by Anthology
The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the expression. He sensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the soldier's eye.
"Tell me," commanded Chick. "What is this Day of which you speak!"
XXXVI
AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND
The soldier replied unhesitatingly: "It is the Day of Life, my lord. Others call it the 'first of the Sixteen Days.' Still others, simply the Day of the Prophet, or Jarados."
"When will it be?"
"Soon. It is but two days hence. And with the going down of the sun on that day the Fulfilment is to begin, and the Life is to come. Hence the crowd below, my lord; yet they are nothing compared with the crowds that today are pressing their way from all D'Hartia and Kospia towards the Mahovisal."
"All because of the Day?"
"And to see YOU, my lord."
"All believers in the Jarados?"
"All truly; but they do not all believe in your lordship. There are many sects, including the Bars, that consider you an imposter; but the rest—perhaps the most—believe you the Herald of the Day. All want to see you, for whatever motive."
"These Bars; who are they?"
"The military priesthood, my lord. As priests they teach a literal interpretation of the prophecy; as soldiers they maintain their own aggrandisement. To be more specific, my lord, it is they who accuse you of being one of the false ones."
"Why?"
"Because it is written in the prophecy, my lord, that we may expect impostors, and that we are to slay them."
"Then this coming contest with the Senestro—" beginning to sense the drift of things.
"Yes, my lord; it will be a physical contest, in which the best man destroys the other!"
The guard was a tall, finely made and truly handsome chap of perhaps thirty-five. Watson liked the clear blue of his eyes and the openness of his manner. At the same time he felt that he was being weighed and balanced.
"My lord is not afraid?"
"Not at all! I was just thinking—when does this kill take place?"
"Two days hence, my lord; on the first of the Sixteen Sacred Days."
And thus Chick found a staunch friend. The soldier's name, he learned, was "the Jan Lucar." He was supreme in command of the royal guards; and Chick soon came to feel that the man would as cheerfully lay down his life for him, Watson, as for the queen herself. All told, Chick was able to store away in his memory a few very important facts:
First, that the Aradna did not like the Senestro.
Second, that the Jan Lucar hated the great Bar because of the prince's ambition to wed the queen and her cousin, the Nervina; also because of his selfish, autocratic ways.
Next, that were the Nervina on hand she would thwart the Senestro; for she was a very learned woman, as advanced as the Rhamda Avec himself. But that she was a queen first and a scholar afterwards; her motive in going through the Blind Spot was to take care of the political welfare of her people, her purposes were as high as Rhamda Avec's, but partook of statesmanship rather than spirituality.
Finally, that the Rhamdas were perfectly willing for the coming contest to take place, on the evening of the Day of the Prophet, in the Temple of the Bell and Leaf.
"Jan Lucar," Watson felt prompted to say, "you need have no fear as to the outcome of the ordeal, whatever it may be. With your faith in me, I cannot fail. For the present, I need books, papers, scientific data. Moreover, I want to see the outside of this building."
The guardsman bowed. "The data is possible, my lord, but as to leaving the building—I must consult the queen and the Rhamda Geos first."
"But I said MUST" Watson dared to say. "I must go out into your world, see your cities, your lands, rivers, mountains, before I do aught else. I must be sure!"
The other bowed again. He was visibly impressed.
"What you ask, my lord, is full of danger. You must not be seen in the streets—yet. Untold bloodshed would ensue inevitably. To half the Thomahlians you are sacred, and to the other half an impostor. I repeat, my lord, that I must see the Geos and the queen."
Another bow and the Jan disappeared, to return in a few moments with the Geos.
"The Jan has told me, my lord, that you would go out."
"If possible. I want to see your world."
"I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?"
"Presently." Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already puzzled over. "This represents the Thomahlia?"
"Yes, my lord."
"How long is your day, Geos?"
"Twenty-four hours,"
"I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one year-circle?"
As he uttered the question Chick held his breath. It had suddenly struck him that he had touched an extremely definite point. The answer might PLACE him!
"You mean, my lord, how long is a circle in term of days?"
"Yes!"
"Three hundred and sixty-five and a fraction, my lord."
Watson was dumbfounded. Could there be, in all the universe, another world with precisely the same revolution period? But he could not afford to show his concern. He said:
"Tell me, have you a moon?"
"Yes; it has a cycle of about twenty-eight days."
Watson drew a deep breath. Inconceivable though it appeared, he was still on his own earth. For a moment he pondered, wondering if he had been caught up in tangle of time-displacement. Could it be that, instead of living in the present, he had somehow become entangled in the past or in the future?
If so—and by now he was so accustomed to the unusual that he considered this staggering possibility with equanimity—if the time coefficient was at fault, then how to account for the picture of the professor, in that leaf? Had they both been the victims of a ghastly cosmic joke?
