It had become obvious to Toller Maraquine and some others
watching on the ground that the airship was heading into danger,
butincrediblyits captain appeared not to notice.
Prince Leddravohr Neldeever was indulging himself in the one
pursuit which could make him feel young again.
Lain Maraquines domicileknown as the Square Housewas
positioned on Greenmount, a rounded hill in a northern suburb
of Ro-Atabri, the Kolcorronian capital.
Toller Maraquine awoke with the knowledge, which was both
disturbing and comforting, that he was not alone in bed.
The official residence of King Prad Neldeever was notable more
for its size than architectural merit. Successive generations of
rulers had added wings, towers and cupolas to suit their individual
whims, usually in the style of the day, with the result that the
building had some resemblance to a coral or one of the accretive
structures erected by certain kinds of insects. An early landscape
gardener had attempted to impose a degree of order by planting
stands of synchronous parble and rafter trees, but over the
centuries they had been infiltrated by other varieties. The
palace, itself variegated because of different masonry, was now
screened by vegetation equally uneven in colour, and from a
distance it could be difficult for the eye to separate one from the
other.
General Risdel Dalacott awoke at first light and, following the
routine which had rarely varied in his sixty-eight years of life, left
his bed immediately.
While he was waiting for the airship to be untethered, Dalacott
slipped his hand into a pocket and located the curious nameless
object he had found decades earlier on the banks of the Bes-Undar.
His thumb worked in a circular pattern over the nuggets
reflective surface, polished smooth by many years of similar
frictions, as he tried to come to terms with the enormity of what
had happened in the past nine days. The bare statistics conveyed
little of the anguish which was withering his spirit.
The Weapons Research Station was in the south-western
outskirts of Ro-Atabri, in the old manufacturing district of
Mardavan Quays. The area was low-lying, drained by a hesitant
and polluted watercourse which discharged into the Borann
below the city. Centuries of industrial usage had rendered the
soil of Mardavan Quays sterile in some places, while in others
there were great stands of wrongly-coloured vegetation
nourished by unknown seepings and secretions, products of
ancient cesspools and spoilheaps. Factories and storage buildings
were copiously scattered on the landscape, linked by deep-rutted
tracks, and half-hidden among them were groups of
shabby dwellings from whose windows light rarely shone.
Fera Rivoo had adapted well to her new style of life in
Greenmount Peel, but no amount of coaxing on Tollers part had
ever persuaded her to sit astride a bluehorn or even one of the
smaller whitehorns which were often favoured by women.
Consequently, when Toller wanted to get away from the Peel
with his wife for fresh air or simply a change of surroundings he
was forced to go on foot. Walking was a form of exercise and
travel for which he cared little because it was too tame and
dictated too leisurely a pace of events, but Fera regarded it as the
only way of getting about the city districts when no carriage was
available to her.
A rare band of rain had swept over the region during the
night and now, in the first quiet minutes after sunrise, Toller
Maraquine found himself looking down from Greenmount on an
unfamiliar world. Patches and streamers of ground-hugging mist
garlanded the vistas below, in places obscuring Ro-Atabri more
effectively than the blanket of ptertha screens which had been
thrown over the city since the first attack, almost two years
earlier. The triangular outline of Mount Opelmer rose out of an
aureate haze to the east, its upper slopes tinted by the reddish
sun which had just climbed into view.
Im not at all sure that Im doing the right thing, Lord Glo said
as Toller Maraquine finished strapping him into his walking
frame. I think it would be much more prudentnot to mention
being more fair to youif I were to take one of the servants to
the Great Palace with me and . . . hmm . . . leave you here.
There is enough work to be done around the place, work which
would keep you out of trouble.
The drive to the Great Palace took place in silence, with Glo
nodding ruminatively to himself now and then as he rehearsed
his intended address.
. . .as though the ptertha were encouraged by the events of the
past two years, in the manner of a warrior who sees that his foe is
weakening, the King was saying. Their numbers are increasingand
who is to say that their foul emissions will not become
even more deadly? It has happened once, and it can happen
again.
Leddravohr was mentally tired after the meeting and had been
hoping to relax during dinner, but his fatherwith the abundant
cerebral energy which characterises some elderly mentalked
all the way through the meal. He switched rapidly and effortlessly
from military strategy to food rationing schemes to the
technicalities of interworld flight, displaying his fascination with
detail, trying to explore mutually incompatible probabilities.
Leddravohr, who had no taste for juggling with abstracts, was
relieved when the meal was finished and his father moved out to
the balcony for a final cup of wine before retiring to his private
quarters.
Its getting late, Toller said. Perhaps Leddravohr isnt
coming.
The decision to attack Chamteth from the west was taken for
geographical reasons.
General Risdel Dalacott uncorked the tiny poison bottle and
smelled its contents.
DAY 84. Prince Leddravohr was in a strange mood at the staff
conference today. I sensed that he was keyed-up and elated, in
spite of the news of heavy losses on the southern front. Time and
time again he made reference to the fact thatptertha appear to be
so few in this part of Land. He is not given to confiding his
innermost thoughts, but by piecing together fragmentary and
oblique remarks I received the impression that he entertained
visions of persuading the King to abandon the whole idea of
migrating to Overland.
DAY 93. The war is going badly. These people are determined,
brave and gifted fighters. I cannot bring myself to contemplate the
possibility of our eventual defeat, but the truth is that we would
have been severely tested in going against Chamteth even in the
days when we could have fielded close on a million fully trained
men. Today we have only a third of that number, an uncomfortably
high proportion of them raw conscripts, and we are going to
need luck in addition to all our skill and courage if the war is to be
successfully prosecuted.
Dalacott paused in his reading and picked up the enamelled
cup of wine. He stared into its beaded depths for a moment,
resisting the urge to drink deeply, then took a controlled sip. So
many people seemed to be calling to him from the far side of that
barrier which separated the living from the deadhis wife
Toriane, Aytha Maraquine, his son Oderan, Conna Dalacott
and little Hallie. . . .
DAY 102. How does one account for the machinations of fate?
DAY 103. A company of the 8th Battalion was completely
overrun in a surprise attack today in sector C11. Only a handful of
men escaped the slaughter and many of those were so severely
wounded that there was no option for them but the Bright Road.
Disasters like that are becoming almost commonplace, so much
so that I find myself more preoccupied with the reports which
arrived this morning suggesting that our respite from the ptertha
will soon come to an end.
DAY 106. Leddravohrs dream of a Kolcorron free from the
scourge of the ptertha has come to an abrupt end. The globes
have been sighted by fleet auxiliaries of the First Army. They are
approaching the south coast in the Adrian region.
DAY 107. Todayalthough I take little pride or pleasure in the
accomplishmentI justified Prince Leddravohrs confidence in
my abilities as a tactician.
DAY 109. It transpires that I was quite wrong about a new and
intensified threat from the ptertha.
Dalacott broke off from his reading and glanced at the timepiece
strapped to his wrist. It was of the type based on a
toughened glass tube, preferred by the military in the absence of
a compact and reliable chronometer. The pace beetle inside it
was nearing the eighth division of the graduated cane shoot. The
time of his final appointment was almost at hand.
DAY 114. The war is over.
The night sky, although it had much less overall brightness than
in Kolcorron, was spanned by a huge spiral of misty light, the
arms of which sparkled with brilliant stars of white, blue and
yellow. That wheel was flanked by two large elliptical spirals,
and the rest of the celestial canopy was generously dappled with
small whirlpools, wisps and patches of radiance, plus the glowing
plumes of a number of comets. Although the Tree was not
visible, the sky was overlaid with a field of major stars whose
intensity made them seem closer than all the other heavenly
objects, imparting a sense of depth to the display.
Night, as always, was the time of the ptertha.
But today of all days! Colonel Kartkang said forcibly. I
suppose you realise your take-off is scheduled for the tenth
hour?
We, have sunwriter reports from as far away as fifty miles
upwind, said Vato Armduran, the S.E.S. chief engineer. The
look-outs say there is very little ptertha activityso you should
be all right on that scorebut the wind speed is rather higher
than I would have wished.
Toller awoke shortly after dawn to the sound of an animated
discussion taking place at the centre of the gondola. He raised
himself to a kneeling position on the sandbags and rubbed his
arms, uncertain as to whether the coolness he could feel was
external or an aftermath of sleep. The intermittent roar of the
burner had been so intrusive that he had achieved only light
dozes, and now he felt little more refreshed than if he had been
on duty all night. He walked on his knees to the opening in the
passenger compartments partition and looked out at the rest of
the crew.
By nightfall the weight on the height gauge had risen to near the
halfway mark on the scale, and the effects of reduced gravity
were apparent, no longer a matter for argument.
By morning the height gauge was showing an altitude of fourteen-hundred
miles, and its supplementary scale indicated that
gravity was now less than a quarter of normal.
Shortly before littlenight on the fifth day of the flight the gauge
registered a height of 2,600 miles and a gravity value of zero.
The cave was in the side of a ragged hill, in an area of broken
terrain where numerous gullies, rocky projections and a
profusion of spiky scrub made the going difficult for man or beast.
Prince Leddravohr picked up a looking glass and frowned at his
reflection. Even when resident in the Great Palace he preferred
not to be attended by body servants, and for his morning toilet he
had spent a considerable time in honing a brakka razor to a
perfect edge and softening his facial stubble with hot water. As a
result, annoyingly, he had pared away too much skin at his
throat. There were no real incisions, but droplets of blood were
oozing through the skin, and no matter how often he dabbed
them away more appeared in their place.
Toller stared at the yellow-hooded body without moving for
perhaps ten minutes, trying to understand how he was to deal
with the pain of loss.
Toller lowered the telescope. Somewhere under the thundering
turmoil of his grief was the realisation that Lains message
had a significance which reached far beyond the present circumstances,
but for the present he was unable to relate to it.
Instead he was overwhelmed by a baffled disappointment. Why
had Lain not used the dregs of his mental and physical energy to
accuse his murderer and thus pave a straight path for retribution?
After a moments thought the answer came to Toller, and
he almost managed to smile with affection and respect. Lain,
even in death, had been the true pacifist, far removed from
thoughts of revenge. He had withdrawn his personal light from
the world in a manner befitting his way of lifeand Leddravohr
still endured. . . .
When daylight returned the four ships of the royal flight had
attained a height of some twenty milesand were accompanied
by a loose cluster of ptertha.
By the tenth day of the flight the ship was only a thousand miles
above the surface of Overland, and the ancient patterns of night
and day had been reversed.
Of the seven people confined to the punishing microcosm of
the gondola, Daseene was the only one who had made no
concessions to their situation. She had not spoken to Toller or
Gesalla, still wore her pearl coif, and ventured out of the
passenger compartment only when it was absolutely necessary.
She had gone without food or drink for three whole days rather
than submit to the ordeal of using the primitive toilet when near
the midpoint of the voyage. Her features had become pale and
pinched, andalthough the ship had since descended to warmer
levels of Overlands atmosphereshe remained huddled in the
quilted garments which had been hastily manufactured for the
migration flight. She answered in monosyllables when spoken to
by her family.
Comforted by the drowsing presence of Setwan on his knee,
Toller was operating the burner like an automaton, unconsciously
timing the blasts with his heartbeats, when daylight
abruptly returned. He blinked several times and saw at once that
something was wrong, that only two ships of the royal flight were
holding level with him, instead of three.
That night, while Toller was vainly trying to sleep, Gesalla came
to his side, and in the loneliness of the hour it seemed perfectly
natural for him to put his arm around her. She rested her head on
his shoulder and brought her mouth close to his ear.
Overlands equatorial continent, seen from a height of two
miles, looked essentially prehistoric.
The rear wall of the cave was partially hidden by a mound of
large pebbles and rock fragments which over the centuries had
washed down through a natural chimney. Toller enjoyed gazing
at the mound because he knew the Overlanders lived inside
it.
Well, I dont think youre strong enough to travel, Gesalla
said firmly, so there is no point in carrying on with this
discussion.
The soldier standing over him was holding a sword.
Later, when silence had again returned to the hillside, Toller
awoke to see that Gesalla was passing the time by sorting and
arranging her collection of leaves and flowers. She had spread
them on the ground before her, and her lips were moving silently
as she thoughtfully placed each specimen in an order of her own
devising. Beyond her the vivid purity of Overland sparkled and
advanced on the eye.
What does the fool think hes doing? Toller said, speaking
aloud although there was nobody within earshot. He shaded his
eyes from the sun to harden his perception of what was happening.
The background was a familiar one to anybody who lived in
those longitudes of Landflawless indigo sea, a sky of pale blue
feathered with white, and the misty vastness of the sister world,
Overland, hanging motionless near the zenith, its disk crossed
again and again by swathes of cloud. In spite of the foreday glare
a number of stars were visible, including the nine brightest which
made up the constellation of the Tree.
Against that backdrop the airship was drifting in on a light sea
breeze, the commander conserving power crystals. The vessel
was heading directly towards the shore, its blue-and-grey
envelope foreshortened to a circle, a tiny visual echo of Overland.
It was making steady progress, but what its captain had
apparently failed to appreciate was that the onshore breeze in
which he was travelling was very shallow, with a depth of not
more than three-hundred feet. Above it and moving in the
opposite direction was a westerly wind streaming down from the
Haffanger Plateau.
Toller could trace the flow and counterflow of air with precision
because the columns of vapour from the pikon reduction
pans along the shore were drifting inland only a short distance
before rising and being wafted back out to sea. Among those
man-made bands of mist were ribbons of cloud from the roof of
the plateautherein lay the danger to the airship.
Toller took from his pocket the stubby telescope he had
carried since childhood and used it to scan the cloud layers. As
he had half expected, he was able within seconds to pick out
several blurry specks of blue and magenta suspended in the
matrix of white vapour. A casual observer might have failed to
notice them at all, or have dismissed the vague motes as an
optical effect, but Tollers sense of alarm grew more intense. The
fact that he had been able to spot some ptertha so quickly meant
that the entire cloud must be heavily seeded with them, invisibly
bearing hundreds of the creatures towards the airship.
Use a sunwriter, he bellowed with the full power of his
lungs. Tell the fool to veer off, or go up or down, or . . . .
Rendered incoherent by urgency, Toller looked all about him
as he tried to decide on a course of action. The only people
visible among the rectangular pans and fuel bins were semi-naked
stokers and rakers. It appeared that all of the overseers
and clerks were inside the wide-eaved buildings of the station
proper, escaping the days increasing heat. The low structures
were of traditional Kolcorronian designorange and yellow
brick laid in complex diamond patterns, dressed with red sand-stone
at all corners and edgesand had something of the look of
snakes drowsing in the intense sunlight. Toller could not even
see any officials at the narrow vertical windows. Pressing a hand
to his sword to hold it steady, he ran towards the supervisors
building.
Toller was unusually tall and muscular for a member of one of
the philosophy orders, and workers tending the pikon pans
hastily moved aside to avoid impeding his progress. Just as
he was reaching the single-storey building a junior recorder,
Comdac Gurra, emerged from it carrying a sunwriter. On seeing
Toller bearing down on him, Gurra flinched and made as if to
hand the instrument over. Toller waved it away.
You do it, he said impatiently, covering up the fact that he
would have been too slow at stringing the words of a message
together. Youve got the thing in your handswhat are you
waiting for?
Im sorry, Toller. Gurra aimed the sunwriter at the
approaching airship and the glass slats inside it clacked as he
began to operate the trigger.
Toller hopped from one foot to the other as he watched for
some evidence that the pilot was receiving and heeding the
beamed warning. The ship drifted onwards, blind and serene.
Toller raised his telescope and concentrated his gaze on the
blue-painted gondola, noting with some surprise that it bore the
plume-and-sword symbol which proclaimed the vessel to be a
royal messenger. What possible reason could the King have for
communicating with one of the Lord Philosophers most remote
experimental stations?
After what seemed an age, his enhanced vision enabled him to
discern hurried movements behind the ships foredeck rails. A
few seconds later there were puffs of grey smoke along.the
gondolas left side, indicating that its lateral drive tubes were
being fired. The airships envelope rippled and the whole
assemblage tilted as the craft slewed to the right. It was rapidly
shedding height during the manoeuvre, but by then it was
actually grazing the cloud, being lost to view now and again as it
was engulfed by vaporous tendrils. A wail of terror, fine-drawn
by distance and flowing air, reached the hushed watchers along
the shore, causing some of the men to shift uneasily.
Toller guessed that somebody on board the airship had encountered
a ptertha and he felt a thrill of dread. It was a fate
which had overtaken him many times in bad dreams. The
essence of the nightmare was not in visions of dying, but in the
sense of utter hopelessness, the futility of trying to resist once a
ptertha had come within its killing radius. Faced by assassins or
ferocious animals, a man couldno matter how overwhelming
the oddsgo down fighting and in that way aspire to a strange
reconciliation with death, but when the livid globes came
questing and quivering, there was nothing that could be done.
Whats going on here? The speaker was Vorndal Sisstt,
chief of the station, who had appeared in the main entrance of
the supervisors building. He was middle-aged, with a round
balding head and the severely upright posture of a man who was
self conscious about being below average in height. His neat
sun-tanned features bore an expression of mingled annoyance
and apprehension.
Toller pointed at the descending airship. Some idiot has
travelled all this distance to commit suicide.
Have we sent a warning?
Yes, but I think it was too late, Toller said. There were
ptertha all round the ship a minute ago.
This is terrible, Sisstt quavered, pressing the back of a hand
to his forehead. Ill give word for the screens to be hoisted.
Theres no needthe cloud base isnt getting any lower
and the globes wont come at us across open ground in broad
daylight.
Im not going to take the risk. Who knows what the . . . ?
Sisstt broke off and glared up at Toller, grateful for a safe outlet
for his emotions. Exactly when did you become empowered
to make executive decisions here? In what I believe to be
my station? Has Lord Glo elevated you without informing
me?
Nobody needs elevation where youre concerned, Toller
said, reacting badly to the chiefs sarcasm, his gaze fixed on the
airship which was now dipping towards the shore.
Sisstts jaw sagged and his eyes narrowed as he tried to decide
whether the comment had referred to his physical stature or
abilities. That was insolence, he accused. Insolence and
insubordination, and Im going to see that certain people get to
hear about it.
Dont bleat, Toller said, turning away.
He ran down the shallow slope of the beach to where a group
of workers had gathered to assist in the landing. The ships
multiple anchors trailed through the surf and up on to the sand,
raking dark lines in the white surface. Men grabbed at the ropes
and added their weight to counter the crafts skittish attempts to
rise on vagrant breezes. Toller could see the captain leaning over
the forward rail of the gondola, directing operations. There
appeared to be some kind of commotion going on amidships,
with several crewmen struggling among themselves. It was possible
that somebody who had been unlucky enough to get too
close to a ptertha had gone berserk, as occasionally happened,
and was being forcibly subdued by his shipmates.
Toller went forward, caught a dripping rope and kept tension
on it to help guide the airship to the tethering stakes which lined
the shore. At last the gondolas keel crunched into the sand and
yellow-shirted men vaulted over the side to secure it. The brush
with danger had evidently rattled them. They were swearing
fiercely as they pushed the pikon workers aside, using
unnecessary force, and began tying the ship down. Toller could
appreciate their feelings, and he smiled sympathetically as he
offered his line to an approaching airman, a bottle-shouldered
man with silt-coloured skin.
What are you grinning at, dung-eater? the man growled,
reaching for the rope.
Toller withdrew the rope and in the same movement threw it
into a loop and snapped it tight around the airmans thumb.
Apologise for that!
What the . . . ! The airman made as if to hurl Toller aside
with his free arm and his eyes widened as he made the discovery
that he was not dealing with a typical science technician. He
turned his head to summon help from other airmen, but Toller
diverted him by jerking the rope tighter.
This is between you and me, Toller said quietly, using the
power of his upper arms to increase the strain on the line. Are
you going to apologise, or would you like your thumb to wear
on a necklet?
Youre going to be sorry for. . . .The airmans voice faded
and he sagged, white-faced and gasping, as a joint in his thumb
made a clearly audible popping sound. I apologise. Let me go! I
apologise.
Thats better, Toller said, releasing the rope. Now we can
all be friends together.
He smiled in mock geniality, giving no hint of the dismay he
could feel gathering inside him. It had happened yet again! The
sensible response to a ritual insult was to ignore it or reply in
kind, but his temper had taken control of his body on the instant,
reducing him to the level of a primitive creature governed by
reflex. He had made no conscious decision to clash with the
airman, and yet would have been prepared to maim him had the
apology not been forthcoming. And what made matters worse
was the knowledge that he was unable to back down, that
the trivial incident might still escalate into something very
dangerous for all concerned.
Friends, the airman breathed, clutching his injured hand to
his stomach, his face contorted with pain and hatred. As soon
as I can hold a sword again Ill . . . .
He left the threat unfinished as a bearded man in the heavily
embroidered jupon of an aircaptain strode towards him. The
captain, who was about forty, was breathing noisily and the
saffron material of his jupon had damp brown stains below his
armpits.
Whats the matter with you, Kaprin? he said, staring angrily
at the airman.
Kaprins eyes gave one baleful flicker in Tollers direction,
then he lowered his head. I snared my hand in a line, sir.
Dislocated my thumb, sir.
Work twice as hard with the other hand, the captain said,
dismissing the airman with a wave and turning to face Toller.
Im Aircaptain Hlawnvert. Youre not Sisstt. Where is Sisstt?
There. Toller pointed at the station chief, who was uncertainly
advancing down the slope of the shore, the hem of his grey
robe gathered clear of the rock pools.
So thats the maniac whos responsible.
Responsible for what? Toller said, frowning.
For blinding me with smoke from those accursed stewpots.
Hlawnverts voice was charged with anger and contempt as he
swung his gaze to encompass the array of pikon pans and the
columns of vapour they were releasing into the sky. Ive been
told theyre actually trying to make power crystals here. Is that
true, or is it just a joke?
Toller, barely clear of one potentially disastrous scrape, was
nonetheless affronted by Hlawnverts tone. It was the principal
regret of his life that he had been born into a philosophy family
instead of the military caste, and he spent much of his time
reviling his lot, but he disliked outsiders doing the same. He
eyed the captain coolly for a few seconds, extending the pause
until it was just short of open disrespect, then spoke as though
addressing a child.
Nobody can make crystals, he said. They can only be
grownif the solution is pure enough.
Then whats the point of all this?
There are good pikon deposits in this area. We are extracting
it from the soil and trying to find a way to refine it until its pure
enough to produce a reaction.
A waste of time, Hlawnvert said with casual assurance,
dismissing the subject as he turned away to confront Vorndal
Sisstt.
Good foreday, Captain, Sisstt said. Im so glad you have
landed safely. Ive given orders for our ptertha screens to be run
out immediately.
Hlawnvert shook his head. Theres no need for them.
Besides, you have already done the damage.
I . . . . Sisstts blue eyes shuttled anxiously. I dont
understand you, Captain.
The stinking fumes and fog youre spewing into the sky
disguised the natural cloud. There are going to be deaths among
my crewand I deem you to be personally responsible.
But . . . . Sisstt glanced in indignation at the receding line of
cliffs from which, for a distance of many miles, streamer after
streamer of cloud could be seen snaking out towards the sea.
But that kind of cloud is a general feature of this coast. I fail to
see how you can blame me for . . . .
Silence! Hlawnvert dropped one hand to his sword, stepped
forward and drove the flat of his other hand against Sisstts chest,
sending the station chief sprawling on his back, legs wide apart.
Are you questioning my competence? Are you saying I was
careless?
Of course not. Sisstt scrambled to his feet and brushed sand
from his robes. Forgive me, Captain. Now that you bring the
matter to my attention, I can see that the vapour from our pans
could be a hazard to airmen in certain circumstances.
You should set up warning beacons.
Ill see that its done at once, Sisstt said. We should have
thought of it ourselves long ago.
Toller could feel a tingling warmth in his face as he viewed the
scene. Captain Hlawnvert was a big man, as was normal for one
of a military background, but he was also soft and burdened with
fat, and even someone of Sisstts size could have vanquished him
with the aid of speed and hate-hardened muscles. In addition,
Hlawnvert had been criminally incompetent in his handling of
the airship, a fact he was trying to obscure with his bluster, so
going against him could have been justified before a tribunal.
But none of that mattered to Sisstt. In keeping with his own
nature the station chief was fawning over the hand which abused
him. Later he would excuse his cowardice with jokes and try to
compensate for it by mistreating his most junior subordinates.
In spite of his curiosity about the reason for Hlawnverts visit,
Toller felt obliged to move away, to dissociate himself from
Sisstts abject behaviour. He was on the point of leaving when a
crop-haired airman wearing the white insignia of a lieutenant
brushed by him and saluted Hlawnvert.
The crew are ready for your inspection, sir, he said in a
businesslike voice.
Hlawnvert nodded and glanced at the line of yellow-shirted
men who were waiting by the ship. How many took the dust?
Only two, sir. We were lucky.
Lucky?
What I mean, sir, is that but for your superb airmanship our
losses would have been much higher.
HlawnVert nodded again. Which two are we losing?
Pouksale and Lague, sir, the lieutenant said. But Lague
wont admit it.
Was the contact confirmed?
I saw it myself, sir. The ptertha got within a single pace of him
before it burst. He took the dust.
Then why cant he own up to it like a man? Hlawnvert said
irritably. A single wheyface like that can unsettle a whole
crew. He scowled in the direction of the waiting men, then
turned to Sisstt. I have a message for you from Lord Glo, but
there are certain formalities I must attend to first. You will wait
here.
The colour drained from Sisstts face. Captain, it would
be better if I received you in my chambers. Besides, I have
urgent . . . .
You will wait here, Hlawnvert interrupted, stabbing Sisstts
chest with one finger and doing it with such force that he caused
the smaller man to stagger. It will do you good to see what
mischief your polluting of the skies has brought about.
In spite of his contempt for Sisstts behaviour, Toller began to
wish he could intervene in some way to end the little mans
humiliation, but there was a strict protocol governing such
matters in Kolcorronian society. To take a mans side in a
confrontation without being invited was to add fresh insult by
implying that he was a coward. Going as far as was permissible,
Toller stood squarely in Hlawnverts way when the captain
turned to walk to the ship, but the implicit challenge went
unnoticed. Hlawnvert side-stepped him, his face turned towards
the sky, where the sun was drawing close to Overland.
Lets get this business over and done with before littlenight,
Hlawnvert said to his lieutenant. We have wasted too much
time here already.
Yes, sir. The lieutenant marched ahead of him to the men
who were ranked in the lee of the restlessly stirring airship and
raised his voice. Stand forward all airmen who have reason to
believe they will soon be unable to discharge their duties.
After a moments hesitation a dark-haired young man took
two paces forward. His triangular face was so pale as to be almost
luminous, but his posture was erect and he appeared to be well in
control of himself. Captain Hlawnvert approached him and
placed a hand on each shoulder.
Airman Pouksale, he said quietly, you have taken the
dust?
I have, sir. Pouksales voice was lifeless, resigned.
You have served your country bravely and well, and your
name will go before the King. Now, do you wish to take the
Bright Road or the Dull Road?
The Bright Road, sir.
Good man. Your pay will be made up to the end of the
voyage and will be sent to your next-of-kin. You may retire.
Thank you, sir.
Pouksale saluted and walked around the prow of the airships
gondola to its far side. He was thus screened from the view of
his former crewmates, in accordance with custom, but the
executioner who moved to meet him became visible to Toller,
Sisstt and many of the pikon workers ranged along the shore.
The executioners sword was wide and heavy, and its brakka
wood blade was pure black, unrelieved by the enamel inlays with
which Kolcorronian weapons were normally decorated.
Pouksale knelt submissively. His knees had barely touched
the sand before the executioner, acting with merciful swiftness,
had dispatched him along the Bright Road. The scene before
Tollerall yellows and ochres and hazy shades of bluenow
had a focal point of vivid red.
At the sound of the death blow a ripple of unease passed
through the line of airmen. Several of them raised their eyes to
gaze at Overland and the silent movement of their lips showed
they were bidding their dead crewmates soul a safe journey to
the sister planet. For the most part, however, the men stared
unhappily at the ground. They had been recruited from the
crowded cities of the empire, where there was considerable
scepticism about the Churchs teaching that mens souls were
immortal and alternated endlessly between Land and Overland.
For them death meant deathnot a pleasant stroll along the
mystical High Path linking the two worlds. Toller heard a faint
choking sound to his left and turned to see that Sisstt was
covering his mouth with both hands. The station chief was
trembling and looked as though he could faint at any second.
If you go down well be branded as old women, Toller
whispered fiercely. Whats the matter with you?
The barbarism. Sisstts words were indistinct. The terrible
barbarism . . . What hope is there for us?
The airman had a free choiceand he behaved well.
Youre no better than . . . . Sisstt stopped speaking as a
commotion broke out by the airship. Two airmen had gripped a
third by the arms and in spite of his struggles were holding him in
front of Hlawnvert. The captive was tall and spindly, with an
incongruously round belly.
. . . couldnt have seen me, sir, he was shouting. And I was
upwind of the ptertha, so the dust couldnt have come anywhere
near me. I swear to you, sirI havent taken the dust.
Hlawnvert placed his hands on his broad hips and looked up at
the sky for a moment, signifying his disbelief, before he spoke.
Airman Lague, the regulations require me to accept your
statement. But let me make your position clear. You wont be
offered the Bright Road again. At the very first signs of fever or
paralysis you will go over the side. Alive. Your pay for the entire
voyage will be withheld and your name will be struck from the
royal record. Do you understand these terms?
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Lague tried to fall at Hlawnverts
feet, but the men at his side tugged him upright. There is
nothing to worry about, sirI havent taken the dust.
At an order from the lieutenant the two men released Lague
and he walked slowly back to rejoin the rank. The line of airmen
parted to make room for him, leaving a larger gap than was
necessary, creating an intangible barrier. Toller guessed that
Lague would find little consolation during the next two days,
which was the time it took for the first effects of ptertha poison to
become apparent.
Captain Hlawnvert saluted his lieutenant, turning the assembly
over to him, and walked back up the slope to Sisstt and
Toller. Patches of high colour showed above the curls of his
beard and the sweat stains upon his jupon had grown larger. He
looked up at the high dome of the sky, where the eastern rim of
Overland had begun to brighten as the sun moved behind it, and
made an impatient gesture as though commanding the sun to
disappear more quickly.
Its too hot for this kind of vexation, he growled. I have a
long way to go, and the crew are going to be useless until that
coward Lague goes over the side. The service regulations will
have to be changed if these new rumours arent quashed soon.
Ah. . . . Sisstt strained upright, fighting to regain his
composure. New rumours, Captain?
Theres a story that some line soldiers down in Sorka died
after handling ptertha casualties.
But pterthacosis isnt transmissible.
I know that, Hlawnvert said. Only a spineless cretin would
think twice about it, but thats what we get for aircrew these
days. Pouksale was one of my few steady menand Ive lost him
to that damned fog of yours.
Toller, who had been watching a burial detail gather up
Pouksales remains, felt a fresh annoyance at the repetition of
the indictment and his chiefs complaisance. You dont have to
keep on blaming our fog, Captain, he said, giving Sisstt a
significant glance. Nobody in authority is disputing the
facts.
Hlawnvert rounded on him at once. What do you mean by
that?
Toller produced a slow, amiable smile. I mean we all got a
clear view of what happened.
Whats your name, soldier?
Toller Maraquineand Im not a soldier.
Youre not a . . . . Hlawnverts look of anger gave way to
one of sly amusement. Whats this? What have we here?
Toller remained impassive as the captains gaze took in the
anomalous aspects of his appearancethe long hair and grey
robes of a philosopher combined with the height and blocky
musculature of a warrior. His wearing of a sword also set him
apart from the rest of his kin. Only the fact that he was free of
scars and campaign tattoos distinguished him in physique from a
full-blooded member of the military.
He studied Hlawnvert in return, and his antagonism increased
as he followed the thought processes so clearly mirrored on the
captains florid face. Hlawnvert had not been able to disguise his
alarm over a possible accusation of negligence, and now he was
relieved to find that he was quite secure. A few coarse innuendoes
about his challengers pedigree were all the defence he
needed in the lineage-conscious hierarchy of Kolcorron. His lips
twitched as he tried to choose from the wealth of taunts available
to him.
Go ahead, Toller thought, projecting the silent message with all the
force of his being. Say the words which will end your life.
Hlawnvert hesitated, as though sensing the danger, and again
the interplay of his thoughts was clearly visible. He wanted to
humiliate and discredit the upstart of dubious ancestry who had
dared impugn him, but not if there was serious risk involved.
And calling for assistance would be a step towards turning a
triviality into a major incident, one which would highlight the
very issue he wanted to obscure. At length, having decided on
his tactics, he forced a chuckle.
If youre not a soldier you should be careful about wearing
that sword, he said jovially. You might sit on it and do yourself
a mischief.
Toller refused to make things easy for the captain. The
weapon is no threat to me.
Ill remember your name, Maraquine, Hlawnvert said in a
low voice. At that moment the stations timekeeper sounded the
littlenight horntonguing the double note which was used when
ptertha activity was highand there was a general movement of
pikon workers towards the safety of the buildings. Hlawnvert
turned away from Toller, clapped one arm around Sisstts
shoulders and drew him in direction of the tethered airship.
Youre coming aboard for a drink in my cabin, he said.
Youll find it nice and snug in there with the hatch closed, and
youll be able to receive Lord Glos orders in privacy.
Toller shrugged and shook his head as he watched the two men
depart. The captains excessive familiarity was a breach of the
behavioural code in itself, and his blatant insincerity in embracing
a man he had just thrown to the ground was nothing short of
an insult. It accorded Sisstt the status of a dog which could be
whipped or petted at the whim of its owner. But, true to his
colours, the station chief appeared not to mind. A sudden
bellowing laugh from Hlawnvert showed that Sisstt had already
begun to make his little jokes, laying the groundwork for the
version of the encounter he would later pass on to his staff and
expect them to believe. The captain loves people to think hes a
realogrebut when you get to know him as well as I do. . . .
Again Toller found himself wondering about the nature of
Hlawnverts mission. What new orders could be so urgent and
important that Lord Glo had considered it worth sending them
by special carrier instead of waiting for a routine transport? Was
it possible that something was going to happen to break the
deadly monotony of life at the remote station? Or was that too
much to hope for?
As darkness swept out of the west Toller looked up at the sky
and saw the last fierce sliver of the sun vanish behind the looming
immensity of Overland. As the light abruptly faded the cloudless
areas of the sky thronged with stars, comets and whorls of misty
radiance. Littlenight was beginning, and under its cover the
silent globes of the ptertha would soon leave the clouds and
come drifting down to ground level in search of their natural
prey.
Glancing about him, Toller realised he was the last man out in
the open. All personnel connected with the station had retreated
indoors and the crew of the airship were safely enclosed in its
lower deck. He could be accused of foolhardiness in lingering
outside for so long, but it was something he quite often did. The
flirtations with danger added spice to his humdrum existence and
were a way of demonstrating the essential difference between
himself and a typical member of one of the philosophy families.
On this occasion his gait was slower and more casual than ever as
he walked up the gentle incline to the supervisors building. It
was possible that he was being watched, and his private code
dictated that the greater the risk of a ptertha strike the less afraid
he should appear to be. On reaching the door he paused and
stood quite still for a moment, despite the crawling sensation on
his back, before lifting the latch and going inside.
Behind him, dominating the southern sky, the nine brilliant
stars of the Tree tilted down towards the horizon.
Chapter 2
As the elder son of the King, and as head of all of Kolcorrons
military forces, he was expected to address himself mainly to
matters of policy and broad strategy in warfare. As far as
individual battles were concerned, his proper place was far to the
rear in a heavily protected command post from which he could
direct operations in safety. But he had little or no taste for
hanging back and allowing deputies, in whose competence he
rarely had faith anyway, to enjoy the real work of soldiering.
Practically every junior officer and foot soldier had a winestory
about how the prince had suddenly appeared at his side in the
thick of battle and helped him hew his way to safety. Leddravohr
encouraged the growth of the legends in the interests of discipline
and morale.
He had been supervising the Third Armys push into the
Loongl Peninsula, on the eastern edge of the Kolcorronian
possessions, when word had been received of unexpectedly
strong resistance in one hilly region. The additional intelligence
that brakka trees were plentiful in the area had been enough
to lure Leddravohr into the front line. He had exchanged
his regal white cuirass for one moulded from boiled leather
and had taken personal control of part of an expeditionary
force.
It was shortly after dawn when, accompanied by an experienced
high-sergeant called Reeff, he bellied his way through
forest undergrowth to the edge of a large clearing. This far to the
east foreday was much longer than aftday, and Leddravohr knew
he had ample reserves of light in which to mount an attack and
carry out a thorough mopping-up operation afterwards. It was a
goad feeling, knowing that yet more enemies of Kolcorron were
soon to go down weltering in blood before his own sword. He
carefully parted the last leafy screen and studied what was
happening ahead.
A circular area some four-hundred yards in diameter had been
totally cleared of tall vegetation except for a stand of brakka
trees at the centre. About a hundred Gethan tribesmen and
women were clustered around the trees, their attention concentrated
on an object at the tip of one of the slim, straight trunks.
Leddravohr counted the trees and found there were ninea
number which had magical and religious links with the heavenly
constellation of the Tree.
He raised his field glasses and saw, as he had expected, that the
object surmounting one of the trees was a naked woman. She
was doubled over the tip of the trunk, her stomach pressed into
the central orifice, and was held immovably in place by cords
around her limbs.
The savages are making one of their stupid sacrifices,
Leddravohr whispered, passing his glasses to Reeff.
The sergeant examined the scene for a long moment before
returning the glasses. My men could put the bitch to better uses
than that, he said, but at least it makes things easier for us.
He pointed at the thin glass tube attached to his wrist. Inside it
was part of a cane shoot which had been marked with black
pigment at regular intervals. A pacebeetle was devouring the
shoot from one end, moving at the unchanging rate common to
its kind.
It is past the fifth division, Reef said. The other cohorts
will be in position by now. We should go in while the savages are
distracted.
Not yet. Leddravohr continued watching the tribesmen
through his glasses. I can see two look-outs who are still facing
outwards. These people are becoming a bit more wary, and dont
forget they have copied the idea of cannon from somewhere.
Unless we take them completely by surprise they will have time
to fire at us. I dont know about you, but I dont want to breakfast
on flying rock. I find it quite indigestible.
Reeff grinned appreciatively. Well wait till the tree blows.
It wont be longthe top leaves are folding. Leddravohr
watched with interest as the uppermost of the trees four pairs of
gigantic leaves rose from their normal horizontal position and
furled themselves around the trunk. The phenomenon occurred
about twice a year throughout a brakka trees span of maturity in
the wild state, byt it was one which as a native of Kolcorron he
had rarely seen. In hi.s country it was regarded as a waste of
power crystals to permit a brakka to discharge itself.
There was a short delay after the top leaves had closed against
the trunk, then the second pair quivered and slowly swung
upwards. Leddravohr knew that, well below the ground, the
partition which divided the trees combustion chamber was
beginning to dissolve. Soon the green pikon crystals which had
been extracted from the soil by the upper root system would
mingle with the purple halvell gathered by the lower network of
roots. The heat and gas thus generated would be contained for a
brief period of timethen the tree would blast its pollen into the
sky in an explosion which would be heard for miles.
Lying prone on the bed of soft vegetation, Leddravohr felt a
pulsing warmth in his groin and realised he was becoming
sexually excited. He focused his glasses on the woman lashed to
the top of the tree, trying to pick out details of breast or buttock.
Until that moment she had been so passive that he had believed
her to be unconscious, perhaps drugged, but the movement of
the huge leaves farther down the trunk appeared to have alerted
her to the fact that her life was about to end, although her limbs
were too well bound to permit any real struggle. She had begun
twisting her head from side to side, swinging the long black hair
which hid her face.
Stupid bitch, Leddravohr whispered. He had limited his
study of the Gethan tribes to an assessment of their military
capabilites, but he guessed their religion was the uninspired
mishmash of superstitions found in most of the backward countries
of Land. In all probability the woman had actually volunteered
for her role in the fertility rite, believing that her sacrifice
would guarantee her reincarnation as a princess on Overland.
Generous dosages of wine and dried mushroom could render
such ideas temporarily persuasive, but there was nothing like the
imminence of death to induce a more rational mode of thought.
Stupid bitch she may be, but I wish I had her under me right
now, Reeff growled. I dont know which is going to blow
firstthat tree or mine.
Ill give her to you when we have finished our work,
Leddravohr said with a smile. Which half will you take first?
Reeff produced a nauseated grimace, expressing his admiration
for the way in which the prince could match the best of his
men in any branch of soldiering, including that of devising
obscenities. Leddravohr turned his attention to the Gethan
look-outs. His field glasses showed that they were, as he had
anticipated, casting frequent glances towards the sacrificial tree,
upon which the third pair of leaves had begun to rise. He knew
there was a straightforward botanical reason for the trees
behaviourleaves in the horizontal attitude would have been
snapped off by the recoil of the pollination dischargebut the
sexual symbolism was potent and compelling. Leddravohr was
confident that every one of the Gethan guards would be staring
at the tree when the climactic moment arrived. He put his glasses
away and took a firm grip on his sword as the leaves clasped the
brakkas trunk and, almost without delay, the lowermost pair
began to stir. The flailing of the womans hair was frenetic now
and her cries were thinly audible at the edge of the clearing,
mingled with the chanting of a single male voice from somewhere
near the centre of the tribal assembly.
Ten nobles extra to the man who silences the priest, Leddravohr
said, reaffirming his dislike for all superstition-mongers,
especially the variety who were too craven to do their own
pointless butchery.
He raised a hand to his helmet and removed the cowl which
had concealed its scarlet crest. The young lieutenants
commanding the other three cohorts would be watching for the flash
of colour as he emerged from the forest. Leddravohr tensed
himself for action as the fourth pair of leaves lifted and closed
around the brakkas trunk, gentle as a lovers hands. The woman
trussed across the tip of the tree was suddenly quiescent, perhaps
in a faint, perhaps petrified with dread. An intense pulsing
silence descended over the clearing. Leddravohr knew that the
partition in the trees combustion chamber had already given
way, that a measure of green and purple crystals had already
been mixed, that the energy released by them could be pent up
for only a few seconds . . . .
The sound of the explosion, although directed upwards, was
appalling. The brakkas trunk whipped and shuddered as the
pollinated discharge ripped into the sky, a vaporous column
momentarily tinged with blood, concentrically ringed with
smoke.
Leddravohr felt the ground lift beneath him as a shock wave
raced out through the surrounding forest, then he was on his feet
and running. Deafened by the awesome blast of sound, he had to
rely on the evidence of his eyes to gauge the degree of surprise in
the attack. To the left and right he could see the orange helmet
crests of two of his lieutenants, with dozens of soldiers emerging
from the trees behind them. Directly ahead of him the Gethans
were gazing spellbound at the sacrificial tree, whose leaves were
already beginning to unfurl, but they were bound to discover
their peril at any second. He had covered almost half the
distance to the nearest guard and unless the man turned soon he
was going to die-without even knowing what had hit him.
The man turned. His face contorted, the mouth curving
downwards, as he shouted a warning. He stamped his right foot
on something concealed in the grass. Leddravohr knew it was the
Gethan version of a cannona brakka tube set on a shallow
ramp and intended solely for anti-personnel use. The impact of
the guards foot had shattered a glass or ceramic capsule in the
breech and mixed its charge of power crystals, butand this was
why Kolcorron had little regard for such weaponsthere was an
inevitable delay before the discharge. Brief though the period
was, it enabled Leddravohr to take evasive action. Shouting a
warning to the soldiers behind him, he veered to the right and
came at the Gethan from the side just as the cannon exploded
and sent its fan-shaped spray of pebbles and rock fragments
crackling through the grass. The guard had managed to draw his
sword, but his preoccupation with the sacrifice had rendered him
untuned and unready for combat. Leddravohr, without even
breaking his stride, cut him down with a single slash across the
neck and plunged on into the confusion of human figures
beyond.
Normal time ceased to exist for Leddravohr as he cut his way
towards the centre of the clearing. He was only dimly aware of
the sounds of struggle being punctuated by further cannon
blasts. At least two of the Gethans he killed were young women,
something his men might grumble about later, but he had seen
otherwise good soldiers lose their lives through trying to
differentiate between the sexes during a battle. Turning a killing
stroke into one which merely stunned involved making a decision
and losing combat efficiencyand it took only an eyeblink
for an enemy blade to find its mark.
Some of the Gethans were trying to make their escape, only to
be felled or turned back by the encircling Kolcorronians. Others
were making a fight of it as best they could, but their preoccupation
with the ceremony had been fatal and they were paying
the full price for their lack of vigilance. A group of tribesmen,
plait-haired and outlandish in skin mosaics, got among the nine
brakka trees and used the trunks as a natural fortification.
Leddravohr saw two of his men take serious wounds, but the
Gethans stand was short-lived. They were hampered by lack of
room and made easy targets for spearmen from the second
cohort.
All at once the battle was over.
With the fading of the crimson joy and the return of sanity
Leddravohrs cooler instincts reasserted themselves. He
scanned his surroundings to make sure he was in no personal
danger, that the only people still on their feet were Kolcorronian
soldiers and captured Gethan women, then he turned his gaze
to the sky. While in the forest he and his men had been safe
from ptertha, but now they were in the open and at some slight
risk.
The celestial globe which presented itself to Leddravohrs
scrutiny looked strange to a native of Kolcorron. He had grown
up with the huge and misty sphere of Overland hanging directly
overhead, but here in the Loongl Peninsula the sister world was
displaced far to the west. Leddravohr could see clear sky straight
above and it gave him an uncomfortable feeling, as though he
had left an important flank exposed in a battle plan. No bluish
specs were to be seen drifting against the patterns of daytime
stars, however, and he decided it was safe to return his attention
to the work at hand.
The scene all about him was a familiar one, filled with a
medley of familiar sounds. Some of the Kolcorronians were
shouting coarse jokes at each other as they moved about the
clearing dispatching wounded Gethans and collecting battle
trophies. The tribesmen had little that could be considered
valuable, but their Y-shaped ptertha sticks would make interesting
curios to be shown in the taverns of Ro-Atabri. Other
soldiers were laughing and whooping as they stripped the dozen
or so Gethan women who had been taken alive. That was a
legitimate activity at this stagemen who had fought well were
entitled to the prizes of warand Leddravohr paid only enough
attention to satisfy himself that no actual coupling had begun. In
this kind of territory an enemy counterattack could be launched
very quickly, and a soldier in rut was one of the most useless
creatures in the universe.
Railo, Nothnalp and Chravellthe lieutenants who had led
the other three cohortsapproached Leddravohr. The leather
of Railos circular shield was badly gashed and there was a
reddening bandage on his left arm, but he was fit and in good
spirits. Nothnalp and Chravell were cleaning their swords with
rags, removing all traces of contamination from the enamel
inlays on the black blades.
A successful operation, if Im not mistaken, Railo said,
giving Leddravohr the informal field salute.
Leddravohr nodded. What casualties?
Three dead and eleven wounded. Two of the wounded were
hit by the cannon. They wont see littlenight.
Will they take the Bright Road?
Railo looked offended. Of course.
Ill speak to them before they go, Leddravohr said. As a
pragmatic man with no religious beliefs he suspected his words
might not mean much to the dying soldiers, but it was the sort of
gesture which would be appreciated by their comrades. Like his
practice of permitting even the lowliest line soldier to speak to
him without using the proper forms of address, it was one of the
ways in which he retained the affection and loyalty of his troops.
He kept to himself the intelligence that his motives were entirely
practical.
Do we push straight on the Gethan village? Chravell, the
tallest of the lieutenants, returned his sword to its sheath. Its
not much more than a mile to the north-east, and they probably
heard the cannon fire.
Leddravohr considered the question. How many adults
remain in the village?
Practically none, according to the scouts. They all came here
to see the show. Chravell glanced briefly upwards at the
dehumanised tatters of flesh and bone dangling from the tip of
the sacrificial tree.
In that case the village has ceased to be a military threat and
has become an asset. Give me a map. Leddravohr took the
proffered sheet and went down on one knee to spread it on the
ground. It had been drawn a short time previously by an aerial
survey team and emphasised the local features of interest to the
Kolcorronian commandersthe size and location of Gethan
settlements, topography, rivers, andmost important from a
strategic point of viewthe distribution of brakka among the
other types of forestation. Leddravohr studied it carefully, then
outlined his plans.
Some twenty miles beyond the village was a much larger
community, coded G31, capable of fielding an estimated three-hundred
fighting men. The intervening terrain was, to say the
least of it, difficult. It was densely wooded and crisscrossed with
steep ridges, crevasses and fast-flowing streamsall of which
conspired to make it a nightmare for Kolcorronian soldiers
whose natural taste was for plains warfare.
The savages must come to us, Leddravohr announced. A
forced march across that type of ground will tire any man, so the
faster they come the better for us. I take it this is a sacred place
for them?
A holy of holies, Railo said. Its very unusual to find nine
brakka so close together.
Good! The first thing we do is bring the trees down. Instruct
the sentinels to allow some villagers to get close enough to see
what is happening, and to let them get away again. And just
before littlenight send a detachment to burn the villagejust to
drive the message home. If we are lucky the savages will be so
exhausted when they get here theyll barely have enough
strength to run on to our swords.
Leddravohr concluded his deliberately simplistic verbal
sketch by laughing and tossing the map back to Chravell. His
judgment was that the Gethans of G31, even if provoked into a
hasty attack, would be more dangerous opponents than the
lowland villagers. The forthcoming battle, as well as providing
valuable experience for the three young officers, would let him
demonstrate once again that in his forties he was a better soldier
than men half his age. He stood up, breathing deeply and
pleasurably, looking forward to the remainder of a day which
had begun well.
In spite of his relaxed mood, ingrained habit prompted him to
check the open sky. No ptertha were visible, but he was alerted
by a suggestion of movement in one of the vertical panels of sky
seen through the trees to the west. He took out his field glasses,
trained them on the adjoining patch of brightness and a moment
later caught a brief glimpse of a low-flying airship.
It was obviously heading for the area command centre, which
was about five miles away on the western edge of the peninsula.
The vessel had been too distant for Leddravohr to be certain, but
he thought he had seen a plume-and-sword symbol on the side of
the gondola. He frowned as he tried to imagine what circumstance
was bringing one of his fathers messengers to such an
outlying region.
The men are ready for breakfast, Nothnalp said, removing
his orange-crested helmet so that he could wipe perspiration
from his neck. A couple of extra strips of salt pork wouldnt do
any harm in this heat.
Leddravohr nodded. I suppose theyve earned that much.
Theyd also like to start on the women.
Not until we secure the area. Make sure it is fully patrolled,
and get the slimers brought forward immediatelyI want those
trees on the ground fast. Leddravohr moved away from the
lieutenants and began a circuit of the clearing. The predominant
sound was now that of the Gethan women screaming abuse
in their barbaric tongue, but cooking fires were beginning to
crackle and he could hear Railo shouting orders at the platoon
leaders who were going on patrol.
Near the base of one of the brakka trees was a low wooden
platform heavily daubed in green and yellow with the matt
pigments used by the Gethans. The naked body of a white-bearded
man lay across the platform, his torso displaying several
stab wounds. Leddravohr guessed the dead man was the priest
who had been conducting the ceremony of sacrifice. His guess
was confirmed when he noticed high-sergeant Reeff and a line
soldier in conversation close to the primitive structure. The two
mens voices were inaudible, but they were speaking with the
peculiar intensity which soldiers reserved for the subject of
money, and Leddravohr knew a bargain was being struck. He
unstrapped his cuirass and sat down on a stump, waiting to see if
Reeff was capable of any degree of subtlety. A moment later
Reeff put his arm around the other mans shoulders and brought
him forward.
This is Soo Eggezo, Reeff said. A good soldier. Hes the
one who silenced the priest.
Useful work, Eggezo. Leddravohr gazed blandly at the
young soldier, who was tongue-tied and obviously overawed
by his presence, and made no other response. There was an
awkward silence.
Sir, you generously offered a reward of ten nobles for killing
the priest. Reeff s voice assumed a throaty sincerity. Eggezo
supports his mother and father in Ro-Atabri. The extra money
would mean a great deal to them.
Of course. Leddravohr opened his pouch and took out a
ten-noble note and extended it to Eggezo. He waited until the
soldiers fingers had almost closed on the blue square of woven
glass, then he quickly returned it to his pouch. Eggezo glanced
uneasily at the sergeant.
On second thoughts, Leddravohr said, these might be
more . . . convenient. He replaced the first note with two green
squares of the five-noble denomination and handed them to
Eggezo. He pretended to lose interest as the two men thanked
him and hurried away. They went barely twenty paces before
stopping for another whispered conversation, and when they
parted Reeff was tucking something into a pocket. Leddravohr
smiled as he committed Reeff s name to long-term memory. The
sergeant was the sort of man he occasionally had use forgreedy,
stupid and highly predictable. A few seconds later his
interest in Reeff was pushed into the hinterland of his consciousness
as a howl of jovial protest from many Kolcorronian throats
told him the slimers had arrived to deal with the stand of brakka
trees.
Leddravohr rose to his feet, as anxious as anybody to avoid
getting downwind of the slimers, and watched the four semi-nude
men emerge from the surrounding forest. They were
carrying large gourds slung from padded yokes and they also
bore spades and other kinds of digging implements. Their limbs
were streaked with the living slime which was the principal tool
of their trade. Every artifact they carried was made from glass,
stone or ceramic because the slime would quickly have devoured
all other materials, especially brakka. Even their breech clouts
were woven from soft glass.
Out of the way, dung-eaters, their round-bellied leader
shouted as they marched straight across the clearing to the
brakka. His words provoked a barrage of insults from the
soldiers, to which the other slimers responded with obscene
gestures. Leddravohr moved to keep upwind of the four men,
partly to escape the stench they were exuding, but mainly to
ensure that none of the slimes airborne spores settled on his
person. The only way to rid ones self of even the slightest
contamination was by thorough and painful abrasion of the skin.
On reaching the nearest brakka the slimers set down their
equipment and began work immediately. As they dug to expose
the upper root system, the one which extracted pikon, they kept
up their verbal abuse of all soldiers who caught their gaze. They
could do so with impunity because they knew themselves to be
the cornerstone of the Kolcorronian economy, an outcast elite,
and were accorded unique privileges. They were also highly paid
for their services. After ten years as a slimer a man could retire to
a life of easeprovided he survived the lengthy process of being
cleansed of the virulent mucus.
Leddravohr watched with interest as the radial upper roots
were uncovered. A slimer opened one of the glass gourds and,
using a spatula, proceeded to daub the main roots with the
pus-like goo. Cultured from the solvent the brakka themselves
had evolved to dissolve their combustion chamber diaphragms,
the slime gave out a choking odour like bile-laden vomit
mingled, incongruously, with the sweetness of whitefern. The
roots, which would have resisted the sharpest blade, swelled
visibly as their cellular structure was attacked. Two other slimers
hacked through them with slate axes and, working with showy
energy for the benefit of their audience, dug further down to
reveal the lower root system and the bulbous swelling of the
combustion chamber at the base of the trunk. Inside it was a
valuable harvest of power crystals which would have to be
removed, taking the utmost care to keep the two varieties
separated, before the tree could be felled.
Stand back, dung-eaters, the oldest slimer called out.
Stand back and let . . . . His voice faded as he raised his eyes
and for the first time realised that Leddravohr was present. He
bowed deeply, with a grace which went ill with his naked and
filth-streaked belly, and said, I cannot apologise to you, Prince,
because of course my remarks were not addressed to you.
Well put, Leddravohr said, appreciating nimbleness of
mind from such an unlikely source. Im pleased to learn you *
dont suffer from suicidal tendencies. Whats your name?
It is Owpope, Prince.
Proceed with your labours, OwpopeI never tire of seeing
the wealth of our country being produced.
Gladly, Prince, but there is always a slight risk of a blowout
through the side of the chamber when we broach a tree.
Just exercise your normal discretion, Leddravohr said,
folding his arms. His acute hearing picked up a ripple of
admiring whispers going through the nearby soldiery, and he knew he
had added to his reputation as the prince with the common
touch. The word would spread fastLeddravohr loves his
people so much that he will even converse with a slimer. The little
episode was a calculated exercise in image-building, but in truth
he did not feel he was demeaning himself by talking to a man like
Owpope, whose work was of genuine importance to Kolcorron.
It was the useless parasiteslike the priests and philosopherswho
earned his hatred and contempt. They would be the first
to be purged out of existence when he eventually became King.
He was settling down to watch Owpope apply an elliptical
pattern of slime to the curving base of the brakka trunk when his
attention was again caught by a movement in the sky to the west.
The airship had returned and was scudding through the narrow
band of blue which separated Overland from the jagged wall of
trees. Its appearance after such a short time meant that it had not
landed at G1, the area command centre. The captain must have
communicated with the base by sunwriter and then come directly
to the forward zonewhich made it almost certain that he was
carrying an urgent message to Leddravohr from the King.
Mystified, Leddravohr shaded his eyes from the suns glare as
he watched the airship slow down and manoeuvre towards a
landing in the forest clearing.
Chapter 3
From the window of his study he had a panoramic view of the
citys various districtsresidential, commercial, industrial,
administrativeas they sifted down to the Borann River and on
the far bank gave way to the parklands surrounding the five
palaces. The families headed by the Lord Philosopher had been
granted a cluster of dwellings and other buildings on this choice
site many centuries earlier, during the reign of Bytran IV, when
their work was held in much higher regard.
The Lord Philosopher himself lived in a sprawling structure
known as Greenmount Peel, and it was a sign of his former
importance that all the houses in his bailiwick had been placed in
line-of-sight with the Great Palace, thus facilitating communication
by sunwriter. Now, however, such prestigious features
only added to the jealousy and resentment felt by the heads of
other orders. Lain Maraquine knew that the industrial supremo,
Prince Chakkell, particularly wanted Greenmount as an
adornment to his own empire and was doing everything in his
power to have the philosophers deposed and moved to humbler
accommodation.
It was the beginning of aftday, the region having just emerged
from the shadow of Overland, and the city was looking beautiful
as it returned to life after its two-hour sleep. The yellow, orange
and red coloration of trees which were shedding their leaves
contrasted with the pale and darker greens of trees with different
cycles which were coming into bud or were in full foliage. Here
and there the brightly glowing envelopes of airships created
pastel circles and ellipses, and on the river could be seen the
white sails of ocean-going ships which were bringing a thousand
commodities from distant parts of Land.
Seated at his desk by the window, Lain was oblivious to the
spectacular view. All that day he had been aware of a curious
excitement and a sense of expectancy deep within himself. There
was no way in which he could be certain, but his premonition was
that the mental agitation was leading to something of rare
importance.
For some time he had been intrigued by an underlying similarity
he had observed in problems fed into his department from a
variety of sources. The problems were as routine and mundane
as a vintner wanting to know the most economical shape of jar in
which to market a fixed quantity of wine, or a farmer trying to
decide the best mix of crops for a certain area of land at different
times of the year.
It was all a far cry from the days when his forebears had been
charged with tasks like estimating the size of the cosmos, and yet
Lain had begun to suspect that somewhere at the heart of the
commonplace commercial riddles there lurked a concept whose
implications were more universal than the enigmas of astronomy.
In every case there was a quantity whose value was
governed by changes in another quantity, and the problem was
that of finding an optimum balance. Traditional solutions
involved making numerous approximations or plotting vertices on
a graph, but a tiny voice had begun to whisper to Lain and its
message was the icily thrilling one that there might be a way of
arriving at & precise solution algebraically, with a few strokes of
the pen. It was something to do with the mathematical notion of
limits, with the idea that. . . .
Youll have to help with the guest list, Gesalla said as she
swept into the panelled study. I cant do any serious planning
when I dont even know how many people we are going to have.
A glimmering in the depths of Lains mind was abruptly
extinguished, leaving him with a sense of loss which quickly
faded as he looked up at his black-haired solewife. The illness of
early pregnancy had narrowed the oval of her face and given her
a dark-eyed pallor which somehow emphasised her intelligence
and strength of character. She had never looked more beautiful
in Lains eyes, but he still wished she had not insisted on starting
the baby. That slender, slim-hipped body did not look to him as
though it had been designed for motherhood and he had private
fears about the outcome.
Oh, Im sorry, Lain, she said, her face showing concern.
Did I interrupt something important?
He smiled and shook his head, once again impressed by her
talent for divining other peoples thoughts. Isnt it early to be
planning for Yearsend?
Yes. She met his gaze coollyher way of challenging him
to find anything wrong with being efficient. Now, about your
guests. . . .
I promise to write out a list before the day is over. I suppose it
will be much the same as usual, though Im not sure if Toller will
be home this year.
I hope he isnt, Gesalla said, wrinkling her nose. I dont
want him. It would be so pleasant to have a party without any
arguments or fighting.
He is my brother, Lain protested amiably.
Half-brother would be more like it.
Lains good humour was threatened. Im glad my mother
isnt alive to hear that comment.
Gesalla came to him immediately, sat on his lap and kissed
him on the mouth, moulding his cheeks with both her hands to
coax him into an ardent response. It was a familiar trick of hers,
but nonetheless effective. Still feeling privileged even after two
years of marriage, he slid his hand inside her blue camisole and
caressed her small breasts. After a moment she sat upright and
gave him a solemn stare.
I didnt mean any disrespect to your mother, she said. Its
just that Toller looks more like a soldier than a member of this
family.
