But his confidence seemed quite justified. Aside from some haggling over the worth of the Bride's cargo, there was no apparent animosity between, the crews. The pirates were as villainous a crew of unhung ruffians as Hiero had ever imagined, but not even the single, dirty-looking Howler offered so much as an insult. Indeed, various scurvy wretches bawled coarse praise of Hiero's skill with weapons along with sundry odious compliments to Luchare's appearance and probable amatory skills. These latter drove that young lady quickly into the cabin, her ears burning.
While Gimp checked The Ravished Bride's cargo along with a burly thug who was now her temporary new master, Hiero sat on a bench and expressed surprise to Brother Aldo that such utter scoundrels would honor anything at all, let alone freely give up valuable goods.
"A pirate ship did violate the Inland Seas Truce in my lifetime, Hiero, long ago, long, long ago, but I can still remember. Everyone, pirate, raider, and armed merchant, sought her for a season, and eventually she was found and trapped. The crew, such as were not killed outright in the battle, were first impaled, then flayed alive. The captain, who had caused it to happen, lost a joint on each finger and toe, arm and leg, every day until he died. The same severed joints, broiled, I believe, were his sole sustenance until then," the old man added thoughtfully. "If a captain even suggested such a thing now, I suspect his crew would kill him before he succeeded in drawing his weapons."
"But how about the Unclean? Surely they honor nothing? And where are those other two men with the mechanical mind blocks? I can't detect them any more. Have they somehow escaped?"
"That's interesting," Brother Aldo said, his eyes brightening. "Only one answer I can see. They're in the drink, my boy, put there by their own fellows for some foolery or other, such as suggesting a truce violation. Or maybe just simple fear of the Unclean devices by their shipmates. No, they haven't escaped."
"We'd better get the two mind locks that Roke and my friend, the Glith, had, in fact right now, while I think of it," the priest said, starting up with a groan. His side bore a great blackened bruise where he had struck the mast, and he ached all over.
Brother Aldo chuckled. He patted the leather pouch which hung over one shoulder, and something within clinked musically. "I had Gimp take care of that right away. None of the common sailors wanted to touch them anyway. We'll have a look at them, you and I, when a little leisure presents itself." As he spoke, something stirred in the depths of Hiero's memory. Whatever it was could not rise to the surface, however, and he dismissed it with a sigh. Other matters came more easily to his attention.
"Would those birds really have attacked the pirates?" he asked.
"I'd have hated to do it, but yes, I think so. I think I could have made them." The chocolate skin of his face had lost its usual glow, and Hiero saw that Brother Aldo was a very old man indeed. How old? he wondered. Now, as they watched the two crews transshipping boxes and bales of goods from the large ship down a gangway to the Foam Girl, the Elevener went on. "Who knows how it would have ended? Six tons or so of squawking, flapping Lowans would make even that big ship look smaller, especially if they were trying to come aboard! They're not at all common, you know. I've seen them only three or four times in my life."
"It was a great feat, both to summon and to control such vast things," Hiero said in honest admiration.
The old man shrugged off the praise. "My business, Hiero, and I think you have learned more in a few months about such things than I did in a great many years. But something else is troubling you."
"Yes," the Metz said, his voice lowered so that no one nearby could hear him. "That thing I killed, the Glith, Hoke called it. It was a mighty hypnotist, you know, and damned near got me under a spell. Only Luchare's shriek brought me out. What was it? The crew threw its body overboard quickly, and I never got much of a look. Surely it belongs to the Unclean."
"I got little more of a look than you, but I did try to examine it when I took the mind lock from its neck. Gimp got the other one for me." Aldo paused. "We have heard rumors of new mutations, what you'd call Leemutes, new and more dreadful ones, which did not grow by accident from ancient genetic damage. No���these new creatures have been bred and trained from birth in the Unclean laboratories and fortresses. This Glith thing could be one such. Certainly I never saw anything like it before."
"It was like a loathsome reptile crossed with an even more wicked and repellent human," Hiero said.
