by Jack Vance
“I do. An adequately good instrument, though the gum is clouded.”
“The purest and most highly refined gum discolors, and even with the most careful craftsmanship lenses formed of gum yield distorted images, of poor magnification. On the Home World, according to Brunet, lenses are formed of a material called glass.”
The sun reached the zenith; Sklar Hast’s attention was caught by a peculiar occurrence in the box of damp ash. A white-hot spot had appeared; the ash, began to hiss and smoke. He drew near in wonderment. “Glass would seem a useful material,” Kelso was saying. “Brunet describes it as a mixture of substances occurring in ash which he calls ‘fluxes,’ together with a compound called ‘silica’ which is found in ash, but also occurs husks of sea-ooze: ‘plankton,’ as Brunet calls it. Here I have mixed ash and sea-ooze; I have constructed a water-lens to condense sunlight. I am trying to make glass…”
He peered into the box, then lifted it a trifle, bringing the image of the sun to its sharpest focus. The ash glowed red, orange, yellow; suddenly it seemed to slump. With a rod Kelso pushed more ash into the center, until the wooden box gave off smoke, whereupon Kelso pulled it aside and gazed anxiously at the molten matter in the center. “Something has happened; exactly what we will determine when the stuff is cool.”
He turned to his bench, brought forward another box, this half-full of powdered charcoal. In a center depression rested a cake of black-brown paste.
“And what do you have there?” asked Sklar Hast, already marveling at Kelso’s ingenuity.
“Dried blood. I and my men have drained ourselves pale. It is an operation conducive of woe, hence ‘Outcry’.
“But why should you bleed yourself?” demanded Sklar Hast.
“Again I must refer you to the scientist Brunet. He reveals that human blood is colored red by a substance called ‘hemoglobin.’ This is composed of much carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen and a single particle of iron.
Carbon is the main ingredient of char; oxygen gives to air its invigorating quality; with hydrogen oxygen makes water. But today we seek only that extremely small quantity of iron, so here is blood. I will burn away the various unstable fluids, gases, and oozes, to discover what remains. If all goes well, we will again find unyielding iron.” Kelso thrust the box under the lens. The dried blood smoldered and smoked, then burst into flame which gave off a nauseous odor. Kelso squinted up at the sun. “The lens burns well only when the sun is overhead, so our time is necessarily limited.”
“Rather than water, transparent gum might be used, which then would harden, and the sun could be followed across the sky.”
“Unfortunately no gum is so clear as water,” said Kelso regretfully. “Candle-plant sap is yellow. Bindle-bane seep holds a blue fog.”
“What if,the two were mixed, so that the blue defeated the yellow? And then the two might be filtered and boiled. Or perhaps water can be coagulated with tincture of bone.”
Kelso assented. “Possibly feasible, both.”
They turned to watch the blood, now a glowing sponge tumbled into cinders and then, apparently consumed, vanished upon the surface of the blazing charcoal. Kelso snatched the crucible out from under the lens.
Your blood seems not overrich,” Sklar Hast noted critically. “It might be wise to tap Barquan Blasdel and the intercessors; they appear a hearty lot.”
Kelso clapped a cover upon the box. “We will know better when the charcoal goes black.” He went to his bench, brought back another box. In powdered charcoal stood another tablet, this of black paste. “And what substance is this?” inquired Sklar Hast.
“This,” said Kelso, “is kragen blood, which we boiled last night. It man’s blood carries iron, what will kragen blood yield? Now we discover.” He thrust it under the lens. Like the human blood, it began to smolder and burn, discharging a smoke even more vile than before . Gradually the tablet flaked and tumbled to the surface of the charcoal; as before, Kelso removed it and covered it with a lid. Going to his first box, he prodded among the cinders with a bit of sharp bone, scooped out a congealed puddle of fused material which he laid on the bench. “Glass. Beware. It is yet hot.”
Sklar Hast, using two pieces of bone, lifted the object. “So this is glass. Hmm. It hardly seems suitable for use as a telescope lens. But it may well prove useful otherwise. It seems dense and hard indeed, almost metallic.”
