Paul O Williams - [Pelbar Cycle 04]

by The Fall of the Shell (v0. 9) (epub)

  The Ardena stared at the wall, at first humoring the boy, then seeing ramifications in what he said that he never could have seen. She started, rose, went to the wall and reached out to it, touching some of the figures. At last she asked, “How do you know you have read the top row in the right order? Perhaps Threerivers comes last.”

  “No, Ardena. See the small dot in the lower right of the butterfly? It’s also on the blocks with the running man. I think that is a period. We know that the butterfly has to be in that same order, so I think that Craydor is telling us that I have to become free of Threerivers.”

  The Ardena slumped back down. “The letters, then. I suppose they say something as well.”

  “They did in the last cell. I haven’t been able to work it out here. There they said, ‘The purpose of this shell too is to enhance life. Therefore, be enhanced.’ I haven’t really come to understand that yet.”

  The Ardena sat as if stunned, her eyes glancing across the walls of the cell. “Brudoer, do you know what the Protector has in mind now? She means for Pion, your own father, to take the whipping for you. You’ll just have to apologize, then, to be released.”

  Brudoer jumped to his feet. “Father? My whipping? No. She can’t condemn an innocent person. Let her do it to me, not him. Damn her, the pile of old fish entrails. What can be done?”

  “If you apologize before your father is beaten, then she assures me that the strokes will be very light.”

  Brudoer seemed to lose all his stiffness. “I must not be taken from these cells,” he said.

  “Then your father will be beaten.”

  “I cannot allow that.” He looked up at her. “He’s, my father,” he said, simply. “Maybe she’s won after all, then.” Brudoer began to ' cry, covering his face with his hands. The Ardena put her hands on his shoulders.

  “Think it over, then. When I came down here I was sure what you should do. Now I’m not so sure,” she said, looking around the room. “Brudoer, you’re not to tell me what these letters mean, if you learn it. I’m grateful for your confidence, but this is your own job, not mine.”

  “Tell my father everything, then, and ask him what to do. Please?”

  The Ardena kissed the boy’s forehead and walked to the door, rapping on the barred window with her ring. As she slipped through the doorway, she waved at the boy, who waved back.

  Brudoer returned to the letter code from the first cell and solved it easily. It was simple and innocuous, merely repeating the beliefs of Craydor as learned by all first-year schoolchildren. Why had Cradyor designed it that way? He could only speculate, but it seemed, after he thought of it, to fit her pattern. If a prisoner in the first cell solved it, he would feel it had been put there only in a kindly attempt to amuse and instruct him. If he were then put into the next cell, against traditional and lawful Pelbar rule, he would be prepared to work on that code by knowing of the first. It hadn’t worked that way for Brudoer, but he’d had to calm down and begin to reason again before patterns began to open to him. He thought it odd that Bival’s instruction was paying off now in a way she had never imagined it would. It seemed a supreme irony, somehow.

  As night settled on the west bank of the Heart, over a half-ayas downriver from Jaiyan’s Station, Gamwyn built a fire, using a trick the old Siveri, Odsem, had taught him. All he needed was his folding knife for whittling and a tunic lace to make a bowstring. The rest he had taken from the dry underside of a dead tree. He felt proud of himself. In the morning he would start south after a fish breakfast. He was confident of finding fish in his new weirs because he had tended Jaiyan’s with good success. Well after dark he heard a slight sound toward the river, and, getting up, he found Misque with a bundle.

  “Misque? Will he find out? What’s he doing? How is everyone staying warm?”

  “They’ve built shelters of the boards. They’ll be all right. Here. Don’t worry about him. He half expected me to come here.”

  “He won’t hurt you?”

  “No. He knows that you didn’t put all the rot in his house. He’s still angry, but he can see through it now. He is angry with the organ now. He knows he neglected everything for it.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish he could build it at Threerivers, indoors there. It would be a great contribution.”

  Misque laughed, bitterly it seemed to Gamwyn, then handed him the bundle and turned to go. He took her arm. “Can’t we kiss good-bye?”

