A Fire Upon the Deep

by Vernor Vinge

  Note 1226

  Tines’ world filled the entire aft and side windows now, its limb a barely curving horizon. Sky colors stood before them, fading to the black of space. Icecap and icebergs showed detail within detail against the sea. She could see cloud shadows. She followed the coast southwards, islands and peninsulas so closely fit that she could not be sure of one from the other. Blackish mountains and black-striped glaciers. Green and brown valleys. She tried to remember the geography they had learned from Jefri. Hidden Island? But there were so many islands.

  “I have radio contact from planet’s surface,” came the ship’s voice. Simultaneously a blinking arrow pointed at a spot just in from the coast. “Do you want the audio in real time?”

  “Yes. Yes!” said Ravna, then punched at her keyboard when the ship did not respond immediately.

  Note 1227

  “Hei, Ravna. Oh, Ravna!” The little boy’s voice bounced excitement around the deck. He sounded just as she had imagined.

  Note 1228

  Ravna keyed in a request for two-way. They were less than five thousand klicks from Jefri now, even if they were sweeping by at seventy kilometers per second. Plenty close enough for a radio conversation. “Hei, Jefri!” she said. “We’re here at last, but we need—”we need all the cooperation your four-legged friends can give us. How to say that quickly and effectively?

  But the boy on the ground already had an agenda: “— need help now, Ravna! The Woodcarvers are attacking now.”

  There was a thumping, as if the transmitter was bouncing around. Another voice spoke, high-pitched and weirdly inarticulate. “This Steel, Ravna. Jefri right. Woodcarver—” the almost human voice dissolved into a hissing gobble. After a moment she heard Jefri’s voice: “‘Ambush’, the word is ‘ambush’.”

  “Yes … Woodcarver has done big, big ambush. They all around now. We die in hours if you not help.”

  * * *

  Woodcarver had never wanted to be a warrior. But ruling for half a thousand years requires a range of skills, and she had learned about making war. Some of that — such as trusting to staff — she had temporarily un learned these last few days. There had indeed been an ambush on Margrum Climb, but not the one that Lord Steel had planned.

  Note 1229

  She looked across the tented field at Vendacious. That pack was half-hidden by noise baffles, but she could see he wasn’t so jaunty as before. Being put to the question will loosen anyone’s control. Vendacious knew his survival now depended on her keeping a promise. Yet … it was awful to think that Vendacious would live after he had killed and betrayed so many. She realized that two of herself were keening rage, lips curled back from clenched teeth. Her puppies huddled back from threats unseen. The tented area stank of sweat and the mindnoise of too many people in too small a space. It took a real effort of will to calm herself. She licked the puppies, and daydreamed peaceful thoughts for a moment.

  Note 1230

  Yes, she would keep her promises to Vendacious. And maybe it

  Note 1231

  would be worth the price. Vendacious had only speculations about Steel’s inner secrets, but he had learned far more about Steel’s tactical situation than the other side could have guessed. Vendacious had known just where the Flenserists were hiding and in what numbers. Steel’s folk had been overconfident about their super guns and their secret traitor. When Woodcarver’s troops surprised them, victory had been easy — and now the Queen had some of these marvelous guns.

  Note 1232

  From behind the hills, those cannons were still pounding away, eating through the stocks of ammunition the captured gunners had revealed. Vendacious the traitor had cost her much, but Vendacious the prisoner might yet bring her victory.

  “Woodcarver?” It was Scrupilo. She waved him closer. Her chief gunner edged out of the sun, sat down an intimate twenty-five feet away. Battle conditions had blown away all notions of decorum.

  Scrupilo’s mind noise was an anxious jumble. He looked by parts exhausted and exhilerated and discouraged. “It’s safe to advance up the castle hill, Your Majesty,” he said. “Answering fire is almost extinguished. Parts of the castle walls have been breached. There is an end to castles here, My Queen. Even our own poor cannons would make it so.”

  She bobbed agreement. Scrupilo spent most of his time with Dataset in learning to make— cannons in particular. Woodcarver spent her time learning what those inventions ultimately created. By now she knew far more than even Johanna about the social effects of weapons, from the most primitive to ones so strange that they seemed not weapons at all. A thousand million times, castle technologies had fallen to things like cannon; why should her world be different?

