The Magic Labyrinth

by Philip José Farmer

  "Pardon me, Jacques. That does not sound like the type of people Clemens would have on board. He was obsessed, and he did some things which he should not have done to get that boat built. But he isn't, or at least wasn't, one to condone such behavior."

  "In all these years, who knows how he's changed? For one thing, the name of this boat is not what you told me it would be. Instead of the Not For Hire it is Rex Grandissimus."

  "That is strange. That sounds more like a name which King John would pick."

  "From what you tell me of this John, he may have killed Clemens and taken over the boat. Whatever the truth, I want you to meet the boat at the border."

  "Me?"

  "You knew the men who built the boat. I want you to get aboard it at the border. You will find out what the situation is, what kind of people live on it. Also, you will estimate its military potential."

  Hermann looked surprised.

  "Now, Fenikso, you have told me of the story which this giant long-nosed man – Joe Miller? – told Clemens and which Clemens told others. If it be true, there is a great tower in the middle of the sea at the north pole. These men mean to enter it if they can. I think their intent is evil."

  "Evil?"

  "Because that tower is obviously the work of the Ethicals. These boat people wish to penetrate that tower, to discover its secrets, perhaps to take captive or even kill the Ethicals."

  "You do not know that," Hermann said.

  "No, but it is reasonable to suppose that."

  "I never heard Clemens say that he wanted power. He just wanted to get to the headwaters."

  "What he says publicly and what privately may be two different things."

  "Really, Jacques," Hermann said. "What do we care what they do even if they should manage to get to the tower? Surely you do not think that their puny machines and weapons can do anything to harm the Ethicals? Humans would be as worms to them. Anyway, what can we do about them? We may not use force to stop them."

  The bishop leaned forward, his huge brown hands gripping the edge of the desk. He stared at Hermann as if to peel him, layer by layer, and see what formed the center.

  "There is something wrong in this world, grievously wrong! First, the little resurrections have stopped. This seems to have happened shortly after your last resurrection. You remember the consternation that this news caused?"

  Hermann nodded and said, "I suffered much from anxiety myself. I was in a panic of doubt and despair."

  "So was I. But, as archbishop, I had to reassure my flock. However, I had no facts to use as a basis for hope. It was possible that we had been given the time we needed. All who were going to achieve Going On had done so. The rest would also die, and their kas would roam the universe, forever beyond redemption.

  "But I did not think so. For one thing, I knew that I was not ready to Go On. I have a way to go, perhaps a long one, before I have done that.

  "Yet, would the Ethical have picked me to found the Church if I were not a strong candidate for Going On?

  "Or, and you can imagine my agony at this thought, had I failed? Had I been appointed to show others the way to salvation and yet I had to remain behind? Like Moses who led the Hebrews to the promised land but was forbidden to go down into it himself?"

  "Oh, no!" Hermann murmured. "That could not be!"

  "It could be," Viro said. "I am only a man, not a god. For a while, I even thought about resigning. Perhaps I had allowed myself to ignore my own ethical progress because I was too busy running the affairs of the Church. I had become arrogant; my power had corrupted me in a subtle way. I would let the bishops elect a new chief. I would change my name and go down The River as a missionary.

  "No, do not protest. I was seriously considering that. But then I told myself that I would be betraying the trust given by the Ethicals. And perhaps there was another explanation for this terrible event.

  "Meanwhile, I had to make some sort of public explanation. You know what it was; you were among the first to hear it."

  Hermann nodded. He had been entrusted to carry the message for two thousand miles below Virolando. That had meant being absent from his beloved country for over a year. But he had been glad to do it for La Viro and the Church. The message was: Be not afraid. Have faith. The last days are not here. The trial is not over. We are in an interim which will not last forever. Someday, the dead will arise again. That is promised. Those who made this world and gave you the chance to be immortal cannot fail you. The interim is a test. Be not afraid. Believe.

  Many had asked Hermann what the "test" was. He could only reply that he did not know. Perhaps La Viro had learned what it was from the Ethicals. Perhaps to reveal the purpose of the test would be to defeat its end.

  Some had not accepted this. Bitterly denouncing the Church, they had left it. The majority, however, had remained. Surprisingly, many new converts had been made. These had come in through fear, fear that perhaps there really was a second chance to attain immortality and now their time to do it was short. This was not a rational attitude, since La Viro had said that the resurrections would come again. But they were taking no chances of losing their chance.

  Though fear did not make a long-term believer, it caused a step toward the right direction. Perhaps true faith would follow.

  "The only statement in my message which was not strictly true," La Viro said, "was that about the interim being a test. I had no direct authority, that is, no direct message from the visitor, that such was the case. But, in a sense, my statement was not a pious lie. The stopping of the resurrections is a test. A test of courage and belief. It does indeed try all of us.

  "At that time, I thought that it was being done for some good purpose by the Ethicals. And it may well be that that is so. But the visitor did tell me that he and his fellows were no more than human despite the superpowers available to them. They could make mistakes and errors. Which means that they are not invulnerable. Accidents can happen to them. And enemies could do harm to them."

