When the Anointed finally dismissed him it was full dark; he returned to the room he had been provided, impatient for morning, when he could begin his search. He ate his dinner without tasting it, and slept hardly at all as he ran through everything he knew of the tribes not yet committed to either protectorate or Chosen. He hardly noticed when an officer came and escorted David Beloved-of-Jesus to the barracks to return him to regular service.
He was up at dawn, saddling his horse before the sun cleared the horizon, ready to ride for Isachar. He had three tribes in mind already. Thaddeus was barely able to keep up, but, unwilling to be left alone in a strange and hostile city, he did his best. It was not until they stopped for lunch that he was able to ask John where they were going.
Chapter Nineteen
“And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex him."-Leviticus 19:33
****
The Followers of God had listened politely to the proposal, debated it for a day and a night, then declared John an agent of the Antichrist; he fled before they could lay their hands on him.
The People of Christ's Blood had listened only after much argument, and dismissed the entire matter the moment John mentioned trade; they felt ordinary business and commerce unworthy of their attention, and tossed John and Thaddeus on a dungheap.
Despite their disdain of material possessions they kept the horses, so that the two men had to walk over the hill to the village of Savior's Grace, whose people had no established name for themselves. They came across no streams, and at Thaddeus’ insistence did not take time to rest, so that they limped into the village stinking and filthy and exhausted.
There was no inn, but the minister, Seth Bound-for-Glory by name, brought them to the rectory, where his children took over; the three daughters washed the soiled clothes while the two sons heated and hauled water for long, luxurious baths; they also provided a few small cakes to ease growling stomachs. The minister's wife saw to preparing a suitable dinner a little later in the evening.
It was only after dinner, feeling greatly refreshed and relieved, that John and Thaddeus explained their mission.
“Have you heard about the People of Heaven?” John asked, to begin the conversation.
“Is that the protectorate that's been developing of late?” the minister asked.
“Yes, it is,” John said.
“A man of theirs came by a few weeks ago, with samples of their goods and a smooth line of talk; we've been considering the offer, but haven't decided as yet. They set no deadline, so we're not in any hurry. It sounds good, but fair speeches aren't always the truth."
John nodded. “I might as well admit, right up front,” he said, “that I'm an enemy of the protectorate. They destroyed my own tribe's army."
“You're a True Worder? That fellow boasted about defeating those folks."
John nodded again. “We're both True Worders."
“Ah!"
John had hoped for a more informative response; he glanced at Thaddeus, who shrugged slightly.
“We came looking for someone who would like to stop the spread of the People of Heaven.” He held his hand up quickly to forestall any protests. “Not by open warfare-I'm not looking for allies for another war. I want to defeat the Heaveners at their own game-trade and negotiation. I don't have the means to do it myself, but I know how it can be done, and make the doer rich in the process; all I need is the cooperation of a government with thirty acres of empty land to spare, and a willingness to work with strangers."
He tensed, watching the minister's reaction.
“That sounds right interesting,” Bound-for-Glory said. “Tell me more."
John smiled his relief and explained.
When he had finished there was a long moment of silence; finally, Bound-for-Glory said, “We'll need to talk it over."
“We?"
“The folks here; I'm not the boss, just the spokesman. Everybody has a say in what we do."
John smiled again. That was exactly the situation he was hoping for.
“I'll say right now, though,” Bound-for-Glory added, “that we'll probably do it. I'd reckon that sooner or later somebody's going to, and that someone's going to get rich off it. Might as well be us, then-I figure I'd like being rich.” He smiled back.
John and Thaddeus were lodged in a spare room in a neighbor's house, while the villagers jammed into the minister's house for the discussion. Assuming the debate would last a few days, John quickly settled in to sleep, intending to rest after his recent efforts and be ready to start back toward the Citadel as soon as the decision came. He was startled by his awakening after what seemed like mere minutes; a glance at the window assured him that it was still dark out. He looked up at the unfamiliar form looming over him, the features hidden by shadow, as the room's only lamp was on a bracket beside the door, behind whoever it was.
“Mr. Mercy,” the figure said, “we've decided. I won't keep you in suspense; we'll make the invitation."
“Oh,” John said, “Good. What time is it?"
“Around midnight; we figured we'd let you know now, so you wouldn't have a chance to slip away in the morning before we could talk to you."
“Why would I want to do that?"
“Oh, I don't know-we've had a swindler or two come through here. And Mr. Mercy, if you're one of them, if you've lied or deceived us about this, I just want you to know that around here we skin our enemies alive.” Before John could reply, the figure retreated back through the doorway and out of sight.
John stared after him. He had thought that the people of Savior's Grace were some of the calmest, friendliest, most sensible folk he had yet encountered, but this midnight visitation disproved that. Some of them, at any rate, were just as unpleasant as people anywhere else, and their behavior just as unpredictable. He hoped that nothing would be done that might disrupt his plans.
He worried for perhaps five minutes before falling asleep again.
In the morning, when he had arisen, washed, and dressed, he met with a deputation of the townsfolk, who confirmed what his midnight visitor had said, even providing a written document to that effect. That done, Seth Bound-for-Glory apologized for the nocturnal intrusion.