Genetic flukes sometimes happen.
And theres the way he cant even read.
Weve been through all this before, Lain said patiently.
When you get to know Toller better youll see that he is as
intelligent as any other member of the family. He can read, but
he isnt fluent because of some problem with the way he perceives
printed words. In any case, most of the military are
literateso your observation is lacking in relevance.
Well. . . . Gesalla looked dissatisfied. Well, why does he
have to cause trouble everywhere he goes?
Lots of people have that habitincluding one whose left
nipple is tickling my palm at this moment.
Dont try to turn my mind to other thingsespecially at this
time of day.
All right, but why does Toller bother you so much? I mean,
we are pretty well surrounded by individualists and near-eccentrics
on Greenmount.
Would you like it better if I were one of those faceless
females who have no opinions about anything? Gesalla was
galvanised into springing to her feet, her light body scarcely
reacting against his thighs, and an expression of dismay
appeared on her face as she looked down into the walled precinct
in front of the house. Were you expecting Lord Glo?
No.
Bad luckyouve got him. Gesalla hurried to the door of
the study. Im going to vanish before he arrives. I cant afford to
spend half the day listening to all that endless humming and
hawingnot to mention the smutty innuendoes. She gathered
her ankle-length skirts and ran silently towards the rear stairs.
Lain took off his reading glasses and gazed after her, wishing
she would not keep reviving the subject of his brothers parentage.
Aytha Maraquine, his mother, had died in giving birth to
Toller, so if there had been an adulterous liaison she had more
than paid for it. Why could Gesalla not leave the matter at that?
Lain had been attracted to her for her intellectual independence
as well as her beauty and physical grace, but he had not bargained
for the antagonism towards his brother. He hoped it was
not going to lead to years of domestic friction.
The sound of a carriage door slamming in the precinct drew his
attention to the outside world. Lord Glo had just stepped down
from the aging but resplendent phaeton which he always used for
short journeys in the city. Its driver, holding the two bluehorns in
check, nodded and fidgeted as he received a lengthy series of
instructions from Glo. Lain guessed that the Lord Philosopher
was using a hundred words where ten would have sufficed and he
began to pray that the visit would not be too much of an
endurance test. He went to the sideboard, poured out two
glasses of black wine and waited by the study door until Glo
appeared.
Youre very kind, Glo said, taking his glass as he entered
and going straight to the nearest chair. Although in his late
fifties, he looked much older thanks to his rotund figure and the
fact that his teeth had been reduced to a few brownish pegs
splayed behind his lower lip. He was breathing noisily after
climbing the stairs, his stomach ballooning and collapsing under
his informal grey-and-white robe.
Its always a pleasure to see you, my lord, Lain said,
wondering if there was a special reason for the visit and knowing
there was little point in his trying to elicit the information too
soon.
Glo drank half his wine in one gulp. Mutual, my boy. Oh!
Ive got something . . . hmm . . . at least, I think Ive got
something to show you. Youre going to like this. He set his
glass aside, groped in the folds of his clothing and eventually
produced a square of paper which he handed to Lain. It was
slightly sticky and mid-brown in colour except for a circular
patch of mottled tan in the centre.
Farland. Lain identified the circle as being a light picture of
the only other major planet in the local system, orbiting the sun
at some twice the distance of the Land-Overland pair. The
images are getting better.
Yes, but we still cant make them permanent. That one has
faded . . . hmm . . . noticeably since last night. You can hardly
see the polar caps now, but last night they were very clear. Pity.
Pity. Glo took the picture back and studied it closely, all the
while shaking his head and sucking his teeth.
The polar caps were as clear as daylight. Clear as daylight, I
tell you. Young Enteth got a very good confirmation of the angle
of . . . ah . . . inclination. Lain, have you ever tried to visualise
what it would be like to live on a world whose axis was tilted?
There would be a hot period of the year, with long days and short
nights, and a cold . . . hmm . . . period, with long days . . . I
mean short days . . . and long nights . . . all depending on where
the planet was in its orbit. The colour changes on Farland show
that all the vegetation is geared to a single . . . hmm . . .
superimposed cycle.
Lain concealed his impatience and boredom as Glo launched
himself upon one of his most familiar set pieces. It was a cruel
irony that the Lord Philosopher was becoming prematurely
senile, and Lainwho had a genuine regard for the older
mansaw it as a duty to give him maximum support, personally
and professionally. He replenished his visitors drink and
made appropriate comments as Glo meandered on from
elementary astronomy to botany and the differences between
the ecology of a tilted world and that of Land.
On Land, where there were no seasons, the very first fanners
must have had the task of separating the natural jumble of edible
grasses into synchronous batches which matured at chosen
times. Six harvests a year was the norm in most parts of the
world. Thereafter it had simply been a matter of planting and
reaping six adjacent strips to maintain supplies of grain, with no
long-term storage problems. In modern times the advanced
countries had found it more efficacious to devote whole farms to
single-cycle crops and to work in six-farm combines or multiples
thereof, but the principle was the same.
As a boy, Lain Maraquine had enjoyed speculating about life
on distant planetsassuming they existed in other parts of the
universe and were peopled by intelligent beingsbut he had
quickly found that mathematics offered him greater scope for
intellectual adventure. Now all he could wish for was that Lord
Glo would either go away and let him get on with his work or
proceed to explain his visit. Tuning his thoughts back into the
rambling discourse he found that Glo had switched back to the
experiments with photography and the difficulties of producing
emulsions of light-sensitive vegetable cells which would hold an
image for more than a few days.
Why is it so important to you? Lain put in. Anybody in
your observatory staff could draw a much better picture by
hand.
Astronomy is only a tiny bit of it, my boythe aim is to be
able to produce totally . . . hmm . . . accurate pictures of
buildings, landscapes, people.
Yes, but we already have draughtsmen and artists who can
do that.
Glo shook his head and smiled, showing the ruins of his teeth,
and spoke with unusual fluency. Artists only paint what they or
their patrons believe to be important. We lose so much. The
times slip through our fingers. I want every man to be his own
artistthen well discover our history.
Do you think it will be possible?
Undoubtedly. I foresee the day when everybody will carry
light-sensitive material and will be able to make a picture of
anything in the blink of an eye.
You can still outfly any of us, Lain said, impressed, feeling
he had momentarily been in the presence of the Lord Glo who
used to be. And by flying higher you see farther.
Glo looked gratified. Never mind thatgive me more . . .
hmm . . . wine. He watched his glass closely while it was being
refilled, then settled back in his chair. You will never guess
what has happened.
Youve impregnated some innocent young female.
Try again.
Some innocent young female had impregnated you.
This is a serious matter, Lain. Glo made a damping movement
with his hand to show that levity was out of place. The
King and Prince Chakkell have suddenly wakened up to the fact
that we are running short of brakka.
Lain froze in the act of raising his own glass to his lips. I cant
believe this, as you predicted. How many reports and studies
have we sent them in the last ten years?
Ive lost count, but it looks as though they have finally taken
some effect. The King has called a meeting of the high . . .hmm
. . . council.
I never thought hed do it, Lain said. Have you just come
from the palace?
Ah . . . no. Ive known about the meeting for some days, but
I couldnt pass the news on to you because the King sent me off to
Sorkaof all places!on another . . . hmm . . . matter. I just
got back this foreday.
I could use an extra holiday.
It was no holiday, my boy. Glo shook his large head and
looked solemn. I was with Tunsfoand I had to watch one of
his surgeons perform an autopsy on a soldier. I dont mind
admitting I have no stomach for that kind of thing.
Please! Dont even talk about it, Lain said, feeling a gentle
upward pressure on his diaphragm at the thought of knives going
through pallid skin and disturbing the cold obscenities beneath.
Why did the King want you there?
Glo tapped himself on the chest. Lord Philosopher, thats
me. My word still carries a lot of weight with the King.
Apparently our soldiers and airmen are becoming. . . hmm. . .
demoralised over rumours that it isnt safe to go near ptertha
casualties.
Not safe? In what way?
The story is that several line soldiers contracted pterthacosis
through handling victims.
But thats nonsense, Lain said, taking a first sip of his wine.
What did Tunsfo find?
It was pterthacosis, all right. No doubt about it. Spleen like a
football. Our official conclusion was that the soldier
encountered a globe at dead of night and took the dust without
knowing itor that he was telling . . . hmm . . . lies.
That happens, you know. Some men cant face up to it.
They even manage to convince themselves that theyre all
right.
I can understand that. Lain drew in his shoulders as though
feeling cold. The temptation must be there. After all, the
slightest air current can make all the difference. Between life and
death.
I would prefer to talk about our own concerns. Glo stood up
and began to pace the room. This meeting is very important to
us, my boy. A chance for the philosophy order to win the
recognition it deserves, to regain its former status. Now, I want
you to prepare the graphs in personmake them big and
colourful and . . . hmm . . . simpleshowing how much pikon
and halvell Kolcorron can expect to manufacture in the next fifty
years. Five year increments might be appropriateI leave that
to you. We also need to show how, as the requirement for
natural crystals decreases, our reserves of home-grown brakka
will increase until we . . . .
My lord, slow down a little, Lain protested, dismayed to see
GIos visionary rhetoric waft him so far from the realities of the
situation. I hate to appear pessimistic, but there is no guarantee
that we will produce any usable crystals in the next fifty years.
Our best pikon to date has a purity of only one third, and the
halvell is not much better.
Glo gave an excited laugh. Thats only because we havent
had the full backing of the King. With proper resources we can
solve all the purification problems in a few years. Im sure of it!
Why the King even permitted me to use his messengers to recall
Sisstt and Duthoon. They can give up-to-date reports on their
progress at the meeting. Hard factsthat what impress the
King. Practicalities. I tell you, my boy, the times are changing. I
feel sick. Glo dropped back into his chair with a thud which
disturbed the decorative ceramics on the nearest wall.
Lain knew he should go forward to offer comfort, but he found
himself shrinking back. Glo looked as though he could vomit at
any moment, and the thought of being close to him when it
happened was too distasteful. Even worse, the meandering veins
on Glos temples seemed in danger of rupturing. What if there
actually were a fountaining of red? Lain tried to visualise how he
would cope if some of the other mans blood got on to his own
person and again his stomach gave a preliminary heave.
Shall I go and fetch something? he said anxiously. Some
water?
More wine, Glo husked, holding out his glass.
Do you think you should?
Dont be such a prune, my boyits the best tonic there is. If
you drank a little more wine it might put some flesh on your. . .
hmm . . . bones. Glo studied his glass while it was being
refilled, making sure he received full measure, and the colour
began returning to his face. Now, what was I talking about?
Wasnt it something to do with the impending rebirth of our
civilisation?
Glo looked reproachful. Sarcasm? Is that sarcasm?
Im sorry, my lord, Lain said. Its just that brakka
conservation has always been a passion with mea subject
upon which I can easily become intemperate.
I remember. Glos gaze travelled the room, noting the use
of ceramics and glass for fitments which in almost any other
house would have been carved from the black wood. You dont
think you . . . hmm . . . overdo it?
Its the way I feel. Lain held up his left hand and indicated
the black ring he wore on the sixth finger. The only reason I
have this much is that it was a wedding token from Gesalla.
Ah yesGesalla. Glo bared his divergent teeth in a parody
of lecherousness. One of these nights,! swear, youll have some
extra company in bed.
My bed is your bed, Lain said easily, aware that Lord Glo
never claimed his noblemans right to take any woman in the
social group of which he was dynastic head. It was an ancient
custom in Kolcorron, still observed in the major families, and
Glos occasional jests on the subject were merely his way of
emphasising the philosophy orders cultural superiority in
having left the practice behind.
Bearing in mind your extreme views, Glo went on, returning
to his original subject, couldnt you bring yourself to
adopt a more positive attitude to the meeting? Arent you
pleased about it?
Yes, Im pleased. Its a step in the right direction, but it has
come so late. You know it takes fifty or sixty years for a brakka to
reach maturity and enter the pollinating phase. Wed still be
facing that time lag even if we had the capability to grow pure
crystals right nowand its frighteningly large.
All the more reason to plan ahead, my boy.
Truebut the greater the need for a plan the less chance it
has of being accepted.
That was very profound,Glo said. Now tell me what
it . . . hmm . . . means.
There was a time, perhaps fifty years ago, when Kolcorron
could have balanced supply and demand by implementing just a
few commonsense conservation measures, but even then the
princes wouldnt listen. Now were in a situation which calls for
really drastic measures. Can you imagine how Leddravohr
would react to the proposal that all armament production should
be suspended for twenty or thirty years?
It doesnt bear thinking about, Glo said. But arent you
exaggerating the difficulties?
Have a look at these graphs. Lain went to a chest of shallow
drawers, took out a large sheet and spread it on his desk where it
could be seen by Glo. He explained the various coloured diagrams,
avoiding abstruse mathematics as much as possible,
analysing how the countrys growing demands for power crystals
and brakka were interacting with other factors such an increasing
scarcity and transport delays. Once or twice as he spoke it
came to him that here, yet again, were problems in the same
general class as those he had been thinking about earlier. Then
he had been tantalised by the idea that he was about to conceive
of an entirely new way of dealing with them, something to do
with the mathematical concept of limits, but now material and
human considerations were dominating his thoughts.
Among them was the fact that Lord Glo, who would be the
principal philosophy spokesman, had become incapable of
following complex arguments. And in addition to his natural
disability, Glo was now in the habit of fuddling himself with wine
every day. He was nodding a great deal and sucking his teeth,
trying to exhibit concerned interest, but the fleshy wattles of his
eyelids were descending with increasing frequency.
So thats the extent of the problem, my lord, Lain said,
speaking with extra fervour to get Glos attention. Would you
like to hear my departments views on the kind of measures
needed to keep the crisis within manageable proportions?
Stability, yes, stabilitythats the thing. Glo abruptly
raised his head and for a moment he seemed utterly lost, his pale
blue eyes scanning Lains face as though seeing it for the first
time. Where were we?
Lain felt depressed and oddly afraid. Perhaps it would
be best if I sent a written summary to you at the Peel, one you
could go over at your leisure. When is the council going to
meet?
On the morning of two-hundred. Yes, the King definitely
said two-hundred. What day is this?
One-nine-four.
There isnt much time, Glo said sadly. I promised the King
Id have a significant. . . hmm . . .contribution.
You will.
Thats not what I. . . . Glo stood up, swaying a little, and
faced Lain with an odd tremulous smile. Did you really mean
what you said?
Lain blinked at him, unable to place the question in context
properly. My lord?
About my . . . about my flying higher . . . seeing farther?
Of course, Lain said, beginning to feel embarrassed. I
couldnt have been more sincere.
Thats good. It means so. . . . Glo straightened up and
expanded his plump chest, suddenly recovering his normal
joviality. Well show them. Well show all of them. He went to
the door, then paused with his hand on the porcelain knob. Let
me have a summary as soon as. . .hmm. . .possible. Oh, by the
way, I have instructed Sisstt to bring your brother home with
him.
Thats very kind of you, my lord, Lain said, his pleasure at
the prospect of seeing Toller again modified by thoughts of
Gesallas likely reaction to the news.
Not at all. I think we were all a trifle hard on him. I mean, a
year in a miserable place like Haffanger just for giving Ongmat a
tap on the chin.
As a result of that tap Ongmats jaw was broken in two
places.
Well, it was a firm tap. Glo gave a wheezing laugh. And we
all felt the benefit of Ongmat being silenced for a while. Still
chuckling, he moved out of sight along the corridor, his sandals
slapping on the mosaic floor.
Lain carried his hardly-touched glass of wine to his desk and
sat down, swirling the black liquid to create light patterns on its
surface. Glos humorous endorsement of Tollers violence was
quite typical of him, one of the little ways in which he reminded
members of the philosophy order that he was of royal lineage
and therefore had the blood of conquerors in his veins. It showed
he was feeling better and had recovered his self-esteem, but it
did nothing to ease Lains worries about the older mans physical
and mental fitness.
In the space of only a few years Glo had turned into a
bumbling and absent-minded incompetent. His unsuitability for
his post was tolerated by most department heads, some of whom
appreciated the extra personal freedom they derived from it, but
there was a general sense of demoralisation over the orders
continuing loss of status. The aging King Prad still retained an
indulgent fondness for Gloand, so the whispers went, if
philosophy had come to be regarded as a joke it was appropriate
that it should be represented by a court jester.
But there was nothing funny about a meeting of the high
council, Lain told himself. The person who presented the case
for rigorous brakka conservation would need to do it with
eloquence and force, marshalling complex arguments and backing
them up with an unassailable command of the statistics
involved. His stance would be generally unpopular, and would
attract special hostility from the ambitious Prince Chakkell and
the savage Leddravohr.
If Glo proved unable to master the brief in time for the
meeting it was possible he would call on a deputy to speak on his
behalf, and the thought of having to challenge Chakkell or
Leddravohreven verballyproduced in Lain a cold panic
which threatened to affect his bladder. The wine in his glass was
now reflecting a pattern of trembling concentric circles.
Lain set the glass down and began breathing deeply and
steadily, waiting for the shaking of his hands to cease.
Chapter 4
He could feel the body heat of the woman who was lying at his
left side, one of her arms resting on his stomach, one of her legs
drawn up across his thighs. The sensations were all the more
pleasant for being unfamiliar. He lay quite still, staring at the
ceiling, as he tried to recall the exact circumstances which had
brought female company to his austere apartment in the Square
House.
He had celebrated his return to the capital with a round of the
busy taverns in the Samlue district. The tour had begun early on
the previous day and had been intended to last only until the
end of littlenight, but the ale and wine had been persuasive
and the acquaintances he met had eventually begun to seem
like cherished friends. He had continued drinking right
through aftday and well into the night, revelling in his escape
from the smell of the pikon pans, and at a late stage had begun
to notice the same woman close to him in the throng time
after time, much more often than could be accounted for by
chance.
She had been tawny-haired and tall, full-breasted, broad of
shoulder and hipthe sort of woman Toller had dreamed about
during his exile in Haffanger. She had also been brazenly
chewing a sprig of maidenfriend. He had a clear memory of her
face, which was round and open and uncomplicated, with wine-heightened
colouring on the cheeks. Her smile had been very
white and marred only by a tiny triangular chip missing from one
front incisor. Toller had found her easy to talk to, easy to laugh
with, and in the end it had seemed the most natural thing in the
world for them to spend the night together. . . .
Im hungry, she said abruptly, raising herself into a sitting
position beside him. I want some breakfast.
Toller ran an appreciative eye over her splendidly naked torso
and smiled. Supposing I want something else first?
She looked disappointed, but only for an instant, then returned
his smile as she moved to bring her breasts into contact
with his chest. If youre not careful Ill ride you to death.
Please try it, Toller said, his smile developing into a
gratified chuckle. He drew her down to him. A pleasurable warmth
suffused his mind and body as they kissed, but within a moment
he became aware of something being wrong, of a niggling sense
of unease. He opened his eyes and immediately identified one
source of his worrythe brightness of his bedchamber indicated
that it was well past dawn. This was the morning of day two-hundred,
and he had promised his brother that he would be up at
first light to help move some charts and a display easel to the
Great Palace. It was a menial task which anybody could have
done, but Lain had seemed anxious for him to undertake it,
possibly so that he would not be left alone in the house with
Gesalla while the lengthy council meeting was in progress.
Gesalla!
Toller almost groaned aloud as he remembered that he had
not even seen Gesalla on the previous day. He had arrived from
Haffanger early in the morning and after a brief interview with
his brotherduring which Lain had been preoccupied with his
chartshad gone straight out on the drinking spree. Gesalla, as
Lains solewife, was mistress of the household and as such would
have expected Toller to pay his respects at the formal evening
meal. Another woman might have overlooked his behavioural
lapse, but the fastidious and unbending Gesalla was bound to
have been furious. On the flight back to Ro-Atabri Toller had
vowed that, to avoid causing any tensions in his brothers house,
he would studiously keep on the right side of Gesallaand he
had led off by affronting her on the very first day. The flickering
of a moist tongue against his own suddenly reminded Toller that
his transgressions against domestic protocol had been greater
than Gesalla knew.
Im sorry about this, he said, twisting free of the embrace,
but you have to go home now.
The womans jaw sagged. What?
Come onhurry it up. Toller stood up, swept her clothes
into a wispy bundle and pushed them into her arms. He opened a
wardrobe and began selecting fresh clothes for himself,
But what about my breakfast?
Theres no timeI have to get you out of here.
Thats just great, she said bitterly, beginning to sort through
the binders and scraps of near-transparent fabric which were her
sole attire.
I told you I was sorry, Toller said as he struggled into
breeches which seemed determined to resist entry.
A lot of good that. . . . She paused in the act of gathering
her breasts into a flimsy sling and scrutinised the room from
ceiling to floor. Are you sure you live here?
Toller was amused in spite of his agitation. Do you think
I would just pick a house at random and sneak in to use a
bed?
I thought it was a bit strange last night. . . getting a coach all
the way out here . . . keeping so quiet. . . This is Greenmount,
isnt it? Her frankly suspicious stare travelled his heavily
muscled arms and shoulders. He guessed the direction in which
her thoughts were going, but there was no hint of censure in her
expression and he took no offence.
Its a nice morning for a walk, he said, raising her to an
upright position and hastening herclothing still partially
unfastenedtowards the rooms single exit. He opened the door at
the precise instant needed to bring him into confrontation with
Gesalla Maraquine, who had been passing by in the corridor.
Gesalla was pale and ill-looking, thinner than when he had last
seen her, but her grey-eyed gaze had lost none of its forceand
it was obvious she was angry.
Good foreday, she said, icily correct. I was told you had
returned.
I apologise for last night, Toller said. I . . . I got detained.
Obviously. Gesalla glanced at his companion with open
distaste. Well?
Well what?
Arent you going to introduce your . . . friend?
Toller swore inwardly as it came to him that there was no
longer the slightest hope of salvaging anything from the situation.
Even allowing for the fact that he had been adrift on a
vinous sea when he met his bed partner, how .could he have
overlooked such a basic propriety as asking her name? Gesalla
was the last person in the world to whom he couid have explained
the mood of the previous evening, and that being the case there
was no point in trying to placate her. Im sorry about this, dear
brother, he thought. I didnt plan it this way. . . .
The frosty female is my sister-in-law, Gesalla Maraquine,
he said, putting an arm around his companions shoulders as he
kissed her on the forehead. She would like to know your name,
andconsidering the sport we had during the nightso would
I.
Fera, the woman said, making final adjustments to her
garments. Fera Rivoo.
Isnt that nice? Toller smiled broadly at Gesalla. Now we
can all be friends together.
Please see that she leaves by one of the side gates, Gesalla
said. She turned and strode away, head thrown back, each foot
descending directly in front of the other.
Toller shook his head. What do you think was the matter
with her?
Some women are easily upset. Fera straightened up and
pushed Toller away from her. Show me the way out.
I thought you wanted breakfast.
I thought you wanted me to go home.
You must have misunderstood me, Toller said. Id like
you to stay, for as long as you want. Have you a job to worry
about?
Oh, I have a very important position in the Samlue market
gutting fish. Fera held up her hands, which were reddened
and marked by numerous small cuts. How do you think I got
these?
Forget the job, Toller urged, enclosing her hands with his
own. Go back to bed and wait for me there. Ill have food sent
to you. You can rest and eat and drink all dayand tonight well
go on the pleasure barges.
Fera smiled, filling the triangular gap in her teeth with the tip
of her tongue. Your sister-in-law. . . .
Is only my sister-in-law. I was born in this house and grew up
in it and have the right to invite guests. You are staying, arent
you?
Will there be spiced pork?
I assure you that entire piggeries are reduced to spiced pork
on a daily basis in this house, Toller said, leading Fera back into
the room. Now, you stay here until I get back, then well take
up where we left off.
All right. She lay down on the bed, settled herself comfortably
on the pillows and spread her legs. Just one thing before
you go.
Yes?
She gave him her full white smile. Perhaps youd better tell
me your name.
Toller was still chuckling as he reached the stairs at the end of
the corridor and went down towards the central section of the
house, from which was emanating the sound of many voices. He
found Feras company refreshing, but her presence in the house
might be just too much of an affront to Gesalla to be tolerated for
very long. Two or three days would be sufficient to make the
point that Gesalla had no right to insult him or his guests, that
any effort she made to dominate himas she did his brother
would be doomed to failure.
When Toller reached the bottom flight of the main staircase he
found about a dozen people gathered in the entrance hall. Some
were computational assistants; others were domestics and
grooms who seemed to have gathered to watch their master set
off for his appointment at the Great Palace. Lain Maraquine was
wearing the antique-styled formal garment of a senior philosophera
full-length robe of dove grey trimmed at the hem and
cuff with black triangles. Its silky material emphasised the
slightness of his build, but his posture was upright and dignified.
His face, beneath the heavy sweeps of black hair, was very pale.
Toller felt a surge of affection and concern as he crossed the
hallthe council meeting was obviously an important occasion
for his brother and he was already showing the strain.
Youre late, Lain said, eyeing him critically. And you
should be wearing your greys.
There was no time to get them ready. I had a rough night.
Gesalla has just told me what kind of night you had. Lains
expression showed a blend of amusement and exasperation. Is
it true you didnt even know the womans name?
Toller shrugged to disguise his embarrassment. What do
names matter?
If you dont know that there isnt much point in my trying to
enlighten you.
I dont need you to. . . . Toller took a deep breath, determined
for once not to add to his brothers problems by losing his
temper. Where is the stuff you want me to carry?
Toller Maraquine, however, was untroubled by such aesthetic
quibbles as he rode down from Greenmount at the rear of his
brothers modest entourage. There had been rain before dawn
and the morning air was clean and invigorating, charged with a
sunlit spirit of new beginnings. The huge disk of Overland shone
above him with a pure lustre and many stars decked the surrounding
blueness of the sky. The city itself was an incredibly
complex scattering of multi-hued flecks stretching down to the
slate-blue ribbon of the Borann, where sails gleamed like
lozenges of snow.
Tollers pleasure at being back in Ro-Atabri, at having
escaped the desolation of Haffanger, had banished his customary
dissatisfaction with his life as an unimportant member of the
philosophy order. After the unfortunate start to the day the
pendulum of his mood was on the upswing. His mind was
teeming with half-formed plans to improve his reading ability, to
seek out some interesting aspect of the orders work and devote
all his energies to it, to make Lain proud of him. On reflection he
could appreciate that Gesalla had had every right to be furious
over his behaviour. It would be no more than a normal courtesy
were he to move Fera out of his apartment as soon as he returned
home.
The sturdy bluehorn he had been allocated by the stablemaster
was a placid beast which seemed to know its own way to
the palace. Leaving it to its own devices as it plodded the
increasingly busy streets, Toller tried to create a more definite
picture of his immediate future, one which might impress Lain.
He had heard of one research group which was trying to develop
a combination of ceramics and glass threads which would
be tough enough to stand in for brakka in the manufacture
of swords and armour. It was quite certain that they would
never succeed, but the subject was nearer to his taste than
chores like the measuring of rainfall, and it would please Lain
to know that he was supporting the conservation movement.
The next step was to think of a way of winning Gesallas
approval. . . .
By the time the philosophy delegation had passed through the
heart of the city and had crossed the river at the Bytran Bridge
the palace and its grounds were spanning the entire view ahead.
The party negotiated the four concentric bloom-spangled moats,
whose ornamentation disguised their function, and halted at the
palaces main gate. Several guards, looking like huge black
beetles in their heavy armour, came forward at a leisurely pace.
While their commander was laboriously checking the visitors
names on his list one of his pikemen approached Toller and,
without speaking, began roughly delving among the rolled-up
charts in his panniers. When he had finished he paused to spit on
the ground, then turned his attention to the collapsed easel
which was strapped across the bluehorns haunches. He tugged
at the polished wooden struts so forcibly that the bluehorn
sidestepped against him.
Whats the matter with you? he growled, shooting Toller a
venomous look. Cant you control that fleabag?
Im a new person, Toller assured himself, and I cant be goaded
into brawls. He smiled and said, Can you blame her for wanting
to get near you?
The pikemans lips moved silently as he came closer to Toller,
but at that moment the guard commander gave the signal for the
party to proceed on its way. Toller urged his mount forward and
resumed his position behind Lains carriage. The minor brush
with the guard had left him slightly keyed-up but otherwise
unaffected, and he felt pleased with the way he had comported
himself. It had been a valuable exercise in avoiding unnecessary
trouble, the art he intended to practise for the rest of his life.
Sitting easily in the saddle, enjoying the rhythm of the
bluehorns stately gait, he turned his thoughts to the business
ahead.
Toller had been to the Great Palace only once before, as a
small child, and had only the vaguest recollection of the domed
Rainbow Hall in which the council meeting was to be held. He
doubted that it could be as vast and as awe-inspiring as he
remembered, but it was a major function room in the palace and
its use as a venue today was significant. King Prad obviously
regarded the meeting as being important, a fact which Toller
found somewhat puzzling. All his life he had been listening to
conservationists like his brother issuing sombre warnings about
dwindling resources of brakka, but everyday life in Kolcorron
had continued very much as before. It was true that in recent
years there had been periods when power crystals and the black
wood had been in short supply, and the cost kept rising, but new
reserves had always been found. Try as he might, Toller could
not imagine the natural storehouse of an entire world failing to
meet his peoples needs.
As the philosophy delegation reached the elevated ground on
which the palace itself was situated he saw that many carriages
were gathered on the principal forecourt. Among them was the
flamboyant red-and-orange phaeton of Lord Glo. Three men in
philosophy greys were standing beside it, and when they noticed
Lains carriage they advanced to intercept it. Toller identified
the stunted figure of Vorndal Sisstt first; then Duthoon, leader of
the halvell section; and the angular outline of Borreat Hargeth,
chief of weapons research. All three appeared nervous and
unhappy, and they closed on Lain as soon as he had stepped
down from his carriage.
Were in trouble, Lain, Hargeth said, nodding in the direction
of Glos phaeton. Youd better take a look at our esteemed
leader.
Lain frowned. Is he ill?
No, he isnt illId say he never felt better in his life.
Dont tell me hes been. . . . Lain went to the phaeton and
wrenched open the door. Lord Glo, who had been slumped with
his head on his chest, jerked upright and looked about him with a
startled expression. He brought his pale blue eyes to focus on
Lain, then showed the pegs of his lower teeth in a smile.
Good to see you, my boy, he said. I tell you this is going
to be our . . . hmm . . . day. Were going to carry all before
us.
Toller swung himself down from his mount and tethered it to
the rear of the carriage, keeping his back to the others to conceal
his amusement. He had seen Glo the worse for wine several
times before, but never so obviously, so comically incapable. The
contrast between Glos ruddy-cheeked euphoria and the scandalised,
ashen countenances of his aides made the situation even
funnier. Any notions they had about making a good showing at
the meeting were being swiftly and painfully revised. Toller
could not help but enjoy another person attracting the kind of
censure which so often was reserved for him, especially when the
offender was the Lord Philosopher himself.
My lord, the meeting is due to begin soon, Lain said. But
if you are indisposed perhaps we could . . . .
Indisposed! What manner of talk is that? Glo ducked his
head and emerged from his vehicle to stand with unnatural
steadiness. What are we waiting for? Lets take our places.
Very well, my lord. Lain came to Toller with a hag-ridden
expression. Quate and Locranan will take the charts and easel.
I want you to stay here by the carriage and keep an . . . What do
you find so amusing?
Nothing, Toller said quickly. Nothing at all.
You have no idea of whats at stake today, have you?
Conservation is important to me, too, Toller replied,
making his voice as sincere as possible. I was only. . . .
Toller Maraquine! Lord Glo came towards Toller with arms
outstretched, his eyes bulging with pleasurable excitement. I
didnt know you were here! How are you, my boy?
Toller was mildly surprised at even being recognised by Glo,
let alone being greeted so effusively. Im in good health, my
lord.
You look it. Glo reached up and put an arm around Tollers
shoulders and swung to face the others. Look at this fine figure
of a manhe reminds me of myself when I was . . . hmm . . .
young.
We should take our places right away, Lain said. I dont
want to hurry you, but. . . .
Youre quite rightwe shouldnt delay our moment of . . .
hmm . . . glory. Glo gave Toller an affectionate squeeze,
exhaling the reek of wine as he did so. Come on, Tolleryou
can tell me what youve been doing with yourself out in
Haffanger.
Lain stepped forward, looking anxious. My brother isnt part
of the delegation, my lord. He is supposed to wait here.
Nonsense! Were all together.
But he has no greys.
That doesnt matter if hes in my personal retinue, Glo said
with the kind of mildness that brooked no argument. Well
proceed.
Toller met Lains gaze and issued a silent disclaimer by
momentarily raising his eyebrows as the group moved off in the
direction of the palaces main entrance. He welcomed the
unexpected turn of events, which had saved him from what had
promised to be a spell of utter boredom, but he was still
resolved to maintain a good relationship with his brother. It was
vital for him to be as unobtrusive as possible during the meeting,
and in particular to keep a straight face regardless of what kind
of performance Lord Glo might put on. Ignoring the curious
glances from passers-by, he walked into the palace with Glo
hugging his arm and did his best to produce acceptable small-talk
in response to the older mans questioning, even though all his
attention was being absorbed by his surroundings.
The palace was also the seat of the Kolcorronian administration
and it gave him the impression of being a city within a city.
Its corridors and staterooms were populated by sombre-faced
men whose manner proclaimed that their concerns were not
those of ordinary citizens. Toller was unable even to guess at
their functions or the subjects of their low-voiced conversations.
His senses were swamped by the sheer opulence of the carpets
and hangings, the paintings and sculptures, the complexity of the
vaulted ceilings. Even the least important doors appeared to
have been carved from single slabs of perette, elvart or glasswood,
each one representing perhaps a years work for a master
craftsman.
Lord Glo seemed oblivious to the atmosphere of the palace,
but Lain and the rest of his party were noticeably subdued. They
were moving in a tight group, like soldiers in hostile territory.
After a lengthy walk they reached an enormous double door
guarded by two black-armoured ostiaries. Glo led the way into
the huge elliptical room beyond. Toller hung back to give his
brother precedence, and almost gasped as he got his first adult
glimpse of the famed Rainbow Hall. Its domed roof was made
entirely of square glass panels supported on intricate lattices of
brakka. Most of the panels were pale blue or white, to represent
clear sky and clouds, but seven adjacent curving bands echoed
the colours of the rainbow. The light blazing down from the
canopy was a mingling, merging glory which made the furnishings
of the hall glow with tinted fire.
At the far locus of the ellipse was a large but unadorned throne
on the uppermost level of a dais. Three lesser thrones were
ranged on the second level for the use of the princes who were
expected to be present. In ancient times the princes would all
have been sons of the ruler, but with the countrys expansion and
development it had become expedient to allow some government posts
to be filled by collateral descendants. These were
numerous, thanks to the sexual license accorded to the nobility,
and it was usually possible to allocate important responsibilities
to suitable men. Of the current monarchy, only Leddravohr
and the colourless Pouche, controller of public finances, were
acknowledged sons of the King.
Facing the thrones were seats which had been laid out in radial
sections for the orders whose concerns ranged from the arts and
medicine to religion and proletarian education. The philosophy
delegation occupied the middle sector in accordance with the tradition
dating back to Bytran IV, who had believed that
scientific knowledge was the foundation upon which Kolcorron
would build a future world empire. In subsequent centuries it
had become apparent that science had already learned all that
was worth learning about the workings of the universe, and the
influence of Bytrans thinking had faded, but the philosophy
order still retained many of the trappings of its former eminence,
in spite of opposition from others of a more pragmatic turn of
mind.
Toller felt an ungrudging admiration for Lord Glo as the
pudgy little man, large head thrown back and stomach protruding,
marched up the hall and took his position before the
thrones. The remainder of the philosophy delegation quietly
seated themselves behind him, exchanging tentative glances
with their opposites in neighbouring sectors. There were more
people than Toller had expectedperhaps a hundred in allthe
other delegations being augmented by clerks and advisors.
Toller, now profoundly grateful for his supernumerary status,
slid into the row behind Lains computational assistants and
waited for the proceedings to begin.
There was a murmurous delay punctuated by coughs and
occasional nervous laughs, then a ceremonial horn was sounded
and King Prad and the three princes entered the hall by way of a
private doorway beyond the dais.
At sixty-plus the ruler was tall and lean, carrying his years well
in spite of one milk-white eye which he refused to cover.
Although Prad was an imposing and regal figure in his blood-coloured
robes as he ascended to the high throne, Tollers
interest was captured by the powerful, slow-padding form of
Prince Leddravohr. He was wearing a white cuirass made from
multiple layers of sized linen moulded to the shape of a perfectly
developed male torso, and it was evident from what could be
seen of his arms and legs that the cuirass did not belie what it
covered. Leddravohrs face was smooth and dark-browed, suggestive
of brooding power, and it was obvious from his bearing
that he had no wish to be present at the council meeting. Toller
knew him to be the veteran of a hundred bloody conflicts and he
felt a pang of envy as he noted the obvious disdain with which
Leddravohr surveyed the assembly before lowering himself on
to the central throne of the second tier. He could daydream
about playing a similar role, that of the warrior prince, reluctantly
recalled from dangerous frontiers to attend to trivialities
of civilian existence.
An official beat on the floor three times with his staff to signal
that the council meeting had begun. Prad, who was noted for the
informality with which he held court, began to speak at once.
I thank you for your attendance here today, he said, using
the inflections of high Kolcorronian. As you know, the subject
for discussion is the increasing scarcity of brakka and energy
crystalsbut before I hear your submissions it is my will that
another matter be dealt with, if only to establish its relative
unimportance to the security of the empire.
I do not refer to the reports from various sources that ptertha
have sharply increased in number during the course of this year.
It is my considered opinion that the apparent increases can be
explained by the fact that our armies are, for the first time,
operating in regions of Land wherebecause of the natural
conditionsptertha have always been more plentiful. I am
instructing Lord Glo to instigate a thorough survey which will
provide more reliable statistics, but in any case there is no cause
for alarm. Prince Leddravohr assures me that the existing procedures
and anti-ptertha weapons are more than adequate to
deal with any exigency.
Of more pressing concern to us are rumours that soldiers
have died as a result of coming into contact with ptertha
casualties. The rumours appear to have originated from units of the
Second Army on the Sorka front, and they have spread quicklyas
such harmful fictions doas far as Loongl in the east and
the Yalrofac theatre in the west.
Prad paused and leaned forward, his blind eye gleaming. The
demoralising effect of this kind of scaremongering is a greater
threat to our national interests than a two-fold or three-fold
increase in the ptertha population. All of us in this hall know that
pterthacosis cannot be passed on by bodily contact or any other
means. It is the duty of every man here to ensure that harmful
stories claiming otherwise are stamped out with all possible
speed and vigour. We must do everything in our power to
promote a healthy scepticism in the minds of the proletariat
and I look particularly to teacher, poet and priest in this
respect.
Toller glanced to each side and saw the leaders of several
delegations nodding as they made notes. It was surprising to him
that the King should deal with such a minor issue in person, and
for a moment he toyed with the startling idea that there might
actually be some kernel of truth in the odd rumours. Common
soldiers, sailors and airmen were a stolid lot as a rulebut on the
other hand they tended to be ignorant and gullible. On balance,
he could see no reason to believe there was anything more to fear
from the ptertha than in any previous era in Kolcorrons long
history.
. . . principal subject for discussion, King Prad was saying.
The records of the Ports Authority show that in the year 2625
our imports of brakka from the six provinces amounted to only
118,426 tons. It is the twelfth year in succession that the total has
fallen. The pikon and halvell yield was correspondingly down.
No figures are available for the domestic harvest, but the
preliminary estimates are less encouraging than usual.
The situation is exacerbated by the fact that military and
industrial consumption, particularly of crystals, continues to
rise. It is becoming obvious that we are approaching a crucial
period in our countrys fortunes, and that far-reaching strategies
will have to be devised to deal with the problem. I will now
entertain your proposals.
Prince Leddravohr, who had become restless during his
fathers summation, rose to his feet at once. Majesty, I intend
no disrespect to you, but I confess to growing impatient with all
this talk of scarcity and dwindling resources. The truth of the
matter is that there is an abundance of brakkasufficient to
meet our needs for centuries to come. There are great forests
of brakka as yet untouched. The real shortcoming lies within
ourselves. We lack the resolution to turn our eyes towards the
Land of the Long Daysto go forth and claim what is rightfully
ours.
In the assembly there was an immediate flurry of excitement
which Prad stilled by raising one hand. Toller sat up straighter,
suddenly alerted.
I will not countenance any talk of moving against Chamteth,
Prad said, his voice harsher and louder than before.
Leddravohr spun to face him. It is destined to happen sooner
or laterso why not sooner?
I repeat there will be no talk of a major war.
In that case, Majesty, I beg your permission to withdraw,
Leddravohr said, his manner taking him within a hair-breadth of
insolence. I can make no contribution to a discussion from
which plain logic is barred.
Prad gave his head a single birdlike shake. Resume your seat
and curb your impatienceyour newfound regard for logic may
yet prove useful. He smiled at the rest of the gatheringhis way of
saying, Even a king has problems with unruly offspringand
invited Prince Chakkell to put forward ideas for reducing
industrial consumption of power crystals.
Toller relaxed again while Chakkell was speaking, but he was
unable to take his eyes off Leddravohr, who was now lounging in
an exaggerated posture of boredom. He was intrigued, disturbed
and strangely captivated by the discovery that the military prince
regarded war with Chamteth as both desirable and inevitable.
Little was known about the exotic land which, being on the far
side of the world, was untouched by Overlands shadow and
therefore had an uninterrupted day.
The available maps were very old and of doubtful accuracy,
but they showed that Chamteth was as large as the Kolcorronian
empire and equally populous. Few travellers had penetrated to
its interior and returned, but their accounts had been unanimous
in the descriptions of the vast brakka forests. The reserves had
never been depleted because the Chamtethans regarded it as the
ultimate sin to interrupt the life cycle of the brakka tree. They
drew off limited quantities of crystals by drilling small holes into
the combustion chambers, and restricted their use of the black
wood to what could be obtained from trees which had died
naturally.
The existence of such a fabulous treasurehouse had attracted
the interest of Kolcorronian rulers in the past, but no real
acquisitive action had ever been taken. One factor was the sheer
remoteness of the country; the other was the Chamtethans
reputation as fierce, tenacious and gifted fighters. It was thought
that their army was the sole user of the countrys supply of
crystals, and certainly the Chamtethans were well known for
their extensive use of cannonone of the most extravagant ways
ever devised for the expending of crystals. They were also totally
insular in their outlook, rejecting all commercial and cultural
contact with other nations.
The cost, one way or another, of trying to exploit Chamteth
had always been recognised as being too great, and Toller had
taken it for granted that the situation was a permanent part of the
natural order of things. But he had just heard talk of change
and he had a deep personal interest in that possibility.
The social divisions in Kolcorron were such that in normal
circumstances a member of one of the great vocational family of
families was not permitted to cross the barriers. Toller, restless
and resentful over having been born into the philosophy order,
had made many futile attempts to get himself accepted for
military service. His lack of success had been made all the more
galling by the knowledge that there would have been no obstacle
to his joining the army had he been part of the proletarian
masses. He would have been prepared to serve as a line soldier in
the most inhospitable outpost of the empire, but one of his social
rank could be accorded nothing less than officer statusan
honour which was jealously guarded by the military caste.
All that, Toller now realised, was concomitant on the affairs of
the country following the familiar centuries-old course. A war
with Chamteth would force profound changes on Kolcorron,
however, and King Prad would not be on the throne for ever. He
was likely to be succeeded by Leddravohr in the not-too-distant
futureand when that happened the old order would be swept
away. It looked to Toller as though his fortunes could be directly
affected by those of Leddravohr, and the mere prospect was
enough to produce an undertow of dark excitement in his
consciousness. The council meeting, which he had expected to
be routine and dull, was proving to be one of the most significant
occasions of his life.
On the dais the swarthy, balding and paunchy Prince Chakkell
was concluding his opening remarks with a statement that he
needed twice his present supply of pikon and halvell for quarrying
purposes if essential building projects were to continue.
You appear not to be in sympathy with the stated aims of this
gathering, Prad commented, beginning to show some exasperation.
May I remind you that I was awaiting your thoughts
on how to reduce requirements?
My apologies, Majesty, Chakkell said, the stubbornness of
his tone contradicting the words. The son of an obscure nobleman,
he had earned his rank through a combination of energy,
guile and driving ambition, and it was no secret in the upper
echelons of Kolcorronian society that he nursed hopes of seeing
a change in the rules of succession which would allow one of his
children to ascend the throne. Those aspirations, coupled with
the fact that he was Leddravohrs main competitor for brakka
products, meant that there was a smouldering antagonism
between them, but on this occasion both men were in accord.
Chakkell sat down and folded his arms, making it clear that any
thoughts he had on the subject of conservation would not be to
the Kings liking.
There appears to be a lack of understanding of an extremely
serious problem, Prad said severely. I must emphasise that the
country is facing several years of acute shortages of a vital
commodity, and that I expect a more positive attitude from my
administrators and advisors for the remainder of this meeting.
Perhaps the gravity of the situation will be borne home to you if I
call upon Lord Glo to report on the progress which has been
made thus far with the attempts to produce pikon and halvell by
artificial means. Although our expectations are high in this
regard, there isas you will heara considerable way to go,
and it behoves us to plan accordingly.
Let us hear what you have to say, Lord Glo.
There was an extended silence during which nothing happened,
then Boreatt Hargethin the philosophy sectors second
rowwas seen to lean forward and tap Glos shoulder. Glo
jumped to his feet immediately, obviously startled, and somebody
across the aisle on Tollers right gave a low chuckle.
Pardon me, Majesty, I was collecting my thoughts, Glo
said, his voice unnecessarily loud. What was your . . . hmm . . .
question?
On the dais Prince Leddravohr covered his face with one
splayed hand to mime embarrassment and the same man on
Tollers right, encouraged, chuckled louder. Toller turned in his
direction, scowling, and the manan official in Lord Tunsfos
medical delegationglanced at him and abruptly ceased
looking amused.
The King gave a tolerant sigh. My question, if you will
honour us by bringing your mind to bear on it, was a general one
concerning the experiments with pikon and halvell. Where do
we stand?
Ah! Yes, Majesty, the situation is indeed as I . . . hmm . . .
reported to you at our last meeting. We have made great strides
. . . unprecedented strides . . . in the extraction and purification
of both the green and the purple. We have much to be proud of.
AH that remains for us to do at this . . . hmm . . . stage is to
perfect a way of removing the contaminants which inhibit the
crystals from reacting with each other. That is proving. . . hmm
. . . difficult.
Youre contradicting yourself, Glo. Are you making
progress with purification or are you not?
Our progress has been excellent, Majesty. As far as it goes,
that is. Its all a question of solvents and temperatures and . . .
um . . . complex chemical reactions. We are handicapped by not
having the proper solvent.
Perhaps the old fool drank it all, Leddravohr said to Chakkell,
making no attempt to modulate his voice. The laughter
which followed his words was accompanied by a frisson of
uneasemost of those present had never seen a man of Glos
rank so directly insulted.
Enough! Prads milk-white eye narrowed and widened
several times, a warning beacon. Lord Glo, when I spoke to
you ten days ago you gave me the impression that you could
begin to produce pure crystals within two or three years. Are you
now saying differently?
He doesnt know what hes saying, Leddravohr put in,
grinning, his contemptuous stare raking the philosophy sector.
Toller, unable to react in any other way, spread his shoulders to
make himself as conspicuous as possible and sought to hold
Leddravohrs gaze, and all the while an inner voice was pleading
with him to remember his new vows, to use his brains and stay
out of trouble.
Majesty, this is a matter of great. . . hmm . . . complexity,
Glo said, ignoring Leddravohr. We cannot consider the subject
of power crystals in isolation. Even if we had an unlimited supply
of crystals this very day . . . There is the brakka tree itself, you
see. Our plantations. It takes six centuries for the seedlings to
mature and. . . .
You mean six decades, dont you?
I believe I said decades, Majesty, but I have another proposal
which I beg leave to bring to your attention. Glos voice
had developed a quaver and he was swaying slightly. I have the
honour to present for your consideration a visonary scheme, one
which will shape the ultimate future of this great nation of ours.
A thousand years from now our descendants will look back on
your reign with wonder and awe as they. . . .
Lord Glo! Prad was incredulous and angry. Are you ill or
drunk?
Neither, Majesty.
Then stop prating about visions and answer my question
concerning the crystals.
Glo seemed to be labouring for breath, his plump chest
swelling to take up the slack in his grey robe. I fear I may be
indisposed, after all. He pressed a hand to his side and dropped
into his chair with an audible thud. My senior mathematician,
Lain Maraquine, will present the facts on my . . . hmm . . . behalf.
Toller watched with growing trepidation as his brother stood
up, bowed towards the dais, and signalled for his assistants,
Quate and Locranan, to bring his easel and charts forward. They
did so and erected the easel with a fumbling eagerness which
prolonged what should have been the work of a moment. More
time was taken up as the chart they unrolled and suspended had
to be coaxed to remain flat. On the dais even the insipid Prince
Pouche was beginning to look restless. Toller was concerned to
see that Lain was trembling with nervousness.
What is your intention, Maraquine? the King said, not
unkindly. Am I to revisit the classroom at my time of life?
The graphics are helpful, Majesty, Lain said. They illustrate
the factors governing the. . . .The remainder of his reply
drifted into inaudibility as he indicated key features on the vivid
diagrams.
Cant hear you, Chakkell snapped irritably. Speak up!
Where are your manners? Leddravohr said, turning to him.
What way is that to address such a shy young maiden? A
number of men in the audience, taking their cue, guffawed
loudly.
This shouldnt be happening, Toller thought as he rose to his
feet, the blood roaring in his ears. The Kolcorronian code of
conduct ruled that to step in and reply to a challengeand an
insult was always regarded as suchissued to a third party was
to add to the original slur. The imputation was that the insulted
man was too cowardly to defend his own honour. Lain had often
claimed that it was his duty as a philosopher to soar above all
such irrationalities, that the ancient code was more suited to
quarrelsome animals than thinking men. Knowing that his
brother would not and could not take up Leddravohrs challenge,
knowing further that he was barred from active intervention,
Toller was taking the only course open to him. He stood up
straight, differentiating himself from the seated nonparticipants
all around, waiting for Leddravohr to notice him and interpret
his physical and mental stance.
Thats enough, Leddravohr. The King slapped the arms of
his throne. I want to hear what the wrangler has to say. Go
ahead, Maraquine.
Majesty, I. . . .Lain was now quivering so violently that his
robe was fluttering.
Try to put yourself at ease, Maraquine. I dont want a lengthy
discourseit will suffice for you to tell me how many years will
elapse, in your expert opinion, before we can produce pure
pikon and halvell.
Lain took a deep breath, fighting to control himself. It is
impossible to make predictions in matters like this.
Give me your personal view. Would you say five years?
No, Majesty. Lain shot a sideways glance at Lord Glo and
managed to make his voice more resolute. If we increased our
research expenditure tenfold . . . and were fortunate . . . we
might produce some usable crystals twenty years from now. But
there is no guarantee that we will ever succeed. There is only one
sane and logical course for the country as a whole to follow and
that is to ban the felling of brakka entirely for the next twenty or
thirty years. In that way. . . .
I refuse to listen to any more of this! Leddravohr was on his
feet and stepping down from the dais. Did I say maiden? I was
wrongthis is an old woman! Raise your skirts and flee from this
place, old woman, and take your sticks and scraps with you.
Leddravohr strode to the easel and thrust the palm of his hand
against it, sending it clattering to the floor.
During the clamour which followed, Toller left his place and
walked forwards on stiffened legs to stand close to his brother.
On the dais the King was ordering Leddravohr back to his seat,
but his voice was almost lost amid angry cries from Chakkell and
in the general commotion in the hall. A court official was
hammering on the floor with his staff, but the only effect was to
increase the level of sound. Leddravohr looked straight at Toller
with white-flaring eyes, but appeared not to see him as he
wheeled round to face his father.
I act on your behalf, Majesty, he shouted in a voice which
brought a ringing silence to the hall. Your ears shall not be
defiled any further with the kind of spoutings we have just heard
from the so-called thinkers among us.
I am quite capable of making such decisions for myself,
Prad replied sternly. I would remind you that this is a meeting
of the high councilnot some brawling ground for your
muddied soldiery.
Leddravohr was unrepentant as he glanced contemptuously at
Lain. I hold the lowliest soldier in the service of Kolcorron in
greater esteem than this whey-faced old woman. His continued
defiance of the King intensified the silence under the glass dome,
and it was into that magnifying hush that Toller heard himself
drop his own challenge. It would have been a crime akin to
treason, and punishable by death, for one of his station to take
the initiative and challenge a member of the monarchy, but the
code permitted him to move indirectly within limits and seek to
provoke a response.
Old woman appears to be a favourite epithet of Prince
Leddravohrs, he said to Vorndal Sisstt, who was seated close
to him. Does that mean he is always very prudent in his choice
of opponents?
Sisstt gaped up at him and shrank away, white-faced, anxiously
dissociating himself as Leddravohr turned to find out who had
spoken. Seeing Leddravohr at close quarters for the first time,
Toller observed that his strong-jawed countenance was unlined,
possessed of a curious statuesque smoothness, almost as if the
muscles were nerveless and immobile. It was an inhuman face,
untroubled by the ordinary range of expression, with only the
eyes to signal what was going on behind the broad brow. In this
case Leddravohrs eyes showed that he was more incredulous
than angry as he scrutinised the younger man, taking in every
detail of his physique and dress.
Who are you? Leddravohr said at last. Or should I say,
what are you?
My name is Toller Maraquine, Princeand I take pride in
being a philosopher.
Leddravohr glanced up at his father and smiled, as if to
demonstrate that when he saw it as his filial duty he could endure
extreme provocation. Toller did not like the smile, which was
accomplished in an instant, effortless as the twitching back of a
drape, affecting no other part of his face.
Well, Toller Maraquine, Leddravohr said, it is very
fortunate that personal weapons are never worn in my fathers
household.
Leave it at that, Toller urged himself. Youve made your point
andagainst all the oddsyoure getting away with it.
Fortunate? he said pleasantly. For whom?
Leddravohrs smile did not waver, but his eyes became
opaque, like polished brown pebbles. He took one step forward
and Toller readied himself for the shock of physical combat, but
in that moment the glass axis of the confrontation was snapped
by pressure from an unexpected direction.
Majesty, Lord Glo called out, lurching to his feet, looking
ghastly but speaking in surprisingly fluent and resonant tones. I
beg youfor the sake of our beloved Kolcorronto listen to
the proposal of which I spoke earlier. Please do not let my
brief indisposition stand in the way of your hearing of a scheme
whose implications go far beyond the present and near future,
and in the long run will concern the very existence of our great
nation.
Hold still, Glo. King Prad also rose to his feet and pointed
at Leddravohr with the index fingers of both hands, triangulating
on him with all the force of his authority. Leddravohr, you will
now resume your seat.
Leddravohr eyed the King for a few seconds, his face
impassive, then he turned away from Toller and walked slowly to
the dais. Toller was startled as he felt his brother grip his arm.
What are you trying to do? Lain whispered, his frightened
gaze hunting over Tollers face. Leddravohr has killed people
for less.
Toller shrugged his arm free. Im still alive.
And you had no right to step in like that.
I apologise for the insult, Toller said. I didnt think one
more would make any difference.
You know what I think of your childish . . . . Lain broke off
as Lord Glo came to stand close beside him.
The boy cant help being impetuousI was the same at his
age, Glo said. The brilliance from above showed that every
pore on his forehead was separately domed with sweat. Beneath
the ample folds of his robe his chest swelled and contracted with
disturbing rapidity, pumping out the smell of wine.
My lord, I think you should sit down and compose yourself,
Lain said quietly. There is no need for you to be subjected to
any more of . . . .
No! Youre the one who must sit down. Glo indicated two
nearby seats and waited until Lain and Toller had sunk into
them. Youre a good man, Lain, but it was very wrong of me to
burden you with a task for which you are constitutionally . . .
hmm . . . unsuited. This is a time for boldness. Boldness of
vision. That is what earned us the respect of the ancient kings.
Toller, rendered morbidly sensitive to Leddravohrs every
movement, noticed that on the dais the prince was concluding a
whispered conversation with his father. Both men sat down, and
Leddravohr immediately turned his brooding gaze in Tollers
direction. At a barely perceptible nod from the King an official
pounded the floor with his staff to quell the low-key murmurings
throughout the hall.
Lord Glo! Prads voice was now ominously calm. I apologise
for the discourtesy shown to members of your delegation,
but I also add that the councils time should not be wasted on
frivolous suggestions. Now, if I grant you permission to lay
before us the essentials of your grand scheme, will you undertake
to do so quickly and succinctly, without adding to my
tribulations on a day which has already seen too many?
Gladly!
Then proceed.
I am about to do so, Majesty. Glo half turned to look at
Lain, gave him a prolonged wink and began to whisper. Remember
what you said about my flying higher and seeing
farther? Youre going to have cause to reflect on those words, my
boy. Your graphs were telling a story that even you didnt
understand, but I. . . .
Lord Glo, Prad said, I am waiting.
Glo gave him an elaborate bow, complete with the hand
flourishes appropriate to the use of the high tongue. Majesty,
the philosopher has many duties, many responsibilities. Not only
must his mind encompass the past and the present, it must
illuminate the multiple pathways of the future. The darker and
more . . . hmm . . . hazardous those pathways may be, the
higher. . . .
Get on with it, Glo!
Very well, Majesty. My analysis of the situation in which
Kolcorron finds itself today shows that the difficulties of obtaining
brakka and power crystals are going to increase until . . .
hmm . . . only the most vigorous and far-sighted measures will
avert national disaster. Glos voice shook with fervour.
It is my considered opinion that, as the problems which beset
us grow and multiply, we must expand our capabilities accordingly.
If we are to maintain our premier position on Land we
must turn our eyesnot towards the petty nations on our
borders, with their meagre resourcesbut towards the sky!
The entire planet of Overland hangs above us, waiting, like a
luscious fruit ready for the picking. It is within our powers to
develop the means to go there and to. . . . The rest of Glos
sentence was drowned in a swelling tide of laughter.
Toller, whose gaze had been locked with Leddravohrs,
turned his head as he heard angry shouts from his right. He
saw that, beyond Tunsfos medical delegation, Lord Prelate
Balountar had risen to his feet and was pointing at Glo in
accusation, his small mouth distorted and dragged to one side
with intensity of emotion.
Borreat Hargeth leaned over from the row behind Toller and
gripped Lains shoulder. Make the old fool sit down, he urged
in a scandalised whisper. Did you know he was going to do
this?
Of course not! Lains narrow face was haggard. And how
can I stop him?
Youd better do something before were all made to look like
idiots.
. . . long been known that Land and Overland share a
common atmosphere, Glo was declaiming, seemingly oblivious
to the commotion he had caused. The Greenmount archives
contain detailed drawings for hot air balloons capable of
ascending to. . .
In the name of the Church I command you to cease this
blasphemy, Lord Prelate Balountar shouted, leaving his place
to advance on Glo, head thrust forward and tilting from side to
side like that of a wading bird. Toller, who was irreligious by
instinct, deduced from the violence of Balountars reaction that
the churchman was a strict Alternationist. Unlike many senior
clerics, who paid lip service to their creed in order to collect large
stipends, Balountar really did believe that after death the spirit
migrated to Overland, was reincarnated as a newborn infant and
eventually returned to Land in the same way, part of a
neverending cycle of existence.
Glo made a dismissive gesture in Balountars direction. The
main difficulty lies with the region of neutral . . . hmm . . .
gravity at the midpoint of the flight where, of course, the density
differential between hot and cold air can have no effect. That
problem can be solved by fitting each craft with reaction tubes
which. . . .
Glo was abruptly silenced when Balountar closed the distance
between them in a sudden rush, black vestments flapping, and
clamped a hand over Glos mouth. Toller, who had not expected
the cleric to use force, sprang from his chair. He grabbed both of
Balountars bony wrists and brought his arms down to his sides.
Glo clutched at his own throat, gagging. Balountar tried to break
free, but Toller lifted him as easily as he would have moved a
straw dummy and set him down several paces away, becoming
aware as he did so that the King had again risen to his feet. The
laughter in the hall died away to be replaced by a taut silence.
You! Balountars mouth worked spasmodically as he glared
up at Toller. You touched me!
I was acting in defence of my master, Toller said, realising
that his reflex action had been a major breach of protocol. He
heard a muffled retching sound and turned to see that Glo was
being sick with both hands cupped over his mouth. Black
wine was gouting through his fingers, disfiguring his robe and
spattering on the floor.
The King spoke loudly and clearly, each word like the snapping
of a blade. Lord Glo, I dont know which I find more
offensivethe contents of your stomach or the contents of your
mind. You and your party will leave my presence immediately,
and I warn you here and now thatas soon as more pressing
matters have been dealt withI am going to think long and hard
about your future.
Glo uncovered his mouth and tried to speak, the brown pegs
of his teeth working up and down, but was able to produce
nothing more than clicking sounds in his throat.
Remove him from my sight, Prad said, turning his hard eyes
on the Lord Prelate. As for you, Balountar, you are to be
rebuked for mounting a physical attack on one of my ministers,
no matter how great the provocation. For that reason, you have
no redress against the young man who restrained you, though he
does appear somewhat lacking in discretion. You will return to
your place and remain there without speaking until the Lord
Philosopher and his cortege of buffoons have withdrawn.
