A Blackbird In Silver (Book 1)

by Freda Warrington

  ‘But we don’t understand… Do you know who those men are who captured us? And how do you come to be rescuing us?’

  The old man looked thoughtful. ‘Those people, we believe, were the crew of a – what would you call it – a merchant ship that fell through an Entrance Point, about three months ago by Earth reckoning. We measure our time by Earth, of course. There are about twelve of them, living in those caves and tunnels. There were more, but their numbers grow fewer as they prey upon each other.

  ‘There are other shafts, like the one down which I brought you, connecting the two sides of the Plane. When we first calculated the humans’ arrival, some of my colleagues went through to help them – only to be attacked and all but two murdered. These men are savages with whom it is impossible to make intelligent contact.’ Hranna’s voice shook. ‘We wanted to help them regain Earth but they wouldn’t let us. Since then they have made several forays down the shaft and seized more of my people. And they keep the opening guarded, so we cannot seal it against them. It is, well – difficult to work in such an atmosphere.’

  ‘How many are there of you?’ asked Ashurek.

  ‘Three thousand, four hundred and twenty-three,’ the old man answered.

  ‘And only twelve of them? Why do you not fight them?’

  ‘We cannot fight. We have never fought, we would not know how. Our bodies are but feeble vehicles for our minds. Our whole existence is devoted to the study of mathematics; we have senses only in order that we may communicate knowledge from one to the other. Our bodies shatter like brittle bones when attacked.

  ‘You see, we are entirely self-sufficient; we do not take in sustenance, nor do we excrete. We were not born, nor are we supposed to die. We have only the physical strength to exist, not to fight for survival.’ Hranna gave them a thoughtful look, then frowned. He waved a greeting to another small, wizened man who sat against a tree, scratching with a stone on a thin white slate.

  At length they saw a dome of filigreed white quartz with an arched entrance; a structure like a cobweb frozen in ice. ‘Here we are,’ said Hranna, ushering them through the doorway. Inside was another of the ancient, pale people, clad in gossamer. ‘Ah, Hranna,’ said the man, ‘so you’ve got them, have you?’

  ‘Yes, Lenarg – it all went to absolute perfection,’ said Hranna.

  ‘Naturally.’ The second old man smiled as he left the dome. ‘I’ll go and set up the – er – device.’

  ‘Do sit down,’ Hranna said, indicating a circular ridge in the floor that served as a bench. They sat gratefully, light-headed and out of breath. ‘Tell me how you came to Hrannekh Ol.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell,’ said Estarinel. ‘We were sailing across the ocean when a storm blew up and swept us through an Entrance Point. We hadn’t been on the plain of ash long before we were captured. Our ship and our three horses are stranded on the other side.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Ashurek said sharply, looking at Hranna with narrowed green eyes. ‘Did I hear you say you could help us regain Earth?’

  ‘Patience, patience,’ Hranna muttered with a quick movement of his hand. ‘Our calculations are accurate, but they take time.’

  ‘What calculations?’ Ashurek asked.

  ‘We are mathematicians – I thought we were well-known on Earth.’

  ‘Perhaps you are, to people like my brother. He was the one who spent all his time in libraries, not me. Are we to understand that you knew of our arrival?’

  ‘Of course!’ the small man exclaimed. ‘Look, let me show you.’ He picked up a thin white slate and with a sharp stone hurriedly scratched a series of figures on it. He handed it to Ashurek, who had to hold the slate carefully to the light to discern the faint numerals. They formed a long, complicated equation with many unfamiliar symbols. Estarinel and Medrian looked over his shoulder. Hranna waited excitedly for their reaction.

  ‘I’m sorry, it means nothing to me,’ said Estarinel.

  ‘Goodness, it is only a simple one!’ Hranna exclaimed. ‘Oh, oh – forgive my rudeness. You obviously do not appreciate what we do. Once a few basic calculations have been made, with the help of our astrolabes and other devices, it is possible to work out, in pure mathematics, the entire history of the Universe.’

  ‘Really.’ Medrian blinked flatly.

  ‘Well, yes.’ Hranna became defensive. ‘Down to the tiniest movement of the smallest particle. The past is easy, for theory is proved in fact, over and over again.’

