Future Indefinite (Round Three of The Great Game)

by Dave Duncan

  Eleal had almost forgotten what stage fright felt like, for she had not experienced it since she was a child. Now she cringed away in shock, staring aghast at D'ward's twinkling blue eyes. She could not follow an act like that!

  Dosh pinched her. “Up with you! Give them the performance of your life, Singer. But keep your clothes on."

  She slapped him away angrily.

  Then D'ward smiled at her. She had forgotten his smiles. The beard hadn't changed their impact. She rose unwillingly to her feet.

  "Come and bear witness,” he said. “Up here! Excuse us, grandfather."

  He meant her to stand on the flat rock the old man was now vacating. She held out a hand so he could help her up, but he ignored it. Then Dosh gripped her waist and lifted her onto the makeshift podium. A great cavern, full of twinkling fires, bright now against the evening ... innumerable intent faces. She had never performed before an audience this size before, and she did not have her lines memorized. Piol had not even written her part yet. The pounding of her heart seemed to fill the cave; something was building a nest in her stomach.

  "Begin at the beginning,” D'ward said below her. “Like you told Dosh.” He smiled again.

  She turned to the audience and drew a deep breath. “My name is Eleal Singer.” She heard her voice echo back satisfactorily from the rocks. “Five years ago, I came to Narshvale with a troupe of strolling players. Innocent child that I was, I never dreamed that evil forces conspired to slay me, nor that I was destined to play a starring role on the stage of history...."

  After that it was easy. She told everything, or almost everything. She did not describe D'ward's hasty departure from Suss, but she included the first miracle, when he had cured Dolm Actor of his curse, and the miracle yesterday that had cured her leg. By the time she had finished, the sky outside was black. She expected an ovation, for she was sure that it had been the finest performance of her life. She was greeted by a numbing silence. Well, no matter! People did not applaud in a temple, and today this cave was a temple. Silence itself was appreciation; the cave was very still. Not a cough. She had preached for the heretic. She had no regrets—although she wondered what her father thought of her now.

  She spun around on her podium, planning to jump down into D'ward's arms for a little hug and a whispered congratulation, perhaps even a quick kiss.

  But D'ward had gone.

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  43

  As Eleal Singer began working up a serious sweat in her highly dramatized version of The Coming of the Liberator, D'ward nodded to Dosh to follow him and slipped away from the little group around the fire. Unnoticed by the intently listening pilgrims, he moved off into the dark. Doing the same was not quite so easy for a man loaded like a turtle with Prat'han's great shield, but Dosh accepted the challenge.

  He reached the toe of the rockfall first. D'ward arrived, then turned around to look for his missing follower. Like an unusually silent shadow, Dosh stepped in close behind him and whispered, “Master?"

  D'ward jumped rewardingly and then laughed. “You trying to frighten me to death?” In the faint glimmer from the many fires, his face was hardly more than a blur, but he was smiling, and if anyone's smile could glow in the dark, it would be his. “You know this cave?"

  "Best lodgings in the Vales, for the price."

  "True. So you know the little hollow back there?"

  Dosh nodded. “It's called the Fleapit."

  "Probably well deserved. I asked Kilpian to get a fire going. Try and keep everyone except friends and shield-bearers away, will you?"

  Oh, blazes! The cave was fifty strides wide, and although the main path over the rockfall was well defined, there were other low spots. Dosh had spent days exploring Roaring Cave in his youth, for it was a favorite Tinkerfolk campsite. He knew six or seven passable routes to the Fleapit. Dusk was falling, but with so many fires burning, the cavern would not be truly dark. Intruders could manage the barrier without a torch if they took it slowly.

  He sighed. “You always give me the tough ones!"

  "I do,” D'ward said solemnly. “That's partly because I can rely on you to tackle them better than anyone else. It's also because I know you like getting the tough ones.” He grinned again. “Don't you?"

  "No!” But then Dosh realized that he did enjoy the unfamiliar sensation of being trusted, which was probably the same thing. “Well, maybe. I suppose I do.” He hadn't really known that, but it was true. Not for the first time, he wondered if the Liberator knew him better than he knew himself. “I'll see you're not disturbed, master."