Kelso shook his head in deprecation. “I had hoped for greater transparency. There are probably numerous impurities in the ash and sea-ooze. Perhaps they can be removed by washing the ash or treating it with acid, or something of the sort.”
“But to produce acid, electricity is necessary, or so you tell me.”
“I merely quote Brunet.”
“And electricity is impossible?”
Kelso pursed his lips. “That we will see. I have hopes. One might well think it impossible to generate electricity, using only ash, wood, water, and sea-stuff—but we shall see. Brunet offer a hint or two. But first, as to our iron … “
The yield was small: a nodule of pitted gray metal like the first, half the size of a pea. “That bit represents three flasks of blood,” Kelso remarked glumly. “If we bled every vein on the float, we might win sufficient iron for a small pot.”
“This is not intrinsically an unreasonable proposal,” said Sklar Hast. “We can all afford a flask of blood or two, or even more, during the course of months. To think we have produced metal entirely on our own resources!”
Kelso wryly inspected the iron nodule. “There is no problem to burning the blood under the lens. If every day ten of the folk come to be bled, eventually we will sink the pad under the accumulated weight of the iron.” He removed the lid from the third box. “But observe here! We have misused our curses! The kragen is by no means a creature to be despised!”
On the charcoal rested a small puddle of reddish-golden metal, three times as large as the iron nodule. “This metal must be copper, or one of its alloys. Brunet describes copper as a dark red metal, very useful for the purpose of conducting electricity.”
Sklar Hast lifted the copper from the coals, tossed it back and forth till it was cool. “The savages have copper, in chunks larger than this. Do they kill kragen and burn their blood? It seems incredible! Those distorted furtive half-men!”
Kelso chewed reflectively at his lip. “The kragen must ingest its copper from some source. Perhaps the savages know the source.”
“Metal!” murmured Sklar Hast reverently. “Metal everywhere! Nicklas Rile has been hacking apart the kragen for its bones. He is discarding the internal organs, which are black as snuff-flower. Perhaps they should also be burned under the lens.”
“Convey them here—I will burn them. And then, after we burn the kragen’s liver or whatever the organ, we might attempt to burn snuff-flower as well. Who knows? Perhaps all black substances yield copper, all red substances iron. Though Brunet never makes so inclusive a generalization.”
The kragen’s internal organs yielded further copper. Snuff-flowers produced only a whitish-yellow ash which Kelso conscientiously stored in a tube labeled: “Ash of a Snuff-flower.”
Four days later the largest kragen seen so far appeared. It came swimming in from the west, paralleling the line of floats. A pair of swindlers, returning to the float with a catch of gray-fish, were the first to spy the great black cylinder surmounted by its four-eyed turret. They bent to their oars, shouting the news ahead.
A well-rehearsed plan now went into effect. A team of four young swindlers ran to a lightweight-coracle, shoved off, paddled out to intercept the kragen. Behind the coracle trailed two ropes, each controlled by a gang of men. The kragen, lunging easily through the water, approached, swimming fifty yards off the float. The coracle eased forward, rowed by two of the men, with one named Bade Beach going forward to stand on the gunwales.
The kragen stopped the motion of its vanes, to drift and eye the coracle and the derricks with flinty suspicion. The two swindlers at the oars thr
ust the coracle closer.
Bade Beach stood tensely, twitching a noose. The fourth man controlled the lines to the float. The kragen, contemptuous of attack, issued a few nonplussed clicks the mandibles, twitched the tips of its vanes, to create four whirlpools. The coracle eased closer, to within 100 feet—80—60 feet. Bade Beach bent forward.
