“Where will you do this?” Chegaoo said.
“We don’t know yet,” O’Brien said. “Somewhere near the river, probably not far from our camp. We do not need a lot of land.”
Chegaoo spoke a few sentences, and a minute of discussion between Lamochattee and Chiggilli followed. At last, the chief spoke a brief sentence.
“The chief agrees in principle to the deal,” Chegaoo said. “He would like to see the rig, and also what else you have to offer him.”
“That sounds reasonable to me,” O’Brien said, and Chegaoo translated. Chiggilli spoke again.
“The chief says it is time to eat,” Chegaoo said.
“I won’t argue with that,” O’Brien replied.
Chapter Twenty
O’Brien, Dorian, Chegaoo, Lamochattee, Asger and Bjorn spent the next week surveying the land along the river for two miles north and south of their camp, attempting to find the optimal location for the oil well. Asger and Bjorn were along primarily to provide protection from the local wildlife, in particular the cougars that roamed the area. According to Lamochattee, rival Indian tribes were known to hunt along the river, and some of them wouldn’t think twice about attacking a small band of foreigners.
The party was well-prepared for the survey: in addition to the historical records of oil well locations and a map showing the reach of the oilfield that underlay the gulf coast, they had Lamochattee’s knowledge of local sources of oil to rely on. He showed them several places where a layer of rainbow-colored swirls lay on top of swamp water. O’Brien noted that the mosquitoes that plagued them throughout their travels along the river were far less prevalent in these areas. This was, Lamochattee confirmed, one of the primary uses of ahama: the Indians rubbed it on their skin as insect repellent.
Now painfully aware of the settler’s reliance on Chegaoo, O’Brien took the opportunity while the surveying party traversed the pine forest to probe their Mi’kmaq guide on his disposition regarding their circumstances. In particular, he was hoping to determine whether Chegaoo’s kinship with the natives might outweigh his loyalty to the pale men from across the sea. He aimed for subtlety, but Chegaoo understood his purpose immediately.
“What tribe are you from, O’Brien?” Chegaoo asked him, in response to O’Brien’s vague musings about the relations between the various peoples of the river valley.
“I don’t have a tribe exactly,” O’Brien said. “I work for the IDL.”
“In your time, all people are part of the Eidejel.”
“More or less. We don’t really have a choice. We fight with the IDL or we die at the hands of the Cho-ta’an.”
“But Aengus tells me you are Irish, as he is.”
“Oh. Well, yes. My name is Irish. But that just means that three hundred years ago, a relative on my father’s side came from Ireland.”
“Do you know that the English did to the Irish, around the time that they were sending their first expeditions to my land?”
“I, uh, have some idea,” O’Brien said. Aengus must have told him more about seventeenth-century history than he had let on.
“They slaughtered your people, replaced your leaders with their own, and tried to extinguish your language and your religion.”
“As I say, that was a long time ago.”
“You do not harbor ill will against the English?”
“The English no longer exist as a people in my time. Nor, for that matter, do the Irish.”
“You are all Eidejelans now,” Chegaoo said, using the name the agents of Pleiades—Norse, Frankish, Irish or other—used for themselves.
“I suppose that’s true. There remain political and cultural divisions, but yes, we’re all Eidejelans.”
“And Aengus, too, is Eidejelan, despite having been born a thousand years before the founding of Eidejel.”
“In spirit, yes.”
“In spirit,” Chegaoo repeated, with a wry grin. “As if there could be any other way. One thing I have learned, speaking with Eidejelans, is that you think of time as an arrow, following a straight path. The Eidejelans, of course, are at the tip of the arrowhead. Is this not strange?”
“What do you mean?”
“What an odd coincidence that your people happen to be at the tip of the arrow, and all other peoples exist behind you, in the past.”
“But that’s… I mean, that’s literally how time works. We come from the distant future. If you represent time as a line, with the known future at one end, we’re at that end.”
“And yet, your own experience tells you otherwise. The arrow has turned back on itself. The future is now a past. Time is a circle.”
“I don’t know how much Aengus told you, but let me assure you, what happened with our ship was a special case. Never in recorded history has anything like that ever happened before.”
Chegaoo laughed. “Eidejelans are good at talking and making theories, but not so good at listening. Never has history folded back on itself but the one time? You might as well say that only once has the horizon connected with itself. Time is a circle. You are not from the end of the arrow, O’Brien. You and I are both from the middle.”
“You think we are fools to try to change the future.”
“I would not have joined you if I thought you were fools,” Chegaoo said. “What I am saying is that you misunderstand your own mission. You portray yourselves as castaways from a distant land called Eidejel, exiled for a time in our world. You tell a lie, thinking we will not understand the truth. But we understand what you do not: Eidejel is not a place, but an idea. A spirit.”
“It’s an acronym,” O’Brien said. “IDL. It stands for Interstellar Defense League. It’s not some kind of idealized realm or even a real place. It’s just an ad hoc alliance of governments against a common threat.”