  D'ward squeezed his shoulder. “Good man. You never let me down, Dosh.” He faded away into the gloom.

  Dosh stood for a moment, savoring those final words. Never let him down! How good that felt! And how strange that he should think so—he, Dosh Envoy, who had never before cared for anything except carnal pleasure, the kinkier the better. Some miracles were less obvious than others.... Then he heaved Prat'han's shield straight on his shoulders, adjusted the (horribly light) money bag on his belt, and set off to locate some helpers.

  He enlisted shield-bearers Tielan and Gastik, two friends, and also three Niolian youngsters he'd picked out earlier as promising recruits. Then he found Tittrag Mason, a new shield-bearer who was big enough to move the whole rockfall single-handed.

  He posted them in pairs to cover the most likely paths over the pile. None of them was very happy at the prospect, thinking of reapers.

  "Don't worry about them,” he said. “A reaper can go by without being seen if he wants to, and in this case he won't want to leave bodies around to raise the alarm, right? The same thing's true of Eltiana cultists or Blood-and-Hammer thugs, or any other assassins the evil sorcerers may send against D'ward. Don't worry about them, because they won't worry about you, and you can't do anything about them anyway. If they do turn up, D'ward will deal with them. Your job is strictly pest control. Be polite and understanding, but firm. If you have any trouble, shout for me. I'll be going up and down the line."

  Pest control. Some people just had to speak to the Liberator personally, to explain their problems, the gods’ truth, or his mistakes. D'ward dealt with most of those during the day, but that sort could never understand that he might have more important business to attend to, such as sleeping. The worst pests by far were the priests. There were dozens of priests around now, every one of them determined to stamp out his heresy.

  Dosh began patrolling back and forth across the toe of the rockfall, keeping both eyes wide open, watching anyone who headed deeper into the cave and also watching his helpers. He was annoyed to discover how easily he could work his way past them without their seeing him. He was a very good sneak, of course, after a lifetime's practice, but others might be just as good.

  There was too much cover, too many people in the cave, too little light. Even if he had the fuel to build a chain of fires from one wall to the other, there would still be too many shadows. The job D'ward had given him this time wasn't just tough, it was an eyelash short of impossible.

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  44

  "Crikey!” Jumbo said. “For a native, she's quite a performer!” He was sitting near a smoky little fire at the far side of Roaring Cave, leaning his arms on his knees and looking as totally relaxed as if he were watching a cricket match on a village green.

  Alice refrained from comment. He was referring to the famous Miss Eleal, who had certainly grown up from the child Edward had described in 1917. She had grown out, too, in conspicuous places.

  Riding a dragon had been a very strange experience, but this cave was stranger yet. Never would Alice have believed that her next meeting with her cousin would take place in such grotesque surroundings. When she came in, she had known his voice at once, even reverberating in that huge, echoing space, even speaking whatever dialect that was. He had not been speaking in tongues, as Zath had, yet she had often been able to catch the gist of his words. Later she had
seen him in the distance. He had not changed a bit, except that now he had a beard. It did not suit him, but it might be required wear for the unlikely career he had chosen. He was obviously doing very well in it. Hundreds of people were grouped around dozens of twinkling fires under a blue haze of wood smoke. It all looked rather like one of Uncle Roly's more lurid descriptions of Hell, except that no one was screaming or suffering. Quite the reverse—this cavern was a node, and the virtuality added an unnerving aura of holiness to the proceedings. She had been tempted to stand up and shout, “He's only Edward! I knew him when he picked his nose and woke up crying from nightmares."

  She hadn't, of course. Nobody would have understood her anyway. But it was definitely an odd feeling to have a holy man in the family.

  A woman with a shield on her back was shouting over the rising buzz of conversation.

  "Now what's going on?” Alice demanded.

  "She says,” Jumbo drawled, “that the train on platform four is the express to Pontefract and Llandudno."

  "I shall ask my cousin to turn you into a pillar of salt."

  "Actually she said that there's food coming, that the ladies’ room is over that way and the gentlemen's that way, and could she have some volunteers to fetch firewood?"

