Captives of the Flame

by Samuel R. Delany

  CHAPTER XII

  In the laboratory tower of Toron, the transparent bubble above thereceiving stage brightened. In shimmering haze on the platform, thetransparent figures solidified. Then Alter and Tel slipped beneath therail on the stage and dropped down to the floor (Alter still wore thehospital robe and the cast on her left arm) while Arkor, Jon, and Petraused the metal stairway to descend. A battery of relays snappedsomewhere and the scarlet heads of forty-nine switches by the windowsnapped to off. The globe faded.

  "A bit more explanation," Petra was saying. "Hey, kids, keep quiet."

  "Well, as far as the Lord of the Flames goes, on Earth anyway, it's moreor less trivial and irrelevant," said Arkor. "You're still right. Thiswar is in Toromon, not outside it."

  "My curiosity is still peaked," Jon said. "So give."

  "From what I gathered while I saw scanning the minds of those two whocame out of the generator building with the Lord of the Flames (I shouldsay the host of the Lord of the Flames), there's a tribe behind thebarrier which resembles more or less what man might have been forty orfifty thousand years ago. Physically they're squat, thick-boned, andhave the elements of a social system. Mentally they're pretty thick andsquat too. The Lord of the Flames got into one of them just about whenhe was at age four. Then he gave the kid about sixty thousand yearsworth of technical information. So he began building all sorts ofgoodies, forcing his people to help him, using some equipment from aruined city that dates from pre-Great Fire times behind the barrier.That's how the generators and the anti-aircraft guns got constructed."

  "Our war is still going on," Jon said.

  "Well, the Lord of the Flames is no longer with us," said Petra. "We'vechased it to the other end of the universe. Now that we've removed whatexternal reason there was for the war, we've got to think about theinternal ones."

  "What are you going to do immediately about the kids?" Jon asked.

  "I think the best thing for them to do is to go off to my estate for alittle while," Petra said.

  "It's on an island, isn't it?" Tel asked.

  "That's right," Petra said.

  "Gee, Alter. Now I can teach you how to fish, and we'll be right by thesea."

  "What about Uske?" Arkor asked. "You can either walk into his room andinterrupt an obscene dream he's having, and present your case and bearrested for treason, or you can leave well enough alone at this pointand wait till the opportunity comes to do something constructive."

  Suddenly Jon grinned. "Hey, you say he's asleep?" He turned and boundedfor the door.

  "What are you going to do?" Petra called.

  Jon looked at Arkor. "Read my mind," he said.

  Then Arkor laughed.

  * * * * *

  In his bedroom, Uske rolled over through a silken rustle, opened oneeye, and thought he heard a sound.

  "Hey, stupid," someone whispered.

  Uske reached out of bed and pressed the night light. A dim orange glowdid not quite fill half the room.

  "Now don't get panicky," continued the voice. "You're dreaming."

  "Huh?" Uske leaned on one elbow, blinked, and scratched his head withhis other hand.

  A shadow approached him, then stopped, naked, faceless, transparent,half in and half out of the light. "See," came the voice. "A figment ofyour imagination."

  "Oh, I remember you," Uske said.

  "Fine," said the shadow. "Do you know what I've been doing since thelast time you saw me?"

  "I couldn't be less interested," Uske said, turning over and looking theother way.

  "I've been trying to stop the war. Do you believe me?"

  "Look, figment, it's three o'clock in the morning. I'll believe it, butwhat's it to you."

  "Just that I think I've succeeded."

  "I'll give you two minutes before I pinch myself and wake up." Usketurned back over.

  "Look, what do you think is behind the radiation barrier?"

  "I think very little about it, figgy. It doesn't have very much to dowith me."

  "It's a primitive race that can't possibly harm us, especially now thatits--its generators have been knocked out. All of its artillery it gotfrom a source that is now defunct. Look, Uske, I'm your guiltyconscience. Wouldn't it be fun to really be king for a while and stopthe war? You declared war. Now declare peace. Then start examining thecountry and doing something about it."

  "Mother would never hear of it. Neither would Chargill. Besides, allthis information is only a dream."

  "Exactly, Uske. You're dreaming about what you really want. So how doesthis sound: make a deal with me as your guilty conscience andrepresentative of yourself; if this dream turns out to be correct, thenyou declare peace. It's the only logical thing. Come on, stand up foryourself, be a king. You'll go down in history as having started a war.Wouldn't you like to go down as having stopped it too?"

  "You don't understand...."

  "Yes, I know. A war is a bigger thing that the desires of one man, evenif he is a king. But if you get things started on the right foot, you'llhave history on your side."

  "Your two minutes have been cut down to one; and it's up."

  "I'm going; I'm going. But think about it, Uske."

