by Adele Abbot
“Quickly now,” said the steersman. “The gates will have opened, we dare not be late.”
Without exception, all but Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli seemed unhappy with their circumstances.
“Evidently, none of our fellow travelers care to leave Jesm.”
“I expect they all have lives which they are loath to leave, Calistrope. I remember you were depressed on leaving Sachavesku.”
Calistrope nodded. “Correct, Ponderos, absolutely correct. It is our good fortune that we are on our way again.”
At that moment, the pilot came aboard and the gangplank was withdrawn. A great circular cage at the centre of the craft began to turn as a heavy centipede was urged into motion by hanging a large piece of putrescent meat in front of it. The moorings were slipped and the barge moved away into the faster offshore river currents.
The craft straightened its course and headed down river towards the sea. An hour or so later, they entered the labyrinthine channels of the delta and floated between islands of tall tufted grasses. Strange insects, with breathing tubes at the tops of their heads, basked on the mud in the red sunlight and watched them pass. Finally, out onto the Last Ocean itself.
Such a great expanse of water unenclosed by the usual league high walls of rock affected every person on board except for the crew. Most coped with the incipient agoraphobia by ignoring what was beyond the guard rails around the deck. Calistrope fixed his attention on the great vapor-plumed mountain ahead of them and therefore realized before his friends that the barge was actually taking them to their destination.
“I expected to have to cajole someone into bringing us out here from a village along the coast,” he said. “But here we are. Our misfortunes on the river have worked out far better than we could have hoped.”
“Calistrope, you have a deplorable habit of always looking on the bright side,” Ponderos was determinedly morose. “Things do not work out better than we expect. If things work out even within jumping distance of what we expect, it is entirely due to our own efforts.”
Calistrope dropped the subject and strained his eyes to see some mark of habitation on the mountain’s steep flanks. There were none visible, even when he borrowed Ponderos’ magnifying glasses and scrutinized the rocky slopes a second time.
As they approached the mountain, all they could see were granite cliffs with white waves crashing about their bases. Closer still, the stinking haunch of meat was taken from the centipede’s cage and they slowed. Four crewmen deployed long sweeps and rowed them carefully along the coast.
Openings appeared in the rock, a line of black cavern mouths almost half a league in length. They passed these by at a respectable distance and it was possible to see that sea water poured into the openings. Onward and more openings appeared, torrents of water flooding through at such a rate that the pilot had to steer an oblique course to cross the currents safely.
Calistrope looked from the huge water intakes to the outpouring vapors above them. He wondered at the connection until cries of dismay brought him back to the here and now.
The cage had been disconnected from the driving propellers and dogged to other gears below the decks. The boards beneath them heaved up, guard rails along the port side collapsed and one by one, then in threes, sixes, dozens, the people on board slipped down the increasing slope into the water. Those who hung grimly on to ropes or bollards had their fingers rapped with belaying pins wielded by grinning crewmen. They followed the others in to the freezing water.
Chapter 17
At once, they were seized by the current and sucked towards the dark mouths of the water intakes. Here was the final conclusion to the process of justice.
Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli slid down the green rush of water into darkness; Roli screamed himself hoarse. The fall seemed endless but might have been only seconds before they were swept into a great swirling pond with an ominous vortex at the center.
As with their fellow deportees, the fall plunged them beneath the surface and when they came up again, it was to find themselves circling a great round cavern with smooth unscalable walls. Inexorably, the circle became a spiral which ended in the central funnel; it sucked them downward through twisting pipes and dropped them into a river which surged away down tunnels dimly lit by fronds of luminescent moss or fungus.
Again, the sides were smooth, devoid of anything which could be used to climb above the torrent. Even if such were possible, the roof curved over and down again on the far side; there was nowhere to escape to.
Around a huge bend and downward swirled the water, with its flotsam of exhausted men and women. Suddenly, Calistrope was spread-eagled against a web strung across the watercourse. All of them who had made it this far were caught against the barrier and where possible, they began to crawl to one side or the other. Roli was there but seemed paralyzed by fear until Calistrope slapped his cheeks hard enough to secure his attention.
“We are safe,” he told the boy. “Safe.”
Some were too far gone and fell beneath the flood before others could help them. Calistrope supported an old man to the side and then turned back again to help until eventually, there were none left clinging to the smooth strands of plaited silk.
Those who had survived and scrambled along the web to the side found a dimly visible border of white sand to either side. Beyond the web, the river plummeted into black depths beneath a footbridge joining both banks of the river. On the left bank, they found a metallic track leading off towards a low archway some distance from the racing waters.
Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli, together with the rest, followed this silver ribbon buried in the sand and crowded through the arch. Phosphorescent fungi gave sufficient illumination to follow the tunnel beyond, the roof was low enough to cause both Calistrope and Ponderos to duck in places but it rose again further on. There was more space around them, more places for vegetation to take root and grow and thus provide a brighter light.
