Strata

by Terry Pratchett

  A group of three men were standing around the dumbwaiter. Two of them wore heavy grey robes and the third, a youth, wore clothes that were bright and obviously impractical. All three pulled back guiltily as she approached.

  Then the youth said something and reached inside his shirt, pulling out an amulet which he held in front of him as he advanced stiff-legged towards her. He held it like a weapon. Kin noticed that his eyes were glazed. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

  He stopped in front of her, staring straight ahead. She sensed that everyone was expecting something of her.

  She reached out gingerly and took the amulet.

  There was a gasp from the robed pair. Behind her Brickface doubled up with sudden laughter. The young man stared, lips moving on soundless words. Kin peered politely at the thing in her hands. It was a wooden cross, with what she at first thought was the figure of an acrobat; she handed it back as graciously as she could manage.

  The young man grabbed it, looked frantically around the clearing, and scurried away up the slope to the track.

  As the robed men started to follow him Kin could see what they had been doing. They had run a sword into the dumbwaiter’s output slot.

  ‘They’re breaking up the ’waiter!’ she hissed.

  ‘Okay, Kin. When I say duck, duck. DUCK!’

  Something whirred past her head and struck one of the men between the eyes. He gave a sigh and toppled backward.

  ‘Cape illud, fracturor,’ said a satisfied voice in her ear. Brickface gripped her wrist firmly and stalked towards the slope, the archers following him as closely. They glanced fearfully at the forest.

  ‘What was that?’ said Kin as she was jerked up the slope. Pine needles clung and pricked her feet.

  ‘Silver threw a stone,’ said Marco, the awe in his voice recognizable even in earpiece reproduction. Kin looked back and saw the ’waiter, her suit and the fallen man lying forlornly near the water’s edge.

  ‘There is little we can do at present,’ said the kung conversationally. ‘The weaponry is laughable, but the situation is not sufficiently desperate to warrant a direct confrontation.’

  ‘Uh?’

  ‘I would not wish you to think that I am motivated by anything other than intelligent caution.’

  ‘No, Marco.’

  ‘Now Silver would like a word.’ There was a rustle.

  ‘You are thought to be some kind of water spirit,’ said Silver. ‘Apparently they’re not uncommon. You should have screamed when they showed you that figure of the Christos. My immediate advice is to cover yourself as soon as possible. There appears to be some rigid prohibition concerning nudity.’

  There were more armed men waiting on the track, with some robed men among them. Brick-face swung himself into the saddle of a waiting horse and lifted Kin up behind him, dumping her on the beast’s rump without a word and then ignoring her. At his brief command the entire troop moved off.

  ‘This is Silver again. Do not despair.’

  ‘I am not despairing,’ said Kin. ‘I am just getting good and mad.’

  ‘We have returned to the clearing. Marco is reviving the stunned priest.’ There was a thin scream which stopped abruptly. ‘Kin?’

  ‘I’m still here,’ she said. One of the robed men had ridden up alongside Brickface. He wore a fur-edged cloak over his robe and appeared to be important. He was also furious.

  ‘This is a perfect opportunity,’ said Silver. ‘Hopefully we shall shortly learn more about these people. If you find yourself in difficulties, you can of course initiate sexual relations with your captor. The men call him Lothar.’

  The cloaked man was shouting and pointing back along the trail, with occasional poisonous looks at Kin. Lothar’s replies were distant and monosyllabic, until he reached over and in one movement grabbed the priest by the front of his robe and almost lifted him off his horse. He snarled a sentence and spat a full stop. The other man went white, out of either fury or fear.

  ‘This is exceptionally interesting,’ said Silver. Kin thought she could also hear a babble of high-pitched Latin in the background.

  ‘Is the ’waiter badly damaged?’ said Kin.

  ‘Not badly. It can be repaired. Another centimetre and the sword would have hit the 5,000 kV line – Marco! It is essential he does not faint again!’

  The party left the forest and headed hub-wards by Kin’s estimation, on a track that ran alternately between stretches of half-cultivated ground and marshes.

  The smoke pillar loomed, dominating the sky. Its tip was now made ragged by high-altitude winds.

  Soon they met a straggle of people coming the other way. They ran off the track when they saw Lothar’s band, but he wheeled after them and one man was caught. He was brought before Lothar, struggling and gasping out answers to the questions that were grunted at him.

