Icerigger

by Alan Dean Foster

  He put both hands on the bed, palms flat against the blankets and furs, and lay down slowly, staring at the bare outline of the ceiling. With a conscious effort he closed his eyes and breathed out, long and low. Then he hunched slowly on his side and fluffed the blanket under his head.

  His last thought before falling asleep was that he hadn't had a nightmare since childhood. He wondered about it, for a second.

  Morning light bit like a mosquito. The volcano did not shine or sparkle in the false alpenglow. If anything, the black volcanic rock absorbed the light. Only at upper elevations did ice and snow work to do eye-pleasing things with the rich light.

  A dark, brooding ziggurat, the mountain gave no hint of the burning core that steamed in its depths. Even the cloud-scudding black smoke was a cold coal.

  There was nothing so palpable as an air of menace about the mountain, but neither was it pleasant to be near. It needed companion mountains, a sibling range around its base, before mere humans could relate to it. Alone, it was as impersonal and alien as a lost moon.

  Ethan leaned on the rail and gazed at the ropy beach. He'd almost have preferred to stay on board, but there was always the thin chance that something interesting might turn up. He only stumbled once as they made their way across the ice and onto the rock. Small cause for pride.

  On the frozen lava the humans had an advantage over their tran companions. The natives had to pick their way carefully on unclad feet over the nastier sections of aa and scoria.

  The two wizards could have gone by themselves. However, someone had to go along to tell the two learned beings when it was time to return to the Slanderscree. Left to themselves, they would wander about the island 'til dark, get lost, and then there'd be a broken leg or twisted ankle and the hard work of carrying them back to the ship in the dark.

  The slopes of the gigantic cone seemed to soar up and up into the opalescent blue until they merged at the artist's vanishing point. You could tell there was a top only because of the black smoke that issued there from somewhere in the clouds.

  Well, they could spend the morning picking around at the rocks in the shelter of the east slope, acquire a few specimens, and return to the ship. The rocks ought to keep Williams and Eer-Meesach occupied and out of trouble until they'd reached Arsudun.

  Ethan didn't expect any surprises — even Williams had enough sense to forgo suggesting an ascent — but he hadn't counted on the cave.

  It was well concealed by rock and low brush as he walked past the entrance. It looked no different from any other section of immolated stone. Only the early morning light shining straight into it gave any hint that it might be larger than the thousands of similar pockets which dotted the lava. He bent and peered inside.

  It was large enough for a tran to walk upright in, so he called the others over.

  “Fascinating,” said the schoolmaster, staring inside. Before anyone could stop him, the teacher had stepped carefully over a chunk of aa and was standing on the smooth floor of the cave.

  “Get out of there, Milliken,” said September. “The business could come down on you any second.”

  “Pish-tosh! This is a structure built by nature, not mere man, Mr. September. Once a tube like this has been formed, it will remain so until a violent upheaval cracks the set rock. My dear Eer-Meesach, you must see this!”

  “What is it?” The tran wizard had knelt slowly and was staring into the hole now.

  Williams' voice floated back from some ways in. “The walls of the tube are lined with a luminescent lichen or fungi of some sort. I can see quite clearly even though I'm well away from the entrance.” There was a pause. “It appears to extend into the mountain for some distance.”

  “Then by all means,” replied Eer-Meesach, scrambling over the lip of the hole, “we must explore further.”

  Hunnar looked resignedly at September. “I'd as soon wait here, Sir Skua. But those two would surely lose themselves at the first pairing of passageways.”

  The big man dug into a coat pocket and pulled out one of the small compasses from the survival supplies.

  “I expect you're right,” he agreed. “Might as well go myself.”

  Hunnar hopped down into the tunnel, followed closely by Budjir and Suaxus. September went next, turned and looked back at Ethan.

  “Coming, young feller-me-lad?”

  He hesitated. The tunnel did not look especially inviting. But they could be watching from the ship. Colette had already confessed a fear of the dark; it was the only thing that seemed to faze her. Naturally he had to go in.

