Epiphany of the Long Sun (92 page)

He walked forward to the tube and examined it. The canvas was thinner than he had feared, but looked strong and nearly new. His pockets yielded only his new prayer beads and a handkerchief, the only items that his captors had let him retain. He detached an arm of Pas's voided cross and tried to tear the canvas with it, but its sharpest corner slipped impotendy along the surface. Many men, he reminded himself angrily, carried small knives for just such occasions as this-although any such knife would presumably have been taken from him.

Even if he had possessed a knife, there was a sentry at the top of the ladder. If he was able to poke a hole in the canvas and enlarge it enough to climb through, he would almost certainly be captured or killed by that sentry when he emerged from the tube. Saba had no doubt worried that her prisoners might break one of the hatches; but a single pterotrooper there would be able to hold her position until she exhausted her ammunition, and her shots would have brought reinforcements long before then. Saba's prisoners had not escaped through either hatch-not yet. But Saba's logic confined him as though he had been its object.

Shaking his head, he crossed the deck of the gondola to the nearest cable. Woven of many ropes, it was as thick as a young tree, and its surface was rougher than the bark of many. Still more significantly, its angle, here where it was bent through a huge ringbolt, slanted noticeably off the vertical.

Removing his robe, he put it over his shoulder and tied it at his waist. Once he had finished praying and begun to climb, he found it relatively easy; as a boy he had climbed trees and poles far more difficult. The key was to fix his eyes on the surface of the cable, never stealing even a glance at the snowy plain of cloud so achingly far below.

He had boasted of his climbing to Horn, while conceding only that he had climbed less adroitly than a monkey; it was time to make good that boast…

Gib missed the companionship of his trained baboon-what would Bongo think, if Bongo could see him crawling upward with chattering teeth and sweating palms? Could baboons laugh?

The airship was, just possibly, turning ever so slightly to its left. To look down was death, but to look up?

The whir of the engines sounded louder, but of course he was somewhat nearer them. He reminded himself sharply that he had not yet climbed far…

The airship's southward course must necessarily have put its long axis across the great golden bar of the sun. If he looked up-if he risked it, and it was not much risk, surely, he might be able to catch sight of the sun to one side of the vast hull from which the gondola hung…

Momentarily, he halted to rest the aching muscles in his thighs, and glanced upward. Scarcely ten cubits overhead, the cable entered the monstrous belly of the airship proper; beyond the opening, he glimpsed the beam to which it was attached.

"Done try, laddie."

"Tick!" Hyacinth stared, blinking away tears. "Tick, how in the whorl-"

Auk handed him to her. "Came in through the window, didn't you, cully? A dimber cat burglar, ain't you?"

"My see, wears she putty laddie?" Tick explained. "An Gawk sees, hue comb wit may. Den my-add word!"

"Lo, girl." flapping in advance of Silk, Oreb ignored the little catachrest. "Lo, Auk."

Auk swore. Hyacinth dropped Tick (who landed on his feet) and Silk embraced her.

To him, so lost in the ecstasy of her kiss that he scarcely knew that her right leg had twined about his left, or that her loins ground his, Horn's distant shout meant less than nothing.

"
So what?
" Auk inquired from the West Pole. "
Let 'em come
."

After what seemed an eternity of love, something tapped Silk's arm and Hyacinth backed away.

"Caldé Silk!" The harsh voice belonged to a gaunt, hard-faced Trivigaunti officer of forty or more; he blinked, certain that he should recognize her.

"You're Caldé Silk. Let's not waste time in evasions."

"Yes, I am." She had clicked into place in his memory, her hand around a wineglass, her back straight as a slug-gun barrel. "Major Hadale, this is my wife, Hyacinth. Hyacinth, my darling, may I present Major Hadale? She's one of General Saba's most trusted officers. Major Hadale consented to join me for dinner Thelxday, before we were reunited."

Oreb eyed Hadale apprehensively. "Good girl?"

The major herself addressed the lieutenant on her right. "You were in here an hour ago looking for him. Are you saying he wasn't here then?"

"No, sir." The lieutenant's face was set like stone. "He was not. I'm familiar with his appearance, and I examined every prisoner in this gondola. He was not present."

Hadad turned to a trooper with a slug gun. "How long have you been on post?"

