Golden Torc - 2 (35 page)

"Bad news!" Gert sang out.

"Pass 'em!" Felice decided. "Peo, Basil, get that zombie up here. No sense trying to play tricks. Those other boats can't do a thing once we're in the rapids."

The noise of the cascading turbulence made it almost impossible for them to hear one another. When Harry, blue-lipped and feebly snarling, was strapped into place, Felice gave the other men a shove aft. "If we spring a leak, get everybody out of the harnesses and do the best you can."

They passed the anchored boats at a distance of twenty-five meters. Felice forced Harry to wave and worked the airhorn herself, toodly-toot-toot. And then they were into the rapids... Take us through Harry do your job Harry do it and I'll get you another gray torc do you hear me another one just as good as the one we took only do your job Harry steer steer dodge and draw and race through the booming froth and the haystack bulges above the underwater rocks O go Harry good old boy stay off the knifeledge and the monstrous eddy whirling at the bend and the crazy tall waves filling the air with blobs of foam go on Harry go boy go and set her over broadside working the multiple rudders like organ pedals and twirling the wheel virtuoso Harry remember the new torc the old ecstasy just as good as before look out for the sluice and skim her on down Harry braving the violent Rhone all clogged with landslides and rock piles that should hold back the waters but never will come on I'm helping you Harry holding you and see not scared O no kaboom! sheesh all right Harry just a bouncer good recovery God there's a big mother big as a house in the middle of the channel right or left you know which is best Harry Harry Harry O you asshole get us out of this spin you Harry or I'll squeeze you until you Harry get us out Harry stop the spin I'll hurt you Jesus Jesus we're going to hit again Harry Harry you rotten swine I won't let you you can't do it I won't let you you can't I won't let you Die.

Felice screamed. The mind within her grasp went incandescent in a last surge of opposing rage. And then, ever so easily, it slipped away from her and went off along a way she dared not follow. Alone, she returned to the chaos of the riverboat caught in the treacherous white eddy, rotating just downstream from a great craggy mass that parted the Rhone into two thundering streams. The boat spun faster and faster. With every other revolution it whanged against an underwater obstruction, the impact causing the strong inflated hull to vibrate like a beaten drum.

Harry hung in his harness, seeming to wink at her. The vital-signs monitor on his forehead was solid black. Felice worked the quick-release fasteners and let the body fall to the deck. She took the skipper's place, grasped the wheel, tramped the rudder pedals, and sent her PK below the hull to lift.

Ah, so hard so heavy so hard... trying to tear loose from the grip of the spinning water! But I am strong (do you all hear?) and you can make me stronger so do it! Up...up... help me lift it up. All you lives loves you must help you will. Up! UP!... And the two-in-one hears and helps and the many-in-All as well because it is not only for me and the drumbeats stop and the scratching hiss of the muddy gravely water stops and the whirling the rocking the buffeting all countermovement stops.

I lift. We float.

I am able to hold us (thank you) even pull us higher now. Faster and faster until we fly! And the frustrated water writhes underneath and the amazed canyon walls lean over to get a better view of the magic.

Ahead of us the walls fall away. Water jets out in a great round plume, creamy as rich milk. It arches down and down and down, so far into the vapor that clothes the great hidden lake. The terminal gush of the Rhone is swallowed below us without a trace.

We soar! High above the mist-country, we soar safe in sunlight. Our enemies are stifled and blind below and the happiness is so great that I burn-I burn for joy.

Amerie and the Indian Chief come at last into the wheelhouse and warm themselves at my fire. And then they put hands on me to still the shuddering and say, "Take us down, child."

And I descend. Softly.

12

"YOU ARE CERTAIN, MOTHER?" NODONN ASKED.

The Queen replied, "You will see for yourself. The Thagdal finished with her only a short time ago and sent her back to Redact House. Culluket got the truth from her when I farspoke him of what had happened. He is bringing her to the palace again for our scrutiny."

They were in the Queen's morning room. She was still en deshabille, while the Battlemaster, summoned from the arena, wore a light practice cuirass with vambrace and pauldron for his unshielded right arm and shoulder.

"A new human conspiracy!" he mused aloud. "The audacity of the Lowlives almost passes belief. That Guderian woman is at the bottom of it, of course. The human-Firvulag entente, the use of the holy Spear... and now this!"

Nontusvel said, "It was a vengeance-thought that the girl Gwen-minivel let slip, you see, when the Thagdal was filling her full of his grace. The gist of it was, 'You won't be able to do this to human women much longer when we destroy your torc factory and shut the time-gate. We will free all human slaves.'"

