The Nearest Fire (V1.0), page 12
Before I could translate, Tsorl rose to his feet and limped to face Sam Fletcher. His manner had become urgent and oddly formal. He spoke in Moruian, not trusting his new speech.
“Captain Sam Fletcher, I must ask you to unpick the last few lines of that tape. I cannot for my life and honor have such words spoken anywhere on Torin.”
I was able to translate, however clumsily; I knew what would follow.
“I can’t do that!” roared Sam, his human voice making the Comcen ring. “Blue Hell, Yolo Ham, he knows I can’t do that. What do a few words in Moruian matter?”
“These words concern the Deputy,” I said. “Even I do not know what they mean. Nothing was said of Scott Gale. Please Sam, do as he asks!”
“I can’t do it!”
Sam turned to the Deputy.
“This is my ship. No one else will hear or understand the tape.”
“The small ship fell into Nantgeeb’s hand!” said Tsorl angrily.
He turned aside and limped across the shining floor on his ring-walker.
“Please,” I said. “Do this thing for Tsorl-U-Tsorl. He was a leader of our city, Tsagul. Now for no bad thing—I no crime—he is lame and has no friends except for yourself, Sam Deg, and Lisa-Child and Karen-Ru. He helps you. Please do this one thing he asks.”
“You left out the best friend of all,” said Sam kindly. “He has Yolo Ham to help him. Tell the Deputy I will do as he asks.”
So I went and led the Deputy back to the panel, and Sam ran the tape again; when he gave the signal, the last few speeches were erased. Still they lived in my memory,I and I puzzled over Nantgeeb’s last words: “Another empty grave ringed with fire.”
IIII
We went away from the ship and had time for another short sleep before breakfast. When we came to the camp again, the humans were all highly excited from the report of last night’s message, and Karen was shining like the two suns. She had it fixed in her mind that Scott Gale was coming. I was not so sure and tried to lessen her hopes.
“But what does he mean by danger?” she asked, looking around at us as we all sat with our eating trays on the platform. ’This Engine-maker, this Magician … what does he mean?”
I laughed and exchanged glances with Tsorl.
“Come on, Yolo Harn,” said Karen, “I see you smiling. Have I said the name wrong, Nantgeeb?”
“Not the name, Karen-Ru,” I said. “The Maker of Engines, Nantgeeb, is female. SheI spoke of danger.”
“Is that a fact?” asked Sam. “I was doubtful once or twice, but I thought she was a young man … male …”
“Nantgeeb is not so young,” said Tsorl. “I know a little of her history from my father who studied science. Once she was a leading house servant of Clan Luntroy.”
“No clan of mine. …” I grinned, and the Deputy gave a laugh.
“I’m sick and tired of these private jokes in Moruian!” exploded Sam.
“All right,” said Lisa. “We get the message … Sam Deg.”
So with this kind of teasing talk we finished breakfast and went off to all kinds of tasks. It was the sort of island day that is hot and still, with a film of cloud over the Great Sun; the sea had been peaceful all the time we were on Tsabeggan but now it was choppy beyond the harbor mouth. I put off my revision test with the Teaching Machine, took a specimen bag from the blue tent, and went off toward the foothills to gather fruit. There was a large ogodan or green-hat tree just ready for the harvest below a certain rock pinnacle, and I wanted to get to it before the weljin and the flame-birds.
It was a steady walk up a gentle slope through the forest with the trees and vines separating into their natural layers. Here the lace leaves thinned out, here a bright green shrub began to appear on the forest floor, here the mountain redwoods became more numerous. I came to the tree and found the weljin there before me, several families of them. I shooed them away, and they went to the top of the tree’s high green canopy and pelted me, slyly, with overripe fruit.
I filled my bag and then sat still, hiding from the tree-folk. I wanted to get a good look at them. Karen-Ru insisted that they resembled her own species in that the females had no pouch. I fell into a dream of ages passing on Torin and the weljin producing distant sibs like Humans. I thought about the world of Torin and its animals. We kept fewer pets, it seemed, than Humans in their cities. We had no carrying animals—though there had been some kind of thick-skinned beast that warriors rode on in very distant times.