Chegaoo shook his head. “This is the problem. You break something into pieces and think that you have understood it. When was Eidejel founded?”
“2126,” O’Brien said, recalling the date from his schooling on the beginnings of the war with the Cho-ta’an.
“And yet, it is the year 906 by your reckoning, and we are Eidejelans. How can this be?”
“I get it. Time is a circle.”
“Time is a circle, and what you call the Interstellar Defense League is an imperfect realization of an idea. A manifestation of spirit, corrupted by its contact with the material world. That spirit has always existed, and we are all a part of it. Eidejel.”
“You’re saying Eidejel has existed since the beginning of time.”
“Time has no beginning. Time is. Eidejel is. Do you know where humans come from, O’Brien?”
“I am familiar with Native American creation stories,” O’Brien said cautiously. “My own people have a different explanation.”
Chegaoo acted as if he hadn’t heard O’Brien. “My grandfather taught me that the world was created by Kisu’lk, the Great Spirit,” he said. “Kisu’lk created the sun and the Earth and all the animals and plants upon it. Then Kisu’lk caused a bolt of lightning to strike the Earth, forming the image of a human body from sand. This was Kluskap, the first man.”
O’Brien nodded politely, listening as the two made their way side-by-side through the woods.
Chegaoo went on, “Kisu’lk unleashed another bolt of lightning, which gave life to Kluskap, but Kluskap could not yet move. He was stuck to the ground, watching the sun travel across the sky every day. His head was faced the direction of the rising sun, his feet were the direction of the setting sun, his right hand was pointed north, and his left hand pointed south.
“Kluskap watched the animals, the birds and the plants grow and pass around him. He asked Kisu’lk to give him freedom to move about the world. So Kisu’lk send a third bolt of lightning, which released Kluskap and allowed him to stand on the surface of the Earth.
“After Kluskap stood up, he turned around in a full circle seven times. He then looked toward the sky and gave thanks to Creator for giving him life. He looke
d down and gave thanks to Wsitqamu’k for offering its sand for his creation. He looked within himself and gave thanks to Kisu’lk for giving him his soul and spirit. Kluskap then gave thanks to the four directions, starting in the direction of sunrise, and following the sun: East, South, West and North. There were seven directions in all, and he gave thanks for each of them.
“Kluskap then went out to explore the world, to see what he might learn about where he lived. After traveling for a long time, observing the sun and the moon and the animals and all the world, he asked Kisu’lk to tell him the purpose of his existence. He was told that he would meet someone soon.
“One day Kluskap came upon a very old woman, who introduced herself as Nukumi. She said to Kluskap, ‘I am your grandmother.’ Kluskap asked the old woman how she arrived in the world. Nukumi said that she owed her existence to the rock, the dew and Naku’set, the Sun. She went on to explain that on one chilly morning a rock became covered with dew because it was sitting in a low valley. As the sun rose, the rock got warm and then hot. It turned into Nukumi, who came into being already very wise and knowledgeable. She told Kluskap that he would gain spiritual strength by listening to and having great respect for his grandmother.”
“I don’t understand,” said O’Brien. “How could Nukumi be Kluskap’s grandmother, when he was formed out of sand by a lightning bolt?”
Chegaoo smiled. “That is a very Eidejelan question, O’Brien.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that you are always looking for the order of things. You want one thing to lead to another, because you think time is an arrow. But I have told you: time is a circle.”
“So Kluskap has always existed, and his grandmother, Nukumi, has always existed? But you told me how each of them came to be.”
“What I told you is to what each of them owes their existence,” Chegaoo said. “You understood that to mean that there was a time when Kluskap did not exist, but that is not important to the story. What is important is that Kluskap was created by Naku’set, and that Nukumi is Kluskap’s grandmother. I understand this is difficult for you to understand, just as it was difficult for me to understand when Aengus told me apes were the ancestors of humanity. To me, apes are apes and humans are humans.”
“But we know that humans are descended from apes.”
“You know a great many things that I do not,” Chegaoo said. “But you have forgotten where you come from. You did not come from apes.”
“Scientifically speaking, I did. We all did.”
“You are descended from apes. You did not come from apes.”
“I’m not sure I understand the difference.”
“That is because you can think in terms of one thing leading to another. You think that apes led to primitive humans, such as myself. Primitive humans led to more advanced civilizations, such as Aengus’s. These advanced civilizations will ultimately result in your people, the height of humanity. But that is only one way to look at things. You have seen that time is a circle, and you feel lost, because an arrow cannot turn back on itself.”
Chegaoo was silent for a moment, and then continued: “My people believe that the Great Fire is the source of human civilization. Kluskap foretold that after the passing of seven winters, seven sparks will fly from the fire, and when they land on the ground seven men will come to life. Seven more sparks will land on the ground and seven women will come into existence. They will form seven families, which would disperse into seven different directions from the area of the Great Fire. Kluskap said that once the seven families reached their destinations, they would further divide into seven groups. After the passing of seven winters, each of the seven groups would return to the place of the Great Fire. There all the people would dance, sing and drum in celebration of their continued existence.
