Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1)

by Payne, Lee

  Three days later the Commodore called his aircar. The intervening time was spent examining and recording the books saved from the fall of the forest empire. Each was made from a long strip of bark fabric a foot high and up to fifteen feet long. It was covered on both sides with a white coating more like plaster than paint. Then it had been folded, accordion fashion, so that a series of pages was formed. These were painted on both sides with glyphs and pictures. Most dealt with the rituals meant to appease long-forgotten gods. Two were histories of the creation of the world, the forest and the people.

  As he carefully recorded each page, Ohan found himself marveling at how much his people had created and then lost, how far they had gone along one road before they were forced to turn aside and take another. He wondered where they would have ended up if they had been left alone, where he would be now. He could not picture himself dressed in feathers, chanting to these barbaric gods. The speculation made him dizzy. He decided to accept the world as it was and hope for the best.

  He was seldom alone. The children spent most of their time riding and caring for the horses the Commodore had given them but one or two were always on hand, watching gravely as he fed data from the sacred books into the twins' computer.

  At school Ohan had been introduced to the wonders of machinery—electricity, computers and the rest. That is, he had been told such things existed and he shouldn't be surprised if someday he encountered some of them. He had tried to appear as sophisticated as possible when, every time the twins reached into their packs, they brought out a gadget even more amazing than the previous one. It never occurred to him to ask how they worked. It never occurred to the children not to ask how they worked. Unfortunately, they asked Ohan.

  He began by repeating what Elor had told him—how to turn the computer on, how to orient the scanner and counter, how to position the material to be entered and finally, how to enter it.

  The children watched silently as he demonstrated the relatively simple procedures. He showed them the readout in Universal and even pointed out where the computer had encountered a new word or phrase and had printed alternate translations in addition to the one it felt made the most sense.

  His audience, in this case Alira and an older brother, nodded gravely. Then came the inevitable question. "Yes but how does it do all that? What's inside?"

  Ohan was ready. "Electronics," he said importantly.

  Alira showed no mercy. "What's electronics?"

  "Well," Ohan began, as the realization crept over him that he was already in over his head, "there are these little bits of metal and crystal that are stuck together in such a way that the little bits of electricity go . . . uh . . . "

  Alira's gray eyes measured him coolly, cutting, he knew, to the very depth of his ignorance. "I think there must be a very smart man somewhere," she announced. "This machine asks him the questions and he tells it the answers." She surveyed the computer critically. "But I don't think he is inside. Even if he were very tiny, there would be no room for his desk and his papers and things."

  The logic of the child's solution impressed Ohan. He proceeded to explain radio, or at least the idea of it that he had picked up at school. One box transmitted sound waves through the air to another box. He could feel Alira's estimation of his technical knowledge rise.

  "Yes," she acknowledged. "That must be how they do it." When she went out to ride, her place was taken by Kholran and a younger brother. When the question come up this time, Ohan was ready.

  ***

  The aircar was another marvel Ohan never expected to see, let alone ride in. The age of space travel had touched his planet but lightly. His world had little of interest to the rest of the universe and so was allowed to go its way unhindered. There was a single spaceport on the far continent but it seldom had more than two or three ships touch down in a dozen seasons.

  While aircars were a bit more common, there being twenty or thirty on the planet, Ohan accepted their existence without ever expecting to see one.

  The Commodore's was apparently a standard model that did not please him all that much. "Damn rental," he grumbled. "The twins had to practically rebuild the thing to guarantee we wouldn't have to swim home."

  It was white with a few dents and a green stripe. It had large darkened windows all around and looked big enough for half a dozen people and their luggage. The Commodore used his calldown box to guide it silently to the beach and then in under the trees.

  After Erol checked the machine, the Commodore invited the children inside. They spent the rest of the day arguing over whose turn it was to sit in front. With its shiny impact-glas body and smooth plastic seats, Ohan found the car as alien an environment as he had ever experienced. The children deferred to him when he expressed an interest in sitting in front. There, like them, he caressed the wheel and stared in silent wonder at the controls.

