The Golden Torc

by Julian May

  The Queen looked shocked, then began to giggle. "The giganto-pithecus? Oh, Thaggy! The clever little devil. I mustn't miss it!"

  "Nobody wants to miss it," the King said gloomily. "That little joker has the crowd in the palm of his hand before he even gets into the blood events. They like the runty bastard, I tell you! And when he really starts to put on a show with his damned masterclass metafunctions in the battles, they'll respect him as well as lionize him. He'll romp through the High Mêlée giving a good account of himself and attract enough opportunists under his banner to support him in his bid for a Heroic Encounter with Nodonn."

  "A few urban dilettantes and hybrids!"

  Thagdal shook his head. "He's got at least three High Table champions lined up already. And contingents from Roniah and Calamosk and Geroniah and Var-Mesk have declared for him, too. Mayvar's made sure all the provincial lords know about Aiken Drum's golden balls."

  "They'll never choose that clown over Nodonn!"

  "Face it, Nonnie. Our son the Battlemaster has metafunctions to bum and more panache than me and my Awful Father and my Unspeakable Grandsire all rolled up in one. But eugenically speaking, he just doesn't cut the mustard. And that's all those hinterlanders think about: strong genes, more kids, population growth to keep us ahead of the Firvulag horde. No ... we've got to be realistic. If Aiken survives the High, he'll go after Nodonn in the Encounters. And if he should win, the whole damn company'11 accept the kid as Battlemaster by acclamation. Then my ass'll be on the line."

  "Nodonn will defeat Aiken Drum," the Queen declared. "He's your designated heir. If necessary, he can invoke ancient privilege and use the Sword!"

  But then Thagdal had to admit to her that Aiken had the Spear.

  For a long time after that they sat together hand in hand, each contemplating the end apart from the other, and finally, with some measure of serenity, admitting that it might be more bearable if shared.

  ***

  The balloon riders decided to camp on the fjord, at least until the next day. Felice assured Sukey that it would be impossible for any hostile observer to penetrate her illusionary defenses. She further invited Sukey to enter her mind and discover something of the wonders newly wrought there. All that Sukey knew of the ring-hockey player had come second-hand from Stein. (This poor little child with the big brown eyes and tattered chemise— this was the ball-breaking bull dyke Stein knew back at the auberge?) Any misgivings Sukey might have entertained were dispelled by the aura of goodwill and kindly power shining from Felice's mind.

  Resting for a day [thought Sukey] would give them time to assess one another, get cleaned up, and make rational decisions about where to go from here. Most especially, it would provide the opportunity for that delicate operation, the removal of Stein's torc.

  The double-lever steel cutters were in one of the gondola lockers.

  "I'll be able then to complete most of his mind-healing myself, even with his torc off." Shyness made Sukey hesitate before explaining to Felice. "There are certain mental lesions that Elizabeth couldn't mend, you see. Very old injuries made worse by the torc. But their cure is not so much a matter of redactive skill as one of ... love."

  Felice gave a light laugh. "Stein's a fortunate fellow! If you like, I'll work the cutter so you'll be free to concentrate on his mind. If there's a need, I can coerce him into quiet as well."

  Sukey nodded. The two of them bent over Stein, who lay with eyes wide open on the wiry turf. At the severing, the giant cried out. But the caregiving mind was there with her soul-mortar and balm, guiding his psychoenergies into the channels prepared by Elizabeth. There would be no serious postaddictive trauma for Stein. The anomalous brain-circuitry of the torc and all trace of its insult melted away before Sukey's healing. More whole than he had ever been, Stein Oleson lived.

  "He'll do for now," Sukey said. "I'll wake him."

  Stein's eyes saw her. For a long time they saw nothing else.

  Felice left them together and went to study the fjord landscape, the porous blocks of lava and masses of unconsolidated ash and scoria supporting meager vegetation. It was not until hours later—long after Felice had washed their clothes, and Sukey had collapsed in a brief reactionary episode, and Stein had taken his turn as comforter—that Felice began to speak in a matter-of-fact way about her plan for genocide.

  They were sitting around a little fire in the shades of evening. The huntress had shown casual power by zapping a lagomorphic creature resembling a short-eared jackrabbit. They had grilled it for supper, and with the sweet biocake from the balloon rations they had had tangy wild grapes. Stein and Sukey, enjoying digestion and sweet peace, sat cradled in each other's arms not really hearing what Felice said to them.