The King sat down and stared straight ahead while Lain and
Borreat Hargeth closed upon Glo and led him away towards the
halls main entrance. Toller walked around Vorndal Sisstt, who
had knelt to wipe the floor with the hem of his own robe, and
helped Lains two assistants to gather up the fallen easel and
charts. As he stood up with the easel under his arm it occurred to
him that Prince Leddravohr must have received an unusally
powerful reprimand to induce him to remain so quiet. He
glanced towards the dais and saw that Leddravohr, lounging in
his throne, was staring at him with an intent unwavering gaze.
Toller, oppressed by collective shame, looked elsewhere
immediately, but not before he had seen Leddravohrs smile twitch
into existence.
What are you waiting for? Sisstt mumbled. Get that stuff
out of here before the King decides to have us flayed.
The walk through the corridors and high chambers of the
palace seemed twice as long as before. Even when Glo had
recovered sufficiently to shake off helping hands, Toller felt that
news of the philosophers disgrace had magically flown ahead of
them and was being discussed by every low-voiced group they
passed. From the start he had felt that Lord Glo was going to be
unable to function well at the meeting, but he had not anticipated
being drawn into a debacle of such magnitude. King Prad
was famed for the informality and tolerance with which he
conducted royal business, but Glo had managed to transgress to
such an extent that the future of the entire order had been called
into question. And furthermore, Tollers embryonic plan to
enter the army by someday finding favour with Leddravohr was
no longer tenablethe military prince had a reputation for
never forgetting, never forgiving.
On reaching the principal courtyard Glo thrust out his stomach
and marched jauntily to his phaeton. He paused beside it,
turned to face the rest of the group and said, Well, that didnt
go too badly, did it? I think I can truthfully say that I planted a
seed in the Kings . . . hmm . . . mind. What do you say?
Lain, Hargeth and Duthoon exchanged stricken glances, but
Sisstt spoke up at once. Youre absolutely right, my lord.
Glo nodded approval at him. Thats the only way to advance a radical
new idea, you know. Plant a seed. Let it . . . hmm . . . germinate.
Toller turned away, suddenly in fresh danger of laughing
aloud in spite of all that had happened to him, and carried the
easel to his tethered bluehorn. He strapped the wooden
framework across the beasts haunches, retrieved the rolled
charts from Quate and Locranan, and prepared to depart. The
sun was little more than halfway between the eastern rim of
Overlandthe ordeal by humiliation had been mercifully brief
and there was time for him to claim a late breakfast as the first
step in salvaging the rest of the day. He had placed one foot in
the stirrup when his brother appeared at his side.
What is it that afflicts you? Lain said. Your behaviour in
the palace was appallingeven by your own standards.
Toller was taken aback. My behaviour!
Yes! Within the space of minutes you made enemies of two of
the most dangerous men in the empire. How do you do it?
Its very simple, Toller said stonily. I comport myself as a
man.
Lain sighed in exasperation. Ill speak to you further when
we get back to Greenmount.
No doubt. Toller mounted the bluehorn and urged it forward,
not waiting for the coach. On the ride back to the Square
House his annoyance with Lain gradually faded as he considered
his brothers unenviable position. Lord Philosopher Glo was
bringing the order in disrepute, but as a royal he could only be
deposed by the King. Attempting to undermine him would be
treated as sedition, and in any case Lain had too much personal
loyalty to Glo even to criticise him in private. When it became
common knowledge that Glo had proposed trying to send ships
to Overland all those connected with him would become objects
of derisionand Lain would suffer everything in silence,
retreating further into his books and graphs while the philosophers
tenure at Greenmount grew steadily less secure.
By the time he had reached the multi-gabled house Tollers
mind was tiring of abstracts and becoming preoccupied with the
fact that he was hungry. Not only had he missed breakfast, he
had eaten virtually nothing on the previous day, and now there
was a raging emptiness in his stomach. He tethered the bluehorn
in the precinct and, without bothering to unload it, walked
quickly into the house with the intention of going straight to the
kitchen.
For the second time that morning he found himself unexpectedly
in the presence of Gesalla, who was crossing the
entrance hall towards the west salon. She turned to him, dazzled
by the light from the archway, and smiled. The smile lasted only
a moment, as long as it took for her to identify him against the
glare, but its effect on Toller was odd. He seemed to see Gesalla
for the first time, as a goddess figure with sun-bright eyes, and in
the instant he felt an inexplicable and poignant sense of waste,
not of material possessions but of all the potential of life itself.
The sensation faded as quickly as it had come, but it left him
feeling sad and strangely chastened.
Oh, its you, Gesalla said in a cold voice. I thought you
were Lain.
Toller smiled, wondering if he could begin a new and more
constructive relationship with Gesalla. A trick of the light.
Why are you back so early?
Ah . . . the meeting didnt go as planned. There was some
trouble. Lain will tell you all about ithes on his way home
now.
Gesalla tilted her head and moved until she had the advantage
of the light. Why cant you tell me? Was it something to do with
you?
With me?
Yes. I advised Lain not to let you go anywhere near the
palace.
Well, perhaps hes getting as sick as I am of you and your
endless torrents of advice. Toller tried to stop speaking, but the
word fever was upon him. Perhaps he has begun to regret
marrying a withered twig instead of a real woman.
Thank youIll pass your comments on to Lain in full.
Gesallas lips quirked, showing thatfar from being wounded
she was pleased at having invoked the kind of intemperate
response which could result in Toller being banished from the
Square House. Do I take it that your concept of a real woman is
embodied in the whore who is waiting in your bed at this
moment?
You can take. . . . Toller scowled, trying to conceal the
fact that he had completely forgotten about his companion
of the night. You should guard your tongue! Felise is no
whore.
Gesallas eyes sparkled. Her name is Fera.
Felise or Ferashe isnt a whore.
I wont bandy definitions with you, Gesalla said, her tones
now light, cool and infuriating. The cook told me you left
instructions for your . . . guest to be provided with all the food
she wished. And if the amounts she has already consumed this
foreday are any yardstick, you should think yourself fortunate
that you dont have to support her in marriage.
But I do! Toller saw his chance to deliver the verbal thrust
and took it on the reflex, with heady disregard for the consequences.
Ive been trying to tell you that I gave Fera gradewife
status before I left here this morning. Im sure you will soon learn
to enjoy her company about the house, and then we can all be
friends together. Now, if you will excuse me. . . .
He smiled, savouring the shock and incredulity on Gesallas
face, then turned and sauntered towards the main stair, taking
care to hide his own numb bemusement over what a few angry
seconds could do to the course of his life. The last thing he
wanted was the responsibility of a wife, even of the fourth grade,
and he could only hope that Fera would refuse the offer he had
committed himself to making.
Chapter 5
He walked around the room several times, his step growing
firmer as the stiffness and pain gradually departed from his right
leg. It was almost thirty years since the aftday, during the first
Sorka campaign, when a heavy Merrillian throwing spear had
smashed his thigh bone just above the knee. The injury had
troubled him at intervals ever since, and the periods when he was
free of discomfort were becoming shorter and quite infrequent.
As soon as he was satisfied with the legs performance he went
into the adjoining toilet chamber and threw the lever of
enamelled brakka which was set in one wall. The water which
sprayed down on him from the perforated ceiling was hota
reminder that he was not in his own spartan quarters in
Trompha. Putting aside irrational feelings of guilt, he took
maximum enjoyment from the warmth as it penetrated and
soothed his muscles.
After drying himself he paused at a wall-mounted mirror,
which was made of two layers of clear glass with highly different
refractive indices, and took stock of his image. Although age had
had its inevitable effect on the once-powerful body, the austere
discipline of his way of life had prevented fatty degeneration. His
long, thoughtful face had become deeply lined, but the greyness
which had entered his cropped hair scarcely showed against its
fair coloration, and his overall appearance was one of durable
health and fitness.
Still serviceable, he thought. But Ill do only one more year.
The army has taken too much from me already.
While he was donning his informal blues he turned his
thoughts to the day ahead. It was the twelfth birthday of his
grandson, Hallie, andas part of the ritual which proved he was
ready to enter military academythe boy was due to go alone
against ptertha. The occasion was an important one, and
Dalacott vividly remembered the pride he had felt on watching
his own son, Oderan, pass the same test. Oderans subsequent
army career had been cut short by his death at the age of
thirty-threethe result of an airship crash in Yalrofacand it
was Dalacotts painful duty to stand in for him during the days
celebrations. He finished dressing, left the bedroom and went
downstairs to the dining room where, in spite of the earliness of
the hour, he found Conna Dalacott seated at the round table.
She was a tall, open-faced woman whose form was developing
the solidity of early middle age.
Good foreday, Conna, he said, noting that she was alone.
Is young Hallie still asleep?
On his twelfth? She nodded towards the walled garden, part
of which was visible through the floor-to-ceiling window. Hes
out there somewhere, practising. He wouldnt even look at his
breakfast.
Its a big day for him. For us all.
Yes. Something in the timbre of Connas voice told
Dalacott that she was under a strain. A wonderful day.
I know its distressing for you, he said gently, but Oderan
would have wanted us to make the most of it, for Hallies sake.
Conna gave him a calm smile. Do you still take nothing but
porridge for breakfast? Cant I tempt you with some whitefish?
Sausage? A forcemeat cake?
Ive lived too long on line soldiers rations, he protested,
tacitly agreeing to restrict himself to small-talk. Conna had
maintained the villa and conducted her life ably enough without
his assistance in the ten years since Oderans death, and it
would be presumptuous of him to offer her any advice at this
juncture.
Very well, she said, beginning to serve him from one of the
covered dishes on the table, but therell be no soldiers rations
for you at the littlenight feast.
Agreed! While Dalacott was eating the lightly salted
porridge he exchanged pleasantries with his daughter-in-law,
but the seething of his memories continued unabated andas
had been happening more often of latethoughts of the son he
had lost evoked others of the son he had never claimed. Looking
back over his life he had, once again, to ponder the ways in which
the major turning points were frequently unrecognisable as
such, in which the inconsequential could lead to the momentous.
Had he not been caught off his guard during the course of a
minor skirmish in Yalrofac all those years ago he would not have
received the serious wound in his leg. The injury had led to a long
convalescence in the quietness of Redant province; and it was
there, while walking by the Bes-Undar river, he had chanced
to find the strangest natural object he had ever seen, the one he
still carried everywhere he went. The object had been in his
possession for about a year when, on a rare visit to the capital, he
had impulsively taken it to the science quarter on Greenmount
to find out if its strange properties could be explained.
In the event, he had learned nothing about the object and a
great deal about himself.
As a dedicated career soldier he had taken on a solewife
almost as a duty to the state, to provide him with an heir and to
minister to his needs between campaigns. His relationship with
Toriane had been pleasant, even and warm; and he had regarded
it as fulfillinguntil the day he had ridden into the precinct of a
square house on Greenmount and had seen Aytha Maraquine.
His meeting with the slender young matron had been a blending
of green and purple, producing a violent explosion of passion
and ecstasy and, ultimately, an intensity of pain he had not
believed possible. . . .
The carriage is back, Grandad, Hallie cried, tapping at the
long window. Were ready to go to the hill.
Im coming. Dalacott waved to the fair-haired boy who
was dancing with excitement on the patio. Hallie was tall and
sturdy, well able to handle the full-size ptertha sticks which were
clattering on his belt.
You havent finished your porridge, Conna said as he stood
up, her matter-of-fact tone not quite concealing the underlying
emotion.
You know, there is absolutely no need for you to worry, he
said. A ptertha drifting over open ground in clear daylight
poses no threat to anybody. Dealing with it is childs play, and in
any case Ill be staying close to Hallie at all times.
Thank you. Conna remained seated, staring down at her
untouched food, until Dalacott had left the room.
He went out to the garden whichas was standard in rural
areashad high walls surmounted by ptertha screens which
could be closed together overhead at night and in foggy conditions.
Hallie came running to him, recreating the image of his
father at the same age, and took his hand. They walked out to the
carriage, in which waited three men, local friends of the family,
who were required as witnesses to the boys coming-of-age.
Dalacott, who had renewed their acquaintanceship on the previous
evening, exchanged greetings with them as he and Hallie
took their places on the padded benches inside the big coach.
The driver cracked his whip over his team of four bluehorns and
the vehicle moved off.
Oho! Have we a seasoned campaigner here? said Gehate, a
retired merchant, leaning forward to tap a Y-shaped ptertha
stick he had noticed among the normal Kolcorronian cruciforms
in Hallies armoury.
Its Ballinnian, Hallie said proudly, stroking the polished
and highly decorated wood of the weapon, which Dalacott had
given him a year earlier. It flies farther than the others.
Effective at thirty yards. The Gethans use them as well. The
Gethans and the Cissorians.
Dalacott returned the indulgent smiles the boys show of
knowledge elicited from the other men. Throwing sticks of one
form or another had been in use since ancient times by almost
every nation on Land as a defence against ptertha, and had been
chosen for their effectiveness. The enigmatic globes burst as
easily as soap bubbles once they got to within their killing radius
of a man, but before that they showed a surprising degree of
resilience. A bullet, an arrow or even a spear could pass through
a ptertha without causing it any harmthe globe would only
quiver momentarily as it repaired the punctures in its transparent
skin. It took a rotating, flailing missile to disrupt a pterthas
structure and disperse its toxic dust into the air.
The bolas made a good ptertha killer, but it was hard to master
and had the disadvantage of being too heavy to be carried in
quantity, whereas a multi-bladed throwing stick was flat,
comparatively light and easily portable. It was a source of wonder to
Dalacott that even the most primitive tribesmen had learned that
giving each blade one rounded edge and one sharp edge produced
a weapon which sustained itself in the air like a bird, flying
much farther than an ordinary projectile. No doubt it was that
seemingly magical property which induced people like the
Ballinnians to lavish such care on the carving and embellishment
of their ptertha sticks. By contrast, the pragmatic Kolcorronians
favoured a plain expendable weapon of the four-bladed
pattern which was suitable for mass production because it was
made of two straight sections glued together at the centre.
The carriage gradually left the grain fields and orchards of
Klinterden behind and began climbing the foothills of Mount
Pharote. Eventually it reached a place where the road petered
out on a grassy table, beyond which the ground ascended steeply
into mists which had not yet been boiled off by the sun.
Here we are, Gehate said jovially to Hallie as the vehicle
creaked to a halt. I cant wait to see what sport that fancy stick
of yours will produce. Thirty yards, you say?
Thessaro, a florid-faced banker, frowned and shook his head.
Dont egg the boy into showing off. It isnt good to throw too
soon.
I think youll find he knows what to do, Dalacott said as he
got out of the carriage with Hallie and looked around. The sky
was a dome of pearly brilliance shading off into pale blue
overhead. No stars could be seen and even the great disk of
Overland, only part of which was visible, appeared pale and
insubstantial. Dalacott had travelled to the south of Kail
province to visit his sons family, and in these latitudes Overland
was noticeably displaced to the north. The climate was more
temperate than that of equatorial Kolcorron, a factor whichcombined
with a much shorter littlenightmade the region
one of the best food producers in the empire.
Plenty of ptertha, Gehate said, pointing upwards to where
purple motes could be seen drifting high in the air currents
rolling down from the mountain.
Theres always plenty of ptertha these days, commented
Ondobirtre, the third witness. Ill swear they are on the
increaseno matter what anybody says to the contrary. I heard
that several of them even penetrated the centre of Ro-Baccanta
a few days ago.
Gehate shook his head impatiently. They dont go into
cities.
Im only telling what I heard.
Youre too credulous, my friend. You listen to too many tall
stories.
This is no time for bickering, Thessaro put in. This is an
important occasion. He opened the linen sack he was carrying
and began counting out six ptertha sticks each to Dalacott and
the other men.
You wont need those, Grandad, Hallie said, looking
offended. Im not going to miss.
I know that, Hallie, but its the custom. Besides, some of the
rest of us might be in need of a little practice. Dalacott put an
arm around the boys shoulders and walked with him to the
mouth of an alley created by two high nets. They were strung on
parallel lines of poles which crossed the table and went up the
slope beyond to disappear into the mist ceiling. The system was a
traditional one which served to guide ptertha down from the
mountain in small numbers. It would have been easy for the
globes to escape by floating upwards, but a few always followed
such an alley to its lower end as though they were sentient
creatures motivated by curiosity. Quirks of behaviour like that
were the main reason for the belief, held by many, that the
globes possessed some degree of intelligence, although Dalacott
had always remained unconvinced in view of their complete
lack of internal structure.
You can leave me now, Grandad, Hallie said. Im ready.
Very well, young man. Dalacott moved back a dozen paces
to stand line abreast with the other men. It was the first time he
had ever thought of his grandson as being anything more than a
boy, but Hallie was entering his trial with courage and dignity,
and would never again be quite the same person as the child
who had played in the garden only that morning. It came to
Dalacott that at breakfast he had given Conna the wrong assurancesshe
had known only too well that her child was never
coming back to her. The insight was something Dalacott would
have to note in his diary at nightfall. Soldiers wives were
required to undergo their own trials, and the adversary was
time itself.
I knew we wouldnt have to wait very long, Ondobirtre
whispered.
Dalacott transferred his attention from his grandson to the
wall of mist at the far end of the netted enclosure. In spite of his
confidence in Hallie, he felt a spasm of alarm as he saw that two
ptertha had appeared simultaneously. The livid globes, each a
full two yards in diameter, came drifting low and weaving,
becoming harder to see clearly as they moved down the slope to
where the background was grass. Hallie, who had a four-bladed
stick in his hand, altered his stance slightly and made ready to
throw.
Not yet, Dalacott commanded in his thoughts, knowing that
the presence of a second ptertha would increase the temptation
to try destroying one at maximum range. The dust released by a
bursting ptertha lost its toxicity almost as soon as it was exposed
to air, so the minium safe range for a kill could be as little as six
paces, depending oft wind conditions. At that distance it was
virtually impossible to miss, which meant that the ptertha was no
match at all for a man with a cool head, but Dalacott had seen
novices suddenly lose their judgment and coordination. For
some there was a strange mesmeric and unmanning quality
about the trembling spheres, especially when on nearing their
prey they ceased their random drifting and closed in with silent,
deadly purpose.
The two floating towards Hallie were now less than thirty
paces away from him, sailing just above the grass, blindly
questing from one net to the other. Hallie brought his right arm
back, making tentative wrist movements, but refrained from
throwing. Watching the solitary, straight-backed figure holding
his ground as the ptertha drew ever closer, Dalacott experienced
a mixture of pride, love and pure fear. He held one of his
own sticks at the ready and prepared to dart forward. Hallie
moved closer to the net on his left, still withholding his first
strike.
Do you see what the little devil is up to? Gehate breathed.
I do believe hes. . . .
At that moment the aimless meanderings of the ptertha
brought them together, one behind the other, and Hallie made
his throw. The blades of the cruciform weapon blurred as it flew
straight and true, and an instant later the purple globes no longer
existed.
Hallie became a boy again, just long enough to make one
exultant leap into the air, then he resumed his watchful stance as
a third ptertha emerged from the mist. He undipped another
stick from his belt, and Dalacott saw that it was the Y-shaped
Ballinnian weapon.
Gehate nudged Dalacott. The first throw was for you, but I
think this one is going to be for my benefitto teach me to keep
my mouth shut.
Hallie allowed the globe to get no closer than thirty paces
before he made his second throw. The weapon flitted along the
alley like a brilliantly coloured bird, almost without sinking, and
was just beginning to lose stability when it sliced into the ptertha
and annihilated it. Hallie was grinning as he turned to the
watching men and gave them an elaborate bow. He had claimed
the necessary three kills and was now officially entering the adult
phase of his life.
The boy had some luck that time, but he deserved it,
Gehate said ungrudgingly. Oderan should have been here.
Yes. Dalacott, racked by bitter-sweet emotions, contented
himself with the monosyllabic response, and was relieved when
the others moved awayGehate and Thessaro to embrace
Hallie, Ondobirtre to fetch the ritual flask of brandy from the
carriage. The group of six, including the hired driver, came
together again when Ondobirtre distributed tiny hemispherical
glasses whose rims had been fashioned unevenly to represent
vanquished ptertha. Dalacott kept an eye on his grandson while
he had his first sip of ardent spirits, and was amused when the
boy, who had just overcome a mortal enemy, pulled a grotesque
face.
I trust, Ondobirtre said as he refilled the adults
glasses, that all present have noticed the unusual feature of
this mornings outing?
Gehate snorted. YesIm glad you didnt attack the brandy
before the rest of us got near it.
Thats not it, Ondobirtre said gravely, refusing to be
goaded. Everybody thinks Im an idiot, but in all the years
weve been watching this kind of thing has anybody seen a day
when three globes showed up before the bluehorns had stopped
farting after the climb? Im telling you, my shortsighted friends,
that the ptertha are on the increase. In fact, unless Im getting
winedreams, we have a couple more visitors.
The company turned to look at the space between the nets and
saw that two more ptertha had drifted down from the obscurity
of the cloud ceiling and were nuzzling their way along the corded
barriers.
Theyre mine, Gehate called as he ran forward. He halted,
steadied himself and threw two sticks in quick succession,
destroying both the globes with ease. Their dust briefly smudged
the air.
There you are! Gehate cried. You dont need to be built
like a soldier to be able to defend yourself. I can still teach you a
thing or two, young Hallie.
Hallie handed his glass back to Ondobirtre and ran to join
Gehate, eager to compete with him. After the second brandy
Dalacott and Thessaro also went forward and they made a
sporting contest of the destruction of every globe which
appeared, only giving up when the mist rose clear of the top end
of the alley and the ptertha retreated with it to higher altitudes.
Dalacott was impressed by the fact that almost forty had come
down the alley in the space of an hour, considerably more than
he normally would have expected. While the others were retrieving
their sticks in preparation for leaving, he commented on the
matter to Ondobirtre.
Its what Ive been saying all along, said Ondobirtre,
who had been steadily drinking brandy all the while and was
growing pale and morose. But everybody thinks Im an
idiot.
By the time the carriage had completed the journey back to
Klinterden the sun was nearing the eastern rim of Overland, and
the littlenight celebration in honour of Hallie was about to begin.
The vehicles and animals belonging to the guests were
gathered in the villas forecourt, and a number of children were
at play in the walled garden. Hallie, first to jump down from the
carriage, sprinted into the house to find his mother. Dalacott
followed him at a more sedate pace, the pain in his leg having
returned during the long spell in the carriage. He had little
enthusiasm for large parties and was not looking forward to the
remainder of the day, but it would have been discourteous of him
not to stay the night. It was arranged that a military airship would
pick him up on the following day for the flight back to the Fifth
Armys headquarters in Trompha.
Conna greeted him with a warm embrace as he entered the
villa. Thank you for taking care of Hallie, she said. Was he as
superb as he claims?
Absolutely! He made a splendid showing. Dalacott was
pleased to see that Conna was now looking cheerful and self-possessed.
He made Gehate sit up and take notice, I can tell
you.
Im glad. Now, remember what you promised me at breakfast.
I want to see you eatingnot just picking at your food.
The fresh air and exercise have made me ravenous,
Dalacott lied. He left Conna as she was welcoming the three
witnesses and went into the central part of the house, which was
thronged with men and women who were conversing animatedly
in small groups. Grateful that nobody appeared to have noticed
his arrival, he quietly took a glass of fruit juice from the table set
out for the children and went to stand by a window. From the
vantage point he could see quite a long way to the west, over
vistas of agricultural land which at the limits of vision shaded off
into a low range of blue-green hills. The strip fields clearly
showed progressions of six colours, from the pale green of the
freshly planted to the deep yellow of mature crops ready for
harvesting.
As he was watching, the hills and most distant fields blinked
with prismatic colour and abruptly dimmed. The penumbral
band of Overlands shadow was racing across the landscape at
orbital speed, closely followed by the blackness of the umbra
itself. It took only a fraction of a minute for the rushing wall of
darkness to reach and envelop the housethen littlenight had
begun. It was a phenomenon Dalacott had never tired of watching.
As his eyes adjusted to the new conditions the sky seemed to
blossom with stars, hazy spirals and comets, and he found
himself wondering if there could beas some claimedother
inhabited worlds circling far-off suns. In the old days the army
had absorbed too much of his mental energy for him to think
deeply on such matters, but of late he had found a spare comfort
in the notion that there might be an infinity of worlds, and that on
one of them there might be another Kolcorron identical to the
one he knew in every respect save one. Was it possible that there
was another Land on which his lost loved ones were still alive?
The evocative smell of freshly-lit oil lanterns and candles took
his thoughts back to the few treasured nights he had spent with
Aytha Maraquine. During the heady hours of passion Dalacott
had known with total certainty that they would overcome all
difficulties, surmount all the obstacles that lay in the way of their
eventual marriage. Aytha, who had solewife status, would have
had to endure the twin disgraces of divorcing a sickly husband
and of marrying across the greatest of all social divisions, the one
which separated the military from all other classes. He had been
faced with similar impediments, with an added problem in that
by divorcing Torianedaughter of a military governorhe
would have been placing his own career in jeopardy.
None of that had mattered to Dalacott in his fevered monomania.
Then had come the Padalian campaign, which should
have been brief but which in the event had entailed his being
separated from Aytha for almost a year. Next had come the news
that she had died in giving birth to a male child. Dalacotts first
tortured impulse had been to claim the boy as his own, and in
that way keep faith with Aytha, but the cool voices of logic and
self-interest had intervened. What was the point in posthumously
smirching Aythas good name and at the same time prejudicing
his career and bringing unhappiness to his family? It
would not even benefit the boy, Toller, who would be best left
to grow up in the comfortable circumstances of his maternal kith
and kin.
In the end Dalacott had committed himself to the course of
rationality, not even trying to see his son, and the years had
slipped by and his abilities had brought him the deserved rank of
general. Now, at this late stage of his life, the entire episode had
many of the qualities of a dream and might have lost its power to
engender painexcept that other questions and doubts had
begun to trouble his hours of solitude. All his protestations
notwithstanding, had he really intended to marry Aytha? Had he
not, in some buried level of his consciousness, been relieved
when her death had made it unnecessary for him to make a
decision one way or the other? In short, was heGeneral Risdel
Dalacottthe man he had always believed himself to be? Or
was he a . . . ?
There you are! Conna said, approaching him with a glass of
wheat wine which she placed firmly in his free hand while
depriving him of the fruit juice. Youll simply have to mingle
with the guests, you know. Otherwise it will look as though you
consider yourself too famous and important to acknowledge my
friends.
Im sorry. He gave her a wry smile. The older I get the
more I look into the past.
Were you thinking about Oderan?
I was thinking about many things. Dalacott sipped his wine
and went with his daughter-in-law to make Smalltalk with a
succession of men and women. He noticed that very few of them
had army backgrounds, possibly an indication of Connas true
feelings about the organisation which had taken her husband and
was now turning its attention to her only child. The strain of
manufacturing conversation with virtual strangers was considerable,
and it was almost with relief that he heard the summons to
go to the table. It was his duty now to make a short formal speech
about his grandsons coming-of-age; then he would be free to
fade into the background to the best of his ability. He walked
around the table to the single high-backed chair which had been
decked with blue spearflowers in Hallies honour and realised he
had not seen the boy for some time.
Wheres our hero? a man called out. Bring on the hero!
He must have gone to his room, Conna said. Ill fetch
him.
She smiled apologetically and slipped away from the
company. There was delay of perhaps a minute before she
reappeared in the doorway, and when she did so her face was
strangely passive, frozen. She pointed at Dalacott and turned
away again without speaking. He went after her, telling himself
that the icy sensation in his stomach meant nothing, and walked
along the corridor to Hallies bedroom. The boy was lying on his
back on his narrow couch. His face was flushed and gleaming
with sweat, and his limbs were making small uncoordinated
movements.
It cant be, Dalacott thought, appalled, as he went to the
couch. He looked down at Hallie, saw the terror in his eyes, and
knew at once that the twitching of his arms and legs represented
strenuous attempts to move normally. Paralysis and fever! I
wont allow this, Dalacott shouted inwardly as he dropped to his
knees. It isnt permitted!
He placed his hand on Hallies slim body, just below the
ribcage, immediately found the telltale swelling of the spleen,
and a moan of pure grief escaped his lips.
You promised to look after him, Conna said in a lifeless
voice. Hes only a baby!
Dalacott stood up and gripped her shoulders. Is there a
doctor here?
Whats the use?
I know what this looks like, Conna, but at no time was Hallie
within twenty paces of a globe and there was no wind to speak
of. Listening to his own voice, a strangers voice, Dalacott tried
to be persuaded by the stated facts. Besides, it takes two days
for pterthacosis to develop. It simply cant happen like this.
Now, is there a doctor?
Visigann, she whispered, brimming eyes scanning his face
in search of hope. Ill get him. She turned and ran from the
bedroom.
Youre going to be all right, Hallie, Dalacott said as he knelt
again by the couch. He used the edge of a coverlet to dab
perspiration from the boys face and was dismayed to find that he
could actually feel heat radiating from the beaded skin. Hallie
gazed up at him mutely, and his lips quivered as he tried to smile.
Dalacott noticed that the Ballinnian ptertha stick was lying on
the couch. He picked it up and pressed it into Hallies hand,
closing the boys nerveless fingers around the polished wood,
then kissed him on the forehead. He prolonged the kiss, as
though trying to siphon the consuming pyrexia into his own
body, and only slowly became aware of two odd factsthat
Conna was taking too long to return with the doctor, and that a
woman was screaming in another part of the house.
Ill come back to you in just a moment, soldier, he said. He
stood up, tranced, made his way back to the dining room and saw
that the guests were gathered around a man who was lying on the
floor.
The man was Gehate:and from his fevered complexion and
the feeble pawing of his hands it was evident that he was in an
advanced stage of pterthacosis.
Hallie had died before the end of the littlenight of his coming
of age. Gehate and Ondobirtre had succumbed to the terrifying
new form of pterthacosis by the end of that day, and on the
following morning he had found Hallies mother dead of the
same cause in her room. That had been his first indication that
the disease was contagious, and the implications had still been
reverberating in his head when news had come of the fate of
those who had been present at the celebration.
Of some forty men, women and children who had been in the
villa, no fewer than thirty-twoincluding all the childrenhad
been swept away during the same night. And still the tide of
death had not expended its fell energies. The population of the
hamlet of Klinterden and surrounding district had been reduced
from approximately three-hundred to a mere sixty within three
days. At that point the invisible killer had appeared to lose its
virulence, and the burials had begun.
The airships gondola lurched and swayed a little as it was
freed from its constraints. Dalacott moved closer to a port hole
and, for what he knew would be the last time, looked down on
the familiar pattern of red-roofed dwellings, orchards and
striated fields of grain. Its placid appearance masked the
profound changes which had taken place, just as his own unaltered
physical aspect disguised the fact that in nine days he had
grown old.
The feelingthe drear apathy, the failure of optimismwas
new to him, but he had no difficulty in identifying it because, for
the first time ever, he could see cause to envy the dead.
PART II
The Proving Flight
Chapter 6
The Research Station did not look out of place in its surroundings,
being a collection of nondescript workshops, sheds and
shabby single-storey offices. Even the station chiefs office was
so grimy that the typical Kolcorronian diamond patterns of its
brickwork were almost totally obscured.
Toller Maraquine found the station a deeply depressing place
in which to work. Looking back to the time of his appointment,
he could see that he had been childishly naive in his visualisation
of a weapons research establishment. He had anticipated
perhaps a breezy sward with swordsmen busy testing new types
of blades, or archers meticulously assessing the performance of
laminated bows and novel patterns of arrowheads.
On arrival at the Quays it had taken him only a few hours to
learn that there was very little genuine research on weapons
being carried out under Borreat Hargeth. The name of the
section disguised the fact that most of its funds were spent on
trying to develop materials which could be substituted for
brakka in the manufacture of gears and other machine components.
Tollers work mainly consisted of mixing various fibres
and powders with various types of resin and using the composite
to cast various shapes of test specimens. He disliked the choking
smell of the resins and the repetitious nature of the task,
especially as his instincts told him the project was a waste of
time. None of the composite materials the station produced
compared well with brakka, the hardest and most durable
substance on the planetand if nature had been obliging
enough to supply an ideal material what was the point in
searching for another?
Apart from the occasional grumble to Hargeth, however,
Toller worked steadily and conscientiously, determined to prove
to his brother that he was a responsible member of the family.
His marriage to Fera also had something to do with his newfound
steadiness, which was an unexpected benefit from an arrangement
he had plunged into for the sole purpose of confounding his
brothers wife. He had offered Fera the fourth gradetemporary,
non-exclusive, terminable by the man at any timebut
she had had the nerve to hold out for third grade status,
which was binding on him for six years.
That had been more than fifty days ago, and Toller had hoped
that by this time Gesalla would have softened in her attitude to
both him and Fera, but if anything the triangular relationship
had deteriorated. Irritant factors were Feras monumental
appetite and her capacity for indolence, both of which were an
affront to the primly sedulous Gesalla, but Toller was unable to
chastise his wife for refusing to amend her ways. She was claiming
her right to be the person she had always been, regardless of
whom she displeased, just as he was claiming the right to reside
in the Maraquine family home. Gesalla was ever on the look-out
for a pretext on which to have him dismissed from the Square
House, and it was sheer stubbornness on his part which kept
him from finding accommodation elsewhere.
Toller was pondering on his domestic situation one foreday,
wondering how long the uneasy balance could be maintained,
when he saw Hargeth coming into the shed where he was
weighing out chopped glass fibres. Hargeth was a lean fidgety
man in his early fifties and everything about himnose, chin,
ears, elbows, shouldersseemed to be sharp-cornered. Today
he appeared more restless than usual.
Come with me, Toller, he said. We have need of those
muscles of yours.
Toller put his scoop aside. What do you want me to do?
Youre always complaining about not being able to work on
engines of warand now is your opportunity. Hargeth led the
way to a small portable crane which had been erected on a patch
of ground between two workshops. It was of conventional rafter
wood construction except that the gear wheels, which would
have been brakka in an ordinary crane, had been cast in a greyish
composite produced by the research station.
Lord Glo is arriving soon, Hargeth said. He wants to
demonstrate these gears to one of Prince Pouches financial
inspectors, and today we are going to have a preliminary test. I
want you to check the cables, grease the gears carefully and fill
the load basket with rocks.
You spoke of a war engine, Toller said. This is just a
crane.
Army engineers have to build fortifications and raise heavy
equipmentso this is a war engine. The Princes accountants
must be kept happy, otherwise we lose funding. Now go to
workGlo will be here within the hour.
Toller nodded and began preparing the crane. The sun was
only halfway to its daily occlusion by Overland, but there was no
wind to scoop the heat out of the low-lying river basin and the
temperature was climbing steadily. A nearby tannery was adding
its stenches to the already fume-laden air of the station. Toller
found himself longing for a pot of cool ale, but the Quays district
boasted of only one tavdrn and it had such a verminous aspect
that he would not consider sending an apprentice for a sample of
its wares.
This is a miserly reward for a life of virtue, he thought
disconsolately. At least at Haffanger the air was fit to breathe.
He had barely finished putting rocks into the cranes load
basket when there came the sounds of harness and hoofbeats.
Lord Glos jaunty red-and-orange phaeton rolled through the
stations gates and came to a halt outside Hargeths office,
looking incongruous amid the begrimed surroundings. Glo
stepped down from the vehicle and had a long discussion with his
driver before turning to greet Hargeth, who had ventured out to
meet him. The two men conversed quietly for a minute, then
came towards the crane.
Glo was holding a kerchief close to his nose, and it was obvious
from his heightened colouring and a certain stateliness of his gait
that he had already partaken generously of wine. Toller shook
his head in a kind of amused respect for the single-mindedness
with which the Lord Philosopher continued to render himself
unfit for office. He stopped smiling when he noticed that several
passing workers were whispering behind their hands. Why could
Glo not place a higher value on his own dignity?
There you are, my boy! Glo called out on seeing Toller.
Do you know that, more than ever, you remind me of myself as
a . . . hmm . . . young man? He nudged Hargeth. How is that
for a splendid figure of a man, Borreat? Thats how I used to
look.
Very good, my lord, Hargeth replied, noticeably unimpressed.
These wheels are the old Compound 18, but we have
tried low-temperature curing on them and the results are quite
encouraging, even though this crane is more-or-less a scale
model. Im sure its a step in the right direction.
Im sure youre right, but let me see the thing at . . . hmm . . .
work.
Of course. Hargeth nodded to Toller, who began putting
the crane through its paces. It was designed for operation by two
men, but he was able to hoist the load on his own without undue
effort, and directed by Hargeth he spent a few minutes rotating
the jib and demonstrating the machines load-placing accuracy.
He was careful to make the operation as smooth as possible, to
avoid feeding shocks into the gear teeth, and the display ended
with the cranes moving parts in apparently excellent condition.
The group of computational assistants and labourers who had
gathered to watch the proceedings began to drift away.
Toller was lowering the load to its original resting when,
without warning, the pawl with which he was controlling the
descent sheared through several teeth on the main ratchet in a
burst of staccato sound. The laden basket dropped a short
distance before the cable drum locked, and the cranewith
Toller still at the controlstilted dangerously on its base. It
was saved from toppling when some of the watching labourers
threw their weight on to the rising leg and brought it to the
ground.
My congratulations, Hargeth said scathingly as Toller
stepped clear of the creaking structure. How did you manage to
do that?
If only you could invent a material stronger than stale
porridge thered be no. . . . Toller broke off as he looked
beyond Hargeth and saw that Lord Glo had fallen to the ground.
He was lying with his face pressed against a ridge of dried clay,
seemingly unable to move. Fearful that Glo might have been
struck by a flying gear tooth, Toller ran and knelt beside him.
Glos pale blue eye turned in his direction, but still the rotund
body remained inert.
Im not drunk, Glo mumbled, speaking from one side of his
mouth. Get me away from here, my boyI think Im halfway
to being dead.
Im hungry, she announced as they reached the Plaza of the
Navigators, close to the centre of Ro-Atabri.
Of course you are, Toller said. Why, it must be almost an
hour since your second breakfast.
She dug an elbow into his ribs and gave him a meaningful
smile. Yoirwant me to keep my strength up, dont you?
Has it occurred to you that there might be more to life than
sex and food?
Yeswine. She shaded her eyes from the early foreday sun
and surveyed the nearest of the pastry vendors stalls which were
dotted along the squares perimeter. I think Ill have some
honeycake and perhaps some Kailian white to wash it down
with.
Still uttering token protests, Toller made the necessary purchases
and they sat on one of the benches which faced the statues
of illustrious seafarers of the empires past. The plaza was
bounded by a mix of public and commercial buildings, most of
which exhibitedin various shades of masonry and brickthe
traditional Kolcorronian pattern of interlocked diamonds. Trees
in contrasting stages of their maturation cycle and the colourful
dress of passers-by added to the sunlit chiaroscuro. A westerly
breeze was keeping the air pleasant and lively.
I have to admit, Toller said, sipping some cool light wine,
that this is much better than working for Hargeth. Ive never
understood why scientific research work always seems to involve
evil smells.
You poor delicate creature! Fera brushed a crumb from her chin.
If you want to know what a real stink is like you should try
working in the fish market.
No, thanksI prefer to stay where I am, Toller replied. It
was about twenty days since the sudden onset of Lord Glos
illness, but Toller was still appreciative of the resultant change in
his own circumstances and employment. Glo had been stricken
with a paralysis which affected the left side of his body and had
found himself in need of a personal attendant, preferably one
with an abundance of physical strength. When Toller had been
offered the position he had accepted at once, and had moved
with Fera to Glos spacious residence on the western slope of
Greenmount. The new arrangement, as well as providing a
welcome relief from Mardavan Quays, had resolved the difficult
situation in the Maraquine household, and Toller was making a
conscientious effort to be content. A restless gloominess
sometimes came upon him when he compared his menial existence to
the kind of life he would have preferred, but it was something he
always kept to himself. On the positive side, Glo had proved a
considerate employer and as soon as he had regained a measure
of his strength and mobility had made as few demands as possible
on Tollers time.
Lord Glo seemed busy this morning, Fera said. I could
hear that sunwriter of his clicking and clacking no matter where I
went.
Toller nodded. Hes been talking a great deal with Tunsfo
lately. I think hes worried about the reports from the
provinces.
There isnt really going to be a plague, is there, Toller? Fera
drew her shoulders forward in distaste, deepening the cleft in her
bosom. I cant bear having sick people around me.
Dont worry! From what I hear they wouldnt be around you
very longabout two hours seems to be the average.
Toller! Fera gazed at him in open-mouthed reproach, her
tongue coated with a fine slurry of honeycake.
Theres nothing for you to fret about, Toller said reassuringly,
even thoughas he had gathered from Glosomething
akin to a plague had begun simultaneously in eight widely
separated places. Outbreaks had first been reported from the
palatine provinces of Kail and Middac; then from the less
important and more remote regions of Sorka, Merrill, Padale,
Ballin, Yalrofac and Loongl. Since then there had been a lull of a
few days, and Toller knew the authorities were hoping against
hope that the calamity had been of a transient nature, that
the disease had burned itself out, that the mother country of
Kolcorron and the capital city would remain unaffected. Toller
could understand their feelings, but he saw little grounds for
optimism. If the ptertha had increased their killing range and
potency to the awesome extent suggested by the dispatches, they
were in his opinion bound to make maximum use of their new
powers. The respite that mankind was enjoying could mean that
the ptertha were behaving like an intelligent and ruthless enemy
who, having successfully tested a new weapon, had retired only
to regroup and prepare for a major onslaught.
We should think about returning to the Peel soon. Toller
drained his porcelain cup of wine and placed it under the bench
for retrieval by the vendor. Glo wants to bathe before
littlenight.
Im glad I wont have to help.
He has his own kind of courage, you know. I dont think I
could endure the life of a cripple, but I have yet to hear him utter
a single word of complaint.
Why do you keep talking about sickness when you know I
dont like it? Fera stood up and smoothed the wispy plumage of
her clothing. We have time to walk by the White Fountains,
havent we?
Only for a few minutes. Toller linked arms with his wife and
they crossed the Plaza of the Navigators and walked along the
busy avenue which led to the municipal gardens. The fountains
sculpted in snowy Padalian marble were seeding the air with
a refreshing coolness. Groups of people, some of them
accompanied by children, were strolling amid the islands of
bright foliage and their occasional laughter added to the idyllic
tranquillity of the scene.
I suppose this could be regarded as the epitome of civilised
life, Toller said. The only thing wrong with itand this is
strictly my own point of viewis that it is much too. . . . He
stopped speaking as the braying note of a heavy horn sounded
from a nearby rooftop and was quickly echoed by others in more
distant parts of the city.
Ptertha! Toller swung his gaze upwards to the sky.
Fera moved closer to him. Its a mistake, isnt it, Toller?
They dont come into the city.
Wed better get out of the open just the same, Toller said,
urging her towards the buildings on the north side of the gardens.
People all about him were scanning the heavens, butsuch was
the power of conviction and habitonly a few were hurrying to
take cover. The ptertha were an implacable natural enemy, but a
balance had been struck long ago and the very existence of
civilisation was predicated on the pterthas behaviour patterns
remaining constant and foreseeable. It was quite unthinkable
that the blindly malevolent globes could make a sudden radical
change in their habitsin that respect Toller was at one with the
people around himbut the news from the provinces had
implanted the seeds of unease deep in his consciousness. If the
ptertha could change in one waywhy not in another?
A woman screamed some distance to Tollers left, and the
single inarticulate pulse of sound framed the real worlds answer
to his abstract musings. He looked in the direction of the scream
and saw a single ptertha descend from the suns cone of
brilliance. The blue-and-purple globe sank into a crowded area
at the centre of the gardens, and now men were screaming too,
counterpointing the continuing blare of the alarm horns. Feras
body went rigid with shock as she glimpsed the ptertha in the last
second of its existence.
Come on! Toller gripped her hand and sprinted towards the
peristyled guildhalls to the north. In his pounding progress
across the open ground he had scant time in which to look out for
other ptertha, but it was no longer necessary to search for the
globes. They could be readily seen now, drifting among the
rooftops and domes and chimneys in placid sunlight.
There could only have been a few citizens of the Kolcorronian
empire who had never had a nightmare about being caught on
exposed ground amid a swarm of ptertha, and in the next hour
Toller not only experienced the nightmare to the full but went
beyond it into new realms of dread. Displaying their terrifying
new boldness, the ptertha were descending to street level all over
the citysilent and shimmeringinvading gardens and
precincts, bounding slowly across public squares, lurking in
archways and colonnades. They were being annihilated by the
panic-stricken populace, and it was here that the terms of the
ancient nightmare became inadequate for the actualitybecause
Toller knew, with a bleak and wordless certainty, that
the invaders represented the new breed of ptertha.
They were the plague-carriers.
In the long-running debate about the nature of the ptertha,
those who spoke in support of the idea that the globes possessed
some qualities of mind had always pointed to the fact that they
judiciously avoided cities and large towns. Even in sizable
swarms the ptertha would have been swiftly destroyed on venturing
into an urban environment, especially in conditions of
good visibility. The argument had been that they were less
concerned with self-preservation than with avoiding wasting
their numbers in futile attacksclear evidence of mentationand
the theory had had some validity when the pterthas
killing range was limited to a few paces.
But, as Toller had intuited at once, the livid globes drifting
down in Ro-Atabri were plague-carriers.
For every one of them destroyed, many citizens would be lost
to the new kind of poisonous dust which killed at great range,
and the horror did not stop therebecause the grim new rules of
conflict decreed that each direct victim of a ptertha encounter
would, in the brief time remaining to them, contaminate and
carry off to the grave perhaps dozens of others.
An hour elapsed before the wind conditions changed and
brought the first attack on Ro-Atabri to an end, butin a city
where every man, woman and child was suddenly a potential
mortal enemy and had to be treated as suchTollers nightmare
was able to continue for much, much longer. . . .
Toller had awakened early and, driven by the restlessness
which recently had been troubling him more and more, had
decided to get up and walk alone in the grounds of the Peel.
He began by pacing along the inner defensive screen and
checking that the nets were securely in place. Until the onslaught
of the plague only rural habitations had needed ptertha barriers,
and in those days simple nets and trellises had been adequatebut
all at once, in town and country alike, it had become
necessary to erect more elaborate screens which created a
thirty-yard buffer zone around protected areas. A single layer of
netting still sufficed for the roofs of most enclosures, because the
ptertha toxins were borne away horizontally in the wind, but it
was vital that the perimeters should be double screens, widely
separated and supported by strong scaffolding.
Lord Glo had gratified Toller by giving him, in addition to his
normal duties, the responsible and sometimes dangerous task of
overseeing the construction of the screens for the Peel and some
other philosophy buildings. The feeling that he was at last doing
something important and useful had made him less unruly, and
the risks of working in the open had provided satisfactions of a
different kind. Borreat Hargeths only significant contribution to
the anti-ptertha armoury had been the development of an odd-looking
L-shaped throwing stick which flew faster and farther
than the standard Kolcorronian cruciform, and in which in the
hands of a good man could destroy globes at more than forty
yards. While supervising screen construction Toller had perfected
his skill with the new weapon, and prided himself on
having lost no workers directly to the ptertha.
That phase of his life had drawn to its ordained close, however,
and nowin spite of all his effortshe was burdened with
a sense of having been caught like a fish in the very nets he had
helped to construct. Considering that more than two thirds of the
empires population had been swept away by the virulent new
form of pterthacosis, he should have been counting himself
fortunate to be alive and healthy, with food, shelter and a lusty
woman to share his bedbut none of those considerations could
offset the gnawing conviction that his life was going to waste. He
instinctively rejected the Churchs teaching that he had an
endless succession of incarnations ahead of him, alternating
between Land and Overland; he had been granted only one life,
one precious span of existence, and the prospect of squandering
what remained of it was intolerable.
Despite the buoyant freshness of the morning air, Toller felt
his chest begin to heave and his lungs to labour as though with
suffocation. Close to sudden irrational panic, desperate for a
physical outlet for his emotions, he reacted as he had not done
since his time of exile on the Loongl peninsula. He opened a gate
in the Peels inner screen, crossed the buffer zone and went
through the outer screen to stand on the unprotected slope of
Greenmount. A strip of pasturedeeded to the philosophy
order long agostretched before him for several furlongs, its
lower end slanting down into trees and mist. The air was almost
completely still, so there was little chance of encountering a stray
globe, but the symbolic act of defiance had an easing effect on
the psychological pressure which had been building within him.
He unhooked a ptertha stick from his belt and was preparing
to walk farther down the hill when his attention was caught by a
movement at the bottom edge of the pasture. A lone rider was
emerging from the swath of woodland which separated the
philosophers demesne from the adjacent city district of Silarbri.
Toller brought out his telescope, treasured possession, and with
its aid determined that the rider was in the Kings service and
that he bore on his chest the blue-and-white plume-and-sword
symbol of a courier.
His interest aroused, Toller sat down on a natural bench of
rock to observe the newcomers progress. He was reminded of a
previous time when the arrival of a royal messenger had
heralded his escape from the miseries of the Loongl research
station, but on this occasion the circumstances were vastly
different. Lord Glo had been virtually ignored by the Great
Palace since the debacle in the Rainbow Hall. In the old days the
delivery of a message by hand could have implied that it was
privy, not to be entrusted to a sunwriter, but now it was difficult
to imagine King Prad wanting to communicate with the Lord
Philosopher about anything at all.
The rider was approaching slowly and nonchalantly. By taking
a slightly more circuitous route he could have made the entire
journey to Glos residence under the smothering nets of the
citys ptertha screens, but it looked as though he was enjoying
the short stretch of open sky in spite of the slight risk of having a
ptertha descend on him. Toller wondered if the messenger had a
spirit similar to his own, one which chafed under the stringent
anti-ptertha precautions which enabled what was left of the
population to continue with their beleaguered existences.
The great census of 2622, taken only four years earlier, had
established that the empires population consisted of almost two
million with full Kolcorronian citizenship and some four million
with tributary status. By the end of the first two plague years the
total remaining was estimated at rather less than two million.
A minute proportion of those who survived did so because,
inexplicably, they had some degree of immunity to the
secondary infection, but the vast majority went in continual fear
for their lives, emulating the lowliest vermin in their burrows.
Unscreened dwellings had been fitted with airtight seals which
were clamped over doors, windows and chimney openings during
ptertha alerts, and outside the cities and townships the
ordinary people had deserted their farms and taken to living in
woodlands and forests, the natural fortresses which the globes
were unable to penetrate.
As a result agricultural output had fallen to a level which was
insufficient even for the greatly reduced needs of a depleted
population, but Tollerwith the unconscious egocentricity of
the younghad little thought to spare for the statistics which
told of calamities on a national scale. To him they amounted to
little more than a shadow play, a vaguely shifting background to
the central drama of his own affairs, and it was in the hope of
learning something to his personal advantage that he stood up to
greet the arriving kings messenger.
Good foreday, he said, smiling. What brings you to
Greenmount Peel?
The courier was a gaunt man with a world-weary look to him,
but he nodded pleasantly enough as he reined his bluehorn to a
halt. The message I bear is for Lord Glos eyes only.
Lord Glo is still asleep. I am Toller Maraquine, Lord Glos
personal attendant and a hereditary member of the philosophy
order. I have no wish to pry, but my lord is not a well man and he
would be displeased were I to awaken him at this hour except for
a matter of considerable urgency. Let me have the gist of your
message so that I may decide what should be done.
The message tube is sealed. The courier produced a
mock-rueful smile. And Im not supposed to be aware of its contents.
Toller shrugged, playing a familiar game. Thats a pityI
was hoping that you and I could have made our lives a little
easier.
Fine grazing land, the courier said, turning in the saddle to
appraise the pasture he had just ridden through. I imagine his
lordships household has not been greatly affected by the food
shortages. . . .
You must be hungry after riding all the way out here, Toller
said. I would be happy to set you down to a heros breakfast,
but perhaps there is no time. Perhaps I have to go immediately
and rouse Lord Glo.
Perhaps it would be more considerate to allow his lordship to
enjoy his rest. The courier swung himself down to stand beside
Toller. The King is summoning him to a special meeting in the
Great Palace, but the appointment is four days hence. It scarcely
seems to be a matter of great urgency.
Perhaps, Toller said, frowning as he tried to evaluate the
surprising new information. Perhaps not.
Chapter 7
It has been two years, Toller replied, determined not to be
excluded. And Leddravohr has had so much on his mind that he
has probably forgotten all about me.
I wouldnt count on it, my boythe prince has a certain
reputation in these matters. Besides, if I know you, youre quite
likely to give him a reminder.
Why would I do something so unwise?
Ive been watching you lately. Youre like a brakka tree
which is overdue for a blow-out.
I dont do that sort of thing any more. Toller made the
protest automatically, as he had often done in the past, but it
came to him that he had in fact changed considerably since his
first encounter with the military prince. His occasional periods of
restlessness and dissatisfaction were proof of the change,
because of the way in which he dealt with them. Instead of working
himself up to a state in which the slightest annoyance was liable
to trigger an outburst, he had learnedlike other mento
divert or sublimate his emotional energies. He had schooled
himself to accept an accretion of minor joys and satisfactions in
place of that single great fulfilment which was yearned for by so
many and destined for so few.
Very well, young man, Glo said as he adjusted a buckle.
Im going to trust you, but please remember that this is a
uniquely important occasion and conduct yourself accordingly. I
will hold you to your word on this point. You realise, of course,
why the King has seen fit to . . . hmm . . . summon me?
Is it a return to the days when we were consulted on the great
imponderables of life? Does the King want to know why men
have nipples but cant suckle?
Glo sniffed. Your brother has the same unfortunate tendency
towards coarse sarcasm.
Im sorry.
Youre not, but Ill enlighten you just the same. The idea I
planted in the Kings mind two years ago has finally borne fruit.
Remember what you said about my flying higher and seeing. . . ? No,
that was Lain. But heres something for you to . . . hmm . . . think
about, young Toller. Im getting on in years and
havent much longer to gobut Ill wager you a thousand nobles
that I will set foot on Overland before I die.
I would never challenge your word on any subject, Toller
said diplomatically, marvelling at the older mans talent for
self-deception. Anybody else, with the possible exception of
Vorndal Sisstt, would have remembered the council meeting
with shame. So great was the philosophers disgrace that they
would surely have been deposed from Greenmount had the
monarchy not been preoccupied with the plague and its consequencesyet
Glo still nurtured his belief that he was highly
regarded by the King and that his fantasising about the colonisation
of Overland could be taken seriously. Since the onset of his
illness Glo had shunned alcohol, and was able to comport
himself better as a result, but his senility remained to distort his
view of reality. Tollers private guess was that Glo had been
summoned to the palace to account for the continuing failure to
produce the efficacious long-range anti-ptertha weapon which
was vital if normal agriculture were to resume.
Weve got to make haste, Glo said. Cant risk being late on
our day of triumph. With Tollers help he donned his formal
grey robe, working it down over the cane framework which
enabled him to stand on his own. His formerly rotund body had
shrunk to a loose-skinned slightness, but he had left his clothing
unaltered to accommodate and hide the frame, hoping to disguise
the extent of his disability. It was one of the human foibles
which had earned him Tollers sympathy.
Well get you there in good time, Toller said reassuringly,
wondering if he should be trying to prepare Glo for the possible
ordeal that lay ahead.
It was a moist grey morning, the gloom of which was deepened
by the anti-ptertha screens overhead. The level of illumination
had not been reduced a great deal in those streets where it had
been sufficient to put up a roof of netting or lattices supported on
canes which ran horizontally from eave to eave. But where there
were roofs and parapets of different heights in proximity to each
other it had been necessary to erect heavy and complicated
structures, many of which were clad with varnished textiles to
prevent air currents and downdraughts from carrying ptertha
dust through countless apertures in buildings which were
designed for an equatorial climate. Many of the once-glittering
avenues in the heart of Ro-Atabri now had a cavernous dimness
to them, the citys architecture having been clogged and
obscured and rendered claustrophobic by the defensive shroud.
The Bytran Bridge, the main river crossing on the way south,
had been completely sheathed with timber, giving it something
of the appearance of a giant warehouse, and from there a
tunnel-like covered way crossed the moats and led to the Great
Palace, which was now draped and tented. Tollers first intimation
that the meeting was going to be different from that of two
years earlier came when he noticed the lack of carriages in the
principal courtyard. Apart from a handful of official equippages,
only his brothers lightweight broughamacquired after the
banning of team-drawn vehicleswaited near the entrance.
Lain was standing alone by the brougham with a slim roll of
paper under his arm. His narrow face looked pale and tired
under the sweeps of black hair. Toller jumped down and assisted
Glo to leave his carriage, discreetly taking his full weight until he
had steadied himself.
You didnt tell me this was going to be a private audience,
Toller said.
Glo gave him a look of humorous disdain, momentarily
appearing his old self. I cant be expected to tell you everything,
young manits important for the Lord Philosopher to be aloof
and . . . hmm . . . enigmatic now and again. Leaning heavily
on Tollers arm, he limped towards the carved arch of the
entrance, where they were joined by Lain.
During the exchange of greetings Toller, who had not seen his
brother for some forty days, was concerned at Lains obvious
debility. He said, Lain, I hope youre not working too hard.
Lain made a wry grimace. Working too hard and sleeping too
little. Gesalla is pregnant again and its affecting her more than
the last time.
Im sorry. Toller was surprised to hear that, after her
miscarriage of almost two years ago, Gesalla was still determined
on motherhood. It indicated a maternal instinct which he
had trouble in reconciling with the rest of her character. Apart
from the single curious shift in his perception of Gesalla on his
return from the disastrous council meeting, he had always seen
her as being too dry, too well-ordered and too fond of her
personal autonomy to enjoy rearing children.
By the way, she sends her regards, Lain added.
Toller smiled broadly to signal his disbelief as the three men
proceeded into the palace. Glo directed them through the muted
activity of the corridors to a glasswood door which was well away
from the administrative areas. The black-armoured ostiaries on
duty were a sign that the King was within. Toller felt Glos body
stiffen with exertion as he strove to present a good appearance,
and he in turn tried to look as though he was giving Glo only
minimal assistance as they entered the audience chamber.
The apartment was hexagonal and quite small, lighted by a
single window, and the only furnishings were a single hexagonal
table and six chairs. King Prad was already seated opposite the
window and by his side were the princes Leddravohr and Chakkell,
all of them informally attired in loose silks. Prads sole mark
of distinction was a large blue jewel which was suspended from
his neck by a glass chain. Toller, who had a strong desire for the
occasion to pass off smoothly for the sake of his brother and Lord
Glo, avoided looking in Leddravohrs direction. He kept his
eyes down until the King signalled for Glo and Lain to be seated,
then he gave all his attention to getting Glo into a chair with a
minimum of creaking from his frame.
I apologise for this delay, Majesty, Glo said when finally at
ease, speaking in high Kolcorronian. Do you wish my attendant
to retire?
Prad shook his head. He may remain for your comfort, Lord
GloI had not appreciated the extent of your incapacity.
A certain recalcitrance of the . . . hmm . . . limbs, that is
all, Glo replied stoically.
Nevertheless, I am grateful for the effort you made to be
here. As you can see, I am dispensing with all formality so that
we may have an unimpeded exchange of ideas. The circumstances
of our last meeting were hardly conducive to free
discussion, were they?
Toller, who had positioned himself behind Glos chair, was
surprised by the Kings amiable and reasonable tones. It seemed
as though his own pessimism had been ill-founded and that Glo
was to be spared fresh humiliation. He looked directly across the
table for the first time and saw that Prads expression was indeed
as reassuring as it could be on features that were dominated by
one inhuman, marble-white eye. Tollers gaze, without his
conscious bidding, swung towards Leddravohr and he experienced a
keen psychic shock as he realised that the princes eyes had been
drilling into him all the while, projecting unmistakable malice
and contempt.
Im a different person, Toller told himself, checking the reflexive
defiant spreading of his shoulders. Glo and Lain are not
going to be harmed in any way by association with me.
He lowered his head, but not before he had glimpsed Leddravohrs
smile flick into being, the effortless snake-fast twitch of his
upper lip. Toller was unable to decide on a course of action or
inaction. It appeared that all the things they whispered about
Leddravohr were true, that he had an excellent memory for faces
and an even better one for insults. The immediate difficulty
for Toller lay in that, determined though he was not to
cross Leddravohr, it was out of the question for him to stand
with his head lowered for perhaps the whole foreday. Could
he find a pretext to leave the room, perhaps something to do
with. . . ?
I want to talk about flying to Overland, the King said, his
words a conceptual bomb-blast which blew everything else out of
Tollers consciousness. Are you, in your official capacity as
Lord Philosopher, stating that it can be done?
I am, Majesty. Glo glanced at Leddravohr and the dark-jowled
Chakkell as though daring them to object. We can fly to
Overland.
How?
By means of very large hot air balloons, Majesty.
Goon.
Their lifting power would have to be augmented by gas
jetsbut it is providential that in the region where the balloons
would practically cease to function the jets would be their most
effective. Glo was speaking strongly and without hesitations, as
he could sometimes do when inspired. The jets would also
serve to turn the balloons over at the midpoint of the flight, thus
enabling them to descend in the normal manner.
I repeat, Majestywe can fly to Overland.