“Don't pay old Hezekiah any mind,” he said. “He's impatient and mistrustful, that's all. You just go tell your corporation that the Free People of Savior's Grace want them to come here and talk to us, and that they can use that flat piece of pasture land at the foot of the hill here for their ships."
John nodded. “Thank you; I'll get moving just as soon as I can. If anyone could lend me a horse, or better still two, for me and my comrade here, we'd make better time…” He stopped upon seeing the expressions of the half dozen men facing him go hard.
“Mr. Mercy, it's not that we don't trust you,” Bound-for-Glory said, “but all we have is your word, and you haven't shown us a dime. This could all be just a ways of talking us out of two horses, you see. I don't reckon we can spare any."
John looked around, then nodded. “I understand. God be with you, then-I'll be back as soon as I can.” His meager supplies were already packed; he slung the sack on his shoulder and marched out of the village without further conversation, Thaddeus close behind. He had no money for horses or airship fare; even when they reached the protectorate they would still have to walk the entire way, unless someone took pity on them. John knew that was unlikely.
They were perhaps halfway to the Citadel when the first snows began, and the going got steadily rougher; John began to wonder whether he would make it before Anno Domini 2593 gave way to Anno Domini 2594, but on December 20th he looked up at an unfamiliar sound and saw a gleaming metal something rising straight up into the sky. After a moment's astonishment he recognized it as one of the ships that came and went from the field beside the Corporate Headquarters of the People of Heaven, and that meant that he was almost to the Citadel.
He had never seen one of the starships flying in daylight before; they had always taken off and landed un
der cover of darkness, showing no lights.
It flashed in the sun's ruddy glow, dwindled, and vanished; John stood for a moment staring after it. It was a beautiful thing, he admitted that readily, despite his hatred of what it represented.
They reached the Citadel in the midst of a blizzard on the twenty-third, and after making their way through the empty streets found Miriam waiting at the Righteous House. She hurried them to a table, wrapped blankets about their shoulders, and supplied them with hot beef stew and herbal brew.
When he had recovered sufficiently to speak, Thaddeus announced, “Captain, I've had all I can take. I wish you luck, but I'm not going back to Savior's Grace with you; I'm going home as soon as I can raise the fare for an airship ride to New Nazareth."
John nodded. “I don't blame you,” he said. “Go with my blessing."
They sat for a moment in silence, warming their bones.
Miriam sat down at the table and said, “Kwam? told me you were coming; he's been watching you when he could."
John looked at her. “Watching us how?"
“By satellite, mostly."
“Those things again.” He shook his head, then looked up at her. “Do you mean that the Heaveners have known where we were every step of the way?"
“Oh, I don't think so-Kwam? was keeping track of you, but I don't think anyone else was. The rumor seemed to be that you'd gone underground again, and no one was very concerned about it."
“They weren't?"
“I don't think so; I'm not really sure."
“They should have been. We found what we wanted.” He sipped his brew.
“Kwam? thought you had; he's been thinking about going out in one of the airships to get you, but he decided not to risk it-at least, until this blizzard hit. If you hadn't made it when you did he'd have come after you."
John did not find that reassuring, somehow; he suspected that Kwam? might well have waited just a little too long, thereby keeping a clear conscience while ridding himself of potential trouble-and of course, potential profit as well. Before he could think of anything appropriate to say, the door of the inn slammed open, caught by the wind, and Kwam? himself stepped in, wrapped in a dull gray cloak.
John noted that somehow, none of the wet, driven snow had stuck to the garment; Kwam? was able to take it off and fold it up without shaking it out. Not only was there no snow adhering to it, it looked dry. Another bit of Earther technology, John thought with resignation. Even miracles could lose their savor when they came too often, and the Earthers seemed to produce one minor miracle after another, without let-up.
“You made it,” Kwam? said as he sank into the table's only remaining vacant chair.
John nodded. “So we did,” he said.
The Earther seemed uncertain of what to say next, so John went on, “We got the invitation, from a village called Savior's Grace up in Isachar-they call themselves the Free People, but so do a lot of independent villages. There's a big meadow at the foot of the hillside they're on that should be just about large enough for the landing site.” He pulled out the document Bound-for-Glory had given him.
Kwam? accepted it, unrolled it and began reading. John interrupted to ask, “What happened to Stephen Christ-is-Risen?"
Kwam? looked up. “Who?"
“Stephen Christ-is-Risen, Shepherd of the People of Heaven."
“Oh, you mean the preacher here? He's out on Fomalhaut II, I think-wanted to preach the word to the heathen, I suppose."
“He's alive?"
Kwam? lowered the document. “Of course he's alive! Why wouldn't he be?"
“The rumor in Spiritus Sancti is that you people murdered him when he got in your way."
“Oh, no! We couldn't get away with that. He just felt useless after we started running everything; his last few meetings didn't get more than a dozen people. When he complained, Ricky Dawes offered him free transportation anywhere in the Confederacy, and he took it."
“He did?"
“Sure, why not? What is there here on Godsworld for him?"
“It's his home."
