Moments later the orderly returned. Moving slowly in his wake was the most ancient looking man I'd ever seen. He moved haltingly, in tiny tottering steps, eyes and head bowed permanently toward the floor. Only a few thin strands suggested his head had ever known hair. His skin, wrinkled and pale, showed the effects of years in the mines. The thin layer of flesh which covered his bones had the near transparent quality of aquarium fish.
Alexia waved him to a chair he gratefully accepted. "Tell these officers your story” she instructed without preamble.
The old man drew the back of a pale hand across his nose and mouth, sighed deeply and began. "My name is Bollaresta Mhirk. I came to Voquira almost 50 years ago aboard the captured vessel Flying Fox. My parents warned me of the dangers of a sailor's life but nothing would do me as a young man but a life on the salt. I'd only been with the crew on two short coastal voyages before we were taken. In those days Voquira was ruled by honest pirates, not the dammed Ixtet.” Here he coughed several times and spat in disgust at the thought of the Ixtet. He continued. “Because of my youth--and I like to think... my intelligence--I was assigned to work in the castle and not in the mines. I served three years as part of the household staff before they stopped locking me in each night. Eventually, they came to trust me as much as a slave is ever trusted. My duties were largely cleaning and running errands for Red Ear's household. This took me at one time or other to every room in the castle and I'll gladly share what I know if it will help you kill those cursed Bugs".
Once more he cleared his throat of phlem and spat out his disgust on the rough stone floor.
"The Bugs have taken refuge in the Keep" Alexia told him. "You tell us this is where the only source of fresh water is located. Do you know of any way, perhaps a secret way, by which the keep may be entered? Here she paused and looked at him expectantly.
Although old Bollarestra appeared to be thinking he made no reply. After a few moments she asked again: "Could there be any secret way of entering the keep?"
"Perhaps?. . . I don't know. . . " came the old man's reply. He spread his fingers and ran them liked a wrinkled bird's foot through his few remaining hairs before continuing: "When I first came to the palace there were rumors that Red Ear's middle daughter was having a fling with one of his lieutenants. No one knew for certain but a few months later she was pregnant and he was nowhere to be found. In the bottom floor of the keep is a room in which the well it located. Water is usually drawn upward to a room at ground level by pulleys. This room below ground level and is used mostly for storage. At the end of the room is a rather large roughly woven wall hanging. Once I saw this daughter slip out from behind it. At the time I thought only that she may have been hiding from someone but it is possible that she had been doing more than that." The old man sat quietly for a moment as the assembled officers considered his words.
Alexia broke the silence. "Sub commander Nukor, take up to 8 squads and search every sector above and below the palace for a radius of 300 paces. Search night and day. Search the mines. Search the salt beyond the rock. Search the grounds within the palace. Search every space the size of a child's hand for signs for hidden passages. Report to me every 6 hours".
Nukor nodded understanding, saluted and left the meeting to take up his charge.
"Well spoken Petar" Alexia said, giving me a faint smile that conveyed a world of meaning. She continued "The knowledge of your world may serve well on ours. Is it possible you have thoughts on our water situation as well?
"It is my honor to serve in any way" I replied, hoping I had concealed the real pride I felt that my suggestion met with her approval. Now to see if I could come up with another.
"I understand that there is water at the lowest levels of the mines but that it is too salty for use. It may be possible to remove the salt from the water, or better said, to remove the water from the salt. This distilling is as simple as boiling the water, catching the pure steam which rises and leaves the salt behind. Doing this is simple. Doing it on a large scale in less than three days is not. So many need the water. I will try if you like, or I will work under others more experienced in such matters".
No one at the table moved to say more so I continued. "I would suggest first that we inquire among the troops for any who have experience distilling liquors. I ask also the assistance of Dhars Flonstad and the creature some may know as Lady Camille. She is in fact an alien being with considerable engineering knowledge. Were it not for her assistance we would yet be slaves. I also requests that 10 persons skilled in working with wood and metal stand by until needed.
