The Lantern of God

by John Dalmas

  5. It is important that all the mines explode within a few minutes of each other, so that when some explode, divers will not have time to find and remove others from the remaining ships.

  6. Also, a lot more gunpowder will be needed, and other sources of saltpeter may need to be found.

  * * *

  Reeno gave his notes to Brokols, who read them back aloud. "What did we overlook?" Reeno asked.

  "Probably something," Brokols said. "But let's start with this. What will we use for the casing? Kegs? (He used the Djezian word, with a description, having never heard the Hrummean.) I don't believe I've seen a keg or a barrel in Hrumma."

  They talked for more than another half hour, again with Reeno taking notes. They ended up with another list.

  * * *

  1. Ceramic containers will be used for the mines. The mines must be buoyant enough that a sellsu can swim with one. A light, strong ceramic crock must be developed with a flotation chamber. [Note: Wood suitable for watertight kegs is practically nonexistent in Hrumma, and Hrumma had no shops with equipment and trained labor to make kegs.]

  2. Consider two sullsi working together. They transport the mine underwater. It has two large ear-like brackets at the explosive end. The brackets are attached to the ship with lagscrews. One of the sullsu can carry the lagscrews and wrench in a pouch strapped to one arm, We need to decide quickly on lagscrew specifications so the wrenches can be made.

  3. The fuse must be contained inside the mine. It must provide sufficient delay for the sullsi to get away from the blast zone. [Note: Brokols had seen explosives used underwater to blast holes in rock for bridge footings in Almeon. The blasts had killed large numbers of fish and would no doubt be dangerous to sullsi.] A clockwork within the flotation chamber would seem to be the solution. The clock would activate a spring-driven striker which would fire the charge.

  All the fuses could be set to go off at a given hour. That should give a single team of sullsi plenty of time to emplace at least two mines. Thus 100 sullsi teams—200 sullsi—could mine the whole 200 ships within a few hours in one night, if they don't have an unreasonable distance to swim.

  4. A charge of thirty pounds of gunpowder blowing up against the hull under water, should make a big enough hole, but this needs to be tested. Such a mine, with flotation chamber, need be no larger than, say, a ten-gallon crock.

  5. The clock could be set and started, then installed in the flotation chamber. When the clock is installed, the end of the chamber would then be installed and snugged against a leather gasket by tapping in small dry wooden shims that would swell in the water. The clocks will need to be tested in advance for reasonable accuracy.

  The clocks and the spring-driven strikers are crucial parts of the project. [Note: In Hrumma, most mechanical clocks are driven by suspended weights. Reliable spring-driven clocks are expensive.] There are only two shops in Hrumma that make clock springs. Need to get started at once on obtaining clocks and springs.

  6. Have Amaadio look into another source of saltpeter, as this will take a large amount. Maybe saltpeter can be made with manure from farms, nightsoil wagons, or pit toilets.

  * * *

  "Is that it?" Reeno asked after reading the list aloud.

  Brokols sighed. "I hope so. It's a start at any rate." He leaned back in his chair, looking depressed, disheartened. So much to do in so little time! So many things that could go wrong! So little time for testing, so many assumptions. So much opportunity for failure! He wondered if it was worth starting.

  Reeno read Brokols' emotions and the sense of what lay beneath them. "Let's go for a hike," he said. "Up on the plateau. Run a bit, walk a bit. I've got a bottle of brandy in my bedroll, for when we get back."

  Brokols smiled wryly at him. "The gentleman shows foresight and understanding," he said, and got up. "Let's go."

  * * *

  They ran a good bit and walked more, stopping now and then to admire a marvelous night sky. When they got back, Brokols had destimulated, and after a short drink of brandy went readily to sleep. That night he dreamt unusually coherent dreams, of both success and failure, each with a somehow satisfactory conclusion. He remembered little of them in the morning, except that Panni had been part of them, and Tassi Vermaatio. He felt a lot better.

