Clarion

by William Greenleaf

  She would only worry if she knew the truth, and he couldn't discount the possibility that Parke Sabre would question her about their whereabouts. Trisha was a born innocent—Paul knew that Sabre would see through her if she knew the truth and tried to withhold it.

  But if he was oversensitive to the relationship he shared with Trisha, it was because he was so careful to avoid the mistakes his parents had made. His father came from a wealthy family and had squandered away every udit during a lifetime of waste. His mother was practical and ambitious, and the result of their conflicting personalities was constant bickering. Both of them had eventually sunk into the oblivion existence of drugs.

  Two wasted lives, and Paul was aware that he had been traveling down the same road when he met Doriand. Becoming Dorland's business manager had been the first major step toward getting Paul's own life straightened out. Then he'd met Trisha, and the rest had fallen into place.

  Paul heard a sound and turned his head to find Selmer Ogram standing beside him.

  "Sabastian wouldn't ask him to do it if he didn't have to."

  Paul turned back to face the city.

  "He's up against a wall," Selmer went on. "He knows he has to do something. High Elder Brill and Elder Jacowicz have to be stopped."

  Paul kept thinking about what Doriand had said when he had at last looked at Sabastian and agreed to go into the temple. Paul had tried desperately to talk him out of it, but Doriand had already made up his mind.

  I've always known I would go into the sacred chamber and speak to Lord Tern. The certainty in Dorland's voice sent a new chill down Paul's spine now as he remembered the words.

  "Who's Jacowicz?" Paul asked.

  "He's the elder in charge of obedience. Brill's right-hand man, and maybe even more dangerous. He's the one who set up the Sons of God." Selmer lowered himself carefully to another benchlike outcropping of rock. "Jacowicz is determined to get each of us on his God Wall."

  78 William Greenleaf

  "You need help," Paul said. "That's obvious. But you should ask UNSA for it. I don't see how you can expect Dorland to go into that temple alone."

  "We've got it all worked out. There shouldn't be any problem—"

  "Is that what you thought when Cleve Quinton went in?" Paul asked. "If Dorland has to fight for his life, he won't have a chance. Dorland hates violence. Sabastian should know that."

  "He does," Selmer said. "After all, Dorland's his nephew. If everything goes as planned, there won't be any violence."

  "If everything goes as planned," Paul said bitterly. "All you're betting is Dorland's life."

  "We're betting all our lives." Selmer held out a pair of binoculars. "Here, you can see better with these."

  "I can see all I want to."

  "I'd like to show you something." Paul grudgingly accepted the binoculars and looked through them at the city. Light slanted across the valley from the setting sun. Although most of the ruins were hidden by vegetation, he could see that the patches of pale pink were the remains of domed structures. Some were still nearly whole, thrusting up through the vegetation like the top halves of pink skulls. He lifted the binoculars and focused them on the village of Fairhope—a rambling collection of small, square buildings and narrow roads, canopied by a blue haze of woodsmoke. The river snaked along one side of it. Small figures moved around. Narrow roads led between the fields toward Chalcharuzzi. He found the zoom control and expanded the

  image of one of the buildings. A cabin, he realized, made of cut logs. A thin spiral of smoke rose from the chimney.

  "On the far right you can see the temple," Selmer said. "That's the building with the white spire."

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  Paul searched until he found it: a squat, reddishbrown building dominated by a single white spire that curved up fifty meters or more to catch the last rays of the sun. A few smaller buildings were scattered behind it. A wall surrounded the entire complex.

  "Look there in the back, where the wall has been built up higher."

  Paul found the place Selmer was talking about. The wall was uniformly low around most of the temple complex, certainly no higher than a man's shoulders. But on the far side was a section that was raised above the rest. The heightened section ran only ten meters or so, and from what Paul could see there was no structural reason for it. He adjusted the focus control of the glasses. There was something on the raised section of wall. A dark smudge . . .

  Then the smudge jumped into focus, and Paul's blood ran cold. Three bodies hung side by side on the wall, several feet above the ground. Their arms were outstretched as if their wrists had been fastened to the wall, and their feet were bound together. Their heads lolled.