  ‘Silver,’ said Kin, ‘how do you say “I’m nearly freezing to death”?’

  Silver translated. Kin tapped Lothar on the shoulder and repeated the phrase, as best she could.

  He turned in the saddle and stared at her in astonishment, before unfastening the heavy brooch that held his cloak. Kin wrapped the heavy and odorous cloth around her. There was a comment, almost inaudible, from the senior priest.

  ‘He said “Soon you will both be warmed by the fires of Hell”,’ murmured Silver helpfully.

  ‘Great. I’ve only been here a few hours and already I’ve made friends.’

  ‘Listen carefully. Your party contains priests of the Christ-Creator religion. They are heading towards the smoke column in the belief that it is a sign that the Christ has returned. Lothar, however, is a minor noble with a line in brigandage and part-time looting. According to our informant, he is a son of Saitan.’

  ‘Saitan has a lot of relatives in these parts,’ said Kin.

  ‘It is a strange religion. Everyone is evil until proved holy. Our informant says the priests met up with Lothar on the road and they banded together for mutual protection, but this liaison is likely to end at any moment.’

  ‘Are you telling me that Lothar’s God is returning and he’s thinking of nothing but pillage?’

  ‘Probably rape and murder as well,’ said Silver. ‘You are heading for a holy house for the night. We will endeavour to rescue you then. Now I must sign off for the moment, I’ve got an injured man to attend to. I’ll say this for these Christers, they’re brave. This one hit out at Marco. Picture the result.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘I persuaded Marco that the man was more useful alive. He just broke both his arms.’

  In the early evening they came to a town of thatched houses surrounding what Silver identified as a religious foundation. The muddy streets were thick with people and carts. The party got through only after Lothar sent men ahead to clear a path with the flats, and sometimes the points, of their swords.

  There were noisy crowds around the holy buildings, dressed in the main in drab and holy colours. The senior priest was greeted effusively, even frantically, and helped to dismount. Lothar watched impassively. Looking round, Kin saw that his men had fanned out among the crowd with drawn bows, sometimes glancing at the sky.

  The senior priest, identified by Silver as Otto, spoke sharply to a holy man. He ran off and returned a few minutes later at a respectful distance in front of one who, to judge by the way the crowd parted for him, was even holier.

  He was tubby and red-eyed, as if he hadn’t slept for some time. Over the standard robe he wore a red cloak with patterns in gold thread, now crusted with dirt. He listened gravely as Otto spoke. Then he walked over to Lothar’s horse and peered at Kin. Finally he reached out and pinched her sharply on the thigh.

  In the circumstances, she decided against any action.

  Lothar dismounted and fell on one knee in front of the priest, one hand on his heart. He spoke eloquently. To Kin he sounded like a salesman.

  She tried to raise Silver.

  ‘I can be of little help,’ the shand reported. ‘
Latin is a ceremonial language, like a religious allspeak. This is one of the early German tongues, I think. The fat man is possibly the local bishop, and this is a trial. What appears to be at stake is whether Lothar keeps you or hands you over.’

  ‘What about the heroic rescue? It’s wearying, you know, constantly being tensed up waiting for one’s friends to plummet out of the sky with lasers blazing—’

  ‘I had intended using your stunner, but it was not in your suit,’ said Silver. ‘No doubt you lost it on the floating island. Plan B also will not work. Marco intended to swoop down wearing two belts to carry you off, but Lothar’s men maintain a constant skywatch. For dragons, do you think?’

  ‘What’s plan C, then?’

  There was a sigh. ‘Marco intends to land and hack and slash at everyone.’

  ‘That’s a good plan,’ said Kin.

  ‘He is mad. The Norsemen have a term, berserker. It was designed for Marco.’

  Lothar stopped speaking. The bishop looked down at him, then up at Kin. He beckoned.

  After a few seconds she slid off the horse’s back, the cloak slipping from her as she landed. There was a rustle of voices from the crowd.

  The bishop nodded and waddled off, beckoning Kin to follow him. The crowd pressed in silently behind her.

  They went between the holy buildings to a stamped-earth yard, full of long shadows in the sinking sun light. Part of the yard was roofed. Under the roof were bars.

  ‘I’m about to be locked up, Silver!’ she hissed. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘A wooded eminence outside the town. The bars do not look alarmingly thick. They may trust to them to guard you.’