Alexia was already scribbling an order on a scrap of parchment. "Give this to the Sub commander Prolix stationed near the vessels and he will see that you have what you need. Petar, you know what it is to suffer great thirst. This is a feeling we shall all know again very soon if we do not take the keep or find another source of water. From a military point of view I doubt we could capture the keep in three days. Many would die in any attempt. We know you will do all you can."
With this she rose to meet me, thrust the paper into my hand and simultaneously gave me a warm and totally unexpected hug.
Dhars and I left the meeting then paused outside long enough to review the inventory of available supplies prepared at Alexia’s order. We strode out the main gates and turned left toward the animal pens where Lady Camille was patiently waiting for us. In a few sentences Dhars and I outlined our need for a source of potable water. We also told her that Alexia and the other officers had been informed of her true status. Neither item produced a noticeable change in her generally unflappable demeanor.
After a few minutes discussion we agreed to move forward along two fronts. As governor Dahrs had reviewed requests that the governemnt fund a type of solar still some makers of hard spirits in a fuel starved region had wanted to try. He though he recalled the essential details. He would attempt this project while Lady Camille and I would attempt a more conventional still.
I had an idea where to begin. Once on a tour of the Topkapi palace in Istanbull I had seen enormous metal pots in the kitchen area. These had been used to prepare meals for the Jannisaires and other palace personnel. Palace lore was that when the Sultans personal guard became disgruntled enough to overturn these pots a change in administration was not far off.
Camille and I returned to the palace. We passed a low level officer in a shadowy corridor. When I showed her Dhalia's note she dispatched two of the Threaten regulars to lead us to the kitchen and to assist us as needed. The grounds had been searched but sporadic crossbow fire was still coming from the area of the Keep. To simply cross the courtyard would be to invite a crossbow bolt to one's chest.
We scurried through connecting chambers set against the outer wall until we found what we were looking for. The room perhaps 8 x 12 meters was already occupied with a cook crew preparing meals for the allied forces which were by now quite hungry. This would be their first meal in freedom and the cook crew was striving to make the best of the rough ingredients available to them from castle stores. In the center were sturdy tables where the preparation work was being done Lady spotted our old shipmate and cook, Soltan.
"Soltan, you rascal, I feared you were dead."
"No such luck Petar. I was cast in with the Greens. A quick death would have been better than life with that hopeless group. Had Eripa's forces not organized them and begun a resistance I might well have flung myself down a shaft and ended it. . . I see Lady Camille has fared well" he said giving her the rough husk of a strange vegetable and rubbing her under the chin.
"She and I are both here on a mission of the highest importance. Our water supply is desperately short and the Bugs hold the only well".
"I'm afraid I am not what I have pretended to be" Lady lowed in Soltan's ear.
At this his knees appeared at the point of buckling. I took his arm lest he sink to the stone floor. At the same moment that low clucking sound reached my ears. She was enjoying Soltan surprise if not his actual d
iscomfort.
As he recovered we outlined our mission and gave him more information about Lady's background in engineering. At the conclusion he offered complete cooperation and assistance.
"Let me show you what is here. My ‘crew’ and I at your disposal" (Alexia, had made him head cook!). Look around for anything which might help you"
Lady and I began the tour of the kitchen unused since pirate days. Built into the wall were several cooking areas fitted with spits and with swinging arms to allow enormous pots to be moved. Two of these seemed to be well suited for our purposes. With the help of our escorts we managed to swing them from over the fire pit. I wanted to remove the lids from each and look inside.
On the wall nearby hung a wooden tool which seemed to have been designed for just that purpose. We slid a large wooden bar through the ring in the pot lid until a notch in the middle caught in place. Each of our escorts put a shouder to one end of the bar and swung the lid aside.
The pot was huge, perhaps holding as many as 200 liters. It appeared to be free of holes or cracks. The metal lid had a thick lip to prevent it's accidentally sliding off as the pot was swung in or out on the arm above the fire pit. Lady Camille found the other pot in similar condition.