  “No, Gamwyn. Let me alone.” She turned to go. Gamwyn simply stood, watching her as she slid her feet out onto the wet ice. She stopped and turned, then came back and put her arms around him, holding him tight against her. “I wish ... I wish ...”

  “When I come back, where will you be?”

  “Come back? Will you, then? Do you think you really can? If you do, I’ll be on the far side of a lot of awfulness.” She pushed him away and left, walking out into the darkness.

  “Take care,” he called out after her.

  Brudoer wiped the sweat from his face after his exercises. He was in a quandary. He had less than two weeks to work it out now, and he hadn’t even decoded the message on the wall. Perhaps Udge would win. He looked again at the wall, again used the paper the Ardena had given him. The letters formed three groups, separated by stars:

  TM. TOTIWPCMAEHFIHSHLVADELRWDOEOOEYTEIVIMOSES. EIS-TPNLDINI * HIUTLAHSHOSEUSTNHTLOYNFLCDOGN.SMRTDRM-EHULEHAHGNMODGMLW * EHRNELIIHDSRTISEEE.MLBAOIEO-PN,SAAOHNISRFSLLSRTEIYENAL *

  He worked at it once again. He realized already that this was a much more difficult cipher than those he had already deciphered. No clues flashed into his vision this time. However, after many trials he noticed that the first letter of each group formed the. Was that a start? After all, there was another the in the last group. He tried the next three. mih. Perhaps it was an accident. What then if Craydor was working this cipher from both ends, as she had the last one? Brudoer decided at last to assume that. This would mean that every other letter in each group would be every third letter in the message, though he would have eventually to work from both ends to get it all.

  He worked much of the day, the letters blurring before his eyes again and again. At times he forgot what he was doing and had to start all over again. But at last what came out of the letters read; the turtle which has shut its shell may be forced open, so may the river mussels, a rightminded man willingly opens the shell of his

  MIND TO REASON, GOODWILL AND LOVE. THEN HIS FREEDOM IS PLAIN TO HIM.

  Brudoer’s heart sank. All that work and worry, and it seemed to mean nothing. But perhaps this too was Cray-dor’s challenge. He was being tested by the difficulty of the cipher; she didn’t want anyone merely good at ciphers to understand her. He had to look further. But as the days passed, nothing came to him. At last he walked slowly around the room examining the reliefs of the turtles and shells, testing each with his fingers. He felt nothing.

  Several more days passed, and he sank into a desperate, almost frantic state. He knew he had to calm himself. Something ought to be plain. After his meal one late afternoon, he walked around the room again, tapping at the reliefs with his spoon. One turtle rang differently. He tapped again, carefully. Yes, he was sure of it. Carefully he worked the handle of the spoon around the stone, but it seemed'tightly in place. He continued over a quarter period from sundown to high night, but it was no use. It was a typical, mortarless Pelbar joint.

  He gave up, then lay back in his bed musing. After high night, when his lamp was removed, he recalled the message once more, its shell may be forced open. Perhaps it was not the whole stone, but only the shell. He had seen nothing. He groped toward the wall in the pitch blackness, but, unable to find the right stone, he gave up until morning.

  When the daylight filtered down through the thin window of his cell, he again went to the stone, and with care hooked the handle of the spoon here and there into the shell of the turtle. Working around the edge of the plastron, he felt a slight grating, and at last the fitted piece worked its way loose and came
out in his hand. Within the stone lay a large metal box with a hinged lid. Brudoer reached in and took it out. Beneath the box lay a small roll of the seven essays of Craydor, which he had been taught as a child. It was crisp and its edges were crumbling, but he found he could unroll it enough to read it.

  But his immediate attention went to the metal box. It, too, was shell-shaped. The curved lid was plain and dull on top, but the edges were finely decorated with a motif of turtle and mussel shells. The sides of the box curved down and around to complete the strange shell shape, which Brudoer recognized as that of the Protector’s Broad Tower again—the same as Bival’s shell, which he had helped to break. Strange feelings blew through him, but in his eagerness to study the box, he stifled them. It seemed reasonable that he could open it as he had the wall box, so he put his thumbnail under one of the turtle shells and lifted. Nothing gave. He continued around. As he tested the third turtle, the lid lifted.