  Uske switched off the light and the ghost went out. A few minutes laterJon crawled through the laboratory tower window, buttoning his shirt.Arkor shook his head, smiling. "Well," he said. "Good try. Here's hopingit does some good."

  Jon shrugged.

  * * * * *

  In the morning, Rara got up early to sweep off the front steps of theinn (windows boarded, kitchen raided, but deserted now save for her; andshe had the key); she swept to the left, looking right, then swept tothe right, looked left, and said, "Dear Lord, you can't stay there likethat. Come on, now. Get on, be on your way."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "For pity's sake, woman, you can't go around cluttering up the steps ofan honest woman's boarding house. We're re-opening this week, soon as weget the broken windows repaired. Vandals didn't leave a one, after theold owner died. Just got my license, so it's all legal. Soon as we getthe window, so you just move on."

  "I just got here, this morning.... They didn't tell us where to go, theyjust turned us off the ship. And it was so dark, and I was tired.... Ididn't know the City was so big. I'm looking for my son--not so big! Weused to be fishermen back on the mainland. I did a little weaving."

  "And your son ran off to the City and you ran off after him. Good luckin the New Land; welcome to the island of Opportunity. But just get upand move on."

  "But my son...."

  "There are more fishermen's sons down here in the Devil's Pot than youcan shake a stick at--fishermen's sons, farmers' sons, blacksmiths'sons, sons' sons. And all of their mothers were weavers or watercarriers, or chicken raisers. I must have talked to all of them at onetime or another. I won't even tell you to go down to the launch wherethey take the workers out to the aquariums and the hydroponic's gardens.That's what most of the young people do when they get here ... if theycan get a job. I won't even tell you to go there, because there're somany people that work there, you might miss him a dozen days running."

  "But the war--I thought he might have joined...."

  "Somewhere in this ridiculous mess," interrupted Rara, her birthmarkdeepening in color, "I have misplaced a niece who was as close to me asany daughter or son ever was to any mother or father. All reports saythat she's dead. So you just be happy that you don't know about yours.You be very happy, do you hear me!"

  The woman was standing up now. "You say the launches to the factory?Which way are they?"

  "I'm telling you not to go. They're that way, down two streets, and toyour left until you hit the docks. Don't go."

  "Thank you," the woman was saying, already off down the street. "Thankyou." As she reached the middle of the block, someone rounded the cornera moment later, sprinting. He brushed past the woman and ran toward thedoor of the inn.

  "Tel," whispered R
ara. "Tel!"

  "Hi, Rara." He stopped, panting.

  "Well, come in," she said. "Come inside." They stepped into the lobby ofthe inn. "Tel, do you know anything about what happened to Alter? I gota weird story from General Medical. And then you disappeared. My lord, Ifeel like a crazy fool opening this place. But if somehow she wanted toget to me, where would she go if I wasn't here? And then, what am I todo anyway. I mean I have to eat, and--"

  "Rara," he said, and he said it so that she stopped talking. "Look Iknow where Alter is. And she's safe. As far as you know, you don't knowwhere she is, if she's alive or dead. But you suspect she isn't alive.I'll be going to her, but you don't know that either. I just came tocheck on some things."

  "I've got all her things together right here. They gave me her clothesat the hospital, and put them all into a bundle in case we had to make aquick getaway. We had to do that once when we were working in a carnivalwhere the manager suddenly took a liking to her and made himself a pest.She was twelve. He was a beast. Maybe you should take--"

  "The fewer things I take the better," Tel said. Then he saw the bundleon the table by the door. On top was a leather thong to which a fewchips of colored shell still clung. "Maybe this," he said, picking itup. "What shape is Geryn's room in?"

  "The place has been ransacked since they took him away," she said."Everybody and his brother has been picking at the place. What aboutGeryn, how is he?"

  "Dead," Tel said. "What I really came about was to burn his plans forthe kidnaping."

  "Dead?" Rara asked. "Well, I'm not surprised. Oh, the plans! Why Iburned those myself the minute I got back into his room. They were allover the table; why they didn't take them all up right then, I'llnever--"

  "Did you burn every last scrap?"

  "And crumbled the ashes, and disposed of them one handful at a time overa period of three days by the docks. Every last scrap."

  "Then I guess there's nothing for me to do," he said. "You may not seeme or Alter for a long time. I'll give her your love."

  Rara bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "For Alter," she said. Thenshe asked, "Tel?"

  "What?"

  "That woman you brushed by in the street when I saw you running up theblock...."

  "Yes?"

  "Did you ever see her before?"

  "I didn't look at her very carefully. I'm not sure. Why?"

  "Never mind," Rara said. "You just get on out of here before.... Well,just get."

  "So long, Rara." He got.

  * * * * *

  Not so high as the towers of the Royal Palace of Toron, the green tilebalcony outside Clea's window caught the breeze like the hem of anemerald woman passing the sea. There was water beyond the other houses,deeper blue than the sky, and still. She leaned over the balconyrailing. On the white marble table were her notebook, a book on mattertransmission, and her slide rule.