The kragen decided to punish the men for their provocative actions. It thrust sharply forward. When it was but 30 feet distant, Bade Beach tossed a noose toward turret and missed. From the float came groans of disappointment. One of the gangs hastily jerked the coracle back. The kragen swerved, turned, made a second furious charge which brought it momentarily to within five feet of the coracle, whereupon Bade Beach dropped the noose over its turret. From the float came a cheer; both gangs hauled on their lines, one snatching the coracle back to safety, the other tightening the noose pulling the kragen aside, almost as it touched the coracle. Thrashing and jerking, the kragen was dragged to the sea-leaning derrick and hoisted from the water in the same fashion as the first. This was a large beast; the derrick creaked, the float sagged before the kragen heaved clear from the water, 65 men were tugging on the end of the lift. The derrick tilted back; the kragen swung in over the float. The vanes were lashed, the beast lowered. Again the onlookers surged forward, laughing, shouting, but no longer manifesting the fury with which they had attacked the first kragen.
Chisels and mallets were plied against the kragen turret; the dome was pried loose, the nerve-nodes destroyed. Fiber buckets were brought; the body fluids were scooped out and carried off to evaporation trays.
Sklar Hast had watched from the side. This had been a large beast—about the size of King Kragen when first he had approached the Old Floats, a hundred and fifty years previously. Since they had successfully dealt with this creature, they need have small fear of any other—except King Kragen. And Sklar Hast was forced to admit that the answer was not yet known. No derrick could hoist King Kragen from the water. No line could restrain the thrust of his vanes. No float could bear his weight. Compared to King Kragen, this dead hulk was a pygmy…
From behind came a rush of feet; a woman tugged at his elbow, gasping and gulping in the effort to catch her breath. Sklar Hast, startled, scanning the float, could see nothing to occasion her distress. Finally she was able to blurt: “Barquan Blasdel has taken to the sea, Barquan Blasdel is gone!”
“What!” cried Sklar Hast.
Chapter 13
Barquan Blasdel, his spouse, his two older daughters and their lovers, together with Luke Robinet and Vidal Reach, were missing, as was a sturdy coracle. Their plans had been daring, carefully laid and precisely executed. For weeks they had secreted stores in a nook to the far side of the float, near Meril Rohan’s school. Secretly oars, a mast, and a sail had been fabricated. Then they had awaited the capture or a second kragen, assuming correctly that the attention of everyone would be diverted.
The two young men, spouses to Blasdel’s daughters made off with the coracle. Even with a kragen in mid-air, the sight of Barquan Blasdel in a coracle might well have attracted attention. The two-young men were more inconspicuous. They untied the coracle, paddled it around to the south side of the float. The stores were loaded aboard, all embarked, oars were shipped and the coracle sent scudding away from New Home Float. By sheer bad luck at woman rendered squeamish by pregnancy had put the breadth of the float between her and the landing of the kragen and had seen the coracle disappearing around Outcry Float.
Phyral Berwick dispatched ten coracles in instant pursuit, but by this time evening was at hand, with an unusually brisk wind. What with the sail; all hands at the oars, the dusk, and dozens of floats to hide among there was small chance that the fugitive coracle be overtaken. Barquan Blasdel might even choose to veer north or south and so lose himself the more completely; search coracles stayed out all night. Eight searched the floats, ghosting hack and forth along the star-lit channels; two struck west as fast and hard as the most stalwart swindlers could take them. When dawn came to throw a pearl-colored light over the sea, the new floats were almost invisible to the east, but the searchers were alone on the sea. Barquan Blasdel’s coracle was nowhere to be seen. Those searching among the floats fared no better. All returned to New Home Float on the dawn wind.
A convocation of the councilors was called to consider the situation. Some bemoaned the leniency which had been extended the fugitive intercessors. “Why did we allow our qualms to conquer us?” moaned Robin Magram. We should have made a clean job and strangled the lot.”
Berwick nodded patiently. “You may be right. I for one could not bring myself to commit murder, though it would have been to our best interests.” He jerked his thumb toward the huts in which lurked the remaining intercessors. “What of them? Each wishes us evil. Each is now planning the same despicable act as that performed by Blasdel. Let us kill them now—quietly, without malice, but with a beautiful finality!”
Hast made a morose objection. “This would do no good. We would become murderers in all truth. The fat is now in the fire. In fact, we would do better by turning them free—giving them a coracle and sending them off.”
“Not so fast!” protested Rollo Barnack. “Barquan may never reach the Home Floats!”