"A very typical, concept of the Unclean it sounds, doesn't it?" Brother Aldo asked. He seemed to expect no answer and simply continued to stare blankly away over the gray and tossing seas.
-
10 - The Forests of the South
Night lay over the ancient port of Neeyana. A few small craft moved on the surface of the moonlit harbor, mostly skiffs taking crews out to sailing ships at anchor. No cargo had moved on any of the long piers and wharves since sunset. In the narrow, murky streets leading to the harbor, a few dim lights glowed where a street held a few taverns for late roisterers. Now and again a furtive, solitary shape moved in the shadows, bent on some dubious errand or other, but no honest man ventured out at night in Neeyana unless well guarded or simply desperate. Too long had evil had its way with the old harbor town, and now only those under the protection of that same evil could walk unchallenged, save in broad daylight or in well-armed company. Yet cargo had to move, and no other seaport served this southeastern corner of the Inland Sea. Hence the east-west trade passed through Neeyana, in haste and fear on one side and grudging reluctance on that of the other, which ruled. A greater tribute could hardly have been paid the mercantile instinct of the human race than the fact that the trade continued and in some sense even flourished.
From high in a tower, indeed the actual highest point in Neeyana, two dark shapes watched over the nighted harbor below and the moon-rayed expanse of sea beyond, out to the black line marking the northern horizon.
"All seems useless against this fantastic crew of intruders," a harsh voice said. "Whatever we do, whatever weapons we use, it seems to make no difference, The chief enemy bursts our bonds, evades our strokes, and destroys our ships without trace. Nothing seems capable of arresting his progress, even momentarily. A pretty pass we've come to!"
"I agree," a second voice said, as like the first as a twin. "But consider. They, or he, for we have no idea what his allies actually represent, has now passed through two Circles. The Yellow, ours, lies before him, unless he turns back or goes elsewhere on a tangent. And both ideas seem to me unlikely. He has always moved in this direction since we first had word of his coming. And the Blue Master, S'duna, is also coming here!
"So he too will come here, our foe will, or at least near to here. In fact, I have news. He is coming. I just came from the instrument room. Two of the new Vocoders registered by the Blue Circle are moving this way across the sea. We have established that the Blue Brothers gave out four! Three to shipmen in this area, men we know well, led by Bald Roke. And one, mark you, to a Glith! The Glith was along to keep Roke under control if necessary."
"And now?" The first harsh voice was eager.
"Two of the instruments are gone, destroyed, at a guess. Two are turned off, but, of course, still registering on our screens. I would hazard the four original owners, the Glith included, are now dead and that the enemy, unwitting, has pocketed the two remaining instruments, perhaps for study. A guess, but I think rather a good one." There was a pause.
"Now, I believe, we can start to summon some of our own forces. The Yellow Brothers at least will not fail the cause!"
There was silence again as the two dark shapes, their hoods drawn in the moonlight, stared out over the old town. The stone parapet on which they leaned had long ago encircled the belfry of an ancient church, but the tall tower now housed only nightmare evil.
Far off in the east, a faint light gave promise of coming dawn. The figures turned and vanished from the tower.
"We will have to trust to our wits, at leas
t as much as any Unclean chart, Hiero." Brother Aldo's long, dark forefinger pointed to a line on the map spread out before them. "For one thing," he went on, "we can't read all of it."
The bear drowsed in a corner of the little cabin's heaving deck, the flickering lantern light making him look larger than he was. At the round table, its base clamped to the deck, sat the Metz, Brother Aldo, Luchare, and Captain Gimp, all trying to interpret the secrets of the strange map.
"We Eleveners have learned to read some of their symbols, over the years, that is," Brother Aldo went on. "But things such as these maps have seldom fallen into our hands in my lifetime, which is not a short one. This must be a precious chance.
"See here!" His finger traced a thin, crooked line from the Inland Sea which inclined roughly southeast by east. "This is a trail I have not used in many seasons. It lies to the north of the track over which you were brought, princess. That particular one is the major route between the Lantik coast and this sea of fresh water on which we now ride. It goes to Neeyana, here. "His finger indicated a circle.
