Ethan scanned the slopes for signs of war or discord and allowed himself a silent sigh of relief at finding none. Their deposition of the homicidal former Landgrave had not sparked a civil war in their absence. “Looks peaceful enough.”
September nodded. “Someone’s taken control here, and without a heavy hand. I see new decorative wood carving on some of the buildings and the docks. Oppressed people don’t decorate. Wonder who the new Landgrave is. Maybe that young officer T’hosjer T’hos who finished off Ra-kossa.”
“Could be, but I think the nobles would choose someone with a closer connection to the throne if they could find a distant relative who wasn’t as crazy as Rakossa. We’ll find out soon enough.”
Small ice craft were turning from their courses to parallel and escort the Slanderscree. There was no mistaking the icerigger for any other ship on Tran-ky-ky. Those Poyolavomaarians who had been present when it had passed through on its way to fabled Moulokin recognized it immediately. Citizens of the city-state filled the rigging and lined the rails of their much smaller vessels to offer whistles and shouts of greeting.
One sleek, high-sailed ice boat pulled alongside long enough for a member of its crew to perform a feat of acrobatic derring-do which had even the hardened sailors of Sofold cheering. Using his strong claws to maintain his grip on the wood, he crawled out on the starboard rigger of his ship until he was squatting directly above the single skate at the end. Then he lifted one paw long enough to wave to his helmsman. As that individual delicately manipulated sails and wind, the ice boat’s starboard rigger rose slowly off the ice until it was careening along at sixty kilometers an hour on its fore and aft skates only. A hair more to port, and the boat would roll, smashing itself and its crew against the ice. Back to starboard too suddenly, and the impact would certainly jar the precariously balanced rider loose, to be battered against the ice or thrown beneath the massive skates of the Slanderscree.
Neither happened. With his boat heeled as far to port as possible the daredevil young Tran gathered himself and leaped, his claws and fingers slamming into the scaling ladder built into the icerigger’s side. Immediately his own boat dropped back level with the ice. Several of the Slanderscree’s sailors roared their approval. Others extended willing paws to help the boarder onto the deck.
He was a tall, sleek male, not long out of adolescence. His fur glistened with youth and his eyes shone with excitement as they tried to take in everything at once. They stopped moving only when they caught sight of Ethan and September.
“It is you who helped us to regain our freedom from the tyrant Rakossa. You have come back to us.”
“Just passing through,” said September. “As for regaining your freedom, you did that yourselves.”
“Who reigns in Poyolavomaar now?” Ethan asked.
“T’hosjer T’hos, he who deposed the tyrant.”
“Picked the right individual instead of the right bloodline,” September murmured. “Sensible folk, our Tran.”
“We are looking forward to meeting with your new Landgrave,” Ethan told their visitor.
“And he glad will be to greet you. I hight Neravar Blad-Kagenn, soldier in the Island Guard. I would be honored to accompany you to the castle.”
“Glad to have you aboard.” September looked past the young warrior. His small ship had sped away, probably to convey news of the Slanderscree’s, arrival.
Blad-Kagenn’s gaze traveled from one part of the huge icerigger to the next. “I am almost enjoying myself.”
“Any reason why you shouldn’t?” Ethan inquired curiously.
Blad-Kagenn turned yellow eyes on him. “Because the world is going mad, of course. Have you not heard in the northern lands?”
“I guess not.
“What is such talk?” Hunnar had joined them in time to overhear the warrior’s last comment. Redbeard’s attitude was more formal than that of the two humans, though not unfriendly. For his part Blad-Kagenn lowered his voice out of respect for the senior knight.
“The world is going mad, or so it is said. Perhaps it is nothing more than a rumor.”
Hunnar glanced at Ethan. “Something we should be looking into?”
Ethan shrugged. “Too soon to say. We’ve business of our own to take care of. One crisis at a time.” He returned his attention to Blad-Kagenn. “Tell us of your new Landgrave. We met him only briefly when last we passed through your territory, and at that time he was only a soldier, not a ruler.”