  “We’ll move up then—”

  From beyond the shade of the tent there was a faint whistle, a rare, incoming round. She folded the puppies within herself, and paused a moment. Twenty yards away, Vendacious shrank down in a great cower. But when it came, the explosion was a muffled thump above them on the hill. It might even have been one of our own.“Now our troops must take advantage of the destruction. I want Steel to know that the old games of ransom and torture will only win him worse.”We’ll most likely win the starship and the child. The question was, would either be alive when they got them? She hoped Johanna would never know the threats and the risks she planned for the next few hours.

  “Yes, Majesty.” But Scrupilo made no move to depart, and suddenly seemed more bedraggled and worried than ever. “Woodcarver, I fear …”

  “What? We have the tide. We must rush to sail on it.”

  Note 1233

  “Yes, Majesty…. But while we move forward, there are serious dangers coming up on our flanks and rear. The enemy’s far scouts and the fires.”

  Note 1234

  Scrupilo was right. The Flenserists who operated behind her lines were deadly. There weren’t many of them; the enemy troops at Margrum Climb had been mostly killed or dispersed. The few that ate at Woodcarver’s flanks were equipped with ordinary crossbows and axes … but they were extraordinarily well-coordinated. And their tactics were brilliant; she saw the snouts and tines of Flenser himself in that brilliance. Somehow her evil child lived. Like a plague of years past, he was slipping back upon the world. Given time, those guerrilla packs would seriously hurt Woodcarver’s ability to supply her forces. Given time. Two of her stood and looked Scrupilo in the eyes, emphasizing the point: “All the more reason to move now, my friend. We are the ones far from home. We are the ones with limited numbers and food. If we don’t win soon, then we will be cut up a bit at a time.”Flensed.

  Note 1235

  Scrupilo stood up, nodding submission. “That’s what Peregrine says, too. And Johanna wants to chase right through the castle walls…. But there’s something else, Your Majesty. Even if we must lunge all forward: I worked for a ten of tendays, using every clue I could understand from Dataset, to make our cannon. Majesty, I know how hard it is to do such. Yet the guns we captured on Margrum have three times the range and one quarter the weight. How could they do it?” There were chords of anger and humiliation in his voice. “The traitor,” Scrupilo jerked a snout in the direction of Vendacious, “thinks they may have Johanna’s brother, but Johanna says they have nothing like Dataset. Majesty, Steel has some advantage we don’t yet know.”

  * * *

  Note 1236

  Even the executions were not helping. Day by day, Steel felt his rage growing. Alone on the parapet, he whipped back and forth upon himself, barely conscious of anything but his anger. Not since he had been under Flenser’s knife had the anger been such a radiant thing. Get back control, before he cuts you more, the voice of some early Steel seemed to say.

  He hung on the thought, pulled himself together. He stared down at bloody drool and tasted ashes. Three of his shoulders were streaked with tooth cuts — he’d been hurting himself, another habit Flenser had cured him of long ago. Hurt outwards, never toward yourself. Steel licked mechanically at the gashes and
walked closer to the parapet’s edge:

  Note 1237

  At the horizon, gray-black haze obscured the sea and the islands. The last few days, the summer winds coming off the inland had been a hot breath, tasting of smoke. Now the winds were like fire themselves, whipping past the castle, carrying ash and smoke. All last dayaround the far side of Bitter Gorge had been a haze of fire. Today he could see the hillsides: they were black and brown, crowned with smoke that swept toward the sea’s horizon. There were often brush and forest fires in the High Summer. But this year, as if nature was a godly pack of war, the fires had been everywhere. The wretched guns had done it. And this year, he couldn’t retreat to the cool of Hidden Island and let the coastlings suffer.

  Steel ignored his smarting shoulders and paced the stones more thoughtfully, almost analytical for a change. The creature Vendacious had not stayed bought; he had turned traitor to his treason. Steel had anticipated that Vendacious might be discovered; he had other spies who should have reported such a thing. But there had been no sign … until the disaster at Margrum Climb. Now the twist of Vendacious’s knife had turned all his plans on their heads. Woodcarver would be here very soon, and not as a victim.