Glos words were followed by an air-whispering silence during
which Toller, bemused with wonder, looked down at his brother
to see ifas beforethe talk of flying to Overland had come as
a shock to him. Lain appeared nervous and ill at ease, but not at
all surprised. He and Glo must have been in collaboration, and if
Lain believed that the flight could be madethen it could be
made! Toller felt a stealthy coolness spread down his spine to the
accompaniment of what for him was a totally new intellectual
and emotional experience. I have a future, he thought.
I have discovered why I am here. . . .
Tell us more, Lord Glo, the King said. This hot air balloon
you speak ofhas it been designed?
Not only has it been designed, Majestythe archives show
that an example was actually fabricated in the year 2187. It was
successfully flown several times that year by a philosopher called Usader,
and it is believedalthough the records are . . . hmm . . . vague
on this pointthat in 2188 he actually attempted the Overland flight.
What happened to him?
He was never heard of again.
That hardly inspires confidence, Chakkell put in, speaking
for the first time. Its hardly a record of achievement.
That depends on ones viewpoint. Glo refused to be discouraged.
Had Usader returned a few days later one might be
entitled to describe his flight as a failure. The fact that he did not
return could indicate that he had succeeded.
Chakkell snorted. More likely that he died!
Im not claiming that such an ascent would be easy or without
its share of . . . hmm . . . risks. My contention is that our
increased scientific knowledge could reduce the risks to an
acceptable level. Given sufficient determinationand the
proper financial and material resourceswe can produce ships
capable of flying to Overland.
Prince Leddravohr sighed audibly and shifted in his chair, but
refrained from speaking. Toller guessed that the King had
placed powerful restraints on him before the meeting began.
You make it all sound rather like an aftday jaunt, King Prad
said. But isnt it a fact that Land and Overland are almost
five-thousand miles apart?
The best triangulations give a figure of 4,650 miles, Majesty.
Surface to surface, that is.
How long would it take to fly that distance?
I regret I cannot give a definite answer to that question at this
stage.
Its an important question, isnt it?
Undoubtedly! The speed of ascent of the balloon is of
fundamental importance, Majesty, but there are many variables
to be . . . hmm . . . considered. Glo signalled for Lain to open
his roll of paper. My chief scientist, who is a better mathematician
than I, has been working on the preliminary calculations.
With your consent, he will explain the problem.
Lain spread out a chart with trembling hands, and Toller was
relieved to see that he had had the foresight to draw it on a limp
cloth-based paper which quickly lay flat. Part of it was taken up
by a scale diagram which illustrated the sister worlds and their
spatial relationships; the remainder was given over to detailed
sketches of pear-shaped balloons and complicated gondolas.
Lain swallowed with difficulty a couple of times and Toller grew
tense, fearing that his brother was unable to speak.
This circle represents our own world . . . with its diameter of
4,100 miles, Lain finally articulated. The other, smaller circle
represents Overland, whose diameter is generally accepted as
being 3,220 miles, at its fixed point above our equator on the zero
meridian, which passed through Ro-Atabri.
I think we all learned that much basic astronomy in our
infancy, Prad said. Why cant you say how long the journey
from the one to the other will take?
Lain swallowed again. Majesty, the size of the balloon and
the weight of the load we attach to it will influence the free ascent
speed. The difference in temperature between the gases inside
the balloon and the surrounding atmosphere is another factor,
but the most important governing factor is the amount of crystals
available to power the jets.
Greater fuel economy would be achieved by allowing the
balloon to rise to its maximum heightslowing down all the
whileand not using the jets until the gravitational pull of Land
had grown weak. That, of course, would entail lengthening the
transit time and therefore increasing the weight of food and
water to be carried, which in turn would. . . .
Enough, enough! My head swims! The King held out both
his hand, fingers slightly crooked as though cradling an invisible
balloon. Settle your mind on a ship which will carry, say, twenty
people. Imagine that crystals are reasonably plentiful. Now, how
long will it take that ship to reach Overland? I dont expect you
to be precisesimply give me a figure which I can lodge in my
cranium.
Lain, paler than ever, but with growing assurance, ran a
fingertip down some columns of figures at the side of his chart.
Twelve days, Majesty.
At last! Prad glanced significantly at Leddravohr and Chakkell.
Nowfor the same shiphow much of the green and
purple will be required?
Lain raised his head and stared at the King with troubled eyes.
The King gazed back at him, calmly and intently, as he waited for
his answer. Toller sensed that wordless communication was
taking place, that something beyond his understanding was
happening. His brother seemed to have transcended all his
nervousness and irresolution, to have acquired a strange authority
whichfor the moment, at leastplaced him on a level
with the ruler. Toller felt a surge of family pride as he saw that
the King appeared to acknowledge Lains new stature and was
prepared to give him all the time he needed to formulate his
reply.
May I take it, Majesty, Lain said at length, that we are
talking about a one-way flight?
The Kings white eye narrowed. You may.
In that case, Majesty, the ship would require approximately
thirty pounds each of pikon and halvell.
Thank you. Youre not going to quibble over the fact that a
higher proportion of halvell gives the best result in sustained
burning?
Lain shook his head. Under the circumstancesno.
You are a valuable man, Lain Maraquine.
Majesty, I dont understand this, Glo protested, echoing
Tollers own puzzlement. There is no conceivable reason for
providing a ship with only enough fuel for one transit.
A single ship, no, the King said. A small fleet, no. But
when we are talking about. . . .He turned his attention back to
Lain. How many ships would you say?
Lain produced a bleak smile. A thousand seems a good
round figure, Majesty.
A thousand! There was a creaking sound from Glos cane
frame as he made an abortive attempt to stand up, and when he
spoke again an aggrieved note had crept into his voice. Am I
the only person here who is to be kept in ignorance of the subject
under discussion?
The King made a placating gesture. There is no conspiracy,
Lord Gloits merely that your chief scientist appears to have
the ability to read minds. It would please me to learn how he
divined what was in my thoughts.
Lain stared down at his hands and spoke almost abstractedly,
almost as though musing aloud. For more than two-hundred
days I have been unable to obtain any statistics on agricultural
output or ptertha casualties. The official explanation was that
the provincial administrators were too severely overworked to
prepare their returnsand I have been trying to persuade
myself that such was the casebut the indicators were already
there, Majesty. In a way it is a relief to have my worst fears
confirmed. The only way to deal with a crisis is to face up to it.
I agree with you, Prad said, but I was concerned with
avoiding a general panic, hence the secrecy. I had to be certain.
Certain? Glos large head turned from side to side. Certain?
Certain?
Yes, Lord Glo, the King said gravely. I had to be certain
that our world was coming to an end.
On hearing the bland statement Toller felt a unique emotional
pang. Any fear which might have been part of it fled at once
before curiosity and an overwhelming, selfish and gloating sense
of privilege. The most momentous events in history were being
staged for his personal benefit. For the first time in his life, he
was in love with the future.
We in Ro-Atabri have been comparatively fortunate thus
far, but throughout the empire the people are dying from the
insidious new form of pterthacosis in spite of all our efforts to
fend the globes off. And the newborn, upon whom our future
depends, are the most vulnerable. We might be facing the
prospect of slowly dwindling into a pitiful, doomed handful of
sterile old men and womenwere it not for the looming spectre
of famine. The agricultural regions are becoming incapable of
producing food in the quantities which are necessary for the
upkeep of our cities, even allowing for our vastly reduced urban
populations.
The King paused to give his audience a thin sad smile. There
are some among us who maintain that there is still room for
hope, that fate may yet relent and wheel against the ptertha
but Kolcorron did not become great by supinely trusting to
chance. That attitude is foreign to our national character. When
forced to yield ground in a battle, we withdraw to a secure
redoubt where we can gather our strength and determination to
surge forth again and overwhelm our enemies.
In the present case, as befits the ultimate conflict, there is the
ultimate redoubtand its name is Overland.
It is my royal decree that we shall prepare to withdraw to
Overlandnot in order to cower away from our enemy, but
to grow numerous and powerful again, to gain time in which to
devise means of destroying the ptertha in their loathsome
entirety, and finallyregardless of how long it may taketo
return to our home world of Land as a glorious and invincible
army which will triumphantly lay claim to all that is naturally and
rightfully ours.
The Kings oratory, enhanced by the formalism of the high
tongue, had carried Toller along with it, opening up new
perspectives in his mind, and it was with some surprise that he
realised no response was forthcoming from either his brother or
Glo. The latter was so immobile that he might have been dead,
and Lain continued to stare down at his hands as he twisted the
brakka ring on his sixth finger. Toller wondered, with a twinge of
guilt, if Lain was thinking of Gesalla and the baby which would
be born into turbulent times.
Prad ended the silence by choosing, oddly in Tollers view, to
address himself to Lain. Well, wrangler? Have you another
demonstration of mind reading for us?
Lain raised his head and eyed the King steadily. Majesty,
even when our armies were at their most powerful, we avoided
going against Chamteth.
I resent the implications of that remark, Prince Leddravohr
snapped. I demand that. . . .
Your promise, Leddravohr! The King rounded angrily on
his son. I would remind you of your promise to me. Be patient!
Your time is at hand.
Leddravohr raised both hands in a gesture of resignation as he
settled back in his chair, and now his brooding gaze was fixed on
Lain. The spasm of alarm Toller felt over his brothers welfare
was almost lost in the silent clamour of his reaction to the
mention of Chamteth. Why had he been so slow to appreciate
that an interplanetary migration fleet, if it were ever constructed,
would require power crystals on such a vast scale that
its needs could be met from only one scource? If the Kings
awesome plans also included going to war against the enigmatic
and insular Chamtethans, then the near future was going to be
even more turbulent than Toller could readily visualise.
Chamteth was a country so huge that it could be reached just
as readily by travelling east or west into the Land of the Long
Days, that hemisphere of the world which was not swept by
Overlands shadow and where there was no littlenight to punctuate
the suns progress across the sky. In the distant past several
ambitious rulers had tried probing into Chamteth and the outcome
had been so convincing, so disastrous that Chamteth had
virtually been erased from the national consciousness. It existed,
butas with Overlandits existence had no relevance to the
quotidian affairs of the empire.
Until now, Toller thought, striving to rebuild his picture of the
universe. Chamteth and Overland are linked. . . bonded . . . to
take one is to take the other. . . .
War against Chamteth has become inevitable, the King
said. Some are of the opinion that it always has been inevitable.
What do you say, Lord Glo?
Majesty,!. . . . Glo cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
Majesty, I have always regarded myself as a creative thinker,
but I freely admit that the grandeur and scope of your vision have
taken my . . . hmm . . . breath away. When I originally proposed
flying to Overland I envisaged despatching a small number
of pathfinders, followed by the gradual establishment of a small
colony. I had not dreamed of migration on the scale you are
contemplating, but I can assure you that I am equal to the
responsibilities involved. The designing of a suitable ship and the
planning of all the necessary. . . . Glo stopped speaking as he
saw that Prad was shaking his head.
My dear Lord Glo, you are not a well man, the King said,
and I would be less than fair to you if I permitted you to expend
what remains of your strength on a task of such magnitude.
But, Majesty. . . .
The Kings face hardened. Do not interrupt! The extremity
of our situation demands equally extreme measures. The entire
resources of Kolcorron must be reorganised and mobilised, and
therefore I am dissolving all the old dynastic family structures. In
their placeas of this momentis a single pyramid of
authority. Its executive head is my son, Prince Leddravohr, who will
control and coordinate every aspectmilitary and civilof our
national affairs. He is seconded by Prince Chakkell, who will be
responsible to him for the construction of the migration fleet.
The King paused, and when he spoke again his voice had none
of the attributes of humanity. Be it understood that Prince
Leddravohrs authority is absolute, that his power is unlimited,
and that to go counter to his wishes in any respect is a crime
equivalent to high treason.
Toller closed his eyes, knowing that when he opened them
again the world of his childhood and youth would have passed
into history, and that in its place would be a dangerous new
cosmos in which his tenure might be all too brief.
Chapter 8
Damn this glass, Prad said, tapping the transparent cupola
which enclosed the balcony. I used to enjoy taking the air here
at night. Now I can scarcely breathe.
Without the glass you wouldnt be breathing at all. Leddravohr
flicked his thumb, indicating a group of three ptertha
drifting overhead across the glowing face of Overland. The sun
had gone down and now the sister world was entering the
gibbous phases of its illumination, casting its mellow light over
the southern reaches of the city, Arle Bay and the deep indigo
expanses of the Gulf of Tronom. The light was good enough to
read by and would steadily increase in strength as Overland,
keeping pace with the rotation of Land, swung towards its point
of opposition with the sun. Although the sky had darkened only
to a rich mid-blue the stars, some of which were bright enough to
be visible in full daylight, formed blazing patterns from Overlands
rim down to the horizon.
Damn the ptertha, too, Prad said. You know, son, one of
the greatest tragedies of our past is that we never learned where
the globes come from. Even if they are spawned somewhere in
the upper atmosphere, it might have been possible at one time to
track them down and destroy them at source. Its too late now,
though.
What about your triumphant return from Overland?
Attacking the ptertha from above?
Too late for me, I mean. History will remember me for the
outward flight only.
Ah, yes history, Leddravohr said, once again wondering
at his fathers preoccupation with the pale and spurious immortality
offered by books and graven monuments. Life was a
transient thing, impossible to extend beyond its natural term,
and time spent in trying to do so was a squandering of the very
commodity one was seeking to preserve. Leddravohrs own
belief was that the only way to cheat death, or at least reconcile
oneself to it, was to achieve every ambition and sate every
appetite, so that when the time came the relinquishing of life was
little more than discarding an empty gourd.
His single overriding ambition had been to extend his future
kingship to every quarter of Land including Chamteth but
that was now denied him by a connivance of fate. In its place was
the prospect of a hazardous and unnatural flight into the sky,
followed by little more than a tribal existence on an unknown
world. He was angry about that, filled with a gnawing canker of
rage unlike anything he had ever known , and somebody would
have to pay. . . .
Prad sipped pensively at his wine. Have you prepared all
your dispatches?
Yes the messengers leave at first light. Leddravohr had
spent all his free time after the meeting personally writing orders
to the five generals he wanted for his staff. I instructed them to
use continuous thrust, so we should have distinguished company
quite soon.
I take it you have chosen Dalacott.
Hes still the best tactician we have.
Arent you afraid that his edge might be blunted? Prad said.
He must be seventy now, and being down in Kail when
the plague broke out there cant have done him much good.
Didnt he lose a daughter and a grandchild on the very first
day?
Something like that, Leddravohr replied carelessly. He is
still healthy, though. Still of value.
He must have the immunity. Prads face became more
animated as he fastened on to yet another of his talking points.
You know, Glo sent me some very interesting statistics at the
beginning of the year. They were collated by Maraquine. They
showed that the incidence of plague deaths among military
personnelwhich you would expect to be high because of their
exposureis actually somewhat lower than for the population in
general. And, significantly, long-serving soldiers and airmen are
the least likely to succumb. Maraquine suggested that years of
being near ptertha kills and absorbing minute traces of the dust
might train the body to resist pterthacosis. Its an intriguing
thought.
Father, its a totally useless thought.
I wouldnt say that. If the offspring of immune men and
women were also immune, from birth, then you could breed a
new race for whom the globes were no threat.
And what good would that be fo you and me? Leddravohr
said, disposing of the argument to his own satisfaction. No, as
far as Im concerned Glo and Maraquine and their ilk are
ornaments we can well do without. I look forward to the day
when. . . .
Enough! His father was suddenly King Prad Neldeever,
ruler of the empire of Kolcorron, tall ainl rigid, with one terrible
blind eye and one equally fearsome all-seeing eye which knew
everything Leddravohr would have wished to keep secret. Ours
will not be the house which is remembered for turning its back on
learning. You will give me your word that you will not harm Glo
or Maraquine.
Leddravohr shrugged. You have my word.
That came easily. His father stared at him for a moment,
dissatisfied, then said, Neither will you touch Maraquines
brother, the one who now attends to Glo.
That oaf! I have more important things with which to occupy
my mind.
I know. I have given you unprecedented powers because
you have the qualities necessary to bring a great endeavour
to a successful conclusion, and that power is not to be
abused.
Spare me all this, father, Leddravohr protested, laughing to
conceal his resentment at being admonished like a wilful child.
I intend to treat our philosophers with all the consideration
they deserve. Tomorrow Im going to Greenmount for two or
three daysto learn all I need to know about their skyshipsand
if you care to make enquiries youll hear that I am
emanating nothing but courtesy and love.
Dont overdo it. Prad drained his cup with a flourish, set
it down on the wide stone balustrade and prepared to leave.
Good night, son. And rememberthe future watches.
As soon as the King had departed Leddravohr exchanged his
wine for a glass of fiery Padalian brandy and returned to the
balcony. He sat down on a leather couch and gazed moodily at
the southern sky where three great comets plumed the star fields.
The future watches! His father was still cherishing the notion of
going down in history as another King Bytran, blinding himself
to the probability that there would be no historians to record his
achievements. The story of Kolcorron was drawing to a bizarre
and ignominious end just when it should have been entering the
most glorious era of all.
And Im the one who is losing most, Leddravohr thought.
Im never going to be a real King.
As he continued drinking brandy, and the night grew steadily
brighter, it came to Leddravohr that there was an anomaly in the
contrast between his attitude and that of his father. Optimism
was the prerogative of the young, and yet the King was looking
to the future with confidence; pessimism was a trait of the old,
and yet it was Leddravohr who was gloomy and prey to grim
forebodings. Why?
Was it that his father was too wrapped up in his enthusiasm for
all things scientific to concede that the migration was impossible?
Leddravohr took stock of his thoughts and was forced to discard
the theory. At some stage in the day-long meeting he had been
persuaded by the drawings, the graphs and the chains of figures,
and now he believed that a skyship could reach the sister world.
What, then, was the underlying cause of the malaise which had
entered his soul? The future was not completely black, after
allthere was the final war with Chamteth to anticipate.
As Leddravohr tilted his head back to finish a glass of brandy
his gaze drifted towards the zenithand suddenly he had his
answer. The great disk of Overland was now almost fully illuminated
and its face was just starting to show the prismatic changes
which heralded its nightly plunge into the shadow of Land.
Deepnightthat period when the world experienced real
darknesswas beginning, and it had its counterpart in Leddravohrs
mind.
He was a soldier, professionally immune to fear, and that was
why he had been so slow to acknowledge or even identify the
emotion which had lurked in his consciousness for most of the
day.
He was afraid of the Overland flight!
What he felt was not straightforward apprehension over the
undeniable risks involvedit was pure, primitive and unmanning
terror at the very idea of ascending thousands of miles into
the unforgiving blueness of the sky. The force of his dread was
such that when the awful moment for embarkation arrived he
might be unable to control himself. He, Prince Leddravohr
Neldeever, might break down and cower away like a frightened
child, possibly having to be carried bodily on to the skyship in full
view of thousands. . . .
Leddravohr jumped to his feet and hurled his glass away,
smashing it on the balconys stone floor. There was a hideous
irony in the fact that his introduction to fear should have taken
place not on the field of battle, but in the quietness of a small
room, at the hands of stammering nonentities, with their
scribbles and scratchings and their casual visions of the
unthinkable.
Breathing deeply and steadily as an aid to regaining mastery of
his emotions, Leddravohr watched the blackness of deepnight
envelope the world, and when he finally retired to bed his face
had regained its sculpted composure.
Chapter 9
Well just have to wait and see. Lain smiled briefly and
returned his attention to the papers and mathematical
instruments on his desk.
Yes. Toller studied the ceiling for a moment. This isnt a
sparkling conversation, is it?
It isnt any kind of conversation, Lain said. Whats
happening is that Im trying to work and you keep interrupting.
Sorry. Toller knew he should leave the room, but he was
reluctant to do so. It was a long time since he had been in the
family home, and some of his clearest boyhood memories were
of coming into this familiar roomwith its perette wood panels
and glowing ceramicsand of seeing Lain at the same desk,
going about the incomprehensible business of being a mathematician.
Tollers instincts told him that he and his brother
were reaching a watershed in their lives, and he had a longing for
them to share an hour of companionship while it was still
possible. He had been vaguely embarrassed about his feelings
and had not tried putting them into words, with the negative
result that Lain was ill at ease and puzzled by his continuing
presence.
Resolving to be quiet, Toller went to one of the stacks of
ancient manuscripts which had been brought from the Greenmount
archives. He picked up a leatherbound folio and glanced
at its title. As usual the words appeared as linear trains of letters
with elusive content until he used a trick which Lain had once
devised for him. He covered the title with his palm and slowly
slid his hand to the right so that the letters were revealed to him
in sequence. This time the printed symbols yielded up their
meaning: Aerostatic Flights to the Far North, by Muel Webrey,
2136.
That was as far as Tollers interest in a book normally went,
but balloon ascents had not been far from his mind since the
momentous meeting of the previous day, and his curiosity was
further stirred by the realisation that the book was five centuries
old. What had it been like to fly across the world in the days
before Kolcorron had arisen to unify a dozen warring nations?
He sat down and opened the book near the middle, hoping Lain
would be impressed, and began to read. Some unfamiliar spellings
and grammatical constructions made the text more oblique
than he would have liked, but he persevered, sliding his hand
across paragraph after paragraph which, disappointingly, had
more to do with ancient politics than aviation. He was beginning
to lose momentum when his attention was caught by a reference
toptertha: . . . and far to our left the pink globes of the
ptertha were rising.
Toller frowned and ran his finger across the adjective several
times before raising his head. Lain, it says here that ptertha are
pink.
Lain did not look up. You must have misread it. The word is
purple.
Toller studied the adjective again. No, it says pink.
You have to allow a certain amount of leeway in subjective
descriptions. Besides, the meanings of words can shift over a
long period of time.
Yes, but. . . . Toller felt dissatisfied. So you dont think
the ptertha used to be a diff
Toller! Lain threw down his pen. Toller, dont think Im
not glad to see youbut why have you taken up residence in my
office?
We never talk, Toller said uncomfortably.
All right, what do you want to talk about?
Anything. There may not be much . . . time. Toller sought
inspiration. You could tell me what youre working on.
There wouldnt be much point. You wouldnt understand
it.
Still wed have been talking, Toller said, rising to his feet
and returning the old book to the stacks. He was walking to the
door when his brother spoke.
Im sorry, Tolleryoure quite right. Lain smiled an
apology. You see, I started this essay more than a year ago, and I
want to finish it before I get diverted to other matters. But
perhaps it isnt all that important.
It must be important if youve been working on it all that
time. Ill leave you in peace.
Please dont go, Lain said quickly. Would you like to see
something truly wonderful? Watch this! He picked up a small
wooden disk, laid it flat on a sheet of paper and traced a circle
around it. He slid the disk sideways, drew another circle which
kissed the first and then repeated the process, ending with three
circles in a line. Placing a finger at each end of the row, he said,
From here to here is exactly three diameters, right?
Thats right, Toller said uneasily, wondering if he had
missed something.
Now we come to the amazing part. Lain made an ink mark
on the edge of the disk and placed it vertically on the paper,
carefully ensuring that the mark was at an outermost edge of the
three circles. After glancing up at Toller to make sure he was
paying proper attention, Lain slowly rolled the disk straight
across frie row. The mark on its rim described a lazy curve
and came down precisely on the outermost edge of the last
circle.
Demonstration ended, Lain announced. And thats part
of what Im writing about.
Toller blinked at him. The circumference of a wheel being
equal to three diameters?
The fact that it is exactly equal to three diameters. That
demonstration was quite crude, but even when we go to the
limits of measurement the ratio is exactly three. Does that not
strike you as being rather astonishing?
Why should it? Toller said, his puzzlement growing. If
thats the way it is, thats the way it is.
Yes, but why should it be exactly three? That and things like
the fact that we have twelve fingers make whole areas of calculation
absurdly easy. Its almost like an unwarranted gift from
nature.
But. . . But thats the way it is. What else could it be?
Now youre approaching the theme of the essay. There may be some
other . . . place . . . where the ratio is three-and-a-quarter,
or perhaps only two-and-a-half. In fact, theres no
reason why it shouldnt be some completely irrational number
which would give mathematicians headaches.
Some other place, Toller said. You mean another world?
LikeFarland?
No. Lain gave him a look which was both frank and
enigmatic. I mean another totalitywhere physical laws and
constants differ from those we know.
Toller stared back at his brother as he strove to penetrate the
barrier which had slid into place between them. It is all very
interesting, he said. I can see why the essay has taken you so
long.
Lain laughed aloud and came round the desk to embrace
Toller. I love you, little brother.
I love you.
Good! I want you to keep that in mind when Leddravohr
arrives. Im a committed pacifist, Toller, and I eschew all
violence. The fact that I am no match for Leddravo.hr is an
irrelevanceI would behave towards him in exactly the same
way were our social status and physiques transposed. Leddravohr
and his kind are part of the past, whereas we represent the
future. So I want you to swear that no matter what insult
Leddravohr offers me, you will stay apart and leave the conduct
of my affairs strictly to me.
Im a different person now, Toller said, stepping back.
Besides, Leddravohr might be in a good mood.
I want your word, Toller.
You have it. Besides, its in my own interests to keep on the
right side of Leddravohr if I want to be a skyship pilot. Toller
was belatedly shocked by the content of his own words. Lain,
why are we taking all this so calmly? We have just been told that
the world as we know it is coming to an end. . . and that some of
us have to try reaching another planet . . . yet were all going
about our ordinary business as though everything was normal. It
doesnt make sense.
Its a more natural reaction than you might think. And dont
forget the migration flight is only a contingency at this stageit
might never happen.
The war with Chamteth is going to happen.
That is the Kings responsibility, Lain said, his voice suddenly
brusque. It cant be laid at my door. I have to get on with
my work now.
I should see how my lord is faring. As Toller walked along
the corridor to the main stair he again wondered why Leddravohr
had chosen to come to the Square House instead of visiting
Glo at the much larger Greenmount Peel. The sunwriter
message from the palace had baldly stated that the Princes
Leddravohr and Chakkell would arrive at the house before
littlenight for initial technical briefings, and the infirm Glo had
been obliged to journey out to meet them. It was now well into
aftday and Glo would be growing tired, his strength further
sapped by the effort of trying to hide his disability.
Toller descended to the entrance hall and turned left into the
dayroom where he had left Glo in the temporary care of Fera.
The two had a very comfortable relationship because ofToller
suspectedrather than in spite of her lowly origin and
unpolished manner. It was another of Glos little affectations, a
way of reminding those around him that there was more to him
than the cloistered philosopher. He was seated at a table reading
a small book, and Fera was standing by a window gazing out at
the mesh-mosaic of the sky. She was wearing a simple one piece
garment of pale green cambric which showed off her statuesque
form.
She turned on hearing Toller enter the room and said, This is
boring. I want to go home.
I thought you wanted to see a real live prince at close
quarters.
Ive changed my mind.
Theyre bound to be here soon, Toller said. Why dont you
be like my lord and pass the time by reading?
Fera mouthed silently, carefully forming the swear words so
that there would be no doubt about what she thought of the
idea. It wouldnt be so bad if there was even some food.
But you ate less than an hour ago! Toller ran a humorously
critical eye over his gradewifes figure. No wonder youre
getting fat.
Im not! Fera slapped her belly inwards and contracted her
stomach, an action which caused a voluptuous ballooning of her
breasts. Toller viewed the display with affectionate appreciation.
It was a frequent source of wonder to him that Fera, in
spite of her appetite and habit of spending entire days lolling in
bed, looked almost exactly as she had done two years earlier.
The only noticeable change was that her chipped tooth had
begun to turn grey. She devoted much time to rubbing it with
white powders, supposed to contain crushed pearls, which she
obtained from the Samlue market.
Lord Glo looked up from his book, his clapped-in face
momentarily enlivened. Take the woman upstairs, he said to
Toller. Thats what Id do were I five years younger.
Fera correctly assessed his mood and produced the expected ribaldry,
I wish you were five years younger, my lordmerely
mounting the stairs would be enough to finish my husband.
Glo gave a gratified whinny.
In that case, well do it right here, Toller said. He darted
forward, put his arms around Fera and drew her close to him,
half-seriously simulating passion. There was an undeniable element
of providing sexual titillation for Glo in what he and Fera
were doing, but such was the relationship the three had built up
that the overriding motif was one of companionship and friendly
clowning. After a few seconds of intimate contact, however,
Toller felt Fera move against him with a hint of genuine purpose.
Do you still have the use of your old bedroom? she whispered,
pressing her lips to his ear. Im beginning to feel
like. . . . She stopped speaking and although she remained in
his arms he knew that somebody had entered the room.
He turned and saw Gesalla Maraquine regarding him with
cool disdain, the familiar expression she seemed to reserve just
for him. Her dark filmy clothing emphasised her slimness. It was
the first time they had met in almost two years and he was struck
by the fact that, as with Fera, her appearance had not altered in
any significant way. The sickness associated with her second
pregnancywhich had caused her to miss the littlenight
mealhad invested her pale features with a near-numinous dignity
which somehow made him feel that he was a stranger to all that
was important in life.
Good aftday, Gesalla, he said. I see you havent lost your
knack of materialising at precisely the wrong moment. Fera
slipped away from him. He smiled and looked down at Glo,
expecting his moral support, but Glo indulged in playful
treachery by gazing fixedly at his book, pretending to be so lost
in it that he had been unaware of what Toller and Fera were
doing.
Gesallas grey eyes considered Toller briefly while she decided
if he merited a reply, then she turned her attention to Glo. My
lord, Prince Chakkells equerry is in the precinct. He reports that
the Princes Chakkell and Leddravohr are on their way up the
hill.
Thank you, my dear. Glo closed his book and waited until
Gesalla had left the room before baring the ruins of his lower
teeth at Toller. I thought you werent. . . hmm . . . afraid of
that one.
Toller was indignant. Afraid? Why should I be afraid?
Huh! Fera had returned to her position by the window.
What was wrong with it?
What are you talking about?
You said she came in at the wrong moment. What was wrong
with it?
Toller was staring at her, exasperated and speechless, when
Glo tugged his sleeve to signal that he wanted to get to his feet. In
the entrance hall there were footfalls and the sound of a mans
voice. Toller helped Glo to stand up and lock the verticals of his
cane frame. They walked together into the hall, with Toller
inconspicuously taking much of Glos weight. Lain and Gesalla
were being addressed by the equerry, who was aged about forty
and had tallowy skin and out-turned liver-coloured lips. His
dark green tunic and breeches were foppishly decorated with
lines of tiny crystal beads and he wore the narrow sword of a
duellist.
I am Canrell Zotiern, representing Prince Chakkell, he
announced with an imperiousness which would have been better
suited to his master. Lord Glo and members of the Maraquine
familyno otherswill stand here in line facing the door and
will await the arrival of the prince.
Toller, who was shocked by Zotierns arrogance, assisted Glo
to the indicated place beside Lain and Gesalla. He glanced at
Glo, expecting him to issue the proper reprimand, but the older
man seemed too preoccupied with the laboured mechanics of
walking to have noticed anything amiss. Several of the household
servants watched silently from the door leading to the
kitchens. Beyond the archway of the main entrance the mounted
soldiers of Chakkells personal guard disturbed the flow of light
into the hall. Toller became aware that the equerry was looking
at him.
You! The body servant! Zotiern called out. Are you deaf?
Get back to your quarters.
My personal attendant is a Maraquine, and he remains with
me, Glo said steadily.
Toller heard the exchange as across a tumultuous distance.
The crimson drumming was something he had not experienced
in a long time, and he was dismayed to find that his cultivated
immunity to it was proved illusory. Im a different person, he told
himself, while a prickly chill moved across his brow. I AM a
different person.
And I have a warning for you, Glo went on, speaking in
high Kolcorronian and dredging up something of his old authority
as he confronted Zotiern. The unprecedented powers the
King has accorded Leddravohr and Chakkell do not, as you
appear to think, extend to their lackeys. I will tolerate no further
violations of protocol from you.
A thousand apologies, my lord, Zotiern said, insincere and
unperturbed, consulting a list he had taken from his pocket.
Ah, yesToller Maraquine . . . and a spouse named Fera.
He swaggered closer to Toller. While the subject of protocol
is in the air, Toller Maraquine, where is this spouse of yours?
Dont you know that all female members of the household
should be presented?
My wife is at hand, Toller said coldly. I will. . . . He
broke off as Fera, who must have been listening, appeared at the
door of the dayroom. Moving with uncharacteristic demureness
and timidity, she came towards Toller.
Yes, I can see why you wanted to keep this one hidden,
Zotiern said. I must make a closer inspection on behalf of the
prince.
As Fera was passing him he halted her by the expedient of
grasping a handful of her hair. The drumming in Tollers brain
crashed into silence. He thrust out his left hand and hit Zotiern
on the shoulder, knocking him off-balance. Zotiern went down
sideways, landing on his hands and knees, and immediately
sprang up again. His right hand was going for his sword and
Toller knew that by the time he fully regained his feet the blade
would be unsheathed. Propelled by instinct, rage and alarm,
Toller went in on his opponent and struck him on the side of the
neck with all the power of his right arm. Zotiern spun away,
limbs flailing the air like the blades of a ptertha stick, crashed to
the floor and slid several yards on the polished surface. He ended
up lying on his back, unmoving, his head angled close to one
shoulder. Gesalla gave a clear, high scream.
What happens here? The angry shout came from Prince
Chakkell, who had just come through the entrance closely
followed by four of his guard. He strode to Zotiern, bent over
him brieflyhis sparsely covered scalp glisteningand raised
his eyes towards Toller, who was frozen in the attitude of
combat.
You! Again! Chakkells swarthy countenance grew even
darker. Whats the meaning of this?
He insulted Lord Glo, Toller said, meeting the princes
gaze directly. He also insulted me and molested my wife.
That is correct, Glo put in. Your mans behaviour was
quite inexcus
Silence! Ive had my fill of this doltish upstart! Chakkell
swung his arm, signalling his guards to move in on Toller. Kill
him!
The soldiers came forward, drawing their black swords. Toller
backed away, thinking of his own blade which he had left at
home, until his heel touched the wall. The soldiers formed a
semicircle and closed in on him, eyes slitted and intent beneath
the rims of their brakka helmets. Beyond them Toller could see
Gesalla hiding in Lains embrace; the grey-robed Glo rooted to
the spot, his hand raised in ineffectual protest; and Fera
watching him through latticed fingers. Until that moment the guards
had remained equally distant from him, but now the one on the
right was taking the initiative and the point of his sword was
describing eager little circles as he prepared for the first thrust.
Toller braced himself against the wall and made ready to
launch himself forward beneath the thrust when it came, determined
to inflict some degree of injury on his executioners rather
than simply be cut down by them. The hovering sword tip
steadied, purposefully, and its message for Toller was that time
was at an end. Heightened perception of everything in his
surroundings brought him the awareness that another man was
entering the hall, and even in the desperate extremity he was
able to feel a pang of regret that the newcomer was Prince
Leddravohr, arriving just in time to savour his death. . . .
Stand away from that man! Leddravohr commanded. His
voice was not unduly loud, but the four guards responded at once
by stepping back from Toller.
What the . . . ! Chakkell wheeled on Leddravohr. Those
men are in my personal guard and they take orders only from
me.
Is that so? Leddravohr said calmly. He aimed a finger at the
soldiers and slowly swung it to indicate the opposite side of the
hall. The soldiers went with the line of it, as though controlled by
invisible rods, and took up new positions.
But you dont understand, Chakkell protested. The
Maraquine lout has killed Zotiern.
It shouldnt have been possibleZotiern was armed and the
Maraquine lout wasnt. This is part of the price you pay, my dear
Chakkell, for surrounding yourself with strutting incompetents.
Leddravohr went closer to Zotiern, looked down at him
and gave a low chuckle. Besides, he isnt dead. He is damaged
beyond repair, mind you, but he isnt quite dead. Isnt that so,
Zotiern? Leddravohr augmented the question by nudging the
fallen man with his toe.
Zotierns mouth emitted a faint bubbling sound and Toller
saw that his eyes were still open, frantic and staring, although his
body remained inert.
Leddravohr flicked his smile into existence for Chakkells
benefit. As you think so highly of Zotiern, well do him the
honour of sending him off along the Bright Road. Perhaps he
would even have chosen it himself were he still able to speak.
Leddravohr glanced at the four watchful soldiers. Take him
outside and see to it.
The soldiers, obviously relieved at being able to escape
Leddravohrs presence, saluted hastily before swooping on
Zotiern and carrying him outside to the precinct. Chakkell made
as if to follow, then turned back. Leddravohr gave him a
mock-affectionate slap on the shoulder, dropped a hand to his
sword and padded across the hall to stand before Toller.
You seem obsesse^ with placing your life in danger, he said.
Why did you do it?
Prince, he insulted Lord Glo. He insulted me. And he
molested my wife.
Your wife? Leddravohr turned and looked at Fera. Ah,
yes. And how did you overcome Zotiern?
Toller was puzzled by Leddravohrs tone. I punched him.
Once?
There was no need to do it again.
I see. Leddravohrs inhumanly smooth face was enigmatic.
Is it true that you have made several attempts to enter military
service?
It is true, Prince.
In that case I have good news for you, Maraquine,
Leddravohr said. You are now in the army. I promise you that
you will have many opportunities to satisfy your troublesome
warlike urges in Chamteth. Report to the Mithold Barracks at
dawn.
Leddravohr turned away without waiting for a reply and
began a murmured conversation with Chakkell. Toller remained
as he was, his back still pressed to the wall, as he tried to control
the seething of his thoughts. Despite his ungovernable temper he
had taken human life only once before, when he had been set
upon by thieves in a dark street in the Flylien district of
Ro-Atabri and had left two of them dead. He had not even seen
their faces and the incident had left him unaffected, but in the
case of Zotiern he could still feel the appalling crunch of vertebrae
and still could see the terrified eyes. The fact that he had
not killed the man outright only made the event more traumaticZotiern
had had a subjective eternity, helpless as a broken
insect, in which to anticipate the final sword thrust. Toller had
been floundering, trying to come to terms with his emotions,
when Leddravohr had delivered his verbal bombshell, and now
the universe was a chaos of tumbling fragments.
Prince Chakkell and I will retire to a separate room with Lain
Maraquine, Leddravohr announced. We are not to be
disturbed.
Glo signalled for Toller to come to his side. We have
everything ready for you, Prince. May I suggest that. . . ?
Suggest nothing, Lord Crippleyour presence is not required
at this stage. Leddravohrs face was expressionless as he
looked at Glo, as though he were not even worthy of contempt.
You will remain here in case I have reason to summon you
laterthough I confess I find it difficult to imagine your ever
being of any value to anybody. Leddravohr directed his cold
gaze at Lain. Where?
This way, Prince. Lain spoke in a low voice and he was
visibly quaking as he moved towards the stair. He was followed
by Leddravohr and Chakkell. As soon as they had passed out of
sight on the upper floor Gesalla fled from the hall, leaving Toller
alone with Glo and Fera. Only a few minutes had passed
since they had been together in the dayroom, and yet they
now breathed different air, inhabited a different world. Toller
sensed he would not feel the full impact of the change until
later.
Help me back to my . . . hmm . . . seat, my boy, Glo said.
He remained silent until installed in the same chair in the
dayroom, then looked up at Toller with a shamefaced smile.
Life never ceases to be interesting, does it?
Im sorry, my lord. Toller tried to find appropriate words.
There was nothing I could do.
Dont fret. You came out of it wellthough I fear it wasnt in
Leddravohrs mind to do you a favour when he inducted you into
his service.
I dont understand it. When he was walking towards me I
thought he was going to kill me himself.
Ill be sorry to lose you.
What about me? Fera said. Has anybody thought about
whats going to happen to me?
Toller recalled his earlier exasperation with her. You may
not have noticed, but we have all been given other things to think
about.
There is no need for you to worry, Glo said to her. You
may remain at the Peel for as long as you . . . hmm . . . wish.
Thank you, my lord. I wish I could go there now.
So do I, my dear, but Im afraid its out of the question. None
of us is free to leave until dismissed by the prince. That is the
custom.
Custom! Feras dissatisfied gaze travelled the room before
settling on Toller. Wrong moment!
He turned his back on her, unwilling to confront the enigma
of the feminine mind, and went to stand at a window. The
man I killed needed to be killed, he told himself, so Im notgoing
to brood about it. He turned his thoughts to the mystery of
Leddravohrs behaviour. Glo was quite rightthe prince had
not acted out of benignancy when summarily making him a
soldier. There was little doubt that he hoped for Toller to be
killed in battle, but why had he not seized the opportunity to take
revenge in person? He could easily have sided with Chakkell
over the death of the equerry and that would have been the end
of the matter. Leddravohr was capable of spinning out the
destruction of someone who had crossed him so that he could
derive maximum satisfaction from it, but surely that would be
placing too much importance on an obscure member of a
philosophy family.
The thought of his own background reminded Toller of the
astonishing fact that he was now in the army, and the realisation
struck him with as much or more force than Leddravohrs
original pronouncement. It was ironic that the ambition he had
cherished for much of his life should have been achieved in such
a bizarre fashion and just at a time when he was beginning to put
such ideas behind him. What was going to happen to him after he
reported to the Mithold Barracks in the morning? It was disconcerting to
find that he had no coherent vision of his future, that beyond the coming
night the pattern broke up into shards . . . bitty
reflections . . . Leddravohr . . . the army . . . Chamteth . . . the
migration flight. . . Overland. . . the unknown swirling into the
unknown. . . .
A gentle snore from behind him told Toller that Glo had gone
to sleep. He left it to Fera to ensure that Glo was comfortable
and continued staring through the window. The enveloping
ptertha screens interfered with the view of Overland, but he
could see the progression of the terminator across the great disk.
When it reached the halfway mark, dividing the sister world into
hemispheres of equal size but unequal brightness, the sun would
be on the horizon.
A short time before that point was reached Prince Chakkell
emerged from the lengthy conference and departed for his
residence in the Tannoffern Palace, which lay to the east of the
Great Palace. Now that the main streets of Ro-Atabri were
virtually tunnels it would have been possible for him to stay
longer in the Square House, but Chakkell was known for his
devotion to his wife and children. After he and his retinue had
left there was complete silence in the precinct, a reminder that
Leddravohr had come to the meeting unaccompanied. The
military prince was noted for travelling everywhere alonepartly,
it was said, because of his impatience with attendants, but
mainly because he scorned the use of guards. He was confident in
his belief that his reputation and his own battle sword were all
the protection he needed in any city of the empire.
Toller had hoped that Leddravohr would leave soon after
Chakkell, but hour after hour went by with no sign of the
discussion coming to an end. It appeared that Leddravohr was
determined to absorb as much aeronautical knowledge as was
possible in a very short time.
The weight-driven glasswood clock on the wall was showing
the hour of ten when a servant arrived with platters of simple
food, mainly fishcakes and bread. There was also a note of
apology from Gesalla, who was too ill to perform the normal
duties of hostess. Fera had been waiting for a substantial spread
and was theatrically shocked when Glo explained that no formal
meal could be served unless Leddravohr chose to go to table. She
ate most of what was available single-handed, then dropped into
a chair in a corner and pretended to sleep. Glo alternated
between trying to read in the unsatisfactory light from the
sconces and staring grimly into the distance. Toller received the
impression that his self-esteem had been irreparably damaged by
Leddravohrs casual cruelty.
It was almost the eleventh hour when Lain walked into the
room. He said, Please return to the hall, my lord.
Glo raised his head with a start. So the prince has finally
decided to leave.
No. Lain seemed slightly bewildered. I think the prince is
going to do me the honour of staying the night in my home. We
must present ourselves now. You and your wife as well, Toller.
Toller was at a loss to explain Leddravohrs unusual decision
as he raised Glo to his feet and helped him to leave the room. In
normal times and circumstances it would indeed have been a
great honour for a royal to sleep in the Square House, especially
as the palaces were within easy reach, but Leddravohr hardly
wanted to be gracious. Gesalla was already waiting near the
foot of the stair, holding herself tall and straight in spite of
her obvious weakness. The others formed a line with herGlo
at the centre, flanked by Lain and Tollerand waited for
Leddravohr to appear.
There was a delay of several minutes before the military prince
came to the head of the stair. He was eating the leg of a roast
quickfowl, and added to the discourtesy by continuing to gnaw at
the bone in silence until it was stripped of all flesh. Toller began
to get sombre premonitions. Leddravohr threw the bone to
the floor, wiped his lips with the back of a hand and slowly
came down the stairs. He was still wearing his swordanother
incivilityand his smooth face showed no sign of tiredness.
Well, Lord Glo, it appears I have needlessly kept you here all
day. Leddravohrs tone made it clear that he was not apologising.
I have learned most of what I need to know and will be able
to finish here in the morning. Many other matters demand my
attention, so to avoid wasting time in travelling back and forth to
the palace I will sleep here tonight. You will be in attendance
at the sixth hour. I take it you can bestir yourself by that
time?
I shall be here at the sixth hour, Prince, Glo said.
That is good to know, Leddravohr replied, jovially sarcastic.
He strolled along the line, paused when he reached Toller
and Fera, and produced the instantaneous smile which had
nothing to do with humour. Toller faced him as woodenly as
possible, his foreboding turning into a certainty that a day which
had begun badly was going to end badly. Leddravohr turned off
his smile, walked back to the stair and began to ascend. Toller
was beginning to wonder if his premonitions could have been
groundless when Leddravohr halted on the third step.
What is this? he mused, keeping his back to the attentive
group. My brain is weary, and yet my body craves activity.
There is a decision to be made hereshall I have a woman, or
shall I not?
Toller, already knowing the answer to Leddravohrs rhetorical
question, brought his mouth close to Feras ear. This is my
fault, he whispered. Leddravohr hates better than I knew. He
wants to use you as a weapon against me, and there is nothing we
can do about it. Youll just have to go with him.
Well see, Fera said, her composure unaffected.
Leddravohr drummed his fingers on the balustrade, prolonging
the moment, then turned to face the hall. You, he said,
pointing at Gesalla. Come with me.
But . . . ! Toller took one step forward, breaking the line,
his body a pounding column of blood. He gazed in helpless
outrage at Gesalla as she touched Lains hand and walked
towards the stair with a strange floating movement as though
tranced and not really aware of what was happening. Her
beautiful face was almost luminescent in its pallor. Leddravohr
went ahead of her and the two were lost in the flickering dimness
of the upper floor.
Toller wheeled on his brother. Thats your wifeand shes
pregnant!
Thank you for that information, Lain said in a dead voice,
regarding Lain with dead eyes.
But this is all wrong!
Its the Kolcorronian way. Incredibly, Lain was able to
fashion his lips into a smile. It is part of the reason we are
despised by every other nation in the world.
Who cares about the other . . . ? Toller became aware that
Fera, hands on hips, was staring at him with undisguised fury.
Whats the matter with you?
Perhaps if you had stripped me naked and thrown me at the
prince things would have worked out more to your liking, Fera
said in a low hard voice.
What do you mean?
I mean you couldnt wait to see me go with him.
You dont understand, Toller protested. I thought
Leddravohr wanted to punish me.
Thats exactly what he. . . . Fera broke off to glance at
Lain, then returned her attention to Toller. Youre a fool,
Toller Maraquine. I wish I had never met you. She spun on
her heel, suddenly haughty in a way he had never seen
before, walked quickly back into the day room and slammed the
door.
Toller gaped after her for a moment, baffled, then paced an
urgent circle around the hall and came back to Lain and Glo. The
latter, looking more exhausted and frail than ever, had clasped
Lains hand.
What would you like me to do, my boy? he said gently. I
could return to the Peel if you want the privacy.
Lain shook his head. No, my lord. It is very late. If you will do
me the honour of staying here I will have a suite prepared for
you.
Very well. As Lain left to instruct the servants Glo turned
his large head in Tollers direction. Youre not helping your
brother with all your running about like a caged animal.
I dont understand him, Toller muttered. Somebody
should do something.
What would you . . . hmm . . . suggest?
I dont know. Something.
Would it improve Gesallas lot if Lain were to get himself
killed?
Perhaps, Toller said, refusing to entertain logic. She could
at least be proud of him.
Glo sighed. Help me to a chair, and then fetch me a glass of
something with heat in it. Kailian black.
Wine? Toller was surprised despite his mental turmoil.
You want wine?
You said somebody should do something, and thats what
Im going to do, Glo said evenly. You will have to dance to
your own music.
Toller help Glo to a high-backed chair at the side of the hall
and went to obtain a beaker of wine, his mind oppressed with the
problem of how to reconcile himself to the intolerable. The
mode of thought was unnatural for him and it seemed a long time
before inspiration came. Leddravohr is only playing with us, he
decided, seizing the thread of hope. Gesalla cant be to the taste of
one who is accustomed to trained courtesans. Leddravohr is only
detaining her in his room, laughing at us. In fact, he can express
his contempt all the better by scorning to touch any of our
women. . . .
In the hour that followed Glo drank four large bumpers of
wine, rendering himself crimson of face and almost totally
helpless. Lain had retired to the solitude of his study, still
betraying no trace of emotion, and Toller was dejected when
Glo announced his desire to go to bed. He knew he would not
sleep and had no desire to be alone with his thoughts. He
half carried Glo to the assigned suite and helped him through all
the tedious procedures of toilet and getting to bed, then came
into the long transverse corridor which linked the principal
sleeping quarters. There was a whisper of sound to his left.
He turned and saw Gesalla walking towards him on the way to
her own rooms. Her black garments, long and drifting, and
blanched face gave her a spectral appearance, but her bearing
was erect and dignified. She was the same Gesalla Maraquine he
had always knowncool, private and indomitableand at the
sight of her he experienced a pang of mingled concern and relief.
Gesalla, he said, moving towards her, are you. . . ?
Dont come near me, she snapped with a look of slit-eyed
venom and walked past him without altering her step. Dismayed
by the sheer loathing in her voice, he watched until she had
passed out of view, then his gaze was drawn to the pale mosaic
floor. The trail of bloody footprints told a story more dreadful
than any he had tried to banish from his mind.
Leddravohr, oh Leddravohr, oh Leddravohr, he chanted
inwardly. We are wedded now, you and I. You have given
yourself to me. . . and only a death will set us apart.
Chapter 10
At the western limits of the Kolcorronian empire, somewhat
north of the equator, was a chain of volcanic islets which ended
in a low-lying triangle of land about eight miles on a side. Known
as Oldock, the uninhabited island had several features which
were of strategic importance to Kolcorron. One was that it was
close enough to Chamteth to form an excellent jumping-off
point for a sea-borne invasion force; another was that it was
thickly covered with rafter and tallon trees, two species which
grew to a great height and offered good protection against
ptertha.
The fact that Oldock and the whole Fairondes chain lay in
a prevailing westerly air stream was also advantageous to
Kolcorrons five armies. Although the troop ships were slowed
down and airships forced to make extensive use of their jets, the
steady wind blowing across open seas had a greater effect on the
ptertha, making it almost impossible for them to get within range
of their prey. Telescopes showed the livid globes swarming in
high-altitude contraflows but they were for the most part swept
away to the east when they tried to penetrate lower levels of the
atmosphere. When planning the invasion the Kolcorronian high
command had allowed for up to one sixth of their personnel
being lost to ptertha, whereas the actual casualties were
negligible.
As the armies progressed westward there was a gradual but
perceptible change in the patterns of night and day. Foreday
grew shorter and aftday longer as Overland drifted away from
the zenith and approached the eastern horizon. Eventually
foreday was reduced to a brief dazzle of prismatics as the sun
crossed the narrow gap between the horizon and Overlands
disk, and soon after that the sister world was nesting on Lands
eastern rim. Littlenight became a short extension of night, and
there was a heightened sense of expectancy among the invaders
as the celestial evidence told them they were entering the Land
of the Long Days.
The establishment of a beachhead on Chamteth itself was
another phase of the operation in which considerable losses
had been expected, and the Kolcorronian commanders could
scarcely believe their good fortune when they found the
tree-covered strands unwatched and undefended.
The three widely separated invasion prongs met no resistance
whatsoever, converging and consolidating without a single
casualty apart from the accidental fatalities and injuries which
are inevitable when large masses of men and materiel enter an
alien territory. Almost at once brakka groves were found among
the other types of forestation, and within a day bands of naked
slimers were at work behind the advancing military. The sacks of
green and purple crystals gutted from the brakka were loaded on
to separate cargo shipslarge quantities of pikon and halvell
were never transported togetherand in an incredibly short
time the first steps had been taken to initiate a supply chain
reaching all the way back to Ro-Atabri.
Aerial reconnaissance was ruled out for the time being,
because airships were too conspicuous, but with ancient maps to
guide them the invaders were able to push westwards at a steady
pace. The terrain was swampy in places, infested with poisonous
snakes, but presented no serious obstacles to well trained
soldiers whose morale and physical condition were at a high
level.
It was on the twelfth day that a scout patrol noticed an airship
of unfamiliar design scudding silently across the sky ahead of
them.
By that time the vanguard of the Third Army was emerging
from the waterlogged littoral and was reaching higher ground
characterised by a series of drumlins running from north to
south. Trees and other kinds of vegetation were more sparse
here. It was the type of ground on which an unopposed army
could have made excellent progressbut the first of the
Chamtethan defenders were lying in wait.
They were swarthy men, long-muscled and black-bearded,
wearing flexible armour made from small flakes of brakka sewn
together like fish scales, and they fell on the invaders with a
ferocity which even the most seasoned Kolcorronians had never
encountered before. Some of them appeared to be suicide
groups, sent in to cause maximum damage and disarray, creating
diversions which enabled others to set up attacks using a variety
of long-range weaponscannon, mortars and mechanical
catapults which hurled pikon-halvell bombs.
The Kolcorronian crack troops, veterans of many frontier
engagements, destroyed the Chamtethans in the course of a
diffuse, multi-centred battle which lasted almost the entire day.
It was found that fewer than a hundred men had died, compared
with more than twice that number of the enemy, and when the
following day had passed without further incident the spirits of
the invaders were again at a peak.
From that stage onwards, with secrecy no longer possible, the
line soldiers were preceded by an air cover of bombers and
surveillance ships, and the men on the ground were reassured by
the sight of the elliptical craft patterning the sky ahead.
Their commanders were less complacent, however, knowing
they had encountered only a local defence force, that intelligence
concerning the invasion had been flashed to the heart of
Chamteth, and that the might of a huge continent was being
drawn up against them.
Chapter 11
The clear fluid had a curious aroma, honeyed and peppery at
the same time. It was a distillation of extracts of maidenfriend,
the herb which when chewed regularly by women prevented
them from conceiving children. In its concentrated form it was
even more inimical to life, providing a gentle, painless and
absolutely certain escape from all the troubles of the flesh. It was
greatly treasured among those of the Kolcorronian aristocracy
who had no taste for the more honourable but very bloody
traditional methods of committing suicide.
Dalacott emptied the bottle into his cup of wine and, after only
the slightest hesitation, took a tentative sip. The poison was
scarcely detectable and might even have been said to have
improved the rough wine, adding a hint of spicy sweetness to it.
He took another sip and set the cup aside, not wishing to slip
away too quickly. There was a final self-imposed duty he had yet
to perform.
He looked around his tent, which was furnished with only a
narrow bed, a trunk, his portable desk and some folding chairs
on straw matting. Other officers of staff rank liked to surround
themselves with luxury to ease the rigours of campaign, but that
had never been Dalacotts way. He had always been a soldier
and had lived as a soldier should, and the reason he was choosing
to die by poison instead of the blade was that he no longer
regarded himself as worthy of a soldiers death.
It was dim inside the tent, the only light coming from a single
military field lantern of the type which fuelled itself by attracting
oilbugs. He lit a second lantern and placed it on his desk, still
finding it a little strange that such measures should be necessary
for reading at night. This far west in Chamteth, across the
Orange River, Overland was out of sight beneath the horizon
and the diurnal cycle consisted of twelve hours of uninterrupted
daylight followed by twelve hours of unrelieved darkness.
Had Kolcorron been in this hemisphere its scientists
would probably have devised an efficient lighting system long
ago.
Dalacott raised the lid of his desk and took out the last volume
of his diary, the one for the year 2629. It was bound in limp green
leather and had a separate sheet for each day of the year.
He opened the book and slowly turned its pages, compacting
the entire Chamteth campaign into a matter of minutes, picking
out the key events whichinsensibly at firsthad led to his
personal disintegration as a soldier and as a man. . . .
His rationale seemed to be that such desperate measures would
be unnecessary if it were established that, for some unguessable
reason, conditions in the Land of the Long Days were unfavourable
to ptertha. That being the case, it would only be necessary for
Kolcorron to subjugate Chamteth and transfer the seat of power
and the remaining population to this continenta much more
logical and natural process than trying to reach another
planet. . . .
An important factor in our favour is that this country is so rich
in resources, particularly in brakka and edible crops. The sound
of brakka pollination discharges is constantly being mistaken by
my men for enemy cannon fire or bombs, and we have an
abundance of power crystals for our heavy weaponry. There is
no difficulty in keeping the armies well fed, in spite of the
Chamtethans efforts to burn the crops they are forced to
abandon.
The Chamtethan women, and even quite small children, will
indulge in that form of destruction if left to their own devices. With
our manpower stretched to the limit, we are unable to divert
combat troops into guard duties and for that reason Leddravohr
has decreed that we take no prisoners, regardless of age or sex.
It is sound military thinking, but I have been sickened by the
amount of butchery I have witnessed of late. Even the most
hardened of the soldiery go about their business with set grey
faces, and in the encampments at night there is a contrived and
unnatural quality to the little merriment that one overhears.
This is a seditious thought, one I would not express anywhere
except in the privacy of these pages, but it is one thing to spread the
benefits of the empire to unenlightened and squabbling tribes
and quite another to undertake the annihilation of a great nation
whose sole offence was to husband its resources of brakka.
I have never had time for religion, but nowfor the first
timeI am beginning to comprehend the meaning of the word
sin. . . .
Why had he been chosen to go on and on for more than
seventy years, with the false blessing of the immunity, when
others could have made much better use of the gift of life?
Without any conscious thought on his part, Dalacotts right
hand slipped into a pocket and located the curious object he had
found on the banks of the Bes-Undar all those years ago. He
stroked his thumb in a circular motion over its mirrorlike surface
as he again began to turn the pages of his diary.
This morning, after having put off doing so for many days, I
began signing the sheaf of award citations on my desk and
discovered that my own sonToller Maraquineis serving as an
ordinary soldier in one of the regiments directly under my control!
It appears that he has been recommended for valour disks no
less than three times in spite of the brevity of his service and lack of
formal training. In theory a conscript, as he must be, should not
be spending so much time in the front line, but perhaps the
Maraquine family has used its intimate connections with the court
to enable Toller to advance his belated military career. This is
something I must enquire into if I ever have some freedom from
the pressures of my command.
Truly these are changed times, when the military caste not only
calls upon outsiders to swell its ranks, but catapults them into the
utmost danger and what passes for glory.
I will do my best to see my son, if it can be arranged without
exciting suspicion in him and comment from others. A meeting
with Toller would be the one gleam of brightness in the deepnight
of this criminal war.
Telescopic observations from airships as far east from here as
the Loongl Peninsula revealed some days ago that large numbers
of ptertha were drifting south across the equator. The sightings
have been patchy, because we have few ships in the Fyallon Ocean
at present, but the opinion of scientists seems to be that the ptertha
were moving south to take advantage of a wind cell which
would carry them west for a great distance and then north again
into Chamteth.
I have never subscribed to the theory that the globes possess a
rudimentary intelligence, but if they really are capable of such
behaviouri.e. making use of global weather patternsthe
conclusion that they have a malign purpose is almost inescapable.
Perhaps, like ants and some similar creatures, their kind as a
whole has some form of composite mind, although individuals are
quite incapable of mentation.
There has also been a curious report, as yet unconfirmed, from
my own theatre.
Two line soldiers in a forward area claim that they saw a ptertha
which was pale pink. According to their story the globe came to
within forty or so paces of their position, but showed no inclination
to draw nearer and eventually rose and drifted away to the
west. What is one to make of such strange accounts? Could it be
that two battle-weary soldiers are conniving to obtain a few days of
interrogation in the safety of the base camp?
The splendid achievement, perhaps the culmination of my
military career, began with my making the kind of mistake which
would have been avoided by a green lieutenant straight out of
academy.
It all began in the eighth hour when I became impatient with
Captain Kadal over his tardiness in taking a stretch of open
ground in sector D14. His reason for hanging back in the security
of the forest was that his hastily prepared aerial map showed the
territory to be traversed by several streams, and he believed them
to be deep gullies capable of concealing sizable numbers of the
enemy. Kadal is a competent officer, and I should have left him to
scout the ground in his own way, but I feared that numerous
setbacks were making him timorous, and I was overcome by a
foolhardy desire to set an example to him and the men.
Accordingly, I took a sergeant and a dozen mounted soldiers
and rode forward with them in person. The terrain was well suited
to the bluehorns and we covered the ground quickly. Too quickly!
At a distance of perhaps a mile from our lines the sergeant
became visibly uneasy, but I was too puffed up with success to pay
him any heed. We had crossed two streams which were, as
indicated on the map, too shallow to provide any kind of cover,
and I became inflamed with a vision of myself casually presenting
the whole area to Kadal as a prize I had won on his behalf with my
boldness.
Before I knew it we had advanced close on two miles and even
in my fit of megalomania I was beginning to hear the nagging
voice of common sense warning me that enough was enough,
especially as we had crossed a vestigial ridge and were no longer in
sight of our own lines.
That was when the Chamtethans made their appearance.
They sprang up from the ground on both sides as if by magic,
though of course there was no sorcery involvedthey had been
hiding in the very gullies whose existence I had blithely set out to
disprove. There were at least two-hundred, looking like black
reptiles in their brakka armour. Had their force been composed
solely of infantry we could have outrun them, but a good quarter
of their number were mounted and were already racing to block
off our retreat.