O’Brien sighed. “You know, I started this conversation in an attempt to assess your loyalty, and I’m more confused now than when we started.”
Chegaoo smiled. “That is because you did not understand what you were asking. You wanted to know if my loyalty to my own people outweighs my loyalty to your tribe. But the seven families are all one, O’Brien. I am Mi’kmaq and Aengus is Irish, and the others are from Denmark or Iceland. But we are all one tribe. We are all Eidejel.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Theo was brooding in his study when Theodora came home. Hearing her come in, he ran downstairs to greet her.
“Any news from your dashing privateer?” he asked.
“I missed you too, love,” Theodora said. “Yes, Sebastian’s ship arrived yesterday.”
“And?”
“The news is not good, I’m afraid. Sebastian’s ship waited at Edinburgh for three days, but Osric did not return. Sebastian sent two men to the mine and observed Osric working there, along with many Norsemen. After another four days, a Norse ship arrived—one of the cargo vessels they call a karve, he said. Osric was taken aboard, and the men hurried back to Sebastian to inform him. Sebastian put to sea and happened to catch sight of the karve heading southeast. He followed the karve south and then west along the Norman coast. They made port at some Danish hamlet, but by the time Sebastian’s men could get to shore, the priest was nowhere to be seen. The locals feigned that they could not understand Sebastian, who speaks perfect Frankish, as well as Castilian and Latin, and he dared not confront the crew of the karve for fear that the whole town would join in the fight against his twenty men. The next day the karve embarked again, heading north toward Norway. Sebastian’s ship followed them up the coast into hostile waters, although he was convinced Osric had been spirited away at the hamlet and was now probably a thousand miles away. Along the coast of Norway, he was set upon by three Norse ships, and only escaped thanks to a fortunate change in the wind. He turned the ship around and returned post-haste to Ostia.”
“With a load of nothing,” Theo groused. “What did this fool’s errand cost me?”
“You can afford it, dear. And it wasn’t entirely fruitless. We have some evidence to support the demon’s account. We know now that whoever owns the mine has a broad reach and is wary of being watched.”
“You think the demon is telling the truth.”
“I think the demon—if that is truly what it is—continues to provide information that is accurate to some degree, for its own purposes. Whatever these people are doing, we can’t afford to remain ignorant of it.”
“We have more pressing concerns than earth-digging machines and shadowy conspiracies in the north Atlantic.”
“Men with such power are potentially a threat to our control of Rome. Whatever they are up to, they are not likely to content themselves with remote hideouts and covert coalmines. They act in secret now, but when they are ready, they will make themselves known, and if we wait until then to act, it will be too late. Conversely, if we can ally with them or abscond with the men who built that machine, we will have an advantage over our enemies.”
“Do you imagine we’ll be engaged in an earth-digging contest with the Saracens?”
“Use your head, Theo. Imagine how quickly one could build ramparts with such a machine. For that matter, imagine the Saracens attempting to defend their own battlements against such a machine. The way the demon described it, it was like a house that crawled on steel treads. Impervious to arrows and too mobile to be accurately targeted by trebuchets. The Saracens would watch helplessly as that great steel arm tore apart their walls. Just think: a resurgent Roman Empire, with those machines rumbling ahead of our legions.”
“I think you are overstating the machine’s offensive uses,” Theo said. “It’s an earth-digging machine, not a war machine.”
Theodora sighed dramatically. “You have no imagination, Theo. It’s an earth-digging machine because that’s what the Dwarves needed. It could easily be adapted to other purposes.”
“Did you say ‘the Dwarves’?”
“Oh! I didn’t tell you my theory. A few years ago, one of my sources in Normandy mentioned rumors
of strange men engaging in mysterious dealings in several towns along the coast and the Seine. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but six weeks ago I received a remarkably similar account of such rumors circulating in Saxony. Both men are level-headed, the first a priest and the second a moneylender; neither are prone to repeating unfounded rumors. I made some inquiries in Britain, Saxony and Friesland and turned up several more accounts. According to the rumors, the men are burly, bearded and secretive. They are said to have steel weapons of very good make. I’ve taken to calling them Dwarves in my head.”
Theo frowned. “The people of the north have lapsed into superstition since Rome’s influence waned.”
“Still, the remarkable consistency of the rumors interests me. Setting aside the accounts of babies being eaten, two-headed cattle being born in the wake of their visits, and the like, I’m left with a story that follows a consistent pattern: the men are said to come into a town in groups of three to ten—enough to defend themselves, but not so many as to raise the fear of an attack. They dress in clothes that are plain but clearly of high quality. Sometimes they wear chain mail of very fine make hidden under their clothes. Speaking in strangely accented Frankish, they ask around the town until they locate a merchant of some sort. It seems their purpose in coming to these towns is to procure some good or other. Sometimes it is bolts of linen. Sometimes it is grain. Sometimes it is lamp oil.”
“Your sources inform you whenever strangers visit a town looking for lamp oil or linen?”
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