  "...and the torc factory was essentially unharmed by our attack, so the third phase of Madame Guderian's great scheme remains unfulfilled. Humanity can still be enslaved by the torcs. It doesn't matter that the time-gate's closed. Don't you see? All the Tanu have to do is rescind their ban on human-human reproduction, and in time the pool of potential slaves will be bigger than ever. And don't think that only torced humans cooperate with the exotics! You should have seen the bareneck human finks blubbering to go home after we blasted Finiah. Those stupid pathetickers preferred life under the Tanu!"

  Stein said to Sukey, "We could go to Bordeaux. Where Richard and me figured the wine-loving exiles would live. There could be free people there, like Madame Guderian's bunch. Only not making war with iron weapons. Just living easy. Sorta Robin-Hooding it. I could build us a nice cabin—"

  Felice interrupted. "You haven't been listening to me."

  "Sure I have, Felice. You could stay with us. Both Sukey and me owe you. So do all the human beings in Exile. What you and the others did—"

  "We weren't able to finish the job, Steinie. As long as that torc factory is intact, no bareneck human is safe from slavery. The Tanu will be Hunting for us as long as they're top dogs in Exile. And remember that human traitors wearing torcs aren't poisoned by iron. They're no more vulnerable to it than ordinary bareneck folks are. All the Flying Hunt has to do is spot concealed human settlements from the air, then send in parties of forced humans to do the dirty work."

  "Aw, hell. There's gotta be someplace wild enough to be safe. Not all that many of the Tanu can fly. The big guns like Nodonn'll be up north where Guderian stirred up the hornet's nest—not in Bordeaux. That's a good spot. Richard and me were worried about ordinary human outlaws in the Pliocene. You grab? We wanted to pick a secure site for our base of operations. So we noodled with one of the geology boffins at the auberge and came up with Bordeaux. It has big tidal swamps with islands of good high land. Richard figured the place'd be perfect."

  "Do you know where Richard is now?" Felice's smile was dreamy. "I do. I can farsense him easily with my new power. He's in a broken-down exotic flyer in a parking orbit forty-nine thousand kloms out, going around and around the world with the dead body of his lady. He looks at the environmental readout every now and then and laughs. And it is pretty funny, when you think of his costume and all. Because the oxygen is nearly all used up."

  Sukey, shocked to wakefulness, broke from Stein's clasp. "Oh, no! Felice, how can you—how can you sneer at him in such a heartless way? Richard was your friend!"

  For the first time, Sukey dared to assay a strong redactive probe into the girl. The mental lancet shattered on impervious smoothness. Sukey uttered a soft cry of pain.

  "Don't do that, dear. I'd rather keep my thoughts private until I choose to reveal them. I believe that's a simple courtesy among the metas of the Milieu. Richard is unimportant." And so are you, Re-dactorwife, so take care! "But Stein is important ... to a certain plan of action that I have in mind. I know how to bring about the real solution to all our worries."

  Stein and Sukey stared at her.

  Felice said, "I want to wipe out all of these Tanu bastards once and for all—while they're gathered in one place for the Grand Combat. And as a bonus, we'll get q
uite a few of the Firvulag, too. I never did trust those little triggers and neither did Madame Guderian."

  Stein said, "If you expect me to go along on another invasion of Muriah, don't hold your breath, sister!"

  "Oh, no, Steinie. Nothing like that." Her fingers caressed the hollow of her throat. "I had a golden torc. It made me operant, with wonderful powers. And then I was caught and the Tanu took my torc away and tried to punish me. But their tortures backfired, Steinie. I'm a strange sort of person, you know. The suffering made me fully operant. Without a torc. I'm as good as the metapsychic world shakers of the Galactic Milieu. My PK and creativity are stronger than the powers of any of the Tanu Great Ones."

  "No shit," he drawled. "So buck for Queen of the World at the Combat!"

  Once again, the dreamy smile. "I have a better idea. That's why I need your help ... I want to pop the cork at Gibraltar and let the Atlantic into the Med Basin. Drown the exotics like rats in a barrel. I'll do the heavy blasting, and you'll show me where to put the shots so the walls come tumbling down."