I became aware of my men staring at me expectantly, and the
fact that there was no sign of reproach in their eyes made my
personal position all the worse. I had thrown away their lives with
my overweening pride and stupidity, and all they asked of me in
that terrible moment was a decision as to where and how they
should die!
I looked all about and saw a tree-covered mound several
furlongs ahead of us. It would afford some protection and there
was a possibility that from high up in one of the trees we would be
able to get a sunwriter message back to Kadal and call for help.
I gave the necessary order and we rode with all speed to the
mound, fortuitously surprising the Chamtethans, who had expected
us to flee in the opposite direction. We reached the trees well
ahead of our pursuers, who in any case were in no particular
hurry. Time was on their side, and it was all too clear to me that
even if we did succeed in communicating with Kadal it would be to
no avail.
While one of the men was beginning to climb a tree with the
sunwriter slung on his belt I used my field glasses in an attempt to
locate the Chamtethan commander, to see if I could divine his
intention. If he was cognisant of my rank he might try to take me
aliveand that was something I could not have permitted. It was
while sweeping the line of Chamtethan soldiers with the powerful
glasses that I saw something which, even at that time of high peril,
produced in me a spasm of dread.
Ptertha!
Four of the purple-tinted globes were approaching from the
south, borne on the light breeze, skimming over the grass. They
were plainly visible to the enemyI saw several men point at
thembut to my surprise no defensive action was taken. I saw the
globes come closer and closer to the Chamtethans andsuch is
the power of reflexJ had to stifle the urge to shout a warning. The
foremost of the globes reached the line of soldiers and abruptly
ceased to exist, having burst among them.
Still no defensive or evasive action was taken. I even saw one
soldier casually slash at a ptertha with his sword. In a matter of
seconds the four globes had disintegrated, shedding their charges
of deadly dust among the enemy, who appeared to be quite
uncaring.
If what had happened up to that point was surprising, the
aftermath was even more so.
The Chamtethans were in the process of spreading out to form a
circle around our inadequate little fortress when I saw the
beginnings of a commotion among their ranks. My glasses showed that
some of the black-armoured soldiers had fallen. Already! Their
comrades were kneeling beside them to render aid andwithin
the space of several breathsthey too were sprawling and
writhing on the ground!
The sergeant came to my side and said, Sir, the corporal says
he can see our lines. What message do you want to send?
Wait! I elevated my glasses slightly to take in the middle
distance and after a moment picked out other ptertha weaving and
wavering above the grasslands. Instruct him to inform Captain
Kadal that we have encountered a large detachment of the enemy,
but that he is to remain where he is. He is not to advance until I
send a further command.
The sergeant was too well disciplined to venture a protest, but
his perplexity was evident as he hurried away to transmit my
orders. I resumed my surveillance of the Chamtethans. By that
time there was a general awareness that something was terribly
amiss, evidenced by the manner in which the soldiers were
running here and there in panic and confusion. Men who had
begun to advance on our position turned andnot understanding
that their sole hope of survival lay in fleeing the scenerejoined
the main body of their force. I watched with a clammy coldness in
my gut as they too began to stagger and fall.
There were gasps of wonderment from behind me as my
own men, even with unaided vision, took in the fact that the
Chamtethans were swiftly being destroyed by some awesome and
invisible agency. In a frighteningly short space of time every last
one of the enemy had gone down, and nothing was moving on the
plain save groups ofbluehorns which had begun to graze
unconcernedly among the bodies of their masters. (Why is it that all
members of the animal kingdom, apart from types of simian, are
immune to ptertha poison?)
When 1 had taken my fill of the dread scene I turned and almost
laughed aloud as I saw that my men were gazing at me with a
mixture of relief, respect and adoration. They had believed
themselves doomed, and nowsuch are the workings of the common
soldiers mindtheir gratitude for being spared was being
focussed on me, as though their deliverance had been won
through some masterly strategy on my part. They seemed to have
no thought at all for the wider implications of what had occurred.
Three years earlier Kolcorron had been brought to its knees by
a sudden malevolent change in the nature of our age-old foe, the
ptertha, and now it appeared that there had been another and
greater escalation of the globes evil powers. The new form
of pterthacosisfor nothing else could have struck down the
Chamtethanswhich killed a man in seconds instead of hours
was a grim portent of dark days ahead of us.
I relayed a message to Kadal, warning him to keep within the
forest and to be on the alert for ptertha, then returned to my vigil.
The glasses showed some ptertha in groups of two or three drifting
on the southerly breeze. We were reasonably safe from them,
thanks to the protection of the trees, but I waited for some time and
made sure the sky was absolutely clear before giving the order to
retrieve our bluehorns and to return to our own lines at maximum
speed.
Leddravohr has arrived at the truth by a characteristically direct
method. He had a group of Chamtethan men and women tied to
stakes on a patch of open ground, and beside them he placed a
group of our own wounded, men who had little hope of recovery.
Eventually they were found by drifting ptertha, and the outcome
was witnessed through telescopes. The Kolcorronians, in
spite of their weakened condition, took two hours to succumb
to pterthacosisbut the hapless Chamtethans died almost
immediately.
Why does this strange anomaly exist?
One theory I have heard is that the Chamtethans as a race have a
certain inherited weakness which renders them highly vulnerable
to pterthacosis, but I believe that the real explanation is the much
more complicated one advanced by our medical advisors. It
depends on there being two distinct varieties of pterthathe
blackish-purple type known of old to Kolcorron, which is highly
venomous; and a pink type indigenous to Chamteth, which is
harmless or relatively so. (The sighting of a pink globe in this area
turns out to have been duplicated many times elsewhere.)
The theory further states that in centuries of warfare against the
ptertha, in which millions of the globes have been destroyed, the
entire population of Kolcorron has been exposed to microscopic
quantities of the toxic dust. This has given us some slight degree of
tolerance for the poison, increased our resistance to it, by a
mechanism similar to the one which ensures that some diseases
can be contracted only once. The Chamtethans, on the other
hand, have no resistance whatsoever, and an encounter with a
poisonous ptertha is even more catastrophic for them than it is for
us.
One experiment which would go a long way towards proving
the second theory would be to expose groups of Kolcorronians
and Chamtethans to pink ptertha. No doubt Leddravohr will duly
arrange for the experiment to be carried out if we enter a region
where the pink globes are plentiful.
He took a further measured sip of his wine and turned to the
last entry in the diary. It had been made many days earlier, and
after its completion he had abandoned the habit of a lifetime by
ceasing to record each days activities and thoughts.
In a way that had been a symbolic suicide, preparing him for
tonights actuality. . . .
The ptertha plague has done our work for us.
In the space of only six days since the purple ptertha made their
appearance in Chamteth the plague has raged the length and
breadth of the continent, sweeping away its inhabitants in their
millions. A swift and casual genocide!
We no longer have to progress on foot, fighting our way yard by
yard against a dedicated enemy. Instead, we advance by airship,
with our jets on continuous thrust. Travelling in that manner uses
up large quantities of power crystalsboth in the propulsion
tubes and the anti-ptertha cannonbut such considerations are
no longer important.
We are the proud possessors of an entire continent of mature
brakka and veritable mountains of the green and purple. We share
our riches with none. Leddravohr has not rescinded his order to
take no prisoners, and the isolated handfuls of bewildered and
demoralised Chamtethans we encounter are put to the sword.
I have flown over cities, towns and villages and farmlands
where nothing lives except for wandering domestic animals. The
architecture is impressiveclean, well-proportioned, dignified
but one has to admire it from afar. The stench of rotting corpses
reaches high into the sky.
We are soldiers no longer.
We are the carriers of pestilence.
We ARE pestilence.
I have nothing more to say.
Chapter 12
Toller was only accustomed to seeing those configurations
when Land was at the opposite side of its path around the sun, at
which time they were dominated and dimmed by the great disk
of Overland. He stood unmoving in the dusk, watching starry
reflections tremble on the broad quiet waters of the Orange
River. All about him the myriad subdued lights of the Third
Armys headquarters glowed through the tree lanes of the forest,
the days of open encampments having passed with the advent of
the ptertha plague.
One question had been on his mind all day: Why should
General Dalacott want a private interview with me?
He had spent several days of idleness at a transit camp twenty
miles to the westpart of an army which, suddenly, had no work
to doand had been trying to adapt to the new pace of life when
the battalion commander had ordered him to report to headquarters.
On arrival he had been examined briefly by several
officers, one of whom he thought might be Vorict, the adjutant-general.
He had been told that General Dalacott wished to
present him with valour disks in person. The various officers had
plainly been puzzled by the unusual arrangement, and had
discreetly pumped Toller for information before accepting that
he was as unenlightened about the matter as they.
A young captain emerged from the nearby administrative
enclosure, approached Toller through the spangled dimness and
said, Lieutenant Maraquine, the general will see you now.
Toller saluted and went with the officer to a tent which,
unexpectedly, was quite small and unadorned. The captain
ushered him in and quickly departed. Toller stood at attention
before a lean, austere-looking man who was seated at a portable
desk. In the weak light from two field lanterns the generals
cropped hair could either have been white or blond, and
he looked surprisingly young for a man with fifty years of
distinguished service. Only his eyes seemed old, eyes which had
seen more than was compatible with the ability to dream.
Sit down, son, he said. This is a purely informal meeting.
Thank you, sir. Toller took the indicated chair, his
mystification growing.
I see from your records that you entered the army less than a
year ago as an ordinary line soldier. I know these are changed
times, but wasnt that unusual for a man of your social status?
It was specially arranged by Prince Leddravohr.
Is Leddravohr a friend of yours?
Encouraged by the generals forthright but amiable manner,
Toller ventured a wry smile. I cannot claim that honour,
sir.
Good! Dalacott smiled in return. So you achieved the rank
of lieutenant in less than a year through your own efforts.
It was a field commission, sir. It may not be given full
endorsement.
It will. Dalacott paused to sip from an enamelled cup.
Forgive me for not offering you refreshmentthis is an exotic
brew and I doubt if it would be to your taste.
Im not thirsty, sir.
Perhaps you would like these instead. Dalacott opened a
compartment in his desk and took out three valour disks. They
were circular flakes of brakka inlaid with white and red glass. He
handed them to Toller and sat back to view his reactions.
Thank you. Toller fingered the disks and put them away in a
pocket. Im honoured.
You disguise the fact quite well.
Toller was embarrassed and disconcerted. Sir, I didnt intend
any. . . .
Its all right, son, Dalacott said. Tell me, is army life not
what you expected?
Since I was a child I have dreamed of being a warrior,
but. . . .
You were prepared to wipe an opponents blood from your
sword, but you didnt realise there would be smears of his dinner
as well.
Toller met the generals gaze squarely. Sir, I dont understand
why you brought me here.
I think it was to give you this. Dalacott opened his right
hand to reveal a small object which he dropped on to Tollers
palm.
Toller was surprised by its weight, by the massy impact of it on
his hand. He held the object closer to the light and was intrigued
by the colour and lustre of its polished surface. The colour was
unlike any he had seen before, white but somehow more than
white, resembling the sea when the suns rays were obliquely
reflected from it at dawn. The object was rounded like a pebble,
but might almost have been a miniature carving of a skull whose
details had been worn away by time.
What is it? Toller said.
Dalacott shook his head. I dont know. Nobody knows. I
found it in Redant province many years ago, on the banks of the
Bes-Undar, and nobody has ever been able to tell me what it
is.
Toller closed his fingers around the warm object and found his
thumb beginning to move in circles on the slick surface. One
question leads to another, sir. Why do you want me to have
this?
Because Dalacott gave him a strange smileyou
might say it brought your mother and I together.
I see, Toller said, speaking mechanically but not untruthfully
as the generals words washed through his mind and, like a
strong clear wave altering the aspect of a beach, rearranged
memory fragments into new designs. The patterns were unfamiliar
and yet not totally strange, because they had been
inherent in the old order, needing only a single rippling disturbance
to make them apparent. There was a long silence broken
only by a faint popping sound as an oilbug blundered against a
lamps flame tube and slid down into the reservoir. Toller gazed
solemnly at his father, trying to conjure up some appropriate
emotion, but inside him there was only numbness.
I dont know what to say to you, he admitted finally. This
has come so . . . late.
Later than you think. Again, Dalacotts expression was
unreadable as he raised the cup of wine to his lips. I had many
reasonssome of them not altogether selfishfor not
acknowledging you, Toller. Do you bear me any ill will?
None, sir.
Im glad. Dalacott rose to his feet. We will not meet again,
Toller. Will you embrace me . . . once . . . as a man embraces
his father?
Father. Toller stood up and clasped his arms around the
sword-straight, elderly figure. During the brief period of contact
he detected a curious hint of spices on his fathers breath. He
glanced down at the cup waiting on the desk, made a half-intuitive
mental leap, and when they parted to resume their seats
there was a prickling in his eyes.
Dalacott seemed calm, fully composed. Now, son, what
comes next for you? Kolcorron and its new allythe ptertha
have achieved their glorious victory. The soldiers work is all
but done, so what have you planned for your future?
I think I wasnt intended to have a future, Toller said.
There was a time when Leddravohr would have slain me in
person, but something happened, something I dont understand.
He placed me in the army and I believe it was his intention that
the Chamtethans would do his work at a remove.
He has a great deal to occupy his thoughts and absorb his
energies, you know, the general said. An entire continent now
has to be looted, merely as a preliminary to the building of Prads
migration fleet. Perhaps Leddravohr has forgotten you.
I havent forgotten him.
Is it to the death?
I used to think so. Toller thought of bloody footprints on
pale mosaic, but the vision had become obscured, overlaid by
hundreds of images of carnage. Now I doubt if the sword is the
answer to anything.
Im relieved to hear you say that. Even though Leddravohrs
heart is not really in the migration plan, he is probably the best
man to see it through to a successful conclusion. It is possible that
the future of our race rests on his shoulders.
Im aware of that possibility, father.
And you also feel you can solve your own problems perfectly
well without my advice. There was a wry twist to the generals
lips. I think I would have enjoyed having you by me. Now, what
about my original question? Have you no thought at all for your
future?
I would like to pilot a ship to Overland, Toller said. But I
think it is a vain ambition.
Why? Your family must have influence.
My brother is the chief advisor on the design of the skyships,
but he is almost as unpopular with Prince Leddravohr as I am.
Is it something you genuinely desire to do, this piloting of a
skyship? Do you actually want to ascend thousands of miles into
the heavens? With only a balloon and a few cords and scraps of
wood to support you?
Toller was surprised by the questions. Why not?
Truly, a new age brings forth new men, Dalacott said softly,
apparently speaking to himself, then his manner became brisk.
You must go nowI have letters to write. I have some
influence with Leddravohr, and a great deal of influence with
Carranald, the head of Army Air Services. If you have the
necessary aptitudes you will pilot a skyship.
Again, father, I dont know what to say. Toller stood up,
but was reluctant to leave. So much had happened in the space of
only a few minutes and his inability to respond was filling him
with a guilty sense of failure. How could he meet and say
goodbye to his father in almost the same breath?
You are not required to say anything, son. Only accept that I
loved your mother, and. . . . Dalacott broke off, looking surprised,
and scanned the interior of the tent as though suspecting
the presence of an intruder.
Toller was alarmed. Are you ill?
Its nothing. The night is too long and dark in this part of the
world.
Perhaps if you lay down, Toller said, starting forward.
General Risdel Dalacott halted him with a look. Leave me
now, lieutenant.
Toller saluted correctly and left the tent. As he was closing the
entrance flap he saw that his father had picked up his pen and had
already begun to write. Toller allowed the flap to fall and the
triangle of wan illuminationan image seeping through the
gauzy folds of probability, of lives unlived and of stories never to
be toldswiftly vanished. He began to weep as he moved away
through the star-canopied dimness. Deep wells of emotion were
at last being tapped, and his tears were all the more copious for
having come too late.
Chapter 13
Marnn Ibbler had been in the army since he was fifteen years
old, andlike many long-serving soldiershad developed a
superb personal alarm system which told him when one of the
globes was near. He was rarely conscious of maintaining
vigilance, but at all times he had a full-circle awareness of his
surroundings, and even when exhausted or drunk he knew as if
by instinct when ptertha were drifting in his vicinity.
Thus it was that he became the first man to receive any inkling
of yet another change in the nature and ways of his peoples
ancient enemy.
He was on night guard at the Third Armys great permanent
base camp at Trompha in southern Middac. The duty was
undemanding. Only a few ancillary units had been left behind
when Kolcorron had invaded Chamteth; the base was close to
the secure heartland of the empire, and nobody but a fool
ventured abroad at night in open countryside.
Ibbler was standing with two young sentries who were complaining
bitterly and at great length about food and pay. He
secretly agreed with them about the formernever in his
experience had army rations been so meagre and hard to stomachbut,
as old soldiers do, he persistently capped every grievance
of theirs with hardship stories from early campaigns. They were
close to the inner screen, beyond which was a thirty-yard buffer
zone and an outer screen. The fertile plains of Middac were
visible through the open meshworks, stretching away to the
western horizon, illuminated by a gibbous Overland.
There was supposed to be no movement in the outer gloamingdiscounting
the near-continuous flickering of shooting
starsso when Ibblers finely attuned senses detected a subtle
shifting of shade upon shade he knew at once that it was a
ptertha. He did not even mention the sighting to his companionsthey
were safe behind the double barrierand he continued
the conversation as before, but a part of his consciousness was
now engaged elsewhere.
A moment later he noticed a second ptertha, then a third, and
within a minute he had picked out eight of the globes, all forming
a single cluster. They were riding out on a gentle north-west
breeze, and they faded from his vision some distance to his right
where parallax merged the vertical strands of the mesh into a
seemingly close-woven fabric.
Ibbler, watchful but still unconcerned, waited for the ptertha,
to reappear in his field of view. On encountering the outer screen
the globes, obeying the dictates of the air current, would nuzzle
their way southwards along the camps perimeter and eventually,
having found no prey, would break free and float off
towards the south-west coast and the Otollan Sea.
On this occasion, however, they seemed to be behaving
unpredictably.
When minutes had passed without the globes becoming visible,
Ibblers young companions noticed that he had dropped out of
the conversation. They were amused when he explained what
was in his thoughts, deciding that the pterthaassuming they
had existed outside Ibblers imaginationmust have entered a
rising air stream and gone over the camps netted roofs. Anxious
to avoid being classed as a nervous old woman, Ibbler allowed
the matter to rest, even though it was rare for the ptertha to fly
high when they were near humans.
On the following morning five diggers were found dead of
pterthacosis in their hut. The soldier who blundered in on them
also died, as did two others he ran to in his panic before the
isolation drills were brought into force and all those thought to
be contaminated were despatched along the Bright Road by
archers.
It was Ibbler who noticed that the diggers hut was close to and
downwind of the point where the group of ptertha would have
reached the perimeter on the night before. He secured an
interview with his commanding officer and put forward the
theory that the ptertha had destroyed themselves against the
outer screen as a group, producing a cloud of toxic dust so
concentrated that it was effective beyond the standard thirty-yard
safety margin. His words were noted with considerable
scepticism, but within days the phenomenon they described had
actually been witnessed at several locations.
None of the subsequent outbreaks of the ptertha plague was as
well-contained as at Trompha, and many hundreds had died
before the authorities realised that the war between the people
of Kolcorron and the ptertha had entered a new phase.
The general population of the empire felt the effect in two
ways. Buffer zones were doubled in size, but there was no longer
any guarantee of their efficacy. A light, steady breeze was the
weather condition most feared, because it could carry invisible
wisps of the ptertha toxin a long way into a community before the
concentration fell below lethal levels. But even in gusty and
variable wind a large enough cluster of ptertha could lay the
stealthy hand of death on a sleeping child, and by morning an
entire family or group household would be affected.
The second factor which accelerated the shrinkage of population
was the further drop in agricultural output. Regions which
had known food shortages began to experience outright famine.
The traditional system of continuous harvesting now worked
against the Kolcorronians because they had never developed any
great expertise in the long-term storage of grain and other edible
crops. Meagre reserves of food rotted or became pest-ridden in
hastily improvised granaries, and diseases unconnected with the
ptertha took their toll of human life.
The work of transferring huge quantities of power crystals
from Chamteth to Ro-Atabri continued throughout the worsening
crisis, but the military organisations did not go unscathed.
Not only were the five armies stood down in Chamteththey
were denied transportation to Kolcorron and the home provinces,
and were ordered to take up permanent residence in the
Land of the Long Days, where the pterthaas though sensing
their vulnerabilityswarmed in ever-increasing numbers. Only
those units concerned with gutting the brakka forests and shipping
out the cargoes of green and purple crystals remained under
the protective umbrella of Leddravohrs high command.
And Prince Leddravohr himself changed.
In the beginning he had accepted the responsibility for the
Overland migration almost solely because of loyalty to his
father, offsetting his private reservations against the opportunity
to conduct an all-out war against Chamteth. Throughout all his
preparation for the building of the fleet of skyships he had
nourished deep within him the belief that the unappealing
venture would never come to fruition, that some less radical
solution to Kolcorrons problems would be found, one which
was more in keeping with the established patterns of human
history.
But above all else he was a realist, a man who understood the
vital importance of balancing ambition and ability, and when he
foresaw the inevitable outcome of the war against the ptertha he
shifted his ground.
The migration to Overland was now part of his personal future
and those about him, sensing his new attitude, understood that
nothing would be allowed to stand in its way.
Chapter 14
He was lightly-built for a member of the military caste, with a
round face and a mouth so wide that there was a visible gap
between each of his smallish teeth. A talent for administration
and an unfailing eye for detail had brought him his appointment
as head of Skyship Experimental Squadron, and he clearly
disliked the idea of permitting a test pilot to leave the
base shortly before the most important proving flight in his
programme.
Ill be back long before that time, sir, Toller said. You
know I wouldnt take the slightest risk in this matter.
Yes, but . . . Do you know that Prince Leddravohr plans to
watch the ascent in person?
All the more reason for me to be back in good time, sir. I
dont want to risk high treason.
Kartkang, still not easy in his mind, squared a sheaf of papers
on his desk. Was Lord Glo important to you?
I was prepared to risk my life in his service.
In that case I suppose you had better pay your last respects,
Kartgang said. But keep it in mind about the prince.
Thank you, sir. Toller saluted and left the office, his mind
a battleground for incompatible emotions. It seemed cruelly
ironic, almost proof of the existence of a malign deity, that Glo
was to be buried on the very day that a skyship was setting out to
prove the feasibility of flying to Overland. The project had been
conceived in Glos brain and had brought him ridicule and
disgrace at first, followed by ignominious retirement, and just as
he was about to receive personal vindication his beleaguered
body had failed him. There would be no plump-bellied statue in
the grounds of the Great Palace, and it was doubtful if Glos
name would even be remembered by the nation he had helped to
establish on another world. Everything should have been very
different.
Visions of the migration fleet touching down on Overland
brought a resurgence of the icy excitement which Toller had
been living with for days. He had been in the grip of his
monomania for so long, working with total commitment towards
selection for the first interplanetary mission, that he had
somehow lost sight of its astonishing realities. His impatience had
slowed the passage of time so much that he had unconsciously
begun to believe his goal would forever remain ahead of him,
flickering beyond reach like a mirage, and nowwith shocking
suddennessthe present had collided with the future.
The time of the great voyage was at hand, and during it
many things would be learned, not all of them to do with the
technicalities of interplanetary flight.
Toller left the S.E.S. administration complex and climbed a
wooden stair to the surface of the plain which extended north of
Ro-Atabri as far as the foothills of the Slaskitan Mountains. He
requisitioned a bluehorn from the stablemaster and set off on the
two-mile ride to Greenmount. The varnished linen of the tunnel-like
covered way glowed in the foreday sunlight, surrounding
him with a yellowish directionless light, and the trapped air was
muggy, heavy with the smell of animal droppings. Most of the
traffic was heading out from the city, flatbed carts laden with
gondola sections and jet cylinders of brakka.
Toller made good time to the eastern junction, entered the
tube leading towards Greenmount and soon reached an area
protected by the older open-mesh screens of the Ro-Atabri
suburbs. He rode through a moraine of abandoned dwellings on
the exposed flank of the hill, eventually reaching the small
private cemetery adjoining the colonnaded west wing of Greenmount Peel.
Several groups of mourners were already in attendance, and
among them he saw his brother and the slender grey-clad figure
of Gesalla Maraquine. It was the first time he had seen her
since the night she had been abused by Leddravohr, more
than a year earlier, and his heart jolted uncomfortably as he
realised he was at a loss as to how to conduct himself with
her.
He dismounted, straightened the embroidered blue jupon of
his skycaptains uniform and walked towards his brother and his
wife, still feeling oddly nervous and self-conscious. On seeing
him approach Lain gave him the calm half-smile, indicative of
family pride tinged with incredulity, which he had used of late
when they met at technical briefings. Toller took pleasure in
having surprised and impressed his older brother with his single-minded
assault on every obstacle, including reading difficulties,
on his way to becoming a skyship pilot.
This is a sad day, he said to Lain.
Gesalla, who had not been aware of his approach, spun round,
one hand flying to her throat. He nodded courteously to her and
withheld a verbal greeting, leaving it to her to accept or decline
the conversational initiative. She returned his nod, silently but
with no visible evidence of her old antipathy and he felt slightly
reassured. In his memory her face had been pared by pregnancy
sickness, but now her cheeks were more fully curved and
touched with pink. She actually looked younger than before and
the sight of her filled his eyes.
He became aware of the pressure of Lains gaze and said,
Why couldnt Glo have had more time?
Lain shrugged, an unexpectedly casual gesture for one who
had been so close to the Lord Philosopher. Have you had
confirmation about the ascent?
Yes. Its at the tenth hour.
I know that. I mean, are you definitely going?
Of course! Toller glanced up at the netted sky and the
nacreous morning crescent of Overland. Im all set to tackle
Glos invisible mountains.
Gesalla looked amused and interested. What does that
mean?
We know the atmosphere thins out between the two
worlds, Toller said. The rate of attenuation has been roughly
measured by sending up gas balloons and observing their
expansion through calibrated telescopes. It is something which
has to be verified by the proving flight, of course, but we
believe the air is plenteous enough to sustain life, even at the
midpoint.
Listen to the newly-fledged expert, Lain said.
Ive had the best teachers, Toller replied, unoffended,
turning his attention back to Gesalla. Lord Glo said the flight
was comparable to climbing to the peak of one invisible mountain
and descending from another.
I never gave him credit for being a poet, Gesalla said.
There are many things for which he will never receive
credit.
Yeslike taking in that gradewife of yours when you went
off to play soldiers, Lain put in. Whatever became of her,
anyway?
Toller gazed at his brother for a moment, puzzled and saddened
by the hint of malice in his tone. Lain had asked him the
same question some time ago, and now it seemed he was
bringing up the subject of Fera for no other reason than that it
had always been a sore point with Gesalla. Was it possible that
Lain was jealous of his little brother having earned a place on
the proving flight, the greatest scientific experiment of the age?
Fera soon got bored with life in the Peel and went back into
the city to live, Toller said. I presume she is in good
circumstancesI hope she isbut I havent tried to find
out. Why do you ask?
Ummm . . . Idle curiosity.
Well, if your curiosity extends as far as my term in the army I
can assure you that the word play is highly inappropriate.
I . . . .
Be quiet, you two, Gesalla said, placing a hand on each
mans arm. The ceremony begins.
Toller fell silent in a fresh confusion of emotions as the burial
party arrived from the direction of the house. In his will Glo had
stated his preference for the shortest and simplest ceremony that
could be accorded a Kolcorronian aristocrat. His cortege consisted
only of Lord Prelate Balountar, followed by four dark-robed
suffragens bearing the cylindrical block of white gypsum
in which Glos body had already been encased. Balountar, with
head thrust forward and black vestments draping a bony figure,
resembled a raven as he slow-marched to the circular hole which
had been bored into the bedrock of the cemetery.
He intoned a short prayer, consigning Lord Glos discarded
shell to the parent body of the planet for reabsorption, and
calling for his spirit to be given a safe passage to Overland,
followed by a fortuitous rebirth and a long and prosperous life on
the sister world.
Toller was troubled by guilt as he watched the lowering of the
cylinder and the sealing of the hole with cement poured from a
decorated urn. He wanted to be torn by sadness and grief on
parting with Glo for ever, but his wayward consciousness was
dominated by the fact that Gesallawho had never touched him
beforehad allowed her hand to remain resting on his arm. Did
it signal a change in her attitude towards him, or was it incidental
to some twist in her relationship with Lain, who in turn had been
acting strangely? And underlying everything else in Tollers
mind was the pounding realisation that he was soon to ascend so
far into the skys blue dome that he would pass beyond the reach
of even the most powerful telescopes.
He was relieved, therefore, when the brief ceremony drew to a
close and the knots of mournersmost of them blood relativesbegan
to disperse.
I must return to the base now, he said. There are many
things yet to be. . . . He left the sentence unfinished as he
noticed that the Lord Prelate had separated himself from his
entourage and was approaching the trio. Assuming that Balountars
business had to be with Lain, Toller took a discreet step
backwards. He was surprised when Balountar came straight to
him, close-set eyes intent and furious, and flicked him on the
chest with loosely dangling fingers.
I remember you, he said, Maraquine! Youre the one who
laid hands on me in the Rainbow Hall, before the King.
He flicked Toller again, clearly intending the gesture to be
offensive.
Well, now that you have evened the score, Toller said
easily, may I be of service to you, my lord?
Yes, you can rid yourself of that uniformit is an offence to
the Church in general and to me in particular.
In what way does it offend?
In every way! The very colour symbolises the heavens, does it
not? It flaunts your intention to defile the High Path, does it not?
Even though your evil ambition will be thwarted, Maraquine,
those blue rags are an affront to every right-thinking citizen of
this country.
I wear this uniform in the service of Kolcorron, my lord. Any
objections you have to that should be presented directly to the
King. Or to Prince Leddravohr.
Huh! Balountar stared venomously for a moment, his face
working with frustrated rage. You wont get away with it, you
know. Even though the likes of you and your brother turn your
backs on the Church, in all your sophistry and arrogance, you
will learn to your cost that the people will stand for just so much.
Youll see! The great blasphemy, the great evil, will not go
unpunished. He spun and strode away to the cemetery gate,
where the four suffragens were waiting.
Toller watched him depart and turned to the others with raised
eyebrows. The Lord Prelate appears to be unhappy.
There was a time when you would have crushed his hand for
doing that. Lain imitated Balountars gesture, flicking limp
fingers against Tollers chest. Do you no longer see red so
easily?
Perhaps I have seen too much red.
Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten? The mockery
in Lains voice was now unmistakable. This is your new role,
isnt it? The man who has drunk too deeply from the cup of
experience.
Lain, I have no inkling of what I have done to earn your
displeasure, and even though Im saddened by it I have no time
now to enquire into the matter. Toller nodded to his brother
and bowed to Gesalla, whose concerned gaze was switching
between the two. He was about to leave when Lain, eyes
deepening with tears, abruptly spread his arms in an embrace
which brought his brother and wife together.
Dont take any foolish risks up there in the sky, little
brother, Lain whispered. Its your family duty to come back
safely, so that when the time of the migration arrives we can all
fly to Overland together. I wont entrust Gesalla to any but the
very best pilot. Do you understand?
Toller nodded, not attempting to speak. The feel of Gesallas
gracile body against his own was asexual, as it had to be, but
there was a rightness to it, and with his brother completing the
psychic circuit there was a sense of comfort and healing, of vital
energies being augmented rather than dissipated.
When Toller broke free of the embrace he felt light and
strong, fully capable of soaring to another world.
Chapter 15
If we wait for perfect conditions well never go. Toller
shaded his eyes from the sun and scanned the blue-white dome of
the sky. Wisps of high cloud had overpainted the brighter stars
without screening them from view, and the broad crescent of
illumination on Overlands disk established the time as mid-foreday.
I suppose thats true, but youre going to have trouble with
false lift when you clear the enclosure. Youll need to watch out
for it.
Toller grinned. Isnt it a little late for lessons in aerodynamics?
Its all very well for youIm the one whos going to have to
do all the explaining if you kill yourself, Armduran said drily.
He was a spiky haired man whose flattened nose and sword-scarred
chin gave him something of the appearance of a retired
soldier, but his practical engineering genius had led to his
personal appointment by Prince Chakkell. Toller liked him for
his caustic humour and lack of condescension towards less gifted
subordinates.
For your sake, Ill try not to get killed. Toller had to raise his
voice to overcome the noise in the enclosure. Members of the
inflation crew were busily cranking a large fan whose gears and
wooden blades emitted a continuous clacking sound as they
forced unheated air into the skyships balloon, which had been
laid out downwind of the gondola. They were creating a cavity
within the envelope so that hot gas from the power crystal burner
could later be introduced without it having to impinge directly on
the lightweight material. The technique had been developed to
avoid burn damage, especially to the base panels around the
balloon mouth. Overseers were bellowing orders to the men who
were holding up the sides of the gradually swelling balloon and
paying out attachment lines.
The square, room-sized gondola was lying on its side, already
provisioned for the flight. In addition to food, drink and fuel it
contained sandbags equivalent to the weight of sixteen people
which, when taken with the weight of the test crew, brought the
load up to the operational maximum. The three men who were
to fly with Toller were standing by the gondola, ready to leap on
board on command. He knew the ascent had to begin within a
matter of minutes, and the emotional turmoil connected with
Lain and Gesalla and Glos burial was steadily fading to a
murmur in lower levels of his consciousness. In his mind he was
already voyaging in the ice-blue unknown, like a migrating soul,
and his preoccupations were no longer those of an ordinary
Land-bound mortal.
There was a sound of hoofbeats nearby and he turned to see
Prince Leddravohr riding into the enclosure, followed by an
open carriage in which sat Prince Chakkell, his wife Daseene and
their three children. Leddravohr was dressed as for a military
ceremony, wearing a white cuirass. The inevitable battle sword
was at his side and a long throwing knife was sheathed on his left
forearm. He dismounted from his tall bluehorn, head turning as
he took in every detail of the surrounding activity, and padded
towards Toller and Armduran.
Toller had not seen him at all during his time in the army and
only at a distance since returning to Ro-Atabri, and he noted
that the princes glossy black hair was now tinged with grey at the
temples. He was also a little heavier, but the weight appeared to
have been added in an even subcutaneous layer all over his body,
doing little more than blur the muscle definition and render the
statuesque face smoother than ever. Toller and Armduran
saluted as he approached.
Leddravohr nodded in acknowledgement. Well, Maraquine,
you have become an important man since last we met. I trust it
has made you somewhat easier to live with.
I dont class myself as important, Prince, Toller said in a
carefully neutral voice, trying to gauge Leddravohrs attitude.
But you are! The first man to take a ship to Overland! Its a
great honour, Maraquine, and you have worked hard for it. You
know, there were some who felt that you were too young and
inexperienced for this mission, that it should have been
entrusted to an officer with a long Air Service career behind him,
but I overruled them. You obtained the best results in the
training courses, and youre not encumbered with an aircaptains
obsolete skills and habits, and you are a man of undoubted
courageso I decreed that the captaincy of the proving flight
should be yours,
What do you think of that?
Im deeply grateful to you, Prince, Toller said.
Gratitude isnt called for. Leddravohrs old smile, the smile
which had nothing to do with amity, flickered on his face for an
instant and was gone. It is only just that you should receive the
fruits of your labours.
Toller understood at once that nothing had changed, that
Leddravohr was still the deadly enemy who never forgot or
forgave. There was a mystery surrounding the princes apparent
forbearance of the last year, but no doubt at all that he still
hungered for Tollers life. He hopes the flight will fail! He hopes
he is sending me to my death!
The intuition gave Toller a sudden new insight into Leddravohrs
mind. Analysing his own feelings towards the prince he
now found nothing but a cool indifference, with perhaps the
beginnings of pity for a creature so imprisoned by negative
emotion, awash and drowning in its own venom.
Im grateful nevertheless, Toller said, relishing the private
double meaning of his words. He had been apprehensive about
coming face to face with Leddravohr again, but the encounter
had proved that he had transcended his old self, truly, once and
for all. From now on his spirit would soar as far above Leddravohr
and his kind as the skyship was soon to do over the
continents and oceans of Land, and that was genuine cause for
rejoicing.
Leddravohr scanned his face for a moment, searchingly, then
transferred his attention to the skyship. The inflation crew had
progressed to the stage of raising the balloon up on the four
acceleration struts which constituted the principal difference
between it and a craft designed for normal atmospheric flight.
Now three-quarters full, the balloon sagged among the struts
like some grotesque leviathan deprived of the support of its
natural medium. The varnished linen skin flapped feebly in
the mild air currents coming through the perforations in the
enclosure wall.
If Im not mistaken, Leddravohr said, it is time for you to
join your ship, Maraquine.
Toller saluted him, squeezed Armdurans shoulder and ran to
the gondola. He gave a signal and Zavotle, co-pilot and recorder
for the flight, swung himself on board. He was closely followed
by Rillomyner, the mechanic, and the diminutive figure of
Flenn, the rigger. Toller went in after them, taking his position at
the burner. The gondola was still on its side, so he had to lie on
his back against a woven cane partition to operate the burners
controls.
The trunk of a very young brakka tree had been used in its
entirety to form the main component of the burner. On the left
side of the bulbous base was a small hopper filled with pikon,
plus a valve which admitted the crystals to the combustion
chamber under pneumatic pressure. On the opposite side a
similar device controlled the flow of halvell, and both valves
were operated by a single lever. The passageways in the right-hand
valve were slightly enlarged, automatically providing the
greater proportion of halvell which had been found best for
providing sustained thrust.
Toller pumped the pneumatic reservoir by hand, then signalled
to the inflation supervisor that he was ready to begin
burning. The noise level in the enclosure dropped as the fan crew
ceased cranking and pulled their cumbersome machine and its
nozzle aside.
Toller advanced the control lever for about a second. There
was a hissing roar as the power crystals combined, firing a burst
of hot miglign gas into the balloons gaping mouth. Satisfied with
the burners performance, he instigated a series of blasts
keeping them brief to reduce the risk of heat damage to the
balloon fabricand the great envelope began to distend and lift
clear of the ground. As it gradually rose to the vertical position
the crew holding the balloons crown lines came walking in and
attached them to the gondolas load frame, while others rotated
the gondola until it was in the normal attitude. All at once the
skyship was ready to fly, only held down by its central anchor.
Mindful of Armdurans warning about false lift, Toller
continued burning for another full minute, and as the hot gas
displaced more and more unheated air through the balloon
mouth the entire assemblage began to strain upwards. Finally,
too intent on his work to feel any sense of occasion, he pulled the
anchor link and the skyship left the ground.
It rose quickly at first, then the curved crown of the balloon
entered the wind above the enclosure walls, generating such a
fierce extra lift that Rillomyner gasped aloud as the ship accelerated
skywards. Toller, undeceived by the phenomenon, fired a
long blast from the burner. In a few seconds the balloon had fully
entered the airstream and was travelling with it, and as the
relative airflow across the top dropped to zero the extra lift also
disappeared.
At the same time, a rippling distortion caused by the initial
impact of the wind expelled some gas back out through the
mouth of the balloon, and now the ship was actually losing height
as it was borne away to the east at some ten miles an hour. The
speed was not great compared to what other forms of transport
could achieve, but the airship was designed for vertical travel
only and any contact with the ground at that stage was likely to
be disastrous.
Toller fought the unintentional descent with prolonged burns.
For a tense minute the gondola headed straight for the line of
elvart trees at the eastern edge of the airfield as though attached
to an invisible rail, then the balloons buoyancy began to reassert
itself. The ground slowly sank away and Toller was able to rest
the burner. Looking back towards the line of enclosures, some of
which were still under construction, he was able to pick out
the white gleam of Leddravohrs cuirass among the hundreds
of spectators, butalreadythe prince seemed to be part
of his past, his psychological importance diminishing with
perspective.
Would you like to make a note? Toller said to Ilven
Zavotle. It appears that the maximum wind speed for take off
with full load is in the region of ten miles an hour. Also, those
trees should go.
Zavotle glanced up briefly from the wicker table at his station.
Im already doing it, captain. He was a narrow-headed
youngster with tiny clenched ears and a permanent frown, as
fussy and fastidious in his ways as a very old man, but already a
veteran of several test flights.
Toller glanced around the square gondola, checking that all
was well. Mechanic Rillomyner had slumped down on the
sandbags in one of the passenger compartments, looking pale of
face and distinctly sorry for himself. Ree Flenn, the rigger, was
perched like some arboreal animal on the gondolas rail, busily
shortening the tether on one of the free-hanging acceleration
struts. Tollers stomach produced a chill spasm as he saw that
Flenn had not secured his personal line to the rail.
What do you think youre doing, Flenn? he said. Get your
line attached.
I can work better without it, captain. A grin split the riggers
bead-eyed, button-nosed face. Im not afraid of heights.
Would you like something to be afraid of? Toller spoke
mildly, almost courteously, but Flenns grin faded at once and he
snapped his karabiner on to the brakka rail. Toller turned away
to hide his amusement. Capitalising on his dwarfish stature and
comic appearance, Flenn habitually breached discipline in ways
which would have earned the lash for other men, but he was
highly expert at his work and Toller had been glad to accept
him for the flight. His own background inclined him to be
sympathetic towards rebels and misfits.
By now the ship was climbing steadily above the western
suburbs of Ro-Atabri. The citys familiar configurations were
blurred and dulled by the blanket of anti-ptertha screens which
had spread over it like some threaded mould, but the vistas of
Arle Bay and the Gulf were as Toller remembered them from
childhood aerial excursions. Their nostalgic blue faded into a
purple haze near the horizon above which, subdued by sunlight,
shone the nine stars of the Tree.
Looking down, Toller was able to see the Great Palace, on the
south bank of the Borann, and he wondered if King Prad could
be at a window at that very moment, gazing up at the fragile
assemblage of fabric and wood which represented his stake in
posterity. Since appointing his son to the position of absolute
power the King had become a virtual recluse. Some said that his
health had deteriorated, others that he had no heart for skulking
like a furtive animal in the shrouded streets of his own capital
city.
Surveying the complex and variegated scene beneath him,
Toller was surprised to discover that he felt little emotion. He
seemed to have severed his bonds with the past by taking the first
step along the five-thousand-mile high road to Overland.
Whether he would in fact reach the sister planet on a later flight
and begin a new life there was a matter for the futureand his
present was bounded by the tiny world of the skyship. The
microcosm of the gondola, only four good paces on a side, was
destined to be his whole universe for more than twenty days, and
he could have no other commitments. . . .
Tollers meditation came to an abrupt end when he noticed a
purplish mote drifting against the white-feathered sky some
distance to the north-west.
On your feet, Rillomyner, he called out. Its time you
started earning your pay on this trip.
The mechanic stood up and came out of the passenger compartment.
Im sorry, captainthe way we took off did
something to my gut.
Get on to the cannon if you dont want to be really sick,
Toller said. We might be having a visitor soon.
Rillomyner swore and lurched towards the nearest cannon.
Zavotle and Flenn followed suit without needing to be ordered.
There were two of the anti-ptertha guns mounted on each side of
the gondola, their barrels made of thin strips of brakka bonded
into tubes by glass cords and resin. Below each weapon was a
magazine containing glass power capsules and a supply of the
latest type of projectilehinged bundles of wooden rods which
opened radially in flight. They demanded better accuracy than
the older scattering weapons, but compensated with improved
range.
Toller remained at the pilots station and fired intermittent
bursts of heat into the balloon to maintain the rate of climb. He
was not unduly concerned about the lone ptertha and had issued
his warning as much to rouse Rillomyner as anything else. As far
as was known, the globes depended on air currents to transport
them over long distances, and only moved horizontally of their
own volition when close to their prey. How they obtained
impulsion over the final few yards was still a mystery, but one
theory was that a ptertha had already begun the process of
self-destruction at that stage by creating a small orifice in its
surface at the point most distant from the victim. Expulsion of
internal gases would propel the globe to within the killing radius
before the entire structure disintegrated and released its charge
of toxic dust. The process remained a matter for conjecture
because of the impossibility of studying ptertha at close range.
In the present case the globe was about four-hundred yards
from the ship and was likely to stay at that distance because the
positions of both were governed by the same air-flow. Toller
knew, however, that the one component of their motion over
which the ptertha had good control was in the vertical dimension.
Observation through calibrated telescopes showed that a
ptertha could govern its attitude by increasing or decreasing its
size, thus altering its density, and Toller was interested in
carrying out a double experiment which might be of value to the
migration fleet.
Keep your eye on the globe, he said to Zavotle. It seems to
be keeping on a level with us, and if it is that proves it can sense
our presence over that distance. I also want to find out how high
it will go before giving up.
Very good, captain. Zavotle raised his binoculars and
settled down to studying the ptertha.
Toller glanced around his circumscribed domain, trying to
imagine how much more cramped its dimensions would seem
with a full complement of twenty people on board. The passenger
accommodation consisted of two narrow compartments, at
opposite sides of the gondola for balance, bounded by chest-high
partitions. Nine or so people would be crammed into each,
unable either to lie down properly or move around, and by the
end of the long voyage their physical condition was likely to be
poor.
One corner of the gondola was taken up by the galley, and the
diagonally opposite one by the primitive toilet, which was
basically a hole in the floor plus some sanitation aids. The centre of
the floor was occupied by the four crew stations surrounding the
burner unit and the downward facing drive jet. Most of the
remaining space was filled by the pikon and halvell magazines,
which were also at opposite sides of the gondola, with the food
and drink stores and various equipment lockers.
Toller could foresee the interplanetary crossing, like so many
other historic and glorious adventures, being conducted in
squalor and degradation, becoming a test of physical and mental
endurance which not all would survive.
In contrast to the meanness and compression of the gondola,
the upper element of the skyship was awesomely spacious,
rarified, a giant form almost without substance. The linen panels
of the envelope had been dyed dark brown to absorb the suns
heat and thereby gain extra lift, but when Toller looked up into it
through the open mouth he could see light glowing through the
material. The seams and horizontal and vertical load tapes
appeared as a geometric web of black lines, emphasising the
vastness of the balloons curvatures. Up there was the gossamer
dome of a cloud-borne cathedral, impossible to associate with
the handiwork of mere weavers and stitchers.
Satisfied that the ship was stable and ascending steadily, Toller
gave the order for the four acceleration struts to be drawn in and
attached by their lower ends to the corners of the gondola. Renn
completed the task within a few minutes, imparting to the
balloon/gondola assemblage the slight degree of structural stiffness
needed to cope with the modest forces which would act on it
when the drive or attitude jets were in use.
Attached to a lashing hook at the pilots station was the rip
line, dyed red, which ran up through the balloon to a crown
panel which could be torn out for rapid deflation. As well as
being a safety device it served as a rudimentary climb speed
indicator, becoming slack when the crown was depressed by a
strong vertical air flow. Toller fingered the line and estimated
that they were ascending at about twelve miles an hour, aided by
the fact that the miglign gas was slightly lighter than air even
when unheated. Later he would almost double that speed by
using the drive jet when the ship entered the regions of low
gravity and attenuated air.
Thirty minutes into the flight the ship was high above the
summit of Mount Opelmer and had ceased its eastward drift.
The garden province of Kail stretched to the southern horizon,
its strip farms registering as a shimmering mosaic, with each
tessera striated in six different shades varying from yellow to
green. To the west was the Otollan Sea and to the east was the
Mirlgiver Ocean, their curving blue reaches flecked here and
there by sailing ships. The ochraceous mountains of Upper
Kolcorron filled the view to the north, their ranges and folds
compacted by perspective. A few airships gleamed like tiny
elliptical jewels as they plied the trade lanes far below.
From an altitude of some six miles the face of Land looked
placid and achingly beautiful. Only the relative scarcity of
airships and sailing craft indicated that the entire prospect,
apparently drowsing in benign sunlight, was actually a battle-ground,
an arena in which mankind had fought and lost a deadly
duel.
Toller, as had become his habit when deep in thought, located
the curiously massive object given to him by his father and
rubbed his thumb over its gleaming surface. In the normal course
of history, he wondered, how many centuries would men have
waited before essaying the voyage to Overland? Indeed, would
they ever have done so had they not been fleeing from the
ptertha?
The thought of the ancient and implacable enemy prompted
him to cast around and check on the position of the solitary globe
he had detected earlier. Its lateral separation from the ship had
not changed and, more significantly, it was still matching the rate
of climb. Was that proof of sentience and purpose? If so, why
had the ptertha as a species singled out man as the focus of its
hostility? Why was it that every other creature on Land, with the
exception of the Sorka gibbon, was immune to pterthacosis?
As though sensing Tollers renewed interest in the globe,
Zavotle lowered his binoculars and said, Does it look bigger to
you, captain?
Toller picked up his own glasses and studied the purple-black
smudge, finding that its transparency defied his attempts to
define its boundaries. Hard to say.
Littlenight will be here soon, Zavotle commented. I dont
relish the idea of having that thing hanging around us in the
dark.
I dont think it can close inthe ship is almost the same
shape as a ptertha, and our response to a crosswind will be
roughly similar.
I hope youre right, Zavotle said gloomily.
Rillomyner looked round from his post at a cannon and said,
We havent eated since dawn, captain. He was a pale and
pudgy young man with an enormous appetite for even the vilest
food, and it was said that he had actually gained weight since the
beginning of the shortages by scavenging all the substandard
food rejected by his workmates. In spite of a show of diffidence,
he was a good mechanic and intensely proud of his skills.
Im glad to hear your gut is back to its normal condition,
Toller said. I would hate to think I had done it some permanent
mischief with my handling of the ship.
I didnt mean to criticise the take-off, captainits just that I
have always been cursed with this weak stomach.
Toller clicked his tongue in mock sympathy and glanced at
Flenn. Youd better feed this man before he becomes faint.
Right away, captain. As Flenn was getting to his feet his
shirt parted at the chest and the green-striped head of a carble
peered out. •Flenn hastily covered the furry creature with his
hand and pushed it back into concealment.
What have you got there? Toller snapped.
Her name is Tinny, captain. Flenn brought the carble out
and cradled it in his arms. There was nobody I could leave her
with.
Toller sighed his exasperation. This is a scientific mission,
not a . . . Do you realise that most commanders would put that
animal over the side?
I swear she wont be any trouble, captain.
Shed better not. Now get the food.
Flenn grinned and, agile as a monkey, disappeared into the
galley to prepare the first meal of the voyage. He was small
enough to be completely hidden by the woven partition which
was chest high to the rest of the crew. Toller settled down to
refining his control over the ships ascent.
Deciding to increase speed, he lengthened the burns from
three to four seconds and watched for the time-lagged response
of the balloon overhead. Several minutes went by before the
extra lift he was generating overcame the inertia of the many
tons of gas inside the envelope and the rip line became noticeably
slacker. Satisfied with a new rate of climb of around
eighteen miles an hour, he concentrated on making the burner
rhythmfour seconds on and twenty offpart of his awareness,
something to be paced by the internal clocks of his heart
and lungs. He needed to be able to detect the slightest variation
in it even when he was asleep and being spelled at the controls by
Zavotle.
The food served up by Flenn was from the limited fresh
supplies and was better than Toller had expectedstrips of
reasonably lean beef in gravy, pulse, fried grain-cakes and
beakers of hot green tea. Toller stopped operating the burner
while he ate, allowing the ship to coast upwards in silence on
stored lift. The heat emanating from the black combustion
chamber mingled with the aromatic vapours issuing from the
galley, turning the gondola into a homely oasis in a universe of
azure emptiness.
Partway through the meal littlenight came sweeping from the
west, a brief flash of rainbow colours preceding a sudden darkness,
and as the crews eyes adjusted the heavens blazed into life
all around them. They reacted to the unearthliness of their
situation by generating an intense camaraderie. There was an
unspoken conviction that lifelong friendships were being
formed, and in that atmosphere every anecdote was interesting,
every boast believable, every joke profoundly funny. And even
when the talk eventually died away, stilled by strangeness,
communication continued on another plane.
Toller was set apart to some extent by the responsibilities of
command, but he was warmed nonetheless. From his seated
position the rim of the gondola was at eye level, which meant
there was nothing to be seen beyond it but enigmatic whirlpools
of radiance, the splayed mist-fans of comets, and stars and stars
and ever more stars. The only sound was the occasional creak of
a rope, and the only sensible movement was where the meteors
scribed their swift-fading messages on the blackboard of night.
Toller could easily imagine himself adrift in the beaconed
depths of the universe, and all at once, unexpectedly, there came
the longing to have a woman at his side, a female presence which
would somehow make the voyage meaningful. It would have
been good to be with Fera at that moment, but her essential
carnality would scarcely have been hi accord with his mood. The
right woman would have been one who was capable of enhancing
the mystical qualities of the experience. Somebody like. . . .
Toller reached out with his imagination, blindly, wistfully. For
an instant the feel of Gesalla Maraquines slim body against
his own was shockingly real. He leapt to his feet, guilty and
confused, disturbing the equilibrium of the gondola.
Is anything wrong, captain? Zavotle said, barely visible in
the darkness.
Nothing. A touch of cramp, thats all. You take over the
burner for a while. Four-twenty is what we want.
Toller went to the side of the gondola and leaned on the rail.
What is happening to me now? he thought. Lain said I was
playing a rolebut how did he know? The new cool and imperturbable
Toller Maraquine. . . the man who has drunk too deeply
from the cup of experience . . . who looks down on princes . . .
who is undaunted by the chasm between the worlds. . . and who,
because his brothers solewife does no more than touch his arm, is
immediately smitten with adolescent fantasies about her! Was
Lain, with that frightening perception of his, able to see me for the
betrayer that I am? Is that why he seemed to turn against me?
The darkness below the skyship was absolute, as though Land
had already been deserted by all of humanity, but as Toller gazed
down into it a thin line of red, green and violet fire appeared on
the western horizon. It widened, growing increasingly brilliant,
and suddenly a tide of pure light was sweeping across the world
at heart-stopping speed, recreating oceans and land masses in all
their colour and intricate detail. Toller almost flinched in expectation
of a palpable blow as the speeding terminator reached
the ship, engulfing it in fierce sunlight, and rushed on to the
eastern horizon. The columnar shadow of Overland had completed
its daily transit of Kolcorron, and Toller felt that he had
emerged from yet another occultation, a littlenight of the mind.
Dont worry, beloved brother, he thought. Even in my
thoughts Ill never betray you. Not ever!
Ilven Zavotle stood up at the burner and looked out to the
north-west. What do you think of the globe now, captain? Is it
bigger or closer? Or both?
It might be a little closer, Toller said, glad to have an
external focus for this thoughts, as he trained his binoculars on
the ptertha. Can you feel the ship dancing a little? There could
be some churning of warmer and cooler air as littlenight passes,
and it might have worked out to the globes advantage.
Its still on a level with useven though we changed our
speed.
Yes. I think it wants us.
I know what I want, Flenn announced as he slipped by
Toller on his way to the toilet. Im going to have the honour of
being the first to try out the long dropand I hope it all lands
right on old Puehilter. He had nominated an overseer whose
petty tyrannies had made him unpopular with the S.E.S. flight
technicians.
Rillomyner snorted in approval. Thatll give him something
worth complaining about, for once.
Itll be worse when you gotheyre going to have to
evacuate the whole of Ro-Atabri when you start bombing them.
Just take care you dont fall down the hole, Rillomyner
growled, not appreciating the reference to his dietary foibles. It
wasnt designed for midgets.
Toller made no comment about the exchange. He knew the
two were testing him to see what style of command he was going
to favour on the voyage. A strict interpretation of flight
regulations would have precluded any badinage at all among his
crew, let alone grossness, but he was solely concerned with their
qualities of efficiency, loyalty and courage. In a couple of hours
the ship would be higher than any had gone beforeif one
discounted the semi-mythical Usader of five centuries earlierentering
a region of strangeness, and he could foresee the little
group of adventurers needing every human support available to
them.
Besides, the same subject had given rise to a thousand equally
coarse jokes in the officers quarters, ever since the utilitarian
design of the skyship gondola had become common knowledge.
He himself had derived a certain amusement from the frequency
with which ground-based personnel had reminded him that the
toilet was not to be used until the prevailing westerlies had
carried the ship well clear of the base. . . .
The bursting of the ptertha took Toller by surprise.
He was gazing at the globes magnified image when it simply
ceased to exist, and in the absence of a contrasting background
there was not even a dissipating smudge of dust to mark its
location. In spite of his confidence in their ability to deal with the
threat, he nodded in satisfaction. Sleep was going to be difficult
enough during the first night aloft without having to worry about
capricious air currents bringing the silent enemy to within its
killing radius.
Make a note that the ptertha has just popped itself out of
existence, he said to Zavotle, andexpressing his reliefadded
a personal comment. Put down that it happened about four hours
into the flight . . . just as Flenn was using the toilet . . . but
that there is probably no connection between the two events.
You should have a look at this, captain, Zavotle said,
raising his narrow head. The height gauge actually does
work!
Toller insinuated his legs into the cramped central floorspace
and went to the pilots station, where Flenn and Rillomyner were
standing beside Zavotle. At the station was a lightweight table,
attached to which was the height gauge. The latter consisted of
nothing more than a vertical scale, from the top of which a small
weight was suspended by a delicate coiled spring made from a
hair-like shaving of brakka. On the previous morning, at the
beginning of the flight, the weight had been opposite to the
lowest mark on the scalebut now it was several divisions
higher.
Toller stared hard at the gauge. Has anybody interfered with
it?
Nobody has touched it, Zavotle assured him. It means that
everything they told us must be true. Everything is getting lighter
as we go higher! Were getting lighter!
Thats to be expected, Toller said, unwilling to admit that in
his heart he had never quite accepted the notion, even when Lain
had taken time to impress the theory on him in private tutorials.
Yes, but it means that in three or four days from now we
wont weigh anything at all. Well be able to float around in the
air like . . . like . . . ptertha! Its all true, captain!
How high does it say we are?
About three-hundred-and-fifty milesand that agrees well
with our computations.
I dont feel any different, Rillomyner put in. I say the
spring has tightened up.
Flenn nodded. Me too.
Toller wished for time in which to arrange his thoughts. He
went to the side of the gondola and experienced a whirling
moment of vertigo as he saw Land as he had never seen it
beforean immense circular convexity, one half in
near-darkness, the other a brilliant sparkling of blue ocean and subtly
shaded continents and islands.
Things would be quite different if you were lifting off from the
centre ofChamteth and heading out into open space, Lains voice
echoed in his mind. But when travelling between the two worlds
you will soon reach a middle zoneslightly closer to Overland
than to Land, in factwhere the gravitational pull of each planet
cancels out the other. In normal conditions, with the gondola
being heavier than the balloon, the ship has pendulum stabilitybut
where neither has any weight the ship will be unstable and
you will have to use the lateral jets to control its attitude.
Lain had already completed the entire journey in his mind,
Toller realised, and everything he had predicted would come to
pass. Truly, they were entering a region of strangeness, but the
intellects of Lain Maraquine and other men like him had already
marked the way, and they had to be trusted. . . .
Dont get so excited that you lose the burn rhythm, Toller
said calmly, turning to Zavotle. And dont forget to check the
height gauge readings by measuring the apparent diameter of
Land four times a day.
He directed his gaze at Rillomyner and Flenn. And as for you
twowhy did the Squadron take the trouble to send you to
special classes? The spring has not altered in strength. Were
getting lighter as we get higher, and I will treat any disputing of
that fact as insubordination. Is that clear?
Yes, captain.
Both men spoke in unison, but Toller noticed a troubled look
in Rillomyners eyes, and he wondered if the mechanic was going
to have difficulty in adjusting to his increasing weightlessness.
This is what the proving flight is for, he reminded himself. We
are testing ourselves as much as the ship.
When a small object was allowed to drop it fell to the floor of
the gondola with evident slowness, and all members of the
crew reported curious sinking sensations in their stomachs. On
two occasions Rillomyner awoke from sleep with a panicky
shout, explaining afterwards that he had been convinced he was
falling.
Toller noticed the dreamlike ease with which he could move
about, and it came to him that it would soon be advisable for the
crew to remain tethered at all times. The idea of an unnecessarily
vigorous movement separating a man from the ship was one he
did not like to contemplate.
He also observed that, in spite of its decreased weight, the ship
was tending to rise more slowly. The effect had been accurately
predicteda result of the fading weight differential between the
hot gas inside the envelope and the surrounding atmosphere. To
maintain speed he altered the burn rhythm to four-eighteen, and
then to four-sixteen. The pikon and halvell hoppers on the
burner were being replenished with increasing frequency and,
although there were ample reserves, Toller began to look forward
to reaching the altitude of thirteen-hundred miles. At that
point the ships weight, decreasing by squares, would be only a
fourth of normal, and it would become more economical to
change over to jet power until the zone of zero gravity had been
passed.
The need to interpret every action and event in the dry
languages of mathematics, engineering and science conflicted
with Tollers natural response to his new environment. He found
he could spend long periods leaning on the rim of the gondola,
not moving a muscle, mesmerised, all physical energies annulled
by pure awe. Overland was directly above him, but screened
from view by the patient, untiring vastness of the balloon; and
far below was the home world, gradually becoming a place of
mystery as its familiar features were blurred by a thousand miles
of intervening air.
By the third day of the ascent the sky, although retaining its
normal coloration above and below, was shading on all sides of
the ship into a deeper blue which glistered with ever-increasing
numbers of stars.