“He need merely sail on the night wind and paddle,” said Sklar Hast. “But very well, let us wait till we know for sure what has eventuated.”
Robin Magram growled, “If Barquan Blasdel returns to the old floats, one eventuation is sure. We must expect hostile actions. The man is a vessel of malice.”
“Not necessarily,” argued Phyral Berwick. “Remember—the folk of the floats are by and large sensible. They are our caste-brothers, our friends, our relatives. What do they gain by attacking us?”
“We have escaped King Kragen; we acknowledge no overlord,” said Sklar Hast pessimistically. “Misery brings jealousy and resentment. The intercessors will whip them to a sullen fury.” He pitched his voice to a nasal falsetto. “‘Those insolent fugitives! How dare they scamp their responsibility to noble King Kragen? How dare they perform such bestial outrages against lesser kragen? Everyone to the coracles! We go to purify the iconoclasts!’”
“Possibly correct,” said Kelso. “But the intercessor are by no means the only influential folk of the floats. The arbiters will hardly agree to any such schemes.”
“In essence,” said Phyral Berwick, “we have no information. We speculate in a void. Barquan Blasdel may lose himself on the ocean and never return to Old Floats. He may be greeted with apathy or with excitement. We talk without knowledge. It seems to me that we should take steps to inform ourselves as to the true state of affairs—in short, that we send spies to derive this information for us.”
Phyral Berwick’s proposal ultimately became the decision of all. It was further decided that the remaining intercessors be guarded more carefully, until it was definitely learned whether or not Barquan Blasdel had returned to the Old Floats. If such were the case, the location of the New Floats was no longer a secret, and the consensus was that the remaining intercessors should likewise be allowed to return, should they choose to do so. Robin Magram considered the decision soft-headed. “Do you think they would warrant us like treatment in a similar situation? Remember, they planned that King Kragen should waylay us!”
“True enough,” said Arrel Sincere wearily, “but what of that? We can either kill them, hold them under guard or let them go their way, the last option being the least taxing and the most honorable.”
Robin Magram made no further protest, and the council then concerned itself with the details of the projected spy operation. None of the coracles at hand were considered suitable, and it was decided to build a coracle of special design—long, light, low to the water, with two sails of fine weave to catch every whisper of wind. Three men were named to the operation, all originally from Almack Float, a small community far to the east, in fact next to Sciona, at the end of the chain. None of the three had acquaintance on Ap
prise and so stood minimal chance of being recognized.
The coracle was built at once. A light keel of laminated and glued withe was shaped around pegs driven into the float; ribs were bent and lashed into place; diagonal ribs were attached to these, then the whole was covered with four layers of varnished pad-skin.
At mid-morning of the fourth day after Barquan Blasdel’s flight, the coracle, almost a canoe, departed to the west, riding easily and swiftly over the sunny water. In its gear was included the horn taken from Barquan Blasdel’s old workroom on Apprise Float. For three hours it slid along the line of floats, each an islet bedecked in blue, green, purple, orange, and black verdure, surmounted by the arching fronds of the prime plant, each surrounded by its family of smaller pads. The coracle reached the final float of the group and struck out to the west, water swirling and sparkling behind the long oars. Afternoon waned; the rain clouds formed and swept across the sky, with black brooms hanging below. After the rain came sunset, making a glorious display among the broken clouds. The breeze began to blow; the sails were raised; the men pulled in their oars and rested. The coracle thrust swiftly west, with a chuckling of bow wave and wake; then came the mauve dusk with the constellations appearing, and then night with the stars shining down on the glossy black water. The men took turns sleeping, and the night passed. Before dawn the adverse wind rose; the men, saving their strength, rowed with enough force to maintain headway.
The second day passed in a like manner. The first line of floats met by the flotilla fell behind, somewhat to the north. Another day went by. The floats of the savages failed to appear; presumably they had been passed during the night. Just before dawn of the fourth day the men lowered the horn into the water and listened.
Silence.
The men stood erect, looked into the west. Allowing for the increased speed of their passage, Tranque Float should be near at hand. But only a blank horizon could be seen.
