The Sword and the Chain

by Joel Rosenberg

  Part Two:

  The Valley

  Chapter Six

  Settling In

  All things are artificial, for Nature is the art of God.

  —Sir Thomas Browne

  The valley took Karl by surprise, although that morning Ellegon had told him they would reach it shortly after noon.

  He led his mare up a gentle incline, through the charred remains of what once had been a stand of trees. There was no way of knowing what had caused the fire that had burned a black slash across the surrounding miles; possibly someone's carelessness, possibly a lightning strike.

  The fire had been years before; rain had since reduced the burned trees to a flat ash surface that allowed easy passage for both the flatbed and the former slave wagon.

  Life was starting to return; impudently, thumb-thick saplings rose chest-high, as though in a promise that this area would be wooded once again. In the light breeze, leafy ferns nodded their agreement.

  In further confirmation, the grasses had started to reclaim the ground at the top of the hill.

  His horse snorted, nudging him from behind.

  "Dammit, Carrot, we're moving fast enough." He turned to stroke her neck before resuming their slow pace through the rubble. "You take it easy, hear? I don't want you breaking a leg."

  She whinnied as if she understood, and agreed that breaking a leg was, indeed, not the ultimate goal of her horsy life.

  Hmmm, would the healing draughts work on a horse?

  Possibly. Quite possibly.

  But would Ahira object to his experimenting, even if it meant the difference between preserving and having to kill the horse?

  Certainly; the dwarf and the horses had something less than a deep and abiding affection for each other.

  Behind him, Ahira grunted as he pulled on the reins of his gray gelding. "Move, you filthy little monster. Move, I said." The small horse towered above the dwarf, drawing back its head to the limits of the reins and snorting at Ahira as it gave ground, inch by inch.

  *Quite a horseman, eh?* The mental voice was faint.

  Quite.

  Following Ahira, Slovotsky sat in his usual place on the bench of the flatbed, with blond Kirah close beside him. A few weeks of freedom had done Kirah's appearance good; she actually was quite pretty, although a bit too skinny for Karl's tastes.

  Deep in quiet conversation, Walter smiled, and patted her knee. Karl found that vaguely reassuring, and was ashamed of himself for feeling that way.

  Walter's my friend, dammit. I should be happy he's found someone, not relieved that I don't have to worry about him and Andy-Andy anymore.

  *To the best of my knowledge, Walter has never been accused of practicing exclusivity.*

  Ellegon!

  *If you're going to trust either or both of them, then do so. If not, don't. But whipping yourself with worry suggests that you don't think you have enough real problems to worry about. Would you like to hear my list?*

  No thanks, Ellegon. . . . I can always turn to you for a spot of reassurance, eh?

  *Think nothing of it.*

  I won't.

  Behind Slovotsky and Kirah, Lou Riccetti napped under a light blanket, with a sack of grain for his pillow. The wind carried his snores to Karl's ears.

  Hmph. Riccetti was supposed to be keeping an eye on the bull, who was secured to the flatbed by a length of rope tied to his brass nose ring. Karl thought about waking Riccetti, then dismissed the idea. No need, the lumbering beast followed without complaint.

  From its high seat, Andy-Andy drove the former slave wagon, little Aeia huddled next to her, the five chicken cages tied down on the flat roof. The bars were gone from the wagon's windows, having joined the other rod stock in the back of the flatbed.

  Trotting along beside the wagon, the two goats voiced their unflattering opinion of the whole party. Aeia turned to give them a few reassuring words. She liked the goats, although the smelly creatures didn't return her affection.

  Aeia was still a problem; she had yet to make it through a night without waking up crying, not going back to sleep until Andy-Andy held her for at least an hour.

  What it came down to was simple: Aeia was homesick. There was a solution to that, but Andy-Andy wasn't going to like it; she had practically adopted the girl.

  Spread out behind the wagon, Tennetty, Chton, Ihryk, and Fialt led their horses, occasionally switching the five cows to make them keep the pace. The cattle were brakes on the whole procession; they could barely walk fifteen miles on a good day. Goddam splay-footed beasts—

  *Stop worrying; the trip is almost over.*

  Last was Chak, who insisted on riding his horse through the charred rubble, swearing at her when she balked.

