The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers

by Alan Dean Foster

  September didn’t have to translate his request. Unbidden, Fahdig had invited them to accompany him to the monastery for the Brotherhood’s ruling.

  “I hope they keep the haggling to a minimum,” September grumbled undiplomatically in Trannish. “I, at least, am still in a hurry.”

  “The decision-making should take but a heartbeat of time, gentlesir,” replied Fahdig. “Only long enough for the Prior to satisfy himself as to your reason. Until then you are guests. The harbor is yours.”

  “Before we start unpacking,” pressed September, “how long before the Brotherhood and your Prior can take action on our request?”

  “Do but follow me and it shall be seen to as soon as we arrive.”

  “Well, that’s fine! Just fine.” The big man turned, cupped hands to mouth.

  “Hey, du Kane! Hellespont du Kane!”

  The slim figure of the financier appeared at the railing of the raft.

  “Yes, Mr. September?”

  The big man switched to Terranglo again. “The lad, Hunnar, and I are going for a hike with his beardship, here! Seems we’ve run across a bunch of hermetic scholars! Harmless enough. We’ve got temporary permission to park here and make repairs, but we’ve got to make the walk-up to satisfy the local high mucky-muck we’re reasonable … whatever that means. Tell Ta-hoding to get cracking on his work and to keep an eye on the monastery … that’s what they call it. If he doesn’t see my coat waving in the next hour he can go ahead and work full speed. Got that?”

  “I rarely misconstrue any information consigned to my care, Mr. September. Rest assured that I shall convey the message to the captain with the utmost precision. What if you should be detected gesticulating with your garments?”

  “Then he’s to raise sail and get the hell out of here!” September snorted and turned to their guide, speaking in Trannish.

  “All right, friend Fahdig, let’s go meet your Brotherhood.”

  Ethan was quite sure that heights held no terror for him. He’d sipped cocktails on transparent balconies ninety stories above steaming swampland.

  However, he’d been completely enclosed in a comfortable tower suite at the time. It was rather different mounting hundreds of steps with a sheer drop of hundreds of meters on your right, then on your left. Almost unconsciously he edged away until he was walking with a decided preference for the section of stairway nearest the mountainside.

  The stairs themselves had been cut from the bare rock, an agonizing task that probably took more years than he cared to speculate at. At least it was broad enough for several men or tran to walk side by side. So he didn’t feel cramped. There was also a wide, if low, stone railing on the cliffside.

  But as the raft, which now seemed to sit directly below them, and the harbor grew smaller and smaller, so did his stomach.

  Halfway up he found himself beginning to pant. September still looked fresh, but Sir Hunnar was gritting his teeth at the pain shooting through his thighs and calves. The tran were not constructed for steady climbing. Fahdig, on the other hand, was clearly inured to the pain.

  There was no guard at the simple, solemn archway which framed the entrance to the monastery. The door was of unadorned wood, through which Fahdig led them.

  Ethan spared a last glance over the side of the stairway. They were now nearly five hundred meters above the harbor. The raft was a child’s toy resting on a plate of waxen crystal.

  Then he was through the door and standing in a darkish, tomb-like hallway. Lamps glowed along the walls even though it was bright day outside.

  “Kind of a gloomy atmosphere you fellas take to,” said September as they strolled down the hall.

  “We are in the lower levels of the monastery,” their guide informed them. “As we go higher it will become lighter. Windows here are neither necessary nor would they be structurally sound.”

  Fahdig was as good as his word. They soon found themselves walking through well-lit, high-beamed rooms and halls. Occasionally they encountered another of the Brotherhood, some older, some younger than their guide. A few were mere cubs. They reacted to the presence of the humans with a lot more open surprise than had Fahdig. A few stopped to stare after them long after they’d passed by.

  “I didn’t see an ice-path outside,” September said to Hunnar. “On the stairway.”

  “I am not surprised, friend Skua. There are limits to any tran’s skill with dan and chiv. Coupled with a tricky breeze and sharp turns, such a steep descent would tax the skill of the most accomplished soldier. Nay, even of a Dancer.”