The brighter light showed only too clearly what fate had in store for them. There were cries of horror; many of their fellow convicts tried to turn back or merely fell to their knees to wait in abject fear.
Great golden armored ants reared above them—both ahead and behind. Huge glittering orbs stared down from the trapezoidal skulls. Mandibles reached down and tugged the collapsed to their feet, urged them on again towards the far side of the cavern where they were herded on to a ramp spiraling down and down into the ground, into the very roots of the mountain which stood above them.
Roli asked, with a distinct tremor in his voice, “What do you think is in store for us?”
“It is difficult to imagine,” said Calistrope. “Whatever it is, we should be marginally better off than these others. There was a certain amount of magic in the ether streams at Jesm. Ponderos and I have a modicum of power available to us; we may be able to use it to advantage.”
“Will they eat us?”
“The ants at Sachavesku ate only vegetable matter,” said Calistrope.
“It is not a universal attribute,” Ponderos pointed out.
“Well, no. But there is no point in dwelling on the more disagreeable aspects unless we have to.”
Ponderos remained silent and the subject was dropped as they continued to descend. At length, when the temperature had risen high enough to dry their clothing and the air had become humid and over-rich, the way leveled out and they passed into a reception area.
The large golden ants took up stations around the perimeter and the humans gravitated towards long tables set with bowls of assorted fruit, various fungi and hot broths and vegetable soups. Clay pitchers of clear water and fruit juice stood at the back of the table next to earthenware beakers.
The three travelers ate their fill. The food was good, it was fresh, the juices newly pressed from the fruit.
Calistrope looked at the empty plate he had been eating from. “Hand made,” he said. “Turned upon a wheel. These were not made by ants,” he took up a spoon carved from w
ood and brandished it at the other two. “Not made by ants. Humans. There are human beings down here, there must be.”
Ponderos took the spoon from Calistrope and looked at it, nodded. “Nor were they made under duress, this is good work. If it was forced, it would be hasty, rough.”
After eating, they found a place with running water and cleansing agents to use. The convicts washed away the grime of travel and tidied themselves. The simple acts of eating and bathing restored spirits, people told each other that this was not so bad; they rediscovered hope; apathy was washed away.
Roli attempted a grin and asked, “Better than we expected? Eh?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps our psychology is better understood than theirs,” Ponderos’ mood was still grim.
“They’ve not fed us meat,” said Calistrope.
“No,” Ponderos smiled for the first time since sliding into the water. “No, there you are right my friend. Better than we… than I expected.”
After that, there were lines of cots and most of them slept. Calistrope and Ponderos rested and watched the ants march to and fro.
Later, several hours later, they were roused and led off through a long passage. It seemed to be an ancient rift in the rock, sharp corners above them and no upper limit visible; below, the floor and the first two ells were worn smooth by the passage of bodies over tremendous lengths of time.
Further on, the narrow passage narrowed still further so the score or so of men and women were forced into single file. One of the large golden ants took a place in the column after every six or seven persons, they were given a wide berth. They came to a gateway guarded by two of the insects who scrutinized every individual who came through. Some sort of selection was in progress; every now and then a person was thrust towards an opening at the right while most others were sent straight on. A few paces ahead, the process was repeated and in both cases, Ponderos, Calistrope and Roli remained together.
A third selection was made and a stricken Roli was tugged gently from the line and sent towards an opening in the tunnel wall while his comrades were pushed onwards.
“No,” Ponderos and Calistrope shouted in unison and resisted, bringing the line to a halt.
The two ants who had made the selection urged them on, to no avail. When the great mandibles came towards Ponderos, he grasped one in each hand and held them apart. With obvious difficulty, the ant forced the appendages slowly together. Before they met and perhaps, severed Ponderos’ fingers, he pushed the creature back several paces and let go.
Both of them expected the creature to come forward and either force them onward or to merely dispose of them. They drew swords and stood ready to fight. However, the expected did not happen. The ant that Ponderos had treated in so cavalier a manner shook its head several times and turned, touched an antenna to its fellow.
Movement stopped. Calistrope and Ponderos stood watchfully; the two ants reared back onto their four rear legs and froze, waiting for something. A few minutes later another insect arrived. As golden and as shining as the imposing creatures they had already met, this one was smaller, standing no higher than Calistrope’s chest.
“You ressisst,” it stated, vibrating its antennae to simulate human speech.
“Our friend has been taken away,” Calistrope said loudly.
The ant backed away a little, perhaps as the result of the volume Calistrope had employed. It turned and conferred with its fellow by more touches. It turned back to Calistrope. “The individual wass a young humann.”
“That is so.”
“Young and old are ssegregated. They are taught differen’ proficienciess.”
“Not this one,” Calistrope insisted. “The young human is taught by me.”
“You are teaching?”
“I am teaching.”
The creature was silent for some time. It stared at Calistrope then at Ponderos. It looked at the guards. It reached out and touched one antenna to that of a guard and went away. Calistrope and Ponderos were gestured away from the waiting line to a corner of the small enclosure.