"It was fortunate that you were within range and caught her thought."

"It was heavily screened. But I am the Mother of the Host."

"Exactly who is she, that she should have had knowledge of this plot?"

"Alas-a most promising young healer. She was reserved from the customary bidding by Dionket himself. She should have been sent to the King's couch long ago. But for reasons that are not yet clear to me-you will want to investigate this-she was secreted in the catacombs of Redact House by the connivance of Mayvar and the Lord Healer. With your Awful Father in such low spirits over recent melancholy events, I bethought me of this girl as a potential source of comfort. She had stunned the entire company at the bidding banquet with her empathy. I-I confess that I saw in her reminders of my own self as a young maiden, lulling my dolls to sleep and dreaming of the babies I would some day bear... But enough of that. As it is my duty to assure the consolation of our King, I charged your brother Culluket to discover what had become of Minivel. A royal command superseded even Dionket's authority over the girl and she was duly produced. Culluket is much too forthright to deal with the mental preparations that Minivel required-your Awful Father being in the delicate condition he is, we could not risk her putting him down-and so I undertook the coercion and redaction of the young woman myself. I worked with her all yesterday afternoon, and she went to the Thagdal last night as eagerly as a nymph. He never knew that she despised him. And of course your Father never heard Minivel's deep avowal of revenge, since he was distracted by his own passion. I had her sing for him and vouchsafe the most maternal forms of solace in addition to the usual. She was a great success."

"And all unwitting," Nodonn now suggested, "she may become the key to our victory as well."

The door to the suite opened. The King's Interrogator, handsome and stern in a hooded cape of dark burgundy, pushed Sukey in ahead of him and motioned for the escort of garnetarmored guardsmen to remain outside. Culluket saluted Nontusvel and his brother.

"Awful Mother! Brother Battlemaster! I've questioned the woman Gwen-Minivel and laid bare all that she knows." Sukey stood with a resolute face. Her eyes and nose were reddened from weeping and her hair hung in strings. She still wore the diaphanous love-gift robes the Queen's attendants had dressed her in the night before.

Nontusvel and Nodonn studied the intelligence that Culluket's mind displayed to them.

"Child, child," mourned the Queen. "Not only the treason-but a human lover as well! A lowly gray-Stein Oleson, man-at-arms to Aiken Drum. And you have conceived his child!"

"Stein is my husband," Sukey said.

The Interrogator, so like and so unlike his gentle mother, pushed back his hood. "The penalty for that action alone would be death, Gwen-Minivel. Death for you, for your unborn child, and for the father of the misbegotten. You have abased your silver torc and forfeited all claim to Tanu kinship. You are no longer Gwen-Minivel but merely Sue-Gwen Davies, an outlaw human. You and any persons who are accessories to this treason or to the larger infamies you have revealed to me will answer to our justice-no matter how high their station."

Sukey's swollen lips smiled. Her thought was clear: We lose our lives. But you will lose your whole world, even though you continue to live!

"Send her away," said Nodonn. "We must discuss this." As Culluket turned Sukey over to the guards, the Queen said, "Let us go into the atrium where there is more air. I don't feel at all well."

The Second Redactor took his mother's arm, and the three of them went into a little enclosed courtyard that was a bower of autumn roses. The Queen and Culluket sat on the marble coping of the central fountain. Nodonn paced the flags, his armor's facets throwing prismatic refractions into the garden shadows.

"What have you done with the man?" Nontusvel asked.

"There was a row, of course." Culluket's tone was dry. "Stein and Aiken Drum were at the Coercer College, breakfasting with Gomnol, if you please! Naturally the young mountebank and the Lord Coercer claimed to know nothing of Stein's relation with Sukey-which was the ostensible reason given for my taking him into custody. Stein became quite violent, even in spite of his torc. Gomnol had no choice but to subdue him and turn him over to us, however. The truth of our accusation about the woman leaked from Stein's mind as from a sieve. He'll be imprisoned until the Grand Combat and set up in one of the gladiator events. The girl goes into the Great Retort, of course."

"And Aiken Drum?"

Culluket's laugh held admiration in spite of himself. "Now there's a cool one! You need no redaction to know that there must have been collusion between master and man in both treasons. But Drum insisted upon playing the innocent. He demanded that Gomnol and I inspect his mind together, right there on the spot. Without the proper softening process our examination had to be rough and ready-but the little wretch was a match for us. We couldn't discover a particle of treachery hidden anywhere in his mind. No knowledge of Stein and Minivel, no knowledge of any plot against the torc factory or the time-gate."

