by Bob Shaw
He went to his waiting carriage, nodding to the driver as he climbed in. The vehicle moved off immediately, drawn by the four bluehorns which were a symbol of Cassyl's elevated status in Kolcorron. Until less than five years ago it had been forbidden by law to have a carriage which required more than one bluehorn, because the animals were so necessary to the developing economy of the planet, and even now teams of four were something of a rarity.
The equipage had been a gift from the Queen and it was politic for him to use it when going to visit her, even though his wife and son sometimes bantered with him about growing soft. He always took their criticism in good part, even though he had begun to suspect that he was indeed becoming too fond of luxury and pampered ways of living. The restlessness and craving for adventure which had characterized his father seemed to have skipped a generation and manifested themselves in the young Toller. On a number of occasions he had come close to falling out with the boy over his recklessness and his outmoded habit of wearing a sword, but he had never pressed matters too far. In the back of his mind there had always lurked the idea that he was acting out of jealousy of the hero worship Toller accorded his long-dead grandfather.
The thought of his son reminded Cassyll that the boy had been commander of the airship which had arrived only the previous aftday with advance dispatches from the Land expedition. In theory the contents of the dispatches were secret, but Cassyl's secretary had already been able to pass him the word that the Old World had been found to be uninhabited and free of the deadly strain of ptertha which had forced humanity to flee across the interplanetary void. Queen Daseene had been quick to call a meeting of selected advisers, and the fact that Cassyll was required to attend was an indication of the direction in which her thoughts were turning. Manufacture was his field of expertise, and in this context the concept of manufacturing led inexorably towards skyships—which implied that Daseene wanted to reclaim the Old World and thus become the first ruler in history to extend her sway to two planets.
Cassyll had an instinctive distaste for the notion of conquest, reinforced by the fact that his father had died in a monumentally futile attempt to claim the third planet of the local system, but in this case none of the usual philosophical or humanitarian restraints applied. Overland's sister world belonged to his people by right of birth, and if there was no indigenous population to be subjugated or slaughtered he could see no moral objection to a second interplanetary migration. As far as he was concerned, the only questions would relate to scale. How many skyships would Queen Daseene want, and how soon would she need them?
Toller will want to take part in the expedition, Cassyll thought. The crossing is bound to have its dangers, but that will only serve to make him more determined to go.
The carriage soon reached the river and turned west in the direction of the Lord Glo Bridge, which was the principal crossing for the palace. In the few minutes that he was on the curving boulevard Cassyll saw two steam-driven carriages, neither of which had been produced by his own factory, and again he found himself wishing he had more time for practical experimentation with that form of transport. There were many improvements yet to be made, particularly with regard to power transmission, but all his time seemed to be taken up with the administration of the Maraquine industrial empire.
As the carriage was crossing the ornate bridge the palace came into view directly ahead, a rectangular block which was rendered asymmetrical by the east wing and tower which Daseene had recently built as a memorial to her husband. The guards at the main gate saluted as Cassyll passed through. Only a few vehicles were waiting in the main forecourt at this early hour, and at once he noticed the official Sky Service coach which was used by Bartan Drumme, senior technical adviser to the Chief of Aerial Defense. To his surprise, he saw that Bartan himself was loitering by the coach. At the age of fifty, Drumme still retained a lean and wiry figure, and only a slight stiffness in his left shoulder— the result of an old battle wound—prevented him from moving like a young man. A whisper of intuition told Cassyll that Bartan was waiting to see him in advance of the official meeting.
"Good foreday!" Cassyll called out as he stepped down from his carriage. "I wish I could afford the time to dawdle around and take the air."
"Cassyll!" Bartan smiled as he came forward to shake hands. The years had scarcely altered the boyishness of his round face. Its permanent expression of humorous irreverence often deceived people who were meeting him for the first time into thinking he was an intellectual lightweight, but over the years Cassyll had learned to respect him for his mental agility and toughness.
"Are you waiting to see me?" Cassyll said.
"Very good!" Bartan replied, raising his eyebrows. "How did you know?"
"You were as furtive as an urchin dallying by the bakery window. What is it, Bartan?"
"Let's walk for a minute—there is time before the meeting." Bartan led the way into an empty quarter of the forecourt where they were partially screened from view by a bed of spearblooms.
Cassyll began to chuckle. "Are we going to conspire against the throne?"
"In a way it is almost as serious as that," Bartan said, coming to a halt. "Cassyll, you know that my position is officially described as scientific adviser to the head of the Sky Service. But you also know that—simply because I survived the Farland expedition—I'm somehow expected to have a magical awareness of all that goes on in the heavens and to advise her Majesty of anything of import, anything which might constitute a threat to the realm."
"Suddenly you make me uneasy," Cassyll said. "Is this anything to do with Land?"
"No—another planet."
