The Nearest Fire (V1.0), page 7
“We came with our strange cargo to a tiny hamlet on the east bank of the Troon, a place called Pelle. I remember sitting at the eating mat with Old Thune and the younger scribe, then we all woke suddenly in bright twin sunshine. We had slept at the eating mat for more than a day, and the crew of Pentroy vassals had slept too. The silver ship was gone from the deck.
“I don’t know to this day how the sleeping was managed: probably sleep-medicine in the food. We had bought fruit and fish on the river and at Pelle. The ship? The wretched vassals claimed that it had been ‘spirited away.’ In fact it must have been a very well-planned engineering feat: the ship removed by hoist and sailed up the local stream.”
“How did you know it was stolen by the Magician?” I asked.
“Rumor and guesswork! The villagers had been bribed, but they were bribed again: it did seem to be the work of this Great Diviner. I was relieved. At first I thought the ship might have been stolen by treasure-seekers to be melted down and destroyed. By the fire, I missed that ship! It was the finest and most interesting set of mechanisms that I had ever seen. I bitterly envied Nantgeeb, who had it now to study at leisure.
“We made a search around the village, then sailed on as fast as we could to Rintoul—the vassals were half dead with fear of the Great Elder’s wrath. I could not believe that the scholars and I were in physical danger; it had been no part of our business to guard the silver ship. I would have done well to share the vassals’ fear and make a run for it. Indeed I think some vassals took to .the river and the delta lands.
“I intended to make my report to Tiath Pentroy and put in a word for the crew; who can guard against sleep-medicine? We sailed to the city wharf, and there was Ammur Ningan to meet us with a contingent of household servants, even members of the city watch. She was more gray than ever, a wraith in the cold morning light, her long face pale with fear and rage. The poor scholars and I were quickly overwhelmed. I cursed myself for a fool and an innocent; by comparison with these clan creatures, the very Council at Tsagul are cautious and law-abiding.
“I was flung into a cell below an ancient building in Rintoul: the so-called Sea Flower room. I saw that I had been horribly betrayed and could hope for no justice. I considered that my chances of surviving were very small.
I raged fiercely and demanded audience with the Great Elder* I was determined not to die without a fight and to proclaim my name and my whereabouts to all the prisoners and guards in the building, in case a message might be brought to Tilje Paroyan or my other friends in Tsagul.
I sat in chains and could not tell night from day.
“Then he came, the old Strangler, Tiath Gargan himself. What a figure he cuts! The whole world seems to cringe at his step. And so reasonable, almost soft-voiced. When I see this monster parading about as the greatest power on Torin, I don’t wonder that our flying machines are poor contraptions. His arrogance has strangled all his good qualities.”
“I did not know this terrible ruler had any good qualities,” I put in.
“There is no doubt of it,” said the Deputy. “He has been the power in Clan Pentroy, if not the Great Elder, ever since he was a young flyer. He has brought order and peace and made many wise decisions, though at cost very often to the people of Tsagul. He has done this for six fives, for thirty years.”
“Was this long after the last battle at Sarunin?”
“Yes, a long time,” said the Deputy. “This is the so-called golden number anniversary of the Last Battle. Eleven fives, fifty-five years, have passed since that time. Tiath was a child … about two years shown, I was not yet born, by one five of years. I have often thought of Sarunin. Something might be done with that unhappy ground.”
“It is dreadful … accursed … a place of ashes… .**
“It is a pleasant valley,” said Tsorl.
“Finish your story.”
“I spoke with Tiath Pentroy, pleaded for the vassals. They had been hung, out of hand. The scholars? I believe they tried to incriminate me in order to save their own lives. No matter—I hope the miserable creatures survived.
“When Tiath was stirred to a display of wrath I shouted even louder; I drowned in rage and struck out at him. He had broken his promises on the skein he sent to Tsagul; I cursed him in fiery terms. I was beaten to the ground by the guards and lay in darkness, bleeding and neglected. After some time I found myself in the compound at Itsik. I became sick again with the wound in my leg. I have a hazy memory of being examined by an old female, strangely dressed: that would be our mad benefactor, Gwell Nu.”