  The Viking gave an involuntary shout of exultation. "And Pharaoh's army got drownded? Sweet Christ!"

  "Stein!" wailed Sukey.

  "I thought it might appeal to you," Felice said smugly.

  "No!" Sukey cried.

  He took her in his arms again. "Don't be silly, babe. What d'you take me for? There's human beings in Muriah! Elizabeth and Raimo. And Amerie and those two guys that got caught with her. And even the Fancy Pants Kid! He needs a swift boot, all right—but not drowning."

  Felice said, "Aiken Drum is almost certain to beat Nodonn in the Grand Combat and become king. Do you think he'll close down the torc factory? Or free the slaves and deprive himself of all those trusty human subjects? Don't make me laugh!"

  "Dammit—the others!"

  "Amerie and Peo and Basil were terribly wounded. They're as good as dead. The only way they could survive would be if the Tanu put them into Skin. And why should the exotics do that? They plan to roast them alive in the life-offering in four days' time."

  "Raimo ... Bryan," Stein protested.

  Felice laughed. "They're goners, too. Let's say they loved and lived. As for Elizabeth ... she could save herself if she wanted to."

  Stein's brows lowered in truculence. "You gotta give her fair warning. She helped Sukey shrink me. She gave us her balloon."

  The little athlete waved one hand in dismissal. "All right. A farspoken warning once the thing is in train and she can't do anything to stop me."

  "Stein, you can't!" Sukey cried. "Felice is—inhuman!"

  "Oh, yes," the girl agreed. She stirred the fire with a long stick. The tepee structure of burning pine branches collapsed in an eruption of orange sparks. "But so are the Tanu and Firvulag inhuman! If I let in the sea, the Tanu will be virtually wiped out and the Firvulag reduced to a manageable small population. Free human beings will still have to fight against the torc wearers that remain in the mainland cities. But with the exotic masters and the torc factory gone, at least we'll have a chance. You'll have a chance."

  Not looking at his wife, Stein said, "Sukey—she's right."

  "Steinie, what about all the humans in Muriah who'll be drowned?"

  He scowled. "All of 'em that I had anything to do with were Tanu-loyal to the toenails."

  "But Felice is talking about the murder of nearly a hundred thousand living persons! You can't help her, Stein! Not if ... I mean anything to you. Felice is insane! Culluket had her for a week. That's enough to—" She broke off, biting her lip.

  Felice was unruffled. "He tortured you, too, Sukey. And you didn't go mad. Did she tell you about that, Stein? About the interrogation ordered by the Queen? Don't you want to get back at the people who tortured Sukey?"

  "Stein knows all about what Culluket did," Sukey cried. Sudden fear blazed up. But Stein didn't know about—

  "And don't you want revenge on Thagdal, Steinie?"

  Puzzled, he said, "On the King? But why? He was always a pretty good old buffer. A real sport on the Delbaeth Quest."

  "Felice, don't!" Sukey pleaded. "Don't!"

  "Sukey didn't tell you what happened before her interrogation, though—did she, Stein. She didn't want you to do something foolish and get yourself killed by the Tanu ... or by anybody else. Ask Sukey how the Queen found out about the sabotage party."

  "Don't listen to her, Stein! She's lying!"

  "Am I lying, Sukey? I can see the whole thing, right there in your memory bank. Too bad Stein's torc is off, or I could relay it right to him. You've tried to wall off that memory. But I can read it. Do you know that you've been letting it leak? Something in your sneaky little subconscious let just the smallest bit of the memory seep out for Stein to catch! You wanted him to catch it. And he did, too. Just a suspicion. A need to ... blame."

  "Please," Sukey whispered. "Don't do this to him."

  "Blame?" the Viking's forehead wrinkled. "How could I blame Sukey for betraying the invasion? I never should've told her anything about it. Even Aik warned me not to. I blame myself—blame him, too, for putting—"

  "Ass!" Felice hissed. "Not blame for that. For the baby."

  Sukey hid her face on Stein's chest. His arms dropped away from her body. He seemed to see something deep in the dying campfire. Resin in a burning brand popped. Sukey's sobs were quiet, hopeless.

  "King Thagdal," Stein said at last. "In spite of what Aiken and Mayvar and Dionket promised. He had Sukey."