  "That's the God Wall," Ogram said. Paul couldn't take his eyes from the limp bodies. He saw no movement. "Are they dead?"

  "Probably. Karyn said they were strung up three days ago. That means three days without food or water, with Jacowicz coming out from time to time to question them." Ogram placed a slight, bitter emphasis on the word question. "I'm sure they're dead by now."

  "Who were they?"

  "We don't know. They were probably found guilty of being heretics. Translated, that means they were accused of helping us."

  "Were they?"

  "No. We have a lot of friends in Fairhope. Some William Greenleaf

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  of us even have family there. But we don't let them give us any help. Too dangerous for them."

  "Why would Brill put them on the wall?"

  "To make a point. He must have found out I followed Deacon Bekman when he went after

  Dorland. High Elder Brill didn't like that, so he did this to make sure we understand."

  Paul lowered the binoculars and stared at Selmer incredulously. "He would do that to people who aren't even connected with your group . . . just to make a point?"

  Selmer nodded. "This isn't the first time. He wants to pressure us into turning ourselves in." Paul lifted the binoculars again and saw something along the bottom of the wall that he at first took to be light-colored vegetation. He focused the binoculars and realized they were piles of bones that had fallen from the wall and collected on the ground. He shuddered and turned the binoculars back to the temple. The area around it had been cleared of rubble and vegetation, and landscaped with a flat lawn, graceful trees and clumps of flowering shrubs. That alone made the temple grounds stand out, but even more conspicuous was the white spire. Selmer shrugged when Paul asked him about it.

  "It's original. The Tal Tahir used the spire in a lot of their architecture."

  "A symbol?"

  Selmer shrugged again. "I don't know. I've heard that the Holy Order had the others torn down a long time ago. They left that one as a landmark for their Godsday services."

  The smaller buildings clustered behind the temple were of obviously human design. Compared with the primitive look of Fairhope and the crumbled ruins around it, the temple complex had a sound, well-maintained look. Walkways connected the buildings to the temple and to one another.

  CLARION 81

  "The deacons live down there?" Paul asked.

  "Yeah. High Elder Brill lives in that first building just behind the temple. Hit the zoom—you may be lucky enough to see him on the porch. He likes to sit out there and lord over his flock." Paul touched the control and the image expanded until he could clearly see the building Selmer meant. It was sturdy, made of sawed planks, from the look of it. In the front was a wide, covered porch bordered by hedges and flower beds. A paved walkway led up to it. A white-robed sentry stood on each side of the set of dark-stained doors. As Paul watched, a man emerged from the door and stopped to speak to one of the sentries. He, too, wore a white robe, but this one was trimmed in scarlet. Paul described the man.

  "That's Elder Jacowicz," Selmer said. "He spends a lot of time with the High Elder." Jacowicz was scarecrow-thin. His eyes were lost in the shadow cast by the porch's roof, but the rest of his face was clear—long, thin nose, high cheekbones, str
aight slash of a mouth. He stepped down from the porch, then made his way slowly along the walkway to another building farther back. After he had gone inside, Paul turned the binoculars to the temple again. Beyond it was a large area where the vegetation was thinner, and Paul could see more of the domed structures. He studied several of them. The Tal Tahir obviously hadn't gone in for elaborate architecture. What he could see of the city was boringly monotonous. Then he realized he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before. He took the binoculars away for an overall view.

  "It's laid out in a pattern," he said.

  "What?" Selmer's thoughts had been elsewhere.

  "Oh—you mean the circles."