Before the weljin came down again, I heard someone, hurrying through the forest toward the tree. I thought from the noise it must be one of the humans. I called out,I “Hello,” and received a long, breathless: “Nahoo … Be silent!”
Tsorl-U-Tsorl was climbing toward me; I went forward to help him. He looked wild and strange, and I saw that he carried a good deal of our gear from Little Fish Cove strung about his body. He even had a blanket strung about him for a cloak although the day was hot.
“Deputy, what is this? Why have you left them?”
My first thought was that he had quarreled with Sam Fletcher. Or perhaps the Deputy was so full of his dark,I private thoughts that he had turned hermit.
“I am not mad, Yolo Ham,” he said, reading my thoughts.
He held out Sam Fletcher’s small one-eyed seeing-glass “Look to the harbor,” he said.
“A ship! Has their Scott Gale come then?”
Tsorl sat in the shade of the ogodan tree surrounded by the odds and ends he bad brought; he had a strange,I defeated look. I stared at him, wondering, and as I went to climb on a rock with the seeing-glass, a new sound echoed about the island. It was an unusual one but I had heard it before .. . the high hooting call from the chimney of a steam vessel.
I moved around the rocky shelves until I had a perfect view of the harbor of Tsabeggan, a pond of still water within the old Tsatroy stonework on the headland. A ship had just entered the harbor, and I saw at once that it was a Mattroyan steam vessel. But this was neither the Ullonor the Telve,I the two big working trade ships that had made the fortune of the Merchant of Itsik. This was his famous ship-of-honor that some called his folly, his silly fancy-work ship. This was the Estiar,I the Little Sun, puffing into the quiet harbor with its funnel mast shining, its rails decked with colored cords, its rigging twined with good-luck skeins and silk lilies and banners.
My first thoughts were ones of pride and joy for the whole land of Torin. Mattroyan, the Merchant, had somehow found Scott Gale and now he was bringing the human home to his family. Karen-Ru would be united with her dear partner, and all the many-colored threads of Torin and its people and the things they had made would be displayed for the humans. I lifted the seeing-glass and stared at the decks of the Esnar,I seeking a human among the others. And I saw instead an armed troop of Pentroy vassals, black messengers of the Great Elder’s power, surrounding a thin grayish figure, magnificently dressed. There was even a large Pentroy banner at the masthead and at the bow that I had missed among the colored skeins. I felt as if a black cloud had blotted out the sun.
I walked slowly around to the tree and sat upon the ground beside Tsorl-U-Tsorl, hanging my head.
“You saw?”
“Pentroy. And one among them that must be Ammur, the High Steward. Would the Great Elder be there too—I below decks?”
“Tiath would never venture so far from the continent.”
“Why have they come?” I burst out. “Have they brought Scott Gale? Was this the danger Nantgeeb meant?”
“I don’t know, Yolo Harn, and I dare not stay to find out.” .
I knew with an inner shuddering that he was right; he could not be seen by Aramur or it would mean his death. My next thoughts were of our poor friends. What did the Pentroy intend for them? I knew they would greet the ship with delight.
“The Pentroy will not harm them,” said Tsorl. “This is not an attack—it is a peaceful visit. We do not know how things stand between Scott and the Pentroy. He may have become the friend of the Great Elder.”
“Is that possible?”
“Of course,” said Tsorl. “What better way to control the new power these humans bring? Fair words and fancy-work presents. It is not Tiath’s way, but perhaps he has done it.”
“We must stay out of sight…” I whispered.
“Do you think the vassals will know you?”
“No. I doubt that very much. No vassal who had served time on Itsik would be sent on a pleasure trip like this.”
“Yolo Harn, you are the one person on this world, the one Moruian, who speaks reasonable human speech.”
“I am still far from perfect.”
But I knew what the Deputy meant. I could not leave Karen-Ru, Lisa-Child and Sam Deg at the mercy of the Pentroy. I looked sadly around at the forest and heard the twittering of the tree-folk and the flap of a flame-bird’s wings. Far, far behind my eyes, perhaps, I thought of freedom once again. I sat for a moment with the Deputy,I and we arranged a place for leaving message skeins in the lower forest. Then I gathered up my bag of ripe fruit and went down the hill, heading back to camp. I seemed to hear the sweet voice of the Teaching Machine in my head:I
“You must go back.”