An hour before sunrise the next morning we joined Alexia, Dhars, Soltan and the cook crew making breakfast for the troops. We lifted our glasses and drank the first--still warm--glasses of distilled water.
Our set up was a "Revenuers" dream. The two largest pots boiled the brine. The massive lids were held in place by their weight alone until the steam pressure reached moderate levels. Above each pot a newly shaped copper tube snaked and coiled through a shallow trough which formerly held water for the penned animals. At opposite ends of the water bath the tubes were let out to barrels that collected the distilled water. A wooden plug, forced into place by a heavily gloved hand, served to stem the flow momentarily as each barrel filled and another was rolled in to replace it.
Even with low pressure steam one must consider the possibility of overloading the system (read that blowing something up and scalding a lot of people). The lids were heavy and well fitted so a safety port was drilled in each lid. Each port was fitted with a metal stopper of sufficient weight to open just before the entire lid would be lifted by the steam. Leaking steam at the edges would be a hazard to those stoking the fires. This safety port warned them to move back and to reduce the heat immediately.
"So you understand all that we have explained?" I asked Soltan and the crew he had organized to keep the pots boiling. It was the forth time Lady and I reviewed instructions. We cautioned about keeping the fire low once the pot was boiling and about not adding too much cold brine at once. For fuel we were using timbers from one of the older vessels laying in poor condition at quayside.
"We understand" Soltan responded. The others quickly tipped their heads back twice times in a gesture confirming their agreement.
"Call us at the first sign of any trouble or even if you have a question" Lady lowed to the leaders of each squad. “No one need tell you the importance or your task. You know well how short our time would be without water.”
We I started off to find a place to sleep. As we walked I calculated that each pot held about 200 liters (400 for the two). I might take 6 to 8 hours of boiling and refilling until they became encrusted with salt and had to be cleaned. Say conservatively. . . 350 liters of water from each double run, then two hours to cool the pots, remove the mineral deposits inside and start them boiling again. With luck we could manage 2 1/2 runs a day. . .call it about 900 liters of water for 1200+ souls. It would not be enough.
"No, it will not be enough" Lady whispered, her head at the level of my ear.
"I must have been thinking aloud, sorry." I replied.
What should have been a joyous time was darkened by the reality that although our distilling operation would postpone the inevitable it could not be expanded. It all came down to fuel supply. We would soon burn through the oldest of the pirate ships. At current production levels the distillation process could not be sustained beyond two dozen days.
As we headed for the stable area Lady and I passed some of those who were counting on us. Some recognized me and called out "Good morrow Petar", "Fine Day", "Have you eaten?" or other greetings. We encountered Verek van Greeb, our expedition survey officer. Like the others he looked exausted but he had survived. Even the wounded had a light of hope in their eyes and voices that had not been there 48 hours before. The uprising had come on a night like no other. Like the Israelites these slaves had their own sort of Passover. Now, they had been freed from bondage. . . .but they would never last 40 years in the desert. Without securing a reliable source of water we wouldn’t last 40 days.
"We must have more fuel to keep the pots boiling", I continued, thinking aloud as much as addressing a question to the Lady.
We were in the middle of a treeless desert of salt. The pirates as well as the Ixtet had occasionally encountered and mined a sort of soft peat. Mostly though, they had heated and cooked the way settlers had as they crossed the great plains of North America. They burned dried droppings. No dropping from miners or animal would be wasted. Some was returned to the glyptron. Some was flattened, dried in the sun and then burned for fuel. The glyptron feasted now on the carcasses of the Ixtet and miner alike. All human waste was currently kept for drying and burning.
I fell onto a pile of rags in the rough shed where Dhars and I had originally taken shelter on the rim of the pit. Sleep did not come quickly. Each time I began to nod I was dragged back by some matter or another that would require attention as soon as I woke.