  Inside lay a gold bracelet of incredible beauty, decorated with the motifs of the cell, turtle and mussel shells, the stages of the developing butterfly, and the running man. Brudoer lifted it from the box. A note written on thick parchment fluttered out with it. Brudoer took it over below the window and smoothed it out. In faint, brown ink was written:

  This bracelet is for him who has been in all of the first three cells for a full term of punishment. Read the inscription inside it, put it on and do not remove it. You will know how to put it on. May it bless you in your quest for freedom. Plainly you have suffered by now. Likely you will continue to suffer. Please replace this note in the stone. Give the box as a gift, unopened. Do not tell its secret. Do not tell the secret of the stone unless forced. You are learning what I had to learn. Design is not complete unless it includes all within its scope. There is no healthy body if the eye, the hand, the liver, the stomach are denied. All the parts must be cared for. Take my love with you and remember that you will have to bear up under many things. Remember too that you have only begun to learn. Continue.

  Craydor, Founder of Threerivers Brudoer held the note a long time, trying to memorize it. Then he knew it was nearly time for the guardsmen to bring his water for washing. He put the note back into the stone, replacing the turtle and hiding the box and bracelet in his bedding.

  Almost immediately, the door bolt ground back and the massive door swung open. Three guardsmen entered with warm water, soap, and towels. As usual, they stood silently as he washed himself and poured the water down the drain. But as he handed back the bucket and basin, one said, “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? You would do well to apologize to Bival and stop this viciousness.”

  Brudoer looked at him. “I still have to bear up under many things,” he said enigmatically.

  “You little snot. You will apologize or it won’t go well with you. Or your father. We have the beating of him. We can manage it so he will feel it cut to his ribs. Don’t forget that.”

  Brudoer blanched. “This isn’t Craydor’s way,” he said. “Nor Craydor’s time. We’ve lost guardsmen because of you. The city is in turmoil. It’s going to stop in two days. Is that understood?”

  The door, which had stood ajar all the time, moved slightly, and the Ardena and Warret entered. The guardsmen started and the one shouted, “Out. This is guardsmen’s work. You were not given permission. Out now.” “Yes, we will leave for now,” said the Ardena. “Nevertheless, we heard.”

  The guardsman smiled grimly. “You did? And where is your sword?”

  The Ardena said nothing, but turned and left.

  Again the guardsman turned to Brudoer. “You see? The trouble continues. Remember what I said. Remember if you have afay regard, for your father.” They turned and left, slamming the heavy door behind them.

  Brudoer sank down and found himself sweating. The thin shaft of sun moved slowly across the stones of the room, but he barely moved. Finally he stirred himself and went to his bed, uncovering the bracelet. In the sunlight he looked at it and read the inscription inside, which said, “This bracelet is the gift of Craydor to someone who has been in all of the first three cells for a full term of punishment—proof of his misuse by authority. It is for no one else. The rich and powerful will seek to have it, but if they gain it from him, it will be by force and injustice alone. Craydor, Founder of Threerivers.”

  It was too small a bracelet to slip over the hand, but Brudoer again put his nail under one of the small turtles on the design and snapped it open, slipping it on and shutting it. It was impossible to see how it fastened. It might have been forged on his wrist. He would have to hide it, he thought, when they took him from his cell. But then he remembered the note. Craydor had commanded that it be put on and not taken off. Well, that was fine for her, but Brudoer knew it would cause him endless trouble.

  But then the bracelet had its inscription. It was his. Brudoer could see that Craydor had something in mind. He would keep it and wear it. But what about his father? The boy again sank into thought, wondering what would ever happen to them.

  As he mused over this, the guardsman reported to Udge in the Broad Tower. “He seems as unrepentant as ever, Protector.”

  “You did mention again what would happen to his father.”

  “Yes, Protector. He recoiled at that. But then he said, ‘I still have to bear up under many things.’ The little snot.”

  “He said that?” Bival interposed.