  Note 1238

  Who would have guessed that he would really need the Spacers to rescue him from Woodcarver? He had worked so hard to confront the Southerners before Ravna arrived. But now he did need that help from the sky — and it was more than five hours away. Steel almost slipped back into rage state at the thought. In the end, would all the cozening of Amdijefri be for nothing? Oh, when this is over, how much will I enjoy killing those two. More than any of the others, they deserved death. They had caused so much inconvenience. They had consistently required his kindliest behavior, as though they ruled him. They had showered him with more insolence than ten thousand normal subjects.

  Note 1239

  From the castle yard there was the sound of laboring packs, straining winches, the screech and groan of rock being moved about. The professional core of Flenser’s Empire survived. Given a few more hours, the breaches in the walls would be repaired and new guns would be brought in from the north. And the grand scheme can still succeed. As long as I am together, no matter what else is lost, it can succeed.

  Almost lost in the racket, he heard the click of claws on the inward steps. Steel drew back, turned all heads toward the sound. Shreck? But Shreck would have announced himself first. Then he relaxed; there was only one set of claw sounds. It was a singleton coming up the stairs.

  Flenser’s member cleared the steps, and bowed to Steel, an incomplete gesture without other members to mirror it. The member’s radio cloak shone clean and dark. The army was in awe of those cloaks, and of the singletons and duos who seemed smarter than the brightest pack. Even Steel’s lieutenants who understood what the cloaks really were — even Shreck — were cautious and tentative around them. And now Steel needed the Flenser Fragment more than anyone, more than anything except Starfolk gullibility. “What news?”

  “Leave to sit?” Was the sardonic Flenser smile behind that request?

  “Granted,” snapped Steel.

  Note 1240

  The singleton eased itself onto the stones, a parody of an insolent pack. But Steel saw when the other winced; the Fragment had been dispersed across the Domain for almost twenty days now. Except for brief periods, he had been wrapped in the radio cloaks that whole time. Dark and golden torture. Steel had seen this member without its cloak, when it was bathed. Its pelt was rubbed raw at shoulder and haunch, where the weight of the radio was greatest. Bleeding sores had opened at the center of the bald spots. Alone without its cloak, the mindless singleton had blabbered its pain. Steel enjoyed those sessions, even if this one was not especially verbal. It was almost as if he, Steel, were now the One who Teaches with a Knife, and Flenser were his pupil.

  The singleton was silent for a moment. Steel could hear its ill-concealed panting. “The last dayaround has gone well, My Lord.”

  Note 1241

  “Not here! We’ve lost almost all our cannon. We’re trapped inside these walls.” And the starfolk may arrive too late.

  Note 1242

  “I mean out there.” The singleton poked its nose toward the open spaces beyond the parapet. “Your scouts are well-trained, My Lord, and have some bright commanders. Right now, I am spread round Woodcarvers rear and flanks.” The singleton made its part of a laughing gesture. “‘Rear and flanks’. Funny. To me Woodcarver’s entire army is like a single enemy pack. Our Attack Infantries are like tines on my own paws. We are cutting the Queen deep, My Lord. I set the fire in Bitter Gorge. Only I could see exactly where it was spreading, exactly how to kill with it. In another four dayarounds there will be nothing left of the Queen’s supplies. She will be ours.”

  “Too long, if we’re dead this afternoon.”

  Note 1243

  “Yes.” The singleton cocked its head at Steel. He’s laughing at me. Just like all those times under Flenser’s knife when a problem would be posed and death was the penalty for failure. “But Ravna and company should be back here in five hours, no?” Steel nodded. “Well, I guarantee you that will be hours ahead of Woodcarver’s main assault. You have Amdijefri’s confidence. It seems you need only advance and compress your previous schedule. If Ravna is sufficiently desperate—”