  More warily she asked, ‘What of the future?’

  ‘If you know where objects, bodies or particles have been, you know their trajectory. You can calculate where they are going. You have seen we predicted the merchant ship’s arrival, and yours, which is how we were able to rescue you. This is our work. We have an ever increasing library of such computations as this.’

  ‘So you could tell us what will happen to us?’ Ashurek inquired, skepticism masking the pain in his voice.

  ‘If you wish, yes,’ the little man said hesitantly. ‘There are always random factors, of course…’ He fluttered like a white moth, then selected a number of thin slates from a shelf that circled the dome wall. Each was covered in the faint, scratchy symbols, forming equation after equation. Ashurek suspected that even a skilled Gorethrian mathematician would have been at a loss to interpret them.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Estarinel asked at last.

  ‘Ah – what it says,’ answered Hranna, pointing at the slates. Sensing the loss of communication with the three humans, he sighed. ‘I can’t phrase it in any way other than in mathematical terms.’

  ‘So you cannot actually tell us what will happen?’ Ashurek said acidly.

  ‘Only if you can understand our physics. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Medrian said quietly. ‘I did not want to know.’

  ‘Well, with Earth’s future we have predicted the presence of strong random factors. We have yet to identify them all, so the alternative computations could run into thousands. It is a marvellous project!’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Ashurek. ‘Meanwhile, this talk is not helping us. Estarinel is wounded and we are all three weak with thirst. Have you no food or water?’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Hranna replied slowly and thoughtfully, ‘but as I told you, we need neither food nor water to live. There is little free water on either side of the Plane; most is trapped in the crystalline structures…’

  ‘I have no wish to threaten you,’ the Gorethrian interrupted, abruptly menacing, ‘but we will die if we stay here. We must return to Earth, very quickly. Do you understand?’

  Hranna shrank back, looking dismayed. ‘Er – er, yes, of course. I apologise if I seem a little abstracted. We find it difficult to adjust to non-theoretical matters. Lenarg is already making the calculations that will return you to Earth. I will see how he is doing.’ And he fluttered hurriedly from the cobweb dome into the pale forest beyond.

  How long it was before the Peradnians returned, Ashurek was not sure. It may have been one hour, or two. He wandered aimlessly round the dome. His tongue was dry and swollen and he felt ill from lack of water. Estarinel had gone white and sat with closed eyes. He had been losing blood from his shoulder. Medrian’s dark gaze roved around the dome and an unhealthy colour rose in her cheeks, making her look feverish. Ashurek blinked. It was difficult even to keep his eyes open. The air dried them. A few hours in this place were the equivalent of days in a desert. Ashurek sat down, closed his eyes, and tried to think.

  Hranna eventually returned, with a train of ancient Peradnians curious to see the humans. The three stirred tiredly as he approached.

  ‘We have worked with mathematical instruments and located an Exit Point back to Earth. However,’ Hranna went on as they brightened, ‘the Exit Point is unfortunately on the other side. We will direct you to another shaft… one that brings you out into the open, obviously…’

  ‘Very well,’ said Ashurek. ‘Let us be on our way.’

  H
e began to leave but Hranna caught his arm, tiny beside the tall warrior. ‘Wait – ah – as you will be going that way, you could seal the shaft for us.’

  The Peradnians rolled forwards a thick white disc of rock. ‘All you need do is to jam it into the tunnel at the correct point. It is so designed that the humans could never remove it from their side. And they will all be dead in a few weeks, anyway, as calculated by Earth’s…’

  ‘At the moment they are very much alive,’ said Ashurek. ‘Presumably we will be attacked, as you were.’

  ‘Yes, I expect you will.’ Hranna rubbed his cheek, frowning. ‘It is the only way we can help. You cannot go back into the cave, for that is a trap, and if you walk miles to the next shaft you may die before you reach it.’

  Ashurek glowered at the man, but Estarinel said, ‘Any hope is better than none.’

  ‘I agree,’ Medrian said with a faint laugh.