When Toller was lost in his tranced vigils the conversation of
the crew members and even the roar of the burner faded from his
consciousness, and he was alone in the universe, sole possessor
of all its scintillant hoards. Once during the hours of darkness,
while he was standing at the pilots station, he saw a meteor
strike across the sky below the ship. It traced a line of fire from
what seemed to be one edge of infinity to the other, and minutes
after its passing there came a single pulse of low-frequency
soundblurred, dull and mournfulcausing the ship to give a
tentative heave which drew a murmur of protest from one of the
sleeping men. Some instinct, a kind of spiritual acquisitiveness,
prompted Toller to keep the knowledge of the event from the
others.
As the ascent continued Zavotle was kept busy with his
copious flight records, many of the entries concerned with
physiological effects. Even at the summit of the highest mountain
on Land there was no discernible drop in air pressure, but on
previous high-altitude sorties by balloon some crew members
had reported a hint of thinness to the air and the need to breathe
more deeply. The effect had been slight and the best scientific
estimate was that the atmosphere would continue to support life
midway between the two planets, but it was vital that the
predication should be verified.
Toller was almost comforted by the feel of his lungs working
harder during the third daymore evidence that the problems
of interworld flight had been correctly foreseenand he was
therefore less than happy when an unexpected phenomenon
forced itself on his attention. For some time he had been aware
of feeling cold, but had dismissed the matter from his thoughts.
Now, however, the others in the gondola were complaining almost
continuously and the conclusion was inescapableas
the ship gained altitude the surrounding air was growing colder.
The S.E.S. scientists, Lain Maraquine included, had been of
the opinion that there would be an increase in temperature as the
ship entered ratified air which would be less able to screen it
from the suns rays. As a native of equatorial Kolcorron, Toller
had never experienced really severe coldness, and he had
thought nothing of setting off on the interplanetary voyage clad
in only a shirt, breeches and sleeveless jupon. Now, although not
actually shivering, he was continuously aware of the increasing
discomfort and a dismaying thought was beginning to lurk in his
mindthat the entire flight might have to be abandoned for the
lack of a bale of wool.
He gave permission for the crew to wear all their spare
clothing under their uniforms, and for Flenn to brew tea on
demand. The latter decision, far from improving the situation,
led to a series of arguments. Time after time Rillomyner insisted
that Flenn, acting out of malice or ineptitude, was either infusing
the tea before the water had boiled properly or was allowing it to
cool before serving it around. It was only when Zavotle, who had
also been dissatisfied, kept a critical eye on the brewing process
that the truth emergedthe water had begun to boil before it
had reached the appropriate temperature. It was hot, but not
boiling hot.
Im worried about this finding, captain, Zavotle said as he
completed the relevant entry in the log. The only explanation I
can think of is that as the water gets lighter it boils at a
progressively lower temperature. And if that is the case, what is
going to happen to us when the weight of everything fades away
to nothing? Is the spit going to boil in our mouths? Are we going
to piss steam?
We would be obliged to turn back before you had to suffer
that indignity, Toller said, showing his displeasure at the other
mans negative attitude, but I dont think it will come to that.
There must be some other reasonperhaps something to do
with the air.
Zavotle looked dubious. I dont see how air could affect
water.
Neither do Iso Im not wasting time on useless speculation,
Toller said curtly. If you want something to occupy
your mind take a close look at the height gauge. It says were
eleven-hundred miles upand if that is correct we have been
seriously underestimating our speed all day.
Zavotle studied the gauge, fingered the rip line and looked up
into the balloon, the interior of which was growing dim and
mysterious with the onset of dusk. Now that could be something
to do with the air, he said. I think that what you have
discovered is that thinner air would depress the crown of the
envelope less at speed and make it seem that were going slower
than we actually are.
Toller considered the proposition and smiled. You worked
that outand I didntso give yourself credit for it in the
record. Id say youre going to be the senior pilot on your next
flight.
Thanks, captain, Zavotle said, looking gratified.
Its no more than you deserve. Toller touched Zavotle on
the shoulder, making tacit reparation for his irritability. At this
rate well have passed the thirteen-hundred mark by dawn
then we can take a rest from the burner and see how the ship
handles on the jet.
Later, while he was settling down on the sandbags to sleep, he
went over the exchange in his mind and identified the true cause
of the ill temper he had vented on Zavotle. It had been the
accumulation of unforeseen phenomenathe increasing coldness,
the odd behaviour of the water, the misleading indication
of the balloons speed. It had been the growing realisation that
he had placed too much faith in the predictions of scientists.
Lain, in particular, had been proved wrong in three different
respects, and if his vaulting intellect had been defeated so
soonon the very edge of the region of strangenessnobody
could know what lay in store for those setting out along the
perilous fractured glass bridge to another world.
Until that moment, Toller discovered, he had been naively
optimistic about the future, convinced that the proving flight
would lead to a successful migration and the foundation of a
colony in which those he cared about would lead lives of endless
fulfilment. It was chastening to realise that the vision had been
largely based on his own egotism, that fate had no obligation
to honour the safe conducts he had assigned to people like Lain
and Gesalla, that events could come to pass regardless of his
considering them unthinkable.
All at once the future had clouded over with uncertainty and
danger.
And in the new order of things, Toller thought as he drifted
into sleep, one had to learn to interpret a new kind of portent.
Day-to-day trivia . . . the degree of slackness in a cord . . .
bubbles in a pot of water . . . These were niggardly omens . . .
whispered warnings, almost too faint to hear. . . .
Toller, intrigued by the lightness of his body, tested the
conditions by jumping, but it was an experiment he tried only
once. He rose much higher than he had intended and for a
moment as he seemed to hang in the air there was a terrible
feeling of having parted from the ship for ever. The open
gondola, with its chest-high walls, was revealed as a flimsy edifice
whose pared-down struts and wicker panels were quite inadequate
for their purpose. He had time to visualise what would
happen if a floor section gave way when he landed on it, plunging
him into the thin blue air fourteen-hundred miles above the
surface of the world.
It would take a long time to fall that distance, fully conscious,
with nothing to do but watch the planet unfurl hungrily below
him. Even the bravest man would eventually have to begin
screaming. . . .
We seem to have lost a good bit of speed during the night,
captain, Zavotle reported from the pilots station. The rip line
is getting quite tautthough, of course, you cant rely on it
much any more.
Its time for the jet, anyway, Toller said. From now on,
until turn-over, well use the burner only enough to keep the
balloon inflated. Wheres Rillomyner?
Here, captain. The mechanic emerged from the other
passenger compartment. His pudgy figure was partially doubled
over, he was clutching the partitions and his gaze was fixed on the
floor.
Whats the matter with you, Rillomyner? Are you sick?
Im not sick, captain. I . . . I just dont want to look outside.
Why not?
I cant do it, captain. I can feel myself being drawn over the
side. I think Im going to float away.
You know thats nonsense, dont you? Toller thought of his
own moment of unmanning fear and was inclined towards
sympathy. Is this going to affect your work?
No, captain. The work would help.
Good! Carry out a full inspection of the main jet and the
laterals, and make very sure we have a smooth injection of
crystalswe cant afford to have any surges at this stage.
Rillomyner directed a salute towards the floor and slouched
away to fetch his tools. There followed an hour of respite from
the full burn rhythm while Rillomyner checked the controls,
some of which were common to the downward-facing jet. Flenn
prepared and served a breakfast of gruel studded with small
cubes of salt pork, all the while complaining about the cold and
the difficulty he was having in keeping the galley fire going. His
spirits improved a little when he learned that Rillomyner was not
going to eat, and as a change from lavatorial humour he subjected
the mechanic to a barrage of jokes about the dangers of
wasting away to a shadow.
True to his earlier boast, Flenn seemed quite unaffected by the
soul-withering void which glimmered through chinks in the
decking. At the end of the meal he actually chose to sit on the
gondola wall, with one arm casually thrown around an acceleration
strut, as he goaded the unhappy Rillomyner. Even though
Flenn had tethered himself, the sight of him perched on the
sky-backed rim produced such icy turmoil in Tollers gut that he
bore the arrangement for only a few minutes before ordering the
rigger to descend.
When Rillomyner had finished his work and retired to lie
down on the sandbags, Toller took up his position at the pilots
station. He entered the new mode of propulsion by firing the jet
in two-second bursts at wide intervals and studying the effects on
the balloon. Each thrust brought creaks from the struts and
rigging, but the envelope was affected much less than in experimental
firings at low altitudes. Encouraged, Toller varied
the timings and eventually settled on a two-four rhythm which
acted in much the same manner as continuous impulsion without
building up excessive speed. A short blast from the burner every
second or third minute kept the balloon inflated and the crown
from sagging too much as it nosed through the air.
She handles well, he said to Zavotle, who was industriously
writing in the log. It looks as though you and I are going to have
an easy run for the next day or twountil the instability sets in.
Zavotle tilted his narrow head. Its easier on the ears, too.
Toller nodded his agreement. Although the jet was firing for a
greater proportion of every minute than the burner had been
doing, its exhaust was not being directed into the great echo
chamber of the balloon. The sound of it was flatter and less
obtrusive, quickly absorbed by the surrounding oceans of
stillness.
With the ship behaving so docilely and according to plan
Toller began to feel that his forebodings of the night had been
nothing more than a symptom of his growing tiredness. He was
able to dwell on the incredible idea that in a mere seven or eight
days, all being well, he was due to have a close look at another
planet. The ship could not actually touch down on Overland,
because doing so would involve pulling out the rip panel, and
with no inflation facilities it would be unable to depart again. But
it was to go within a few yards of the surface, dispelling the last
traces of mystery about conditions on the sister planet.
The thousands of miles of air separating the two worlds had
always made it difficult for astronomers to say much more than
that there was an equatorial continent spanning the visible
hemisphere. It had always been assumed, partly on religious
grounds, that Overland closely resembled Land, but there
remained the possibility that it was inhospitable, perhaps
because of surface features beyond the resolving power of
telescopes. And there was the further possibilityan article of
faith for the Church, a moot case for philosophersthat
Overland was already inhabited.
What would the Overlanders look like? Would they be
builders of cities? And how would they react on seeing a fleet of
strange ships float down from the sky?
Tollers musing was interrupted by the realisation that the
coldness in the gondola had intensified in a matter of minutes.
Simultaneously, he was approached by Flenn, who had the pet
carble clutched to his chest and was visibly shivering. The little
mans face was tinged with blue.
This is killing me, captain, he said, trying to force his
customary grin. The cold has got worse all of a sudden.
Youre right. Toller felt a stirring of alarm at the idea
of having crossed an invisible danger line in the atmosphere,
then inspiration came to him. Its since we eased off on the
burner. The blow-back of miglign was helping to keep us
warm.
There was something else, Zavotle added. The air streaming
down over the hot envelope would have helped as well.
Damn! Toller frowned up into the geometric traceries of
the balloon. This means well have to put more heat in there.
We have plenty of green and purpleso thats all rightbut
theres going to be a problem later on.
Zavotle nodded, looking gloomy. The descent.
Toller gnawed his lip as, yet again, difficulties unforeseen by
the earthbound S.E.S. scientists confronted him. The only way
for the hot-air craft to lose altitude was through shedding
heatsuddenly a vital commodity as far as the crew were
concernedand to make matters worse the direction of the air
flow would be reversed during the descent, carrying the reduced
amount of warmth upwards and away from the gondola. The
prospect was that they would have to endure days in conditions
very much worse than those of the presentand there was a
genuine possibility that death would intervene.
A dilemma had to be resolved.
Was the fact that so much depended on the outcome of the
proving flight an argument for going on and on, even at the risk
of passing an imperceptible point of no return? Or was there a
higher obligation to be prudent and turn back with their hard-won
store of knowledge?
This is your lucky day, Toller said to Rillomyner, who was
watching him from his usual recumbent position in a passenger
compartment. You wanted work to occupy your mind, and now
youve got it. Find a way of diverting some heat from the burner
exhaust back down into the gondola.
The mechanic sat up with a startled expression. How could
we do it, captain?
I dont know. Its your job to work out things like that. Rig up
a scoop or something, and start right nowIm tired of seeing
you lie around like a pregnant gilt.
Flenns eyes gleamed. Is that any way to talk to our
passenger, captain?
Youve spent too much time on your backside, as well,
Toller told him. Have you needles and thread in your kit?
Yes, captain. Big needles, little needles, enough threads and
twines to rig a sailing ship.
Then start emptying sandbags and making over-suits out of
the sacking. Well also need gloves.
Leave it to me, captain, Flenn said. Ill fit us all out like
kings. Obviously pleased at having something constructive to
do, Flenn tucked the carble into his clothing, went to his locker
and began rummaging in its various compartments. He was
whistling in shivery vibrato.
Toller watched him for a moment, then turned to Zavotle,
who was blowing into his hands to keep them warm. Are you
still worrying about relieving yourself in weightless conditions?
Zavotles eyes became wary. Why do you ask, captain?
You should beit looks like a toss-up as to whether you
produce steam or snow.
The four members of the crew were tied into their wicker
chairs around the power unit, their feet outstretched towards the
warm base of the jet tube. They were muffled in crude garments
of ragged brown sacking which disguised their human form and
concealed the heaving of their chests as they laboured to deal
with the thin and gelid air. Within the gondola the only signs of
movement were the vapour featherings of the mens breath; and
on the outside meteors flickered in deep blue infinities, briefly
and randomly linking star to star.
Well, here we are, Toller said, breaking a lengthy silence.
The hardest part of the flight is behind us, we have coped with
every unpleasant surprise the heavens could throw at us, and we
are still in good health. Id say we are entitled to drink the brandy
with the next meal.
There was another protracted silence, as though thought itself
had been chilled into sluggishness, and Zavotle said, Im still
worried about the descent, captaineven with the heater.
If we survived this far we can go on. Toller glanced at the
heating device which Rillomyner had designed and installed with
some assistance from Zavotle. It consisted of nothing more than
an elongated S-shape of brakka tubing sections jointed with glass
cord and fireclay. Its top end curved over into the mouth of the
burner and its bottom end was secured to the deck beside the
pilots station. A small proportion of each blast on the burner
was channelled back down through the tube to send scorching
miglign gas billowing through the gondola, making an appreciable
difference to the temperature levels. Although the burner
would necessarily be used less during the descent, Toller
believed the heat drawn off from it would be sufficient for their
needs in the two severest days.
Its time for the medical report, he said, signalling for
Zavotle to make notes. How does everybody feel?
I still feel like were falling, captain. Rillomyner was gripping
the sides of his chair. Its making me queasy.
How could we fall if we have no weight? Toller said
reasonably, ignoring the fluttering lightness in his own stomach.
Youll have to get used to it. How about you, Flenn?
Im all right, captainheights dont bother me. Flenn
stroked the green-striped carble which was nestling on his chest
with only its head protruding through a vent in his outer
garment. Tinny is all right, as well. We help keep each other
warm.
I suppose Im in reasonable condition, considering. Zavotle
made an entry in the log, writing clumsily with gloved hand, and
raised his reproachful gaze to Toller. Shall I put you down as
being in fine fettle, captain? Best of health?
Yes, and all the sarcasm in the world wont get me to change
my decisionIm turning the ship over immediately after
littlenight. Toller knew the co-pilot was still clinging to his opinion,
voiced earlier, that they should delay turning the ship over for a
full day or even longer after passing the zero gravity point. The
reasoning was that doing so would get them through the region
of greatest cold more quickly and with lost heat from the balloon
protecting them from the chill. Toller could see some merit in the
idea, but he would have exceeded his authority by putting it into
practice.
As soon as you pass the midpoint Overland will begin attracting
you towards it, Lain had impressed upon him. The pull will be
very slight at first, but it will quickly build up. If you augment that
pull with the thrust from the drive jet you will soon exceed the
design speed of the shipand (hat must never be allowed to
happen.
Zavotle had argued that the S.E.S. scientists had not anticipated
the life-threatening coldness, nor had they allowed for the
fact that the thin air of the mid-passage exerted less force on the
envelope, thus increasing the maximum safe speed. Toller had
remained adamant. As captain of the ship he had considerable
discretionary powers, but not when it was a case of challenging
basic S.E.S. directives.
He had not admitted that his determination had been reinforced
by an instinctive distaste for flying the ship upside
down. Although during training he had been privately sceptical
about the notion of weightlessness, he fully understood that as
soon as the ship had passed the midpoint it would have entered
the gravitational domain of Overland. In one sense the journey
would have been completed, becausebarring an act of human
will translated into mechanical actionthe destinies of the ship
and its crew could no longer be affected by their home world.
They would have been cast out, redefined as aliens by the terms
of celestial physics.
Toller had decided that postponing the attitude reversal until
littlenight had passed would use up all the leeway he had in the
matter. Throughout the ascent Overland, though screened from
view by the balloon, had steadily increased in apparent size and
littlenight had grown longer accordingly. The approaching one
would last more than three hours, and by the time it had ended
the ship would have begun falling towards the sister planet.
Toller found the progressive change in the patterns of night and
day a powerful reminder of the magnitude of the voyage he had
undertaken. There was no surprise as far as the intellect of the
grown man was concerned, but the child in him was bemused and
awed by what was happening. Night was becoming shorter as
littlenight grew, and soon the natural order of things would be
reversed. Lands night would have dwindled to become Overlands
littlenight. . . .
While waiting for darkness to arrive, Toller and the others
investigated the miracle of weightlessness. There was a rare
fascination in suspending small objects in the air and watching
them hold their positions, in defiance of all of lifes teachings,
until the next blast from the drive jet belatedly caused them to
sink.
It is almost as if the jet somehow restores a fraction of their
natural weight, ran Zavotles entry in the log, but of course that is
a fanciful way of regarding the phenomenon. The real explanation
is that they are invisibly fixed in place, and that the thrust
from the jet enables the ship to overtake them.
Littlenight came more suddenly than ever, wrapping the
gondola in jewelled and fire-streaked blackness, and for its
duration the four conversed in muted tones, recreating the mood
of their first starlit communion of the flight. The talk ranged from
gossip about life in the S.E.S. base to speculation about what
strange things might be found on Overland, and once there was
even an attempt to foresee the problems of flying to Farland,
which could be observed hanging in the west like a green lantern.
Nobody felt disposed, Toller noticed, to dwell on the fact that
they were suspended between two worlds in a fragile open-topped
box, with thousands of miles of emptiness lapping at the
rim.
He also noticed that the crew had stopped addressing him as
captain for the time being, and he was not displeased. He knew
there was no lessening of his necessary authorityit was an
unconscious acknowledgement of the fact that four ordinary
men were venturing into the extraordinary, the region of
strangeness, and that in their mutual need for each other they
were equal. . . .
One prismatic flash brought the daytime universe back into
existence.
Did you mention brandy, captain? Rillomyner said. It has
just occurred to me that some internal warmth might fortify this
cursed delicate stomach of mine. The medicinal properties of
brandy are well known.
Well have the brandy with the next meal. Toller blinked
and looked about him, re-establishing connections with history.
Before that the ship gets turned over.
Earlier he had been pleased to discover that the ships predicted
instability in and close to the weightless zone was easy to
overcome and control with the lateral jets. Occasional half-second
bursts had been all that was necessary to keep the edge of
the gondola in the desired relationship with the major stars.
Now, however, the shipor the universehad to be stood on
its head. He pumped the pneumatic reservoir to full pressure
before feeding crystals to the east-facing jet for a full three
seconds. The sound from the miniature orifice was devoured by
infinity.
For a moment it seemed that its puny output would have no
effect on the mass of the ship, thenfor the first time since
the beginning of the ascentthe great disk of Overland slid
fully into view from behind the curvature of the balloon. It was
lit by a crescent of fire along one rim, almost touching the
sun.
At the same time Land rose above the rim of the gondola wall
on the opposite side, and as air resistance overcame the impulsion
from its jet the ship steadied in an attitude which presented
the crew with a vision of two worlds.
By turning his head one way Toller could see Overland,
mostly in blackness because of its proximity to the sun; and in the
other direction was the mind-swamping convexity of the home
world, serene and eternal, bathed in sunshine except at its
eastern rim, where a shrinking curved section still lay in
littlenight. He watched in rapt fascination as Overlands shadow
swung clear of Land, feeling himself to be at the fulcrum of a
lever of light, an intangible engine which had the power to move
planets.
For pitys sake, captain, Rillomyner cried hoarsely, put
the ship to rights.
Youre in no danger. Toller fired the lateral jet again and
Land drifted majestically upwards to be occulted by the balloon
as Overland sank below the edge of the gondola. The rigging
creaked several times as he used the opposing lateral to balance
the ship in its new attitude. Toller permitted himself a smile of
satisfaction at having become the first man in history to turn a
skyship over. The manoeuvre had been carried out quickly and
without mishapand from that point on the natural forces
acting on the ship would do most of his work for him.
Make a note, he said to Zavotle. Midpoint successfully
negotiated. I foresee no major obstacles in the descent to
Overland.
Zavotle freed his pencil from its restraining clip. Were still
going to freeze, captain.
That isnt a major obstacleif necessary well burn some
green and purple right here on the deck. Toller, suddenly
exhilarated and optimistic, turned to Flenn. How do you
feel? Can your head for heights cope with our present
circumstances?
Flenn grinned. If its food you want, captain, Im your man. I
swear my arsehole has cobwebs over it.
In that case, see what you can do about a meal. Toller knew
the order would be particulary welcome because for more than
a day the crew had opted to go without food or drink to obviate
the indignity, discomfort and sheer unpleasantness of using the
toilet facilities in virtual weightlessness.
He watched benignly as Flenn pushed the carble back into its
warm sanctuary inside his clothing and untied himself from his
chair. The little man was obviously struggling for breath as he
swung his way into the galley, but the black cabochons of his eyes
were glinting with good humour. He reappeared just long
enough to hand Toller the single small flask of brandy which had
been included in the ships provisions, then there followed a long
period during which he could be heard working with the cooking
equipment, panting and swearing all the time. Toller took a sip
of the brandy and had given the flask to Zavotle when it dawned
on him that Flenn was trying to prepare a hot meal.
You dont need to heat anything, he called out. Cold jerky
and bread will be enough.
Its all right, captain, came Flenns breathless reply. The
charcoal is still lit. . . and its only a matter of. . .fanning it hard
enough. Im going to serve you . . . a veritable banquet. A man
needs a good . . . Hell!
Concurrent with the last word there was a clattering sound.
Toller turned towards the galley in time to see a burning piece of
firewood rise vertically into the air from behind the partition.
Lazily spinning, wrapped in pale yellow flame, it sailed upwards
and glanced off a sloping lower panel of the balloon. Just when it
seemed that it had been deflected harmlessly away into the blue
it was caught by an air current which directed it into the
narrowing gap between an acceleration strut and the envelope.
It lodged in the juncture of the two, still burning.
Its mine! Flenn shouted. Ill get it!
He appeared on the gondola wall at the corner, unhooking his
tether, and went up the strut at speed, using only his hands in a
curious weightless scramble. Tollers heart and mind froze over
as he saw brownish smoke puff out from the varnished fabric of
the balloon. Flenn reached the burning stick and grasped it with
a gloved hand. He hurled the stick away with a lateral sweep of
his arm and suddenly he too was separated from the ship,
tumbling in thin air. Hands clawing vainly towards the strut, he
floated slowly outwards.
Tollers consciousness was sundered by two focuses of terror.
Fear of personal annihilation kept his gaze centred on the
smoking patch of fabric until he saw that the flame had extinguished
itself, but all the while he was filled with a silent-shrieking
awareness of the bright void between Flenn and the
balloon growing wider.
Flenns initial impetus had not been great, but he had drifted
outwards for some thirty yards before air resistance brought
him to a halt. He hung in the blue emptiness, glowing in the
sunlight which the balloon screened from the gondola, scarcely
recognisable as a human being in his ragged swaddling of
sackcloth.
Toller went to the side and cupped his hands around his mouth
to aim a shout. Flenn! Are you all right?
Dont worry about me, captain. Flenn waved an arm and,
incredibly, he was able to sound almost cheerful. I can see the
envelope well from here. Theres a scorched area all around the
strut attachment, but the fabric isnt holed.
Were going to bring you in. Toller turned to Zavotle and
Rillomyner. He isnt lost. We need to throw him a line.
Rillomyner was doubled in his chair. Cant do it, captain, he
mumbled. I cant look out there.
Youre going to look and youre going to work, Toller
assured him grimly.
I can help, Zavotle said, leaving his chair. He opened the
riggers locker and brought out several coils of rope. Toller,
impatient to effect a rescue, snatched one of the ropes. He
secured one end of it and flung the coil out towards Flenn, but as
he did so his feet rose clear of the deck, and what he had intended
as a powerful throw proved to be feeble and misdirected. The
rope unfurled for only part of its length and froze uselessly, still
retaining its undulations.
Toller drew the rope in and while he was coiling it again
Zavotle threw his line with similar lack of success. Rillomyner,
who was moaning faintly with every breath, hurled out a thinner
line of glasscord. It extended fully in roughly the right direction,
but stopped too short.
Good for nothing! Flenn jeered, seemingly undaunted by
the thousands of miles of vacancy yawning below him. Your old
grandmother could do better, Rillo.
Toller removed his gloves and made a fresh attempt to bridge
the void, but even though he had braced himself against a
partition the cold-stiffened rope again failed to unwind properly.
It was while he was retrieving it that he noticed an unnerving
fact. At the beginning of the rescue effort Flenn had been
considerably higher in relation to the ship, level with the upper
end of the acceleration strutbut now he was only slightly
above the rim of the gondola.
A moments reflection told Toller that Flenn was falling. The
ship was also falling, but as long as there was warmth inside the
balloon it would retain some degree of buoyancy and would
descend more slowly than a solid object. This close to the
midpoint the relative speeds were negligible, but Flenn was
nonetheless in the grip of Overlands gravity, and had begun the
long plunge to the surface.
Have you noticed whats happening? Toller said to Zavotle
in a low voice. Were running out of time.
Zavotle assessed the situation. Is there any point in using the
laterals?
Wed only start cartwheeling.
This is serious, Zavotle said. First of all Flenn damages
the balloonthen he puts himself in a position where he cant
repair it.
I doubt if he did that on purpose. Toller wheeled on
Rillomyner. The cannon! Find a weight that will go into the
cannon. Maybe we can fire a line.
At that moment Flenn, who had been quiescent, appeared to
notice his gradual change of position relative to the ship and to
draw the appropriate conclusions. He began struggling and
squirming, then made exaggerated swimming movements which
in other circumstances might have been comic. Discovering that
nothing was having any good effect he again became still, except
for an involuntary movement of his hands when Zavotles
second throw of the rope failed to reach him.
Im getting scared, captain. Although Flenn was shouting
his voice seemed faint, its energies leaching away into the
surrounding immensities. Youve got to bring me home.
Well bring you in. Theres. . . . Toller allowed the sentence
to tail off. He had been going to assure Flenn there was
plenty of time, but his voice would have lacked conviction. It was
becoming apparent that not only was Flenn falling past the
gondola, but thatin keeping with the immutable laws of
physicshe was gaining speed. The acceleration was almost
imperceptible, but its effects were cumulative. Cumulative and
lethal. . . .
Rillomyner touched Tollers arm. Theres nothing that will
fit in the cannon, captain, but I joined two bits of glasscord and
tied it to this. He proffered a hammer with a large brakka head.
I think it will reach him.
Good man, Toller said, appreciative of the way the mechanic
was overcoming his acrophobia in the emergency. He
moved aside to let Rillomyner make the throw. The mechanic
tied the free end of the glasscord to the rail, judged the distances
and hurled the hammer out into space.
Toller saw at once that he had made the mistake of aiming
high, compensating for a full-gravity drop that was not going to
occur. The hammer dragged the cord out behind it and came to a
halt in the air a tantalising few yards above Flenn, who was
galvanised into windmilling his arms in a futile attempt to reach
it. Rillomyner jiggled the cord in an effort to move the hammer
downwards, but only succeeded in drawing it a short distance
back towards the ship.
Thats no good, Toller snapped. Pull it in fast and throw
straight at him next time. He was trying to suppress a growing
sense of panic and despair. Flenn was now visibly sinking below
the level of the gondola, and the hammer was less likely to reach
him as the range increased and the angles became less conducive
to accurate throwing. What Flenn desperately needed was a
means of reducing the distance separating him from the gondola,
and that was impossible unless . . . unless. . . .
A familiar voice spoke inside Tollers head. Action and
reaction, Lain was saying. Thats the universal
principle. . . .
Flenn, you can bring yourself closer, Toller shouted. Use
the carble! Throw it straight away from the ship, as hard as you
can. That will drift you in this direction.
There was a pause before Flenn responded. I couldnt do
that, captain.
This is an order, Toller bellowed. Throw the carble, and
throw it right now! Were running out of time.
There was a further pounding delay, then Flenn was seen to be
fumbling with the coverings on his chest. Sunlight flared on the
lower surfaces of his body as he slowly produced the green-striped
animal.
Toller swore in frustration. Hurry, hurry! Were going to
lose you.
Youve already lost me, captain. Flenns voice was
resigned. But I want you to take Tinny home with you.
There was a sudden sweeping movement of his arm and he
went tumbling backwards as the carble sailed towards the ship. It
was travelling too low. Toller watched numbly as the terrified
animal, mewing and clawing at the air, passed out of sight below
the gondola. Its yellow eyes had seemed to be boring into his
own. Flenn receded a short distance before he stabilised
himself by spreading his arms and legs. He came to rest in the
attitude of a drowned man, floating face-down on an invisible
ocean, his gaze directed towards Overlandthousands of miles
belowwhich had taken him in its gravitational arms.
You stupid little midget, Rillomyner sobbed as~he again
sent the hammer snaking towards Flenn. It stopped short and a
little to one side of its target. Flenn, body and limbs rigid,
continued to sink with gathering speed.
Hell be falling for maybe a day, Zavotle whispered. Just
think of it . . . a whole day . . . falling . . . I wonder if hell still
be alive when he hits the ground.
Ive got other things to think about, Toller said harshly,
turning away from the gondola wall, unable to watch Flenn
dwindling out of sight.
His brief required him to abort the flight in the event of losing
a crew member or sustaining some serious structural damage to
the ship. Nobody could have foreseen both circumstances arising
as a result of one trivial-seeming accident with the galley stove,
but he felt no less responsibleand it remained to be seen if the
S.E.S. administrators would also regard him as culpable.
Switch us back to jet power, he said to Rillomyner. Were
going home.
PART III
Region of Strangeness
Chapter 16
Lain Maraquine was content to let the bluehorn pick its own
way around the various obstacles, giving it only an occasional
nudge to keep it heading for the orange flag which marked the
caves position. The four mounted soldiers of his personal guard,
obligatory for any senior official of the S.E.S., followed a short
distance behind, the murmur of their conversation blending with
the heavy drone of insects. Littlenight was not long past and
the high sun was baking the ground, clothing the horizon in
tremulous purple-tinted blankets of hot air.
Lain felt unusually relaxed, appreciating the opportunity to
get away from the skyship base and turn his mind to matters
which had nothing to do with world crises and interplanetary
travel. Tollers premature return from the proving flight, ten
days earlier, had involved Lain in a harrowing round of meetings,
consultations and protracted studies of the new scientific
data obtained. One faction in the S.E.S. administration had
wanted a second proving flight with a full descent to Overland
and detailed mapping of the central continent. In normal
circumstances Lain would have been in agreement, but the
rapidly worsening situation in Kolcorron overrode all other
consideration. . . .
The production target of one thousand skyships had been
achieved with some to spare, thanks to the driving ruthlessness
and Leddravohr and Chakkell.
Fifty of the ships had been set aside for the transportation of the
countrys royalty and aristocrats in small family groups who
would travel in comparative luxury, though by no means all of the
nobility had decided to take part in the migration. Another
two-hundred were designated as cargo vessels which would carry
food, livestock, seeds, weapons and essential machinery and
materials; and a further hundred were for the use of military
personnel. That left six-hundred-and-fifty ships which, with
reduced two-man crews, had the capability of transporting
almost twelve thousand of the general population to Overland.
At an early stage of the great undertaking King Prad had
decreed that emigration would be on a purely voluntary basis,
with equal numbers of males and females, and that fixed proportions
of the available places would be allocated to men with key
skills.
For a long time the hard-headed citizenry had declined to take
the proposal seriously, regarding it as a diversion, a regal folly to
be chuckled over in taverns. The small numbers who put their
names forward were treated with derision, and it seemed that if the
skyship fleet were ever to befitted it would only be at swordpoint.
Prad had chosen to bide his time, knowing in advance that
greater forces than he could ever muster were on the move. The
ptertha plague, famine and the abrupt crumbling of social order
had exerted their powerful persuasions, andin spite of condemnation
from the Churchthe roster of willing emigrants had
swollen. But such was the conservatism of the Kolcorronians and
so radical the solution to their problems that a certain degree of
reserve still had to be overcome, a lingering feeling that any
amount of deprivation and danger on Land was preferable to the
near-inevitability of a highly unnatural death in the alien blue
reaches of the sky.
Then had come the news that an S.E.S. ship had voyaged more
than halfway to Overland and had returned intact.
Within hours every remaining place on the emigration flight had
been allocated, and suddenly those who held the necessary warrants
were objects of envy and resentment. There was a reversal of
public opinion, swift and irrational, and many who had scorned
the very notion of fly ing to the sister world began to see themselves
as victims of discrimination.
Even the majority who were too apathetic to care much either
way about the broad historical issues were disgruntled by stories
of wagons loaded with scarce provisions disappearing through the
gates of Skyship Quarter. . . .
Against that background Lain had argued that the proving
flight had achieved all its major objectives by successfully
turning over and passing the midpoint. The descent to the surface of
Overland would have been a passive and predictable business;
and Zavotles sketches of the central continent, viewed through
binoculars, were good enough to show that it was remarkably
free of mountains and other features which would have jeopardised
safe landings.
Even the loss of a crew member had occurred in such a way as
to provide a valuable lesson about the inadvisability of cooking
in weightless conditions. The commander of the ship was to be
congratulated on his conduct of a uniquely demanding mission,
Lain had concluded, and the migration itself should begin in the
very near future.
His arguments had been accepted.
The first squadron of forty skyships, mainly carrying soldiers
and construction workers, was scheduled to depart on Day 80 of
the year 2630.
That date was only six days in the future, and as Lains steed
picked its way up the hill to the cave it came to him that he was
curiously unexcited by the prospect of flying to Overland. If all
went according to plan he and Gesalla would be on a ship of the
tenth squadron, whichallowing for delays caused by unsuitable
weather or ptertha activitywas due to leave the home
world in perhaps only twenty days time. Why was he so little
moved by the imminence of what would be the greatest personal
adventure of his life, the finest scientific opportunity he could
ever conceive, the boldest undertaking in the entire history of
mankind?
Was it that he was too timorous even to allow himself to think about the
event? Was it that the growing rift with Gesallaunacknowledged
but ever present in his awarenesshad
severed a spiritual taproot, rendering him emotionally sere and
sterile? Or was it a simple failure of the imagination on the part
of one who prided himself on his superior qualities of mind?
The torrent of questions and doubts subsided as the bluehorn
reached a rock-strewn shelf and Lain saw the entrance to the
cave a short distance ahead. Grateful for the internal respite, he
dismounted and waited for the soldiers to catch up on him. The
four mens faces were beaded with sweat below their leather
helmets, and they were obviously puzzled at having been
brought to such a desolate spot.
You will wait for me here, Lain said to the burly sergeant.
Where will you post your look-outs?
The sergeant shaded his eyes from the near-vertical rays of the
sun which were stabbing past the fire-limned disk of Overland.
On top of the hill, sir. They should be able to see five or six
observation posts from there.
Good! Im going into this cave and I dont want to be
disturbed. Only call me if there is a ptertha warning.
Yes, sir.
While the sergeant dismounted and deployed his men Lain
opened the panniers strapped to his bluehorn and took out four
oil lanterns. He ignited the wicks with a lens, picked the lanterns
up by their glasscord slings and carried them into the cave. The
entrance was quite low and as narrow as a single door. For a
moment the air was even warmer than in the open, then he was in
a region of dim coolness where the walls receded to form a
spacious chamber. He set the lanterns on the dirt floor and
waited for his eyes to adjust to the poor light.
The cave had been discovered earlier in the year by a surveyor
investigating the hill as a possible site for an observation post.
Perhaps through genuine enthusiasm, perhaps out of a desire to
sample Lord Glos noted hospitality, the surveyor had made his
way to Greenmount and lodged a description of the caves
startling contents. The report had reached Lain a short time later
and he had decided to view the find for himself as soon as he had
time to spare from his work. Now, surrounded by a fading screen
of after-images, he understood that his coming to the dark place
was symbolic. He was turning towards Lands past and away
from Overlands future, confessing that he wanted no part of the
migration flight or what lay beyond it. . . .
The pictures on the cave walls were becoming visible.
There was no order to the scenes portrayed. It appeared that
the largest and flattest areas had been used first, and that
succeeding generations of artists had filled in the intervening
spaces with fragmentary scenes, using their ingenuity to incorporate
bosses, hollows and cracks as features of their designs.
The result was a labyrinthian montage in which the eye was
compelled to wander unceasingly from semi-naked hunters to
family groups to stylised brakka trees to strange and familiar
animals, erotica, demons, cooking pots, flowers, human
skeletons, weapons, suckling babes, geometrical abstracts, fish,
snakes, unclassifiable artifacts and impenetrable symbols. In
some cases cardinal lines had been graven into the rock and filled
with pitch, causing the images to advance on the sight with
relentless power; in others there was a spatial ambiguity by
which a human or animal form might be defined by nothing
more than the changing intensity of a patch of colour. For the
most part the pigments were still vivid where they were meant
to be vivid, and restrained where the artist had chosen to be
subtle, but in some places time itself had contributed to the
visual complexity with the stainings of moisture and fungal
growths.
Lain was overwhelmed, as never before, by a sense of
duration.
The basic thesis of the Kolcorronian religion was that Land
and Overland had always existed and had always been very much
as they were in modern times, twin poles for the continuous
alternation of discarnate human spirits. Four centuries earlier a
war had been fought to stamp out the Bithian Heresy, which
claimed that a person would be rewarded for a life of virtue on
one world by being given a higher station when reincarnated on
the sister planet. The Churchs main objection had been to the
idea of a progression and therefore of change, which conflicted
with the essential teaching that the present order was immutable
and eternal. Lain found it easy to believe that the macrocosm
had always been as it was, but on the small stage of human
history there was evidence of change, and by extrapolating
backwards one could arrive at . . . this!
He had no way of estimating the age of the cave paintings, but
his instinct was to think in millennia and not in centuries. Here
was evidence that men had once existed in vastly different
circumstances, that they had thought in different ways, and had
shared the planet with animals which no longer existed. He
experienced a pang of mingled intellectual stimulation and
regret as he realised that here, in the confines of one rocky
cavity, was the material for a lifetime of work. It would have
been possible for him to complement the abstractions of
mathematics with the study of his own kind, a course which
seemed infinitely more natural and rewarding than fleeing to
another world.
ould I still do it?
The thought, only half serious though it was, seemed to
intensify the coolness of the cave and Lain raised his shoulders in
the beginnings of a shudder. He found himself, as had happened
several times recently, trying to analyse his commitment to flying
to Overland.
Was it the logical thing to dothe coolly considered action of
a philosopheror did he feel that he owed it to Gesalla, and the
children she was determined to have, to give them a divergent
future? Until he had begun examining his own motives the issue
had seemed clear cutfly to Overland and embrace the future,
or stay on Land and die with the past.
But the majority of the population had not had to make that
decision. They would be following the very human course of
refusing to lie down until they were dead, of simply ignoring the
defeatist notion that the blind and mindless ptertha could
triumph over mankind. Indeed, the migration flight could not
even take place without the cooperation of those who were
staying behindthe inflation crews, the men in the ptertha
observation posts, the military who would defend Skyship
Quarter and continue to impose order after the King and his
entourage had departed.
Human life was not going to cease overnight on Land, Lain
had realised. There could be many years, decades, of shrinkage
and retrenchment, and perhaps the process would eventually
produce a hard core of unkillables, few in number, living underground
in conditions of unimaginable privation. Lain did not
want to be part of that grim scenario, but the point was that he
might be able to find a niche within it. The point was that, given
sufficient will, he coflld probably live out his allotted span on
the planet of his birth, where his existence had relevance and
meaning.
But what about Gesalla?
She was too loyal to consider leaving without him. Such was
her character that the very fact of their drifting apart mentally
would cause her to cleave to him all the more in body, in
obedience to her marriage vows. He doubted if she had even yet
admitted to herself that she was. . . .
Lains eyes, darting urgently over the time-deep panorama
surrounding him, fastened on the image of a small child at play.
It was a vignette, at the triangular juncture of three larger
scenes, and showed a male infant absorbed with what appeared
to be a doll which he was holding in one hand. His other hand
was outstretched to the side, as though carelessly reaching for a
familiar pet, and just beyond it was a featureless circle. The
circle was devoid of coloration and could have represented
several thingsa large ball, a balloon, a whimsically placed
Overlandbut Lain was oddly tempted to see it as a ptertha.
He picked up a lantern and went closer to the picture. The
intensified illumination confirmed that the circle had never
contained any pigment, which was strange considering that the
long-dead artists had shown great scrupulousness and subtlety in
their rendering of other less significant subjects. That implied
that his interpretation had been wrong, especially as the child in
the fragmentary scene was obviously relaxed and unperturbed
by the nearness of what would have been an object of terror.
Lains deliberations were interrupted by the sound of someone
entering the cave. Frowning with annoyance, he raised the
lantern, then took an involuntary pace backwards as he saw that
the newcomer was Leddravohr. The princes smile flicked into
existence for a moment as he emerged from the narrow passage,
battle sword scraping the wall, and ran his gaze around the cave.
Good aftday, Prince, Lain said, dismayed to find that he
was beginning to tremble. Many meetings with Leddravohr
during the course of his work for the S.E.S. had taught him to
retain most of his composure when they were with others and in
the humdrum atmosphere of an office, but here in the constricted
space of the cave Leddravohr was huge, inhumanly
powerful and frightening. He was far enough removed from Lain
in mind and outlook to have stepped out of one of the primitive
scenes glowing in the surrounding half-light.
Leddravohr gave the entire display a cursory inspection
before speaking. I was told there was something remarkable
here, Maraquine. Was I misinformed?
I dont think so, Prince. Lain hoped he had been able to
keep a tremor out of his voice.
You dont think so? Well, what is it that your fine brain
appreciates and mine doesnt?
Lain sought an answer which would not frame the insult
Leddravohr had devised for him. I havent had time to study
the pictures, Princebut I am interested in the fact that they are
obviously very old.
How old?
Perhaps three or four thousand years.
Leddravohr snorted in amusement. Thats nonsense. Youre
saying these scrawls are far older than Ro-Atabri itself?
It was just my opinion, Prince.
Youre wrong. The colours are too fresh. This place has been
a bolt hole during one of the civil wars. Some insurgents have
hidden out here and. . . .Leddravohr paused to peer closely at
a sketch depicting two men in a contorted sexual position. And
you can see what they did to pass the time. Is this what intrigues
you, Maraquine?
No, Prince.
Do you ever lose your temper, Maraquine?
I try not to, Prince.
Leddravohr snorted again, padded around the cave and came
back to Lain. All right, you can stop shakingIm not going to
touch you. It may interest you to learn that Im here because my
father has heard about this spider hole. He wants the drawings
accurately copied. How long will that take?
Lain glanced around the walls. Four good draughtsmen
could do it in a day, Prince.
You arrange it. Leddravohr stared at him with an unreadable
expression on his smooth face. Why does anybody give a
fig about the likes of this place? My father is old and worn out; he
has soon to face flying to Overland; most of our population has
been wiped out by the plague, and the remainder are getting
ready to riot; and even some units of the army are becoming
unruly now that they are hungry and it has dawned on them that I
soon wont be here to look after their welfareand yet all my
father is concerned about is seeing these miserable scrawls for
himself. Why, Maraquine, why?
Lain was unprepared for the question. King Prad appears to
have the instincts of a philosopher, Prince.
You mean hes like you?
I didnt intend to elevate myself to. . . .
Never mind all that. Was that supposed to be your answer?
He wants to know things because he wants to know things?
Thats what philosopher means, Prince.
But. . . . Leddravohr broke off as there was a clattering of
equipment in the cave entrance and the sergeant of Lains
personal guard appeared. He saluted Leddravohr and, although
agitated, waited for permission to speak.
Go on, man, Leddravohr said.
The wind is rising in the west, Prince. We are warned of
ptertha.
Leddravohr waved the sergeant away. All rightwe will
leave soon.
The wind is rising quickly, Prince, the sergeant said,
obviously deeply unhappy at lingering beyond his dismissal.
And a crafty old soldier like you sees no point in taking
unnecessary risks. Leddravohr placed a hand on the sergeants
shoulder and shook him playfully, an intimacy he would not have
granted the loftiest aristocrat. Take your men and leave now,
sergeant.
The sergeants eyes emitted a single flash of gratitude and
adoration as he hurried away. Leddravohr watched him depart,
then turned to Lain.
You were explaining this passion for useless knowledge, he
said. Continue!
I. . . . Lain tried to organise his thoughts. In my profession
all knowledge is regarded as useful.
Why?
Its part of a whole . . . a unified structure . . . and when that
structure is complete Man will be complete and will have total
control of his destiny.
Fine words! Leddravohrs discontented gaze steadied on
the section of wall closest to where Lain was standing. Do you
really believe the future of our race hinges on that picture of a
brat playing ball?
That isnt what I said, Prince.
That isnt what I said, Prince, Leddravohr mocked. You
have told me nothing, philosopher.
I am sorry that you heard nothing, Lain said quietly.
Leddravohrs smile appeared on the instant. That was meant
to be an insult, wasnt it? Love of knowledge must be an ardent
passion indeed if it begins to stiffen your backbone, Maraquine.
We will continue this discussion on the ride back. Come!
Leddravohr went to the entrance, turned sideways and negotiated
the narrow passage. Lain blew out the four lanterns and,
leaving them where they were, followed Leddravohr to the
outside. A noticeable breeze was streaming over the uneven
contours of the hill from the west. Leddravohr, already astride
his bluehorn, watched in amusement as Lain gathered the skirts
of his robe and inexpertly dragged himself up into his own
saddle. After a searching look at the sky, Leddravohr led the
way down the hill, controlling his mount with the straight-backed
nonchalance of the born rider.
Lain, yielding to an impulse, urged his bluehorn forward on a
roughly parallel track, determined to keep abreast of the prince.
They were almost halfway down the hill when he discovered he
was guiding his animal at speed into a patch of loose shale. He
tried to pull the bluehorn to the right, but only succeeded in
throwing it off balance. It gave a bark of alarm as it lost its
footing on the treacherous surface and fell sideways. Lain heard
its leg snap as he threw himself clear, aiming for a clump of
yellow grass which had mercifully appeared in his view. He hit
the ground, rolled over and jumped to his feet immediately,
unharmed but appalled by the agonised howling of the bluehorn
as it threshed on the clattering flakes of rock.
Leddravohr dismounted in a single swift movement and strode
to the fallen animal, black sword in hand. He moved in quickly
and drove the blade into the bluehorns belly, angling the thrust
forward to penetrate the chest cavity. The bluehorn gave a
convulsive heave and emitted a slobbering, snoring sound as it
died. Lain clapped a hand over his mouth as he fought to control
the racking upsurges of his stomach.
Heres another morsel of useful knowledge for you,
Leddravohr said calmly. When youre killing a bluehorn, never
go straight into the heart or youll get blood all over you. This
way the heart discharges into the body cavities, and there is very
little mess. See? Leddravohr withdrew his sword, wiped it on
the dead animals mane and spread his arms, inviting inspection
of his unmarked clothing. Dont you agree that its all very. . .
philosophical?
I made it fall, Lain mumbled.
It was only a bluehorn. Leddravohr sheathed his sword,
returned to his mount and swung himself into the saddle. Come
on, Maraquinewhat are you waiting for?
Lain looked at the prince, who had one hand outstretched in
readiness to assist him on to the bluehorn, and felt a powerful
aversion to making the physical contact. Thank you, Princebut
it would be improper for one of my station to ride with
you.
Leddravohr burst out laughing. What are you talking about,
you fool? Were out in the real world nowthe soldiers worldand
the ptertha are on the move.
The reference to the ptertha went through Lain like a dagger
of ice. He took a hesitant step forward.
Dont be so bashful, Leddravohr said, his eyes amused and
derisive. After all, it wouldnt be the first time you and I had
shared a mount.
Lain came to a standstill, his brow dewing over with cool
perspiration, and he heard himself say, On consideration, I
prefer to make my own way back to the Quarter on foot.
Im losing patience with you, Maraquine. Leddravohr
shaded his eyes and scanned the western sky. Im not going to
plead with you to preserve your own life.
My life is my responsibility, Prince.
It must be something in the Maraquine blood, Leddravohr
said, shrugging as he addressed a notional third party.
He turned his bluehorns head to the east and urged the beast
into a canter. Within a few seconds he had passed out of sight
behind a shoulder of rock, and Lain was alone in a harsh
landscape which suddenly seemed as alien and unforgiving as a
distant planet. He gave a shaky, incredulous laugh as he took
stock of the predicament he had placed himself in with a single
failure of reason.
Why now? he demanded of himself. Why did I wait until now?
There was a faint scraping sound from nearby. Lain wheeled
in fright and saw that pallid multipedes were already writhing
upwards out of their burrows, disturbing small pebbles in their
eagerness to converge on the dead bluehorn. He lunged away
from the spectacle. For a moment he considered returning to the
cave, then realised it would offer only minimal protection during
daylightand after nightfall the entire hill was likely to be
swarming with globes, patiently nuzzling and probing. The best
plan was to head eastwards to Skyship Quarter with all possible
speed and try to get there before the ptertha came riding down
the wind.
The decision made, Lain began to run through the murmurous
heat. Near the base of the hill he emerged on an open slope
which gave him an unrestricted view to the east. A far-off plume
of dust marked Leddravohrs course and a long way ahead of
him, almost at the drab boundaries of the Quarter, a larger cloud
showed how far the four soldiers had gone. He had not appreciated
the difference in speed between a man on fpot and one
mounted on a galloping bluehorn. He would be able to make
better progress when he reached the flat grassland, but even so it
would probably be an hour before he reached safety.
An hour!
Is there any hope at all of my surviving for that length of time?
As a distraction from his growing physical distress, he tried to
bring his professional skills to bear on the question. The statistics,
when looked at dispassionately, were more encouraging
than he might have expected.
Daylight and flat terrain were conditions which did not favour
the ptertha. They had virtually no self-propulsive capability in
the horizontal plane, depending on air currents to carry them
across the face of the land, which meant that an active man had
little to fear from ptertha while he was crossing open ground.
Assuming they had not blanketed the areasomething which
rarely happened in daytimeall he had to do was observe the
globes closely and be aware of the wind direction. When
menaced by a ptertha, it was simply a matter of waiting until just
before it came within the killing radius, then running crosswind
for a short distance and allowing the globe to drift helplessly by.
Lain stumbled to a halt in a gully, his mouth filling with the salt
froth of exhaustion, and leaned on a rock to recover his breath. It
was vital that he should still have reserves of strength and be
nimble on his feet when he reached the plain. As the tumult in his
chest gradually subsided he indulged himself in a visualisation of
his next encounter with Leddravohr, andincrediblyhe felt
his gaping mouth trying to form a grin. This was the irony of
ironies! While the renowned military prince had fled to seek
refuge from the ptertha, the mild-mannered philosopher had
strolled back to the city, in need of no armour but his intellect.
This was proof indeed that he was no coward, proof for all to see,
proof that even his wife would have to. . . .
Ive gone mad! The thought caused Lain to moan aloud in
sheer self-loathing. I have truly lost what used to be my mind!
I permitted a savage to breach my defences with all his crossness
and malice, his celebration of stupidity and glorification of
ignorance. I let him debase me until I was prepared to throw away life itself
in a weltering of hatred and pridewhat laudable emotions!and
now Im indulging in fantasies of childish revenge, so
gratified by my own superiority that I havent even taken the basic
precaution of making sure there are no ptertha at hand!
Lain straightened up andsick with premonitionturned to
look back along the gully.
The ptertha was barely ten paces away, well within its killing
radius, and the breeze coursing along the gully was sweeping it
closer to him with mind-freezing swiftness.
It swelled to encompass his view, its glistening transparencies
tinged with purple and black. In one part of his mind Lain felt a
perverse flicker of gratitude that the issue had been decided for
him, so quickly and so finally. There was no point in trying to
run, no point in trying to fight. He saw the ptertha as he had
never seen one before, saw the livid swirlings of the toxic dust
inside it. Was there a hint of structure there? A globe within a
globe? Was a malign proto-intelligence knowingly sacrificing
itself in order to destroy him ?
The ptertha filled Lains universe.
It was everywhereand then it was nowhere.
He took a deep breath and looked about him with the ruefully
placid gaze of the man who has only one further decision to
make.
Not here, he thought. Not in this blind and circumscribed
placeit isn t at all suitable.
Recalling the higher slope which had afforded the good view
to the east, he retraced his steps along the bed of the ancient
stream, walking slowly now and emitting occasional sighs. When
he reached the slope he sat on the ground with his back to an
agreeably shaped boulder and arranged his robe in neat folds
around his outstretched legs.
The world of his last day was laid out before him. The
triangular outline of Mount Opelmer floated low in the sky,
seemingly detached from the horizontal ribbons and speckled
bands which represented Ro-Atabri and the derelict suburbs on
the shores of Arle Bay. Closer and lower was the artificial
community of the Skyship Quarter, its dozens of balloon
enclosures an illusory city of rectangular towers. The Tree glittered in
the southern heavens, its nine stars challenging the suns
brilliance, and at the zenith a broad crescent of mellow light was
spreading insensibly across the disk of Overland.
The whole span of my life and work is in that scene, Lain
mused. I have brought my writing materials and should try to
make some kind of a summation . . . not that the last thoughts of
one who precipitated his own demise in such a ludicrous fashion
would be of much interest or value to others . . . at most I could
record what is already kno wnthat pterthacosis is not a bad death
. . . as deaths go, that is . . . nature can be merciful. . . as the
most horrific shark bites are often unaccompanied by pain, so the
inhalation of ptertha dust can sometimes engender a strange mood
of resignation, a chemical fatalism . . . in that respect at least, I
appear to be fortunate . . . except that I am deprived of feelings
which are mine by ancient right. . . .
A burning sensation manifested itself below Lains chest and
spread radial tendrils into the rest of his torso. At the same time
the air about him seemed to grow cold, as though the sun had lost
its heat. He put a hand into a pocket of his robe, brought out a
bag made of yellow linen and spread it on his lap. There was a
final duty to be performedbut not yet.
I wish Gesalla were here. . . Gesalla and Toller . . . so that I
could give them to each other, or ask them to accept each other
. . . irony piles upon irony . . . Toller always wanted to be
different, to be more like me . . . and when he became the new
Toller, I was forced to become the old Toller . . . to the final extent
of throwing down my life for the sake of honour, a gesture which
should have been made before my beautiful solewife was ravaged
and defiled by Leddravohr . . . Toller was right about that, and
Iin my so-called wisdomtold him he was wrong . . . Gesalla
knew in her head that he was wrong, and in her heart that he was
right. . . .
A stab of pain in Lains chest was accompanied by a bout of
shivering. The view before him was curiously flat. He could see
more ptertha now. They were drifting down towards the plain in
groups of two and three, but they had no relevance to what was
left of his life. The dream-flow of his fragmentary thoughts was
the new reality.
Poor Toller . . . he became what he aspired to be, and how did I
reward him?. . . with resentment and envy. . . I hurt him on the
day ofGlos interment, only able to do so because he loves me, but
he responded to my childish spite with dignity and forbearance . . . brakka
and ptertha go together. . . I love my little brother#148;
and I wonder if Gesalla even yet realises that she too . . . these
things can take such a long time. . . of course brakka and ptertha
go togetherits a symbiotic partnership . . . only now do I
understand why it was not in my heart to fly to Overland. . . the
future is there, and the future belongs to Gesalla and Toller. . .
could that be the underlying reason for my refusing to ride with
Leddravohr, for choosing my own Bright Road? . . . was I
making Tollers way clear? . . . was I excising an unbalancing
factor from the equation?. . . equations used to mean so much to
me . . . .
The fire in Lains chest was becoming hotter, expanding,
causing him to struggle for breath. He was sweating profusely
and yet his skin felt deathly cold, and the world was merely a
scene painted on rippling cloth. It was time for the yellow hood.
Lain lifted it with clumsy fingers and drew it over his heada
warning to anyone who might come by that he had died of
pterthacosis and that the body was not to be approached for at
least five days. The eye slits were not in the right place, but
he allowed his hands to fall to his side without adjusting
them, content to remain in a private universe of formless and
featureless yellow.
Time and space ran together in that undemanding microcosm.
Yes, I was right about the cave painting. . . the circle represents
a ptertha . . . a colourless ptertha . . . one which has not yet
developed its specialised toxins. . . who was it who once asked me
if the ptertha used to be pink?. . .and what was my reply?. . .did
I say the naked child is not afraid of the globe because he knows it
will not harm him?. . . I know I have always disappointed Toller
in one respect, by my lack of physical courage . . . my disregard
for honour. . . but now he can be proud of me. . . I wish I could
be there to see his face when he hears that I preferred to die rather
than to ride with . . . isnt it strange that the answer to the riddle of
the ptertha has always been visible in the sky?. . . the Tree and the circle
of Overland, symbolising the ptertha, co-existing in harmony . . . the
brakka pollination discharges feed the ptertha with . . . with
what?. . . pollen, green and purple, miglign?. . . and in return
the ptertha seek out and destroy the brakkas enemies . . . Toller
should be protected from Prince Leddravohr . . . he believes himself to be
equal to him, but I fear . . . I FEAR I HAVE NOT TOLD ANYONE ABOUT THE
BRAKKA AND THE PTERTHA! . . . how long have I known? . . . is this a
dream? . . . where is my lovely Gesalla? . . . can I still move my
hands?. . . can I still . . . .
Chapter 17
This what comes of living like a pampered maiden, he told
himself, pressing a damp cloth to his throat and postponing
the act of dressing until the bleeding had stopped. The mirror,
made from two different kinds of glass bonded together,
was almost totally reflective, but when he faced the window
he could discern its brilliant rectangles through the glass
sandwich, apparently occupying the same space as his own
body.
Its only appropriate, he thought. Im becoming insubstantial,
aghast, in preparation for the ascent to Overland. My real life, the
only life that has any significance, will be over and done with
when . . . His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running
footsteps in the adjoining apartment. He turned and saw in the
doorway of the toilet chamber the square-shouldered figure of
Major Yachimalt, the adjutant responsible for communications
between the palace and Skyship Quarter. Yachimalts anxious
eyes took in the fact that Leddravohr was naked and he made as
if to back out of the room.
Forgive me, Prince, he said. I didnt realise. . . .
Whats the matter with you, man? Leddravohr snapped. If
you have a message for me, spit it out.
Its a signal from Colonel Hippern, Prince. He says a mob is
gathering at the main entrance to the Quarter.
He has a full regiment at his disposal, hasnt he? Why should
I concern myself with the activities of a rabble?
The signal says that the Lord Prelate is inciting them,
Prince, Yachimalt replied. Colonel Hippern requests your
authority to place him under arrest.
Balountar! That miserable sack of bones! Leddravohr
threw the looking glass aside and went to the rack which held his
clothing. Tell Colonel Hippern that he is to hold his ground, but
to make no move against Balountar until I arrive. I will deal with
our Lord Scarecrow in person.
Yachimalt saluted and vanished from the doorway. Leddravohr
found himself actually smiling as he dressed quickly and
strapped on his white cuirass. With only five days to go until the
first squadron departed for Overland the preparations for the
migration were virtually complete and he had not looked forward
to a span of enforced idleness. When there was no work to
be done his thoughts all too easily turned to the unnatural ordeal
which lay ahead, and it was then that the pale maggots of fear
and self-doubt began the insidious attack. Now he could almost
feel grateful to the ranting Lord Prelate for presenting him with a
diversion, the opportunity to be fully alive and functional once
more.
Leddravohr buckled on his sword and the knife he wore on his
left arm. He hurried out of his suite, heading for the principal
forecourt, choosing a downward route on which there was little
chance of encountering his father. The King maintained an
excellent intelligence network and would almost certainly have
heard about Lain Maraquines suicidal behaviour of the previous
aftday. Leddravohr had no wish to be quizzed about the absurd
incident at that moment. He had given orders for a team of
draughtsmen to go to the cave and copy the drawings, and he
wanted to be able to present the transcription to his father at
their next meeting. Instinct told him that the King would
be angry and suspicious if, as was almost certainly the case,
Maraquine proved to be dead, but it was possible that the
drawings would mollify him.
On reaching the forecourt Leddravohr signalled for an ostiary
to bring forward the dappled bluehorn he normally rode and in a
matter of seconds he was galloping towards the Skyship Quarter.
Emerging from the double coccoon of netting which enveloped
the palace he entered one of the tubular covered ways which
crossed the four ornamental moats. The sheath of varnished
linen was proof against ptertha dust and provided safe passage
into Ro-Atabri itself, but the sense of being enclosed and herded
was irksome to Leddravohr. He was glad when he reached the
city, where the sky was at least visible through the overhead
mesh works, and he could follow the embankments of the
Borann to the west.
