by Julian May
They walked among the improvised huts toward a tributary of the Rhine, where the hospital tent had been set up. Many of the refugees came out of their shelters and stood in silence, watching Madame go by. She nodded to them and sometimes spoke a name, for almost all of these people had passed through the auberge during her tenure—and even those who were not known to her personally knew very well who she was.
Some of them smiled. A number of faces displayed open hostility and one man spat and turned his back on her. But most watched with a spiritless torpor that made the old woman's heart shrink.
"It was right, what we did!" She hurried along between Burke and Kawai, arms held stiff at her sides. "They had to be freed. They will become accustomed to it soon and then they will be content again."
"Of course," said Chief Burke gently.
Kawai said, "They are still profoundly shocked. We must make allowances for them. Later they will appreciate their release from bondage."
"Many will continue to hate me, though." Her voice was toneless. "First for having sent them into slavery, and now for having freed them, casting them into fresh uncertainty. Their misery lies heavy upon my conscience. If I had not permitted them to pass through the time-portal, this tragedy would never have taken place."
"They would have found another way to make themselves miserable," Burke said. "Look at me! The last of the shmohawks, for God's sake. No more Wallawallas after the Big Chief passes into the Happy Hunting Grounds—so I dramatize the damn shame of it by calling a press conference and telling the rotten paleskins, 'I will fight no more forever. ' Not a dry eye on the Tri-D in a dozen Yankee planets as the noble Native American jurist makes his gesture. But later I got a note from the tribal council of the Yakimas telling me to get the hell back on the bench and quit being such a damn kvetch."
Old Man Kawai said, "We have all of us been foolish, Angélique. But you are not to blame. Without your time-gate as an honorable exit, I would likely have taken my own life. That is perhaps true of many of us exiles. But I came here instead—and it is true that I endured much suffering at first, while I was a captive of the Tanu. But later, after my escape, I knew also a great joy. I have learned that there is happiness to be found in service to others. Without you, without your time-gate, I would have ended my days as selfishly as I lived most of them. I am still a fool, perhaps. But I am a fool who has known good friends and true peace."
Madame's head lowered. "Nevertheless, I will not find my own peace until I atone in the way that I must. The slavery of the gray and silver torcs must be abolished. And the time-portal must be closed. We have made a beginning here at Finiah—but I will see it to completion or die!"
She began to cough violently and her face went bluish white.
"Goddam it!" muttered Burke. He scooped her up and went striding toward the shelter of the field hospital, a great tent made from dozens of durofilm tarps zipped together into a pavilion with screened sides.
"Put me down, Peo! I am quite all right." She struggled in his arms.
Kawai, trotting ahead, brought a swarthy man with tired eyes and a stethoscope held at the ready. "Put her on the plank table," the physician said. After examining the state of the old woman's lungs, the doctor said, "You don't take care of yourself, you're gonna drown in your own glop! Hear me? You been doing the drainage exercises Amerie prescribed?"
"They are undignified."
"Mashallah! Will you listen to the woman?" He scratched at an irritated ring of skin beneath his Adam's apple where the gray torc had been. "You guys—talk some sense into her!"
He produced a minidoser and applied it to her jugular.
"That will help some. But only rest will let your body get that fluid out of your lungs. Now are you going to behave?"
Madame said, "Hélas, Jafar chéri! There are matters that require my attention." Ignoring his protests, she got down from the table and toured the hospital, where most of the faces looked warmly upon her. One obviously pregnant woman, lying on a cot in the remnants of a splendid court costume, seized Madame's hand and kissed it.
"Thank God you freed us." The woman began to weep. "Twelve years. Twelve years of a living nightmare—and now it's over."
Madame smiled and gently extricated her hand from the woman's grasp. "Yes, for you it is over, dear child. You are free."
The woman hesitated. "Madame ... what am I to do with it when it comes? There are other women, too, carrying their children. I am too close to delivery. But the others—"
"You must make your own choices. The tenets of my own faith would counsel me to bear the child. It is, after all, innocent. After that ... perhaps the wisest action is that followed by the Tanu themselves."