  "Go ahead and volunteer,” Alice said. “Shouldn't we be checking on the dragons, anyway? Suppose somebody steals them?"

  "Then we walk home. They'll be all right. I think it's time to go and have a word with our esteemed Liberator.” Jumbo sprang nimbly to his feet and held out a hand to aid her. All over the cave, people were rising to stretch their legs. The darkness seemed to move in as bodies blocked the firelight.

  "I don't see him now,” she said.

  "I know where he went. Come on. If we get separated, I'll meet you underneath that molar, all righty?” Gesturing at a prominent stalactite, Jumbo took her hand and set off confidently across the cavern floor. His strong left arm cleared a way through the milling throng while he growled peremptory apologies. It seemed odd that he should be so little concerned for the safety of the livestock he had left to graze unattended outside the cave. Until this evening he had fussed over them as if they were prize racehorses. Still, he must know what he was doing. All the way from Olympus, he had been a competent guide and an enjoyable companion.

  She was about to meet Edward. That was why she had come. Would he feel she was meddling? That had been a danger all along. Now there was something new. Now she had seen a blind man given back his sight and a feverish, whimpering baby come suddenly to life and start laughing. Faith healing might explain the man, but not the baby, and she wasn't sure how far she believed in faith healing anyway. Had anyone else staged those miracles, she would have been sure that they had been faked, the “invalids” being accomplices planted ahead of time in the audience.

  Edward wouldn't do that. If he had worked miracles, then they had been genuine miracles. Magic, of course—Miss Pimm could use magic and the rules of the parallel worlds would give Edward on Nextdoor the powers Miss Pimm had on Earth. All the same, it was disturbing to see the cousin she had known all her life, her foster brother, deliberately playing Jesus. There could be no doubt that that was what he was doing. Although she thought of herself as a Christian, she liked to believe she was tolerant and broad-minded. His performance made her uneasy, but it could hardly be blasphemous in a world where Christianity did not exist—or could it? She must not jump to conclusions. Doubtless he would explain his reasons to her. Even if he wouldn't, she would trust him and not ask.

  She felt a vicarious pride at the numbers he had collected. My cousin the messiah...

  She followed Jumbo through the crowd, weaving between clusters of people, heading for the depths of the cave. Soon their way was blocked by a wall of rubble and megalithic blocks and frozen rivers of stalagmites. The ominous irregularities overhead showed where masses of stone had fallen off and crashed to the ground. This cave was old. The odds of another fall happening just as she was passing underneath were remote—remote but still hard to ignore. There was almost no light here, far from the arch and the fires. She had never suffered from claustrophobia before, so why start now? It was only virtuality making her skin crawl, wasn't it?

  As she neared the foot of the rockfall, she heard voices raised in argument. Suddenly Jumbo halted, listening. In front of a wall of cyclopean boulders, three figures in gowns were confronting two men, one of whom bore a round shield and a dangerous-looking spear. Even without understanding the words, it was obvious to Alice that the three were demanding and the two were refusing. The subject of their disputation seemed to be access to an ominous dark notch.

  "What's going on?” she whispered.

  Jumbo said, “Sh!” In a moment, though, the three turned away and headed back to the main gathering, muttering angrily. The two stayed where they were.

  "It appears,” Jumbo said quietly, “that our reverend friend does not wish to be disturbed. Those monk-chappies were priests—Tion's I think. Let's see if we can do any better."

  He led her forward again, passing the three grumbling clerics, heading for the two gatekeepers.

  "They don't look much like a welcoming committee,” she murmured.

  "Just keeping the riffraff out. I'm sure they'll recognize a lady when they see one."

  Alice did not feel much like a lady. The last few days had done nothing for her coiffeur or complexion; she was still bundled in heavy, waterlogged furs, smelling strongly of wet sheep. The guards did not spring smartly to attention at the sight of her.

  Jumbo drawled an explanation as he went by—tried to go by. He stopped at the sharp end of the spear. His tone changed, but still displayed the blithe arrogance of stranger-hood.

  The spear did not waver. The other guard growled a response.