8
The Ningan’s Web
II went back faster and faster once the decision was made and arrived at the blue tent breathless. What I saw made me want to laugh and cry. In place of the three friends I saw every day there were three new persons. Sam, Lisa and Karen had taken the time while the ship approached to dress in fresh clothes. Lisa and Karen had silk overalls, in that blinding white that the looms of Earth manage so well, and Sam was very fine in a uniform of white, blue and gold.
“Yolo …” Karen was bright-eyed. “Look—do you think he is coming?”
“Who are they?” asked Sam. “Is Scotty with them? Was Nantgeeb telling us about this visit?”
“I have heard of the persons who come on this ship.”
I had the first hint of the terrible difficulties that lay ahead. How could I explain even a part of the things II knew and feared from Ammur Ningan and the Pentroy vassals?
“Come on!” exclaimed Sam Deg. “These are your folks, Yolo Harn. Moruians like yourself. Cheer up, don’t shut your eyes. Where’s the Deputy? We want him on the platform…
“No!’’ I shouted. “The Deputy cannot be seen by these people.”
Lisa and Sam looked at each other then, and Lisa laid a hand on my arm.
“We don’t want to get mixed up in any quarrels, Yolo,” she said. “Will you translate for us? We comp in peace—I that’s the main thing to say. We come in peace, and we want news of Scott Gale.”
Karen who had been watching the ship come closer came running in.
“Sam, they’re docking. Can we help?”
I stood helpless, pulling leaves from my hair.
“I must clean up,” I said. “Then I will help with the speaking.”
“Yolo … ?”
Sam Fletcher looked into my face earnestly, and I knew what he feared.
“I will not run away,” I said.
I ran down the paths between the domes and the labeled grasses until I came to the sandhills and so to Little Fish Cove. Tsorl had left my own possessions; so many of them came from the humans that I was suddenly ashamed of living so completely on their bounty. I splashed my face with water and dragged my plaited hair into some sort of order. Then I cast off my good tunic of prison gray and put on the T-shirt over my short breeches. It was beautifully white and closely woven with two sleeves, and had a ring of green leaves for the planet Earth painted on the cloth. I was a creature between two worlds, a Moruian half in human clothes. As I turned back to the camp where the bright flags of the EsnarI fluttered at the old dock, I caught a glimpse of my precious boat in its place among the reeds. Stay till I come, I told the boat, we will sail again together.
As I came through the grass trails, I saw that the ship had docked and the gangway was going down. I hurried to the platform and stood behind the others. We could hear the voices of the crew making all fast, but these were the only voices. There was no sound of music, no landing songs. The ship looked like a pleasure ship, but it did not sound like one. I saw the Pentroy vassals lining the rail in silence; on the high bridge an omor flashed a finger sign before a leather mask-helmet. The averting sign. They were all afraid.
The humans were talking excitedly but in low voices, almost whispering, as if the silence from the laden ship had affected their spirits.
“Shall we wave or make any sign?” asked Sam.
“Place your hands on the chest for ‘no weapons,’ ” I said. I I I ,
A green mat rolled down the gangplank, and two of the tallest vassals came down and stood to right and left. Then came a young house servant in gray and green carrying a large hamper of presents, a “wish-basket” tied up with colored cords. Then at last came the Pentroy High Steward: an old straight-backed creature, not tall but accustomed to command.
Amraur Ningan wore a jeweled pectoral over a straight gray robe; the sunlight flashed on black and yellow stones mounted in silver; there were rings on the stubby hands. In one hand she held a tall staff tipped with metal, in the other a sheaf of willow paper. Pens and skeins dangled at belt and wrists; I remembered the Deputy’s description:I “the scribe of scribes.”
The vassals were coming from the ship; I was keeping count: there were thirty of them. More Pentroy than II cared to see in one place and more of an army than was often seen in the whole of Torin. Ammur kept her eyes fixed upon the humans on the platform; she paced slowly forward across the grass and the old cobblestones and stilled the little murmur of Moruian voices with a movement of her staff.