  Note 1244

  “The starfolk are desperate. I know that.” Ravna might mask her precise motives, but her desperation was clear. “And if you can slow Woodcarver—” Steel settled all of himself down to concentrate on the scheming at hand. He was half-conscious of his fears retreating. Planning was always a comfort. “The problem is that we have to do two things now, and perfectly coordinated. Before, it was simply a matter to feign a siege and trick the starship into landing in the castle’s Jaws.” He turned a head in the direction of the courtyard. The stone dome over the landed starship had been in place since midspring. It showed some artillery damage now, the marble facing chipped away, but hadn’t taken direct hits. Beside it lay the field of the Jaws: large enough to accept the rescue ship, but surrounded by pillars of stone, the teeth of the Jaws. With the proper use of gunpowder, the teeth would fall on the rescuers. That would be a last resort, if they didn’t kill and capture the humans as they came out to meet dear Jefri. That scheme had been lovingly honed over many tendays, aided by Amdijefri’s admissions about human psychology and his knowledge of how starships normally land. But now: “— now we really need their help. What I ask them must do double duty, to fool them and to destroy Woodcarver.”

  “Hard to do all at once,” agreed the Cloak. “Why not play it in two steps, the first more or less undeceitful: Have them destroy Woodcarver, then worry about taking them over?”

  Steel clicked a tine thoughtfully on stone. “Yes. Trouble is, if they see too much…. They can’t possibly be as naive as Jefri. He says that humankind has a history that includes castles and warfare. If they fly around too much, they’ll see things that Jefri never saw, or never understood…. Maybe I could get them to land inside the castle and mount weapons on the walls. We’ll have them hostage the moment that they stand between our Jaws. Damn. That would take some clever work with Amdijefri.” The bliss of abstract planning foundered for a moment on rage. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to deal with those two.”

  Note 1245

  “They’re both wholly puppies, for Pack’s sake.” The Fragment paused a second. “Of course, Amdiranifani may have more raw intelligence than any pack I’ve ever seen. You think he may even be smart enough to see past his childishness,” he used the Samnorsk word, “and see the deception?”

  Note 1246

  “No, not that. I have their necks in my jaws, and they still don’t see it. You’re right, Tyrathect; they do love me.”And how I hate them for it.“When I’m around him, the mantis thing is all over me, close enough to cut my throat or poke out my eyes, but hugging and petting. And expecting me to love him back. Yes, they believe everythin
g I say, but the price is accepting unending insolence.”

  Note 1247

  “Be cool, dear student. The heart of manipulation is to empathize without being touched.” The Fragment stopped, as always, just short of the brink. Steel felt himself hissing at the words even before he was consciously aware of his reaction.

  Note 1248

  “Don’t … lecture … me! You are not Flenser. You are a fragment. Shit! You are a fragment of a fragment now. A word and you will be cut up, dead in a thousand pieces.” He tried to suppress the trembling that spread through his members. Why haven’t I killed him before now? I hate Flenser more than anything in the world, and it would be so easy. Yet the fragment was always so indispensable, somehow the only thing between Steel and failure. And he was under Steel’s control.

  Note 1249

  And the singleton was doing a very good terrified cower. “Sit up, you! Give me your counsel and not your lectures, and you will live…. Whatever the reason, it’s impossible for me to carry on the charade with these puppies. Perhaps for a few minutes at a time I can do it, or if there are other packs to keep them away from me, but none of this unending loving. Another hour of that and I-I know I’ll start killing them. So. I want you to talk with Amdijefri. Explain the ‘situation’. Explain—”

  “But—” The singleton was looking at him in astonishment.

  “I’ll be watching; I’m not giving up those two to your possession. Just handle the close diplomacy.”

  Note 1250

  The Fragment drooped, the pain in its shoulders undisguised. “If that is your wish, My Lord.”

  Note 1251

  Steel showed all his teeth. “It is indeed. Just remember, I’ll be present for everything important, especially direct radio communication.” He waved the singleton off the parapet. “Now go and cuddle up to the children; learn something of self-control yourself.”

  After the Cloak was gone, he called Shreck up to the parapet. The next few hours were spent in touring the defenses and planning with his staff. Steel was very surprised how much clearing up the puppy problem improved his quality of mind. His advisors seemed to pick up on it, relaxed to the point of offering substantive suggestions. Where the breaches in the walls could not be repaired, they would build deadfalls. The cannon from the northern shops would arrive before the end of the dayaround, and one of Shreck’s people had worked out an alternate plan for food and water resupply. Reports from the far scouts showed steady progress, a withering of the enemy’s rear; they would lose most of their ammunition before they reached Starship Hill. Even now there was scarcely any shot falling on the hill.