  "Clea."

  She whirled at the voice, her black hair leaping across her shoulder inthe low sun.

  "Thanks for getting my message through."

  "This is you," she said slowly. "In person now."

  "Uh-huh."

  "I'm not quite sure what to say," she said, blinking. "Except I'm glad."

  "I've got some bad news," he said.

  "How do you mean?"

  "Very bad news. It'll hurt you."

  She looked puzzled, her head going to the side.

  "Tomar's dead."

  The head straightened, the black eyebrows pulled together, and her lowerlip tautened across her teeth until her jaw muscles quivered. She noddedonce, quickly, and said, "Yes." Then, as quickly, she looked down and upat him. Her eyes were closed. "That ... that hurts so much."

  He waited a few moments, and then said, "Here, let me show yousomething."

  "What?"

  "Come over to the table. Here." He took a handful of copper centiunitpieces from his pocket, moved her books and slide rule over, andarranged the coins in a square, four by four, only with one cornermissing. Now he took a smaller, silver deciunit and put it on the tableabout a foot from the missing corner. "Shoot it into the gap there," hesaid.

  She put her forefinger on the silver disk, was still, and then snappedher finger. The silver circle shot across the foot of white marble, hitthe corner, and two pieces of copper bounced away from the other side ofthe square. She looked at him, questioningly.

  "It's a gambling game, called Randomax. It's getting sort of popular inthe army."

  "Random for random numbers, max for matrix?"

  "You've heard of it?"

  "Just guessing."

  "Tomar wanted you to know about it. He said you might be interested insome of its aspects."

  "Tomar?"

  "Just like I monitored your phone calls, I overheard him talking toanother soldier about it before he--before the crash. He just thoughtyou'd be interested."

  "Oh," she said. She moved the silver circle away from the others, putthe dislocated copper coins back in the square again, and flipped thesmaller coin once more. Two different coins jumped away. "Damn," Cleasaid, softly.

  "Huh?" He looked up. Tears were running down her face.

  "Damn," she said. "It hurts." She blinked and looked up again. "Whatabout you? You still haven't told me all that's happened to you. Wait amoment." She reached for her notebook, took a pencil up, and made anote.

  "An idea?" he asked.

  "From the game," she told him. "Something I hadn't thought of before."

  He smiled. "Does that solve all your problems on--what werethey--sub-trigonometric functions?"

  "Inverse sub-trigonometric functions," she said. "No. It doesn't go thatsimply. Did you stop your war?"

  "I tried," he said. "It doesn't go that simply."

  "Are you free?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm glad. How did it come about?"

  "I used to be a very hardheaded, head-strong, sort of stupid kid, whowas always doing things to get me into more trouble than it would getthe people I did it to. That was about my only criterion for doinganything. Unfortunately I didn't do it very well. So now, stillhead-strong, maybe not quite so stupid, I've at least picked up a littleskill. I had to do something where the main point wasn't whether it hurtme or not. They just had to be done. I had to go a long way, see a lotof things, and I guess it sort of widened my horizons, gave me some roomto move around-some more freedom."

  "Childhood and a prison mine doesn't give you very much, does it?"

  "No."

  "What about the war, Jon?"

  "Let's put it this way. As far as what's on the other side of theradiation barrier, which is pretty much out of commission now, there'sno need for a war. None whatsoever. If that gets seen and understood bythe people who have to see and understand it, then fine. If not, wellthen, it isn't that simple. Look, Clea, I just came by for a fewminutes. I want to get out of the house before Dad sees me. Keep ontalking to him. I'll be disappearing for a while, so you'll have to doit. Just don't bother to tell him I'm alive."

  "Jon...."

  He smiled. "I mean I want to do it myself when I come back."

  She looked down a moment, and when she looked up he was going back intothe house. She started to say good-bye, but bit back the words.

  Instead, she sat down at the table; she opened the notebook; she cried alittle bit. Then she started writing again.

  * * * * *

  THREE AGAINST INFINITY

  The Empire of Toromon had finally declared war. The attacks on itsplanes had been nothing compared to the final insult--the kidnapping ofthe Crown Prince. The enemy must be dealt with, and when they were,Toromon would be able to get back on its economic feet.

  But how would the members of this civilization--one of the few thatsurvived the Great Fire--get beyond the deadly radiation barrier, behindwhich the enemy lay? And assuming they got beyond the barrier, how wouldthey deal with that enemy--the Lord of the Flames--whose very presencewas unknown to the peo
ple among whom he lived?

  Turn this book over for second complete novel

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  [Transcriber's Note: Caret symbol (^) is used to represent superscripts. The number in {} is the exponent.]