  Karl stroked Carrot's neck as they walked up the hill. "Easy, now."

  *A carrot works better than a stick, most of the time.* This time Ellegon's voice was louder, clearer.

  Karl looked up. High overhead, the dragon circled, a dark speck against the blue sky. True. Which is why I finally got around to naming my horse Carrot.

  *A suitable name. She is probably very tasty.*

  "Ellegon, you are not eating my horse. Case closed."

  *Hmph. I would have thought I deserved some sort of reward for finding a route you can take your wagons over.* The mindlink grew tighter for a moment, then loosened. *Lewis and Clark didn't have aerial reconnaissance. Neither did Cortez, or Pizarro. You may have noticed that you haven't had to turn around and try a different route once over the past three months.*

  "I noticed. Honest. And I noticed it the first day, even before you mentioned it. So would you please—" He cut himself off. Snide comments were not the way to handle a child asking for praise. You've done one hell of a job, in case I haven't mentioned that recently.

  *You haven't.*

  The crest of the hill lay just a few yards ahead; the slope steepened. On an impulse, Karl dropped Carrot's reins and ran up, onto the summit, and over the hill.

  And into wonder.

  The valley opened up below him, trees and grasses spread out in a welcoming green embrace. In the distance, silvery threads of streams wove their way down from the far, snow-peaked mountains, tumbling through stands of pine and maple, finally emptying into the mirror-bright lake that cupped the valley floor.

  Half a mile below, seven deer drank at the lake's edge. The water was still, mirroring the fluffy clouds and blue sky. A five-point buck looked up at him; then the group sprinted gracefully into the forest, leaping high over the grasses as they ran.

  The wind blew across the valley, bathing him in the warm tang of sunbaked grasses, and the cool scent of pines.

  He didn't notice Chak walking up. One moment, Karl was all alone; the next, the little man stood beside him, Carrot's reins in one hand, the reins of his own gray mare in the other.

  "Like it?" Chak smiled, handing him the reins.

  Karl didn't answer him.

  It wasn't necessary.

  * * *

  "Ready, Lou?"

  Riccetti nodded, smiling inside. Ready? I've been waiting my whole life for a moment like this.

  Ahira beckoned him to his feet. "You go first."

  Riccetti rose and walked to the campfire. He turned to face the others, his back to the crackling flame.

  "The two main considerations in this sort of construction," he said, "are water supply and defense."

  All the others looked at him, listening intently.

  Which was nice; Lou liked being the center of attention. For once.

  Slovotsky nodded. "Good point, but what does that do for us?"

  The fire was hot; sweating, Riccetti moved away from it, the heat still pressing against his back. "Form follows function, Walter," he said. "What we've got to do is figure out what sort of complex to make, given our present limitations of materials and the lack of power tools. I wish we had a few dozen tons of concrete mix, steel girders, PVC pipe, and such. But we don't."

  Both Chton and Fialt frowne
d, while the other new people stared back blankly; Riccetti realized that he had lapsed back into English.

  Item, he thought, English, teaching of. Discussion: Many useful concepts are not available in Erendra, absent a great deal of neologism or circumlocution. Examples: concrete, suspension bridge, gunpowder, steam engine, railroad. Question: Should we actually teach English, or settle for supplementing Erendra vocabulary?

  Sprawled on the ground behind the others, Ellegon raised his head. *Noted, Louis. I will remind you of this later, when you have time to consider it.*

  Don't forget.

  *Dragons don't forget, stupid. We leave that sort of thing to humans.*

  "My apologies," he said in Erendra, both to Ellegon and to the natives. "I was saying that we don't have many different materials to work with, nor do we have . . . magical tools, other than the woodknife."

  Chak spat. "And you should be grateful for that, instead of complaining that we don't have any other magical tools. Woodknives are rare, Richetih; takes a master wizard to make one, and it takes him years. I don't know where Orhmyst bought—or, more likely, stole—his. I've traveled far; only heard of a few in existence. Only seen one other, in Sciforth, and that one heavily guarded. You couldn't have bought that knife for a wagonload of gold."

