Making History
Page 46
“I said we could do both.”
“Yes. And we should have. Well, we’ll have some time, until they learn to build those terrible weapons. I still don’t understand why this man Lawton destroyed his own manufactory, though.”
“It’s obvious, now that we know who was working against us,” the vizier said. “The Spanish wanted to cause a rift between us and the English, so that if they went to war with us the English wouldn’t help us, wouldn’t jump at the chance to fight against their old enemy Spain. And when that didn’t work, when the English sent people here to find out what went wrong, they were able to send along their own man, someone who could spy for them.”
“Well,” the caliph said. He clapped his hands. “It’s time we got to work. I want to know how that man got past the homunculi at the Hall of Records. They’re supposed to protect us against spies like him. You, Tip–is that your name? Take the homunculi to the workshop and start looking into it. And I think we’ll have to buy our own homunculi from Japan, see what their engines look like.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tip said. She stood and bowed, then hurried away.
Ibn Suleiman was waiting for her outside the door. “What happened?” he asked. “They wouldn’t let me inside, and you were there for so long . . . .”
She told him what had happened with Lawton and the stolen papers, speaking so rapidly that several times he had to stop her and ask her to repeat herself.
“He called someone on a speaking tube, I bet, Lawton did, to tell them when to come and pick up the papers he stole –”
Ibn Suleiman was no longer listening. “He stole plans to make weapons, you said?” he asked. “And gave them to Spain?”
Tip nodded.
“They’ve wanted to conquer us for a long time,” Ibn Suleiman said. “Nine hundred years, almost, ever since we first came here.” He shook his head. “There’s going to be war, I’m afraid. And this time, with all their weapons and money, they might win. They can buy mercenaries as easily as they bought knowledge. And if Japan comes in on their side–”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. We hear stories from people who’ve escaped from Léon, that they torture people, or burn them at the stake if they don’t convert to Christianity.”
“So? You’ll be Christian then. What difference does it make?”
He looked at her, and for the first time she understood that he was frightened. She had never seen him afraid of anything, and it frightened her as well. “Well, it makes a difference to us,” he said.
“But why?” Tip said, feeling the familiar frustration whenever she didn’t understand something. “Why do you want to keep worshipping your moon god?”
“What? Where did you hear that? We pray to Allah, the one God, the same as you Christians do.”
Tip hadn’t worshipped anything in a long time, and she didn’t think she believed in God. But Ibn Suleiman wasn’t finished. “But it’s more than just worship,” he said. “It’s–it’s how we are here, our way of life. I told you. They’ll burn our books, and then our people too, those who don’t agree with them, Muslims and Jews –”
“What’s a Jew?” Tip asked.
Ibn Suleiman looked at her in amazement. “They’re people of another religion, another way of worshipping God. Do you truly have no Jews in England?”
Tip sighed with relief. From the talk of the man in the English delegation she had imagined some kind of monster, men eight feet tall, with one horn and one eye.
Ibn Suleiman seemed to realize he had frightened her, though not the reason for it. “Don’t worry–you’ll be long gone by the time war starts. Your queen will order you back to England.”
“I ain’t going,” Tip said. “There’s things I have to learn here.”
Ibn Suleiman shook his head. “It’ll be far too dangerous. They’ll want every man to fight, probably.”
“I don’t care. They can’t make me go back. I’ll hide somewhere–I’m good at hiding.”
“What if Spain wins this war? They’ll close down all our universities–you won’t learn anything then.”
“I don’t care,” she said again.
“Well.” Ibn Suleiman stopped, then seemed to force himself to go on. “You can stay with us, I suppose, with my wife and me. We’ve never had children–I think I told you that.”
“I can?” she asked. “Really?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”
Would he still take her if he knew she didn’t believe in his religion, or any religion? And she had another confession to make, one far more important. “I–well, I ain’t what I look like. I’m a girl. My name’s Catherine.”
Ibn Suleiman recoiled. She saw it, and somewhere inside her she recoiled too, against herself, against trusting someone when so many lessons had taught her not to . . . .
“I should not have touched you, then,” Ibn Suleiman said, looking away from her. “Men should not touch women before prayer.”
She thought of the many times their hands had brushed, reaching for something. She said nothing.
“And our Prophet, peace be upon him, taught us that women should be modest. They should ‘cast down their eyes, and guard their appetites . . . .’”
“Is that what you want me to do? Cast down my eyes? How could I see to work then?”
“I don’t know. You’re not–you aren’t like any woman I’ve ever met.”
“What about that woman you told me about? The one you knew at the university?”
“She was brilliant, though.”
“I’m brilliant too.”
Ibn Suleiman laughed. “She did say that there would be more like her. That a country so busy with new inventions could not afford to ignore half the minds within it.”