“You have been ill-used, Deputy,” I said. “I wish an assassin would deal with Tiath Gargan!”
“I wish he would be defeated by law,” said the Deputy.
The Great Sun had risen, and it marked our pathway, the Round Current, stretching toward the green tree wall of the islands. Tsorl took off the worn leather vest that he wore over his red tunic and felt inside a shoulder flap. He drew out a thin fold of paper.
“I learned many things inside the small ship,” he said. “First: it can join to a much larger ship, or so I read one diagram. Second: there are at least four strangers on Torin.”
“How do you know that?”
“A kind of silk-beam copy was tucked behind the instruments. It showed four figures in silver body-bags or flying suits standing beside the small ship.”
“But tell me … the faces … the eyes…”
“The figures wore heavy helmets. But the ship stood among our own forest trees … in the islands,” replied Tsorl. “I also found this map and kept it hidden. That vile Ningan believed me so secure I was not even searched.” He spread on the deck a large square not of paper but of tough, fine material, not woven, more like fish skin. He pointed this way and that, and finally I did see: there was the ocean and there were the shapes of the Fire Islands.
“It looks like another silk-beam copy,” I said.
“You have the glimmerings of intelligence, Yolo Ham,” said the Deputy, “besides strong muscles and rash courage.”
I rose to my feet and stood tall over the square of blue skin holding an imaginary silk-beam lens to my eyes.
“It was taken from above!” I said. “From so far above the surface of the sea that the islands were spread out like a map!”
“Yes,” grinned Tsorl, “and somewhat higher than any balloons or flying machines of ours can fly.”
“What are those markings?”
“Words and numbers … I cannot get even a thread of their working. But one thing I believe I understand: those small crossed lines.”
A group of small crossed lines, not unlike the written symbol for the sound O, stood on a large island.
“That is the island of Tsabeggan,” he said, “and that is the camp of the strangers.”
“If you say so. How do we sail there? Does the Round Current show on this map?”
“A little.”
Tsorl pointed out a series of curving flecks in the sea between the islands.
“The rafts may be carried in here,” he said, “between these two islands.”
“Hindan and Steen.”
“Those are their names. The narrow strait looks dangerous. I believe there are rapids and broken water there.” “What becomes of this trash on the raft?”
“You’ve seen what happens to it!” The Deputy laughed. “It is flung or scraped off, eaten by vano or sunners. If any is left when the rafts emerge from the inland sea beyond Tsabeggan, then the sailors scrape it off before taking the rafts into tow—back to Itsik or to Rintoul.”
“Tsagul sends out no rafts!”
“I take credit for that!” exclaimed Tsorl. “I hate to throw dirt into the sea, but I think we must do it right away. We must lighten our load before we run between Hindan and its smaller neighbor.”
It was midmorning now and a fair day, hot and cloudless. Tsorl’s amputated leg was healing swiftly and well; he practiced with the ring-walker that Gwell Nu had sent with us. It was a series of hardwood rings that could be locked into position; the lower end had a half-ring, two wooden feet; the upper end could be adjusted, one ring at a time bent down or unfolded, according to the height of the lame person. Even with this device Tsorl was slow, and I kept him from lifting.
I took my redwood pole and used it to heave the barrels of tannery waste overboard. The pen was already half-empty from the young sunner and the vano; the raft rode lightly over the water.
Hindan was the largest of the Fire Islands, so big now that it did not seem like an island at all. We could see the ranked trees on the shores and, high above, the cone of its fire mountain, tipped with black rock. The island of Steen was hovering in a green mist; we could not see any strait or ‘‘broken water.” All around us on the surface of the sea lay the signs of the islands: branches, huge leaves washed thin as green lace, sodden logs, clusters of strange fruit.