The pregnant woman whispered, "I should give it back to them?"
"The Firvulag will help you." Madame raised her eyes to the doctor. "You will see to it, if this is what she decides?"
"I will."
The old woman bent and kissed the forehead of the expectant mother. "I must now undertake a long journey. Perhaps you will pray for my ... safe arrival at my destination."
"Oh, yes, Madame. And I'll tell the others."
With a small gesture of farewell, the old woman turned away. The doctor followed her to the door of the tent where Kawai and Chief Burke waited.
"They are now in your hands, Jafar chéri. You and Lucy and Lu-butu must take care of them, since Amerie will go south with us."
The physician wagged his head in dismay. "You're still determined to go?" He looked helplessly at Burke. "It's insanity."
"I must carry out my plan," she insisted. "We leave early tomorrow morning. Only three weeks remain of the Truce and there is no time to waste."
Burke said, "If you won't consider your own welfare, think of the rest of us! Having to worry about you and take care of you. Amerie would probably act sensibly and stay in Hidden Springs if she didn't feel you needed her."
Angélique Guderian looked up at the huge red man with affection. "You do not trap me with your forked tongue, mon petit sauvage. Now that Felice has returned from Finiah with her obedient herd of chalikos, we will ride south in comfort. As for Soeur Amerie, she has her own reasons for wishing to participate in the operation, as have the other volunteers. And so we march! Au 'voir, Jafar. We go now to the village to complete the last arrangements." She began walking toward the hospital door.
The doctor called out, "Reconsider, Madame!" But she only laughed.
Old Man Kawai shrugged as he started after her. "You have seen that it is useless to argue with her, Jafar. And perhaps, when you are as old as Peo Burke and I, you will understand why she thinks she must finish this affair herself."
"Oh, I understand," said the doctor. "Only too well."
He went back into the ward, where the expectant mother had begun to moan.
5
MARIALENA COOKED the farewell supper herself, laying places at Madame's table for the eleven who were going south, plus one for Kawai, who would take over as Freeleader in the morning.
When all were seated, the Frenchwoman said, "The Reverend Sister will ask a blessing."
Amerie said in a low voice, "Lord, bless this food. Bless this company. Bless this crazy undertaking."
"Ameen," said Khalid Khan.
The others, excepting Felice, said, "Amen." Then they heaped their plates and passed stoneware jugs of chilled wine.
"I thought Pegleg was coming," Khalid said.
Madame confessed, "I told him to meet us tomorrow before we set out. Perhaps you will think me a foolish old woman, mes enfants, but I judged it would be better to confer one last time tonight among ourselves. I know that Fitharn has seemed a faithful comrade during this perilous time. Nevertheless, we should not forget that his first loyalty is to his own Firvulag race. And I have never trusted the ar-rière-pensée of King Yeochee and Pallol One-Eye. There is always the chance that they plan to use us treacherously once we have succeeded in destroying the torc factory and closing the time-portal."
"Too bad outlaw humans aren't covered by the Truce," said the nun. She dropped a piece of meat to her little wildcat, which lurked under the table.
"Fat chance," said Peo Burke. "Pass the burgundy—or whatever that is. My old wound needs anesthetizing."
"Speaking of wounds," Amerie went on, "I realize it's useless to urge Madame to stay behind. But Claude and Khalid are another matter. Claude's burns are just beginning to dry and a week isn't nearly enough recovery time for Khalid's concussion and arm and leg wounds."
"You need me," the Pakistani said. "I'm the only one who's ever been to Muriah."
"Ten years ago," the nun corrected him. "And via the Great South Road, not on the Rhône."
"The capital can't have changed much in that time. Besides, I'm looking forward to the boat trip. Gert and Hansi used to kayak on the river back in the future."
Hansi laughed grimly. "It should be a real pleasure cruise for invalids. But there's no escaping the fact that we need Khalid's knowledge of the city. Things will be tricky enough without getting lost."
"This is true," said Madame. "I am distressed that you must go, Khalid, after you have already done so much, but your help might be crucial to our success ... Claude, on the other hand, is merely being stubborn when he maintains his indispensability!"