  Cullinane raised a palm. "Stand easy, Chak. Lou was just commenting, not criticizing."

  That seemed to settle the matter for the little man; Chak listened to Karl the way Riccetti would have listened to Washington Roebling himself.

  Riccetti went on: "How and what we build has to be planned with that limitation in mind. We also have to consider the problem of the water supply."

  Tennetty shrugged, sending her straight black hair flipping about her face.

  She was a slim woman, with an almost impossibly thin nose, and a permanent expression of distance on her drawn face. The daughter of a poor farmer on one of the Shattered Islands, on her fifteenth birthday she had been sold to a slaver's ship. The ten intervening years hadn't treated her kindly, as she passed from owner to owner; it showed in her lined face.

  Riccetti found her profoundly unattractive, even when her mouth was closed. Which was usually, but nevertheless all too seldom.

  "What problem?" She gestured at the lake, which lay shimmering in the starlight. "If we build our houses close to the lake, then we have a short walk for water. If we are stupid enough to build them far away, then we have a long walk for water. What is so complicated about how far you have to carry a bucket?"

  Sitting on the other side of Andrea from little Aeia, Cullinane shook his head, grinning. "I'd really like to have running water, myself. Taste of home, and all that. You've got a way?"

  "Yup." Riccetti smiled. "I took a quick look this afternoon, while the rest of you were lolling around camp. So far, I've counted seven streams that feed into the lake. I've found one with a waterfall." He pointed. "About a quarter-mile that way. The waterfall's small—it's not much taller than Karl is. But if we set up the compound over part of that stream, surrounding the waterfall, we can divert it, and still have a bit of flow to play around with. We'll want a mill, for one thing . . . and in the future, I might be able to rig up some sort of water heater."

  "Hot showers," Andrea said, sighing. She bent her head toward Aeia's. "Have you ever had a hot shower?"

  She shook her head. "What's a shower, Andy?"

  "But in the short run, we can have flowing water inside, for washing, cooking, and for privies."

  Ahira's forehead furrowed. "How are you going to build a flush toilet?"

  Riccetti shrugged. "That's years away. For now, you're going to have to settle for a constant-flow one, sort of like an outhouse with some water from the stream running underneath. Open pipes like the Romans', but we'll use wood instead of lead."

  Slovotsky nodded his approval. "That's not bad. Constant-flow toilet, eh? It's so simple, it'd be hard to think up, if you didn't already know about it. I guess you weren't wasting your time in your engineering courses."

  Cullinane threw back his head and laughed.

  The dwarf glared at him. "What's so funny?"

  The big man shook his head. "Never mind." His expression went vague.

  *Louis, Karl has asked me to tell you that he remembers lending you his copy of Farnham's Freehold, and that he's glad he did.*

  That's nice.

  *And he also said to mention that he won't tell anyone that you swiped the notion of constant-flow toilets from Heinlein. If you build the first one for him and Andrea.*

  Tell him to go to hell. I'm running the construction here, and I'll do as I see fit. He waited for Ellegon to replay the message. Cullinane glared at him for a moment, then relaxed, his hand miming tipping a hat.

  Good. It was best to start things off by letting everyone—Cullinane particularly—know who was in charge of the building.

  "In any case," he went on, "that's the first part of it. The other thing is that the waterfall is in a stand of pines. We can save a lot of effort by building there; even green, pine is good to build with. It's a bit tricky, but I've read about how to use it."

  I'd give any digit you care to name for one-tenth of the library Farnham had. Or even for Robertson's Green Wood Construction. Or the Britannica, or the Rubber Handbook, or anything.

  All that stood between him and all of those books was about five hundred miles of forest, plains, mountains and Waste, plus the warrens surrounding the Gate Between Worlds.

  And The Dragon, guarding the Gate.