  ‘Silver, how can you see the bars?’

  ‘Marco is behind you in the crowd. He is giving me eyewitness reports. Do not look for him.’

  The bishop stopped by the middle cage, and swung open the door. When Kin stopped there was a gentle prod of a sword in her back. She stepped in.

  The lock was primitive but big. The bars did not look alarmingly thick, according to Silver. They were six-inch posts. What was normally kept there that needed six-inch thick bars?

  They left her sitting in the dirt and walked away. After a while the last of the crowd left the compound, leaving a group of bowmen who spread out, watching the sky. Presently a man brought her a bowl of scraps, dropped them within her reach, and bolted.

  A few stars lit up. Beyond the compound’s walls came the rattle of carts, and many shouts.

  ‘Silver?’ she said querulously.

  There was a heart-stopping pause before the reply came back.

  ‘Ah, Kin. I am now better informed. Your precise status is still to be determined. Your friend Lothar has at least saved you from arbitrary execution. I have also learned more about the current disc situation. Would you be interested in hearing it? We will not collect you until it is fully dark. I doubt if those bowmen can better Marco’s excellent night vision.’

  ‘Go ahead and amuse me,’ said Kin, wrinkling her nose over the food bowl. It could make me sick, she decided, it looks as though it’s already done so to someone else.

  ‘This is all exceptionally interesting,’ said Silver. ‘There is no doubt among the populace that this is either the return of the Christ or the end of the disc or both. Fires are raging – our ship, you understand. There have been strange signs in the sky. The town is divided between travellers hastening to the advent and those fleeing from it.’

  Kin listened to the cries outside.

  ‘What are they fleeing for?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s a very choosy god.’

  ‘How did you find out about this?’

  There was a pause. At last Silver said, ‘Promise me that if we get back home you won’t reveal the information-gathering system we, uh, evolved. I could be subject to severe disciplinary action from the all-planet committee on anthropological research procedures.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ promised Kin.

  ‘Marco slugs a likely looking subject, flies him over here and knocks the shit out of him until I’ve heard enough.’

  Kin grinned. ‘It’s not like drawing circles in the sand, is it?’

  ‘Much more efficient, though.’

  There was a commotion at the entrance to the compound. In the half-light Kin saw a knot of men approaching, surrounding a taller shape that moved across the ground in hops.

  When it drew nearer the cages Kin saw that it was roughly man-shaped but at least three metres high. Once it reared and spread a pair of dark wings the size of sheets. One of the men darted forward. The tall shape whimpered, and cowered. Kin, pressed against the bars, got an impression of scales, and pectoral muscles like barrels.

  She jumped back as the door of the neighbouring cage was opened and the thing prodded inside. She saw a stubby-horned head and glowing green eyes that narrowed when they saw her.

  The door slammed shut and the men retreated quickly. The creature grunted, gave the door an experimental shake, went and sat down in the far corner of the cage with its arms around its knees.

  The men returned, and they were carrying a small struggling body. Kin made out the shape of a creature like the one she had seen on the hilltop – part-human, part-animal, part-insect. It whistled shrilly as it was carried. As one of the men let go to reopen the cage door, it screeched and raked his chest with a claw. When he fell back it wriggled free, kicked another man in the stomach with a small hoof, and sank its teeth into a third’s arm before it was grabbed.

  The man who had been clawed stood up silently and landed a swinging blow that crunched when it hit, like the crushing of beetles. It landed in a heap inside the cage, and lay still.

  The men retreated but did not leave the area. After a while a watchman’s fire sprang up. Kin called up Silver.

  ‘They are staying,’ she said. ‘There must be ten of them now. Marco’ll never get in!’

  ‘I think the guard is for the benefit of your friend in the next cell,’ said Silver. ‘Marco has a plan, though. Two plans, in fact. If the first doesn’t work, he proposes to explode the ’waiter’s powerpack.’

  Kin thought about it. ‘That would kill us all’, she said, ‘and leave a crater about a mile across.’

  ‘Quite so. But we would have won.’

  There had never been a man–kung war, just a few early skirmishes now diplomatically forgotten. Kung had no concept of conquest, mercy, prisoners or rules. Marco was tainted with human ideas, but …

  ‘Is he serious?’

  ‘I think he is frightened almost to death.’