  He had accepted as obvious the fact that the Commodore and the twins were different. They had lived very different lives on worlds far away. Yet they spoke the same language, laughed at the same jokes and were driven by the same human needs as he was. They had accepted him as a comrade and he had accepted them. But sitting in this wondrous vehicle, so totally alien to anything he had ever experienced before, brought the realization of his companions' differences with sudden force. He could no more see himself in a world where this aircar was commonplace than he could see himself among the pyramids of Feathered Shield's world.

  He got up and stepped out of the door into the forest—his forest. He walked back into it until the trees were all around and he could see nothing else. Then he walked a little farther and stopped to listen. There was the sighing of the sea wind in the treetops—not quite like home but close enough. He climbed into the branches and became a part of the forest.

  Toward dusk, Leahn joined him. She climbed up silently and sat beside him. Neither spoke for a while. "How did you find me?" he finally asked.

  She shrugged. "I'm a pretty good tracker, sport. I had a good teacher. And the kids told me where you'd gone. They seem to be keeping an eye on everybody. Making sure we don't steal the silverware, I suppose."

  "I'd forgotten how far away the others had come from," Ohan said. "The aircar reminded me. It's hard to think about people from other worlds. I guess I climbed up here to make sure I was still a part of this one."

  "The aircar reminded me of something too." Her voice sounded strained. "It reminded me of how soon we can be in the highlands. I've wanted to go there. It's the one thing that's always been in my mind but I thought I'd go there slowly and as I got closer I'd have time to think about what I was going to do, to plan it and get used to it."

  "Maybe you're changing your mind."

  "No," she said firmly. "I'd face him right now if he were here. It's just that I've waited so long and now it's so close. Does that make any sense?"

  "I don't know. I've never hated anyone as much as you must hate your uncle."

  "I've lived with this hate for so long, I know I'll be different when it's over."

  "You could be dead."

  "That would definitely be different."

  Ohan leaned against the warm trunk. Leahn relaxed against him. "I would hate it if you were very different," he said.

  "So would I, sport. So would I."

  They climbed down and walked back to the others. The

  Commodore had opened the vehicle's emergency food supply and was passing out samples. "You poor little swabs, raised all your lives on fresh fruit and seafood. Never to have tasted an energy packed, vitamin and mineral enriched, concentrated nutrition bar guaranteed to contain a complete and balanced portion of every nutritional substance known to science except flavor, freshness and digestibility."

  The children loved them.

  He sent them off to finish bedding down the horses and preparing supper, then turned to Leahn and Ohan who had entered through the other door and settled into the middle seats. "Why so glum, comrades?" he asked. "Here on the brink of a new adven
ture, I should think that you, my dear, would be particularly excited at the prospect of gaining your long-sought revenge."

  When Leahn didn't answer, Ohan found himself saying, "Things are moving rather quickly. She's afraid she might change after she . . . "

  "Change," the Commodore snorted. "Yes, indeed. Killing often changes a person. When they see how easy it can be, many people change dramatically—usually for the worse. But as for moving quickly, I do not intend to simply drop you off at the front door and let you start hacking your way in. We have other goals besides yours. We have your father's collection to examine and a skin to retrieve."

  The sun had gone and the car was dark inside. He pushed a button and the ceiling began to glow. He turned his seat around and looked closely at Leahn. "I said I would take you to your uncle and I will, but we are still a team and I still call the shots. We have several things to do first. It has been my experience that there is always more than enough time for killing, but let me decide when that time has arrived." He paused. "Understood?"

  Leahn nodded. "Splendid," he said. "Then I see no reason why we can't leave tomorrow. There's only one problem that I can foresee."

  "He wants to go with you." It was a tiny voice from the back of the car. Ohan turned but saw no one until he peered over the back of his seat. There was Malie curled up in the corner. "He wants to go with you," she repeated.