  Fifty-One

  The water in the Gulf of Seechul was remarkably calm, with only a slight ground swell. Stars strewed the sky and reflected on the oil-smooth water below. Two related packs of sullsi lay floating semi-vertically in one group, digesting, facing a young sellsu who recited the Tale of Zeltis Long Nose, a romance, a favorite, very old. None of the others made a sound. They'd wait till the youthful reciter was done, then discuss his style and delivery. He was free to tell the story any way he pleased, so long as he did not change what happened—the givens, the "facts" of the story. That, and that only, would bring interruption.

  The presentation was interesting, with assonances in most lines, a rather daring effort for a sellsu. Mostly they left such technique to the Vrronnkiess.

  Three protector sullsi, singlemindedly alert, had posted themselves on the packs' perimeter to listen for sarrkas and the rare but frightening rokkas. Rising and falling slowly on the ground swell, the rest were absorbed in the tale, waiting for the part in which Zeltis confronts the great sarrka chief. For the young of the year, it was their first hearing of this, one of many sagas.

  It was no predator or protector that interrupted the saga's spell, but a young serpent swimming up to them on the surface. The mood broken, the teller fell silent, and his audience assumed the ready attitude. The senior pack leader confronted the serpent.

  "Did you not hear the saga teller?" the leader asked severely. The serpents had their own sagas, sung instead of told. It was unheard offer either species to interrupt a telling by the other.

  "Yes. It sounded like a very fine telling; my deepest regrets for interrupting. But I have an urdsent messits for the sullsi. Other packs will be hearing it also. It comes from Sleekit, the sellsu who taught the human, Suliassa, to speak your tongue. You have heard of Sleekit? It was passed on to me, and to all Vrronnkiess, by an old mother named K'sthuump."

  "We have heard of Sleekit. What about him?"

  "Then you've heard of the great death fight whitss the humans of the south expect to have with the big-ssip people. Sleekit returned to the nursery beatses, believing to be called there by the Lord of the Sea."

  "Yes yes." The pack leader was impatient to hear the message, but it would be both futile and discourteous to hurry the serpent.

  The serpent told them what Sleekit and K'sthuump had learned about the big-ship people: That they had butchered the sullsi across the ocean till the survivors had fled, and that they would no doubt do the same here if they won the great killing fight. Then he told them what the humans of the south wanted the sullsi to do. The serpent was young, not yet of breeding age, but had the talent of a saga master, and knew everything about the matter that K'sthuump did. When he was done, he floated quietly.

  The sullsi also floated quietly for a long minute, starlight glinting on sleek wet heads. It seemed to them that they faced the near destruction of their kind unless the big-ship people were defeated.

  They conferred. When they were done, the two packs had given the Almites a new name—the sarrkas people—and ten of their twenty breeding males would turn back to help the humans of the south. The protector sullsi would stay with the pack and its juveniles.

  It seemed to the sullsi that those who went back would soon be living the greatest saga ever, and two of them were saga masters.

  The young serpent, Tssissfu, would travel with them. Tssissfu would stay in touch with K'sthuump, and through K'sthuump with the humans, so the sullsi could be informed as plans developed. Meanwhile they'd head for the islands that formed an inner channel off the coast of Djez Gorrbul.

  Fifty-Two

  The old man wore a robe of stealth-hawk skins, and a wooden mask carved in the likeness of a
stealth hawk's fierce visage. He was the chief shaman of the Innjoka tribe, and recognized as more powerful than any other shaman among its clans. Drums beat a steady resonant meter, but he did not dance, simply sang a song to Hrum in a voice that alternately keened ashrill and droned in the deepest bass.

  Several other Innjoka shamans, including shamans of clans besides the Kinnli Innjakot, stood arrayed behind him to both sides. Vessto Cadriio stood in the place of honor, almost at his right hand, only half a step back. In front of the old man, facing him, was a large crowd of warriors, mostly Kinnli Innjakot but with fighting men of every Innjoka clan and the hostages and cadre of every other tribe.