  It was a good thing he had no time to work on the logic of his thinking or he wouldn't have been terribly happy with the resultant picture.

  They walked at a leisurely pace, moving deeper and deeper into the mountain. The walls, ceiling, and floor had been scoured almost slippery smooth. There were places where the ceiling rose to two and three times the height of a tran. And here and there there were vents of green clay. Green clay in volcanic vents. Now, where had he seen that before? He puzzled over it.

  The glowing plant life grew no more luxuriantly as they moved down the tunnel, but it didn't grow dimmer, either. And it supplied enough light to show occasional boulders and rocks that had fallen from the roof (green clay in volcanic vents?). The number was small, Ethan noted gratefully. He moved ahead to listen to the schoolmaster.

  “Lava has gone through this passage fairly recently,” Williams explained, “which accounts for the smooth sides.”

  “Now that's a comforting thought,” grinned Ethan. He thought of the millions of tons of hot magma beneath their feet, whose outlet had once been the tube in which they now trod.

  After an hour's hike Hunnar finally declared a halt. The wizards gave no sign of tiring and the tunnel no signs of ending.

  “Scientific exploration is all very well and good,” the knight said, crouching against the cold gray wall, “but we've brought no provisions with us. I do not believe further exploration of this hole, which could run clear through the mountain, is worth missing the midday meal.”

  This opinion was seconded immediately by September, Ethan, and both squires. Outvoted, the two scholars capitulated gracefully.

  “I, too, confess to being somewhat wearied and hungered,” admitted Eer-Meesach. “And we seem to have learned all that we might. Yet it would be interesting to know if this tube opens near the central vent itself.”

  “I'm cold,” September quipped, “but not that cold.” He sat down across from Hunnar and began flipping pebbles against the far wall.

  Ethan took a few steps forward and prepared to rest also. He squinted hard down the tunnel.

  “Hey ... it does seem to get a little brighter ahead.”

  “Your eyes are tired from straining in this light, lad.” The big man glanced down the tunnel without getting up. “Looks the same to me.”

  “No, really, it does,” Ethan continued. He took another couple of steps forward. “It does.” He started to walk down the tunnel.

  “Don't go too far,” September warned him. “Don't go out of voice range. I don't want you making a wrong turn into some endless maze. If you do, I'm not coming after you, what?”

  “Don't worry, Skua. I'm not going to go far.” The tunnel made a sharp turn to the right, just ahead. That would be far enough.

  He turned and stepped into the chamber.

  It was larger than the tunnel, perhaps three or four times as wide as the passageway and equally as high. There were no more phosphorescent plants here than behind him, but the light was blinding. Blinding, dazzling, overpowering — and green.

  Now he remembered where he'd read of green clay in volcanic vents.

  Ozmidine was mined in only two places in the known universe. One was on a tiny island in the middle of a lake on the thranx world of Drax IV. Drax IV was a hell world, a steaming, sweltering moldy ball of corruption that would drive a man insane if the Po'pione or Turabisi Delphius didn't get him first. The thranx could survive the h
eat and humidity, but the local flora and fauna made no species distinctions when it came to dinner.

  But there was ozmidine there, so they stayed.

  The other lode had been found on Mantis, one of the first worlds settled by humanity after the discovery of the KK-drive. It had been discovered, not by lonely prospector, nor by mining combine, nor by official survey. A driller pushing a new subway tunnel through the heart of downtown Locust had come on the first deposits. Now there was an ugly, dark, smoky hole in the middle of the planet's capital city. But the inhabitants didn't mind. It made them rich.

  On the scale of comparative hardness for minerals, diamond is the hardest at 10. Or rather, it was until ozmidine was found to have a hardness rating of about 14. And the crystals of the raw mineral were of a deep green shading to violet that made the finest emeralds look like soapstone.

  Ozmidine was only found in igneous rocks, in vents of greenish clay.

  Ethan stumbled forward, his eyes adjusting to the light thrown back at him from an endless hall of green hexagonal crystal. Ozmidine hang from the ceiling like stalactites. It grew outward from the walls like decorative swords, filled the floor with spikes and crushed crystals from the ceiling.