  The big winged creature was watching Kin. She was aware of two pale lights in the gloom.

  ‘I have my own plan,’ said Silver.

  ‘Oh, good. I like listening to plans.’

  ‘I have compiled a speech. When a priest next approaches you will recite it to him.

  ‘You are an Ethiopian princess, left stranded in this country when your party was attacked by robbers. You demand to be released. You are a devout Christer, by the way. So is your father, who is a king, and who will be angry in very physical ways when he hears about this treatment.’

  ‘It sounds a bit contrived,’ said Kin. She was watching the giant in the next cell. Three metres high. What did it use for ankle bones?

  ‘KIN ARAD,’ said the winged demon.

  She stared. Nothing had moved. The creature was still slumped against the bars, watching her. When he spoke again – Kin couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but the lip movements didn’t seem to coincide with the sounds she heard, as if something was being badly dubbed.

  ‘I am Kin Arad,’ she said.

  ‘WHAT IS YOUR DOMINION?’ said the demon in perfect allspeak.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I AM SPHANDOR, OF THE DOMINION OF AGLIERAP. I CANNOT DETERMINE YOUR DOMINION OR PLACE.’

  ‘It seems to be speaking shandi,’ said Silver.

  ‘SPEAK. ARE WE PARTNERS IN ADVERSITY?’

  ‘
I hear it in allspeak,’ said Kin urgently. ‘I think it’s using some kind of direct mind stimulation. Its lips aren’t moving properly.’

  ‘DO NOT MUMBLE. DO YOU THINK I DO NOT KNOW OF THE CREATURES TO WHOM YOU TALK BY THE POWER OF THE LIGHTNING? THE THINKING BEAR AND THE UPRIGHT FROG WITH FOUR ARMS? AND THE MECHANICAL DEVICE THAT PREPARED FOOD BEYOND THE POWERS OF HUICTIGRARAS?’

  ‘Are you reading my mind?’

  ‘OF COURSE I AM, YOU STUPID BITCH. BUT IT IS DIFFICULT. YOU ARE OF THIS WORLD YET NOT OF THIS WORLD, NEITHER ARE YOU OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE DAMNED, YET THE PRAYING ONES HAVE CAPTURED YOU.’

  ‘Keep it talking,’ said Silver.

  ‘The Christers think I am a water sprite,’ said Kin.

  ‘SPRITES CANNOT SPEAK AND ARE OF LOW INTELLIGENCE, AS EVERYONE KNOWS. THEY ARE LIKE THIS THING.’

  Sphandor kicked out and managed to hit the wheezing faun with a curved toenail. It whimpered.

  ‘It’s injured,’ said Kin. ‘Can we do anything to help it?’

  ‘WHY SHOULD WE? IT BARELY KNOWS IT IS ALIVE. ELVES BREED LIKE FLIES IN THE WOODS. YOU THINK THEY MAKE NICE MUSIC, BUT IT IS AS A CRICKET CHIRPS - MINDLESSLY.

  ‘I GATHER YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE EXPLOSION THAT KNOCKED ME OUT OF THE AIR THREE DAYS AGO?’

  ‘Uh, yes.’ Kin thought quickly. ‘There was a flying chariot, you see—’

  ‘A THREE THOUSAND TONNE STARSHIP,’ Sphandor agreed, ‘IMPACTING AT FOUR HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR.’

  ‘Do you know what those words mean?’

  ‘NO, BUT THEY WERE AT THE FOREFRONT OF YOUR MIND. THE SHOCK WAVES KNOCKED ME OUT OF THE AIR, AND SOME CHRISTERS REACHED ME AND BOUND ME BEFORE I COULD RISE. IF I BUT HAD MY FREEDOM I WOULD TEAR THEIR EARS OFF.’

  It must be vat-grown, thought Kin. Nothing like that could have evolved naturally. If those wings worked it would have to be very light, bird-boned. She would have to ask it questions – later.

  ‘I want to escape,’ she said. ‘Silver?’ There was no answer from the earpiece.

  ‘I LIKEWISE. IT IS UNFORTUNATELY IMPOSSIBLE. TOMORROW WE SHALL BE BROUGHT BEFORE THE BISHOP’S COURT. I SHALL CERTAINLY BE EXECUTED.’

  ‘Will they waste time with a court when they think their god is coming?’