"I suppose you're the only one capable of pushing that amber message carrier through the time-warp!" the paleontologist snapped. "I'm fitter than you are, Angélique, and I've earned my place on this mission if anybody has."
"Mulet polonais! Stay home and recover your health."
Felice whacked her spoon handle on the table. "Now don't you two start that again! You're both a pair of sick old coots with no business out of your rocking chairs, and if we had any sense we'd lock you in a shed together and go off without you."
"Fortunately," said Uwe Guldenzopf, taking a placid pull on his pipe, "we have no sense."
Madame glared at Claude. "It is my duty to go! I, who sinned in opening the time-portal, must atone by closing it."
"Hogwash," said Claude. "You've got a death wish, that's what."
Madame flung down her knife. "Will you, of all people, impugn my motives? Look to your own death wish, Monsieur le Professeur!"
Claude took a prim sip from his mug of wine. "Honi soit qui merdey pense, sweetheart."
"Order, dammit!" Chief Burke pounded his huge fist on the table. "As Warlord in Chief of this flea-bitten crew, I declare that there will be no more discussion of motives! All of us have volunteered. All of us have proved that we can be useful in one way or another—either at Castle Gateway or down in Muriah at the torc-works caper ... Now. I want to know whether there are any more serious questions before we wrap it up for the night."
"I have thought of one thing," Basil said with some diffidence. "As a newcomer to the group, I've hesitated to suggest any major modification of Madame Guderian's original scheme. And until Felice returned yesterday morning with her golden torc and the chalikos and said she would go with us, the point was moot anyway. What I'm trying to say is—how about the Spear?"
The others looked at the alpinist don with blank incomprehension. Basil had been liberated in the fall of Finiah, having spent a month in the city dungeons following his recapture on the lake. His place in the new expedition had been assured when he declared himself willing to use his mountaineering skills in scaling the walls of Castle Gateway, the Coercer Headquarters in Muriah, or any other fortress the group might care to invade. He was also, he admitted, "frightfully keen to teach the Tanu a lesson for having spoiled my Pliocene holiday."
Old Man Kawai now shook his head in regret. "The Spear's powerpack is completely discharged, Basil. You couldn't get a glim out of a micro-LED with the juice that's left. I had a stab at trying to open the pack myself, but I simply could not improvise a suitable tool. It needs a craftier hand."
"Still," Basil persisted, "if we could get the pack open, there's a good chance we could recharge it. Am I right?"
The former electronics manufacturer lifted his skinny shoulders. "The flyer was water-fusion powered. Why not the zapper?"
Felice said, "Jeez, guys, I'm not sure I can fine-tune my PK enough yet to break into the thing without ruining it."
"That wasn't what I had in mind," said the alpinist. "What you could do is carry the Spear south much more easily than the rest of us could do. It would be priceless for the assault against the torc-making establishment."
"He's right about that," Khalid agreed. "The factory is in the Coercer Guild Complex, locked up tighter than a Lylmik's virtue."
"Lest we forget," Amerie interposed, "the Spear is dead."
Basil said, "I have an idea who might resurrect it. Claude told me all about him one long hot afternoon weeks ago when we spent some time together in quod at Castle Gateway. Your talented little friend in the gold suit."
"Aiken Drum!" said Felice. "Little tricky-pockets!"
Claude's greenish eyes flashed. "He could! If anyone could decipher that antique photon weapon, Aiken could ... But would he? They made him a silver, remember. He might have thrown in with them by now. He was always out for the main chance."
"He was our friend," Amerie said. "He's a human being. He's got to help us against those monsters!"
"Felice could twist his arm," Claude suggested, his smile bland. "Or isn't that your style any more, little girl?"
The athlete ignored him. "Basil—I think your idea is a winner. We'll take the Spear, even if I have to shlep it on my back the whole thirteen hundred kloms down to Muriah. One way or another, we'll get Aiken Drum to make us a can opener."
Chief Burke said, "We can hope for the best ... Anything else?"