  He'd once seen a picture of the Green Nova. The Green Nova was a piece of pure ozmidine from the Drax IV mine. It was as big as a man's fist and had taken thirteen months to cut and facet by the finest stonecutter on Terra, using laser and ozmidine cutting tools. It had no price.

  He stumbled, wincing at the pain in his toe. He'd tripped over a chunk of clear ozmidine the size of a basketball.

  This wasn't wealth — there was no way, no means of comparing this to normal human pursuits. The ownership of whole worlds lay in this tunnel. Power to alter the structure of governments, even enough to shake the Church itself.

  “Hey, young fella!...” came September's voice. “It's time to...”

  Dimly, Ethan recognized the voice of September and the others behind him. But he didn't turn. He knew what they looked like.

  Something shook underfoot. He felt it, ignored it.

  “My dear Eer-Meesach, this is wonderful!” Williams whispered. “Such symmetry of forge, such amazing variety...” He frowned. “Was that a tremor?”

  “EEYAHOO!” bellowed September. He grabbed Ethan and danced in a circle while Ethan hung on for dear life, his feet centimeters off the floor. “Gods and Devils and broken hearts, and broken names, and all the lost promises down the trail of time!” He stopped, let Ethan down. Ethan felt himself to make sure no bones were broken.

  He grinned up at the other. “My sentiments exactly.”

  September bent to pick up a flawless piece of crystal as big as his thumb. He landed on his rump.

  The earth shook.

  Shards of priceless gemstone, any one worth a king's life, pelted Ethan's unprotected face. When the shaking stopped, he felt himself gingerly. He received some very expensive scratches.

  Below, a steady rumbling had begun. There were demons afoot in the mountain.

  Williams was backing toward the tunnel proper, a little of his scientific detachment gone. He watched the walls warily.

  “I ... I do believe it would be best if we returned to the ship. I think something may happen.”

  His words penetrated the green haze surrounding Ethan. He was dimly aware that September was shaking him.

  “Better do what he says, young feller. We can come back tomorrow ... maybe. Time to leave.”

  “Leave...?” Ethan stuttered. “Return...?” He looked up at the big man, blinked. “Leave this ... no, absolutely no!”

  “Now young feller...” began September.

  “No, I won't ... I found it, dammit ... I'm staying ... you go!”

  September chuckled. “All right, lad, have it your way.” He turned and walked past Ethan ... and clipped him neatly on the jaw as he passed. He knelt, scooped up the slumping body, and threw it over his shoulder.

  “Let's go.” He took a last glance over his shoulder, muttered so low no one could rear him, “Shana ... forgive me,” and started out of the tunnel.

  The run back to the raft turned into a nightmare, with groanings and heavings and cyclopean creakings alternating with distant detonations. One was powerful enough to throw them off their feet. It bloodied September's nose. He uttered a few choice curses, hefted Ethan higher on his shoulder, and continued forward at a jog.

  If anything, their emergence from the cavern into clean daylight inspired them to move faster. They were met at the shoreline by Balavere and a party from the ship.

  “All be thanked!” said the old general clasping Hunnar by the shoulders. “We thought the mountain had got you.” Then he noticed the scrapes and bruises and Ethan's unmoving form. “What did happen in there?”

  “I shall tell you later, honored general,” replied Hunnar, “if I still believe in it myself, then.”

  There was an awesome roar behind them and they were nearly thrown again.

  “But if that interesting talk is to take place, we must depart this accursed island now. Quickly!”

  They hurried to the ice. Two of the soldiers carried Ethan between them. They moved much faster on the ice than September could have.

  “Put your men aloft, captain!” Hunnar bellowed as they boarded the raft. But it wasn't needed. Ta-hoding had heard the explosions and was moving over the deck like a frightened k'nith, swearing tearfully that though he lived a thousand years he'd never see this befouled ship fully repaired.

  The ice-anchors were brought in. Wind caught the sails and the Slanderscree moved.

