‘And that will change their present relationship with their environment. They’ll lose touch. And when that happens … there’ll be no more earth-magic.’
‘Exactly,’ said Karlstrom. ‘You got it in one.’
‘Not a very pleasing prospect for the people running this psionics outfit you mentioned.’
Karlstrom’s face darkened. ‘I don’t think we need worry about those guys. They’ll soon find something else to hitch their wagon to.’
‘But at the moment, their research programme is fully approved by the President-General.’
Karlstrom was too fly to fall for that one. ‘It’s approved by everyone, Brickman – including you…’
‘Absolutely, sir.’
‘And there’s something else we need to get straight. I know it’s your friend Clearwater who’s been zapping the surveillance cameras, but at the moment no one else does. I’m happy to leave it that way providing you tell her to knock it off. Any further disruption could seriously jeopardise our interests and by that I mean yours, hers and mine. You got that?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will only be allowed this one visit. You will not reveal any details of this up-coming mission, or even that you will soon be leaving the Federation.’
‘No, sir!’
‘Okay. Now for my part, I will ensure that no harm comes to her while you’re away. In fact, I guarantee it.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And in return, assuming you get back in one piece, you and I will have to put our heads together and decide what is to be done with her. What’s best for all of us. Give the matter some thought while you’re away.’
‘I will, sir.…’
‘Okay. We’ve said all there is to say.’ Pulling the peak of his engineer’s cap down over his eyes, Karlstrom resumed his Man of Destiny stance at the driver’s window and laid a firm hand on the throttle. ‘Back to work, Brickman. Start hauling wood!’
Yesss-sirrrr.…
Chapter Five
The sudden convergence of so many high-born supporters of the Progressive Party did not escape the notice of the agents that Lord Ieyasu had managed to station inside the domain of the Yama-Shita and elsewhere.
Despite a great deal of effort and ingenuity, he had not succeeded in placing an agent in a key long-term position within the palace walls, but that had ceased to be a problem. Two years ago, one of his special agents, trained in the ancient arts of the ninja to perform what were often suicide missions, had succeeded in planting an electronic bug in the main council chamber before his presence was detected. Unable to escape, he had killed himself.
To the Yama-Shita family it looked like a failed assassination attempt which was also strangely ill-timed since Lord Hirohito, the presumed target, was absent on a tour of his domain. But the ninja had done his work well. The chamber was used for important policy meetings, and the miniaturised listening device had relayed a great deal of useful intelligence to a secret listening post aboard an innocent-looking fishing boat that always cast its nets within a mile of the palace ramparts.
Ieyasu had been assured that the small, bean-sized battery – another long-dog miracle – had one more year of life, but now, as the age-old rivals of the Toh-Yota gathered to plot new treasons, the device had fallen silent.
How tiresome! thought Ieyasu. Never mind. His network was resilient. Messages would be sent, ways would be found. And if all else failed, he could always rely on Domain-Lord Kiyo Min-Orota, a true and trusted ally who had already passed on the wording of the invitation he had received to join a group of like-minded friends at Sara-kusa.
Ieyasu was right about Sakimoto’s motives for inviting his fellow-Progressives, but he was wrong about the reason for the break in transmission. The electronic bug had not suffered battery failure; its presence had been detected and its location revealed by Cadillac.
Acting on a wild hunch, he used parts of the radio equipment stripped from the damaged Skyhawk to sweep several key areas of the palace, including the main conference chamber. Just when he was about to give up, the tell-tale feedback noise had led him to the device which had been embedded in the underside of the long, low, eight-legged table.
After examining the bug, he deactivated it then restored it to its hiding place. There was no point in showing it to the Regent, Aishi Sakimoto, ahead of the meeting. The device itself was physically insignificant and would mean nothing to anyone who had not grasped the concept of electronic surveillance. It needed to be woven into a carefully-prepared scenario and revealed with a dramatic flourish when he had secured the undivided attention of his powerful audience. He had promised them proof of the Toh-Yotas treachery, and he intended to supply it.