"Farland! Say what you've got to say, man! Out with it!" Cassyll felt a coolness on his brow as the dread thought heaved in his mind. Farland was the third planet of the local system, orbiting at roughly twice the distance from the sun as the Land-Overland pair, and throughout most of Kolcorron's history it had been nothing more than an insignificant green speck amid the splendors of the night sky. Then, twenty-six years ago, a bizarre set of circumstances had led to a single ship venturing out from Overland and crossing millions of miles of hostile vacuum to reach the outer world. The expedition had been ill-fated—Cassyll's father had not been the only one to die on that dank, rainy planet—and three of its members had returned to the home world with disturbing news.
Farland was inhabited by a race of humanoids whose technology was so advanced that they had the capability of annihilating the Overlanders' civilization at a stroke. It was fortunate indeed for the humans that the Farlanders were an insular, inward-looking race with no interest in anything beyond the perpetual cloud-cover of their own world. That attitude of mind had been difficult for the territorially acquisitive humans to comprehend. Even after years had merged into decades with no sign of aggression from the enigmatic third planet, the fear of a sudden devastating attack from the skies had continued to lurk in some Overlanders' minds. It was, as Cassyll Maraquine had just discovered, never far beneath the surface of their thoughts. . . .
"Farland?" Bartan gave him a strange smile. "No—I'm talking of yet another planet. A fourth planet."
In the silence that followed, Cassyll studied his friend's face as though it were a puzzle to be solved. "This isn't some manner of jest, is it? Are you claiming to have discovered a new planet?"
Bartan nodded unhappily. "I didn't discover it personally. It wasn't even one of my technicians. It was a woman—a copyist in the records office at the Grain Quay—who pointed it out to me."
"What does it matter who actually saw it first?" Cassyll said. "The point is that you have a really interesting scientific discovery to—" He broke off as he realized he had not yet been told the whole story. "Why do you look so glum, old friend?"
"When Divare told me about the planet she said it was blue in color, and that made me think she could have made a mistake. You know how many blue stars there are in the sky—hundreds of them. So I asked her what size of telescope was needed to
see it properly, and she said a very small one would do. In fact, she said it could be seen well with the naked eye.
"And she was right, Cassyll. She pointed it out to me last night... a blue planet. . . quite easy to see without optical aid . . . low in the west soon after sunset. ..."
Cassyll frowned. "And you checked it with a telescope?"
"Yes. It showed an appreciable disk even with an ordinary nautical instrument. It's a planet, all right."
"But . . ." Cassyll's bafflement increased. "Why has it not been noticed before now?"
Bartan's strange smile returned. "The only answer I can think of is that it wasn't there to be observed before now."
"That goes against everything we know about astronomy, doesn't it? I have heard that new stars appear now and then, even if they don't last very long, but how can another world simply materialize in our skies?"
"Queen Daseene is bound to ask me that selfsame question," Bartan said. "She will also ask me how long it has been there, and I'll have to say I don't know; and she will then ask me what should be done about it, and I'll have to say I don't know that either; and then she will start wondering about the value of a scientific adviser who doesn't know anything. ..."
"I think you're fretting too much on that score," Cassyll said. "The Queen is quite likely to regard it as nothing more than a mildly interesting astronomical phenomenon. What makes you think the blue planet poses any threat to us?"
Bartan blinked several times. "It's a feeling I have. An instinct. Don't tell me you're not disturbed by this thing."
"I'm deeply interested in it—and I want you to show the planet to me tonight—but why should I feel any sense of alarm?"
"Because ..." Bartan glanced at the sky as though seeking inspiration. "Cassyll, it isn't right! It's unnatural ... an omen . . . There is something afoot."
Cassyll began to laugh. "But you're the least superstitious person I know! Now you are talking as though this errant world has appeared in the firmament for the sole purpose of persecuting you."
"Well ..." Bartan gave a reluctant smile, reclaiming his youthful appearance. "Perhaps you're right. I suppose I should have gone to you immediately. It wasn't until Berise died that I realized how much I depended on her to keep me on an even keel."
Cassyll nodded sympathetically, as always finding it difficult to accept that Berise Drumme had been dead for four years. Black-haired, vivacious, indomitable, Berise had given the impression that she would live forever, but she had been swept away within hours by one of those mysterious, sourceless ailments which brought it home to medical practitioners just how little they knew.
"It was a big blow to all of us," Cassyll said. "Are you drinking?"
"Yes." Bartan detected the concern in Cassyll's eyes and touched his arm. "But not the way I was doing when I first met your father. I wouldn't betray Berise in that way. A glass or two of wryberry in the evening is enough for me these days."
"Come to my house tonight and bring a good telescope with you. We'll have a beaker of something warming and take a look at it. . . There's another job for you—we'll need a name for this mysterious world." Cassyll slapped his friend on the back and nodded towards the arched entrance of the palace, signifying that it was time to go in for their meeting with the Queen.
Once inside the shady building they went straight to the audience chamber through corridors which were almost empty. In King Chakkell's day the palace had been very much the seat of government, and it had usually been thronged with officials, but Daseene's policy had been to disperse general administration into separate buildings and to treat the palace as her private residence. Only matters such as aerial defense, in which she took a special interest, were considered important enough to merit her personal attention.