There were few citizens abroad and most of those he saw were
making their way towards the Quarter, seemingly guided by an
extra sense which told them of significant events taking place far
ahead. It was a hot and windless morning, with no threat from
ptertha. When he reached the western limit of the city he ignored
the covered way which ran to the perimeter of the skyship base,
riding south of it in the open air to where he could see a crowd
gathered at the main entrance. The side panels of the flimsy tube
had been furled, enabling the crowd to form a continuous
obstruction across the security gate. On the far side of the gate he
could see a line of pikes projecting into the air, indicating the
presence of soldiers, and he nodded in approvalthe pike was a
good weapon for demonstrating to unruly civilians the error of
their ways.
As he neared the mass of people Leddravohr slowed his
bluehorn to a walking pace. When his approach was noticed the
crowd parted respectfully to make way for him, and he was
surprised to note how many were dressed in ragged garments.
The plight of the ordinary citizens of Ro-Atabri was obviously
worse than he had realised. Amid much whispering and jostling,
the edge of the crowd flowed outwards to create a semicircular
space at the focus of which was the black-robed figure of
Balountar.
The Lord Prelate, who had been haranguing an officer on the
other side of the closed gate, turned to face Leddravohr. He
started visibly at the sight of the military prince, but the
expression of anger on his squeezed-in features did not change.
Leddravohr rode to him at a leisurely pace, dismounted with a
deliberate display of lazy confidence and signalled for the gate to
be opened. Two soldiers drew the heavy gate inwards and now
Leddravohr and Balountar were at the centre of a public arena.
Well, priest, Leddravohr said calmly, what brings you
here?
I think you know why I am here. Balountar waited a full
three seconds before adding the royal form of address, thereby
detaching it from his first remark and creating a deliberate
insolence. Prince.
Leddravohr smiled. If you have come to beg a migration
warrant, you are too latethey have all been disbursed.
I beg for nothing, Balountar said, raising his voice,
addressing the crowd rather than Leddravohr. I come to make
demands. Demands which must be met.
Demands! Nobody had ever dared use that word to
Leddravohr, and as he repeated it a strange thing happened to
him. His body became two bodiesone physical and solid,
anchored to the ground; the other weightless and ethereal,
seemingly capable of drifting on the slightest breeze. The latter
self severed the connection between the two by taking a step
backwards. He felt as if he were no longer in contact with the
surface of the plain, but poised at grass-top height, like a ptertha,
with a comprehensive but detached view of all that was taking
place. From that vantage point he watched, bemused, as his
corporeal self played out an immature game. . . .
Do not dare speak to me of demands! the fleshly Leddravohr
cried. Have you forgotten the authority invested in me by the
King?
I speak with a higher authority, Balountar insisted, yielding
no ground. I speak for the Church, for the Great Permanence,
and I command you to destroy the vehicles with which you plan to
desecrate the High Path. Furthermore, all the food and crystals
and other vital supplies which you have stolen from the people
must be returned to them immediately. Those are my final
words.
You speak truer than you know, Leddravohr breathed. He
unsheathed his battle sword, but some lingering vestige of regard
for the processes of law dissuaded him from driving the black
blade through the Lord Prelates body. Instead, he moved away
from Balountar, turned to the watchful army officers nearby and
addressed himself to a stony-faced Colonel Hippern.
Arrest the traitor, he said sharply.
Hippern gave a low command and two soldiers ran forward,
swords drawn. A curious growling, grumbling sound arose from
the crowd as the soldiers took Balountar by the arms and marched
him, in spite of his struggles, inside the line of the Quarters
perimeter. Hippern looked questioningly at Leddravohr.
What are you waiting for? Leddravohr stabbed a forefinger
towards the ground, indicating that he wanted the Lord Prelate
forced to his knees. You know the punishment for high treason.
Get on with it!
Hippern, face impassive beneath the rim of his ornate helmet,
spoke again to the officers near him and a few seconds later a burly
high-sergeant ran towards the two soldiers who were restraining
Balountar. The Lord Prelate redoubled his efforts to break free,
his black-swathed body undergoing inhuman contortions as his
captors forced him to the ground. He raised his face to his
executioner. His mouth opened wide as he tried to utter a prayer or
a curse, creating a target which the sergeant chose unthinkingly
on the murderous instant. The sergeants blade drove into
Balountars mouth and emerged under the base of his skull,
severing the spine, ending his life between heartbeats. The two
soldiers released his body and stepped back from it as a moan of
consternation went up from the crowd. A large pebble arched
through the air and skittered through the dust near Leddravohrs
feet.
For a moment the prince looked as though he would launch
himself at the mob and attack them single-handed, then he
wheeled on the high-sergeant. Get the priests head off. Elevate it
on a pike so that his followers can continue to look up to him.
The sergeant nodded and went about his grisly work with the
unruffled dexterity of a pork butcher, and within a minute
Balountars head had been raised on a pikestaff which was then
lashed to a gatepost. Rivulets of blood spead swiftly down the
staff.
There was a long moment of utter silencea silence which
burrowed into the earsand it seemed that an impasse had been
reached. Then it gradually became apparent to those watching
from within the base that the situation was not truly staticthe
semi-circle of ground visible beyond the gate was slowly shrinking.
Those on the edge of the mass of human beings appeared not
to be moving their feet, but they were advancing nonetheless, like
ranks of statues which were being inched forward by an inexorable
pressure from behind. Evidence of the tremendous force
being exerted came when a fence post to the right of the gate
creaked and began to lean in wards.
Close the gate, Colonel Hippern shouted.
Leave the gate! Leddravohr faced the colonel. The army
does not cower away from a civilian rabble. Order your men to
clear the entire area.
Hippern swallowed, showing his unease, but he met Leddravohrs
gaze directly. Thesituation is difficult, Prince. This is a
local regiment, mostly drawn from Ro-Atabri itself, and the men
wont take to the idea of going against their own.
Do I hear you properly, colonel? Leddravohr altered his
grip on his sword and a worm of white light coiled in his eyes.
Since when have common soldiers become arbiters in the affairs
of Kolcorron?
Hippern s throat worked again, but his courage did not desert
him. Since they became hungry, Prince. It was ever the way.
Unexpectedly, Leddravohr smiled. Thats your professional
judgment, is it, colonel? Now observe me closelyI am going to
teach you something about the essential nature of command. He
turned, took several paces towards the triple row of waiting
soldiers and raised his sword.
Disperse the rabble! he shouted, sweeping his sword downwards
to indicate the direction of attack against the advancing
crowd. Soldiers broke rank immediately and ran to engage the
foremost of the intruders, and the comparative silence which had
pervaded the scene was lost in a sudden uproar. The crowd fell
back, but instead of fleeing in complete disarray its members
compacted again, having receded but a short distance, and it was
then that a significant fact emergedthat only one third of the
soldiers had obeyed Leddravohrs command. The others had
scarcely moved and were gazing unhappily at their nearest junior
officers. Even the soldiers who had confronted the mob appeared
to have done so in a tame and half-hearted manner. They were
allowing themselves to be overcome easily, losing their weapons
with such rapidity that they had become an asset to the surging
throng. Cheering was heard as a large section of the covered way
was pulled to the ground and its framing broken up to provide
even more weapons. . . .
The other Leddravohrcool, ethereal and uninvolvedwatched
with a mild degree of interest as the body-locked, carnate
Leddravohr ran to a fresh-faced lieutenant and ordered him to
lead his men against the crowd. The lieutenant was seen to shake
his head in argument and a second later he was dead, almost
decapitated by a single stroke of the princes blade. Leddravohr
had lost his humanity, had ceased to register on the senses as a
human being. Craned forward and shambling, black sword
hurling a crimson spray, he went among his officers and men like
a terrible demon, wreaking destruction.
How long can this go on? the other Leddravohr mused. Is there
no limit to what the men will stand?
His attention was suddenly drawn to a new phenomenon. The
sky in the east was growing dark as columns of smoke ascended
from several districts of the city. It could only mean that the
ptertha screens were burning, that some members of the community
had been driven by anger and frustration to make the
ultimate protest against the present order.
The message was clearthat all would go down together.
Rich man and poor man alike. King and pauper alike.
At the thought of the King, alone and vulnerable in the Great
Palace, the other Leddravohrs composure disintegrated. Vital
and urgent work had to be done; he had responsibilities whose
importance far outweighed that of a clash involving a few
hundred citizens and soldiers.
He took a step towards his complementary self, and there
came a swooping sensation, a blurring of time and space . . . .
Prince Leddravohr Neldeever opened his eyes to a flood of
harsh sunlight. The haft of his sword was wet in his hand, and
around him were the sounds of turmoil and the colours of
carnage. He surveyed the scene for a moment, blinking as he
sought to reorientate himself in a changed reality, then he
sheathed his sword and ran towards his waiting bluehorn.
Chapter 18
Leddravohr has done this, he thought. This is the harvest I reap
for allowing the monster to stay alive. He abandoned my brother
to the ptertha!
The foreday sun was still low in the east, but in the total
absence of air movement the rocky hillside was already beginning
to throw up heat. Toller was torn between passion and
prudencethe desire to run to his brothers body and the need
to remain at a safe distance. His blurred vision showed something
white gleaming on the sunken chest, held in place by the
waistcord of the grey robe and one slim hand.
Paper? Could it be, Tollers heart speeded up at the thought,
an indictment of Leddravohr?
He took out the stubby telescope he had carried since boyhood
and directed it at the white rectangle. His tears conspired
with the fierce brilliance of the image to make the scrawled
words difficult to read, but at length he received Lains final
communication:
PTERTHA FRIENDS OF BRAK. KILL US BECAU WE KILL BRAK. BRAK
FEED PTERTH. IN RETURN P PROTEC B. CLEAR-->PINK-->PURPLE P
EVOLV TOXINS. WE MUS LIVE IN HARMONY WITH B. LOOK TO SKY
Toller turned to walk across the slope to where the sergeant
was waiting with the two bluehorns. He was fully in control of
himself and there were no longer any tears to interfere with his
vision, but now his thoughts were dominated by a new question
which was raking his brain with the force and persistence of
waves clawing at a beach.
How can I live without my brother? The heat reflected from
slabs of stone pressed against his eyes, entered his mouth. Its
going to be a long hot day, and how am I going to live through it
without my brother?
I grieve with you, captain, Engluh said. Your brother was
a good man.
Yes. Toller stared at the sergeant, trying to suppress his
feelings of dislike. This was the man who had been formally
entrusted with Lains safety, and who remained alive while Lain
was dead. There was little the sergeant could have done against
ptertha in this kind of terrain, and according to his story he had
been dismissed by Leddravohr; and yet his presence among the
living was an affront to the primitive in Tollers character.
Do you want to go back now, captain? Engluh showed no
signs of being discomfited by Tollers scrutiny. He was a hardlooking
veteran, undoubtedly skilled in the art of preserving his
own skin, but Toller could not judge him as being untrustworthy.
Not yet, Toller said. I want to find the bluehorn.
Very good, captain. A flickering in the depths of the
sergeants brown eyes showed his awareness of the fact that
Toller had not fully accepted Prince Leddravohrs terse account
of the previous days events. Ill show you the path we took.
Toller mounted his bluehorn and rode behind Engluh as they
worked their way up the hill. About halfway to the top they came
to an area of laminated rock bounded on its lower edge by an
accumulation of flakes. The remains of the bluehorn lay on the
loose material, already stripped to a skeleton by multipedes
and other scavengers. Even the saddle and harness had been
shredded and gnawed in places. Toller felt a coolness on his
spine as he realised that Lains body would have suffered a
similar fate but for the ptertha poison in the tissues. His bluehorn
had begun to toss its head and behave nervously, but he guided it
closer to the skeleton and frowned as he saw the fractured
shinbone. My brother was living when that happenedand now
hes dead. As the pain raged through him with renewed forced he
closed his eyes and tried to think about the unthinkable.
According to what he had been told, Sergeant Engluh and the
other three soldiers had ridden to the west entrance of Skyship
Quarter after being dismissed by Leddravohr. They had waited
there for Lain and had been astonished to see Leddravohr
returning alone.
The prince had been in a strange mood, angry and jovial at
once, and on seeing Engluh was reported to have said, Prepare
yourself for a long wait, sergeantyour master disabled his
mount and now he is playing hide-and-seek with the ptertha.
Thinking it was expected of him, Engluh had volunteered to
gallop back to the hill with a spare bluehorn, but Leddravohr had
said, Stay where you are! He chose to play a dangerous game
with his own lifeand that is no sport for a good soldier.
Toller had made the sergeant repeat his account several times
and the only interpretation he could place on it was that Lain had
been offered transportation to safety, but had wilfully elected
to flirt with death. Leddravohr was above the need to lie about
any of his actionsand still Toller was unable to accept what he
had been told. Lain Maraquine, who had been known to faint at
the sight of blood, would have been the last man in the world to
pit himself against the globes. Had he wanted to take his life he
would have found a better waybut in any case there had been
no reason for him to commit suicide. He had had too much to live
for. No, there was a mystery central to what had happened on
the barren hillside on the previous day, and Toller knew of only
one man who could clear it up. Leddravohr may not have lied,
but he knew more than. . . .
Captain! Engluh spoke in a startled whisper. Look over
there!
Toller followed the line of his pointing finger to the east and
blinked as he saw the unmistakable dark brown shape of a
balloon lifting into the sky above Ro-Atabri. A few seconds later
it was joined by three others climbing in close formation, almost
as though the mass ascent to Overland was beginning days ahead
of schedule.
Something has gone wrong, Toller thought before he was
stricken by a sense of personal outrage. The death of Lain would
have been more than enough to contend with on its own, but to
that had been added aggravating doubt and suspicionand now
skyships were rising from the Quarter in contravention of all the
rigid planning that had gone into the migration flight. There was
a limit to how much his mind could encompass at a single time,
and the universe was unfairly choosing to disregard it.
I have to go back now, he said, urging his bluehorn into
motion. They rode down the hill, rounded a briar-covered
shoulder and reached the open slope where Lains body lay. The
unrestricted view to the east showed that more balloons were
rising from the line of enclosures, but Tollers gaze was drawn to
the dappled sweeps of the city beyond. Columns of dark smoke
were rising from the central districts.
It looks like a war, captain, Engluh said in wonderment,
rising in his stirrups.
Perhaps thats what it is. Toller glanced once towards the
inert anonymous shape that had been his brotherYou will live
in me, Lainthen spurred his mount forward in the direction of
the city.
He had been aware of the growing restlessness among Ro-Atabris
beleaguered population, but he found it hard to imagine
how civil disturbances could have any real effect on the ordered
course of events within the Quarter. Leddravohr had installed
army units in a crescent between the skyship base and the edge of
the city itself, and had seen to it that they were controlled by
officers he could trust even in the unique circumstances of the
migration. The commanders were men who had no personal
wish to fly to Overland and were stubbornly committed to
preserving Ro-Atabri as an entity, come what may. Toller had
believed the base to be secure, even in the event of full-scale
riots, but the skyships were taking off long before their
appointed time. . . .
On reaching flat grassland he put the bluehorn into a full
gallop and watched intently as the bases perimeter barrier
expanded across his field of view. The west entrance was little
used because it faced open countryside, but as he drew closer he
saw there were large groups of mounted soldiers and infantry
behind the gate, and supply wagons could be seen on the move
beyond the double screens where they curved away to the north
and south. More ships were drifting up into the morning sky,
and the hollow roars of their burners were mingling with the
clacking of the inflation fans and the background shouting of
overseers.
The outer gates were swung open for Toller and the sergeant,
then slammed shut again as soon as they had entered the buffer
zone. Toller reined his bluehorn to a halt as he was approached
by an army captain who was carrying his orange-crested helmet
under his arm.
Are you Skycaptain Toller Maraquine? he said, mopping
his glistening brow.
Yes. What has happened?
Prince Leddravohr orders you to report to Enclosure 12
immediately.
Toller nodded his assent. What has happened?
What makes you think anything has happened? the captain
said bitterly. He turned and strode away, issuing angry orders to
the nearest soldiers, who had an overtly sullen look.
Toller considered going after him and extracting an informative
reply, but at that moment he noticed a blue-uniformed
figure beckoning to him from the inner gate. It was Ilven
Zavotle, newly commissioned to the rank of pilot lieutenant.
Toller rode to him and dismounted, noting as he did so that the
young man looked pale and troubled.
Im glad youre back, Toller, Zavotle said anxiously. I
heard you had gone out to look for your brother, and I came to
warn you about Prince Leddravohr.
Leddravohr? Toller glanced upwards as a skyship briefly
occulted the sun. What about Leddravohr?
Hes insane, Zavotle said, looking about him to ensure the
treasonous statement had not been overheard. Hes at the
enclosures now . . . driving the loaders and inflation crews . . .
sword in hand . . . I saw him cut a man down just for stopping to
take a drink.
He . . . ! Tollers consternation and bafflement increased.
What brought all this about?
Zavotle looked up at him in surprise. You dont know? You
must have left the Quarter before. . . Everything happened in a
couple of hours, Toller.
What happened? Speak up, Ilven, or therell be more
swordplay.
Lord Prelate Balountar led a citizens march on the base. He
demanded that all the ships be destroyed and the supplies
distributed among the people. Leddravohr had him arrested and
beheaded on the spot.
Toller narrowed his eyes as he visualised the scene. That was
a mistake.
A bad one, Zavotle agreed, but that was only the beginning.
Balountar had the crowds worked up with religion and
promises of food and crystals. When they saw his head on a pole
they started tearing down our screens. Leddravohr sent the army
against them, but . . . it was an amazing thing, Toller . . . most
of the soldiers refused to fight.
They defied Leddravohr?
Theyre local menmost of them drawn from Ro-Atabri
itselfand they were being ordered to massacre their own
people. Zavotle paused as a skyship overhead produced a
thunderous roar. The soldiers are hungry, too, and theres
a feeling abroad that Leddravohr is turning his back on
them.
Even so. . . . Toller found it almost impossible to imagine
ordinary soldiers rebelling against the military prince.
That was when Leddravohr really became possessed. They
say he killed more than a dozen officers and men. They wouldnt
obey his orders. . . but they wouldnt defend themselves against
him either . . . and he butchered them. . . . Zavotles voice
faltered. Like pigs, Toller. Just like pigs.
In spite of the enormity of what he was hearing, Toller
developed an unaccountable feeling that he had another and
more pressing cause for concern. How did it end?
The fires in the city. When Leddravohr saw the smoke . . .
realised the ptertha screens were burning . . . he came to his
senses. He pulled all the men who remained loyal to him back
inside the perimeter, and now hes trying to get the whole
skyship fleet off the ground before the rebels organise themselves
and invade the base. Zavotle studied the nearby soldiers
from beneath lowered brows. This lot are supposed to
defend the west gate, but if you ask me they arent too sure
which side theyre on. Blue uniforms are no longer popular
around here. We should get back to the enclosures as soon
as. . . .
The words faded from Tollers hearing as his mind made a
rapid series of leaps, each one bringing him closer to the source
of his subconscious alarm. The fires in the city. . . ptertha screens
burning. . . there has been no rain for many days. . . when the
screens go the city will be indefensible . . . the migration MUST
get under way at once. . . and that means. . . .
Gesalla! Toller blurted the name in a sudden accession of
panic and self-recrimination. How could he have forgotten her
for so long? She would be waiting at home in the Square House
. . . still without confirmation of Lains death . . . and the flight
to Overland had already begun. . . .
Did you hear me? Zavotle said. We should be. . . .
Never mind that, Toller cut in. Whats been done about
notifying the migrants and bringing them in?
The King and Prince Chakkell are already at the enclosures.
All the other royals and nobles have to get here under the
protection of their own guards. Its a shambles, Toller. The
ordinary migrants will have to get through by themselves, and
the way things are out there I doubt if. . . .
Im indebted to you for meeting me here, Ilven, Toller said,
turning to mount his bluehorn. I seem to remember you telling
me when we were up therefreezing to death and with nothing
to do but count the falling starsthat you have no family. Is that
right?
Yes.
In that case you should get back to the enclosures and take
the first ship that becomes available to you. I am not free to leave
just yet.
Zavotle came forward as Toller swung himself into the saddle.
Leddravohr wants us both as royal pilots, Toller. You especially,
because nobody else has turned a ship over.
Forget that you saw me, Toller said. Ill be back as soon as
lean.
He rode into the base, taking a route which kept him well away
from the balloon enclosures. The ptertha nets overhead were
casting their patterns of shadow on a scene of confused and
frenetic activity. It had been intended that the migration fleet
would depart in an orderly manner over a period of between ten
and twenty days, depending on weather conditions. Now there
was a race to see how many ships could be despatched before the
Quarter was overrun by dissenters, and the situation was made
even more desperate by the fact that the vulnerable ptertha
screens had been attacked. It was fortunate that there was no
perceptible air movementa circumstance which aided the
skyship crews and kept ptertha activity to the minimumbut
with the arrival of night the livid globes would come in force.
In their haste to load supply carts workers were tearing down
the wooden storage huts with their bare hands. Soldiers belonging
to the newly formed Overland Regimenttheir loyalty
guaranteed because they were due to fly with Leddravohrroamed
the area, noisily exhorting base personnel to make
greater efforts and in some cases joining in the work. Here and
there amid the chaos wandered small groups of men, women and
children who had obtained migration warrants in the provinces
and had arrived at the Quarter well in advance of their flights.
Above and through everything drifted the racket of the inflation
fans, the unnerving spasmodic roar of skyship burners and the
marshy odour of free miglign gas.
Toller attracted scant attention from anybody as he rode
through storage and workshop sections, but on reaching the
covered way which ran east to the city he found its entrance
guarded by a large detachment of soldiers. Officers with them
were questioning everybody who passed through. Toller moved
to one side and used his telescope to survey the distant exit.
Compressed perspectives made the image hard to interpret, but
he could see massed foot soldiers and some mounted groups, and
beyond them crowds thronging the sloping streets where the city
proper began. There was little evidence of movement, but it was
obvious that a confrontation was still taking place and that the
normal route to the city was impassable.
He was considering what to do when his attention was caught
by shifting specks of colour in the scrubby land which stretched
off to the south-east in the direction of the Greenmount suburb.
The telescope revealed them to be civilians hurrying towards the
centre of the base. From the high proportion of women and
children Toller deduced they were emigrants who had breached
the perimeter fence at a point remote from the main entrance.
He turned away from the tunnel, located an auxiliary exit
through the double ptertha meshes and rode out towards the
advancing citizenry. When he got close to the leaders they
brandished their blue-and-white migration warrants.
Keep heading towards the balloon enclosures, he shouted
to them. Well get you away.
The anxious-faced men and women called out their thanks and
hurried on, some carrying or dragging infants. Turning to look
after them, Toller saw that their arrival had been noticed and
mounted men were coming out to meet them. The sky behind
the riders made a unique spectacle. Perhaps fifty ships were now
in the air over the enclosures, dangerously crowded at the lower
levels and straggling out as they receded into the zenith.
Not pausing to see what kind of reception the migrantswould
receive, Toller spurred his bluehorn on towards Greenmount.
Far off to his right, in Ro-Atabri itself, the fires appeared to be
spreading. The city was built of stone, but the timber and rope
with which it had been cocooned to ward off the ptertha were
highly flammable and the fires were becoming large enough to
create their own convection systems, gaining ground with no
assistance from the elements. It was only necessary, Toller
knew, for a slight breeze to spring up and the whole city would be
engulfed in a matter of minutes.
He urged the bluehorn into a gallop, judging his direction
from the groups of refugees he met, and eventually espied a
place where the perimeter barricade had been pulled to the
ground. He rode through the gap, ignoring apprehensive stares
from people who were clambering across the stakes, and chose a
direct route up the hill towards the Square House. The streets he
had roamed as a boy were littered and deserted, part of the alien
territory of the past.
A minute after entering Greenmount district he rounded a
corner and encountered a band of five civilians who had armed
themselves with staves. Although obviously not migrants, they
were hurrying towards the Quarter. Toller divined at once that it
was their intention to harass and perhaps rob some of the
migrant families he had seen earlier.
They spread out to block the narrow street and their leader, a
slack-jawed hulk in a cloak thonged with dried pillar snakes,
said, What do you think youre doing, bluecoat?
Toller, who could easily have ridden the man down, reined to
a halt. As you ask so politely, I dont mind telling you that Im
deciding whether or not I should kill you.
Kill me! The man pounded the ground imperiously with his
staff, apparently in the belief that all skymen went unarmed.
And exactly how . . . ?
Toller drew his sword with a horizontal sweep which lopped
the staff just above the mans hand. That could just have easily
been your wrist or your neck, he said mildly. Do any or all of
you wish to pursue the matter?
The four others eyed each other and backed away.
We have no quarrel with you, sir, the cloaked man said,
nursing the hand which had been jarred by the fierce impact on
his staff. Well go peaceably on our way.
You wont. Toller used his brakka blade to point out an
alley which led away from the skyship base. You will go that
way, and back to your dens. I will be returning to the Quarter in a
few minutesand I swear that if I set eyes on any of you again it
will be my sword that does all the talking. Now go!
As soon as the men had passed out of sight he sheathed his
sword and resumed the ascent of the hill. He doubted if his
warning would have a lasting effect on the ruffians, but he had
spared as much time as he could on behalf of the migrants, all of
whom would have to learn to face many rigours in the coming
days. A glance at the narrowing crescent of light on the disk of
Overland told him there was not much more than an hour until
littlenight, and it was imperative that he should take Gesalla to
the base before then.
On reaching the crest of Greenmount he galloped through
silent avenues to the Square House and dismounted in the walled
precinct. He went into the entrance hall and was met by Sany,
the rotund cook, and a balding manservant who was unknown to
him.
Master Toller! Sany cried. Have you news of your
brother?
Toller felt a renewed shock of bereavementthe pressure of
events had suspended his normal emotional processes. My
brother is dead, he said. Where is your mistress?
In her bedchamber. Sany pressed both hands to her throat.
This is a terrible day for all of us.
Toller ran to the main stair, but paused on the first flight.
Sany, Im returning to the Skyship Quarter in a few minutes. I
strongly advise you and. . . . He looked questioningly at the
manservant.
Harribend, sir.
. . . you and Harribendand any other domestics who are
still hereto come with me. The migration has started ahead
of time in great confusion, and even though you dont have
warrants I think I can get you places on a ship.
Both servants backed away from him. I couldnt go into the
sky before my time, Sany said. It isnt natural. It isnt right.
There are riots in the city and the ptertha screens are
burning.
Be that as it may, Master Tollerwell take our chances here
where we belong.
Think hard about it, Toller said. He went up to the landing
and through the familiar corridor which led to the south side of
the house, unable to accept fully that this was the last occasion on
which he would see the ceramic figurines glowing in their niches,
or his blurred reflection ghosting along the polished glasswood
panels. The door to the principal bedchamber was open.
Gesalla was standing at the window which framed a view of the
city in which the dominant features were the seemingly motionless
columns of grey and white smoke intersecting the natural
blue and green horizontals of Arle Bay and the Gulf of Tronom.
She was dressed as he had never seen her before, in a waistcoat
and breeches of grey whipcord complemented by a lighter grey
shirtthe whole being almost a muted echo of his own skymans
uniform. A sudden timidity made him refrain from speaking or
tapping the door. How was one to impart the kind of news he
bore?
Gesalla turned and looked at him with wise, sombre eyes.
Thank you for coming, Toller.
Its about Lain, he said, entering the room. Im afraid I
bring bad news.
I knew he had to be dead when there was no message by
nightfall. Her voice was cool, almost brisk. All that was
needed was the confirmation.
Toller was unprepared for her lack of emotion. Gesalla,
I dont know how to tell you this . . . at a time like this . . . but
you have seen the fires in the city. We have no choice but
to. . . .
Im ready to leave, Gesalla said, picking up a tightly rolled
bundle which had been on a chair. These are all the personal
possessions Ill need. It isnt too much, is it?
He stared at her beautiful unperturbed face for a moment,
battling with an irrational resentment. Have you any idea
where were going?
Where else but to Overland? The skyships are leaving.
According to what I could decipher of the sunwriter messages
coming out of the Great Palace, civil war is breaking out in
Ro-Atabri and the King has already fled. Do you think Im
stupid, Toller?
Stupid? No, youre very intelligentvery logical.
Did you expect me to be hysterical? Was I to be carried out of
here screaming that I was afraid to go into the sky, where only
the heroic Toller Maraquine has been? Was I to weep and plead
for time to strew flowers around my husbands body?
No, I didnt expect you to weep. Toller was dismayed by
what he was saying, yet was unable to hold back. I dont expect
you to feign grief.
Gesalla struck him across the face, her hand moving so quickly
that he was given no chance to avoid the blow. Never say
anything like that to me again. Never make that kind of presumption
about me! Now, are we leaving or are we going to stand here
and talk all day?
The sooner we leave the better, he said stonily, resisting the
urge to finger the stinging patch on his cheek. Ill take your
pack.
Gesalla snatched the bundle away from him and slung it from
her shoulders. I made it for me to carryyou have enough to
do. She slipped past him into the corridor, moving lightly and
with deceptive speed, and had reached the main stair before he
caught up with her.
What about Sany and the other servants? he said. Leaving
them doesnt sit easy with me.
She shook her head. Lain and I both tried to talk them into
applying for warrants, and we failed. You cant force people to
go, Toller.
I suppose youre right. He walked with her to the entrance,
taking a last nostalgic look around the hall, and went out to the
precinct where his bluehorn was waiting. Where is your
carriage?
I dont knowLain took it yesterday.
Does that mean we have to ride together?
Gesalla sighed. I have no intention of trotting along beside
you.
Very well. Feeling oddly selfconscious, Toller climbed into
the saddle and extended a hand to Gesalla. He was surprised
at how little effort it took to help her spring into place behind
him, and even more so when she slipped her arms around his
waist and pressed herself to his back. Some bodily contact was
necessary, but if almost seemed as though she . . . He dismissed
the half-formed thought, appalled by his obscene readiness to
think of Gesalla in a sexual context, and put the bluehorn into a
fast trot.
On leaving the precinct and turning north-west he saw that
many more ships were now in the sky above the Quarter,
dwindling into specks as they were absorbed by the blue depths
of the upper atmosphere. A slight eastward drift was becoming
apparent in their movement, which meant that the chaos of the
departure might soon be made worse by the arrival of ptertha.
Off to his left the towers of smoke rising from the city were being
horizontally sheared and smeared where they reached high
level air currents. Burning trees created occasional powdery
explosions.
Toller rode down the hill as fast as was compatible with safety.
The streets were as empty as before, but he was increasingly
aware of the sounds of tumult coming from directly ahead. He
emerged from the last screen of abandoned buildings and found
that the scene at the Quarters periphery had changed.
The break in the barricade had been enlarged and groups
totalling perhaps a hundred had gathered there, denied entry to
the base by ranks of infantry. Stones and pieces of timber were
being hurled at the soldiers who, although armed with swords
and javelins, were not retaliating. Several mounted officers were
stationed behind the soldiers, and Toller knew by their sleeved
swords and the green flashes on their shoulders that they were
part of a Sorka regiment, men who were loyal to Leddravohr and
had no particular affiliations with Ro-Atabri. It was a situation
which could erupt into carnage at any moment, and if that
happened rebel soldiers would probably be drawn to the spot to
turn it into a miniature theatre of war.
Hold on and keep your head down, he said to Gesalla as he
drew his sword. We have to go in hard.
He spurred the bluehorn into a gallop. The powerful beast
responded readily, covering the intervening ground in a few
wind-rushing seconds. Toller had hoped to take the rioters
completely unawares and burst through them before they could
react, but the pounding of hooves on the hard clay attracted the
attention of men who had turned to gather stones.
Theres a bluecoat, the cry went up. Get the filthy
bluecoat!
The sight of the massive charging animal and of Tollers battle
sword was enough to scatter all from his path, but there was
no escaping the irregular volley of missiles. Toller was struck
solidly on the upper arm and thigh, and a skimming piece
of slate laid open the knuckles of his rein hand. He kept
the bluehorn on course through the overturned timbers of
the barricade and had almost reached the lines of soldiers
when he heard a thud and felt an impact transmitted through
Gesallas body. She gasped and slackened her hold for an
instant, then recovered her strength. The lines of soldiers
parted to make way for him and he pulled the bluehorn to a
halt.
Is it bad? he said to Gesalla, unable to turn in the saddle or
dismount because of her grip on him.
It isnt serious, she replied in a voiceiie could scarcely hear.
You must go on.
A bearded lieutenant approached them, saluted and caught
the bluehorns bridle. Are you Skycaptain Toller Maraquine?
I am.
You are to report immediately to Prince Leddravohr at
Enclosure 12.
Thats what Im trying to do, lieutenant, Toller said. It
would be easier if you stepped aside.
Sir, Prince Leddravohrs orders made no mention of a
woman.
Toller raised his eyebrows and met the lieutenants gaze
directly. What of it?
I . . . Nothing, sir. The lieutenant released the bridle and
moved back.
Toller urged the bluehorn forward, heading for the row of
balloon enclosures. It had been found, though nobody had
explained the phenomenon, that perforated barriers protected
balloons from air disturbances better than solid screens. The
open western sky was shining through square apertures in the
enclosures, making them look more than ever like a line of lofty
towers, at the foot of which was the seething activity of
thousands of workers, air crew and emigrants with all their
paraphernalia and supplies.
It said much for the organising ability of Leddravohr, Chakkell
and their appointees that the system was able to function at
all in such extreme circumstances. Ships were still taking off in
groups of two or three, and it occurred to Toller that it was
almost a miracle that there had been no serious accidents.
At that moment, as if the thought had engendered the event,
the gondola of a ship rising too quickly struck the rim of its
enclosure. The ship was oscillating as it shot into clear air and
at a height of two-hundred feet overtook another which had
departed some seconds earlier. At the limit of one of its pendulum
swings the gondola of the uncontrolled ship drove sideways into
the balloon of the slower craft. The latters envelope split and
lost its symmetry, flapping and rippling like some wounded
creature of the deep, and the ship plunged to the ground, its
acceleration struts trailing loosely. It landed squarely on a group
of supply wagons. The impact must have severed its burner feed
lines for there was an immediate gouting of flame and black
smoke, and the barking of injured or terrified bluehorns was
added to the general commotion.
Toller tried not to think about the fate of those on board. The
other ships appallingly bad take-off had looked like the work of
a novice, making it seem that many of the one thousand qualified
pilots assigned to the migration fleet were not available, possibly
stranded by the disturbances in the city. New dangers had been
added to the already daunting array of hazards facing the
interworld voyagers.
He could feel Gesallas head lolling against his back as they
rode towards the enclosure, and his anxiety about her increased.
Her lightweight frame was ill-equipped to withstand the sort of
blow he had felt at a remove. As he neared the twelfth enclosure
he saw that it and the three adjoining to the north were heavily
ringed by foot soldiers and cavalry. In the protected zone there
was an area of comparative calm. Four balloons were waiting in
the enclosures, with the inflation teams to hand, and knots of
richly dressed men and women were standing by heaps of
ornamented cases and other belongings. Some of the men were
sipping drinks as they craned to see the crashed ship, while small
children darted around their legs as though at play on a family
outing.
Toller scanned the area and was able to pick out a group at the
core of which were Leddravohr, Chakkell and Pouche, all
standing close to the seated figure of King Prad. The ruler,
slumped on an ordinary chair, was staring at the ground,
apparently oblivious to all that was happening. He looked old
and dispirited, in marked contrast to the vigorous aspect which
Toller remembered.
A youngish army captain came forward to meet Toller as he
reined the bluehorn to a halt. He looked surprised when he saw
Gesalla, but helped her to the ground readily enough and
without any comment. Toller dismounted and saw that her face
was totally without colour. She was swaying a little and her eyes
had a distant, abstracted look which told him she was in severe
pain.
Perhaps I should carry you, he said as the ranks of soldiers
parted at a signal from the captain.
I can walk, I can walk, she whispered. Take your hands
away, Tollerthe beast is not to see me being assisted.
Toller nodded, impressed by her courage, and walked ahead
of her towards the royal group. Leddravohr turned to face him
and for once did not produce his snake-strike of a smile. His eyes
were smouldering in the marble-smooth face. There was a
diagonal spattering of crimson on his white cuirass, and blood
was congealing thickly around the top of his scabbard, but his
manner was suggestive of controlled anger rather than the insane
rage of which Zavotle had spoken.
I sent for you hours ago, Maraquine, he said icily. Where
have you been?
Viewing the remainsof my brother, Tollersaid, deliberately
omitting the required form of address. There is something
highly suspicious about his death.
Do you know what you are saying?
Yes.
I see you have returned to your old ways. Leddravohr
moved closer and lowered his voice. My father once extracted a
vow from me that I would not harm you, but I will regard myself
as released from that vow when we reach Overland. Then, I
promise you, I will give you what you have sought so longbut
for now more important matters must engage my attention.
Leddravohr turned and padded away, giving a signal to the
launch supervisors. At once the balloon inflating crews went to
work, cranking the big fans into noisy life. King Prad raised his
head, startled, and looked about him with his single troubled
eye. The spurious festive mood deserted the various noblemen
as the clatter of the fans impressed on them that the
unprecedented flight into the unknown was about to begin.
Family groups drew together, the children ceased their play,
and servants made ready to transfer their masters belongings
to the ships which would depart in the wake of the royal
flight.
Beyond the protective lines of guards was a sea of apparently
undirected activity as the work of despatching the migration fleet
continued. Men were running everywhere, and supply wagons
careered among the lumbering flatbed carts which were transporting
skyships to the enclosures. Farther away across the open
ground of the Quarter, taking advantage of the near-perfect
weather conditions, the pilots of cargo ships were inflating their
balloons and taking off without the aid of windbreaks. The sky
was now thronged with ships, rising like a cloud of strange
airborne spores towards the fiery crescent of Overland.
Toller was awed by the sheer drama of the spectacle, the proof
that when driven to the limit his own kind had the courage and
ability to stride like gods from one world to another, but he was
also bemused by what he had just heard from Leddravohr.
The vow of which Leddravohr had spoken explained certain
thingsbut why had he been asked to make it in the first place?
What had prompted the King to single one of his subjects out of
so many and place him under his personal protection? Intrigued
by the new mystery, Toller glanced thoughtfully in the direction
of the seated figure of the King and experienced a peculiar thrill
when he saw that Prad was staring directly at him. A moment
later the King pointed a finger at Toller, casting a line of psychic
force through the groups of bystanders, and then beckoned to
him. Ignoring the curious gazes of royal attendants, Toller
approached the King and bowed.
You have served me well, Toller Maraquine, Prad said in a
tired but firm voice. And now it is in my mind to charge you
with one further responsibility.
You have but to name it, Majesty, Toller replied, his sense
of unreality increasing as Prad gestured for him to move closer
and stoop to receive a private message.
See to it, the King whispered, that my name is remembered
on Overland.
Majesty. . . .Toller straightened up, beset with confusion.
Majesty, I dont understand.
Understanding will comenow go to your post.
Toller bowed and backed away, but before he had time to
ponder on the brief exchange he was summoned by Colonel
Kartkang, former chief administrator for the S.E.S. Following
the dissolution of the Experimental Squadron the colonel had
been given the responsibility for coordinating the departure of
the royal flight, a task he could hardly have foreseen carrying out
in such adverse conditions. His lips were moving silently as he
directed Toller to a spot where Leddravohr was addressing three
pilots. One of them was Ilven Zavotle, and another was Gollav
Amberan experienced man who had been short-listed for the
proving flight. The third was a thick-bodied red-bearded man in
his forties, who wore the uniform of a skycommander. After a
moments thought, Toller identified him as Halsen Kedalse, a
former aircaptain and royal messenger.
. . decided that we will travel in separate ships,
Leddravohr was saying as his gaze flickered towards Toller.
Maraquinethe one officer who has experience of taking a ship past
the midpointwill have the responsibility of piloting my fathers
ship. I will fly with Zavotle. Prince Chakkell will go with
Kedalse, and Prince Pouche with Amber. Each of you will now
go to his designated ship and prepare to ascend before littlenight
is on us.
The four pilots saluted and were about to walk to the enclosures
when Leddravohr halted them by raising a hand. He studied
them for what seemed a long time, looking uncharacteristically
irresolute, before he spoke again. On reflection, Kedalse has
flown my father many times during his long service as an
aircaptain. He will fly the Kings ship on this occasion, and
Prince Chakkell will go with Maraquine. That is all.
Toller saluted again and turned away, wondering what was
signified by Leddravohrs change of mind. He had been quick to
take the point when Toller had said he was suspicious about
Lains death. My brother is dead! Was that an indication of guilt?
Had some grotesque twist of thought made Leddravohr unwilling
to entrust his fathers life to a man whose brother he had
murdered, or at least caused to die?
The unmistakable sound of a heavy cannon being fired somewhere
in the distance reminded Toller that he had no time to
spare for speculation. He looked around for Gesalla. She was
standing alone, isolated from the surrounding activity, and
something about her posture told him she was still in extreme
pain. He ran to the gondola where Prince Chakkell was waiting
with his wife, daughter and two small sons. The pearl-coiffed
Princess Daseene and the children gazed up at Toller with
expressions of wary surmise, and even Chakkell seemed tentative
in his manner. They were all deeply afraid, Toller realised,
and one of the unknowns facing them was the nature of the
relationship to be dictated by the man into whose hands chance
had delivered their lives.
Well, Maraquine, Chakkell said, are we about to leave?
Toller nodded. We could all be safely away from here in a
few minutes, Princebut there is a difficulty.
A difficulty? What difficulty?
My brother died yesterday. Toller paused, taking advantage
of the fresh anxiety he had glimpsed in Chakkells eyes.
My obligation to his widow can only be discharged by bringing
her with me on this flight.
Im sorry, Maraquine, but that is out of the question,
Chakkell said. This ship is for my use only.
I know that, Prince, but you are a man who understands
family ties, and you can appreciate that it is impossible for me to
abandon my brothers widow. If she cant travel on this ship,
then I must decline the honour of being your pilot.
Youre talking about treason, Chakkell snapped, wiping
perspiration from his bald brown scalp. I . . . Leddravohr
would have you executed on the spot if you dared disobey his
orders.
I know that too, Prince, and it would be a great pity for all
concerned. Toller directed a thin smile at the watchful children.
If I werent here an inexperienced pilot would have to take you
and your family through that strange region between the worlds.
Im familiar with all the terrors and dangers of the middle
passage, you see, and could have prepared you for them.
The two boys continued to gaze up at him, but the girl hid her
face in her mothers skirts. Chakkell stared at her with pain-filled
eyes and shuffled his feet in an agony of frustration as, for the
first time in his life, he had to consider subordinating himself to
the will of an ordinary man. Toller smiled at him, falsely
sympathetic, and thought, If this is power, may I never need it
again.
Your brothers widow may travel in my ship, Chakkell
finally said. And I wont forget about this, Maraquine.
Ill always remember you with gratitude too, Toller said. As
he was climbing into the pilots station of the gondola he resigned
himself to having hardened the enmity that Chakkell already felt
for him, but he could feel no guilt or shame this time. He had
acted with deliberation and logic to achieve what was necessary,
unlike the Toller Maraquine of old, and had the further consolation
of knowing he was in tune with the realities of the situation.
LainMy brother is dead!had once said that Leddravohr and
his kind belonged to the past, and Chakkell had just vindicated
those words. In spite of all the catastrophic changes which had
overwhelmed their world, men like Leddravohr and Chakkell
acted as though Kolcorron would be created anew on Overland.
Only the King seemed to have intuited that everything would be
different.
Lying on his back against a partition, Toller signalled to the
inflation crew that he was ready to start burning. They stopped
cranking and hauled the fan aside, giving him a clear view of the
balloons interior. The envelope, partially filled with cool air,
was sagging and rolling between the upraised acceleration struts.
He fired a series of blasts into it, drowning out the sound of the
other burners which were being operated all along the line of
enclosures, and watched it distend and lift itself clear of the
ground. As it reached the vertical position the men holding the
crown lines closed in and fastened them to the gondolas load
frame, and others rotated the lightweight structure until it was
horizontal. The huge assemblage of balloon and gondola, now
lighter than air, began to strain gently at its central anchor as
though Overland was calling to it.
Toller leapt down from the gondola and nodded to Chakkell
and the waiting attendants as a sign that the passengers and
belongings could go aboard. He went to Gesalla and she made
no objection as he unslung the bundle from her shoulder.
Were ready to go, he said. Youll be able to lie down and
rest as soon as youre on board.
But thats a royal ship, she replied, unexpectedly hanging
back. Im supposed to find a place on one of the others.
Gesalla, please forget all about what was supposed to happen.
Many ships will fail to leave this place altogether, and its
likely that blood will be shed in the fight to get on to some of
those that do. You must come now.
Has the Prince given his consent?
We talked it over, and he wouldnt even consider departing
without you. Toller took Gesalla by the arm and walked with
her to the gondola. He went on board first and found that
Chakkell, Daseene and the children had taken their places in
one passenger compartment, tacitly assigning the other to him
and Gesalla. She winced with pain as he helped her climb over
the side, and as soon as he had shown her into the vacant
compartment she lay down on the wool-filled quilts stored
there.
He unbuckled his sword, placed it beside her and returned to
the pilots station. A heavy cannon again sounded in the distance
as he reactivated the burner. The ship was lightly loaded compared
to the one he had taken on the proving flight, and he
waited less than a minute before pulling the anchor link. There
was a gentle lurch and the walls of the enclosure began to slide
vertically past him. The climb continued well even when the
balloon had fully entered the open air, and in a few seconds
Toller had a full-circle view of the Quarter. The three other ships
of the royal flightdistinguished by white lateral stripes on their
gondolashad already cleared their enclosures and were slightly
above him. All other launches had been temporarily halted, but
he still felt the air to be uncomfortably crowded, and he kept a
careful watch on the companion ships until the beginnings of a
westerly breeze had brought about some dispersion.
In a mass flight there was always the risk of collision between
two ships ascending or descending at different speeds. As it was
impossible for a pilot to see anything directly above him, because
of the balloon, the rule was that the uppermost of a pair had the
responsibility of taking action to avoid the lower. The theory was
sound as far as it went, but Toller had misgivings about it because
almost the only option available in the climb phase was to climb
faster and thus increase the risk of overtaking a third ship. That
risk would have been minimal had the fleet been able to depart
according to plan, but now he was uneasily aware of being part of
a straggling vertical swarm.
As the ship gained height the scene on the ground below was
revealed in all its astonishing complexity.
Balloons, inflated or laid out flat on the grass, were the
dominant features in a matrix of paths and wagon tracks, supply
dumps, carts, animals and thousands of people milling about in
seemingly aimless activities. Toller could almost see them as
communal insects labouring to save bloated queens from some
imminent catastrophe. Off to the south, crowds formed a
variegated mass at the main entrance to the base, but the
foreshortened perspective made it impossible to tell if fighting
was already breaking out between newly sundered military
units.
Sketchy lines of people, presumably determined emigrants,
were converging on the launch area from several points on the
fields perimeter. And beyond them the fires were now spreading
more quickly in Ro-Atabri, aided by the freshening breeze,
stripping the city of its ptertha defences. In contrast to the
seething turmoil engendered by human beings and their appurtenances,
Arle Bay and the Gulf of Tronom formed a placid
backdrop of turquoise and blue. A two-dimensional Mount
Opelmer floated in the hazy distance, serene and undisturbed.
Toller, operating the burner by means of the extension lever,
stood at the side of the gondola and tried to assimilate the fact
that he was departing the scene for ever, but within him there
was only a tremulous void, a near-subliminal agitation which
told of suppressed emotions. Too much had happened in the
space of a single foredayMy brother is dead!and pain and
regret had been laid in store for him, to be drawn upon when the
first quiet hours came.
Chakkell was also looking outwards from his compartment,
arms around Daseene and his daughter, who appeared to be
aged about twelve. Toller, who had previously regarded him as a
man motivated by nothing but ambition, wondered if he should
revise his opinion. The ease with which he had been coerced in
the matter of Gesalla indicated an overriding concern for his
family.
Spectators could be seen at the rails of two other royal
shipsKing Prad and his personal attendants in one, the
withdrawn Prince Pouche and retainers in another. Only Leddravohr,
who seemed to have decided to travel unaccompanied,
was not visible. Zavotle, a lonely figure at the controls of
Leddravohrs ship, gave Toller a wave, then began drawing in
and fastening his acceleration struts. As his ship was the least
burdened of the four he could leave the burner for quite long
periods and still match the others rate of climb.
Toller, who had settled on a two-and-twenty rhythm, did not
have the same latitude. As a result of what had been learned
from the proving flight it had been decided that the migration
ships could safely be operated by unaided pilots, thus freeing
more lifting ability for passengers and cargo. During a pilots rest
periods he would entrust the burner or jet to a passenger, though
always continuing to monitor the rhythm.
Littlenight is almost here, Prince, Toller said, speaking
courteously to make amends for his earlier insubordination. I
want to secure our struts before then, so I must request you to
relieve me at the burner.
Very well. Chakkell seemed almost pleased at having something
useful to do as he took over the extension lever. His
dark-haired boys, still shooting timid glances at Toller, came to
his side and listened attentively while he explained the workings
of the machinery to them. By the time Toller had hauled in and
lashed the struts to the corners of the gondola, Chakkell had
taught the boys to count the burner rhythm by making a chanting
game of it.
Seeing that all three were engrossed for the time being, Toller
went into the compartment where Gesalla was lying. Her eyes
were alert and the strained expression had left her face. She
extended a hand and offered him a rolled-up bandage which
must have come from her bundle of possessions.
He knelt beside her on the bed of soft quilts, reviling himself
for the flicker of sexual excitement the action brought, and took
the bandage. How are you? he said quietly.
I dont think any of my ribs are actually broken, but theyll
have to be bound if Im to do my share of the work. Help me up.
With Tollers assistance she gingerly raised herself to a kneeling
position, half-turned away from him and pulled up her grey shirt
to expose a massive bruise at one side of her lower ribs. What
do you think?
You should be bandaged, he said, unsure of what was
expected of him.
Well, what are you waiting for?
Nothing. He passed the bandage around her and began
to lap it tight, but his actions were made awkward by the
constrictions of her waistcoat and gathered shirt. Time after
time, in spite of all his efforts to the contrary, his knuckles
brushed against her breasts and the sensation darted through
him like ambersparks, adding to his clumsiness.
Gesalla gave an audible sigh. Youre useless, Toller. Wait!
She pulled open her shirt and removed both it and the waistcoat
in a single movement, and now the slimness of her was naked
from the waist up. Try it now.
A vision of Lains yellow-hooded body turned him into a
senseless machine. He completed the bandage with the efficiency
and briskness of a battlefield surgeon, and allowed his
hands to fall to his sides. Gesalla remained as she was for a few
protracted seconds, her gaze warm and solemn, before she
picked up the shirt and put it on.
Thank you, she said, then put out her hand and lightly
touched him on the lips.
There was a blaze of rainbow colours and suddenly the ship
was in darkness. In the other passenger compartment Daseene
or her daughter whimpered with alarm. Toller stood up and
looked over the side. The fringed, curved shadow of Overland
was speeding towards the eastern horizon, and almost directly
below the ship Ro-Atabri was a tangle of orange-burning threads
caught in a spreading pool of pitch.
Toller scanned the sky all around and saw that one globe was
only thirty yards away to the north. He went immediately to one
of the two rail-mounted cannon on that side, took aim and
released the pin which shattered the bilobed glass container in
the guns breech. There was a brief delay while the charges of
pikon and halvell mixed, reacted and exploded. The projectile
blurred along its trajectory, followed by a glitter of glass
fragments, spreading its radial arms as it flew. It curved down
through the ptertha and annihilated it, releasing a fast-fading
smudge of purple dust.
That was a good shot, Chakkell said from behind Toller.
Would you say were safe from the poison at this range?
Toller nodded. The ship goes with any wind there is, so the
dust cant reach us. The ptertha are not much of a threat, really,
but I destroyed that one because there can be some air turbulence
at the edge of littlenight. I didnt want to risk the globe
picking up a stray eddy and moving in on us.
Chakkells swarthy face bore an expression of concern as he
stared at the remaining globes. How did they get so close?
Pure chance, it seems. If they are spread out over an area of
sky and a ship happens to rise up through them, they match its
rate of climb. The same thing happened on the. . . . Toller
broke off on hearing two more cannon shots, some distance
away, followed by faint screaming which seemed to come from
below.
He leaned over the gondola wall and looked straight down.
The convex immensity of Land provided an intricate blue-green
background for a seemingly endless series of balloons, the
nearest of which were only a few hundred yards away and
looking very large. Many others were ranged out below them in
irregular steps and random groupings, progressively shrinking in
apparent size until they reached near-invisibility.
Ptertha could be seen mingling with the uppermost ships and,
as Toller watched, another cannon fired and picked off a globe.
The projectile quickly lost momentum and faded from sight in a
dizzy plunge, losing itself in the cloud patterns far below. The
screaming continued, regular as breathing, for some time before
gradually fading away.
Toller moved back from the rail, wondering if the screams had
been inspired by groundless panic, or if someone had actually
seen one of the globes hovering close to a gondola wallblind,
malignant and utterly invinciblejust before it darted in for the
kill. He was experiencing relief tinged with guilt over having
been spared such a fate when a new thought occurred to him.
The ptertha had no need to wait for daylight before closing in.
There was no guarantee that one or more of the globes had not
driven itself against his own ship during the spell of darknessand
if that were the case neither he, Gesalla nor any of his
passengers would live to set foot on Overland.
As he tried to come to terms with the notion he slipped a hand
into his pocket, located the curious keepsake given to him by his
father, and allowed his thumb to begin circling on the ice-smooth
surface.
Chapter 19
The period Toller still tended to think of as littlenightwhen
Overland was screening out the sunhad grown to be seven
hours in length; whereas nightwhen they were in the shadow
of the home worldnow lasted less than half that time. He was
sitting alone at the pilots station, waiting for daybreak and
trying to foresee his peoples future on the new world. It seemed
to him that even native Kolcorronians, who had always been
accustomed to living directly below the fixed sphere of Overland,
might feel oppressed by the sight of a larger planet suspended
directly above them and depriving them of a proportionately
greater part of their day. Assuming Overland to be
uninhabited, the migrants could be disposed towards building
their new nation on the far side of the planet, in latitudes
corresponding to those of Chamteth on Land. Perhaps a time
would come when all memory of their origins had faded and. . . .
Tollers thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of
Chakkells seven-year-old son, Setwan, at the entrance to their
compartment. The boy came to his side and leaned his head on
Tollers shoulder.
I cant sleep, Uncle Toller, he whispered. May I stay here
with you?
Toller lifted the boy on to his knee, smiling to himself as he
visualised Daseenes reaction if she heard one of her children
address him as uncle.
Toller had a certain sympathy for Daseene, knowing that the
traumas of recent days had been greater for her than for any of
the others on board. The childrenCorba, Oldo and Setwanhad
not had enough years in the privileged dreamland of the
Five Palaces to condition them irrevocably, and they had a
natural sense of curiosity and adventure on their side. Chakkells
responsibilities and ambitions had always kept him fully in touch
with the everyday realities of life in Kolcorron, and he had
sufficient strength and resourcefulness to let him anticipate a key
role in the founding of a new nation on Overland. Indeed Toller
had been quite impressed by the way in which the prince, after
the initial period of adjustment, had chosen to involve himself
with the operation of the ship without shirking any task.
Chakkell had been particularly scrupulous as regards taking
long spells at the microjets which gave the ship some control over
its lateral position. It was expected and accepted that all other
ships of the fleet would be dispersed by air currents over quite a
large area of Overland after a journey of five-thousand miles,
but Leddravohr had decreed that the royal flight should be able
to land in a tight group.
Different methods of tethering the four ships had been dismissed
as impracticable, and in the end they had been fitted with
miniature horizontal jets delivering only a small fraction of the
thrust produced by the attitude control jets. When fired continuously
for a long time they added a very slight lateral component
to a ships vertical motion, without causing it to rotate
around its centre of gravity, and assiduous use of them had kept
the four royal ships in close formation throughout the flight.
The proximity of the others had furnished Toller with one of
the most memorable spectacles of his life, when the group had
passed the midpoint and it came time to turn the ships over.
Although he had been through the experience before, he found
something awesome and ineffably beautiful in the sight of the
sister planets majestically drifting in opposite directions,
Overland gliding out from the occultation of the balloon and down the
sky while Land, at the other end of an invisible beam, climbed
above the gondola wall.
And with the transposition half complete a new dimension of
wonder was added. A receding, dwindling series of ships seemed
to reach all the way to each planet, visible as disks which
progressively shrank to glowing points. Several of those going in
the direction of Overland had delayed turning over and could be
seen from underneath with their gondolas, attachments and jet
pipes scribed in ever finer detail on the shrinking circles.
As if that were not enough to brim the eye and mind, there was
alsoagainst deep blue infinities seeded with swirls and braids
and points of frozen brilliancethe sight of the three companion
ships carrying out their own inversion manoeuvres. The structures,
which were so fragile that they could be crumpled by a
boisterous breeze, remained magically immune to distortion as
they stood the universe on its head, proclaiming that this truly
was the zone of strangeness. Their pilots, visible as enigmatic
mounds of swaddling, surely had to be alien supermen gifted
with knowledge and skills inaccessible to ordinary men.
Not all of the scenes witnessed by Toller had possessed such
grandeur, but they were imprinted on his memory for different
reasons. There was Gesallas face in its varied moods and
aspectsdubiously triumphant as she overcame the waywardness
of the galley fire, wanly introspective after hours of falling
through the region of zero or negligible gravity . . . the
bursting of all the accompanying ptertha within minutes of each
other, after a day of climbing . . . the childrens looks of
astonishment and delight as their breath became visible in the
surrounding chill . . . the games they played during the brief
period when they could suspend beads and trinkets in the air to
sketch simplified faces and build three-dimensional designs. . . .
And there had been the other scenes, exterior to the ship,
which told of distant tragedies and the kind of death which
heretofore had belonged to the realms of purest nightmare.
The royal flight had taken off at quite an early stage in the
evacuation of the Quarter, and Toller knew that by the time they
were a day and more past the midpoint they had above them an
attenuated linear cloud of ships perhaps a hundred miles high.
Had they not already been screened from view by the sedate
vastness of his own balloon most of them would have been
rendered invisible by sheer distance, but he had received
disturbing proof of their existence. It took the form of a sparse,
spasmodic and dreadful rain. A rain whose droplets were solid
and which varied in size, from entire skyships to human bodies.
On three separate occasions he had seen crumpled ships
plunge down past him, the gondolas wrapped in the slow-flapping
ruins of their balloons, bound on the day-long fall to
Overland. It was his guess that all vestiges of order had
disappeared during the latter hours of the escape from Ro-Atabri,
and that in the chaos some ships had been taken up by inexperienced
fliers or had even been commandeered by rebels with no
aviation knowledge at all. It looked as though some of them had
driven far past the midpoint without turning over, their velocity
being augmented by the growing attraction of Overland until the
stresses in the flimsy envelopes had torn them apart.
Once he had seen a gondola plummeting down without its
balloon, maintaining its proper attitude because of the trailing
lines and acceleration struts, and a dozen soldiers had been
visible at its rails, mutely surveying the procession of still-airworthy
ships which was to be their last tenuous link with
humanity and with life.
But for the most part the falling objects had been smallercooking
utensils, ornate boxes, sacks of provisions, human
and animal formsevidence of catastrophic accidents tens of
miles higher in the wavering stack of ships.
Not very far past the midpoint, while Overlands pull was still
weak and the fall speeds were low, a young man had dropped
past the ships, so close that Toller could easily discern his
features. Perhaps out of bravado, or a desperate craving for a
last communion with another human being, the young man had
called out to Toller, quite cheerfully, and had waved a hand.
Toller had not responded in a way, feeling that to do so would
have been to take part in some unspeakable parody of a jest, and
had remained petrified at the rail, appalled and yet unable to
avert his gaze from the doomed man for the many minutes that it
took him to dwindle out of sight.
Hours later, when darkness was all about him and he was
trying to sleep, Toller had kept thinking of the falling manwho
by then might have been a thousand miles ahead of the migration
fleetand wondering how he was preparing himself for the final
impact. . . .
The missing skyship was the one in which the King was flying.
There was nothing very unusual about thatKedalse was an
ultra-cautious pilot who liked to slow his descent at night,
preferring to keep the other ships a little below him where he
could easily monitor their positionsbut this time he was not
even visible in the upper sweeps of the sky.
Toller swiftly lifted Setwan and had just placed him in the
passenger compartment with his family when he heard frantic
shouts from Zavotle and Amber. He glanced towards them and
saw that they were pointing at something above his ship, and in
the same moment a gust of hot miglign gas came belching down
out of the balloon mouth, bringing a startled whimper from one
of the children. Toller looked up into the glowing dome of the
balloon and his heart quaked as he saw the square silhouette of a
gondola impressed upon it, distorting the spider-web geometries
of the load tapes.
The Kings ship was directly above him and had come down
hard on his own balloon.
Toller could see the circular imprint of the other ships jet
nozzle digging into the crown of the envelope, endangering the
integrity of the rip panel. There was a chorus of creaks from the
rigging and from the acceleration struts, and a rippling distortion
of the balloon fabric expelled more choking gas down into the
gondola.
Kedalse, he shouted, not knowing if his voice would
be heard in the upper gondola. Lift your ship! Lift your
ship!