  Then Hranna handed them a pointed stone attached to strong silky thread. ‘When you reach the other side, suspend this from your hand. Whichever direction it points, follow that path. The stone follows the axis along which the Exit Point is moving, like a magnet in a compass. Let it guide you. Now we will take you to the shaft.’

  Again they were led through the strange white forest, this time to the mouth of a smaller shaft. Before they set off down it, Hranna looked sadly at them.

  ‘People of Earth have been here before. Some have died of dehydration, some have gone back. But it has always been the same: the lack of communication between us has stopped us helping each other. We cannot express what we know except in figures, and they cannot interpret our equations. Once, some Earth mathematicians worked with us to learn our algebra, but I presume that when they died, their work was abandoned. If only you, back on Earth, would initiate that work again!’ His thin hands danced. ‘Perhaps then we would know why the Planes exist – why the Earth exists. Otherwise what is the White Plane but a wafer of crystal stretched across infinity?’

  ‘Why not come back to Earth with us?’ Estarinel asked, feeling warmth towards the tiny, ancient mathematician.

  ‘Oh no, far too wet,’ Hranna chuckled. ‘You must go now – I bid you farewell. I’ve so much work to do…’ Even as-they began to thank him, his small, pale figure was retreating through the crystalline trees.

  Dizziness struck them again as they entered the shaft, but this time they were ready. They began the long walk back to the other side, Ashurek rolling the disc of stone which, although it came up to his shoulder, was eerily light for its size. Then came Estarinel with the lodestone, then Medrian.

  Physically exhausted as they were, the walk took even longer; three or four hours at least. At last they came to a place in the tunnel, in view of the opening, where the disc wedged itself between floor and ceiling and would roll no further.

  ‘This is the point,’ Ashurek said. They slid past the disc and, together, slowly forced it round upon its axis until it filled the shaft. Ashurek flung himself against it, but the barrier was solid. No return to the safe side of the Plane.

  ‘Good,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Now prepare yourselves. The tunnel mouth is ahead and we are unarmed.’

  When they stumbled to the end, there were none of the pale humans to be seen. The danger that Hranna had feared was non-existent. With relief they climbed out dizzily onto the choking ash.

  ‘Now, Estarinel, the lodestone,’ said the dark Gorethrian.

  ‘The horses,’ the Forluinishman answered. ‘First we rescue the horses.’

  #

  On the far side of the White Plane Hrannekh Ol, Lenarg scratched upon his slate. Hranna looked over his shoulder. ‘They should reach the Exit Point here–’ he wrote an explanatory theorem, and Hranna nodded. ‘And Earth here–’

  ‘I see,’ Hranna said. Lenarg’s hand moved rapidly on, but he paused, crossed out his previous calculation, and wrote more feverishly than before. He sketched a graph with one axis labelled t for time, stone squealing on stone as he drew a parabola. ‘Of course, of course!’ he cried; then, ‘Oh no…’

  The slate fell from his hand and smashed on the ground.

  Hranna started. ‘What is it? I missed the last part.’

  ‘I never even thought – their ship was from the Blue Plane. They should have returned to it – they should have stayed on board all along – oh dear–’

  ‘Are we too late to tell them? Yes, of course we are.’ Hranna sat down on a rock. ‘So we have set them onto the wrong course. We are only supposed to work out the Earth’s fate, not influence it. How embarrassing.’

  ‘Perhaps we are the random factor,’ mused Lenarg. ‘It would make our predictions much easier if we were.’

  ‘No, it would not,” Hranna said with a sigh. ‘It would make them infinitely impossible. Don’t engage in speculation of that sort. There is no place for egotism in our calculus.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. It’s grievous to think we could make such a mistake.’

  ‘But unavoidable, perhaps. We think our theories are uncontaminated by our selves… but those folk of Earth came to us, so of course our interaction with them changed their course, as every interaction does.’

  Lenarg threw his writing stone on the ground. ‘And there are no equations to describe good intentions going awry. Oh dear. Hranna, what have we done?’

  Chapter Six. Whither the Lodestone Pointed

  They were near the low ridge that they had climbed when they first came to Hrannekh Ol. All that identified it was the white star of their ship’s centre mast shining beyond it. They ran as best they could through the thick ash to the ridge’s highest point.