-----
We found it a week later. An old miner had been probing the salt with a slender rod about 75 meters from the rock face when he found it. Buried beneath no more than the width of a hand beneath the salt was a metal door.
Alexia, had been informed immediately. She ordered that the search patterns continue as if nothing had been found and that no special attention be given to the spot where the door was located. It would not do to have the Ixtet lookouts guess what we had discovered.
Water supplies were stretched to the limit but were holding. Soltan and the cook crew had worked round the clock with the distillation process. Dhars had employed every availalbe inch of oil cloth in his solar stills and we had enough to drink. . .but just enough, not one drop of reserve.
Fuel supplies were becoming a problem and stocks of food were not good. We could not hold out much longer.
At mid morning Alexia met with her commanders in the guard room of the fortress which now served as her headquarters. She had lived and worked there for the past 9 days and she looked it. Like the rest of us she stank. There was no water for washing oneself nor one's clothing. Cleanliness was a luxury that none of us had known for a very long time.
"The moons will rise together less than an hour before dawn tomorrow." Alexia began. "In the hour before moons rise we shall clear the doors and mount an attack on the cursed Ixtet in the Keep. We do not know whether the passage is clear but we have no reason to believe the Bugs even know there is a secret entrance. Surprise is our most vital weapons. Should they suspect what we are doing they might collapse the passageway and block our entrance forever. To send a scout ahead would risk discovery and risk having the Ixtet seal off access. We will risk all on the first strike. Your comments. . ."
There was general agreement that the element of surprise must be retained if at all possible. Sub-commander Nukor would attack through the tunnel while Alexia would personally lead the forces outside the Keep. The attacking party would open access to the interior by lowering the draw bridges or if that failed by lowering knotted ropes from the battlements. Dhars and I were assigned to the party attacking through the tunnel. One of our tasks was to provide light for the group as they made their way.
An hour before departure we had created half a dozen oil burning lamps. The lamp was contained in a pot and vented through baffles so its
light could be closed off while the wick still burned. It could also opened on one side only to direct the light in a single direction. The shiny interiors of the pots would serve, at least once, as an adequate reflector.
Three hours before sunrise we assembled with others in the Nukor’s party. There were 50 of us in all, a regular squad of 4 vann (48) plus Dahrs and me. Six carried the long knotted ropes we would lower from the battlements atop the Keep. Two vann carried crossbows and short swords. One Vann axes, six ropes and lanterns and sidearms, and six longer stabbing spears. The weapons were leftovers from the days when Voquira was a pirate’s stronghold. The hand weapons used by the Ixtet were a poor fit for any but their own kind.
Maybe I had watched too many adventure video's as a kid but I couldn't help thinking about traps and pitfalls in the passage to keep an enemy from gaining easy access to the castle. With this in mind we each had fashioned a long shaft fitted at the end with a tool which could be used alternately to hammer or pry at any surface. Its sharp end would do as a stabbing weapon as well.
Two minutes later we stood before a rod in the sand that marked the location of the hidden entrance. We knew that only the first half its length (about 50 meters) had been explored. Surprise, we hoped, would be more valuable than thorough reconnaissance. We were not even certain the passage connected with the Keep though there was good reason to believe it did.
Two lieutenants pulled heavily at a handle protruding from a square of cracked salt. The door swung wide shedding the salt as it was flung back. The need for secrecy was past. Nukor gave a few last minute words of instruction and encouragement before leading us through the open hatchway and down the ladder to the floor a passage which had not likely been used in 50 years. He signaled “ready” and Dhars and I took the lead as planned.
Dhars cracked open the shutters of his lantern and I followed suit. We began to move cautiously down the steps into the almost total gloom before us, stopping with each step to probe the way ahead with the tools we carried. I was reminded of climbers crossing a glacier. . .probing always for hidden cracks and crevasses. We also scanned walls and ceiling for signs of seams, cracks, signs of hidden hazards.
The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper Page 25