I had worked hard all morning, and after doling out our water and fruit and blackloaf I slept. Tsorl sat among the remains of our bara straw and stared at the coast of Hindan. I slept on and on into the afternoon, and Tsorl woke me not long before the setting of the Great Sun. I saw that he had made all fast—tied down every food bag. He pointed ahead without a word; all I saw by Hindan’s coast were rainbows, round and curved patches of light, dancing upon the surface of the sea where the Round Current flowed swiftly between the islands.
Broken water! As we came up, more swiftly now, the raft began to rock and heave. We saw the rapids, white as bared teeth, and further on the coast of Steen in the narrow strait—so narrow that it was like a dark tunnel overgrown with vines, filled with roaring foam.
There was enough left of the excellent rope I had stolen from Itsik for us to make two loops upon the deck of the raft, woven into the thick, ancient ropes that tied the logs of the raft together. We squeezed under these loops and lay flat, shouting encouragement above the growing sound of the water. We had no time to be afraid; die broken water seemed to reach out to us greedily, stronger than the Round Current itself. The raft moved crazily, tipping sideways, shuddering from end to end. We were carried with great speed into the boiling strait between the islands.
For a long time I could see nothing but the thick spray; it filled my mouth and nostrils so that I could scarcely breathe; the roaring of the water was everywhere. Trees and thick swags of knotted pine scraped over the raft and threatened to tear us from the deck. This went on and on until I thought it would never stop. When I lifted my head, I had glimpses of the raft being tossed from one side of the channel to the other. It was scraped underneath by the teeth of the rocks and sometimes caught and suspended on a taller crag that lifted out of the rapids. Then die raft would pause and spin slowly, half out of the water, with the pair of us clinging to the deck like sucker fish. Each time the raft came down and was rushed on its way.
At last Tsorl raised his head and cried out; before I could look, the raft caught and hung again, then it was launched into the empty air. The stem tipped up so high that I thought it must turn over and hold us drowning beneath it, but once more it came down with a jolt that made me breathless. I looked back and saw that we had been carried over a plane of rock that made a waterfall. The raft spun around dizzily at the base of this fall and then gently, surely, it was urged forward again by the power of the Round Current. We floated in the inland sea between the islands.
The coast of Hindan rose to our left, and the rocky beaches of Steen were already falling behind on our right Strangest of all, the night had fallen during our ordeal; it was the brief time of Runar, the little darkness. We floated so gently it felt as if we had died and been carried off on the wind, bodiless spirits. Overhead we could see the stars, and all around us on the dark sea there rose the shapes of the islands.
It was cold at first; we lay exhausted and exchanged a few words. Then the natural heat of the center of the globe of Torin stole over our soaking raft and ragged scraps of equipment. I came out of my loop and checked the supplies. The light of the Far Sun rising showed a raft stripped bare; the pen contained hardly a breadfruit rind for a sunner to nibble. The vano, those scavengers of the ocean, had been left far behind. Not a shred of the bara waste remained. Our trusty waterskins, which I had tried to replenish a little when it rained, were still tied in place but one had been pierced by thorns and drained, the other contained a few cups of stale water.
“We must come soon to Tsabeggan,” I said, “or we will be thirsty.”
“Before the Great Sun sets tomorrow,” said the Deputy, “or even earlier. We might have trouble beaching this raft.”
“You are sure which of these islands is Tsabeggan?”
“Of course! Don’t teach your grandmother to weave leaf patterns!”
“That is an old thread! At the New Cut Mine we said: ‘Don’t tell the ancient how to pump bellows.’ ”
Tsorl laughed aloud. We sipped our stale water, and I lay back looking at the starry sky. I thought of my vision of old Elbin Tsatroy, flinging the stars around upon her cloak, and I described it to the Deputy. He laughed again, more gently.
“That is a fine dream, Yolo Harn,” he said, “but the old Elbin looked nothing like that tall and eerie figure.”
“You have seen her? What did she look like?”