  What met their eyes was the sight of several Morrenish clambering about on The Star of Filmoriel’s decks like white ants. As they watched, five men came up from the hold, carrying various objects. The captain, supervising the rest, stood arrogantly on deck, prodding at the planks with his spear. Then he shouted a command. His voice did not carry far in the dusty atmosphere but they could just make out the words. ‘When we've sorted out all the goods we’ll dismantle the ship.’

  Estarinel felt sick.

  ‘So,’ said Ashurek, ‘the shaft is unguarded because they are all down there looting the ship. We would do best to find the horses as quickly as we can, while they’re still busy.’

  ‘Wait,’ Medrian said, laying a hand on Estarinel’s arm. ‘Estarinel, hold up the lodestone.’ He did so. It pivoted on its thread and came to rest pointing on a line straight past the ship. ‘That’s the end of our luck; we can’t walk past the ship unseen.’

  ‘First things first,’ replied Estarinel. ‘Let’s find the animals.’

  They retraced their steps to the Morrenish ghost ship and entered, for a second time, the tunnel in the rock. It was deserted. They made their way to the entrance to their former prison to retrieve their weapons.

  Their belongings had gone. The door was still sealed.

  ‘Do the Morrenish think we are still in there?’ Estarinel whispered.

  They walked deeper into a maze of round white passages, until they reached a junction of three tunnels. ‘Suppose we separate,’ Ashurek said, ‘and meet there.’ He indicated a shallow recess a few yards away. The others assented, and each went on alone.

  As Estarinel walked he caught glimpses of caverns that were used as living quarters. He looked for weapons, and listened keenly for any sound of the horses. Presently he found a cavern that appeared to be a storeroom, and cautiously entered.

  It was a place of death. A small, high-roofed cave, it was littered with the soft white robes and strange sparrow-like bones of the Peradnians. There were crumpled heaps of parchment; scattered wooden crates; a pile of translucent membrane reminiscent of human skin. His stomach turned. They stored the remains of living entities along with hoards of rubbish as if it were all the same…

  At last Estarinel found something that was useful; a short steel knife with a padded handle of blue velvet. The blue was a spark of colour so
unusual in the endless whiteness that it shone like a star. Estarinel seized it.

  Then he heard voices. He dived behind a pile of boxes and waited.

  Three men came in, laden with the ship’s provisions, which they dumped without ceremony in the middle of the cavern.

  ‘Grab those iron bars,’ said the leader who’d captured them. ‘We’re going to rip the ship apart. And you–’ he ordered one of his men, ‘Go and see to those horses. They can’t be left much longer, or they’ll be dead of thirst.’

  Estarinel’s eyes widened at this. The man who was to tend the horses left, but the other two seemed to take forever, rummaging in the piles of junk. At last they too left.

  Estarinel crept to the cave entrance and started off down the tunnel, moving quickly and lightly. At last he had the man in sight, and tailed him for a few minutes, pressed close to the tunnel wall. He saw the opening to another cave ahead.

  He heard the sudden clop of hooves echoing through the passages. Medrian emerged from the cave, leading their three horses. She came out cautiously but the Morrenish warrior saw her, and pounced. He wrapped one arm tightly about her throat, his other hand twisting her arm behind her back. She struggled. He grunted as her elbow stabbed into his stomach, but held her tight.

  Estarinel ran towards them, gripping the knife. He dealt one sharp stab into the neck. The man died almost instantly. Collapsing to the floor, he dragged Medrian with him, a thin pulsing trickle of scarlet running from the wound.

  Medrian extricated herself from the corpse and hurriedly recaptured the horses who were shying back into the cave. She looked at Estarinel with a mixture of relief and irony in her black eyes – but he was staring at the knife in his hand, blank and shaken to the core.

  ‘Oh gods, what have I done?’ he muttered.

  ‘Saved my life, I think.’

  Medrian sounded puzzled. She frowned as if taken aback by the horror in his eyes.

  ‘I know it’s difficult, but put this out of your mind,’ she said briskly, pushing Shaell’s rope into his hand.