  The basis for the city's design seemed to be the tubeways. Many had fallen, but enough remained 82 William Greenleaf

  for Paul to see that they had been laid out in straight lines to form a grid across the city. He counted seven tubes running in each direction, spaced about two kilometers apart. Each square formed by the intersecting tubes was divided into quarter sections. A circular pattern of domed structures occupied each quadrant, and in the center of each circle was a large space given over to vegetation. Presumably, the domed structures had been the primary dwelling buildings of the Tal Tahir. By moving the binoculars across the areas that were relatively free of vegetation, Paul made a rough count of about a hundred domes in each outer circle, and that many more in the two inner circles. He calculated the rest in his head: say two hundred domes per quadrant, making eight hundred in a square, times thirty-six squares came to ... close to twenty-nine thousand domes in the city. A lot more than he would have guessed.

  "Do you know how many of the Tal Tahir lived down there?"

  Selmer pursed his lips. "About two hundred thousand, I think. Karyn says that's what the Vanguard archaeologists came up with." Paul made another rough calculation. If the arkies were right, that meant each dome housed about seven individuals. Big families.

  Then Paul moved the binoculars over the temple again and realized something else. The temple was situated in the center of one of the quadrants. "Are you sure the temple was a Tal Tahir building?"

  "That's what Karyn says."

  Paul looked more closely at the adjoining

  squares. None of the other clusters had a building with the white spire. That seemed odd: the Tal Tahir had obviously placed a lot of emphasis on symmetry when they built their city. Why would only one of the quadrant sections have a building

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  83

  like the temple? Then he remembered something Selmer had said earlier.

  "There used to be other buildings with the white spires?"

  "A long time ago. Before Sabastian was bom. Karyn says the Holy Order tore them down."

  "Any idea why?"

  Selmer shrugged. "I've never given it much thought. Why all the interest? It's just an old city. Hardly anything left."

  "This is the first nonhuman city I've ever seen."

  "Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised. "I had the impression you've traveled all over." Paul realized Selmer would have no way of

  knowing how rare were signs of intelligents. When he explained that, Selmer shrugged.

  "Guess we're just used to it." A thin black insect with broad wings circled Selmer's head once and settled in his hair. He pulled it out carefully and released it, then reached into a pocket of his coveralls and brought out a small flask. He offered it to Paul. Paul hesitated. The container was clear, and the liquid was dark. He sniffed tentatively, then tipped the flask and let the warm, fumy liquor run into his mouth. He swallowed, grimaced, swallowed again. The flavor was faintly familiar. He handed the flask back to Selmer. "What is it?"

  "Home brew," Selmer answered with a grin.

  "Can't you guess what's in it?"

  Paul thought about that faintly familiar flavor. Then he groaned. "Poca."

  Selmer laughed. "And a few other things. It isn't too strong, but it dulls the pain. Sabastian puts up with it as long as we don't overdo it. Of course, drinking spirits is a capital offense as far as the Holy Order is concerned."

  They both took another drink; then Selmer put the flask away. They sat for a while listening to the varied sounds of insects all around them.

  84 William Greenleaf

  A rebel camp, Paul thought. There was a certain dramatic ring to it: Five Brave Souls Against an Alien God and his Human Servants.

  Five brave souls . . .

  "Why is Karyn here?" he asked. "She's too young to be involved in something like this."

  "Her brother was initiated into the Sons a couple of years ago," Selmer answered. "He was killed a few months later by one of the deacons when he broke a rule. She came to us and said she wanted to do whatever she could to help."

  "He was killed for breaking a rule?"

  "That's part of being in the Sons of God," Selmer said. "Obedience, and Elder Jacowicz wields a heavy hand."

  Chapter Eight

  THEY SPENT THE NIGHT FAR BACK IN THE CAVE.

  Paul slept fitfully on a mat of blankets, with another one o.ver him.

  The next morning was clear and cold. They made their plans for the trip to the temple over a breakfast of baked poca and several other unmemorable vegetables. Karyn seemed to be the informal leader when it came to strategy, and it was clear that she was most familiar with the Tal Tahir city. Sabastian spoke little, offering only a suggestion now and then. He and Olaf Blackburn would remain at the camp.

  Jacque Hakim selected and checked over the

  handmade knives and the single burp gun they would take. Paul reluctantly strapped a sheathed knife around his waist, fervently hoping he would never face the prospect of using it. Dorland refused to carry a weapon.