  Ellegon snorted. *You had best learn to live without those books, Louis. He is still awake. And will be, for much longer than you will live.*

  Riccetti shuddered. No way was he ever going near The Dragon again. "So we build there," he said. "Agreed?"

  "Sounds right to me," Cullinane nodded. "You were talking about defense. Some sort of castle?"

  "No. We don't have the tools or the manpower for stonework, even if we could find stone worth quarrying. My suggestion is that we go for something like a western fort. It'll look a bit crude, but—"

  Fialt spat. "I am from the west. I was born and raised on Salket. We build with stone there; we are civilized." He was the oldest of the group, a grizzled graybeard of fifty or so.

  Slovotsky chuckled. "Not your west—ours. But it sounds like a lot of work, Lou."

  "It will be. But it should give us some defense. If the colony grows a lot, we won't be able to put all the houses inside, of course, but it still makes sense to have some sort of fortification to retreat to, if necessary. We may not need it, but . . ."

  Chak nodded. "Kharl's plan should keep us relatively safe, as long as he doesn't spend too much time here. But you're right, Richetih: no sense in taking a chance for no payoff."

  Ahira cocked his head to one side. "That's easy for you to say—you're going on this first expedition with Karl; little of the sweat will be from your brow. Not more than a tenday's worth, at best."

  "Damn, but I like your positive attitude, Ahira." The little man smiled. "Pointing out another nice part of Richetih's plan."

  Riccetti spread his hands. "That's the broad outline. If we do it this way, I'll mark out the boundaries in the morning, and we can get right to work. Should be able to have three walls of the palisade up within a—"

  "Palisade?"

  "The outer wall. We'll put a walkway around the inside, around the top. As I was saying, it should be done within two, maybe three tendays. Ahira, you're still the leader. It's up to you." And if you don't want to do it my way, I'd like to hear what idiocy you have in mind.

  Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Why just three-quarters of the wall? It seems to me it'd be more efficient to do the whole thing at one time."

  "No. The gate will be the hard part; by leaving that wall for last, we can have a way of bringing wood in to build the houses and such. We could do the houses first, but I think we'll save some effort by using the palisade as the fourth wall for some of them, and for the grainmill, when we build it. B
esides, we'll want to set up a smithy and make some nails before we do the houses; we can build the palisade walls with just wood and leather.

  "And sweat, of course." He turned to Ahira. "That's my proposal. There'll be lots of details to work out, but it seems to me this is the best way."

  "Any objections?" The dwarf waited silently for a moment. "We'll do it. Lou, you're in charge of construction. Complete charge; you don't ask anyone, you tell them, unless you think you need another opinion. Refer any discipline problems to me." He tapped his thumb against the blade of his battleaxe.

  Cullinane snorted. "That include you?"

  "Lou, if I give you any trouble, you can refer it to Karl."

  *Or me.*

  "Or Ellegon." The dwarf turned to Slovotsky. "Now, Walter, what are your thoughts about crops and animals?"

  Riccetti sat down, barely listening as Slovotsky stood and began to talk about slash-and-burn agriculture, and where he wanted to put the first field.

  For more than four years, Lou Riccetti had been an engineering student in a world that really didn't want things built. The days of great construction had passed from his world; the future of engineering was with piddling little electronic circuits, not big structures, not great things. There would be no more Brooklyn Bridges built, no more Hoover Dams.

  But here, it was different. A world to conquer.

  He smiled.

  I'm going to be building things, he thought, his heart beating audibly in his chest. It's a small start, but it's a start.

  He shook his head. This was ridiculous. Getting all excited about putting together a bunch of log cabins and some stockade fencing? And some sort of smithy, come to think of it. That would have to be done early; the flatbed contained fifty or so pounds of thin nail stock, but no nails. Then again, nailmaking shouldn't require a full-fledged smithy; a hot fire, a bellows, a hammer, and the smallest of the anvils would do. And—

  Ridiculous. It had to be done, granted, but getting excited about it?

  *I disagree.* Ellegon lifted his head from his crossed forelegs, curling and uncurling his wings. *It is not ridiculous, friend Louis. Not if it makes you feel this good.