Blad-Kagenn told them of how Rakossa’s line had been formally deposed and how the nobles, to make peace quickly, had settled on the young soldier to lead them. None were sorry to learn of Tonx Ghin Rakossa’s death. His madness and not-so-private depravities had been both an embarrassment and threat to the population for many years. Rakossa’s spies had been everywhere, but when T’hosjer removed the head of the monster, the body dissipated quickly.
The Slanderscree was in among the seven main islands now. Ta-hoding slowed the ship lest they run over one of the smaller vessels plying the iceways. At the main island more cheers awaited them, though Ethan thought the shouts and roars oddly subdued.
Blad-Kagenn proudly escorted them around the harbor and up the steep slope that led to Poyolavomaar’s castle. T’hosjer T’hos was still the tall and, by Tran standards, slim soldier Ethan barely remembered from their previous visit. He greeted Ethan and Skua as friends and embraced Elfa and Hunnar, his recently acquired allies in the Union of Ice. Court retainers looked on approvingly. It was a good thing, this alliance. There was none of the nervous whispering or sidelong suspicious glances that normally attended such a meeting. The sycophants and fawning bodyguards who had surrounded Rakossa were gone.
Chairs were brought forward. They were wide enough to accommodate folding winglike dan—or a loose-fitting survival suit. Drinks arrived in the company of a court recorder who would write down whatever was said between Landgrave and visitor.
“I did not expect to see any of you so soon again,” the young Landgrave told them.
“Nor we you,” replied Elfa.
T’hos adjusted his dan and leaned forward. “I think I preferred soldiering to administration, but I could not refuse the honor to my family. Tell me now: What changes in the north? What have you seen, where have you been, and how does the Union progress?”
“The Union is solid as the rocks and grows larger and stronger every day,” Elfa told him. “As for what changes there have been”—she nodded demurely toward Hunnar—“I have taken a mate.”
T’hos smiled broadly at the Sofoldian knight. “This means that I will not be able to strengthen the Union by a marriage between our two states.”
Hunnar nodded and kept a straight face. “There are many young females of marriageable age and noble birth in Sofold.” His tone turned serious. “Much have we seen and learned since last we made landfall in Poyolavomaar. Enough to last a curious soldier several lifetimes.” He nodded toward Ethan and Skua. “Our new friends have ships that fly through the sky and devices that enable them to talk across more satch than separate Sofold and Poyolavomaar. As soon as the Union becomes strong enough and we are able to join in this greater union they call their Commonwealth, we too may be permitted to make use of such wonders.”
T’hos’s whiskers rose. “This is a time I must live to see! I have sent emissaries to Warreck and Vem-Hobar asking them to join in our Union. They have reacted with suspicion and evasion, which is to say, normally. I have hopes of winning them over together with several smaller outlying city-states. We could compel them to participate by force of arms but”—he glanced sideways at Ethan—“you say this is not how your government prefers a union to be formed.”
“Not really.” It wasn’t much of a prevarication, he reflected. Actually the Commonwealth didn’t care how primitives created their planetary governments. Conquest was as acceptable as argument. But the Tran were warlike enough. By giving soldiers like T’hos no option Ethan hoped to preserve lives and property. A uni
on that came into being with as little bloodshed as possible would be the stronger for it.
“Continue your discussions.”
“Such is what we are doing,” T’hos assured him. “In the end I am confident reason will prevail. It is merely a matter of time. It is only that I am personally impatient to qualify for these benefits you spoke of when last you paused among us.” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Was I then wrong in believing that you would not return here?”
Elfa dipped her head slightly and cut her eyes sharply toward her human companions. The double gesture was rich with suggestion, not all of which Ethan comprehended despite the months he’d spent living among the Tran.
“It seems that Sir Ethan and Sir Skua found our company so pleasing they decided to remain awhile longer among us.”