  Karyn impressed on them that timing was important. They would have to reach the temple after nightfall in order to get Dorland inside under cover of darkness, so they wouldn't leave the camp 86 William Greenleuf

  until late afternoon.

  In order to keep in touch with Sabastian

  and Olaf, Karyn carried a small device called a fartalker in her belt pouch. Curious, Paul had asked to see the palm-sized box before they left the camp, and found that it was an ancient but recognizable version of an intraship communicator. According to Selmer, several hundred of the devices had been salvaged from Vanguard. Energy charges had diminished to the point that the fartalker range was only about seven kilometers, but that would be enough to stretch the distance between the temple and the mountain camp.

  The air was still crisp when they left. They all wore dark coveralls, and jackets made of heavy, durable cloth. The going was rough as they made their way down the slope with Karyn and Jacque leading. Doriand and Paul followed, and Selmer Ogram brought up the rear. Several times they had to clamber over outcroppings of splintered rock. Paul noticed that Karyn always kept her eyes on the area ahead, and paused several times to survey the slope below them.

  "What's she looking for?" Paul asked Selmer at one such halt.

  "Deacons," Selmer answered. "Or Sons of God. She doesn't want to cross paths with them."

  "I thought you said they aren't allowed up this way."

  "They aren't. But I also said Lord Tern changes the rules from time to time."

  They continued down the slope toward the valley in the face of a chill wind. At last the ground leveled and the rocks gave way to spongy soil and waisthigh plants with flat leaves that were blue and shiny. The area was still heavily wooded, but the trees were not,as tall or as thickly foliaged as those of the higher slopes.

  CLARION 87

  They paused again at the edge of the forest. Fifty meters away a large, silver-gray tube crossed high above the vegetation. Under it Paul could see the crumbled remains of pink domes.

  "That's Number One tube," Karyn said. "We'll turn left and follow it."

  "I thought we'd be traveling inside the tube," Paul said.

  "We have to find an access point. First one we'll come to is at the intersection
with David's Tube." Paul drew a blank on that. "David's Tube?" But she had already turned away to look in the direction they would travel.

  "That's Tube D," Selmer explained. He pointed off to the right. "It's part of our system. We start in the corner closest to our camp. Tube One is the first tube that runs right to the left along the edge of the city. The next one is Tube Two, and so on. Tube A is the first tube that runs the other way, straight out across to the far side of the city. That's Alyx. Then Tube B—Barth—and so on."

  Paul could see how the ordering of the tubes could make sense. But one aspect of the system puzzled him. "Why give names to them?"

  "Our power cells are old and weak," Selmer explained. "We get a lot of static over the fartalker. Names are easier to understand than letters."

  "Will the David tube take us to the temple?" Paul tried to remember the layout he had seen from the slope the day before.

  "Not quite." Selmer squatted down and brushed away some leaves, then began to draw a diagram with his finger in the soft ground. "The temple's farther east, over here by Cassie's Tube." He made a depression in the dirt. "But Cassie has fallen down between here and the temple." He rubbed out part of the line he'd drawn to represent the C

  tube. "We can take David to Tube Four—that's the closest exit. But a big section of Tube Four has 88 William Greenleaf CLARION 89

  fallen down, too, so we'll have to travel on foot from there."

  "Let's go," Karyn called back to them. They picked their way through the vegetation and crumbled remains of domed structures, following a course that was parallel to Tube One. The tube was about five meters off the ground, held up by slender pylons that seemed to be spaced too far apart to give enough support. Signs of deterioration were visible on the outer surface of the curved wall—dark splotches here and there and a few ripples where the metal had begun to sag. If Selmer was right about the age of the ruins, the tube had hung here above the ground for at least fifty thousand years. Paul gave the Tal Tahir engineers a mental nod for that. The domed structures had not fared as well; most of them in this area had collapsed, and thousands of years of exposure to the elements had caused the pinkish construction material to crumble into small pebbles that crunched underfoot. Here and there a section of curved wall had held together and jutted up through the vegetation.