The line behind them resumed its motion and while they waited, two more of the younger convicts were selected and marched off through the narrow portal where Roli had gone. A few minutes later, trailed by the smaller ant who had spoken to them, Roli came back suddenly grinning at the sight of his comrades. This time the ant remained silent, it waited for one of the guards to move them all back into line and then itself took up a position in the file behind them as they started away.
They passed several more of the selection points and although the accompanying ant communicated with the others, all three humans were scrutinized as carefully as before. It seemed however, they were to be treated as a group.
Eventually, the line of human beings in front had diminished to six or seven, behind them there were only three; the dozen or so were taken to tables where puzzles were laid out to be completed. There were tests of dexterity—shape matching, assembly; there was color selection, tests of geometric recognition and even simple evaluation of arithmetical knowledge.
When these were done, the small ant drew Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli to one side and flanked by a pair of the large guardian ants, she gave them her assessment.
“It iss clear that you are not the ussual type of human that iss ssent uss.”
Calistrope nodded to himself. It was obvious that there is a regular supply of unwanted humans.
“The majority are malcontentss and criminalss,” it continued.
“So are we, according to the Arbiter at Jesm.”
“Our tests tell you are different. Most are suitable for general dutiess, for cleaning and repairing. Many create things or manufacture what otherss have created. A few, like yourselvess, are useful in abstract projects.”
Ponderos asked, “Abstract?”
“We cannot stay here,” Calistrope said forcefully. “We are already engaged on important business.”
“Here,” the ant told them, “importance is decided by the Nest,” it stalked away leaving the guards to hustle the three of them off through labyrinthine passages to a suite of hemispherical rooms occupied already by several human beings.
The guards departed and two men and a woman came out of adjacent doorways to look at them.
“Hello,” said Ponderos, smiling.
The others looked at him blankly, then at each other. “What are you here for?” asked one of the two men, a short, somewhat overweight individual with a piercing stare. All three wore a long shift of silky material, their feet were bare; the men were unshaven with long grey wispy beards.
Both Ponderos and Calistrope shrugged. “Whatever the ants have in store for us for the moment. We intend to escape as soon as possible; we have urgent concerns elsewhere.”
“You will learn that your concerns have little relevance down here. Joon, Melli, we have work to do. Come.” Joon, Melli and their spokesman retreated to a large room where they sat down on wooden stools and continued some debate that had been interrupted.
The newcomers explored their quarters, choosing three of the domed cells as far as possible from those in use and then convened in the center one of the three.
“Ponderos,” Calistrope asked. “Well? Abstract pursuits? I heard your surprise.”
“Philosophy?” Ponderos suggested with a grin.
“Planning nest expansion,” said Roli. “That way we can find our way out.”
“Now, that is practical,” said Calistrope, nodding. “Perhaps we could suggest something like that if the opportunity occurs. What do you suppose our earnest companions are doing?”
“Eavesdropping should be quite easy.”
“Roli, you still think as a thief!”
“I have spent far longer as a thief than as apprentice to a sorcerer,” Roli’s response was a little sharper than he had intended.
“It was not criticism, Roli. It is an immensely useful trait, especially in our present occupation.”
As Roli had surmised, eave
sdropping was not difficult.
“…it needs more pressure.” The woman was speaking
That is obvious, Joon. The point of my observation is where does it come from?”
“A larger boiler is where it comes from, Pol. A larger boiler will have to be requisitioned.”
“Can’t we improve the existing one? After all, we’re supposed to think about these things.”
“Think away. So long as they feed me and provide me with suitable company in the glad room, I prefer to let others think.”
Meli raised his eyebrows and winked at her.
“Suppose,” said Pol, “that the outlet was made colder. In fact, suppose we built a condenser at the outlet.”
“Suppose,” replied Joon, uninterested in cooling and condensation.
“It would increase the pressure difference.” Meli was suddenly intrigued. “It would make it more efficient. I’ll go to the library later on.”
Although they listened for some time, apart from Joon’s proclivities becoming ever more clear, the subject of conversation remained obscure and they returned to Ponderos’ room.
“That did not tell us much.”
“No, Roli, not a great deal. Engineering, it was to do with engineering,” Calistrope thought about what he had heard. “It reminds me of something, condensation, something. It will come to me.”
Their own conversation lapsed into occasional comments.
“We ought to start looking around while we are left alone.”
“ How deep into the earth are we?”
“Steam! That’s what is being condensed.”
“Abstract, is what the ant said. You remarked on it. Something which exists as a concept but not in reality.”
“Steam is hardly abstract. So?”
“I can hear insects coming.”
It was the small ant again but this time, accompanied not by a guard but by a rather larger creature than itself; an ant which suggested a disturbing and un-antlike quality. Calistrope frowned, unable to decide what it was. The insect possessed the same golden colored chitin, the same gleaming black faceted eyes; its carapace, its head, was of an odd shape. Larger in proportion to its body than the others, the skull bulged with what Calistrope suspected was intelligence.