At the door to the chamber two ostiaries, sweating under the weight of their traditional brakka armor, recognized both men and admitted them without delay. The air in the room was so hot that Cassyll had to snatch for breath. In her old age Queen Daseene continually complained of being cold, and the quarters she used were kept at a temperature which most others found unbearable.
The only person in the room was Lord Sectar, the fiscal chancellor, whose job it was to control state spending. His presence was another indication that the Queen had plans to reclaim the Old World. He was a large and top-heavy man in his sixties, with a jowled face which was florid in normal conditions and in the excessive heat of the room had turned bright crimson. He nodded at the newcomers, pointed mutely at the floor and its buried heating pipes, rolled his eyes to express consternation, dabbed perspiration from his brow and went to stand by a partially-open window.
Cassyll responded to the dumb-show with an exaggerated shrug which mimed helplessness, and sat down on one of the curved benches which faced the high-backed royal chair. At once his thoughts were drawn back to the mystery of Bartan's blue planet. It occurred to him that he had been altogether too casual in his acceptance of the reported phenomenon. How could a world simply materialize in the nearby regions of space? New stars had been seen to appear in the sky, and that being the case one could assume that stars sometimes disappeared, perhaps through explosion, leaving their retinues of planets behind. Cassyll could imagine such worlds blundering through the darkness of the interstellar void, but the chances of one of them joining the local system seemed vanishingly small. Perhaps the reason he did not feel the proper degree of astonishment was that in his heart he simply did not believe in the blue planet. A cloud of gas could have the semblance of solid rock, after all. . . .
Cassyll stood up as a tipstaff opened the door and pounded the floor with his metal-shod rod to announce the arrival of the Queen. Daseene came into the room, dismissed the two ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied her as far as the door, and went to her chair. She was thin and frail-looking, seemingly burdened by the weight of her green silk robes, but there was undiminished authority in the way in which she signaled for the others to be seated.
"Thank you for your attendance here this foreday," she said in a reedy but firm voice. "I know you have many demands upon your time, so we will go straight to the business of the meeting. As you are already aware, I have received an advance dispatch from the Land expedition. Its contents may be summarized as follows." Daseene went on to describe the expedition's findings in detail, doing so without hesitation or reference to notes. When she had finished she surveyed the group, eyes intent beneath the pearl-beaded coif without which she never appeared in public. As had happened before, it occurred to Cassyll that Daseene could if required have taken over the rulership of Kolcorron at any stage in her husband's career and coped well with the task. It was perhaps surprising that she had usually chosen to remain in the background, except in a few cases where women's rights had been concerned.
"I think you have already divined my purpose in calling this meeting," she went on, speaking in formal High Kolcorronian. "In view of the fact that I shall have a full report from the expedition commanders in only three days from now, you may consider my actions precipitate—but I have reached a stage in life at which I am loathe to waste so much as a single hour.
"I intend to send a fleet to Land without delay.
"It is my intention to establish Ro-Atabri as a living capital again before I die; therefore I require decisions from you this very foreday. I also expect the practical work of implementing those decisions to begin as soon as the coming littlenight has ended. So let us be about our work, gentlemen! My first question for you is: how large should the fleet be? You first, Lord Cassyll—what are your views?"
Cassyll blinked as he rose to his feet. This was the style of rulership developed by the late King Chakkeli to suit the needs of pioneers on a new world, and he was not at all sure that it was apposite in the present situation.
"Your Majesty, as loyal subjects we all share your views about reclaiming the Old World, but may I respectfully point out that we are not in a state of dire emergency such as prevailed at the time of the Migration
? As yet, we have no proof that the whole of Land is available to us, so the prudent course would be to follow up the first expedition with a primarily military force equipped with airships which could be reassembled on Land and used to circumnavigate and survey the planet."
Daseene shook her head. "That course is too prudent for me, and I have no time for it—your father would not have counseled me thus."
"My father's day has passed, Majesty," Cassyll said.
"Perhaps it has, perhaps it hasn't, but I take your point about the airships. I propose to send . . . four. How does that number sound to you?"
Cassyll gave a slight bow, expressing irony. "That number sounds very good to me, Majesty."
Daseene gave him a faint twisted smile to show that she had not missed the nuance, then addressed herself to Bartan Drumme. "Do you foresee any great difficulty in transporting airships to Land aboard skyships?"
"No, Majesty," Bartan said, standing up. "We could adapt small airship gondolas to serve as skyship gondolas for the single crossing. On arrival on Land it would simply be a matter of disconnecting the balloons and replacing them with airship gasbags."
"Excellent! That is the sort of positive attitude I like in my advisers." Daseene looked meaningfully at Cassyll. "Now, my lord, how many skyships can be made ready for the crossing within, say, fifty days?"
Before Cassyll could speak Bartan coughed and said, "Forgive me, Majesty, I have something to report... a new development. . . something I feel should be brought to your attention at this point."