He fell silent. She knew his silences by now; he was thinking, working out a knotty problem.
“Well,” he said finally. “The caliph wants us to study the homunculi outside the Hall of Records, is that what you told me? Let’s go have a look.”
What did that mean? Did he still want to adopt her? She would not go back to England, though. She would stay here and learn what she could, she would make him see how clever she was. “Only the men of understanding are mindful,” he had said, and he understood more than anyone she had ever met.
“All right,” she said, and they walked down the hallway together.
A reprint anthology of this sort relies most of all on the talent and generosity of the writers who have published these stories first in magazines and anthologies and now are willing to allow this editor to reprint their work. So I owe a great deal of thanks to (in order of their appearance in the book) Karen Joy Fowler, Maureen McHugh, Michael Swanwick and Eileen Gunn, Gregory Benford, Kathleen Goonan, Louise Marley, Ben Loory, Alan Smale, Harry Turtledove, Nisi Shawl, Walter Jon Williams, Rich Larson, Michaela Roessner, Nicholas DiChario, Michael Bishop, Sheila Finch and Lisa Goldstein. Their work enriches and entertains us all.
The process of taking a book from idea to publication relies on a talented group of professionals who handle matters of copy editing, contracts, design of cover and content, ebook and print production, distribution, promotion and more. In all cases, I have relied on the talented team at New Word City Publishing to bring this book to life. I am especially appreciative of the hard work and sharp eyes of Publisher Donna Carpenter LeBaron and the design talents of Art Director Matthew Pollock. My agent, Bob Diforio of the D4EO Literary Agency, was the one who put me together with the New Word City team and I am deeply appreciative of his outstanding efforts in this book and for many others. Finally, my favorite finance professor, Robin Wilber, is also my wife. Her knowledge, patience, and support in this effort and many other writing projects is what keeps me going. I am delighted to have been a part of this team effort from all concerned. Any errors of fact in the introductory material and any copy editing errors in the book are solely mine.
“Game Night at the Fox and Goose,” by Karen Joy Fowler, f
irst published in Interzone #29, May/June 1989. © 1989 by Karen Joy Fowler. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“The Lincoln Train,” by Maureen McHugh, first published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, April 1995. © 1995 by Maureen McHugh. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Zeppelin City,” by Michael Swanwick and Eileen Gunn, © Michael Swanwick and Eileen Gunn, 2009. First published in Tor.com, October 6, 2009. Reprinted with the permission of the authors.
“Manassas Again,” by Gregory Benford, © 1991 by Abbenford Associates. First published in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, October 1991. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Kamehameha’s Bones,” by Kathleen Goonan. © 1993 by Kathleen Goonan. First published in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, September 1993. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“P Dolce,” by Louise Marley. © 2009 by Louise Marley. First published in Fast Forward: Future Fiction from the Cutting Edge: 1 (Pyr, 2009). Reprinted with permission of the author.
“A Clash of Eagles,” by Alan Smale. © 2008 and 2018 by Alan Smale. First published in Panverse Two, edited by Dario Ciriello, 2010. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“The House that George Built,” by Harry Turtledove. © 2009 by Harry Turtledove. First published in Tor.com, June 23, 2009. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Something Real,” by Rick Wilber. © 2012 by Rick Wilber. First published in Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine, April/May 2012. Reprinted with permission of the author.
"Vulcanization,” by Nisi Shawl. © 2016 by Nisi Shawl. First published in Nightmare magazine, January 2016. Reprinted with permission of the author.
"James. K. Polk,” by Ben Loory. © 2013 by Ben Loory. First published in Melville House: Their Peculiar Ambitions: Forty-four Stories about Our Forty-Four Presidents. Reprinted with permission of Penguin Books.
“Foreign Devils,” by Walter Jon Williams. © 1996 by Walter Jon Williams. First published in Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine, January 1996. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Every So Often” by Rich Larson. © 2011 by Rich Larson. First published in Birdville Magazine, April 2011. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” by Michaela Roessner. © 2008 by Michaela Roessner. First published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, January 2008. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“The Winterberry,” by Nicholas DiChario. © 1992 by Nicholas DiChario. First published in Alternate Kennedys, edited by Mike Resnick (Tor Books, 1992). Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Miriam,” by Michael Bishop as Nona Tyent. © 2007 by Michael Bishop. First published in A Cross of Centuries: Twenty-five Imaginative Tales About the Christ (Carroll & Graf, May 2007). Reprinted with permission of the author.
“If There be Cause,” by Sheila Finch. © 1992 by Sheila Finch. First published in Amazing Stories, February 1992. Reprinted with permission of the author.
“Paradise is a Walled Garden,” by Lisa Goldstein. © 2011 by Lisa Goldstein. First published in Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine, August 2011. Reprinted with permission of the author.
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