  “I thought so. But there could be other reasons why they’ve dispensed with it Aesthetic, maybe, or ascetic.”

  “That is possible,” the knight agreed. “It may be considered virtuous among them to move only on foot.”

  They hadn’t been walking too long before Fahdig bade them wait outside an iron-banded door. He disappeared within, reappeared several moments later.

  “The Prior will see you now.” They followed him in.

  Ethan didn’t know what to expect—another throne room, perhaps, like Kurdagh-Vlata’s. But the room they entered was plainly furnished, without being spartan. Only the wide, richly carved and polished table hinted at wealth of any kind. A few chairs completed the alcove’s furnishings.

  They were obviously in one of the upper levels of the monastery now. Light poured in through windows set in the eastern and southern walls. But most of the illumination came from the skylight, another first for Tran-ky-ky.

  The startling feature, however, was the walls. From floor to ceiling on all sides, save the one they’d entered from, the walls were solid with shelves, crammed row upon row with meticulously kept, neatly aligned books.

  He’d encountered tough, long-wearing paper of pika-pina fiber in Wannome, but very little. The Sofoldians seemed to prefer vellum and parchment for writing, since the fibrous paper was difficult to write on without constant blotting.

  Obviously the Brotherhood had solved that problem. Or else it had been solved for them, because the open books on the table were filled with neither parchment nor vellum.

  He whispered to September. “We’d better reconsider before bringing Williams or Eer-Meesach up here. We might never drag them away.”

  “Huh!” September gave the shelves a quick survey, “Wonder if they just collect and store them, or if they really bother to read any.”

  The Prior himself turned out to be a placid-looking old tran. He sported a beard much longer than Hunnar’s. His mane was pure white and his manner pleasant and relaxed. If he was shocked by Ethan and September’s appearance he was too courteous to show it.

  He also retained one of the ubiquitous staves. It rested against the table.

  “You’ll forgive my not rising to greet you, gentlesirs. I am not in the best of health today.”

  “We sorrow for you and wish your Priorship to recover vibrant as the winter wind,” Hunnar said smoothly.

  The oldster smiled a little. “Fahdig has told me of your magnificent ship and your request to remain with us for a few days. And of your haste.”

  “Especially our haste,” put in September. “Now, about this vote or whatever …” The Prior waved him down.

  “It will not be necessary to consult the Brotherhood, to draw them from their daily labors on so simple a matter. You may remain as long as you wish. Our fare here at Evonin-ta-ban is simple but nourishing. Do us the honor of taking evening meal with us and enjoying our hospitality for a night!”

  Hunnar nodded before either of the humans could speak, so Ethan assumed the knight anticipated the food’s being edible, if not up to the level of the royal chefs.

  “Retire now, gentlesirs, and leave me to rest. We will talk more tonight, of your plans and needs and journey.”

  They walked out.

  “Thanks, Fahdig,” said Ethan sincerely, “for your help in speeding things through for us.”

  “Your thanks are welcome but ill-directed, gentlesir. No one ‘speeds�
� anything past the Prior. I merely repeated to him what you told me. He decided in your favor by himself.”

  “You’d already agreed to let us stay the day,” declared September. “What if he’d overridden that decision and told us to leave immediately?”

  Fahdig looked shocked. “He would not do that! Not even the Prior will counter a decision previously reached by a Brother. We live by reason and logic here. This trust in one another’s rationality is an integral part of the Brotherhood.”

  “Yeah, sure. But let’s say he had … differed severely with your evaluation of the situation.”

  “Why then,” said Fahdig, obviously struggling with an unfamiliar concept, “it would be good manners for me to withdraw my recommendation.”

  “The Prior keeps a very impressive library,” put in Ethan to change the subject.

  “Oh, that was not the Prior’s library.” Their guide seemed amused. “Twas merely the room in which he is studying today. There are a great many similar rooms in the monastery. All are filled with histories, studies, and scientific papers accumulated over thousands of years.”

