Beyond the circling mansions and chateaux a vast temporary encampment had sprung up, girdling the whole affair. Here the thousands of court followers had billeted themselves, resembling an army preparing for battle. An instant town of tents and lean-tos, herds of horses and idle wagons. For many of its occupants, being still was an uncommon experience. For some, born on the move, it was completely novel.
At the motionless palace itself, a walkway had been erected, running from its lower levels down to the ground. Its elevation was gentle, and it was wide enough to allow two wagons to travel abreast. The function of the gangplank was to take on cargo. Normally, provisions of all kinds were loaded in transit, and many elaborate contrivances and procedures had been devised to achieve this. But occasionally the unusual nature of certain cargoes defeated the cunning of the Prince’s engineers.
Melyobar sat on a throne placed at the top of the walkway, looking over everything being brought aboard. He had an aide at his side and a bevy of minions dancing attendance. As the cargo was led, steered, carried and dragged past him, and identified by the aide if required, the Prince indicated acceptance or refusal. All the items, without exception, were in pairs.
Two thoroughbred horses were nodded through, followed by a couple each of donkeys and oxen. A bull and a cow were herded past, along with sheep, goats, pigs and boars.
‘Let’s take all useful beasts as read, shall we?’ the Prince decreed.
‘Very good, your Majesty,’ the aide confirmed, scribbling a note.
All variant breeds of horses, sheep, goats and the like were consequently hurried by. But Melyobar’s definition of a useful animal was by no means consistent.
‘Are all dogs to be considered acceptable, Majesty?’ the aide wondered, as a yapping, barking horde approached.
‘Yes. No. I don’t like those.’ He pointed to pairs of bulldogs and pugs, which were promptly hived-off. ‘Ugly brutes.’
Cats he said yes to, as he was fond of them. But he saw no benefit in accepting mice or rats. Frogs, too, were vetoed.
He had no doubt that those who served him burned with curiosity about the menagerie he was gathering. But of course none dared question him on it. Besides, it was none of their business.
‘What’s that?’ the Prince demanded of a soldier carrying a straw-lined box. The man showed it to him. Two tortoises dozed inside. ‘I’m not sure these things serve much purpose,’ Melyobar remarked.
The soldier looked to the aide. ‘That’s a no,’ the aide mouthed at him. The tortoises were taken to the reject line.
A stag and a deer went past. Then a variety of fowl were shown. Melyobar was keen on the eagles and hawks, and a diversity of songbirds were admitted. A cockerel and a hen were let in, naturally, but the Prince dithered over the owls. Eventually he nodded, but was firm about partridges, which he thought ungainly. Swans and geese went through. There was some doubt about ducks, until he was reminded that they provided eggs, as did quail. Pigeons and doves passed the test.
A batch of exotics from far-flung lands appeared, causing no little excitement. Two tigers, well manacled and with three handlers apiece, were paraded.
‘Excellent for sport,’ Melyobar declared.
He was no less enthusiastic about a lion and lioness. When a pair of crocodiles slithered into view, however, he was less eager. ‘Can’t see how you could do much more than club them to death. Not much sport in that.’
‘Quite so, Majesty.’ The aide waved the crocodiles aside, and wrote himself a memo concerning alligators.
The coming of the elephants was an awesome sight. Their legs were shackled in robust iron, and each had a skilled rider on its neck. None of that mitigated their sheer size, and the Prince cricked his neck staring up at them.
‘Extraordinary,’ he allowed. ‘But have they a use?’
‘Indeed, sire. As beasts of burden they’re unsurpassed. And it is said their appearance on a field of battle has a most salutary effect.’
He was convinced.
The camels made him laugh, and they were admitted on that basis. He was baffled by a couple of giant, slow-moving lizards, green-scaled, with flicking tongues.
‘If I wanted grotesques,’ he decided, ‘I could have glamours conjured.’
The lizards were taken way.
Snakes he likewise forsook, but was persuaded to relent in the case of several species whose venom, his head apothecary explained, had healing properties.
He kept the monkeys, which he found amusing, and likewise two saucy parrots. Insects he universally refused, seeing this as an opportunity to be rid of them. Though he did hesitate when a pair of exquisitely marked butterflies were produced. They fluttered in a charm-warmed glass container to preserve them from the autumn chill.
‘Such creatures are problematic, Majesty,’ his aide said.
‘They are?’
‘Insects require other insects on which to feed. I don’t believe it’s possible to be selective about them, Majesty.’
‘What about the birds? They eat insects, don’t they?’
‘Ah. You’re absolutely right, of course, sir; some do.’ He wrote himself yet another note. ‘I’ll look into that.’
‘Yes to rabbits,’ Melyobar announced as they were carted on in a wooden hutch. ‘But definitely no more than two, mind!’
Moles he thought useless for all but irksome tunnelling. But badgers were let aboard, as were the brown bears. Baiting was one of his favourite pastimes, and he had to think of future leisure.
Then they began toting barrels and tubs of fish to him. Most he agreed to, but he turned away those he didn’t like the look of. So pike, eels and catfish found no home. Crabs and lobsters he wanted because he relished their taste.
He glanced at the seemingly endless line of animals and their handlers making their way up the gangplank. And now a line of rejects was working its way down on the other side. In the confusion it was hard to keep predators and prey apart, and there was a deal of snapping, slashing and biting. The noise and smell was growing intense. A clean-up crew had its work cut out shovelling away droppings.
‘Are there many more?’ the Prince asked.
‘We’ve barely begun. You did order two of everything, Majesty.’
Hunting parties were scouring the land for mating pairs. He had agents purchasing specimens from zoos and private collections, and bartering with merchants as they returned from foreign climes.
His father’s instructions had been quite explicit. Animals were to be acquired two by two, to serve the Prince’s needs in a world in which there was no death. Or, indeed, many other human beings. Melyobar determined to marshal his stamina and see it through, for the sake of the plan. And for his salvation.
An unseemly honking and a fleshy slapping sound broke his reverie. A walrus waddled over for its audience, its mate close behind. Attendants walked ahead of them, holding out fish to keep them moving, while others doused them with buckets of water.
The walrus turned its whiskery face up to the Prince and they locked gazes.
He thought its eyes were very sad.
19
It was the morning of Kinsel Rukanis’ trial.
Under the circumstances, Caldason thought it odd that Karr should have chosen this day to invite him to share a secret. He wouldn’t be drawn on what it was, and made Reeth swear not to mention it to anyone, without exception. But in the carriage, on their way to a destination Karr wouldn’t reveal, he took the opportunity to castigate the Qalochian.
‘I have to tell you I’m not happy about the brawl you and Serrah got into. With the meld.’
‘We didn’t have too much choice.’
‘Yes, you did. As I understand it, you went looking for trouble.’
‘Then you understand it wrong, Karr. We weren’t looking for the meld.’
‘No, you were carrying out some half-baked little scheme of your own, you and Serrah. Spying on the paladins, of all damn things, without even telling us, let alone asking permiss
ion.’
‘Permission?’ Caldason smouldered.
‘I know authority’s not something you take to very well, Reeth; any kind of authority. But when you’ve thrown your lot in with the Resistance you have to accept some measure of discipline.’
‘It was a spur of the moment thing, I admit that. But we just wanted to do something about Kinsel.’
‘We all do, Reeth. But you and Serrah have no monopoly on compassion; Kinsel’s a friend of mine too, and I’ve known him a lot longer. Do you think I find it easy having to sit back while he’s put through the mill?’
‘No, Karr, I don’t.’
‘We don’t need unnecessary attention at the best of times, and certainly not now, with the move looming.’ He was looking tense and flushed.
‘All right,’ Reeth conceded. ‘Message received. Now take it easy, Karr. Don’t get worked up about it. You look ill.’
‘Why does everybody keep worrying about my health?’ the patrician came back heatedly.
‘Because you don’t. You’re pushing yourself too hard, man.’
‘I’ve little choice with everything that’s going on at the moment.’
‘There’s always a lot going on. Delegate.’
Karr didn’t answer. He stared out of the carriage’s half-blinded window. It was a crisp autumn day, chill but pleasantly sunny. There were plenty of people about, and road traffic was building up.
‘You’re not indispensable,’ Caldason appended. ‘You’ve told me often enough that nobody is.’
Karr returned his attention to him. ‘I don’t have the stamina I used to. My brain’s all right, more or less, but once I had energy to spare, and now…well, it’s just not there when I need it. Getting old’s a bastard, Reeth.’
Caldason had never heard Karr utter an oath before, even a mild one. ‘I know a bit about growing older. In a way.’
Realisation dawned. ‘Of course. Sorry. I don’t think of you that way.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘It’s hard to come to terms with the idea that you’re older than me.’
‘Imagine how I feel. But you’re right. Age takes people and twists them out of shape. They look in a mirror and start seeing a stranger. It’s life’s last great act of treachery. I’ve seen it happen to so many. By rights, it should have happened to me long since. You’ve no idea how hard it is, Karr, watching the people around you disfigured by the years, before they wither and die.’
‘I can see why you shun attachments.’
‘But it’s not always possible. Sometimes you can’t help being drawn in.’
‘That’s the thing about people, Reeth. The more you’re with them, the more you can’t help caring. Tell me…’
‘What?’
‘In my head I’m still a young man, still the idealistic youth who first got involved with the movement all those years ago. It’s my body that increasingly fails to respond, not my intellect. How…’
‘How’s my mind? Do I feel like an old man? No. I’m more or less the same inside as I was when I was young. A bit wiser, hopefully. And from what I can make out from other people, that’s the norm. It’s another trick Nature plays on us.’
They were silent for a while, watching the anonymous streets roll by.
‘Where are we going?’ Caldason said.
‘Just an ordinary private house. It’s not far now.’
‘Want to tell me what this is all about?’
‘Do you recall our first day here in Valdarr? When you and Kutch and I arrived together in Domex’s old wagon?’
‘What about it?’
‘Remember that storm, and how the lightning struck the energy line and fractured it?’
‘It’s not the sort of thing you’re likely to forget.’
‘No, it isn’t.’
‘What’s that got to do with where we’re going?’
‘You’re about to find out for yourself. We’re here.’
The carriage drew to a halt in an undistinguished side street, lined with unremarkable houses. It wasn’t a poor area, but nor was it particularly well-heeled. They got out. Karr nodded to the driver and the carriage left them.
‘Let’s not linger,’ he said.
He led Caldason to the front door, and delivered a rapid series of knocks. Shortly, a spy hatch slid open and they were scrutinised. Then the door was unbolted and they went in.
The man who admitted them nodded but didn’t speak. He was dressed like an ordinary worker, and was presumably a Resistance man. Caldason hadn’t seen him before, and Karr made no introductions.
‘Would you be good enough to let them know we’re here?’ Karr asked.
The man nodded again and pointed to an open door. They went through it and found themselves in a dusty, neglected room containing not much more than a worn table and a couple of chairs. The window was shuttered, and light came from a few candles.
‘It shouldn’t be long,’ Karr explained. ‘They have to be reasonably sure it isn’t dangerous.’
Caldason raised a quizzical eyebrow at that, but Karr didn’t elaborate.
A moment later the man came back and beckoned them. They were taken along a corridor to another door. This opened onto a staircase that snaked to the cellar, and they were left to make their own way down.
The cellar was quite large and brightly lit by a number of glamour lamps. There were two men and a woman there, all in their middle or late years, and all dressed in the blue ceremonial robes favoured by Covenant. Karr exchanged greetings with them, but again no names were offered. In one corner a wooden rail had been set up around a sizeable hole. It looked deep.
‘May we approach?’ Karr asked one of the blue-robed figures.
The man nodded. ‘But with care. And be ready to draw back if we tell you.’
‘I understand. Come on, Reeth.’
They approached the hole.
‘I think you’ll find this familiar,’ Karr reckoned.
The pit was deeper than the height of a tall man, and its sides were smooth. At its bottom a small pond of a substance resembling quicksilver had formed. The liquid flowed in from a cavity on one side of the excavation and out again through a similar recess on the opposite side. The silvery pool was agitated. It swirled and bubbled, and kaleidoscopic, varicoloured patterns played across its glistening surface, not unlike oil on water. Waves of intense cold rolled off it, though the cellar itself somehow maintained a normal temperature.
‘Remember what the sorcerers call it?’ Karr said. ‘Magic’s chariot. This was exposed when the owners of the house were extending the cellar. Like the channel we saw exposed by lightning, this one’s unusually close to the surface. Anyway, fortunately for us, the people who lived here are sympathetic to our cause and got word to us. We moved them out and took over the place.’
‘Fortunate? How is this of any use to the Resistance?’
‘It could be of immense value, if a theory our friends in Covenant have proves correct. But I’ll let them explain it.’ He called over the man who had just spoken to them.
The Covenant member wasted no time on a preamble. ‘For years we’ve suspected that the energy lines have a number of functions. Well, more than suspected; we’ve grown sure of it, based on the extensive research we’ve undertaken on the Founders. One possibility in particular has long intrigued us: we think the energy lines can be used as a communication network.’
Caldason had been staring into the pit, transfixed by the shifting patterns. Now he looked up.
‘I don’t pretend to understand all the esoteric details,’ Karr admitted, ‘but it makes sense. We know the grid is everywhere; it almost certainly covers the whole world. It’s not beyond the bounds of reason to imagine feeding in a message of some sort at one point and having it come out at another.’
‘Nor would it necessarily take too much time to transmit,’ the Covenant man went on. ‘There’s every reason to believe it could carry information almost instantly.’
‘You really believe that’s possible?’ Cal
dason remarked.
‘For the Founders, entirely possible. From what we’ve learnt, it could have been one of their minor miracles.’
‘Think of it,’ Karr enthused; ‘the ability to send and receive messages anywhere in the world, providing you’re near a line. Which, of course, everyone is.’
‘And you could use it that way?’ Caldason asked.
‘That’s probably a way off, to be honest,’ the sorcerer replied.
‘But Covenant’s made a discovery,’ Karr added. ‘It seems somebody’s already employing it for that purpose.’
‘Let’s get this straight,’ Caldason said. ‘These channels, the energy lines, are like…’ he groped for a parallel ‘…a network of rivers. And if you have a boat, you could go anywhere in it.’
The sorcerer smiled. ‘That’s rather well put. Except the boat would move faster than any wind could drive it.’
‘But you’re saying someone’s already using this network for sending messages?’
The Covenant man nodded.
‘It looks like it,’ Karr confirmed.
‘Who?’ Caldason wanted to know.
‘That’s the big question. But logically, it’s going to be an elite, isn’t it? Those who rule us. Whether that’s the leaders of Gath Tampoor or Rintarah, or the state on a lower level, like the government here in Bhealfa…well, it’s a moot point. But I think a resource like this, with all its potential, is probably going to be jealously guarded by the highest. It would give them such an edge.’
‘So, making use of it ourselves isn’t really an option if somebody is already using it?’
‘Right. Not much privacy. But that led us to think about another way of turning this to our advantage. If the grid’s being used to send messages, maybe we can intercept them.’
Caldason addressed the sorcerer. ‘It’s within your power to do that?’
‘In theory, yes. But it’s by no means easy.’
‘What does it involve?’
The Righteous Blade Page 19