There was but one way to find out.
"Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!"
XXXVII
LOOKING DOWN
Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was filled by a number of queer, shining objects. At first glance Chick took them to be immense beetles.
The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos:
"We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec."
Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic floor.
"I presume," apologised the Geos, "that you have much finer aircraft in your world."
Aircraft! Watson was all eagerness. He saw that the June Bug was about ten feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body. On closer scrutiny he could make out the outlines of wings folded tight against the sides. As for the material, it must have been metal, to use a term which does not explain very much, after all. In every respect the machine was a duplicate of some great insect, except that instead of legs it had well-braced rollers.
"How does it operate?" Watson wanted to know. "That is, what power do you use, and how do you apply it?"
The Jan Lucar threw back a plate. Watson looked inside, and saw a mass of fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit's hair, all radiating from a central grey object about the size of a pea. Chick reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back.
"Pardon me, my lord!" he exclaimed. "But you must not touch it! You—even you, would be annihilated!" Then to the Lucar: "Very well."
Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a lever, perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull red.
"Now you may touch it," said the Geos.
But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
"All very interesting, but where is your machinery?"
The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. "You must give us a
little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we have passed beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey pellet is, of course, our motive force; it is a highly refined mineral, which we mine in vast quantity. It has been in use for centuries. As for the hair-like web, that is our idea of a transmission."
Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt. The other continued:
"In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as possible. We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and instead tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the birds and insects. We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is intrinsic. In some respects, we have improved upon life."
"But it is still only a machine, Geos."
"To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life principle must remain so."
The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to lower and thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy apartment fitted with wicker chairs, and large enough for four persons. There was some sort of control gear, which the Jan Lucar explained was not connected directly with the flying and steering members, but indirectly through the membranes of the web-like system. It was uncannily similar to the nervous connections of the cerebellum with the various parts of the anatomy of an insect.
"Does it travel very fast?"
"We think so, my lord. This is the private machine of the Rhamda Avec. It is rather small, but the swiftest machine in the Thomahlia."
They entered the compartment, Watson took his seat beside the Geos, while the soldier sat forward next to the control elements. He laid his hands on certain levers; next instant, the machine was gliding noiselessly over the mosaic, on to a short incline and thence, with ever increasing speed, toward and through the open side of the room.
The slides had all been thrown back; the compartment was enclosed only in glass. Watson could get a clear view, and he was amazed at the speed of the craft. Before he could think they were out in mid-air and ascending skyward. Travelling on a steep slant, there was no vibration, no mechanical noise; scarcely the suggestion of movement, except for the muffled swish of the air.
Were it not for the receding city below him, Chick could have imagined himself sitting in a house while a windstorm tore by. He felt no change in temperature or any other ill effects; the cabin was fully enclosed, and heated by some invisible means. In short, ideal flight: for instance, the seats were swung on gimbals, so that no matter at what angle the craft might fly, the passengers would maintain level positions.
Below stretched the Mahovisal—a mighty city of domes and plazas, and, widely scattered, a few minarets. At the southern end there was a vast, square plaza, covering thousands of acres. Toward it, on two sides, converged scores of streets; they stretched away from it like the ribs of a giant fan. On the remaining two sides there was a tremendously large building with a V-shaped front, opening on the square. The play of opal light on its many-bubbled roof resembled the glimmer from a vast pearl.
In the air above the city an uncountable number of very small objects darted hither and thither like sparkling fireflies. It was difficult to realise that they, too, were aircraft.
To the west lay an immense expanse of silver, melting smoothly into the horizon. Watson took it to be the Thomahlian ocean. Then he looked up at the sky directly above him, and breathed a quick exclamation.
It was a single, small object, perfectly white, dropping out of the amethyst. Tiny at first, amost instantly it assumed a proportion nearly colossal—a great bird, white as the breast of the snowdrift, swooping with the grace of the eagle and the speed of the wind. It was so very large that it seemed, to Chick, that if all the other birds he had ever known were gathered together into one they would still be as the swallow. Down, down it came in a tremendous spiral, until it gracefully alighted in a splash of molten colour on the bosom of the silver sea. For a moment it was lost in a shower of water jewels—and then lay still, a swan upon the ocean.
"What is it, Geos?"
"The Kospian Limited, my lord. One of our great airships—a fast one, we consider it."
"It must accommodate a good many people, Rhamda."
"About nine thousand."
"You say it comes from Kospia. How far away is that?"
"About six thousand miles. It is an eight-hour run, with one stop. Just now the service is every fifteen minutes. They are coming, of course, for the Day of the Prophet."