The Skyhawk transceiver unit contained a tape-deck with an eight-hour digital cassette which enabled pilots to record ground-to-air or air-to-air conversations. Using his gift of mimicry and his fluent grasp of Japanese, Cadillac recorded two voices from a sending and receiving station, in which the sender reported that the secret conference summoned by the Yama-Shita was now underway, but that the listening device had suddenly stopped relaying the voices of the conspirators.
Both speakers referred to the Lord Chamberlain and the Toh-Yota by name, their voices rising and fading against a background of static – created by rustling a crumpled piece of rice-paper close to the tiny microphone. It took several tries before Cadillac pronounced himself satisfied with the balance of the voices and Roz’s sound-effects, but the final version was impressive – with just enough roughness and depthto convince any listeners that the voices were coming from some point far beyond the castle walls.
His audience would not have heard voices ‘captured’ from the air before, so the impact would be even greater. They would listen more intently, and when the full implications of what was being said dawned on them collectively, the Lord Chamberlain would be mired in shite right up to his hairless armpits.
The last guests to arrive were Lord Fu-Jitsu and Na-Shona, the domain-lords who held the far northern reaches of Ne-Issan. With the destruction of the pre-Holocaust locks on the San-Oransa, the river was no longer navigable along its whole length. The only way to reach Sara-kusa was by an arduous ride on horseback. Sakimoto made them welcome, and granted a twenty-four hour respite to ease the soreness generated by so many days in the saddle.
The next evening, before joining the earlier arrivals for a lavish banquet, they were taken aside by Aishi Sakimoto and given a preparatory briefing on the strange nature of the outlandish couple that he intended to bring before them on the following day.
The encounter, said Sakimoto, would involve a grave breach of protocol, even an affront to their dignity, but it was absolutely essential that they – like the other nobles who had arrived before them – subdued their natural reactions and prejudices, and listened with an open mind and, above all, watched with open eyes.
‘Outlandish couple…?’ Lord Fu-Jitsu exchanged a cautious glance with his neighbour and travelling-companion, Domain-Lord Na-Shona. ‘What manner of creature are they?’
‘Grass-monkeys,’ replied Sakimoto, ‘who are able to speak our sacred mother-tongue.’
Having been over the same ground with his other guests, the shocked reaction of Lord Fu-Jitsu and Na-Shona came as no surprise.
‘Y-You expect us to sit in the same room and…’ Na-Shona could hardly bring himself to express the thought, ‘… treat with them as equals?!’
‘You will certainly be expected to sit and listen to what they have to tell us,’ said Sakimoto with undiplomatic firmness. ‘It goes without saying they can never be accepted as our social equals. I am merely asking you to suppress – as I have – your natural feelings of superiority.’
‘And disgust.…’
‘That too,’ said Sakimoto. ‘But once you have surmounted these mental barriers, I am confident you will find the experience most instructive. These are witches, able to grip and chill the minds of men by conjuring up spirit forms which a
re as real as you and I, and alter the world around us.’ He saw their eyes widen in alarm. ‘And they have come here to aid us to achieve what we all desire the most!’
When Cadillac and Roz were brought into the main council chamber, they found Aishi Sakimoto and the six senior members of the Yama-Shita family council sitting at the long table, interspersed with their guests – Domain-Lords Ko-Nikka and Se-Iko, their nearest neighbours, Lord Hi-Tashi and San-Yo from the far south, Lord Fu-Jitsu and Na-Shona and Lord Min-Orota of Masa-chusa and Ro-diren. Behind each domain-lord sat a trusted advisor, but there were no armed guards – although a number were stationed outside all the entrances and could be summoned in an instant.
Approaching the small, low table that had been placed opposite the centre of its larger neighbour, Cadillac and Roz knelt on the mats provided and put their noses briefly on the floor then, in impeccable Japanese, Cadillac said: ‘Noble lords of the Yama-Shita. We greet you and your illustrious guests on behalf of the Plainfolk.’ He bowed his head to Sakimoto. ‘Sire, we have already spoken of our desire for friendship and cooperation between your great houses and the warrior clans we represent. It is our belief that we can help you gain the place that is rightfully yours. In order for your guests to be able to judge for themselves our usefulness in that regard, may we have your permission to offer a brief display of the powers at our command?’