“Not on your whiskers,” September growled, not caring if he insulted half the organized government of Tran-ky-ky.
“I came along to keep him out of trouble and that’s the only reason I came along.” He nodded toward Ethan.
“We know well what a rugged and unfeeling person you are,” Hunnar said sardonically.
T’hos was staring past them, toward a high window which overlooked the harbor below. “Do you wish to know what I have thought of every day and night since you left? To ride one of your sky boats and see my world from above, as the long-winged urlus do. I have climbed all the major peaks of Poyolavomaar but it seems to me not the same.” He extended both arms to display his veinous dan. “These flaps of skin make chivaning a delight, but they will not allow us even to glide.”
“I promise,” Ethan told him, in defiance of any relevant regulations, “that as soon as the Union is accepted by my government, as representative of the Tran I’ll get you up in a skimmer or a shuttle somehow. I’ll have to have an aircar to carry out my new work here and I’ll bring it to Poyolavomaar just so you can have a ride.”
“Wonderful, wonderful!” The young Landgrave clapped his paws like a cub. “If only the world does not end before this happens. Some say it is going mad.”
“We heard the rumor,” September commented. “Maybe you could tell us a little more about exactly what—”
“Your pardon for interrupting.” Ta-hoding had been waiting patiently off to the side until he could stand it no longer. “We have a problem that is based on fact and not rumor, good Landgrave. As many of our crew were desirous of returning to their homes, we have sailed here with a minimal crew. My people are exhausted and in need of relief. The humans who are our passengers have been as helpful as they can be, but experienced ice sailors they are not.” He indicated Williams, Cheela Hwang, and the rest of the research group who were studying the wall hangings and stone carvings that decorated the Landgrave’s hall.
“They are willing, but sometimes they cause more trouble than their well-meaning efforts are worth.”
September nodded ready agreement. “I saw Jacalan trying to raise a sail in a seventy kph gale. We’re lucky we didn’t lose her.”
“Tell me what you require,” said T’hos unhesitatingly.
“We know that Poyolavomaar is home to many fine sailors of the ice. We would take some temporarily into our company to aid us in our journey. It would make much smoother our expedition to the southern continent.”
“The southern continent? Why would you wish to go there? Are you returning so soon to our friends in Moulokin?”
“No. We go another direction entirely; not south by southwest but by southeast.”
T’hos frowned. “You sail upon empty ice. Though that is far from the routes our traders ply it is said there is nothing in that direction for thousands of kijat. No cities, no towns, not even barren unclaimed islands. A few dealers in furs and metal have penetrated that far to tell us only that there is no reason to go farther.”
“Nevertheless, that’s where we’re going,” Ethan told him.
“You should not.” The Landgrave looked troubled. “That is the part of the world they say has gone mad.”
“Should’ve guessed,” September murmured. He jerked a thumb back toward the rubbernecking researchers. “Our thoughtful associates apparently aren’t the only ones who think something out of the ordinary’s going on down there.”
“The travelers who described this madness heard it from others who heard it from another who heard it from one they say was probably half-mad himself,” T’hos muttered uneasily. “One must be cautious in such matters. The credulous are all too ready to believe whatever they are told. As Landgrave I must be more careful. But it is one thing to deal with one who is mad, as Rakossa was, and another to think of what someone means when they talk of the whole world going mad.” He rose half out of his chair and gestured to his right.
The Tran who shuffled forward was older even than Balavere Longax. His chiv had seen so much use they had been worn down nearly flush with the thick pads of his feet. No more for this elder long hours of carefree chivaning across the ice. Like the poor humans his wizened eyes touched upon he was reduced to walking.
He listed slightly to the left, like a tree that has been permanently bent by the wind. The long staff he leaned on was pointed like a skier’s pole. His mane and facial fur had gone snow white. His eyelids opened halfway only, afflicting him with a perpetually sleepy air. His infirmities notwithstanding, he managed two-thirds of a respectful bow.