Nobody said anything. Uwe tapped the dottle from his pipe into the empty bowl before him. "Marialena is always furious when I do this. But perhaps one last time?"
"She'll forgive you," laughed Gert.
Chairs scraped back. Everybody got up and stretched. Those with cottages in the village prepared to leave. The others would spread sleeping bags upon Madame's floor.
Amerie laid a hand on Kawai's shoulder as the old man turned toward the door. "One favor, old friend."
"Only name it, Amerie-san."
The nun picked up the tiny pet wildcat. "If you could give a home to Deej—"
He bowed gravely and took the little animal into his arms. "I will keep her safe for you until you return to Hidden Springs. And you will. I have made a most formidable vow to the Martyrs of Nagasaki."
"Crazy old Buddhist," said the nun, pushing him out of the door.
6
"THIS JUDGMENT they demand of me concerning you," Brede began.
"Yes?" Elizabeth replied aloud, as always.
"It must be made consonant with their own racial destiny here. I have foreseen my dear Tanu and Firvulag people united and operant. This is my vision as of the most ancient days, before we ever came to this galaxy, to this planet of the Many-Colored Land. This destiny will happen, even though my prolepsis fails in showing me the how and when ... I would like to think that we have become friends, Elizabeth. I am deeply aware of your desire for noninvolvement in our affairs. But I cannot believe that you are an extraneous factor here! You are part of the pattern! And so are all of these others, your companions of Group Green, who have so gravely influenced Tanu and Firvulag and even the poor lost ones of the northern wilderness. I can see the lines of destiny reaching toward a sure convergence at the Grand Combat in three weeks' time. I see it, I tell you! And your role ... is strongly interwoven. But if not as racial genetrix—then what?"
"Brede, I will not be used." Even with her mental screens firm, the determination behind Elizabeth's statement had an adamantin
e luster.
"Then choose to help us," the exotic woman pleaded. "Your own human race, your own close friends, are bound up in this climax."
"No judgment you make concerning me will satisfy all of the Tanu factions. You know that. Your High King wants his new dynasty. But the Host of Nontusvel won't be satisfied until I'm safely dead. As for my friends ... they seem to be in better control of their own destinies than I am! Why won't you consider strict justice for me for a change, rather than viewing me as a chess-piece in your proleptic game? Let me go free and harmless away from this place if that's what I choose."
And I do. Soaring the world alone splendid at peace.
"But—the pattern! I tell you, I see it! If it is not your genes that are to influence us, then there must be some other factor. O Sister of the Mind, help me to focus my faltering vision!"
"Prescience was not a metafunction that was understood in my time. It was a wild talent. Unpredictable. The foreseeing was dangerous enough ... but any attempted manipulation of future events foreseen was known to us to be futile. Whether I go free or not, your vision must come to pass. So let me go."
Brede seemed not to have heard. They were sitting together in the limitless room without doors where the ambient atmosphere was enriched to the exotic's special need. But she had gone rigid and gasped in shallow exhalations while her features worked and her partly open mind showed a whirlpool of faces—human and Tanu and Firvulag and Howler—all gyrating and pulsing around Elizabeth's own image, and that generating filamentous probability lines forming and re-forming in what was almost a Lissajous fabric of incoherence—unordered, ununified.
"The psychounion!" Brede cried. "Not the genes—the mental Unity!" The mind of the Shipspouse brightened in such sweet hopefulness that even Elizabeth faltered in continuing to refuse empathy.
"What—are you saying, Brede?"
"That is your role! It doesn't matter when my people achieve their coalescence with the local Mind. It will happen. And when it does, I must be able to guide them into the orderly levels of metapsychic union that were the basis of the governing forces of your own Galactic Milieu, the reconciliation of divergent intellectual energies into an operant organic whole. You are to teach me how this is to be done! That is your role among us. You guided young children of your own time into the Unity. This was the focus of your life's work, as you have told me. In your Milieu, immature metafunctional minds were not left to flounder and make their own way. They were taught, led, enlightened. Show me how this was done. So that I will be ready. And then, if you still desire it, I will help you to ... leave us."