“So what? He's a preacher-he wanted people to preach to, and the people here weren't interested any more. They have plenty of preachers. Out on Fomalhaut II organized religion was outlawed for a couple of centuries, so the miners are eager for interesting preachers."
“Oh.” John found it impossible to answer intelligently. Kwam? and the other Earthers knew so much more than he did, about the universe and everything in it, that he often found himself feeling like a stupid child when talking with them. Changing the subject, he tapped the document. “How do you like your Christmas present?"
“Christmas?” He looked down at the paper, then up at John. “Oh, Christmas! I see. I like it fine!"
“Don't they still celebrate Christmas back on Earth? I know true Christianity is dead, but I thought the trappings still lingered."
“Oh, we do! But we call it Exmas, and Earth's on a different calendar from Godsworld; it's only October to me. I haven't adjusted to the change yet."
“Oh; here, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the day after that is Christmas, and the day after that is New Year's Day, the start of Anno Domini Two Thousand Five Hundred and Ninety-Four-that means ‘the year of the Lord'."
“I know that, I'd just forgotten for a moment. On Earth it's October, Twenty-Five Forty-Three, Standard Reckoning."
John nodded. “What do they reckon from?"
“The same thing you do, except that your years are shorter. That's not important. John, this invitation doesn't mention you anywhere."
“Oh?"
“Don't you want to have some say in what happens? I want you to-you promised me a job with ITD, but this Seth Bound-for-Glory never did."
John shrugged. “I'd like to help run things, but I won't insist. If you're worried about your own job, just demand they hire you before you give them the invitation-or at least before you tell them where Savior's Grace is. You just get them to come here, and I'll take care of myself."
“All right,” Kwam? said. “There's a ship going out tomorrow morning; I'll see if I can get on that. I'm due for some vacation time."
That reminded John of something. “Why are they flying their starships by daylight now?” he asked.
“Oh, that's your doing! You made such a big point of telling everyone that we're from Earth that there didn't seem to be any reason to hide it any more; they've been flying in daylight since four days after you left.” He rolled up the invitation and stood. “I should get going; I'll be lucky to get on this flight as it is.” He paused. “I'm not sure whether I should thank you or not."
“Don't worry about it,” John said. “We'll see how things turn out."
“Right. I'll probably be coming back on an ITD ship and landing directly at Savior's Grace, I guess."
“I'll be there waiting for you,” John said; he reached out and shook Kwam?'s hand in farewell.
The Earther flung his cloak about his shoulders and marched out into the snow.
Chapter Twenty
“Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbor's house; lest he be weary of thee, and so hate thee."-Proverbs 25:17
****
Despite his attempts to earn his keep by shoveling snow, carving nearwood, and breaking up ice for drinking water, it was obvious to John that he was wearing out his welcome in Savior's Grace. Although few said so openly, he doubted that more than a handful of the villagers still believed an ITD ship was coming.
John was not entirely sure he believed it himself. He had hurried back to Isachar, unsure whether the ship might come before he could reach Savior's Grace, but his haste turned out to be completely unnecessary. January and February passed without any sign of a ship, and with the first week of March and the spring thaw he began to wonder if something had gone wrong. Had Bechtel-Rand discovered what Kwam? had in mind, and somehow stopped him? Had ITD refused to cooperate for some reason? Had they thought it was a trick, or dismissed Godsworld as not worth fighting over
? Had Bechtel-Rand shot down the ITD ship?
Late in the afternoon of the eighth of March he was working in a nearwood field, carving away the soft red pulp from an unusually large, fine mass, when he glanced at the sky for the thousandth time and saw a distant glittering.
He froze, the machete half-raised, and stared.
The glittering grew brighter; something shiny was falling out of the sky.
He dropped the machete and ran for the meadow, shouting, “The ship! The ship's coming! Clear the field!"
Around him his fellow workers stopped and stared. “Get back here!” the nearwood field's owner called; John ignored him and kept running.
By the time he was past the stone fence he could make out the ship's general contours; it was roughly cylindrical, with several odd lumps and bulges. It was descending rapidly; John had no way of judging its size, but it was obviously enormous.
He charged full-tilt down the hillside toward the meadow chosen for the landing, just barely managing to slow down in time to avoid colliding with the wire surrounding it. The ship, too, slowed as it neared the meadow; its shadow spread across the field.
Others had seen the immense vessel's approach now, and were trickling down toward the fence in twos and threes. Following John's example, none stepped over into the meadow.
The ship was now dropping so slowly that it scarcely seemed to be moving at all, and that, combined with the utter silence of its descent, gave the scene an air of unreality. John wondered for a moment if its arrival were all just a wish-fulfilling dream. He stared up at the ship, now only a few hundred feet from the ground as best he could estimate.
He tried to guess its size, comparing its shadow to the length of the meadow and the villagers who were now crowding the uphill side of the fence, and came up with a diameter of two hundred feet. That seemed unreasonably large-it was certainly far bigger than the ships he had seen in the Citadel of Heaven-but within the bounds of possibility.
The ship seemed to suddenly accelerate, as if it were simply falling the last few yards, and there was a sudden roar of wind accompanying it, followed by an earth-shaking boom as it struck the ground.
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