“She visited … passed through Trill Fall on her wanderings when I was a child,” he said. “She was every inch the grandee, I remember. A small, neat, birdlike person with black eyes like a hawk. She seldom spoke … this was part of her madness. She whistled to her two old body-servants to make them do her bidding. She had them carry a tapestry bag of offerings for those she met on the way; she would dip into the bag and present something. It was a gamble: a piece of jewelry might come out or a worthless tin cup.”
Tsorl laughed again, sadly, and held up his right arm.
“This arm band came from her indirectly. She gave my father a brass candleholder from her bag and he melted it down and made me this bracelet. I have never taken it from my arm except to insert a new slip of metal as I grew.”
The real picture he gave me of Crazy Elbin was not so striking as my dream, but it haunted me from that time.
I peered ahead at the inner sea and the passing shapes of the islands, gray-green now in the light of the Far Sun, and prayed to the old Fire Mother, saying that we were coming to her villa on Tsabeggan. I did not think too much of the strangers we might find there, but they moved through my dreams that night, blinking their round eyes, which were blue as crystals of copper salt.
When the Great Sun rose, we were in the very midst of the inland sea and making a steady pace back to the west in the Round Current. We looked keenly to the islands for inhabited places, and once we saw a wharf and a clearing, used by spice traders. On two islands far off to the northwest we saw smoke; perhaps these were encampments of Islanders—primitive Moruia—who are told of in legend.
The raft might have been beached easily several times on beaches of sand or pebbles below the vines and tall fever trees. We made out few redwoods or bara trees but any number of the lace leaf vines with leaves wide enough to use as a cloak and the greenwings with their huge, tough leaves like feathers. The fever trees had slippery trunks covered with scales and they glowed in the darkness of the forests with a blue luminescence.
Tsorl looked ahead to the island of Tsabeggan—an island nearly as large as Hindan and standing very tall. Its central mountain was a perfect cone, but surrounded by ridges and lesser mountains. As we came up to it after midday, the Round Current, which had served us so well, began to play tricks. We moved faster and began to curve away from the green headland on Tsabeggan.
I had lost my good redwood pole, but I tore a long plank from the pen in the center of the raft. I tried to row in toward a white sand beach under the headland. Tsorl took a plank and we both rowed hard; we struck the shallow shelf of the bay and scraped our raft toward the land fingerbreadth by fingerbreadth with the current tugging us away. I made a rope fast, plunged into the shallow blue water and dragged the rope up the beach. I hauled with all my might and Tsorl scraped away with his pole, and suddenly, as if the Current had had enough of our foolery, a wave caught the raft and washed it into land.
I pulled, and the raft rode right up onto the sand and nearly landed on top of me. The Deputy flung himself down on the white sand, and we laughed together; then at once we were silent. Tsabeggan was a most beautiful island, far enough to the west to have grass upon it as well as forest and more redwoods among the fever trees. We heard the sound of the sea, the cries of a family of flame birds weaving their ragged nests in a tree on the headland. But even in those first moments we heard something else: a hum, a thump like a heartbeat that reverberated through the whole of the island.
Tsorl put his ear to the ground in one place, then another.
“What does it sound like to you?” he whispered.
“An engine,” I said. “Something a lot bigger than the crusher on the New Cut!”
A long metallic sigh echoed through the trees, and the engine was still.
5
Tsabeggan
Tsorl-U-Tsorl had A wild look as if he would struggle off into the woods that instant in search of the engine, but n fact we were tired and hungry creatures, castaways! vithout shelter, food or drink. I had a small gourd at my belt, and I looked for water. Fifty paces away I found a hin trickle of water coming down the hillside under and over of vines and bushes. Under the leaves—anywhere but n the sun’s light—there were flying insects and creeping things, and I knew that some of them could sting. I filled the gourd and we had drink, with a pinch of Gwell Nu’s sweetening herbs.
I went exploring again at once. I had seen a strange thing not far from the place where the water trickled down. It had nothing to do with engines or devils; it was a flight of narrow stone steps built into the cliff-side, leading to the top of of the headland. I went up ten steps, scaring a at land-sunner.