  Hermann sat straight up. "What enemies?"

  "I cannot know their identity – if indeed there are any. Consider this. This subhuman, no, I will not call him that, since he is human, despite his strange appearance. This giant, Joe Miller, and the Egyptians got to the polar sea despite great odds. Also, others had preceded them. For all we know, others may have followed the Egyptians. How do we know that some of these may not have gotten into the tower? And there did something terrible, perhaps without meaning to do so?"

  "I find it hard to believe that the Ethicals would not have invulnerable defenses," Göring said.

  "Ah!" La Viro said, holding up a finger. "You forget the ominous significance of the tunnel and the rope which Miller's party found. Somebody bored the hole in the mountains and set the rope there. The question is, who and why?"

  "Perhaps it was one of the second-order Ethicals, a renegade agent," Hermann said. "After all, the visitor told you that regression was possible even to him. If it is possible to his kind, think how much more likely it is for an agent."

  La Viro was horrified. "I . . . I should have thought of that! But it is so . . . unthinkable . . . so perilous!"

  "Perilous?"

  "Yes. The agents have to be more advanced than we, yet even they . . . wait."

  La Viro closed his eyes, holding up his right hand with the thumb and index finger forming an O. Hermann said nothing. La Viro was mentally reciting the acceptance formula, a technique used by the Church, invented by La Viro himself. At the end of two minutes, La Viro opened his eyes and smiled.

  "If it should be, we must face all its implications and be ready," he said. "Reality be Thine . . . and ours.

  "However, back to the main reason I sent for you. I want you to get on that boat and observe everything you can. Find out the disposition of the captain, this King John, and his crew. Determine if they are a threat to the Ethicals. By this, I mean, do they have devices and weapons which might conceivably allow them to get into the Tower."

&n
bsp; La Viro frowned and said, "It is time that we took a hand in this matter."

  "You surely do not mean that we may use violence?"

  "No, not to people. But nonviolence and passive resistance apply only to persons. Hermann, if necessary, we will sink that boat! But we will only do it as a last and regrettable measure. And we will do it only if we can be sure that no one will be harmed."

  "I . . . I don't know," Hermann said. "It seems to me that, if we do that, we lack faith in the Ethicals. They should be able to handle anything that mere men can bring against them."

  "You have fallen into the trap the Church continually warns against, the trap of which you have warned many yourself. The Ethicals are not gods. There is only one God."

  Hermann stood up. "Very well. I will leave immediately."

  "You are pale, Fenikso. Don't be so frightened. It may not be necessary to destroy that boat. In any event, we will do it only if we are one hundred percent sure that no one will be injured or killed."

  "It is not that which frightens me," Hermann said. "What does is that a part of me is eager to get into the intrigue, thrilled with the idea of sinking that boat. It's the old Hermann Göring, still alive down there, though I thought I had put him away forever."

  22

  * * *

  The Rex Grandissimus was indeed a beautiful and awing vessel. She plowed speedily in the middle of The River, towering whitely, her great black smokestacks lofty, her two giant paddlewheels churning. From atop the pole above the pilothouse, her flag whipped, showing wavily three golden lions on a scarlet field.

  Hermann Göring, waiting on the deck of a three-masted schooner, raised his eyebrows. The banner was certainly not the scarlet phoenix on blue which Clemens had planned.

  The sky was freckled with hang-gliders swooping above the great riverboat. The River itself was crowded with vessels of all kinds, officials, and sightseers.

  Now the boat was slowing, its captain having interpreted correctly the meaning of the rockets fired from Göring's schooner. Besides, the other craft were forming an obstacle beyond which he could not go without smashing them.

  Finally, it stopped, its wheels turning just enough to match the current.

  As the schooner came alongside, its captain yelled through a riverdragon-fish horn at the Rex. A man on the lowest deck hurried to a phone on a bulkhead and talked to the pilothouse. In a moment, a man leaned out of the pilothouse, holding an instrument with a horn. His voice blared from it, startling Hermann. The device must amplify sounds electrically, he thought.

  "Come aboard!" the man said in Esperanto.

  Though the captain was at least fifty-five feet above the water, and a hundred feet away horizontally, Hermann recognized him. The tawny hair, broad shoulders, and oval face were those of John Lackland, ex-King of England, Lord of Ireland, etc., etc. In a few minutes Hermann had boarded the Rex and was accompanied by two heavily armed officers via a small elevator to the top deck of the pilothouse. On the way he said, "What happened to Sam Clemens?"

  The men looked surprised. One said, "How did you know about him?"

  "Gossip travels faster than your boat," Hermann said. This was true, and if he had not exactly told the truth, he also had not lied.

  They entered the control room. John was standing by the pilot's chair and looking outward. He turned at the sound of the elevator closing. He was five feet five inches tall, a good-looking virile-seeming man with wide-set blue eyes. He wore a black uniform which he probably never put on except to impress locals. The black jacket, trousers, and boots were of riverdragon-leather. Gold buttons adorned the jacket, and a golden lion's head roared soundlessly from above the visor of the cap. Hermann wondered where he had gotten the gold, an extremely rare item. Probably, he'd taken it from some poor wretch.