"Now, as you felt in your bones, child, Neeyana is wholly given over to evil. This mark I know well, an enemy mark, unchanged for hundreds of years. It means 'ours' and, see here, it overlies the whole city. Still, trade, some of it quite innocent, passes through. The Unclean suffer it, taxing it not too heavily, but gathering a good deal of information and also using the traders as a cover for their own agents and schemes.
"Well, so do we! And I would wager we generally know more of their plans than they do of ours.
"But I wonder." Again his gnarled finger traced the narrower line of the northern trail. "This goes through the forest, and Hiero, my friend, you have never seen our southern trees! Look here, now, look, a patch of another circle. Blue it is. Without trying to figure out the enemy color chart, I can tell you what that means. A desert, and deadly one, for it was caused by the radiation of The Death. These blighted deserts and similar strange, radioactive spots are generally shrinking, but they still exist, and a few even spread, so long was the life of the deadly cobalt bombs, and the stranger life they engendered. Hence the blue. For on our own maps these places are colored blue also, 'cobalt' being an ancient pre-Death word for that color.
"So, Hiero, the large Dead City you seek seems to lie near to that waste, or on its northern edge. In the distance are other Lost Cities, but much further on to the east. Still, I would feel better if I could see the map the Abbey rulers gave you. If you will trust me."
There was a brief silence. The lantern creaked at the end of its short chain. No one spoke.
"Surely you trust the good Brother, Master Hiero?" Captain Gimp burst out. He banged his fist on the table. "Why, he's saved all our lives a dozen times over in the past, and yours twice I knows of!"
Hiero laughed, his swarthy, hawk face clearing on the instant. "Sorry, Brother Aldo. You're quite right, Gimp. I apologize. But Abbot Demero laid it upon me to keep this secret. My mission, I mean, or at least its ultimate goal. I find it hard to trust anyone at all. The Unclean have so damned many disguises!
"Still, if I can't tell my real friends by now, I'd better give up! And I mean you too, Captain! Here's the map, then. What do you think, Brother?"
"Ah!" For a minute or so, the curly white beard almost touched the surface of the Abbey map as the old man pored over it. Then he straightened and looked at the others, dark eyes glowing, the whites like new ivory.
"I thought so. This is a very old map, Hiero, or rather a new copy of an old map. There are things on here I did not know still to exist and others which I know for a fact not to exist at all, at least for many centuries."
"In other words," the priest said, "a quite unreliable guide?"
"Yes and no. Alone, with no other aids, definitely yes. But with me and with the Unclean's own set of maps, perhaps not. For, as I said, there are things on here, on your map, which are now covered by ancient forest and evil waste and yet which could perhaps now be found again."
They pondered this for a while as the even rhythm of the Foam Girl never changed, rocking up and down, up and down, as she rode the long swells running to the south. Above their heads, the lantern smoked and swayed in tune with the shifting motion. It was two days after their battle with the pirates.
A discussion of routes continued. Hiero had still not mentioned what he ultimately sought and he had no intention of doing so. The fewer people who knew, the better, even if utterly trustworthy. He could always kill himself if trapped, in which case the enemy would still be left uncertain as to his true goal. He knew more strongly, as each league rolled under Foam Girl's keel, that the Unclean would lay a nation in ashes to gain one of the ancient computers. With such a device, they would be literally invulnerable.
He saw that Brother Aldo was looking at him expectantly and brought his attention back with a start.
"Sorry, I missed that last remark."
"Well, Gimp knows of no harbor, at least none inhabited, on that coast where the northern trail comes down. He says it's untouched forest right down to the edge of the sea. But we'd better try and find that trailhead all the same. Even overgrown, I feel it is our best chance, and it heads straight to that desert. And one thing about the great woods is that there we will be on my ground. The Unclean do haunt the forests at times, but even with their beast and Leemute allies, they do not know them, not as we do. And, Hiero, you are a woods ranger too, even if only of the smaller woods of the Taig, which we southerners know to be stunted and shriveled." His laughing eyes made the others smile at the jest.