The Battlemaster stopped his pacing and sat down beside his brother on the edge of the fountain. He stirred the water with one finger. Little simmers of steam rose. "You and Gomnol did the interrogation... together."

The Queen looked from Nodonn to Culluket. "You can't mean-" But Culluket gave a slow nod. "It could very well be. Gomnol is capable of it! I suspected nothing...Rumors of the King's impotence have been circulating among all members of the High Table, and we know our precious Lord Coercer cares for nothing if not the main chance. He has undoubtedly realized that his earlier appraisal of Aiken Drum as a metapsychic nova was mistaken. Furthermore, the disallowing of his genetic scheme featuring Elizabeth and the Thagdal has made necessary a slight revision in his dynastic scenario."

"Oh, the ingrate!" cried the Queen. "Gomnol allied with Aiken Drum! This is what comes of admitting Lowlives to our High Table! We must do something about him at once! Imidol must issue the challenge to Gomnol at this year's manifestation of powers."

"He'd lose," Culluket said flatly.

"What then?" the Queen implored. "Gomnol will throw in his lot with the Lowlife rebels! Isn't it obvious?" Culluket looked puzzled. "But Gomnol wouldn't destroy his own torc factory, his power base. It's counter to the man's entire psychology. Somehow, Aiken Drum has managed to keep this part of the plot from him."

"Then let's tell Gomnol!" cried Nontusvel. "Turn him against that horrid little golden beast!"

"Peace, dearest Mother." Nodonn's sun-bright countenance relaxed the agitated Queen with its warmth. "There are so many things afoot-so many intrigues and plots and counterplots-that they collide with one another and entwine in a tangle that seems to defy unknotting. The northern insurgents with their iron, perhaps with the Spear; the monstrous Felice, murderer of our sister Epone, who now wears stolen gold; the rebel general Guderian and her saboteur cohorts; Aiken Drum, whose loyalties lie Tana-knows-where; the King's schemes; the anthropologist and his survey; and the Lord Coercer-who would manipulate us all! A formidable snarl."

"But not," Culluket insinuated, "beyond your power to unravel, Brother Battlemaster?"

"I," said Nodonn, "have a Sword."

The Queen drew in a sharp breath. "You can't!"

"They are humans. They have outlawed themselves. Aiken Drum poses a peculiar problem because of his great popularity with our citizens. We'll need strong proof of his treason, but he can be dealt with. And so can Gomnol-much more easily, I believe. This entire mess can be turned to our advantage."

"Are you so confident of your own ability?" Culluket asked. "The iron alone is a mortal threat to our survival here. If you should miscalculate, the entire High Kingdom could be thrown into chaos."

Ever serene, the Battlemaster said, "We of the Host have agreed that it is necessary to return to the simpler way. To the old customs that we followed for nearly a thousand years. The superficial glamour of humanity's bastard culture has blinded too many of our people-even the Thagdal himself-and brought us to the brink of ruin. But Tana has been compassionate. It is not too late to turn back. The very conspiracies of these Lowlives show them up clearly as the danger we could only suspect before. Not even the most obtuse of our people will be able to ignore the human peril when I have done with my counteraction... And there is also this."

He held up a pale-green plaque. Culluket exclaimed, "The survey! Congratulations, Brother! May I inspect it?" Ignoring the request, Nodonn said, "The human anthropologist has been unwise enough to deliver an honest evaluation. His survey points to the inevitable ascendency of humans and hybrids in the Many-Colored Land, should we Tanu continue to exploit humans genetically and permit them to occupy positions of power. The King has studied the survey but he still waffles over the implications. He and the other moral weaklings at the High Table may think that the status quo can be maintained simply by destroying all copies of the survey and the computer file of data, and doing away with Bryan Grenfell and Ogmol. But thanks to my darling Rosmar, we have not only a copy of the book-but also the anthropologist himself safely tucked away. Dearest Mother, it is my intention to force the anthropologist to reveal the truth about his own human race at the culmination of the Grand Combat. I will produce him jus! prior to the Heroic Encounters so that the conspirators of the peace faction have no time to prepare opposition. When the peril is made clear, the combined wrath of our entire Tanu battle-company will fall upon those who are traitors to our ancient ideals. Upon Gomnol! Upon Aiken Drum! And upon any of our other kinsmen who have become so depraved as to consider humanity essential to our survival here."