“I greet our friends from Sofold and from the sky. I remember you from your previous visit, though we were not then formally introduced.” He smiled, a patriarch who had outlived his tormentor. “I was not in favor in the court of Tonx Ghin Rakossa. I am afflicted with a disarming habit of saying what I think.”
“Get you run through every time,” September said knowingly.
“T’hos had resumed his seat. “This is Moak Stonetree, my most respected adviser. He it was who first learned of the rumor you would seek in person.”
“What’s all this nonsense about the world going mad?” September had never been much on protocol or subtleties.
Stonetree made certain the point of his staff was driven into a crack between two smooth flooring stones. His gaze narrowed as he fixed on the tall human. “A rumor proven is a lie confounded. Truth balances itself precariously betwixt the two. I have passed along only what I have learned from others.”
“Trappers and outreachers will say anything to draw attention to themselves.” Elfa snorted derisively. “The more their tall tales are believed the readier they are to embellish them. They enjoy frightening with imaginative stories of the world beyond the wind those who remain safe and secure in their cities.”
Stonetree nodded respectfully. “All that you say is true. Yet so wild and bizarre is this particular tale that one can only wonder at the inventiveness of whoever initially declaimed it. It has the singular virtue of remaining unchanged through several retellings.”
“Means little,” observed Ta-hoding. “Such travelers take care with what they swap far out on the ice, be it money, skins, or stories. Keeping such an odd and elaborate fantasy coherent would only add to its effectiveness, and to the amusement of telling and retelling it.”
“I hope that you are all right,” Stonetree said solemnly. “I hope that this is but a fanciful invention with which to afright children. However, it is sometime since my childhood and I find that I am frightened.”
“Is that all the stories say,” Ethan asked him, “that the world is going mad? Or are there details or descriptions? How does a world begin to go mad?”
The old adviser turned his patient gaze on the smaller human. “The tale says that in one part of the southern continent the ice has become a corpse.”
Ethan had to ask the oldster to repeat himself. September wasn’t sure he’d understood clearly either. The giant looked for explanation to their fellow Tran, but Ethan spoke up before Ta-hoding or Hunnar could do so.
“I don’t know that term. What’s an ‘ice corpse’?”
By way of reply Stonetree picked up a half-e
mpty goblet and ceremoniously turned it upside down. Water ran out on the stones, escaping into the cracks in the floor.
“Do you now understand?”
September shook his head in frustration. “I never was one for oblique explanations.”
“It’s water,” Ethan told him. “When ice dies it becomes water. A corpse.”
“Okay, I buy the relationship. That still doesn’t tell us why someone would think the world’s going mad down there.”
“It is wrong,” Stonetree told him firmly. “We make ice corpses so we can drink. That is natural. To find it where we have made it not is unnatural. It is perverse. It is—madness.”
“Wait a minute,” said Ethan suddenly. “You’re talking about open water? A hole in the ice sheet?”
“Just so,” said Stonetree, relieved that the skypeople had finally grasped the notion.
“That’s impossible. Even at the equator it’s impossible.”
The old adviser sounded tired. “Just so.”
Ethan swallowed hard. At its thinnest point, the ice sheet that covered Tran-ky-ky from pole to pole was thirty meters thick. Because of the planet’s perturbed orbit the equatorial regions would not warm sufficiently for standing water to form on its surface for at least another several thousand years.
“It’s got to be volcanic activity, like Milliken and Jacalan and the rest suggested.” September was staring hard at the stone floor as though seeking inspiration in the cracks. “Nothing else could cause this damn ice to melt like that. Nothing!”
“How large do the travelers claim this ice corpse to be?” Ethan asked T’hos’s sage.
“There the tale becomes slippery. Some say it is no more than a small pond as might be made by hunters who have built themselves a fire upon the ice. Others declare it to be kijatin in extent. There is no proof because no one wants to go there. Demons make corpses of Tran as well as ice.”
The Icerigger Trilogy Page 74