"All right," Hiero said, folding the maps and stowing them away. "How far from Neeyana is that trail end, do you think?"
"If that map, or rather all them maps, are right, not much more'n fifty miles up the coast," Gimp said. His small eyes stared beadily at them. "There's sometimes a few savages in the woods around there, mostly a wee kind of red dwarf man with poisoned arrows, that like to shoot at ships when we come in for wood or fruit. I'll do my best to get you in to where that line there ends, but how you'll find it in them trees is beyond me. And the animals! Whew!"
"Good," the old man said. "Never mind the beasts, Gimp. You'll be safe enough in our good ship here. The high forest does not reach out into your beloved waters. Hiero, we have a little time now and we should make land in only a few hours more. What do you say we examine those mind locks which we captured from the enemy? I have them right here."
In a moment the two strange devices were laid upon the table before them. Luchare looked at them with loathing, but Hiero and Brother Aldo with interest, while Gimp's battered face seemed to reflect both attitudes.
The locks themselves were of the curious, oily-looking bluish metal which Hiero had noticed the Unclean favored. The heavy neck chains were of some other metal, lighter in weight, though the color was not dissimilar. The mysterious mechanisms lay inside square cases, about three inches around and a half inch thick. There were certain marks like writing incised on them, but no one there, not even old Aldo, could read them. Other decoration there was none. And there were only very faint visible seams and no catch, or opening, on them at all.
"Don't you suppose," Luchare said, looking closely at a fine seam line, "that it would be dangerous to break one? Are they guarded in some way, do you think, so that a person opening it wrong would be hurt?"
"That's possible," Hiero said. He lifted a case and held it to his ear. Was it his imagination, or did he hear an almost imperceptible humming inside?
"No, I hear nothing," Brother Aldo said, on being asked, nor did the others. "But I know very little of such things," he continued. "To be quite honest, few of my order do. We have concentrated on developing empathy with all life through our natural mental powers, and again, quite frankly, we dislike mechanical devices of any sort. This may be a mistake. I think myself we may have gone too far in the anti-machine direction. There's no reason that a limited number of machines cannot help the world, if they are controlled and properly de
signed. And we had better figure out the working of many Unclean devices or we'll be in real trouble. But I'm not the man to do it, I'm afraid. Actually, Hiero, you've had a lot of experience lately with their devices. You should know as much as anyone not actually in their ranks, I would think."
Hiero stared gloomily at the two shining objects on the table. Once more something gnawed faintly at his memory, some random thought, but again it seemed too elusive to come to the surface of his mind.
"The only gadgets I've seen, that is, Unclean devices," he said slowly, "weren't much like this. There was Luchare's lance, which is a thought amplifier as well, and that compass-thing I also took off S'nerg, way back up North. I had to destroy that; remind me to tell you about it later. Then there was the mind prober they tried to use on me at the Dead Isle. And the machine I call the lightning gun, which blasted me down. I think it shoots charges of static electricity, though God alone knows how. These are mind blocks and they must be miracles of design: they're so small."
He sighed. "I can't figure them out at all, and yet something keeps telling me to be awfully careful of them. Maybe Luchare's right; some explosive or poison or something of the sort lies inside for the unwary."
"Well, I better go on deck," Gimp said, rising. "Landfall can't be many hours away, no, nor dawn neither. And I don't want to run on an uncharted rock, not off this coast!"
"I'm going to bed, and so is Hiero," Luchare said firmly. "We'll need all our rest tomorrow, and only that lazy bear is getting a proper amount of sleep."
"You're right," Aldo said, also rising. "But old men don't need much sleep, princess, so I'll walk the decks with our captain. Perhaps I'll get a message or two."
Hiero yawned and pulled off his boots, sitting on the edge of the bunk. Beside him, Luchare had already closed her eyes. She fell asleep like a child, he noted, in seconds. Damn it, what is there about those mind locks that worries me so? He glared at the things as they lay, still glinting on the table, then blew out the lantern. Whatever it was could wait.
Hiero Desteen: 01 - Hiero's Journey Page 27