  Drawn by the noise, the du Kanes emerged on deck. Colette looked at the volcano and turned to question September. Then she saw Ethan's unconscious form.

  “What happened to him?” she asked casually — a little too casually, September thought. He squinted down at her as another explosion — they were growing more frequent — drowned out all possibility of communication.

  When it had died slightly, he shouted, “He ... ah ... bumped his head coming out of the tunnel.” He shoved the limp form at her. “Why don't you take care of him?”

  Colette backed away a step. “Me? I'm not a damned nurse. Let Williams or Eer-Meesach look after him.”

  “Oh, just watch him for a minute, hey?”

  She considered, chewing her lower lip. “Oh, all right, give him here.” September bent and passed the dead weight to Colette. She handled it easily and sat down next to the rest with him, studying his face. September grunted appreciatively.

  They'd rounded the last spur of black earth and were leaving the volcano astern. The smoke now billowing from the cone was tinged with crimson and seemed to have grown greatly in volume.

  There was a tremendous ear-shattering explosion, coupled with a moaning, ripping sound. The Skanderscree was lifted off the ice and slammed down a dozen meters on. A few spars cracked. Somehow, the runners held.

  Tran were picking themselves up off the deck, some of them very slowly. One had been thrown from the rigging and was now a grotesque tangle of arms and legs near one hatch.

  “Bedamned!” sputtered September, shaking the wrist he'd fallen on as he pulled himself off the planking. Ethan had come around just in time to get thrown into Colette. He bounced off.

  “Green clay,” he mumbled, then looked confused. “There was something about green clay ... but I've forgotten. What happened to me?”

  “You hit your head coming out of the tunnel,” supplied Colette. She gently but firmly moved him off her legs. “And I don't know anything about any green clay.”

  Ethan rubbed his jaw ... funny place to fall on ... and thought hard. He looked up at her and she was staring down at him strangely.

  “Oh well ... couldn't have been very important,” he said.

  “How would you like to be rich beyond your wildest dreams?”

  “Huh?”

  “Marry me.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss du Kane?”

  “Under the c
ircumstances, you may call me Colette. Well?”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He must still be dazed. “I didn't even think you liked me ... let alone loved me.”

  Those startling green (green?) eyes stared down at him. “Who said anything about love? I'm asking you to marry me! You're reasonably attractive, reasonably intelligent — and kinder than most. The only people who ask me to marry them are money-hunters. I can read the contempt in their eyes. There's no contempt in yours. A little pity, but I'm used to that. Well?”

  Ethan thought. “This is too fast and I'm still dazed. Let me ... let me think it over. What would your father say?”

  She gave him a twisted smile. “Father? Father's been intermittently insane for the past four years.” She stood up and stared down at him from a great height. “Who do you think's been running du Kane Enterprises for the last four years, Ethan Fortune?”

  “Look to the mountain!” yelled a voice. Those who could staggered to the rail.

  A kilometer or so up the side of the volcano, a huge fissure dozens of meters wide had cleft the mountainside like an ax-blow. A broad river of fiery red and yellow spilled from the gaping fissure, overflowing the edges of the break.

  The amber stream gained the ice. Immediately a jet of superheated steam roared skywards, obscuring much of the peak from view.

  “Quite a sight,” said September appreciatively. There was a loud yelp behind him.

  Williams was absolutely terrified. He was flailing and gesturing as though he'd lost control of his arms.

  “Easy, schoolmaster. What's the matter? Spirits?”

  “We've got to put on more sail!” he piped frantically. “Tell the crew to blow into them, if we must! We've got to ... to get away from here!”

  “Why?” September glanced behind them. “We've got a little wind with us now. At this rate we'll be out of sight of the island before dark.”

  “Not ... not good enough!” panted the out-of-breath Williams.

  “Now look, surely we're in no danger from the lava. I'm no geologist, but...”

  “Not the lava. Not the lava!” Williams was pleading. Ta-hoding had walked over and was now an interested listener. So was Hunnar.