She cried out in a strong singsong voice, “In the name of the Great Elder and the Council of Five I bid good wind, greeting, peace and all bonds of friendship to beings called Man.”
Sam Fletcher stepped forward and bowed, but before he could reply or even discover what had been said, the Ningan bowed in his direction and continued in a loud voice: “See—it appears peaceful. Fetch my chair. Do you see any weapons? Officers, any weapons to be seen?”
I translated all this in a low voice to the humans.
“She speaks this way because she has not seen me.”
“Step forward, Yolo,” ordered Sam. “Come here beside me.”
I preferred to wait. Perhaps I hoped that the Ningan would become more rude and high-handed, knowing that the humans did not understand her speech. A vassal unfolded a writing chair of wood and carpet cloth with a platten built to one side and the Ningan settled upon it, eyes still fixed upon the humans. When she was seated, Sam Fletcher bowed again and spoke.
“We have no weapons,” he said. “We return your greetings. Captain Sam Fletcher, First Officer; Lisa Child—”
The Ningan turned about angrily as an officer whispered in her ear.
“Where? What?” she exclaimed. “An Islander? Are you sure?”
At last the long yellowish eyes—which were in fact short-sighted from years of scribe’s work—rested upon myself. I walked between Sam and Karen, bowed to the Ningan and went down the steps of the platform.
“Fetch it,” said Ammur harshly.
An officer with an arrow skin-sewn on its upper arm was upon me in two strides; I stood my ground. As the creature’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, Sam Fletcher lost patience and let loose his human voice.
“Now wait a minuterI he roared. “Let her alone!”
All the Moruians cringed; Ammur rubbed an ear; after two pulse beats she blinked and nodded at Sam Fletcher. With a thin, upcurving smile, she beckoned me. I stepped up and stood beside the writing chair; I saw that the thin, mirthless smile had netted her face into hundreds of wrinkles.
“What are you? And what are you doing with these strangers?”
The tone was not harsh, but there was behind it a world of threat and power. There were few common folk on Torin who would not come when the Ningan beckoned. I looked at her and prepared to lie. But her yellow eyes did not see farther than my face and perhaps even that was shadowy to her. The Maker of Engines might have looked deeper; it would have been difficult to lie to a Diviner.
“I am Yolo Harn, sailor out of Tsagul,” I said. “I was washed overboard from a salt boat, Excellence, and came in the Round Current to this place. The humans found me.”
“Salt boat?”
“The GvaloI out of Tsagul.”
It was indeed a salt boat … the one on which I had traveled to Itsik.
“What was that you called these devils?”
“Humans, Excellence.”
“Do they have weapons?”
“I have never seen one in all the time I have been with them. They are scholars and come in peace.”
“Do they use fire and metal?”
“Open flames never, but metal yes. More than we do.”
“Why do they give you this tunic and have you close to them? Axe you their servant?”
“Excellence,” I said, “I have their speech, and I can stand between your Excellence and the Humans and tell what each one says.”
The Ningan stared at me in silence for as long as ten pulse beats, and although I am no Diviner, I saw that this simple fact had altered all her plans. It was completely unexpected. What might have happened if there had been no Yolo Ham, no “sailor” on Tsabeggan? I guessed later that some of the Ningan’s rituals would have been unchanged, but after a show of greeting there would have been a quick seizure of the “devils.” As it was, she tried to turn my presence to her advantage.
“So be it,” she said. “Do this faithfully, by the North Wind or the spirit Telve, my young sailor, and you will earn the favor of the highest in the land. Present your humans to me.”
So, with the backs of my legs trembling a little as if I were facing up to a sea-sunner, I stepped into the open space between the platform and the Ningan’s chair and spoke in Moruian in a loud voice.
“These present return the greetings of the Great Elder and the Council, and they are called Captain Sam Fletcher, the leader, and Lisa-Child, the First Officer, and Karen Schwartz, the scholar, of the ship Heron,I flown from the planet Earth in the void to the land of Torin.”