‘Proceed,’ said Aishi Sakimoto, bracing himself.
Before the word was fully uttered, Roz had imprisoned their minds. The assembled domain-lords rocked back on their heels as Cadillac and Roz and the small table disappeared and were replaced by a fully-armed samurai-warrior astride a magnificent horse with flaring nostrils. A black stallion, caparisoned in crimson and silver.
The samurai – whose face was concealed behind a fearsome battle-mask – brandished a gleaming sword as he reined in the restive animal. The room was filled with the stamp of its iron-shod hooves. Its muscular neck with its flowing mane arched as the rider pulled the steaming muzzle in against its neck. Then, lowering its haunches, the stallion bared its teeth, flexed its rear legs and leapt forward as the masked rider loosed a tremendous yell.
Sakimoto – part of whose brain knew it wasn’t real – could not smother the instinctive desire to throw himself sideways as the horse flew over his head. Even those not directly in line tried to get out of the way then, to their utter consternation, horse and rider vanished in mid-leap.
Cries of astonishment filled the council chamber, cries which soon turned into strangled gasps of disbelief as the Iron Masters picked themselves up and found Cadillac and Roz sitting calmly behind their small table as if nothing had happened.
Lord Fu-Jitsu, angered at being tricked – and thoroughly frightened into the bargain – ignored Sakimoto’s warning to keep his cool. He slammed his right hand down upon the table. ‘You painted apes! How dare you mock us in this impudent manner!’
An audible gasp from his neighbours and a sudden crawling, burning sensation drew his attention to his hand. Starting at the tips of his splayed fingers, the skin began to steam and bubble. Within seconds, the bubbles had spread to cover the back of his hand, wrist and the exposed part of his arm then, beneath his horrified gaze, the bubbles became festering pustules which burst, revealing seething nests of maggots feeding on the rotting flesh beneath.
His fellow domain-lords recoiled in horror as he pulled back the wide sleeve of his kimono. The whole of his forearm was being consumed. The stench was unbearable, the pain indescribable. Fu-Jitsu screamed and thrust the quivering limb towards Lord San-Yo who had been seated on his right. ‘Strike! I beg you! Cut it off! Before it devours me!’
San-Yo found himself unable to draw his sword. But it was not necessary. Fu-Jitsu’s arm and hand had been magically restored to their previously healthy state.
Hawwwwwww-wwwww!
At Sakimoto’s urging, the domain-lords settled down in their allotted places. A servant was summoned to pour out a cup of sake for the shaken Fu-Jitsu, and many of the others took the opportunity to settle their nerves with a quick snifter.
When the hubbub had died down, Cadillac said: ‘My lords, before we can offer you our aid, we must come to a certain understanding. We are not "painted apes". We are of the Plainfolk – a warrior race as proud and courageous as the Sons of Ne-Issan. We do not accept the notion of inferior and superior beings. Every colour and shape of humankind born under the sky has an equal claim to the air that he breathes and the earth on which he stands. And it is our belief that the gods who rule the fate of nations, punish and cast down those who ignore this great truth by granting themselves privileges and considerations denied to those they deem unworthy.
‘We acknowledge your society is both different and far more advanced than our own, but while it has much to commend it, the Plainfolk are superior in other ways. We are armed with magical powers drawn from the ancient wisdom of heaven and earth – powers that can defeat the swords, bows and guns of your mightiest armies!
‘Our magic makes us invincible because we draw our strength from those who would raise their hand against us. Your anger, your hatred, your evil intent fuels the magic and makes it more potent! Your wrath becomes our shield!’
It was all lies, of course. Cadillac was making it up as he went along, but after witnessing what had happened to Lord Fu-Jitsu none of the shaken Iron Masters was prepared to doubt his word.
When he felt composed enough to speak, Lord Fu-Jitsu said: ‘I regret the rashness with which I addressed you.’
Cadillac bowed in return. ‘I fully understand, sire. It is no easy matter to change the habits and attitudes of a lifetime.’