The faint voices of Zavotle and Amber joined with his own,
and a sunwriter began to flash from one of their gondolas, but
there was no response from above. The Kings ship continued to
bear down on the overloaded balloon, threatening to burst or
collapse it.
Toller glanced helplessly at Gesalla and Chakkell, who had
risen to their feet and were staring at him in open-mouthed
dread. The best explanation he could think of for the crisis was
that the Kings pilot had been overcome by illness and was
unconscious or dead at the controls. If that were the case
somebody else in the upper gondola might begin firing the
burner and separate the two craft, but it would need to be done
very soon. And there was also the possibilityTollers mouth
went dry at the thoughtthat the burner had failed in some way
and could not be fired.
He strove to force his brain into action as the deck swayed
beneath his feet and the fabric of the balloon emitted sounds like
the cracking of a whip. The pair of ships had already begun to lose
height too quickly, as was evidenced by the fact that the other
two visible ships had acquired a relative upward movement.
Leddravohr had appeared at the rail of his own gondola, for
the first time since the take-off, and behind him Zavotle was still
emitting futile blinks of brilliance from his sunwriter.
It was impossible for Toller to get away from the Kings ship by
increasing his own rate of descent. His craft had already lost gas
and was coming perilously near the condition in which the air
pressures of an excessive fall-speed could collapse the balloon,
initiating a thousand-mile drop to the surface of Overland.
In fact, there was an urgent requirement to fire large quantities
of hot gas into the balloonbut doing so, with the extra
load imposed from above, was to risk increasing the internal
pressure so much that the envelope would simply tear itself
apart.
Toller locked eyes with Gesalla, and the imperative was born
in his mind: I choose to live!
He twisted his way into the seat at the pilots station and fired
the burner in a long thunderous blast, engorging the hungry
balloon with hot gas, and a few seconds later he pushed the lever
of an attitude-control jet. The jets exhaust was lost in the
engulfing roar of the burner, but its effect was not diminished.
The other two members of the royal flight drifted downwards
and out of sight as Tollers ship rotated around its centre of
gravity. There came a series of low-pitched inhuman groans and
shudders as the Kings ship slid down the side of Tollers balloon
and came into view above him. One of its acceleration struts tore
free of its lower attachment point and began wandering and
circling in the air like a duellists sword.
As Toller watched, frozen into his own continuum, the sluggish
movements so characteristic of skyships abruptly accelerated.
The other gondola drew level with him and the free end of
the strut came blindly stabbing down into the galley compartment
of Tollers ship, imparting a dangerous tilt to the universe.
The shock of the impact raced back along the strut and its upper
end gouged into the other balloon.
A seam ripped apartand the balloon died.
It collapsed inwards, writhing in a perfect simulation of agony,
and now the Kings ship was falling unchecked. The leverage it
exerted through the strut turned Tollers gondola on its side and
Overland flashed into view, eager and expectant. Gesalla
screamed as she fell against the lowermost wall and the
looking-glass she had been holding spun out into the blue emptiness.
Toller threw himself into the galley, risking going over the side in
the process, gripped the end of the strut andsummoning all the
power of his warriors physiqueraised it and cast it free.
As the gondola righted itself he clung to the rail and watched
the other ship begin its lethal plunge. At the height of a thousand
miles gravity was at less than half strength and the tempo of
events had again lapsed into dreamlike slow motion. He saw
King Prad swim to the side of the falling gondola. The King, his
blind eye shining like a star, raised one hand and pointed at
Toller, then he was hidden from view by the swirls of his ships
ruined balloon. Gaining speed as it settled into the fall, still
seeking a balance between gravitation and air resistance, the
ship dwindled to become a fluttering speck at the limits of vision,
and finally was lost in the fractal patterns of Overland.
Becoming aware of a fierce psychic pressure, Toller raised his
head and looked at the two accompanying ships. Leddravohr
was gazing at him from the nearer, and as their eyes met he
extended both arms towards Toller, like a man calling a loved
one to his embrace. He remained like that, mutely imploring,
and even when Toller had returned to the burner he could almost
feel the princes hatred as an invisible blade knifing through his
soul. A grey-faced Chakkell was gazing at him from the entrance
to the passenger compartment, inside which Daseene and Corba
were quietly sobbing.
This is a bad day, Chakkell said in a halting voice. The
King is dead.
Not yet, Toller thought. He still has quite a few hours to go.
Aloud he said, You saw what happened. Were lucky to be
here. I had no choice.
Leddravohr wont see it like that.
No, Toller said pensively. Leddravohr wont see it like
that.
Toller, she whispered, what are you thinking about?
He considered lying to her, then decided he had had enough of
barriers. Im thinking about Leddravohr. It all has to be settled
between us.
Perhaps he will have thought the thing through by the time
we reach Overland and will be of a different mind. I mean, it
wasnt even as if sacrificing us would have saved the King.
Leddravohr is bound to admit that you had no choice.
I may have felt I had no choice, but Leddravohr will say I
acted too quickly in rolling us out from under his fathers ship.
Perhaps I would say the same thing if the positions were reversed.
If I had waited a little longer Kedalse or somebody else
might have got their burner going.
You mustnt think that way, Gesalla said softly. You did
what had to be done.
And Leddravohr is going to do what has to be done.
You can overcome him, cant you?
Perhapsbut I fear that he will have already given orders for
me to be executed, Toller said. I cant fight a regiment.
I see. Gesalla raised herself on one elbow and looked down
at him, and in the dimness her face was impossibly beautiful.
Do you love me, Toller?
He felt he had reached the end of a lifelong journey. Yes.
Im glad. She sat up straighter and began to remove her
clothing. Because I want a child from you.
He caught her wrist, smiling numbly in his disbelief. What do
you think youre doing? Chakkell is on the burner just on the
other side of this partition.
He cant see us.
But this isnt the way to. . . .
I dont care about any of that, Gesalla said, pressing her
breast against the hand that was holding her wrist. I have
chosen you to father my child, and there may be very little time
for us.
It wont work, you know. Toller relaxed back on the
quilts. Its physically impossible for me to make love in these
conditions.
Thats what you think, Gesalla said as she moved astride of
him and brought her mouth down on his, moulding his cheeks
with both her hands to coax him into an ardent response.
Chapter 20
Toller had been staring down at the outward-seeping landscape
for some time before realising why that particular adjective
kept coming to mind. It was not the total absence of cities
and roadsfirst proof that the continent was uninhabitedbut
the uniform coloration of the grasslands.
Throughout his life every aerial view he had seen had been
modified in some way by the six-harvest system which was
universal on Land. The edible grasses and all other cultivated
vegetation had been arranged in parallel strips in which the
colours ranged from brown through several shades of green to
harvest yellow, but here the plains were simply. . . green.
The sunlit expanses of the single colour shimmered in his
eyes.
Our farmers will have to start the seed-sorting all over again, he
thought. And the mountains and seas and rivers all have to be
given names. It really is a new beginning on a new world. And I
dont think Im going to be part of it. . . .
Reminded of his personal problems, he turned his attention to
the artificial elements of the scene. The two other ships of the
royal flight were slightly below him. Pouches was the more
distant, most of its passengers visible at the rail as they journeyed
ahead in their imaginations to the unknown world.
Ilven Zavotle was the only person to be seen on Leddravohrs
ship, sitting tiredly at the controls. Leddravohr himself must
have been lying down in a passenger compartment, as he had doneexcept
during the traumatic episode two days beforethroughout
the voyage. Toller had noted the princes behaviour earlier and
wondered if he could be phobic about the
boundless emptiness surrounding the migration fleet. If that
were the case, it would have been better for Toller if their
inevitable duel could have been fought aboard one of the
goridolas.
In the two miles of airspace below him he could see twelve
other balloons forming an irregular line which increasingly flared
off to the west, evidence of a moderate breeze in the lowest
levels of the atmosphere. The general area into which they were
drifting was sprinkled with the elongated shapes of collapsed
balloons, which would later be used to build a temporary
township of tents. As he had expected, Tollers binoculars
showed that most of the grounded ships had military markings.
Even in the turmoil of the escape from Ro-Atabri, Leddravohr
had had the foresight to provide himself with a power base which
would be effective from the instant he set foot on Overland.
Analysing the situation, Toller could see no prospect at all of
his living for more than a matter of minutes if he put his ship
down close to Leddravohrs. Even if he were to defeat Leddravohr
in single combat, he wouldas the man charged with the
death of the Kingbe taken by the army. His single and
desperately slim chance of survival, for a term to be measured in
days at most, lay in hanging back during the touchdown and
going aloft again as soon as Leddravohrs ship was committed to
a landing. There were forested hills perhaps twenty miles west of
the landing site, and if he could reach them with his balloon he
might be able to avoid capture until the forces of the infant
nations were properly organised in the cause of his destruction.
The weakest point of the plan was that it hinged on factors
outside his own control, all of them concerned with the mind and
character of Leddravohrs pilot.
He had no doubt at all that Zavotle would make the correct
deductions when he saw Tollers ship being tardy during the
landing, but would he be sympathetic with Tollers aims? And
even if he were inclined to be loyal to a fellow skyman, would he
take the personal risk of doing what Toller expected of him? He
would have to be quick to pull the rip panel and collapse his
balloonjust as it was becoming apparent to Leddravohr that
his enemy was slipping out of his graspand there was no
predicting how the prince might react in his anger. He had struck
other men down for lesser offences.
Toller stared across the field of brightness at the solitary figure
of Zavotle, knowing that his gaze was being returned, then he
put his back against the gondola wall and eyed Chakkell, who
was operating the burner at the one-and-twenty rhythm of the
descent.
Prince, there is a breeze at ground level and I fear the ship
may be dragged, he said, making his opening move. You and
the princess and your children should be ready to go over the side
even before we touch the ground. It might sound dangerous, but
theres a good ledge all around the gondola for standing on, and
our ground speed will be little more than a walking pace.
Jumping off before touchdown is preferable to being in the
gondola if it overturns.
Im touched by your solicitude, Chakkell said, giving Toller
a tilt-headed look of surmise.
Wondering if he had blundered so early, Toller approached
the pilots station. Well be landing very soon, Prince. You
must be prepared.
Chakkell nodded, vacated the seat and, unexpectedly, said, I
still remember the first time I saw you, in the company of Glo. I
never thought it would come to this.
Lord Glo had vision, Toller replied. He should be here.
I suppose so. Chakkell gave him another searching look and
went into the compartment where Daseene and the children
were making ready for the landing.
Toller sat down and took control of the burner, noting as he
did so that the pointer on the altitude gauge had fully returned to
the bottom mark. As Overland was smaller than Land he would
have expected its surface gravity to be less, but Lain had said
otherwise. Overland has a higher density, and therefore everything
there will weigh about the same as on Land. Toller shook his
head, half smiling in belated tribute to his brother. How had
Lain known what to expect? Mathematics was one aspect of his
brothers life which would forever remain a closed book to him,
as looked like being the case with. . . .
He glanced at Gesalla, who for an hour had been motionless at
the outer wall of their compartment, her attention fully absorbed
by the expanding vistas of the new world below. Her bundle of
possessions was already slung on her shoulder, giving the
impression that she was impatient to set foot on Overland and go
about the business of carving out whatever future she had
visualised for herself and the child which, possibly, he had
seeded into her. The emotions aroused in him by the sight of her
slim, straight and uncompromising form were the most complex
he had ever known.
On the night she had come to him he had been quite certain he
would be unable to fulfil the male role because of his tiredness,
his guilt and the unnerving presence of Chakkell, who had been
operating the burner only a few feet away. But Gesalla had
known better. She had worked on him with fervour, skill and
imagination, plying him with her mouth and gracile body until
nothing else existed for him but the need to pulse his semen into
her. She had remained on top of him until the climactic moment
was near, then had insensibly engineered a change of position
and had held it, with upthrust pelvis and legs locked around him,
for minutes afterwards. Only later, when they had been talking,
had he realised that she had been maximising the chances of
conception.
And now, as well as loving her, he hated her for some of the
things she had said to him during the remainder of that night
while the meteors flickered in the dimness all around. There had
been no direct statements, but there was revealed to him a
Gesalla who, while displaying chilly anger over a fine point of
etiquette, was at the same time prepared to defy any convention
for the sake of a future child. In the milieu of the old Kolcorron it
had seemed to her that the qualities offered by Lain Maraquine
would be the most advantageous for her offspring, and so she
had married him. She had loved Lain, but the thing which chafed
Tollers sensibilities was that she had loved Lain for a reason.
And now that she was being projected into the vastly different
frontier environment of Overland, it had been her considered
judgment that attributes available through Toller Maraquines
seed were to be preferred, and so she had coupled with him.
In his confusion and pain, Toller was unable to identify the
principal source of his resentment. Was it self-disgust at having
been so easily seduced by his brothers widow? Was it lacerated
pride over having his finest feelings made part of an exercise in
eugenics? Or was he furious with Gesalla for not fitting in with
his preconceptions, for not being what he wanted her to be? How
was it possible for a woman to be a prude and a wanton at the
same time, to be generous and selfish, hard and soft, accessible
and remote, his and not his?
The questions were endless, Toller realised, and to dwell on
them at this stage would be futile and dangerous. The only
preoccupations he could afford were with staying alive.
He fitted the extension tube to the burner lever and moved to
the side of the gondola to give himself maximum visibility for the
descent. As the horizon began to rise level with him he gradually
increased his burn ratio, allowing Zavotles ship to move farther
ahead. It was important to achieve the greatest vertical
separation that was possible without arousing the suspicions of
Leddravohr and Chakkell. He watched as the dozen ships still
airborne ahead of the royal flight touched down one by one, the
precise moment of each contact being signalled by the shocked
contortion of the balloon, followed by the appearance of a
triangular rent in the crown and the wilting collapse of the entire
envelope.
The entire area was dotted with ships which had landed
previously, and already some sort of order was beginning to be
imposed on the scene. Supplies were being brought together and
piled, and teams of men were running to each new ship as it
touched down.
The sense of awe Toller had expected to accompany such a
sight was missing, displaced by the urgency of his situation. He
trained his binoculars on Zavotles ship as it neared the ground
and risked firing a long blast of miglign into his own balloon. On
that instant, as though his ears had been attuned to the telltale
sound, Leddravohr materialised at the gondola rail. His
shadowed eyes were intent on Tollers ship, and even at that
distance they could be seen flaring with coronas of white as he
realised what was happening.
He turned to say something to his pilot, but Zavotlewithout
waiting for ground contactpulled his rip line. The balloon
above him went into the heaving convulsions of its death throes.
The gondola skidded into the grass and was lost from view as the
dark brown shroud of the envelope fluttered down around it.
Groups of soldiersamong them one officer mounted on a
bluehornran to the ship and that of Pouche, which was making
a more leisurely touchdown a furlong farther away.
Toller lowered his binoculars and faced Chakkell. Prince, for
reasons which must be obvious to you, I am not going to land my
ship at this time. I have no desire to take you or any other disinterested
parties he paused to glance at Gesallainto
an alien wilderness with me, therefore Im going to go within
grass level of the surface. At that point it will be very easy for you
and your family to part company with the ship, but you must act
quickly and with resolution. Is that understood?
No! Chakkell left the passenger compartment and took a
step towards Toller. You will land the ship in full accordance
with normal procedure. That is my command, Maraquine. I
have no intention of subjecting myself or my family to any
unnecessary hazards.
Hazards! Toller drew his lips into a smile. Prince, we are
talking about a drop of a few inches. Compare that to the
thousand-mile tumble they almost embarked upon two days
ago.
Your meaning isnt lost on me. Chakkell hesitated and
glanced at his wife. But still I must insist on a landing.
And I insist otherwise, Toller said, hardening his voice. The
ship was still about thirty feet above the ground and with each
passing moment the breeze bore it farther away from the spot
where Leddravohr had come down, but the period of grace had
to come to an end soon. Even as Toller was trying to guess how
much time he had in hand he saw Leddravohr emerge from
under the collapsed balloon. Simultaneously, Gesalla climbed
over the gondola wall and positioned herself on the outer ledge,
ready to jump free. Her eyes met Tollers only briefly, and there
was no communication. He allowed the descent to continue until
he could discern individual blades of grass.
Prince, you must decide quickly, he said. If you dont
leave the ship soon, we all go aloft together.
Not necessarily. Chakkell leaned closer to the pilots station
and snatched the red line which was connected to the balloons
rip panel. I think this restores my authority, he said, and
jabbed a pointing finger as he saw Toller instinctively tighten his
grip on the extension lever. If you try to ascend Ill vent the
balloon.
That would be dangerous at this height.
Not if I only do it partially, Chakkell replied, displaying
knowledge he had acquired while controlling production of the
migration fleet. I can bring the ship down quite gently.
Toller looked beyond him and in the distance saw Leddravohr
in the act of commandeering the bluehorn of the officer who had
rode to meet his ship. Any landing would be gentle, he said,
compared to the one your children would have made after
falling a thousand miles.
Chakkell shook his head. Repetition doesnt strengthen your
case, Maraquineit only brings to mind the fact that you were
also saving your own skin. Leddravohr is now King, and my first
duty is to him.
There was a whispering sound from underfoot as the jet
exhaust funnel brushed the tips of tall grass. Half-a-mile away to
the east, Leddravohr was astride the bluehorn and was galloping
towards the ship, followed by groups of soldiers on foot.
And my first loyalty is towards my children, the Princess
Daseene announced unexpectedly, her head appearing above
the partition of the passenger compartment. Ive had enough of
thisand of you, Chakkell.
With surprising agility and lack of concern for her dignity she
swarmed over the gondola wall and helped Corba to follow.
Unbidden, Gesalla came swiftly around the gondola on the
outside and aided in the lifting of the two boys on to the ledge.
Daseene, still wearing the incongruous pearl coif like a
generals insignia, fixed her husband with an imperious stare.
You are indebted to that man for my life, she said angrily. If
you refuse to honour the debt it can mean but one thing.
But. . . . Chakkell clapped his brow in perplexity, then
pointed at Leddravohr, who was rapidly gaining on the
slow-drifting ship. What will I say to him!
Toller reached down into the compartment he had shared with
Gesalla and retrieved his sword. You could say I threatened
you with this.
Are you threatening me with it?
The sound of whipping grass became louder, and the gondola
bucked slightly as the jet exhaust made a fleeting contact with the
ground. Toller glanced at Leddravohrnow only two-hundred
yards away and flailing the bluehorn into a wilder gallopthen
shouted at Chakkell.
For your own goodleave the ship now!
Something else to remember you for, Chakkell mumbled as
he let go of the rip line. He went to the side, rolled himself over
on to the ledge and immediately dropped away to the ground.
Daseene and the children followed him at once, one of the boys
whooping with pleasurable excitement, leaving only Gesalla
holding on to the rail.
Goodbye, Toller said.
Goodbye, Toller. She continued to stand at the rail, staring
at him in what looked like surprise. Leddravohr was now little
more than a hundred yards away and the sound of his bluehorns
hoofbeats was growing louder by the second.
What are you waiting for? Toller heard his own voice
cracking with urgency. Get off the ship!
NoIm going with you. In the time it took her to utter the
words Gesalla had climbed back over the rail and dropped to the
gondola floor.
What are you doing? Every nerve in Tollers body was
screaming for him to fire the burner and try to lift the ship out of
Leddravohrs reach, but his arm muscles and hands were locked.
Have you gone crazy?
I think so, Gesalla said strickenly. Its idioticbut Im
going with you.
Youre mine, Maraquine, Leddravohr called out in a
strange fervent chant as he drew his sword. Come to me,
Maraquine.
Almost mesmerised, Toller was tightening his grip on his own
sword when Gesalla threw herself past him and dropped her
full weight on to the extension lever. The burner roared at
once, blasting gas into the waiting balloon. Toller silenced it by
pulling the lever up, then he pushed Gesalla back against a
partition.
Thank you, but this is pointless, he said. Leddravohr has
to be faced at some stage, and this seems to be the ordained
time.
He kissed Gesalla lightly on the forehead, turned back to the
rail and locked eyes with Leddravohr, who was on a level with
him and now only a dozen yards away. Leddravohr, apparently
sensing his change of heart, struck his smile into existence.
Toller felt the first stirrings of a shameful excitement, a yearning
to have everything settled with Leddravohr once and for all,
regardless of the outcome, to know for certain if. . . .
His sequence of thought was broken as he saw an abrupt
change of expression on Leddravohrs face. There was sudden
alarm there, and the prince was no longer looking directly at
him. Toller swung round and saw that Gesalla was holding the
butt of one of the ships ptertha cannon. She had already driven
home the firing pin and was aiming the weapon at Leddravohr.
Before Toller could react the cannon fired. The projectile was a
central blur in a spray of glass fragments, spreading its arms as it
flew.
Leddravohr twisted away from it successfully, pulling his
mount off course, but shards of glass pocked his face with
crimson. He gasped with shock and hauled the galloping
bluehorn back into line, rapidly making up lost ground.
Staring frozenly at Leddravohr, knowing the rules of their
private war had been changed, Toller fired the burner. The
skyship had been made lighter by the departure of Chakkell
and his family and had been disposed to rise ever since, but
the inertia of the tons of gas inside the balloon made it nightmarishly
slow to respond. Toller kept the burner roaring and the
gondola began to lift clear of the grass, Leddravohr was now
almost within reach and was raising himself in the stirrups. His
eyes glared insanely at Toller from a mask of blood.
Is he mad enough to try leaping on to the gondola? Toller
wondered. Does he want to meet the point of my sword?
In the next pounding second Toller became aware that Gesalla
had darted around behind him and was at the other cannon on
the windward side. Leddravohr saw her, drew back his arm and
hurled his sword.
Toller gave a warning cry, but the sword had not been aimed at
a human target. It arced high above him and sank to the hilt in a
lower panel of the balloon. The fabric split and the sword fell
clear, spinning down into the grass. Leddravohr reined his
bluehorn to a halt, jumped down and retrieved the black blade.
He remounted immediately and spurred the bluehorn forward,
but he was no longer overtaking the ship, being content to pace it
at a distance. Gesalla fired the second cannon, but the projectile
plunged harmlessly into the grass well clear of Leddravohr, who
responded with a courtly wave of his arm.
Still firing the burner, Toller looked up and saw that the rent in
the varnished linen of the envelope had run the full length of the
panel. The edges of it were pursed, invisibly spewing gas, but
the ship had finally gained some upward momentum and was
continuing its sluggish climb.
Toller was startled by the sound of hoarse shouting from close
by. He spun round and discovered that, while all his attention
had been concentrated on Leddravohr, the ship had been drifting
directly towards a scattered band of soldiers. The gondola
sailed over them with only a few feet to spare and they began to
run along behind and below it, leaping in their efforts to grab
hold of the ledge.
Their faces were anxious rather than hostile, and it came to
Toller that they had only the vaguest idea of what had been
happening. Praying he would not have to take action against any
of them, he kept on blasting gas into the balloon and was
rewarded by an agonisingly slow but steady gain in height.
Can the ship fly? Gesalla came to his side, straining to
make herself heard above the roar of the burner. Are we
safe?
The ship can flyafter a fashion, Toller said, choosing to
ignore her second question. Why did you do it, Gesalla?
Surely you know.
No.
Love came back to me. She gave him a peaceful smile.
After that I had no choice
The fulfilment Toller should have felt was lost in black
territories of fear. But you attacked Leddravohr! And he has no
mercy, even for women.
I dont need reminding. Gesalla looked back at the slow-moving,
attendant figure of Leddravohr, and for a moment scorn
and hatred robbed her of beauty. You were right, Toller
we must not simply surrender to the butchers. Leddravohr
destroyed the life in me once, and Lain and I compounded the
crime by ceasing to love each other, ceasing to love ourselves.
We gave too much.
Yes, but. . . . Toller took a deep breath as he strove to
accord Gesalla the rights he had always claimed for himself.
But what?
We have to lighten the ship, he said, passing the burner
control lever to her. He went into the compartment vacated by
Chakkell and began hurling trunks and boxes over the side.
The pursuing soldiers whooped and cheered until Leddravohr
rode in among them, and his gestures showed that he was giving
orders for the containers to be carried back to the main landing
site. Within a minute the soldiers had turned back with their
burdens, leaving Leddravohr to follow the ship alone. The wind
speed was about six miles an hour and as a result the bluehorn
was able to keep pace in a leisurely trot. Leddravohr was riding
slightly beyond the cannons effective reach, slouched in the
saddle, expending little energy and waiting for the situation to
turn to his advantage.
Toller checked the pikon and halvell magazines and found he
had sufficient crystals for at least a day of continuous burningthe
ships of the royal flight having been more generously
provided than the othersbut his principal concern was with the
ships lack of performance. The rip in the balloon was showing
no sign of spreading past the upper and lower panel seams, but
the amount of gas spilling through it was almost enough to
deprive the ship of its buoyancy.
In spite of the continuous firing of the burner the gondola had
gained no more than twenty feet, and Toller knew that the
slightest adverse change in conditions would force a descent. A
sudden gust of wind, for example, could flatten one side of the
envelope and expel precious gas, delivering Gesalla and him into
the hands of the patiently stalking enemy. Alone he would have
been more than prepared to contend with Leddravohr, but now
Gesallas life also depended on the outcome. . . .
He went to the rail and gripped it with both hands, staring
back at Leddravohr and longing for a weapon capable of striking
the prince down at a distance. The arrival on Overland had
been so different to all his imaginings. Here he was on the
sister planeton Overland!but the malign presence of
Leddravohr, embodiment of all that was rank and evil in
Kolcorron, had degraded the experience and made the new
world an offshoot of the old. Like the ptertha increasing their
lethal powers, Leddravohr had extended his own killing radius
to encompass Overland. Toller should have been enthralled by
the spectacle of a pristine sky bisected by a zigzag line of fragile
ships which stretched down from the zenith, emerging from
invisibility as they sank like windborne seeds in search of fertile
groundbut there was Leddravohr.
Always there was Leddravohr.
Are you worried about the hills? Gesalla said. She had sunk
to a kneeling position, out of Leddravohrs view, and had one
hand raised to work the burners lever.
We can lash that down, Toller said. You wont need to
keep on holding it.
Toller, are you worried about the hills?
Yes. He took a length of twine from a locker and used it to
tie down the lever. If we could get over the hills thered be a
chance of wearing Leddravohrs bluehorn outbut I dont
know if we can gain enough height.
Im not afraid, you know. Gesalla touched his hand. If you
would prefer to go down and face him now, its all right.
No, well stay aloft as long as possible. We have food and
drink here and can keep up our strength while Leddravohr is
slowly losing his. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring
smile. Besides, littlenight will be here soon, and thats
to our advantage because the balloon will work better in the
cooler air. We may yet be able to set up our own little colony on
Overland.
Littlenight was longer than on Land, and by the time it
had passed the gondola was at an altitude of slightly more
than two-hundred feetwhich was a better gain than
Toller had expected. The lower slopes of the nameless hills
were sliding by beneath the ship, and none of the ridges he
could see ahead seemed quite high enough to claw it out of the
sky. He consulted the map he had drawn while still on the
skyship.
Theres a big lake about ten miles beyond the hills, he said.
If we can fly over it we should be able to. . . .
Toller! I think I see a ptertha! Gesalla caught his arm as she
pointed to the south. Look!
Toller threw the map down, raised his binoculars and scanned
the indicated section of sky. He was about to query Gesallas
remark when he picked out a hint of sphericity, a near-invisible
crescent of sunlight glinting on something transparent.
I think youre right, he said. And it has no colour. Thats
what Lain meant. It has no colour because. . . . He passed the
binoculars to Gesalla. Can you find any brakka trees?
I didnt realise you can see so much with glasses. Gesalla,
speaking with childish enthusiasm, might have been on a
pleasure flight as she studied the hillside. Most of the trees
arent like anything Ive ever seen before, but I think there are
brakka among them. Yes, Im sure. Brakka! How can that be,
Toller?
Guessing she was purposely distracting her mind from what
was to come, he said, Lain wrote that brakka and ptertha go
together. Perhaps the brakka discharges are so powerful that
they shoot their seeds up into. . .No, thats only for pollen, isnt
it? Perhaps brakka grow everywhereon Farland and every
other planet.
Leaving Gesalla to her observations with the binoculars,
Toller leaned on the rail and returned his attention to
Leddravohr, the relentless pursuer.
For hours Leddravohr had been slumped in the saddle, giving
the impression of being asleep, but nowas though concerned
that his quarry could be on the point of eluding himhe was
sitting upright. He had no helmet, but was shading his eyes with
his hands as he chose the bluehorns path through the trees and
patches of scrub which dappled the slopes he was climbing. Off
to the east the landing site and the line of descending balloons
had been lost in blue-hazed distance, and it was as though
Gesalla, Toller and Leddravohr had the entire planet to
themselves. Overland had become a vast sunlit arena, held
in readiness since the beginning of time. . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flapping sound
from the balloon.
The noise was followed by a downward rush of heat from the
balloon mouth which told him the ship had blundered into
turbulent air flung up from a secondary ridge. The gondola
abruptly began to yaw and sway. Toller fixed his gaze on the
main crest, which was now only about two-hundred yards away
on the line of flight. He knew that if they could scrape over it
there might be time for the balloon to recover, but in the instant
of looking at the rocky barrier he realised the situation was
hopeless. The ship, which had been so reluctant to take flight,
was already abandoning the aerial element, sailing determinedly
towards the hillside.
Hold on to something, Toller shouted. Were going
down!
He tore the extension lever free of its lashings and shut the
burner off. A few seconds later the gondola began swishing
through treetops. The sounds grew louder and the gondola
bucked violently as it impacted with increasingly thicker
branches and trunks. Above and behind Toller the collapsing
balloon tore with a series of groans and snaps as it entangled
itself with the trees, applying a brake to the ships lateral
movement.
The gondola dropped vertically as it took up the slack in its
load cables, broke free at two corners and turned on its side,
almost hurling its two occupants clear amid a shower of quilts
and small objects. Incredibly, after the jolting and dangerous
progression from treetop height, Toller found himself able to
step down easily on to mossy ground. He turned and lifted
Gesalla, who was clinging to a stanchion, and set her down
beside him.
You must get away from here, he said quickly. Get to the
other side of the hill and find a place to hide.
Gesalla threw her arms around him. I should stay with you. I
might be able to help.
Believe me, you wont be able to help. If our baby is growing
in you, you must take this chance for it to live. If Leddravohr kills
me he may not go after youespecially if he is wounded.
But. . . . Gesallas eyes widened as the bluehorn snorted a
short distance away. But I wont know what has happened.
Ill fire one of the cannon if I win. He spun Gesalla around
and pushed her away with such force that she was obliged to
break into a run to avoid falling. Only come back if you hear a
cannon.
He stood quite still and watched until Gesalla, with several
backward glances, had disappeared into the cover of the trees.
He had drawn his sword, and was looking about him for a clear
space in which to fight, when it came to him that ingrained
behaviour patterns were causing him to approach the clash with
Leddravohr as though he were entering a formal duel.
How can you think that way when other lives are at stake?
he asked himself, dismayed by the extent of his own naivety.
What was honour got to do with the plain task of excising a
canker?
He glanced at the slow-swinging gondola, decided on Leddravohrs
most probable line of approach to it, and stepped
back into the concealment of three trees which grew so closely
that they might have sprung from the same root. The same
excitement he had known beforeshameful and inexplicably
sexualbegan to steal over him.
He quieted his breathing, ridding himself of his humanity, and
a new thought occurred: Leddravohr was nearby a minute ago
so why have I not seen him by now?
Knowing the answer, he turned his head and saw Leddravohr
about ten paces away. Leddravohr had already thrown his knife.
The speed and distance were such that Toller had no time to
duck or move aside. He flung up his left hand and took the knife
in the centre of the palm. The full length of the black blade came
through between the bones with so much force that his hand was
driven back and the knife-point tore open his face just below the
left eye.
A natural instinct would have been to look at the injured
hand, but Toller ignored it and whipped his sword into the guard
position just in time to deter Leddravohr, who had followed up
on the throw with a running attack.
You have learned a few things, Maraquine, Leddravohr
said, as he too went on guard. Most men would be dead twice
over by this time.
The lesson was a simple one, Toller replied. Always
prepare for reptiles to behave as such.
I cant be goadedso keep your insults.
I havent offered any, except to reptiles.
Leddravohrs smile twitched into existence, very white in a
face made unrecognisable by traceries of dried blood. His hair
was matted and his cuirass, which had been blood-stained before
the migration flight began, was streaked with dirt and what
looked like partially-digested food. Toller moved away from the
constriction of the three trees, turning his mind to combat
tactics.
Was it possible that Leddravohr was one of those men,
fearless in all other respects, who were laid low by acrophobia?
Was that why he had been seen so little throughout the flight? If
so, Leddravohr could hardly be fit enough to embark on a
prolonged struggle.
The Kolcorronian battle sword was a two-edged weapon
whose weight precluded its use in formalised duelling. It was
limited to basic cutting and thrusting strokes which could generally
be blocked or deflected by an opponent with fast reactions
and a good eye. All other things being equal, the victor in single
combat tended to be the man with the most physical power and
endurance. Toller had a natural advantage in that he was more
than ten years younger than Leddravohr, but that had been
offset by the disablement of his left hand. Now he had reason to
suppose that the balance was restored in his favourand yet
Leddravohr, vastly experienced in such matters, had lost none of
his arrogance. . . .
Why so pensive, Maraquine? Leddravohr was moving with
Toller to maintain the line of engagement. Are you troubled by
the ghost of my father?
Toller shook his head. By the ghost of my brother. We never
settled that issue. To his surprise, he saw that his words had
disturbed Leddravohrs composure.
Why do you plague me with this?
I believe you are responsible for my brothers death.
I told you the fool was responsible for his own death.
Leddravohr made an angry stabbing movement with his sword
and the two blades touched for the first time. Why should I lie
about it, then or now? He broke his mounts leg and he refused a
seat on mine.
Lain wouldnt have done that.
He did! I tell you he could have been at your side at this
minute, and I wish he wereso that I could have the pleasure of
cleaving both your skulls.
While Leddravohr was speaking Toller took the opportunity
to glance at his wounded hand. There was no great pain as yet,
but blood was coursing steadily down the handle of the knife and
beading off it to the ground. When he shook his hand the blade
remained firmly in place, wedged to the hilt between the bones.
The wound, though not a crippling one, would have a progressive
effect on his strength and fighting capability. It behoved him
to get the duel under way as soon as possible. He forced himself
to disregard the lies Leddravohr was uttering about his brother,
and to seek a reason for the noteworthy fact that a man whose
potency must have been diminished by twelve days of dislocation
and illness appeared overweeningly confident of victory.
Was there a significant clue he had overlooked?
He studied his opponent againtenths of a second passing
like minutes in his keyed-up stateand saw only that
Leddravohr had sleeved his sword. Soldiers from some parts of
the Kolcorronian empire, principally Sorka and Middac, had the
practice of covering the base of a blade with leather so that on
occasion one hand could be transposed ahead of the hilt and the
sword used as a two-handed weapon. Toller had never seen
much merit in the idea, but he resolved to be extra wary in the
event of an unexpected variation in Leddravohrs attack.
All at once the preliminaries were over.
Each man had circled to a position which materially was no
better than any other, but which satisfied him in some indefinable
way as being the most propitious, the most suitable for his
purpose. Toller went in first, surprised at being allowed that
psychological advantage, starting on the backhand with a
series of downward hacks alternating from left to right, and
was immediately thrilled with the result. As was inevitable,
Leddravohr blocked every stroke with ease, but the blade shocks
were not quite what Toller had expected. It was as though
Leddravohrs sword arm had given way a little at each blow,
hinting at a serious lack of strength.
A few minutes could decide everything, Toller exulted as he
allowed the sequence to come to a natural end, then his
survivors instinct reasserted itself. Dangerous thinking! Would
Leddravohr have pursued me this faraloneknowing he was
unequal to the struggle?
Toller disengaged and shifted his ground, holding his dripping
left hand clear of his body. Leddravohr closed in on him with
startling speed, creating a low sweep triangle which almost
forced Toller to defend his useless arm rather than his head and
body. The flurry ended with a mighty backhand cross from
Leddravohr which actually fanned cool air against the underside
of Tollers chin. He leapt back, chastened, reminded that the
prince in a debilitated condition was a match for an ordinary
soldier in his prime.
Had that resurgence of power represented the trap he suspected
Leddravohr of preparing for him? If so, it was vital not to
allow Leddravohr breathing space and recovery time. Toller
renewed his attack on the instant, initiating sequence after
sequence with no perceptible interludes, using all his strength
but at the same time modifying fury with intelligence, allowing
the prince no mental or physical respite.
Leddravohr, breathing hard now, was forced to yield ground.
Toller saw that he was backing into a cluser of low thorn
bushes and forced himself closer, awaiting the moment when
Leddravohr would be distracted, immobilised or caught off
balance. But Leddravohr, displaying his genius for combat,
appeared to sense the presence of the bushes without having to
turn his head.
He saved himself by gathering Tollers blade in a circular
counter parry worthy of a smallsword master, stepping inside his
defences and turning both their bodies into a new line. For a
second the two men were pressed together, chest to chest, their
swords locked at the hilts overhead at the apex of the triangle
formed by their straining right arms.
Toller felt the heat of Leddravohrs breath and smelled the
foulness of vomit from him, then he broke the contact by forcing
his sword arm down, making it into an irresistible lever which
drove them apart.
Leddravohr aided the separation by jumping backwards and
quickly sidestepping to bring the thorn bushes between them.
His chest was heaving rapidly, evidence of his growing tiredness,
butstrangelyhe appeared to have been buoyed up rather
than disconcerted by the narrowness of his escape from peril. He
was leaning forward slightly in an attitude suggestive of a new
eagerness, and his eyes were animated and derisive amid the
filigrees of dried blood which covered his face.
Something has happened, Toller thought, his skin crawling
with apprehension. Leddravohr knows something!
By the way, Maraquine, Leddravohr said, sounding almost
genial, I heard what you said to your woman.
Yes? In spite of his alarm, a part of Tollers consciousness
was being taken up by the odd fact that the disgusting odour he
had endured while in contact with Leddravohr was still strong in
his nostrils. Was it really just the sourness of regurgitated food,
or was there another smell there? Something strangely familiar
and with a deadly significance?
Leddravohr smiled. It was a good idea. About firing the
cannon, I mean. It will save me the trouble of going looking for
her when I have disposed of you.
Dont waste breath on a reply, Toller urged himself.
Leddravohr is putting on too much of a show. It means he isnt
leading you into a trapit has already been sprung!
Well, I dont think Im going to need this, Leddravohr said.
He gripped the leather sleeve at the base of his sword, slid it off
and dropped it to the ground. His eyes were fixed on Toller,
amused and enigmatic.
Toller looked closely at the sleeve and saw that it seemed to
have been made in two layers, with a thin outer skin which had
been ruptured. Around the edges of the split were glistening
traces of yellow slime.
Toller looked down at his own sword, belatedly identifying the
stench which was emanating from itthe stench of whitefernand
saw more of the slime on the broadest part of the blade,
close to the hilt. The black material of the blade was bubbling
and vapouring as it dissolved under the attack of the brakka
slime, which had been smeared there by Leddravohrs sword
when the two were crossed at the hilts.
I accept my death, Toller mused, his thoughts blurring into
frenzied battle tempo as he saw Leddravohr darting towards
him, on condition that I dont journey alone.
He raised his head and lunged at Leddravohrs chest with his
sword. Leddravohr struck across it and snapped the blade at the
root, sending it tumbling away to one side, and in the same
movement swept his sword round into a thrust aimed at Tollers
body.
Toller took the thrust, throwing himself on to it as he knew he
had to were he to achieve lifes last ambition. He gasped as the
blade passed all the way through him, allowing him to drive on
until he was within reach of Leddravohr. He gripped the throwing
knife and, with his left hand still impaled on it, ran the blade
upwards into Leddravohrs stomach, circling and seeking with
the tip. There was a gushing warmth on the back of his hand.
Leddravohr growled and pushed Toller away from him with
desperate force, simultaneously withdrawing his sword. He
stared at Toller, open-mouthed, for several seconds, then he
dropped the sword and sank to his knees. He pitched forward on
to his hands and remained like that, head lowered, staring at the
pool of blood gathering below his body.
Toller worked the knife free of the bones clamped around it,
mentally remote from the pain he was inflicting on himself, then
clutched his side in an effort to stem the sopping pulsations of the
sword wound. The edges of his vision were in a ferment; the
sunlit hillside was rushing towards him and retreating. He threw
the knife away, approached Leddravohr on buckling legs and
picked up the sword. Forcing all that remained of his strength
into his right arm, he raised the sword high.
Leddravohr did not look up, but he moved his head a little,
showing he was aware of Tollers actions. I have killed you,
havent I, Maraquine? he said in a choking, blood-drowning
voice. Give me that one consolation.
Sorry, but you hardly scratched me, Toller said as he
cleaved downwards with the black blade.
And this is for my brother . . . Prince!
He turned away from Leddravohrs corpse and with difficulty
steadied his gaze on the square shape of the gondola. Was it
swinging in a breeze, or was it the one fixed point in a see-sawing,
dissolving universe?
He set out to walk towards it, intrigued by the discovery that it
was now very far away . . . at a remove much greater than the
distance from Land to Overland . . . .
Chapter 21
He had not actually seen them, and therefore did not know if
they resembled miniature men or animals, but he was keenly
aware of their presencebecause they used lanterns.
The light from the lanterns shone out through chinks in the
rock at intervals which were not attuned to the outside worlds
rhythm of night and day. Toller liked to think of Overlanders
going about their own business in there, secure in their tumble-down
fortress, with no concern for anything which might be
happening in the universe at large.
It was the nature of his delirium that even in periods when he
felt himself to be perfectly lucid one tiny lantern would sometimes
continue to gleam from the heart of the pile. At those times
he took no pleasure from the experience. Afraid for his sanity,
he would stare at the point of light, willing it to vanish because it
had no place in the rational world. Sometimes it would obey
quickly, but there were occasions when it took hours to dim out
of existence, and then he would cling to Gesalla, making her the
lifeline which joined him to all that was familiar and normal. . . .
But Im almost fully recovered, Toller protested, waving his
arms to prove the point.
Your tongue is the only part of you which has recovered, and
even that is getting too much exercise. Just be quiet for a while
and allow me to get on with my work. She turned her back on
him and used a twig to stir the pot in which his dressings were
being boiled.
After seven days the wounds on his face and left hand needed
virtually no attention, but the twin punctures in his side were still
discharging. Gesalla cleaned them and changed the dressings
every few hours, a regimen which necessitated re-using the
meagre stock of pads and bandages she had been able to make.
Toller had little doubt that he would have died but for her
ministrations, but his gratitude was tinged with concern for her
safety. He guessed that the initial confusion in the fleets landing
zone must have rivalled that of the departure, but it seemed little
short of a miracle to him that he and Gesalla had since remained
unmolested for so long. With each passing day, as the fever
abated, his sense of urgency increased.
We are leaving here in the morning, my love, he thought.
Whether you agree or not.
He leaned back on the bed of folded quilts, trying to curb his
impatience, and allowed his gaze to roam the panoramic view
which the cave mouth afforded. Grassy slopes, dotted here and
there with unfamiliar trees, folded gently down for about a mile
to the west, to the edge of a large lake whose water was a pure
indigo seeded with sun-jewels. The northern and southern
shores were banked forests, receding and narrowing bands of
a colour whichas on Landwas a composite of a million
speckles ranging from lime green to deep red, representing trees
at different stages of their leaf cycles. The lake stretched all the
way to a western horizon composed of the ethereal blue triangles
of distant mountains, above which a pure sky soared up to
encompass the disk of the Old World.
It was a scene which Toller found unutterably beautiful, and in
the first days in the cave he had been unable to distinguish it with
any certainty from other products of his delirium. His memory of
those days was patchy. It had taken him some time to understand
that he had not succeeded in firing a cannon, and that Gesalla
had made an independent decision to go back for him. She had
tried to make little of the matter, claiming that had Leddravohr
been victorious he would soon have advertised the fact by
coming in search of her. Toller had known otherwise.
Lying in the hushed peace of early morning, watching Gesalla
go about the chores she had set for herself, he felt a surge of
admiration for her courage and resourcefulness. He would never
understand how she had managed to get him into the saddle of
Leddravohrs bluehorn, load up with supplies from the gondola,
and lead the beast on foot for many miles before finding the cave.
It would have been a considerable feat for a man, but for
a slightly-built woman facing an unknown planet and all its
possible dangers on her own the achievement had been truly
exceptional.
Gesalla is a truly exceptional woman, Toller thought. So how
long will it be before she realises I have no intention of taking her
off into the wilderness?
The sheer impracticability of his original plan had weighed
heavily on Toller after his rationality had begun to return.
Without a baby to consider it might have been possible for two
adults to eke out some kind of fugitive existence in the forests of
Overlandbut if Gesalla was not already pregnant she would
see to it that she became pregnant.
It had taken him some time to appreciate that the core of the
problem also contained its solution. With Leddravohr dead
Prince Pouche would have become King, and Toller knew him to
be a dry, dispassionate man who would abide by Kolcorrons
traditional leniency with pregnant womenespecially as
Leddravohr was the only one who could have testified about
Gesallas use of the cannon against him.
The task ahead, Toller had decidedwhile doing his best to
ignore the gleam of the single, persistent Overlanders lantern
in the mound of rubblewas to keep Gesalla alive until she
was demonstrably with child. A hundred days seemed a
reasonable target, but the very act of setting a term had somehow
increased and aggravated his unease about the fleeting
passage of time. How was he to strike the proper balance
between leaving early and only being able to travel slowly,
and leaving latewhen the swiftness of a deer might prove
insufficient?
What are you brooding about? Gesalla said, removing the
boiling pot from the heat.
About youand about preparing to leave here in the
morning.
I told you, you arent ready. She knelt beside him to inspect
his dressings and the touch of her hands sent a pleasurable shock
racing down to his groin.
I think another part of me is starting to recover, he said.
Thats something else you arent ready for. She smiled as
she dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth. You can have some
stew instead.
A fine substitute, he grumbled, making an unsuccessful
attempt to touch her breasts as she slid away from him. The
sudden movement of his arm, slight though it was, produced a
sharp pain in his side and made him wonder how he would fare
trying to get astride the bluehorn in the morning.
He pushed the worry to the back of his thoughts and watched
Gesalla as she prepared a simple breakfast. She had found a
flattish, slightly concave stone to use as a hob. By mingling on it
tiny pinches of pikon and halvell brought from the ship, she was
able to create a smoke-free heat which would not betray their
whereabouts to pursuers. When she had finished warming
the stewa thick mixture of grain, pulses and shreds of
saltbeefshe passed a dish of it to him and allowed him to feed
himself.
Toller had been amused to noteecho of the old Gesalla he
thought he had knownthat among the essentials she had
salvaged from the gondola were dishes and table utensils. There
was a poignancy about eating in such conditions, with commonplace
domestic items framed in the pervasive strangeness of a
virgin world; with the romance which could have suffused the
moment abnegated by uncertainties and danger.
Toller was not really hungry, but he ate steadily with a
determination to win back his strength as quickly as possible.
Apart from occasional snuffles from the tethered bluehorn the
only sounds reaching the cave from elsewhere were the rolling
reports of brakka pollination discharges. The frequency of the
explosions indicated that brakka were plentiful throughout the
region, and were a reminder of the question which had first been
posed by Gesallaif the other plant forms of Overland were
unknown on Land, why did the two worlds have the brakka in
common?
Gesalla had collected handfuls of grass, leaves, flowers and
berries for joint scrutiny, andwith the possible exception of
the grass, upon which only a botanist could have passed judgmentall
had shared the common factor of strangeness. Toller
had reiterated his idea that the brakka was a universal form, one
which would be found on any planet, but although he was unused
to pondering such matters he recognised that the notion had an
unsatisfactory philosophical feel to it, one which made him wish
he could turn to Lain for guidance.
Theres another ptertha, Gesalla exclaimed. Look! I can
see seven or eight of them going towards the water.
Toller looked in the direction she was indicating and had to
change the focus of his eyes several times before he picked
out the bubble-glints of the colourless, near-invisible spheres.
They were slowly drifting down the hillside on the air flow
generated by the night-time cooling of the surface.
Youre better at spotting those things than I am, he said
ruefully. That one yesterday was almost in my lap before I saw
it.
The ptertha which had drifted in on them soon after littlenight
on the previous day had come to within ten paces of Tollers bed,
and in spite of what he had learned from Lain the nearness of it
had inspired much of the dread he would have experienced on
Land. Had he been mobile he would probably have been unable
to prevent himself from hurling his sword through it. The globe
had hovered nearby for a few seconds before sailing away down
the hillside in a series of slow ruminative bounds.
Your face was a picture! Gesalla paused in her eating to
parody an expression of fear.
Ive just thought of something, Toller said. Have we any
writing materials?
No. Why?
You and I are the only two people on the whole of Overland
who know what Lain wrote about the ptertha. I wish I had
thought of telling Chakkell. All those hours together on the
shipand I didnt even mention it!
You werent to know there would be brakka trees and
ptertha here. You thought you were leaving all that behind.
Toller was gripped by a new and greater urgency which had
nothing to do with his personal aspirations. Listen, Gesalla,
this is the most important thing either of us will ever have the
chance to do. You have got to make sure that Pouche and
Chakkell hear and understand Lains ideas.
If we leave the brakka trees alone, to live out their time and
die naturally, the ptertha here will never become our enemies.
Even a modest amount of cullingthe way they did it in
Chamtethis probably too much because the ptertha there had
turned pink and thats a sign that. . . . He stopped speaking as
he saw that Gesalla was staring at him, her expression of odd
blend of concern and accusation.
Is there anything the matter?
You said/had to make sure that Pouche and. . . .Gesalla
set her dish down and came to kneel beside him. Whats going
to happen to us, Toller?
He forced himself to laugh then exaggerated the effects of the
pain it caused, playing for time in which to cover up his blunder.
Were going to found our own dynasty, thats what is going
to happen to us. Do you think I would let any harm come to
you?
I know you wouldntand thats why you frightened me.
Gesalla, all I meant was that we must leave a message here
. . . or somewhere else where it will be found and taken to the
King. Im not able to move around much, so I have to turn the
responsibility over to you. Ill show you how to make charcoal,
and then well find something to. . . .
Gesalla was slowly shaking her head and her eyes were
magnified by the first tears he had ever seen there. Its all
unreal, isnt it? Its all just a dream.
Flying to Overland was just a dreamoncebut now were
here, and in spite of everything were still alive. He drew her
down to lie beside him, her head cushioned on his shoulder. I
dont know whats going to happen to us, Gesalla. All I can
promise is that. . . how did you put it? . . . that we are not going
to surrender life to the butchers. That has to be enough for us.
Now, why dont you rest and let me watch over you, just for a
change?
All right, Toller. Gesalla made herself comfortable, fitting
her body to his whilst being careful of his injuries, and in an
amazingly short time she was asleep. Her transition from
anxious wakefulness to the tranquillity of sleep was announced
by the faintest of snores, and Toller smiled as he stored the event
in his memory for use in future bantering. The only home
they were likely to know on Overland would be built of such
insubstantial timbers.
He tried to stay awake, to watch over her, but the vapours of
an insidious weariness were coiling in his headand the last
Overlanders lantern was again glowing in the rock pile.
The only way to escape from it was to close his eyes. . . .
Toller tried to moves to take some defensive action in spite of
his weakness and the encumbrance of Gesallas body draped
across his own, then he saw that the sword in the soldiers hand
was Leddravohrs, and even in his befuddled state he was able to
assess the situation correctly.
It was too late to do anything, anything at allbecause his
little domain had already been surrounded, conquered and
overrun.
Further evidence came from the shifting of the light as other
soldiers moved around beyond the immediate area of the cave
mouth. There were the sounds of men beginning to talk as they
realised that silence was no longer required, and from somewhere
nearby came the snorting and slithering of a bluehorn as it
made its way down the bill. Toller squeezed Gesallas shoulder
to bring her awake, and although she remained immobile he felt
her spasm of alarm.
The soldier with the sword moved away and his place was
taken by a slit-eyed major, whose head was in near-silhouette
against the sky as he looked down at Toller. Can you stand
up?
Nohes too ill, Gesalla said, rising to a kneeling position.
I can stand. Toller caught her arm. Help me, GesallaI
prefer to be on my feet at this time. With her assistance he
achieved a standing position and faced the major. He was dully
surprised to find that, when he should have been oppressed by
failure and prospects of death, he was discomfited by the trivial
fact that he was naked.
Well, major, he said, what is it you want of me?
The majors face was professionally impassive. The King will
speak to you now.
He moved aside and Toller saw the paunchy figure of Chakkell
approaching. His dress was subdued and plain, suitable for
cross-country riding, but suspended from his neck was a huge
blue jewel which Toller had seen only once before, when it had
been worn by Prad. Chakkell had retrieved Leddravohrs sword
from the first soldier and was carrying it with the blade leaning on
his right shoulder, a neutral position which could quickly
become one of attack. His swarthy well-padded face and brown
scalp were gleaming in the equatorial heat.
He came within two paces of Toller and surveyed him from
head to toe. Well, Maraquine, I promised I would remember
you.
Majesty, I daresay I have given you and your loved ones
good cause to remember me. Toller was aware of Gesalla
drawing closer to him, and for her sake he went on to rid his
words of any possible ambiguity. A fall of a thousand miles
would have. . . .
Dont start rhyming at me again, Chakkell cut in. And lie
down, man, before you fall down!
He nodded to Gesalla, ordering her to ease Toller down on to
the quilts, and signalled for the major and the rest of his escort to
withdraw. When they had retreated out of earshot he squatted in
the dirt and, unexpectedly, lobbed the black sword over Toller
and into the dimness of the cave.
We are going to have a brief conversation, he said, and not
a word of it is to be repeated. Is that clear?
Toller nodded uncertainly, wondering if he dared introduce
hope to the confusion of his thoughts and emotions.
There is a certain amount of ill-feeling towards you among
the nobility and among the military who completed the
crossing, Chakkell said comfortably. After all, not many men
have committed regicide twice in the space of three days. It can
be dealt with, however. There is a great air of practicality in our
new stateletand the settlers appreciate that loyalty to one
living king is more beneficial to the health than a similar regard
for two dead kings. Are you wondering about Pouche?
Does he live?
He lives, but he was quick to see that the subtleties of his kind
of statesmanship would be inappropriate to the situation we
have here. He is more than happy to relinquish his claims to the
throneif a chair made from old gondola parts can be dignified
with that name.
It came to Toller that he was seeing Chakkell as he had never
seen him beforecheerful, loquacious, at ease with his environment.
Was it simply that he preferred supremacy for himself and
his offspring in a seedling society to preordained secondary role
in the long-established and static Kolcorron? Or was it that
he possessed an adventurous spirit which had been liberated
by the unique circumstances of the great migration? Looking
closely at Chakkell, encouraged by his instincts, Toller
experienced a sudden upwelling of relief and the purest kind of
joy.
Gesalla and I are going to have children, he thought. And it
doesnt matter that she and I will have to die some day, because
our children will have children, and the future stretches out before
us . . . on and on . . . on and on, except that. . . .
One reality dissolved around Toller and he found himself
standing on a rocky outcrop to the west of Ro-Atabri. He was
gazing through his telescope at the sprawled body of his brother,
reading that last communication which had nothing to do with
revenge or personal regrets, but whichas befitted Lains
compassionate intellectaddressed itself to the welfare of millions
as yet unborn.
Prince . . . Majesty. . . . Toller raised himself on one
elbow the better to confront Chakkell with the truth which had
been placed in his keeping, but the incautious torsion of his body
lanced him with an agony which stilled his voice and dropped
him back into his bedding.
Leddravohr came very near to killing you, didnt he?
Chakkells voice had lost all of its lightness.
That doesnt matter, Toller said, smoothing Gesallas hair
as she bent over the renewed fire of the wounds in his side. You
knew my brother and what he was?
Yes.
Very well. Forget all about memy brother lives in my
body, and he is speaking to you through my mouth. . . .Toller
went on, battling through riptides of nausea and weakness to
paint a word-picture of the tortured triangular relationship
involving humankind, the brakka tree and the ptertha. He
described the symbiotic partnership between brakka and
ptertha, using inspiration and informed imagination where real
knowledge failed.
As in all cases of true symbiosis, both parties derived benefit
from the association. The ptertha bred in high levels of the
atmosphere, nourishedin all probabilityby minute traces of
pikon and halvell, or miglign gas, or brakka pollen, or by some
derivation from the four. In return, the ptertha sought out all
organisms who threatened the welfare of the brakka. Employing
the blind forces of random mutation, they varied their internal
composition until they chanced on an effective toxin, at which
pointthe path having been signpostedthey concentrated
and refined and aimed it to create a weapon capable of scourging
the scourge, of removing from existence all traces of that which
did not deserve to exist.
The way ahead for mankind on Overland lay in treating the
brakka with the respect it deserved. Only dead trees should be
used for their yield of super-hard materials and power crystals,
and if the supply seemed insufficient it was incumbent on the
immigrants to develop substitutes or to modify their way of life
accordingly.
If they failed to do so, the history of humanity on Land would,
inevitably, be repeated on Overland. . . .
I admit to being impressed, Chakkell said when Toller had
finally finished speaking. There is no real proof that what you
say is true, but it is worthy of serious consideration. Luckily for
our generation, which has seen its full share of hardships, there is
no need to make any hasty decisions. We have enough to worry
about in the meantime.
You must not think that way, Toller urged. You are the
ruler . . . and you have the unique opportunity . . . the unique
responsibility. . .. He sighed and stopped speaking, yielding
to a tiredness which seemed to dim the very heavens.
Save your strength for another time, Chakkell said gently.
I should let you rest now, but before I leave Id like to know
one more thing. Between you and Leddravohrwas it a fair
contest?
It was almost fair . . . until he destroyed my sword with
brakka slime.
But you overcame him just the same.
It was required of me. Toller was experiencing the mysticism
which can come with illness and utter weariness. I was
born to overcome Leddravohr.
Perhaps he knew that.
Toller forced his gaze to steady on Chakkells face. I dont
know what you. . . .
I wonder if Leddravohr had any heart for all of this, for our
brave new beginning, Chakkell said. I wonder if he pursued
youalonebecause he divined that you were his Bright
Road?
That idea, Toller whispered, has little appeal for me.
You need to rest. Chakkell stood up and addressed himself
to Gesalla. Look after this man for my sake as well as your
ownI have work for him. I think it would be better not to move
him for some days yet, but you seem quite comfortable here. Do
you need any supplies?
We could use more fresh water, Majesty, Gesalla said.
Apart from that our wants are already satisfied.
Yes. Chakkell studied her face for a moment. Im going to
take your bluehorn because we have only seven all told, and the
breeding must begin as soon as possible, but I will post guards
nearby. Call them when you deem you are ready to leave here.
Does that suit you?
Yes, Majestywe are indebted.
I trust your patient will remember that when his health is
recovered. Chakkell turned and strode away towards the waiting
soldiers, moving with the energetic assurance peculiar to
those who feel themselves to be responding to the calls of
destiny.
Toller cautiously raised himself in the bed. He glanced at the
mound of rocky fragments intherearofthe cave, then turned his
head away quickly, unwilling to risk seeing the tiny lantern
gleaming at him. Only when it had ceased to shine altogether
would he know for certain that the fever had entirely left his
system, and until then he had no wish to be reminded of how
close he had come to death and to losing all that Gesalla meant to
him.
She looked up from her emergent patterns. Did you see
something back there?
Theres nothing, he said, mustering a smile. Nothing at
all.
But Ive noticed you staring at those rocks before. What is
your secret? Intrigued, and playing a game for his benefit,
Gesalla came to him and knelt to share his line of sight. The
movement brought her face very close to his, and he saw her eyes
widen in surprise.
Toller! Her voice was that of a child, hushed with wonder.
Theres something shining in there!
She rose to her feet with all the speed of which her weightless
body was capable, stepped over him and ran into the cave.
Prey to a strange fear, Toller tried to call out a warning, but his
throat was dry and the power of speech seemed to have deserted
him. And Gesalla was already throwing the outermost stones
aside. He watched numbly as she put her hands into the mound,
lifted something heavy and bore it out to the brighter light at the
entrance to the cave.
She knelt beside him, cradling the find on her thighs. It was a
large flake of dark grey rockbut it was unlike any rock Toller
had ever seen before. Running across and through it, integral to
and yet differing from the stone, was a broad band of material
which was white, but more than white, reflecting the sun like the
waters of a distant lake at dawn.
Its beautiful, Gesalla breathed, but what is it?
I dont. . . . Grimacing with pain, Toller reached for his
clothing, found a pocket and brought out the strange memento
given to him by his father. He placed it against the gleaming
stratum in the stone, confirming what he already knewthat
they were identical in composition.
Gesalla took the nugget from him and ran a fingertip across its
polished surface. Where did you get this?
My father . . . my real father . . . gave it to me in Chamteth
just before he died. He told me he found it long ago. Before I was
born. In the Redant province.
I feel strange. Gesalla shivered as she looked up at the
misty, enigmatic, watchful disk of the Old World. Was ours not
the first migration, Toller? Has it all happened before?
I think soperhaps many timesbut the important thing
for us is to ensure that it never. . . . His weariness forced Toller
to leave the sentence unfinished.
He laid the back of his hand on the lustrous strip within the
rock, captivated by its coolness and its strangenessand by
silent intimations that, somehow, he could make the future
differ from the past.