  "When she was already pregnant with your child. And some women—they have to be careful in the first weeks. Before the little embryo is latched on tight. So now you know who to blame."

  Big arms came up, enfolding the shuddering form. Stein did not look at Felice nor at his wife. He watched the flames. "We'll have to do a recon from the air. Surface, too, maybe. Can you make the balloon go any direction you want?"

  "Of course."

  "Tomorrow, then." He repeated: "Tomorrow. Early."

  ***

  Elizabeth returned to the room without doors.

  Tliere was nowhere else to go unless she was willing to wait passively in Muriah until the Host finally deciphered her personal snuffsequence and finished her off. Since the escape of the balloon, they had had a dozen top-line farsensors locked onto her, so there was no possibility of her slipping away from Aven by ordinary means. And the Shipspouse had declared, with every evidence of sincere regret, that she was incompetent to teleport her to safety. It was a pity, Brede had lamented, that Elizabeth herself did not possess more PK! For a very short time, Elizabeth had believed the exotic woman's protestations.

  But then the sly Two-Faced One had given herself away. Her great racial vision—her foresight—if only Elizabeth would help her to make the last clarification! There was a role to be played by one of them, or both ... and if they studied in Unity, they would surely discover the truth.

  Elizabeth would have fled Brede's room—and Dionket had offered her sanctuary in his conspirators' hideout up in the Mount of Heroes. But she knew that even the natural shielding of the rock was insufficient to shut out the hostile ones. Nodonn now coordinated more than two hundred of them with growing sophistication. If any of them happened to discover that one pattern of assault, and launched it while she was asleep, she would never awaken.

  Only in the room without doors was she safe from them. As for Brede ... there was a way to be rid of her importunities as well. Away, false Unity. Away, seductive two-in-one with your cheating prolepsis that led only to another using. Elizabeth would accept no comfort if the price was responsibility. Not in a situation so hopelessly barbaric, so alien to her human metapsychic nature. True human beings would always be defeated in this Exile that was controlled by exotic races. And Elizabeth was too weary and heartsick to condemn herself to a wait of six million years.

  The mind-voice of Brede kept calling: We need you! All three races do! Only look and see how it might be. Look and take comfort.

  I will not look. I will not be use
d. You tricked me once to attain full operancy, to become adept. And not for the sake of your people, as you said, but to gain access to me. To be able to reach me with your temptation, O well-named Two-Face. But I will not be your savior, exotic. Such a role cannot be coerced. You have no comfort for me. My comfort is six million years distant and this Pliocene theosphere is inhuman and untempered by incarnation. So let me alone. Let me alone...

  Cocooned in the old fire, Elizabeth drifted away. Brede's calls became fainter and fainter, finally dwindling into silence.

  5

  "THE STRAIT was only about twenty-five kloms across in our time," Stein told Felice. "And that was after six million years of scouring by ocean currents. You won't be able to blast a gap anything like that wide, you know."

  The two of them leaned over the rail of the gondola. The red balloon, held motionless by the girl's PK, was poised 300 meters above the crest of the Gibraltar Isthmus. The heights were rounded by erosion. Cedar trees grew in the western downslope valleys. There were dunes and rippling grassy hillocks on the Atlantic side of the landbridge, but on the Mediterranean flank the isthmus was barren, falling off in an awesome escarpment with sharp buttresses and a tumble of great shattered blocks at the foot, below which were smoother sediments dipping to the Alboran Basin.

  Felice said, "The terrain-clearance readout and altimeter put that Gib crest at only two-sixty-eight. If you're right about the isthmus being riddled with caves like a Swiss cheese, I should be able to rupture it. Looks to me like it's overdue to crumble from natural causes. And that eastern dropoff goes way below sea level."

  "We could see Gibraltar from my satellite," Sukey said. She smiled into the blue, cloudless sky. "The place where Europe kisses Africa, we called it! We were very sentimental about Earth."

  Felice ignored her. "Where would be the best place for my first zap, Steinie? Don't worry about the shockwave hitting the balloon. I'll spin a big bubble-shield around us. How about if I blast that little headland sticking out?"

  "Hold it, dummy!" he exclaimed. "You want a real tidal wave? Or just a slow-creeping thing like a friggerty filling bathtub that gives 'em plenty of time to make a getaway?"