With Roz having helped him reduce his audience to a state of cowed attentiveness, Cadillac dispensed with further courtesies and got down to the business of nailing the Toh-Yota to the wall.
Placing a cloth package on the table, he announced in a suitably hushed voice that he was about to unveil an artefact fashioned by the long-dogs – a black box bearing hieroglyphs, hand controls and glittering red and green jewel-like eyes. A device filled with the Dark Light.…
His mention of the forbidden words triggered an audible intake of breath. With ritualised gestures, he and Roz carefully unwrapped the Skyhawk’s radio set then refolded the cloth neatly and set it aside. The Iron Masters loved ceremony. They even made a major production out of the simple process of preparing a hot drink by pouring boiling water on dried leaves. Not only did it take forever, you had to put on special clothes in order to participate.
Lord San-Yo eyed the radio uneasily and voiced the question on everyone’s lips. ‘Are we in any danger from that … device?’
‘No, sire. It threatens only those who have abused the trust of this nation.’ Besides the fake messages, Cadillac had also recorded several useful sound effects. The box, he explained, had several functions, one of which was its ability to detect the presence of other devices filled with the Dark Light. It was not, as many people thought, a demonic energy, but it was created by the interaction of elemental forces. It had many forms and attributes, but it could be likened to a flowing river whose dynamic force turned the water-wheels of grinding mills, and to bands of light – like sunbeams striking through a pine forest in the early morn – but invisible to the naked eye. It was these unseen bands that were able to join one device to another, and they also could capture and carry away the sound of the human voice!
Hhhawwww-wwww!
Selecting the appropriate track, Cadillac coaxed a faint high-pitched bleep from the radio. His audience, of course, had no idea that he was manipulating the controls to produce the desired noises – and that Roz had been doing so beneath the table even before the radio had been unwrapped.
They exchanged meaningful glances. ‘Listen!’ cried Roz. ‘It speaks to another device!’
Most of the domain-lords present had a fair to good grasp of Basic, but Cadillac quickly repeated what she had said in Japanese. The Iron Masters reacted with murmurs o
f surprise.
Taking the radio reverently between both hands, he rose and moved carefully up and down in front of the long table, sweeping the room for the hidden device as he surreptitiously raised and lowered the volume control to simulate the technique of direction finding. Finally, as he neared the point where the device was concealed, he raised the volume and pointed an accusing finger.
‘My lord! The device must be hidden in the table itself!’
‘But that’s impossible!’ cried Sakimoto.
‘Not so, my lord. You underestimate the cunning and duplicity of those who seek to destroy you!’ Cadillac scanned the table closely as the Iron Masters scrambled to their feet and backed away cautiously. ‘It must be underneath! Allow me!’ Handing Roz the radio, Cadillac grasped one edge of the heavy table.
‘Wait! said Sakimoto. ‘I will summon servants!’
Lord Ko-Nikka and several other domain-lords stepped forward. ‘There is no need. The less people that know of this the better!’
They turned the table on one of its long edges. Cadillac drew their attention to the neatly-drilled cavity, carefully levered out the small device and held it up for all to see as the table was lowered back into place.
The domain-lords eyed the bug sceptically as Cadillac pushed it round the table for each of them to examine. ‘It looks like a black stone from a go board,’ said Mitiyake Se-Iko. ‘Can it really capture voices?’
Cadillac shot a quick glance at Roz, then pretended to make a crucial adjustment to the bug. Roz quickly rewound a section of the tape and hit the play button as Cadillac raised the bug between thumb and forefinger. To their utter astonishment, the Iron Masters heard the voice of Lord Se-Iko issue from the black box: ‘It looks like a black stone from a go board. Can it really capture voices?’
Hhhawwwww-wwwww! This was magic indeed!
‘But what does this mean?!’ demanded Lord Min-Orota.
Cadillac twisted the two faces of the bug between his fingers and held it near the radio. There was no high-pitched bleep. Roz had switched tracks but no one had noticed. ‘I have emptied the Dark Light from it. It no longer hears. But while it was alive, it noted the words spoken in this room as faithfully as a scribe!’
Earth-Thunder Page 14