  The Commodore went around to the back and slid in beside her. "I was afraid he might." He put his arm around the child. She hesitated a moment then snuggled close to him.

  "Who?" Ohan asked.

  "Feathered Shield," the Commodore replied. "He's been stuck inside that crumbling skeleton for 500 years. Then, all at once, he found himself in this child. He doesn't want to give that up."

  "Mostly he wants to die," Malie said. "He's very tired but the hate and sadness are so strong in him that he can't. Not until his honor is restored, along with his skin. He hides his feelings from me. He says they would be too strong for me but I can tell they're there."

  "Is he with you now?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you make him go away?"

  "He says he will leave if I ask him to."

  "Do you believe him?"

  "One nightbird warrior does not lie to another."

  "Will he speak to us?"

  "No. He says he made a mistake when he spoke through me the other day. He thinks it frightened me. He will not do it again."

  "Did it frighten you?"

  "Yes but that was the first time. I don't think I would be frightened if he did it again. It was just unexpected."

  "Do you want to go with us?"

  "No. I'd rather stay here and ride Ruddy."

  "Ah yes, Rudyard Kipling."

  "He prefers to be called Ruddy. But Feathered Shield says we won't be gone long and that I should see some of the world while I have the chance. He says I am too bright to spend my life in this out-of-the-way place." She laughed. "He says there are worlds to conquer."

  "Remind him that you are only a child."

  "He says he sometimes forgets that. He says that even as a child, his father was preparing him to be a great king."

  "Let me speak frankly to you. The Commodore lifted Malie up and placed her before him on his knee. "To both of you. I do not like this arrangement. Dead kings should remain that way and not go around troubling little girls. Growing up is difficult enough without this kind of distraction. My fear is that Feathered Shield will grow to like using Malie's body and will not leave it even if we find his skin."

  "Oh no," Malie said. "He wouldn't do that. He wants very much to die. I can feel that."

  The Commodore regarded her thoughtfully. "Very well. You may go with us. But only so we can get him out of you as soon as possible."

  Malie smiled and climbed down from his knee. "Thank you, Commodore." She almost bumped into Elor who was standing in the dark just outside the illuminated aircar. "I'll go make sure Ruddy is all right. Supper will be ready soon." She skipped off into the darkness.

  The Commodore turned to Elor. "Would you care to venture an opinion?"

  "The development of multiple personalities in a single troubled mind in not unknown. These alternate selves even give themselves names and evolve diverse personalities."

  "You mean she may just be imagining Feathered Shield?" Leahn asked.

  Elor shrugged. "A sensitive child in a lonely land, loses her parents and is taken in my a grandmother and two elderly scholars who introduce her to the lost ritual of a forgotten civilization, not to mention the skeleton of a long-dead king. It is certainly possible."

  "But I don't think so," the Commodore said.

  "Nor do I," Elor agreed.

  ***

  The aircar skimmed smoothly a few feet above the sea. The Commodore decided to approach the highlands from the nearest seaport, a large city where they could find transportation up the trade road into the mountains. As the aircar would make them too conspicuous and add to the price of anything they wanted to buy, they planned to disembark on a deserted beach, send the car back to its starting point and walk into town.

  Ohan had been astonished at the speed with which the coastline had receded behind them. Now with nothing but endless sea and no sense of motion inside the quiet little craft, he settled back to enjoy the ride. If a person had to travel and he wasn't at all sure that a person did—this certainly beat horseback riding.

  The aircar was a bit crowded with the six or seven of them, depending on how many times you counted Malie. She was on one side in the back seat. Ohan was on the other, one of the twins' knapsacks in his lap. Between them was a basket, the contents of which Ohan didn't care to think about. Malie and Feathered Shield had insisted on bringing it. She said it gave him a place to go so he wouldn't be with her all the time. In the basket, carefully packed among Malie's few spare clothes, was Feathered Shield's skull.