Silk began, "If I may-"

"In a moment. How long, Matar?"

The trooper had stiffened to attention. "Almost my whole watch, sir."

Auk spoke into Silk's ear; but if Silk heard him-or anything-he gave no indication of it. "You're going to ask her if anyone left this gondola," he told Hadale. "She'll say no, and then I suppose you'll call her a liar, or the lieutenant will. Can't we-"

"Before we came down here I asked if she'd seen anybody," Hadale interrupted. "She said she did. She saw a Vironese holy man. He went down into this gondola, and he had an order from General Saba that let him. Is that right, Matar?"

"Yes, sir."

Silk fished a folded paper from his pocket. "Here it is. Do you want to see it?"

"No!" Angrily, Hadale took it from him. "I want to keep it. I intend to. Caldé, you were careful to remind me that I've been your guest. You welcomed me and fed me well. That puts me in an uncomfortable position." She glanced at the crowd that had formed around them. "Get out of here! Go to the other end of the gondola, all of you."

Auk smiled and shook his head. Sciathan tugged the sleeve of Silk's robe. "Now you wish it? If not, you must stop it."

"You're right, of course." Silk raised both hands. "Auk! All of you! Go to the other end. You're very brave, and there are only three of them; but there are at least a hundred others on this airship." He took Hyacinth's hand.

"Go 'way!" Oreb seconded him.

Maytera Marble added her voice to theirs, the crisp tones of a teacher bringing her classroom to order. "Hear that bird? He's a night chough, sacred to Tartaros. Trust Tartaros!"

"I
speak for the
gods."
Incus stood on tiptoe, making wide gestures. "We must
obey
the Caldé, whom the
immortal
gods have chosen for all of us."

"Thank you," Silk told the little Flier. "Thank you very much. Moly-thank you. Thank you, Your Eminence."

Hadale exhaled, a weary sigh that recalled Maytera Marble. "And I thank you, Caldé. They wouldn't have succeeded, but there would've been a lot of killing. By Scarring Sphigx, I don't like this! A few days ago, we were drinking toasts."

"I like it less," Silk told her. "I propose that we put an end to it. May I speak with General Saba?"

Hadad shook her head. "Lieutenant, you and Matar go over there and keep an eye on those people. They may try to jump you. Shoot if they do."

Silk watched them go. "I'd imagine you've got a glass on this airship. If you won't let me speak with General Saba, may I use it to speak to your generalissimo?"

"No." Hadad paused to listen. "We just lost an engine."

"The second one," Hyacinth told her. "That was what Auk whispered to my husband, that the first one had stopped. I've been paying attention to them ever since."

"Auk's the man who was talking to my wife and me when you came," Silk explained. "I apologize for not introducing you."

"I should be in the cockpit, they'll be going crazy up there. Caldé, are you doing this?"

"Good man!" Oreb assured Hadale. "Good Silk!"

She gave him a look intended to fry him. "Your bird's an oracle of Tartaros, so if he says you're good that settles it. Don't you know that many of us don't believe in Tartaros, Caldé? We have a faction that teaches that Sphigx is the only true god, and Pas and the rest are just legends. A lot of us believe it."

Silk nodded, looking at the dangling ladder behind her. "I can sympathize with that-no doubt it's nearer the truth than many of our beliefs. May I offer a suggestion, Major?"

"I've got one, too, but let's hear yours. What is it?"

He showed her his hands. "We're unarmed. You may search us if you wish; and we won't attack you-we'll swear to that by Sphigx or any other god you choose. If you were to hand your needler to Hyacinth or me, we wouldn't employ it against you-though of course I'm not asking you to do anything of the kind. That said, I suggest we go to the place from which this airship is commanded. Where the tiller is, or whatever you call it. Is that the cockpit?"

Hadale nodded, her eyes suspicious.

"First, because we'd like to see it-that's a selfish reason, I admit, but we would. Second, because they may need you there, you're clearly anxious to go, and we can talk there as well as anywhere. Third-"

Hadale pointed to the dangling ladder. "That's enough. All right. You two first, and stay in front."

"So," Siyuf began as she sat down in the wooden chair the round-faced stranger pulled out for her, "are we today at war? I hope you are lose, General Mint." Without evident curiosity, her quick, dark eyes surveyed the spartan room, and the snow-splotched drill field and leaden sky beyond its windows.