  “I see,” Ethan murmured. “There are two men with us of identical sentiment with the Brotherhood. One of your kind and one of mine.”

  “Their profession makes them thrice welcome, then,” said Fahdig.

  “Yes. What I want to know is, would it be possible for them to have a look through your libraries? They’d both be forever grateful.”

  “Tis not often done with outsiders, but then few express the desire to share of our knowledge. Peasants! Most who stop at the monastery are of lower lifes, merchants and dealers with goods to barter.”

  “I understand perfectly,” replied Ethan with a straight face.

  Fahdig continued more cheerfully. “But if these companions of yours are true scholars, I am sure the Brotherhood would be pleased to have them enjoy the results of many years’ labor. Yes, consider it agreed!”

  “Thank you, Fahdig. I’m sure they’ll be demonstrably grateful.”

  “If knowledge is spread,” intoned their guide a bit pompously, “then that is thanks enough, for it holds back the encroachment of the Dark One!”

  “Oh, absolutely,” agreed Ethan.

  Fahdig accompanied them to the bottom of the switchbacks and said he would meet them there an hour before the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

  Hunnar formally accepted the Prior’s invitation and they started back to the raft.

  Ta-hoding’s anxious face conveyed more questions than a thousand words.

  “Everything is fine, captain,” said September. “This place is run by a crowd of desiccated old bookworms. Didn’t see a spear or bow in the whole mausoleum. We’ve got permission to use the harbor for as long as we need. They won’t give us any trouble … Oh, one other thing.” He paused. “We’ve been invited to supper.”

  Ta-hoding raised his eyes meaningfully. “Up there?”

  “Did you think it was going to be catered?”

  “Then,” the captain replied, “you will extend my regrets to our hosts for my absence. I must decline … until you return to us with another sky-boat. Your pardon.” He shuffled off and began bawling out a crewman who’d mistied a knot.

  Their report drew a mixed reaction from the others. Balavere in particular found their isolated hosts too polite for his liking. But Hunnar reminded the General that the small farming and hunting villages they’d passed had seemed equally open and unmilitary. Clearly this area was not visited by such as the Horde.

  “We’ve also been extended the services of the monastery for this night, at least,” he added. Ethan expressed his own pleasure at the chance to sleep in a real bed for a change. One that did not rock with the wind.

  Hellespont du Kane professed indifference, but Colette was plainly as excited by the offer as Ethan. Even if it meant a five-hundred-meter ascent.

  When they received the news about the libraries, of course, there was no holding the two wizards, just as Ethan had predicted. In fact, they insisted on leaving immediately and making their own way to the top.

  Hunnar argued mildly that arriving early might be construed as a breach of local etiquette. But Ethan and September disagreed, citing the unfailing kindness and open helpfulness of the Prior and Fahdig. Without waiting for an official decision, both Eer-Meesach and Williams vanished up the nearest hatchway.

  “That’s the last we’ll see of those two for a while,” said Budjir gruffly. Ethan was surprised. Rarely did either of the squires offer an unsolicited comment.

  “Why do you say that, Budjir?”

  “I do not understand those two,” he replied. “Their constant chatter hurts my head.”

  “Don’t let it bother you, Budjir,” said September jovially, clapping the huge tran on the shoulder. “Sometimes I find myself in complete agreement with you. Now a tall tankard of reedle and a shapely female, eh?”

  The squire grinned and the slitted pupils focused fondly on something in the far distance.

  Ethan observed this comradely by-play and muttered, “Communication … it’s wonderful,” and turned to go to his own cabin to prepare himself for the overnight stay.

  Work on the repairs proceeded steadily and at a relaxed pace. There was no need to rush the workmen. This time they could make a decent job of the foremast, too. And while the temporary repairs on the fore port runner had held up better than anyone had a right to expect, Ta-hoding was relieved at the chance to fix it properly.

  Timbers and bracing had been set up beneath the bow and the metalworkers were already beginning to rebolt the recalcitrant skate to the raft hull.