  His chest was bare. Tawny hair, a shade or two darker than that on his head, curled thickly over the V of the jacket top.

  One of the officers who'd escorted him snapped a salute. "The emissary of Virolando, Sire!"

  So, Hermann thought, it was sire, not sir.

  It was evident that John did not recognize his visitor. He surprised Hermann by walking to him, smiling, and holding out his hand. Hermann took it. Why not? He was not here to revenge himself. He had a duty to perform.

  "Welcome aboard," John said. "I am the captain, John Lackland. Though, as you see, I have no land I do have something even more valuable, this vessel."

  He laughed and added, "I was once the King of England and Ireland, if that means anything to you."

  "I am Brother Fenikso, a sub-bishop in the Church of the Second Chance and a secretary to La Viro. In his name I welcome you to Virolando. And, yes, Your Majesty, I have read about you. I was born in the twentieth century in Bavaria."

  John's thick tawny eyebrows went up. "I've heard much of La Viro, of course, and we were told that he lived not too far up-River."

  John introduced the others, none of whom Hermann knew except the first mate, Augustus Strubewell. He was an American, very large, blond, and handsome. He crushed Hermann's hand and said, "Welcome, Bishop." He didn't seem to recognize him either. Göring shrugged mental shoulders. After all, he hadn't been in Parolando long, and that was over thirty-three years ago.

  "Would you like a drink?" John said.

  Hermann said, "No, thank you. I hope you will let me stay aboard, Captain. I am here to escort you to our capital. We welcome you in peace and love and hope that you come in the same spirit. La Viro wishes to meet you and to extend his blessing. Perhaps you would like to stay awhile and stretch your legs on shore. In fact, you may stay here as long as you wish."

  "I am not, as you see, a member of your congregation," John said, accepting a cup of bourbon from an orderly. "But I have a high regard for the Church. It's had a highly civilizing influence along The River. Which is more than I can say for the church to which I once belonged. It has made our voyage much easier, since it has reduced militancy. However, not many people would care to attack us anyway."

  "I'm glad to hear that," Hermann said. He decided it would be best not to mention what John had done in Parolando. Perhaps the man had changed. He would give him the benefit of the doubt.

  The captain made arrangements for Göring's quarters. His cabin would be in the texas, a long structure which was an extension of the room just below the pilothouse and which was on the extreme forward starboard side of the landing deck. The top officers were cabined in this.

  John asked about his Terrestrial life. Göring replied that the past wasn't worth talking about. What mattered was the present.

  John said, "Well, perhaps, but the present is the sum of the past. If you won't talk about yourself, would you tell me of Virolando?"

  It was a legitimate question, though Göring wondered if John wished to find out the state's military potential. He wouldn't tell him that it did not have any. Let him find out for himself. He did make it clear, however, that no one of the Rex would be allowed to bring arms ashore.

  "If this were any other place, I wouldn't abide by that rule," John said, smiling. "But I'm sure we'll be safe in the heart of the Church."

  "This land is, as far as I know, unique," Hermann said. "It's topography and its citizens are remarkable. The first you can see for yourself," and he waved at the rock spires.

  "It's a columnar country indeed," John said. "But what makes the citizens so different?"

  "The great majority of them are Rivertads. When the first resurrection occurred, this area was filled with children who had died between the ages of five and seven. There were about twenty to every adult. Nowhere else that I've heard of has had that proportion. The children seemed to be from many places and times, of many nations and races. They had one thing in common, though. They were frightened. But, fortunately, the adults were mostly from peaceful and progressive countries, Scandinavia, Iceland, and Switzerland of the twentieth century. The area wasn't subjected to the vicious struggles for power that occurred elsewhere. The strait to the
west cuts off the titanthrops who lived there. The peoples immediately westward down-River were of the same kind as those here. Thus, the adults could give full time to taking care of the children.

  "Then La Viro announced that he had spoken to one of the mysterious beings who had made this world. He would have been received as all prophets have been in the beginning of their careers. With rejection by all but a few. But La Viro had something substantial, something beyond words and his conviction. He had solid visible proof. It was something which no one else had, which had to be the product of the Ethicals.

  "This was The Gift, as it's generally called. You'll see it in the Temple. A golden helix. And so he made his home here.

  "The children were brought up with discipline and love, and it was they who built this culture you see all about you."

  John said, "If the citizens are as beautiful in spirit as their country is to the sight, then they must be angels."

  "They're human," Göring said, "and so this is no Utopia, no Paradise. I believe, however, that you will not find any other place which has so many truly friendly, open, generous, and loving persons. It is a very pleasant place to live in, if you have a kindred spirit."

  "Perhaps this would be a good place for a long shore leave," John said. "Besides, the motors need rewiring, and that takes time."

  "How long you stay here depends upon you," Göring said.

  John looked sharply at him.

  Göring smiled, Was John considering how he could take advantage of the Virolanders? Or was he merely thinking that he could relax here, not have to worry about his boat being seized?