Watson continued to watch the great airship, noting the swarm of smaller craft that came out from the Mahovisal to greet it, until the Jan Lucar suddenly altered the course. They stopped climbing, and struck out on a horizontal level. It left the Mahovisal behind them, a shimmering spot of fire beside the gleaming sea. They were travelling eastwards. The landscape below was level and unvaried, of a greenish hue, and much like that of Chick's own earth in the early spring-time—a vast expanse, level and sometimes dotted with opalescent towns and cities. Ribbons of silver cut through the plain at intervals, crookedly lazy and winding, indicating a drainage from north to south or vice versa. Looking back to the west, he could see the great, golden sun, poised as he had seen it that morning, a huge amber plate on the rim of the world. It was sunset.
Then Chick looked straight ahead. Far in the distance a great wall loomed skyward to a terrific height. So vast was it and so remote, at first it had escaped the eye altogether. An incredibly high range of mountains, glowing with a faint rose blush under the touch of the setting sun. Against the sky were many peaks, each of them tipped with curious and sparkling diamond-like corruscations. As Chick continued to gaze the rose began to purple.
The Jan Lucar put the craft to another upward climb. So high were they now that the Thomahlia below was totally lost from view; it was but a maze of lurking shadows. The sun was only a gash of amber—it was twilight down on the ground. And Watson watched the black line of the Thomahlian shadow climb the purple heights before him until only the highest crests and the jewelled crags flashed in the sun's last rays. Then, one by one, they flickered out; and all was darkness.
Still they ascended. Watson became uneasy, sitting there in the night.
"Where are we going?"
"To the Carbon Regions, my lord. It is one of the sights of the Thomahlia."
"On top of those mountains?"
"Beyond, my lord."
Whereupon, to Chick's growing amazement, the Geos went on to state that carbon of all sorts was extremely common throughout their world. The same forces that had formed coal so generously upon the earth had thrown up, almost as lavishly, huge quantities of pure diamond. The material was of all colours, as diamonds run, and considered of small value; for every day purposes they preferred substances of more sombre hues. They used it, it seemed, to build houses with.
"But how do they cut it?"
"Very easily. The material which drives this craft—Ilodium—will cut it like butter."
Later, Watson understood. He watched as the craft continued to climb; the Jan Lucar was steering without the aid of any outside lights whatever, there being only a small light illuminating his instruments. Chick presently turned his gaze outside again; whereupon he got another jolt.
He saw a NEGATIVE sky!
At first he thought his eyes the victims of an illusion; then he looked closer. And he saw that it was true; instead of the familiar starry points of light against a velvet background, the arrangement was just the reverse. Every constellation was in its place, just as Chick remembered it from the earth; but instead of stars there were jet-black spots upon a faint, grey background.
The whole sky was one huge Milky Way, except for the black spots. And from it all there shone just about as much total light as from the heavens he had known.
Of all he experienced, this was the most disturbing. It seemed totally against all reason; for he knew the stars to be great incandescent globes in space. How explain that they were here represented in reverse, their brilliance scattered and diffu
sed over the surrounding sky, leaving points of blackness instead? Afterward he learned that the peculiar chemical constituency of the atmosphere was solely responsible for the inversion of the usual order of things.
All of a sudden the Jan Lucar switched the craft to a level. He held up one hand and pointed.
"Look, my lord, and the Rhamda! Look!"
Both men rose from their seats, the better to stare past the soldier. Straight ahead, where had been one of the corruscating peaks, a streak of blue fire shot skyward, a column of light miles high, differing from the beams of a searchlight in that the rays were WAVY, serpentine, instead of straight. It was weirdly beautiful. Geos caught his breath; he leaned forward and touched the Jan Lucar.
"Wait," he said in an awed tone. "Wait a moment. It has never come before, but we can expect it now." And even as he spoke, something wonderful happened.
From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the other bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side. The three streams started from the same point; they made a sort of trident, red, green, and blue—twisting, alive—strangely impressive, suggestive of grandeur and omnipotence—holy.
Again the Rhamda spoke. "Wait!" said he. "Wait!"
They were barely moving now. Watson watched and wondered. The three streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce the heavens; the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter silence, nothing but those beams of glorified light, their reality a hint of power, of life and wisdom—of the certainty of things. Plainly it had a tremendous significance in the minds of the Geos and the Lucar.
Then came the climax. Slowly, but somehow inexorably, like the laws of life itself, and somewhere at a prodigious height above the earth, the three outer ends of the red and the green and the blue spread out and flared back upon themselves and one another, until their combined brilliance bridged a great rainbow across the sky. Blending into all the colours of the prism, the bow became— for a moment—pregnant with an overpowering beauty, symbolical, portentous of something stupendous about to come out of the unknown to the Thomahlians. And next—