Oosik nodded as he took his seat. "That was a point we planned to discuss, Generalissimo. Events have overtaken us."

"Trivigaunte declared war on Viron an hour ago," Maytera Mint said briskly. "We feel we owe it to you to explain the situation. Our Caldé thinks you care nothing for the lives of your troops. He's told me so. I'm doing something here that's quite foreign to me, I'm assuming he's wrong. If he isn't, no harm will be done by this meeting. If he is," she smiled, "some good may come of it. Are your troopers' lives precious to you?"

The elevation and decline of Siyuf's epaulets was scarcely visible. "Valuable is certain. Precious we must speak about, I think. Do you know how greatly I have desire to meet you, Mint? Do they tell this? Is Bison to sit in one of these empty chairs? He know of this."

A new voice exclaimed, "So do I! I vouch for her, my dear young general. She's expressed the wish many times.

Siyuf turned to the fat man who had come in. "You I know from a picture. You are Potto of the Ayuntamiento, that would make war on my city. You have win, I think, if we are at war."

Potto sat gingerly, unsure of the strength of his chair. "If only a declaration were all it took!"

"I'm Councillor Newt," the round-faced stranger explained, "the newest member of the Ayuntamiento." He offered his hand.

She accepted it. "I am your prisoner Siyuf."

"Not a badly treated one, I hope."

Potto giggled. "A very well treated one, so far, Cousin. Since you're a councillor now, I've appointed you an honorary cousin. Do you mind?"

Oosik cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should outline the entire situation, Generalissimo."

"We are at war, you say. I believe this. I therefore give my name and rank. These alone, no other fact. Do you desire to exchange me? I will go."

Maytera Mint said, "We do, very much."

"Then I will fight you, after. It is to be regretted, but it is so, You cannot make me answer your questions-"

Potto giggled again.

"No more can I make you to answer mine. I ask anyway. Do you fight me together, Mint? Or do you fight each other also? When I return to my horde, it would be good that I know this."

"Viron's reunited. It's been our Caldé's dearest wish, and I'm delighted to say we've realized it."

Potto rocked with mirth. "Wait till he finds out we're on the same side! I can't wait to see his face."

"He'll be radiant with joy. If you understood him as I do, you'd know it." Maytera Mint spoke to Siyuf, "Let me explain, because all this hinges on your understanding what your troops are up against. We've not only made peace among ourselves, but given the city a new government. There are two main provisions to our agreement. One is that ours is a Charterial government, which means there must be a Caldé and an Ayuntamiento. We agree mutually that Caldé Silk is-"

"My prisoner," Siyuf interrupted.

"Hardly." Oosik leaned forward, his elbows upon the old deal table, his bass voice dominating the room. "He may be a prisoner of your city. We don't know that yet. It is one of the things we need to discuss."

Siyuf looked back to Maytera Marble. "You wish to tell me of the Charter of your city, before this man have interrupt you. I find this of interest."

"I think it's vital. If we're to secure the favor of the gods, we have to govern according to the Charter they gave us. We've been trying from the start. Now we've succeeded."

"I would ask who it is who rule this government, but you say Silk, who is not here. Who is commander here? You?"

Maytera Mint shook her head. "In military affairs, my own superior, Generalissimo Oosik. In civil, Councillor Potto, the Presiding Officer of the Ayuntamiento."

"In this case you are not needed," Siyuf told her, and turned to Newt. "Neither you, I think. Yet both sit at this table where is one chair more. You take our custom that each bring a subordinate? Is that the explanation I require? You for Potto, Mint for Oosik, Violet for me, perhaps? I do not think this I have say."

"I'm breaking in," Newt told her. "I'm the new boy." He sounded anything but humble.

"I'm here," Maytera Mint explained, "because we think you may listen to a woman when you won't really hear a man."

Oosik rumbled, "You've the quickest mind I know. You are present because we are likely to succeed because you are here."

"I'm less apt to kill him, too," Potto confided.

"He's only joking," Newt assured Siyuf.

"Not, I hope. You are a new councillor, you say. Where is it they find you?"

Maytera Mint said, "In the Juzgado. Councillor Newt was a commissioner there, the one who bought supplies for the Caldé's Guard, made out the payroll, and so forth." She paused.