckled at that. The girls have always loved Adam. Standing six foot four and built like Conan

the Barbarian, with the best of Mamma's softer rounded features tempering the edges and planes of the

typical Slade face, he practically had to beat the girls off with a stick. I glanced towards my fiancée, to

find that Mamma had taken charge of Jodi—well, as much as anyone can take charge of Jodi—and had

her inside already.

I noticed that the gate had now rolled across the entrance to the Hollow, and heard the faint change in

sound from the generators. Someone—probably Father—had engaged the electric fence.

Father was in the big family room when Adam and I got in, trailing behind everyone else. He gave me

one of his usual nods. "Clint."

"Father." I gave him a hug, which he returned, then clasped hands for a moment.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Been a while."

"Sorry, Father. I try to keep in touch."

He nodded. Not angry. Just quiet, as usual. Father didn't talk much, thought a lot, and acted when he

had to. He was actually a tad shorter than me, but built as solid as the rock of the mountain; Father didn't

have an ounce of fat on him but still outweighed me by about thirty pounds. Still, almost no one paid him

mind when they first met him, on account of his being so quiet.

A booming laugh momentarily silenced everyone else. Grandpa Marlon was Father's opposite—he filled

a room with his voice and his figure, standing taller even than Adam, with snow-white hair hanging to his

shoulders and a rough-hewn face that reminded almost everyone of Charlton Heston. Evangeline, all long

dark hair and pale face, was in the corner curled up on the padded armchair as usual, reading and

watching. I didn't see Nellie or Helen, but that didn't really surprise me. Helen was going to be married

herself soon, so she was probably out, and Nellie was trying to match her stride for stride, so to speak.

Jonah was staring a bit too much at Jodi, but I remembered being fourteen myself, and in her New York

getup Jodi was a pretty stareable sight.

I looked at Father again. "Road was out, Father. Down near Snake Rock."

His lips tightened. "Not the weather for slides."

"My thought, too."

"Fence is up. Don't worry for now." He looked at the dining room and started to head in that direction.

Mamma noticed. "Zeke! Ezekiel Slade! No one at the table yet!" Father stopped immediately; you didn't

trifle with Mamma's directions. "Evangeline, could you be a treasure and help me set the table?" She

noticed Jonah. "And stop standing around like a lump, Jonah Winston Slade! You and Adam go out and

get Clint's truck unpacked and get their things to their rooms."

Jonah shook himself, looked at me enviously, and then nodded. "Yes, Mamma."

Jodi followed them out. "Whoa, boys, there's special equipment in there!"

Mamma seemed to think about protesting that she shouldn't do any work, but thought better of it. This

was the opening I'd been hoping for. I went with Mamma into the kitchen to help her with the food—as

usual, there was enough to feed an army. "Mamma . . ." I said, letting a warning tone creep into my voice.

She blinked up at me. "Something wrong, Clint dear?"

"The road was out. And it wasn't no landslide, neither."

She busied herself with the roast.

"You told me there wasn't any of that going on."

"Well, dear . . ." she said, in the voice she used when she was trying to get around Father, " . . . there

wasn't any of that when I told youthen . Just seems to have started in the last couple of days."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"I know that voice, Mamma! Don't try no dancin' around this one! Just what—"

"Clinton! Don't take that tone of voice with me! I can still tan your hide, boy, and I won't need no help to

do it, neither!"

I backed down; getting Mamma mad wouldn't help. "Sorry, Mamma. Did anything happen that might

have . . . started it again?"

"Clint, we've got your wedding and Helen's, and ain't going to be no surprise if Nellie's and even Adam's

come pretty quick. And of course we're going to do you proud, son."

For a minute I was completely befuddled. What the heck did all that have to do with . . . "Oh, for the

love of—Mamma Bea, youdidn't !"

"I just sent Adam down for a little extra."

I couldn't believe this. "Mamma, you can't possibly be telling me we were broke again?"

She was slicing the roast in perfectly even slices—something I never did learn how to do, even though I

was in some ways a better cook than Mamma. "Broke? Clint, darling, of course not. But ain't nothing

wrong with thinkin' ahead, is there? Takes a powerful lot of money to keep the Slades running, and what

with building Helen her new house—"

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I could see where this was going. The Slades had always

been rich, but never learned to keep it. Spend it like water, that was the Slade way. Why learn about

investment and things like that? Need more money, just go get some. I suppose I should have expected

something on those lines—the last time the family refilled the vault was, as Mamma said, when Grandpa

Marlon took his last trip, and besides all the living expenses there'd been additions and enhancements to

the house, all the gadgets that the Slade clan loved—Mamma couldn't get enough of the home theater

and DVDs (she had just about the completeDark Shadows collection, an expense big enough to show

up in the budget of any third-world country), and even Father seemed to enjoy his own time with a

computer almost as much as he liked doing his woodworking—and of course putting the first Slade in a

century or more through a real expensive college with no scholarship.

" . . . so you see, Clint dear, weren't much choice. And no point putting things off, so I sent Adam off."

"You knew I was worried about this happening! Couldn't you have waited a week or so, until after me

and Jodi left?"

"Clint. Enough, now."

I hadn't heard Father enter. "Yes, Father."

Father took up one platter, I took up another and followed him out. "Your Mamma is who she is.

Works hard to be a Slade even though she weren't born one. Sometimes that's not all to the good. 'Taint

no point worryin'. Trouble usually doesn't come here, even bad times. Scared of the Hollow. Keep her

busy here, shouldn't see anything. Right, son?"

I smiled reluctantly. Father always reminded me of Unc Nunkie from the Oz books; this was a long and

involved conversation for him. "Right, Father."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

David Drake - Mountain Magic

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: