The Crucible of Time

by John Brunner

  He who had been the town's elder for so long, its guide and counselor: left here to rot unheeded! Had he been stabbed? But a quick tactile check confirmed that he had simply died from stress. Well, that was a relief, of a sort—but still an insult!

  Tenthag drew himself together and put on the best imitation he could contrive of his father's appearance. Maintaining it, while imitating an old'un's hobble, he let himself show in the circle of brightness shed by the town-center lights.

  It was Sprapter who first noticed him, accepting a shell of araq. He was so startled that he tilted it and cursed as the biting liquid spilled down his torso. Before he could speak, while others were still turning to gaze at him, Tenthag said loudly enough to be heard by everyone, "Have they shown you a female with a bud?"

  Fifthorch, offering more araq to another of the People of the Sea, started so violently he almost slumped, and Tenthag, still posing as his father, padded towards him. In a thin voice he repeated, "A female with a bud—have they shown you one?"

  "Drive him off!" Sprapter cried, struggling to full height.

  "Why?" Tenthag countered. "You have the secret of fertility, or so your banners claim! That means you must have buds and young'uns in your fleet!"

  "Of course they have the secret!" Fifthorch shouted, while the hunger-sluggish minds of those around him registered what Tenthag was saying. "They've sold it to us, and on fair terms, what's more!"

  "But have they shown a single young'un, or a she'un budding?" Tenthag abandoned his disguise and strode to take station at Sprapter's side, his prong leveled. "I say they haven't even met the southern fleets which raided Ognorit, but stole everything you could offer in the hope that when they do they'll get the secret! Truth, Sprapter—tell the truth!

  And for every lie I'll let the pressure out of one of your tubules!" He jabbed the commander's torso, just enough.

  Terrified, Sprapter babbled, "I swear we would have kept our bargain! We needed to buy the secret and we'd have come back and—"

  "You mean you didn't give it to us?" Fifthorch said, belatedly reacting to the commander's reek of guilt and shame.

  Without compunction Tenthag slit a minor tubule in the trickster's torso, forcing him to fold over and compress the leak until it sealed.

  "I don't know what they clawed off you," he said mildly, "but as I tried to tell you earlier, I was at Ognorit, and learned from Gveest himself what must be done. On the briq where I was captive, I met a she'un who was ripe for budding, and she had no bud. I saw not a single bud or young'un in this fleet that claims to sell the secret! What do you make of that, you fools who left Ninthag to leak away his life on that path yonder? Who'd have the secret merely to sell to others, without using it to benefit themselves?"

  A pulsation later he was frightened by the forces he had loosed, for Fifthorch roared with mindless rage and launched himself at Sprapter. Before the two could be separated the commander was as dead as Ninthag, and the air was foul with the stench of drying ichor and loud with screams of pain.

  But within moments the seafolk were cowering to the ground, emitting the odor of surrender, and finding themselves about to slash or stab with whatever weapon came to claw, the Neesans recovered enough of their normal awareness to realize what they had done, and be horrified at it. Weak, but calm, they began to mutter among themselves that Tenthag had been right, and they were stupid not to have insisted on being shown a budded she'un before parting with their goods.

  Suddenly Tenthag found them all looking to him for guidance, seafolk and Neesans alike ... except for Fifthorch, who faded into the dark moaning about the need to wash off Sprapter's ichor.

  He said after a pause for reflection, "Eat what there is. Give nothing more to the seafolk. You must restore your strength of mind and body both, because you're going to make these liars pay for their deceit. Not only are they going to return what they cheated you out of; they're going to be set to work recovering the plants you've let run wild, ridding the town of mold and orqid, bringing fish from deep water, and laying up great stores of food against the time when the real secret of fertility is brought hither. It won't be long, I'm sure. But there must be food first!"

  The seafolk whispered among themselves. Eventually one sub-commander rose to normal height.

  "It's fair judgment," he admitted sullenly. "I'm Loric. I've been chosen as Sprapter's successor. I'll abide by your terms, but I'll ask one thing in return."

  "You don't deserve anything," Tenthag snapped. "Feel free to ask, though, as I shall to refuse."

  "You do owe me something," Loric insisted. "Sprapter wanted to kill your porp, or at any rate drive her to open water. But I've been in charge of our food-plants for years, and I saw new ones on the porp which gave me ideas. That's why I insisted on her being lashed alongside the briq. I wanted to study and adapt them. They told us that was how you were able to escape, though I must admit none of us expected you to return. It was a brave thing to do, and your countryfolk ought to be proud of you. Instead, they described you as a traitor and a runaway, especially Fifthorch, and in the end they made us believe it, so you took us completely by surprise ... Don't you owe me something, though, for saving your porp?"

  "I guess so," Tenthag admitted gruffly. "Very well. When you leave here, which won't be soon, you'll have grafts of Gveest's new food-plants to help you on your way. But it may take months before there are enough for both Neesos and your fleet, and in spite of being foolish my people are still my people, and they get first call. By that time you'll have learned a lot about food-plants on land, I promise you."

  "You're an honest man in spite of being a courier. You won't regret striking this bargain. How do you think I was able to persuade your folk that we did truly have the secret of fertility? Could I have convinced them without considerable understanding of all sorts of life-forms? Oh, I'm not a Gveest; I'm more the practical type. But if there's any connection between his work with plants and lower animals, and what he's discovered that will make us breed, then don't be surprised if I figure out the secret for myself eventually. I'd like to, obviously. It'd save us a trip south, into waters where there are already too many of us for the junqs and briqs available, not so?"

  It was impossible not to be won over by this fellow's audacity. Tenthag tried to stop himself quirking into a smile. Loudly he said, "Work, then, if you want to clench the deal! We have two funerals to conduct immediately. Then we must tell the rest of your company the fate in store."

  X

  What Tenthag was doing was not in accord with his commission; he should have returned directly to Bowock. But after the hostility he had met on the day of his departure, he was in no hurry. Besides, his actions were consonant with his courier's oath, at least in his opinion. By summer's end there would be at least one fleet—small, admittedly—in possession not of the secret of fertility but of information far more essential, which it could then trade to supplement the couriers' efforts. And the seafolk would need to trade if they did begin to multiply; one bud per she'un would require at least two extra briqs or another junq, complete with food-plants, and this far north there were few young wild'uns nowadays.

  He occupied himself not only with supervising the restoration of Neesos's fortunes, but with retaining and exercising Flapper, whom he took to sea almost daily with the fleet on its fishing-trips. Once they had grown resigned to the failure of their intended fraud, the seafolk proved to be friendly enough, and of course they had far more in common with couriers than they were usually prepared to admit. In the end even Veetalya recovered from the shame she felt at having let Tenthag escape, and their relations became very friendly. Loric, too, turned out to be likable, and interested not only in life-study but star-study also. Together they pondered the possible meaning of that star which almost nightly shone yellower, brighter, hotter. Through a good telescope it could be seen to be surrounded by a sort of aura, like drifting smoke.

  "That's some of the cold matter massing to block our way to the future,"
Tenthag explained soberly. "But before we get that far, more of it will doubtless turn into stars, more will be drawn into our own sun, more will tumble out of space and crash into the oceans, raising huge waves, or smash down on land and burn forests to ash ... Oh, Loric, we are caught in a trap worse than a gigant's claw! On the one side, the risk that there won't be enough of the folk for us to save ourselves; on the other, that there may be far too many!"

  "Don't you think we'll make it?" Veetalya asked timidly.

  Tenthag shrugged with his entire mantle. "When I see what we can do when we combine our efforts, as here on Neesos, I feel very optimistic. But when I remember how nearly my own people went insane, and how you tried to take advantage ... Who can say?"

  Turning the telescope curiously in all directions, for it was superior to any he had used before, Loric suddenly stiffened.

  "Another fleet!" he whispered. "Look! See the glimmer on the water?"

  "Where...? Oh, yes! Give me the telescope ... But those aren't junqs or briqs! They're porps—you can tell by the way they move! And none but couriers use porps, and that must be half the complement the Guild can boast! Quick, to the beach, and signal!"

  As he incontinently led the way, hoping no loose rock would betray his steps in the dark, he wondered silently what disaster had brought this about.

  Within a very short time, as all the folk of the island gathered on the beach, he learned the terrible truth. First to land was Dippid himself, followed by Nemora, and then another score of his friends and colleagues. When they had got over their astonishment at finding Tenthag alive and well, they told their story.

  "We thought you must be dead," Dippid rasped. "Many of the couriers have been attacked for not possessing the secret of fertility, by people convinced they did but were holding out for the highest price. It's a rumor started by the Major South Fleet. Iyosc was right; they did raid Ognorit and now they're trading what they're pleased to call 'the right to bud' ... against everything they can lay their claws on, especially seed and food-plants!"

  Tenthag exchanged glances with his companions, who by now included Fifthorch. He said slowly, "What's the situation like at Bowock? Have you been driven away?"

  "Yes," was Nemora's simple answer, and she turned aside in grief. Dippid amplified.

  "Iyosc was right about that, too. She'uns in bud and their companions, deprived of all their food-stocks by the greed of the People of the Sea, naturally started heading for the cities, not just Bowock, but any place where it looked as though there were still plenty of victuals. Bowock has been the chief magnet, obviously, because of that rumor that we were withholding the secret. And I regret to admit..."

  He hesitated. Recovering, Nemora said curtly, "Some of the Jingfired betrayed their trust. Either they got hold of Gveest's technique, or they were able to work it out from what was already known. Anyhow, they applied it to themselves. It was impossible to keep that secret. As soon as the news got out ... Well, you can imagine its effect. We clung on as long as we could, but when we learned that couriers were being hunted down and killed we decided to flee. I remembered coming to Neesos, all those years ago, and as near as we could calculate we believed it must still be well beyond the sweep of the Major Fleet. Besides, the closer we got, the more we heard rumors that the people of lonely islands like this one were abandoning their homes and making for mainland cities, where the bud-right might be theirs all the sooner."

  "Some of the folk did leave here," Tenthag muttered, and went on to explain what he had found on his arrival.

  "You were very sensible not to return to Bowock," Dippid pronounced at last. "It may not have been what you were supposed to do, but it's turned out for the best."

  "Do you have the bud-secret?" Loric demanded suddenly.

  There was a pause like the interval between the lightning and the thunder. At last Dippid heaved a sigh.

  "Yes. We had to bring something we could trade for food."

  "That's liable to draw crowds of crazy folk to Neesos, then!" cried Fifthorch, indicating how much he had learned about the real world since Tenthag's return. "We must think of ways to defend ourselves—"

  "We must think of ways to feed ourselves," Tenthag corrected stonily. "Sane, well-nourished folk are always our friends and allies. Only the crazy ones are a threat. And now we have a vast stockpile of precious knowledge; couriers are as well informed as anybody short of the Jingfired themselves, or scientists like Gveest. Is there news of him, by the way?"

  Dippid clacked his mandibles. "Report has it that he and Pletrow and the rest are captives with the Major Fleet. But nobody knows for certain. It may just be another rumor put about to encourage folk to pay extortionate prices."

  "I hope for his sake he's not," Tenthag said softly. "I got to know him pretty well while I was at Ognorit, and I'm certain he would be horrified to see the dreadful impact his discovery is having. He knew about it, he tried to guard us against it, and through ill-luck I was the one who was obliged to undermine his precautions."

  "Iyosc forgave you for that," Nemora said, laying a claw friendly on his mantle-edge. "And what you're doing here is making further amends. What's more, perhaps the star—"

  "We've been over that!"—morosely from Dippid. "More likely it's a harbinger of catastrophe, like the old New Star."

  "It can't be! It's not at all the same!" Nemora hunched forward. "We know the other one outshone the Major Cluster, to begin with. No, I think this is more likely a stroke of good fortune. Changes like that going on in the sky are just what people will need to keep reminding them of Jingtruths. Things must have been equally bleak when the Northern Freeze began, and again at the time of the Great Thaw—yet here we are, and we have some achievements of our own to boast of!"

  "There's no comparison," Dippid maintained. "This time we're breaking the very mold we were cast in by our evolution!"

  Tenthag thought of Pletrow's collection of mutated animals, and shuddered as the chief courier went on.

  "No, it's going to be a different world. Even during the famine at Southmost Cape I never saw anything as horrible as what's now happening at Bowock. For all we can tell, there's something in the radiation from the stars that drives us crazy now and then, and what can we do to withstand that? Grow a roof over the entire planet?"

  "What use would a roof be against what's sure to fall on us one of these days?" said Tenthag wearily, and forced himself to full height. "No, we dare not try and hide from our doom. The universe will not permit it. We must carry on somehow, preserving at least a nucleus of reason ... There's a tale about the legendary Barratong. When he realized the Thaw was bringing more and more of the planet under his people's sway, he didn't rejoice or boast about it. He accepted the duty which the past had laid upon the present. Do you remember what he said?"

  "Of course," said Loric as he also rose. "All we People of the Sea are brought up to regard it as the finest principle of our heritage, though since it led to the foundation of Bowock and the Guild of Couriers— Never mind! This is not a moment for squabbling over what's past and done with. Barratong said, in fact, 'We are the Jingfired now!' "

  "It's our turn to say the same," said Tenthag, and padded miserably away towards the first glint of dawn, wondering how much sorrow and insanity the sun must shine on before the folk recovered from the shock of being multiplied.

  And if they would.

  PART FIVE

  BLOOM

  I

  The city of Voosla was allegedly approaching her landfall, but Awb could scarcely credit it. There was too much dark on the horizon.

  Wherever there was habitable ground there were people, and even more than food-crops the folk cultivated plants which, after sundown, either glowed of their own accord or gave back the light they had basked in earlier. Troqs who had taken to caves for refuge in desert regions where houses would not grow, squimaqs who eked out their existence around the poles where darkness could last for half a year—they knew that trying to manage without lumin
ants was to risk being driven into dreamness as certainly as by starvation, if not so quickly.

  And indeed, throughout the voyage until now, there had always been distant glimmerings: nothing like as bright, of course, as the lights of the city, but discernible with even a crude telescope like Awb's, which he had made himself and was very proud of. Thilling the picturist had ceded him a couple of lenses too worn for fixing perfect images, and fitted into a tube they afforded a view of the strange northern coasts they were paralleling.

  However, they also showed, much too plainly for comfort, that blank gap on the edge of an otherwise populous continent. There was something so eerie about it that it made his weather-sense queasy. He found himself longing for the familiar scenery of the tropics which, since his budding, the city had never previously left.

  To think that one new moon ago he had been beside himself with excitement at the prospect of this journey to the intended site of the World Observatory...!

  Swarming along the branchways in search of distraction, he shortly discovered that a crowd had gathered on the lookout platform at the prow, including most of the delegation from the University of Chisp. Their chief, Scholar Drotninch, was conferring with Mayor Axwep.

  Awb also found it disturbing to have so many foreigners traveling with them. Voosla was by no means a large city, and he knew all her inhabitants at least by sight. Before this trip he had been used to meeting strangers, if at all, by ones and twos, not scores together. Still, the scientists were polite enough, and some—like Thilling—were positively friendly, so he decided to chance a rebuff and draw close enough to overhear.

  And was considerably reassured by an exchange indicating that he was not alone in worrying about this unnaturally lightless shore.

  "Amazing, isn't it?"—from Drotninch. "Last time I came up here, this was the brightest spot for padlonglaqs."