  That would be finished by the time it grew too dark to work. The broken spars, foremast, and bowsprit could be fixed tomorrow. On the open ice in an average wind the work would have taken at least a week. In the protective shadow of the towering crags they could finish the same task in two days.

  The humans were not alone in their desire to experience a soft, stable bed. Most of the crew would have gone along too. But Hunnar and Ethan remembered the Prior’s comments about his “simple but nourishing fare.” Despite the old scholar’s obvious willingness to share all, there was no need to overdo their welcome.

  So the overnight party consisted of the little band of humans, Hunnar and his two squires, and Elfa. The two wizards were already on their way up. Still suffering from his arrow wound, General Balavere elected to remain on board.

  Fahdig awaited them at the cliff base. His clothing was the same white robe, but he carried a lamp in case, as he put it, “some among you should find the climb excessively strenuous and wish to turn back with some light.”

  As it turned out, everyone finished the ascent. Colette’s fear of the black abyss to one side was openly evident. Ethan felt no shame in joining her in hugging the mountainside.

  Much to everyone’s distraction, Elfa insisted on running and skipping alongside the inadequate stone railing, not to mention leaning over the edge and pointing out this or that unusual feature in the depths below.

  Once, laughing, she even climbed onto the rail itself. She walked along the narrow stone coping, teetering on the lip of the drop. Ethan couldn’t watch her. It didn’t go on for long, because Hunnar threatened to tie her wrists to her ankles and drag her the rest of the way up.

  She grumbled, but climbed down—to everyone’s immense relief.

  Once they’d passed through the first dark hallway, Fahdig led them upwards via a different route than the one they’d first traversed. They passed a long, comfortable-looking room and he indicated the beds neatly lined against both walls inside.

  “For tonight,” he informed them unnecessarily.

  There was no wall fireplace. Instead, a central pit was sunk into the center of the floor and filled with logs and brash. Just above the pit a large wooden funnel lined with copper narrowed into a long black pipe that disappeared into the ceiling.

  In one respect, then, these isolated scholars were ahead of the b
usy commercial port of Wannome. They’d developed a rudimentary form of real heating. It was more efficient than a fireplace—provided all the waste particles went up the funnel and not onto one’s bed. Several windows in the east wall would let in the morning light. Lamps and torches were mounted on the walls. With the single door shut it would be very comfortable.

  “Very pleasant-looking dormitory,” complimented September. “Is this how you fellas live?”

  “Oh no,” Fahdig replied. “Each of the Brothers has his own small vestibule. This is a study room.”

  “With beds?”

  “In a gesture of friendship, some among the Brotherhood have given up their beds for the night. They will sleep on pallets. Tis good for the body and the mind, now and then. Tables and chairs normally fill this room. They will return when you have departed.”

  “That’s very considerate of you,” said Ethan. “We’re sorry to put you to so much trouble.”

  “Hospitality is never trouble,” their imperturbable guide replied. “If you will come this way, please.”

  They continued down the hall and went up one more level, where Fahdig motioned them into another room. They seemed to be in one of the highest levels of the monastery. Evening light poured in from the huge skylight that occupied most of the ceiling.

  Ethan wondered if the beautiful skylights had been developed and built by the scholars themselves or if they were a bit of art once known but long forgotten in Wannome. There was no way of telling, and it might not be good manners to ask.

  The table was long and simple. So were the foods that other members of the Brotherhood were setting on it. The Prior sat at the head of the table with several other elderly tran. Williams and Eer-Meesach were there to greet them. The little schoolmaster fairly exploded out of his seat when they entered. He walked straight to Ethan.

  “My dear friend, you have no idea, no idea what a treasure-house this place is! Malmeevyn and I have been overwhelmed by one amazing volume after another. Some of the older books stored here go back literally thousands of years … or so Malmeevyn tells me. There’s much I can’t translate. The books themselves are astonishing. But the amount of pure information and data stored inside … it would take a hundred xenologists years with a good computer just to properly document and catalogue the material the Brotherhood holds.”