  The Commodore piloted them off the beach, then turned the controls over to Erol. He swiveled his chair around to face Leahn and Elor in the center seat. "We will want to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The boys and I have had considerable practice at that and a large seaport sees some pretty strange sights. Ohan and Malie should fit right in." He raised his voice for Malie's benefit. "Especially if she keeps that accursed basket closed. But Leahn is a problem. We can't risk your being recognized, my dear. So we have a change of costume for you."

  Elor stood and pulled a large roll of dark fabric from an overhead compartment. "Actually it's the Commodore's hammock," Elor said. "He has reluctantly agreed to sacrifice it for the good of the cause. There should be more than enough material for an all-concealing cloak and hood."

  The Commodore brought out a small sewing machine. "Enough material?" he snorted. "Not only must I suffer the loss of a prized possession, but I must endure insult as well. Stand up, my dear, so I can take your measure. Lucky for you I learned the sailmakers' trade on the shoreless red seas of Ceti Alpha III. Did I ever tell you of the mermaids there who . . . I did? Pity. I have retained my love for fish to this very day."

  The finished garment resembled a monk's robe with a deep hood that hid Leahn's face. To complete the disguise, Elor brought out a pair of goggles. "These may also prove useful later on. They can be set for either heat-seeking or light-amplification."

  Leahn struggled into her new outfit in the limited interior of the aircar and laced on her sword belt over the robe. When she turned her dark hooded face to Ohan, he saw only the glint of blank lenses staring out at him. Even knowing who was inside, he was intimidated.

  They landed after nightfall on a deserted beach. Erol set the aircar controls to retrace its route, to be hidden beneath the trees by the children until it was needed again. They disembarked, sealed the car and sent it on its way in less than two minutes, then settled down to await the dawn.

  It was noticeably cooler in these higher latitudes. Malie burrowed in among the folds of the Commodore's heavy coat. "This coast must face in a differe
nt direction than ours at home," she whispered. "It seems funny not to see the Eye of God out beyond the sea. Even on dark nights there was always a little of it peeking over the horizon."

  "You will see many unusual sights before you return to your familiar shore. Are you frightened?"

  "A little. Even Feathered Shield is a little nervous. He hasn't been out for 500 years."

  Morning found them a short distance from the seaport road. They were soon overtaken by a group of wagon drivers who started to comment on the twins' unusual appearance. Then they caught sight of Leahn's dark hooded figure girt with its ancient sword. She made the twins seem almost commonplace. A few coppers bought a ride into town. The steady plodding of the wagon's mares seemed slow after weeks in the saddle aboard the stallions.

  ***

  The port had grown haphazardly around the only all-weather anchorage on that coast. It also served a wide inland area both in the highlands and along the coastal foothills. This guaranteed the town a profitable commerce. It tried to hide its affluence behind a commonplace, even run-down facade. Wealth unadvertised was less likely to attract the attention of those who might insist on a share of it. Inside the dingy shops, everything was for sale.

  The Commodore found what he sought in one of them. He emerged in a costume even more startling, Ohan thought, than his red silk pajamas. Ohan had only a limited acquaintance with the phenomenon called style—all of it from other students at school. As near as he could determine, style was judged by a rapidly changing set of standards that rejected the practical in favor of the picturesque.

  The Commodore's new outfit, Ohan immediately suspected, must be the height of style. It was exceedingly picturesque and not the least bit practical. From the pointed toes of his shiny high-heeled boots to the plume in his floppy hat, he was all swirling fabric and clashing color, a symphony of the unlikely without a single garment that would survive an hour's ride through the forest.

  He seemed to have changed inside as well as out. "You like it, sweetie?" Ohan had to look around before he realized the Commodore was speaking to him. "It's the absolute latest from the capital. The sales fellow said few of the local bumpkins have the imagination or the panache to carry it off quite the way I do. He was very excited by my color sense as indeed, others have been before him. But I say if you can't bring a dash of color and excitement to the provinces, well, what's the point of life anyway?"