  When the old man was done singing, the drums stopped too. He looked the crowd over, then despite his age, spoke in a voice that all could hear.

  "Warriors of the Innjoka and the united tribes. Hrum has sent the southerners to you to show you the way Hrum wishes you to fight when you make war on the Djez." He paused for effect. "But you have been obstinate! You have not been willing to change! You are more willing to be killed by the Djez than to learn new ways that would make you greater warriors!"

  His piercing eyes scanned the sullen faces before him.

  "When told to drill with the long spears, to stand against soldiers riding kaabors, many of you refuse, asking, 'What manner of fighting is this? Warriors do not stand still and let others rush at them,' you say. 'Warriors attack!' But the Djez who charge on the backs of kaabors do not care what you prefer! They will be happy to ride their kaabors trampling over you. And they will, unless they are met by rows of men standing firm behind their long spears.

  "And when you are given a shield to use in sword drills, you refuse to use it. You say a warrior doesn't need something to hide behind. That is all right if you would rather die than kill. Otherwise it is the quibbling of a sulky child. You fail to differentiate between a duel and a battle between numbers of men."

  The old shaman stared at the warriors with asperity. "Now Hrum is giving you one more chance. Two great swordsmen will fight before you, one in the old way, one in the new. If you learn nothing from this, Hrum will abandon you as foolish children. He will not travel with you when you go to fight the Djez. If you refuse to accept his gifts to you, of better ways to fight the Djez, there will be no more gifts, and Hrum will turn his back on you."

  Their faces still were surly, but they stood attentive and quiet nonetheless.

  Two men came out of the warriors' lodge then: Eltrienn Cadriio and a warrior named Quick, who was famous among the Innjoka clans for his skill with the sword.

  Before the crowd, the two faced off. On his left arm, Eltrienn carried a stout wooden buckler, two feet in diameter and covered with tight-stretched bullhide. His right hand held a wooden sword. Quick carried a wooden sword in his right hand and a wooden knife in his left.

  They fought for two long minutes, and Quick was quick indeed. Twice Eltrienn was nearly touched by the knife. But the sword strokes he countered nicely with his own sword and shield, and when it was over, he had touched Quick four times, the last one on the ribs. The old shaman called the exhibition finished. The contest had given the warriors something to think about.

  As the two contestants turned to enter the warriors' lodge, a newly arrived decade of Hrummean cavalry galloped into the village. Steel swords raised, they charged the mass of warriors, sheering off at the last moment. Then they stopped their mounts at the edge of the mustering ground and dismounted, having sheathed their swords.

  It was Killed Many who stepped before his warriors this time. "Now," he said, "maybe you can see why we need the long spears, and men who will stand firm with them in lines. If the foreign kaaborwarriors had wanted to, they could have ridden over you, and many of you would have died. But if you'd stood firm behind long spears, the kaaborwarriors would have died instead, or turned away."

  He stopped then, and waited a silent minute before saying any more. "When the first leaves turn, I will lead the united tribes to fight the Djez. Every man who goes with me will have drilled satisfactorily with his weapons. The older men will carry the long spears, to hold off or kill the charging kaabors, for the older warriors are strong and steady but no longer so quick. Many others will carry a sword. And shield! No shield, no sword! Those who will not learn to fight in the new ways, will be left behind."

  He glared around him at the tribesmen, and when he spoke again, it was an angry shout. "Those who will not learn would be liabilities in battle against the Djez! They can stay home and help the women cut firewood while the men go off to fight. Now—" He looked back at the warriors' lodge, and called a name. His two household squads came out—ten men; barbarian squads had five warriors each. "These warriors have drilled with sword and shield until they have mastered them. I invite any other squads to fight them, right now. See how well you do against them without shields."