  Jumbo tried again, in yet another voice. That one worked no better. He was obviously taken aback by this failure of charisma.

  "You're not wearing the old school tie,” Alice suggested and gave her knuckles a mental rap for tactlessness.

  Jumbo shot her an acid glance. “I'm tempted to turn them both into pumpkins."

  "An intemperate response ... Can you?"

  "Not until midnight.” He launched into a longer, quieter speech. That one at least produced a civil reply. It even had hints of regret in it, but it was still clearly a refusal.

  Then a third man drifted in out of the darkness. He was short and very blond, and at first glance Alice thought he was just a boy. Then she noted that he, too, bore a shield on his back. He had no spear, but he was obviously in charge.

  Jumbo began again, and this time Alice heard her own name and others: “Ursula,” “Captain,” and “Jumbo.” He was having to beg, and he would not like that. Something he said impressed the blond boy, who snapped out an order, and the guard who did not have a shield turned and disappeared into the opening between the two great rocks.

  That was progress. It left four people standing in near darkness: two very vigilant and suspicious guards, one toe-tapping, heel-cooling, icily furious Jumbo, and one Alice trying not to let her amusement show.

  "Where are we trying to get to, anyway?” she asked.

  "Hrnnph! There's an inner cave here behind this rockfall. I've slept there many times. Travelers prefer it, because it's cosy. Tends to be warm in winter and cool in summer. Obviously that's where Exeter's hiding out."

  Jumbo fell silent again. Minutes dragged by. In the outer cave, the pilgrims had begun singing. The tonality was strange, but the beat was rousing enough—possibly the Valian equivalent of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Had Edward taught them the Fallow school song yet?

  "There are other ways over, this junk heap,” Jumbo growled.

  "Patience!” she said soothingly. “He's a celebrity, remember. He can't let himself be pestered all the time."

  Light flickered. Out of the canyon emerged a flaming torch carried by a woman. She came to a halt and raised it to inspect the supplicants.

  "Evenin
g, Jumbo. And good evening to you, Miss Prescott. I'm Ursula Newton."

  "Charmed,” Alice replied, blinking against the light. “Actually, I'm Mrs. Pearson now.” Why the devil should that matter here? “But still Edward's cousin, of course."

  At that point, Jumbo should have spoken, or Mrs. Newton should have offered to lead the visitors to the holy of holies. Instead, she just stood and looked hard at each of them in turn. Alice felt twinges of apprehension. She had come so far. What could be wrong now?

  "Is Captain Smedley with you?” she asked.

  "No, he's on his way back to Olympus.” Ursula Newton was a solid, powerful-looking woman, wearing a thick woolen robe of Valian cut. Her hair was unusually short and her manner definitely suspicious. “Forgive me if I ask you a couple of questions?"

  "Dammit all, Ursula!” Jumbo said. “What's got into you?"

  "Prudence.” She turned her watchful gaze on Alice. “Who was Bujja, Mrs. Pearson?"

  "Who?” Merciful heavens! “Edward's nursemaid at Nyagatha."

  "And Spots?"

  "That was a leopard cub we tried to domesticate once, without much—"

  "Wrong answer!"

  For a moment Alice just stared at the woman, quite unable to believe this was happening. Then she said, “Oh! It was also Julian Smedley, when he was national acne champion."

  Ursula relaxed visibly. Her smile was not exactly winsome, though. “Thank you. The Liberator has to be extremely careful, you see, and news of your arrival here was a surprise."

  Jumbo laughed. “Oh, he's ‘the Liberator’ now, is he? Have you changed sides, Ursula, darling?"

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not really. I still think he made a serious mistake in launching this crusade. Now he's done so, I believe it must be carried forward as well as possible. And you?"

  "Much the same. We didn't come to try and talk him out of it, whatever you may have told Exeter. We have some interesting news for him."

  "Then Mrs. Pearson can pass it on. He prefers not to meet with you, Jumbo."

  "I quite understand.” Spoken like a gentleman, but even in the flickering light of the torch, Jumbo's flush showed. “Give him my regards, won't you?” He turned and stalked away before Alice could think of anything to say. How awful!