  “Yes, Southcounsel.”

  “It’s from Craydor’s fourth essay.”

  “Enough, Bival. Yes, yes—the one about what would happen to Threerivers if we ever stop respecting one another.. I’ve heard far too much about Craydor lately. I assume the boy learned that in his schooling, as all do.”

  “It makes me uneasy.”

  “You needn’t be. You have your responsibility in this, but the trouble was surely present before you lost your precious shell.” Udge turned to the guardsman and dismissed him. He bowed and left. Again the Protector turned to her four quadrant counsels and her crony, Dardan.

  “This next few days may well be the ultimate crisis for the foreseeable future. I have sifted the guard and determined the absolutely faithful ones. There is rebellion abroad. This city will operate only when the supremacy of the Protector is unquestioned. It is like a beehive and will swarm if a new queen is bred in it. We have already had some swarming, but it has served to bleed off the drones. Perhaps a few more will go, but we cannot afford a large exodus. The boy’s father will not budge. I would welcome the chance to cow him with a good beating. The boy is as stiff, and an apology from him may serve as well.

  “But we don’t want a reconciliation at this point. We need to stifle the opposition, to overwhelm them. I know I have the support of the family heads. Too many have suffered through this crisis. They can see a rebellion and know how to deal with it.”

  “But Protector,” Bival said, “Craydor herself said that reconciliation is the best—”

  “I don’t need to be told what Craydor said, Bival. If you should ever become Protector, you will understand that Craydor is all right in her place. When you have opposition, you find some statement of the founder that will support you. Then you honey it all over the opposition and go on with business. That is the chief use of Craydor at this point. You have to remember that she herself said that no generation can rest on the genius of the former ones. Each must rely on its own, because no generation is stronger than those who are in it. Craydor is fine, and undoubtedly she was a genius herself, but we must progress. She isn’t around to direct us. Now. The guard is doubled. All are standing double watch and will continue to until well after the punishment. I have heard of murmurings among the fuel-bearers, the mushroom-culture workers, the water-lifters, and even the beekeepers. But they are only workers and it is only talk.

  “We will keep it there, and stifle even that. This city has always operated well because there was no crack in it, no chink for a mouse to get in or heat to escape. We’ll see that it continues. Prepare your quadrant
s. We have only two days now. You may go.”

  After the counsels filed out, Udge called for more tea and sat brooding. She was less satisfied with Bival than ever. Though the South counsel had started the trouble, she was not working in unison with the Protector. Udge saw the woman would have to be replaced. She would ask Dardan to move into the south quadrant immediately so that she’d be an established resident in time for the next election.

  For her part, Bival went to the fourth essay of Craydor again, and read the passage Brudoer had quoted and the surrounding material. The goodwill and. wisdom of the founder began to flood her spirit, and she saw increasingly the abomination of the present situation. Things were intolerable. She would try to see the boy. She left her room and descended the long winding stairs to the base of the city, stopping to get the Ardena’s nephew, Arlin, to accompany her. As she entered the anteroom of the ice caves, she came upon a small meeting of men seated on the floor, playing dice, each with a small lamp. She paused. They looked at her silently. Warret was one of them. “Warret,” she began.

  “Later. I am in the middle of a game.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  The men looked at him. He stood and dusted himself. “Well?”

  “Come with me. Only a few sunwidths. I wish to see the boy for a moment. But I wish to talk with you first.”

  Hostility hung in the air like the smoke of wet leaves. Warret gestured to the men, then walked aside with her, out under the arches that led to the row of cells.

  “This has gone too far, Warret. It is out of hand. I need no apology. I want to draw the city together again. I—” “You picked a strange way to do it.”

  “I was wrong. I know it. I know I have a temper. But now I see that all along Udge has seized every advantage in the hope of gaining complete control over the city. It’s only in theory, though. She doesn’t know how false she is. She believes herself right. Can you keep them from an open break? We must. We owe it to all the history of the city.” Warret said nothing. She reached out to him. ‘‘Come with me to see the boy,” she said. “I can go. I can bring you. I have the right by law'.”