  Two squads volunteered. The fight lasted brief minutes, refereed by the shamans, and when it was over, more than the shamans could see that the warriors with shields had gotten much the best of it.

  "Now," said Killed Many, and his voice was a growl, "who will go with me to make war on the Djezes?"

  The response started slowly, with scattered men pushing through the others and shouting the name of Killed Many. But it grew quickly to a clamoring mass of fighting men crowding around the Great Chief.

  * * *

  In midafternoon a schooner landed at Agate Bay. Her timing was fortuitous. She unloaded 500 new steel swords. She also unloaded three more logging crews complete with kaabors for skidding logs. Large piles of charcoal were waiting on the wharf, and when the swords had been unloaded, men with wheelbarrows began loading the charcoal into the holds.

  * * *

  The next morning the Cadriio brothers, with Killed Many's principal subchief, rode north on the trail to the Aazhmili lands. Behind them came other prominent Innjoka warriors, the principal shaman, two squads of Killed Many's household warriors, and the decade of Hrummean cavalry. And the cadres from the north who'd been trained in the new ways and would teach them to their people.

  They'd force a march to the Icy River, where the warriors of the northern tribes were gathering, and cajole and coerce until they too accepted the new ways.

  So much to do, Eltrienn thought, and so little time. But so far, he reminded himself, things had gone surprisingly well.

  Fifty-Three

  The schooner Karassia had been one of the largest vessels in the Djezian trade, larger, really, than was often called for. Now King Gamaliiu had closed the port of Haipoor l'Djezzer to Hrummean shipping, and though minor ports in Djez Gorrbul still were open, along with the ports of Djez Seechul of course, trade was down seriously.

  Then, two weeks ago, the Karassia had been caught in a white squall while approaching the firth, driven aground, and the wind had stripped her of canvas and masts, though dropping soon enough that she hadn't broken up. Her owner had had her cargo lightered into harbor, leaving the wreck where she lay for the time.

  With trade what it was, the government had been able to buy her cheaply. Shipwrights had patched her hull, then a salvage barge had dropped anchor hooks on the shelf a hundred yards offshore, and at floodtide, oarsmen rowed the barge to within fifty feet of the derelict's sternpost. A workboat took a line to her, and with it a cable was pulled across. Then eight burly oarsmen at the capstans had winched the barge seaward by the anchor chains, pulling the Karassia off the shoal.

  They tugged her into harbor, where the navy jury-rigged two short spars on her. They'd bear enough canvas to take her down the coast not many miles. Thus rigged, and rocks loaded for ballast, a naval crew had sailed her back out of the firth by the first light of dawn, an hour when few or none would notice and talk. A light sloop trailed her to bring her crew back.

  * * *

  Elver Brokols and Reeno Venreeno had been intensely busy on the submarine mine project the past three weeks. Their days had been long, their nights short. Part of the time
they'd been in the capital and part at Hidden Haven. Juliassa had worked with them, just as long and hard as they, and had ridden most of the courier trips.

  To get manufacturing started, they'd had to finalize certain design features before they felt ready. The cylindrical casings were no thicker than thought necessary for sufficient strength. As designed, they'd hold forty pounds of gunpowder in the charge end if need be, but no more than that. With thirty pounds plus a weight added to approximate the fuse mechanism, the flotation chamber tended to float the mine to the surface, though two sullsi, or one for that matter, could easily hold it down while swimming underwater. Adding a couple of pounds gave neutral flotation. With forty pounds, two sullsi still could manage it easily.

  With this established, several ceramicists began to make casings.

  Meanwhile a clockmaker's shop had undertaken to produce reliable spring-driven clocks and firing mechanisms, and Reeno had assigned a man to test them in every position—rightside up, upside down, and sideways. The designs were successful. Test clocks proved accurate to within five minutes over a ten-hour period—quite good considering they were spring driven. Production was begun, with each day's production tested overnight.