David threw up his hands.
"This is impossible. You're impossible!"
"When will we wed?" Sil-Chan asked.
"A month," she said. "That we cannot speed."
David said: "Hep, if you would just . . ."
"I warned you, David."
David turned to Sil-Chan. "Do you have any idea of what you're starting?"
The question ran a finger of ice down Sil-Chan's spine. He was here to negotiate with the Paternoster. What happened to that if the PN were alienated at the start?
"I knew it would be a day of turning," Hepzebah said. "A flight of plover settled in the grass outside my window at dawn. One remained when the others flew on. It called to me before following the flight."
"The PN will blow down the trees," David said. "He wants Hep to wed Martin. Joining the two lines will prevent disputes." He whirled on Hepzebah. "You know that!"
"There are others to do the joining," she said. "It will be done."
David flicked a glance at Sil-Chan. "What if this one changes . . ."
"Have I ever been wrong, David . . . about such as this?"
"The line of the PN is more important than you or anything else," David said.
"And I will join what I will join," she said.
David turned his back on her, stared into the fire. "You!" he muttered.
Tchung awoke in the black darkness of his bedroom and was several heartbeats orienting himself. The nightmare persisted in his mind. A dream of horrible reality: Ambroso had come into the Director's office, flourishing deadly weapons and laughing with the laugh of Sooma Sil-Chan. Slowly, the flesh of Ambroso had peeled away, leaving Sil-Chan who continued to laugh and flourish the weapons.
"Now you know me," the dream Sil-Chan said. "Now I am director. Be gone, old man."
"Are you awake, Pat?" It was Madame Tchung from the other bed.
Tchung was glad she could not see his perspiring face.
"Yes."
"Are you troubled, dear?"
"I'm worried about Sooma. Not a word from him."
"He'll call when he has news, dear."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"Why is that?"
"Ambroso demanded all of my private scrambler codes today."
"And you gave them to him?"
"What else could I do. I must obey."
"That stupid rule!"
Tchung sighed.
"Sooma will find a solution," Madame Tchung said. "Records cannot have made a mistake about him."
"But he's . . . so intense."
"He's still young, dear."
"And so intense."
"Sooma had to work hard to get where he is, dear. Trust him."
Tchung sighed. "I'm trying. But it is difficult. When I was his age I was already . . ."
"You were precocious, dear. Now come over here and let me soothe you."
Sil-Chan, too, experienced a nightmare. He had been quartered by David Dornbaker in a small upper room above the fireplace "because it gets cold here at night." The cot was slender and firm, the blankets rough and smelling of animal fur. There was no pillow, and Sil-Chan's shoulder throbbed. He rolled up his clothing for a pillow and tried to sleep.
The nightmare invaded his mind.
Paternomer Dornbaker stood over him. The PN was twice the height of a normal man and his fingers ended in claws. The blood of fallow deer dripped from the claws.
"I will hunt you!" the PN raged. Clawed hands came up to threaten Sil-Chan.
Hepzebah darted in front of him. Fangs protruded from her soft mouth. "He is mine," she said and her voice was the voice of a hunter-cat. "I will drink your blood before I let you harm him."
Sil-Chan found that his arms were bound, his feet encased in tight sacking. He could not move. His voice would not obey him.
The PN moved to the left. Hepzebah darted to intercept him. The PN moved to the right. Again, Hepzebah blocked his way.
"I will drop this fool down the deepest shaft of the Library," the PN said. "Who can stop me? The Library is mine . . . mine . . . mine . . . mine. . . ."
Sil-Chan awoke to find his body encased tightly in the blankets which he had twisted around himself. His shoulder ached. Slowly, Sil-Chan freed himself from the blankets and sat up on the edge of his cot. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. There was moonglow through a tiny skylight. Shadows from the limbs of giant trees painted images on the floor.
Tomorrow, he and Hepzebah would have a day to themselves. The PN would arrive on the following day.
What can I tell him?
Sil-Chan felt that he had been enchanted, caught in a magic web. I know it and I don't care. What matter the Dornbaker Account? Nothing mattered except the enchantment.
But I can't abandon the Library. Tchung depends on me.
Why did Tchung depend on him? The question had not occurred to Sil-Chan in quite that form. Why? Well . . . Tchung would not move without the advice of Records. That was certain. What could Records tell the Director about one Sooma Sil-Chan?
Sil-Chan looked inward at his own past life -- a dedicated Library slave, little better than one of the robots. Self-programming, of course. Too single-minded for most people. Few friends. No women friends, although several had indicated more than a casual interest in him. This interest had vanished quickly when they found he was on anti-S.
Well, I'm off it now. They've probably never even heard of it on the Free Island.
He thought of Hepzebah then, conjured her face into his mind. Ahhh, with her, all things were possible.
With a sigh, Sil-Chan once more wrapped himself in the blankets and composed himself for sleep. This time, he invited another nightmare: His body was transformed by a witch (who looked remarkably like Hepzebah) and he became a throbbing eye which moved inward, ever deeper inward down a shaft of the Library Planet. The drop seemed endless and when it finally stopped, the eye/himself peered upward as all of the Library's contents came cascading down the shaft toward him.
"It'll blind me!" he screamed.
And he awoke to find the pale glow of morning coming through the skylight and mists drifting across the tree branches out there.
A knock sounded on his door. David's voice: "You awake?"
"Yes."
"The PN is here."
Sil-Chan sat upright, stared at the closed door. "But he wasn't supposed to . . ."
"He's here and he wants to see you immediately. You and Hepzebah."
The Paternomer Dornbaker was not as tall as his nightmare counterpart, but he towered over Sil-Chan nonetheless. The PN stood more than two meters and his shock of grey hair added another ten centimeters. The PN was also a heavy man, muscular and swift in his movements. The early morning light penetrated the east windows to bathe the room in sharp contrasts. The PN stood out like an ancient figurehead, an older David -- skin like cured leather, fan wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, a square chin, sea blue eyes and a wide mouth with dark lips.
Sil-Chan stood facing him in front of the fireplace. Hepzebah sat on the divan with David standing behind her.
The PN glared at Sil-Chan. "Why do you deliberately disrupt things of which you have no knowledge?"
Sil-Chan glanced at Hepzebah, but she was staring at the floor.
"I did not come to disrupt," Sil-Chan aid.
"I judge a man by what he does," the PN said. "How long have you been seeing my niece?"
"I met her for the first time, yesterday."
"A likely story."
"Are you calling me a liar, sir?" Sil-Chan kept his voice low and steady. It was a tone that surprised even him. The pre-Dornbaker Sil-Chan would never have used it.
The PN favored him with a peculiar, weighted stare, then: "No-o-o, I am not. But you will admit this is disruptively surprising."
"Surprising, yes."
"Why did you come here, then?"
"The Library needs your help."
"This is how you enlist my help?" He waved at Hepzebah.
Sh
e stood and moved to Sil-Chan's side, put her hand in his. "You almost killed him, Uncle, and you've not apologized."
"You stay out of this."
"Don't you take that tone with me," she said, "or I and my sisters will ban the seed. How will you find a PN then?"
He glared at her. "I'm the PN here!" He made it sound "Pen."
"And I am the Elected Womb," she said.
The PN focused on Sil-Chan. "With him?"
"With whomever I choose!"
"The trothers agreeing!"
"They'll agree."
"I'm thirsty," the PN said.
David whirled away and went into the rear of the house while the PN stared into the fire. Presently, David returned with one of the earthen mugs he had brought to Sil-Chan. The PN took the drink without looking at David, quaffed it, wiped his lips and returned the mug with the same casual disregard for its source.
"My word is law here," the PN said. "Except when I give a direct order to a chit like that." He jerked his head at Hepzebah. "You know you've interrupted my hunt?"
"David sent word to you, I know," she said. "But you could have come back after the hunt."
"And found you already with the trothers?" He looked at Sil-Chan. "Why aren't you sitting? I told you there was no need to stand." His voice sounded suddenly old and petulant. "I know you were injured."
Sil-Chan realized that was as much of an apology as he would ever get. It amused him and strengthened him.
"You owe him something for the loss of his jetter," David ventured.
The PN whirled. "I don't owe him the woman who could join those lines! Martin's willing. Why can't she . . ."
"I have sisters," Hepzebah said. "The lines can still be joined."
"But not this year," the PN grumbled. "It's an imposition to expect an old man to wait for . . ."
Sil-Chan interrupted: "Aren't you being a little . . ."
"Stay out of this!" the PN snapped.
"I will not stay out of this!"
"You won't obey a direct order from the PN?" His voice was ominous.
Sil-Chan suppressed the churning of his stomach. "Sir, I came here at the direction of Galactic Archives, of the Library. You don't have any idea what . . ."
"We'll get to your official excuses later," the PN said. "Right now I'm trying to reason with a pig-headed female who . . ."
"Uncle." The steel had returned to Hepzebah's voice. "In front of a witness, I asked this man to wed and he accepted."
"So David says!"
"Even you are not above the law," she said. "You will recall that I was not raised a chore daubto . . ."
"Maybe that's where I made my mistake," the PN muttered.
"If it was a mistake, it was not my mistake," she said. "And I warn you that I do not intend to be bound by your tame band of trothers when. . . ."
"You're a pig-headed female!"
She continued unperturbed. ". . . when they cast no omens, made no divinations. We both know that they followed your instructions to approve Martin."
"What's the difference? Mumbo jumbo or common sense? Give me common sense every time!" Again, he stared into the fire.
"Don't try swaying the trothers," she said. "I'll demand the Pleb. You know what'll happen then."
He spoke without turning. "Are you threatening me?"
She said: "The trothers will face the Stone and be forced to admit your interference. The vote of the Pleb will go for me."
"All right! "He whirled. "So you want this . . . this . . ." He gestured with a fist at Sil-Chan. "Ever since you were a wee one you've gotten everything you wanted! Now you . . ."
"Will all of you shut up for just a minute?" Sil-Chan asked. "I've had quite enough of this family bickering." He caught a sudden grin from David standing behind the PN, took heart from it.
"Oh, have you now?" the PN asked. His voice was dangerous.
"I'll admit to being swept off my feet by your niece," Sil-Chan said. "Who can blame me? That's chemistry or . . . or whatever. It's wonderful and I wouldn't change it for all of Free Island. But I came here on another matter, something vital to us all."
"Do you know I could have you taken into the wilderness just like that . . ." The PN snapped his fingers. ". . . and eliminated, and no one the wiser."
The old Sil-Chan would have cringed at the threat. The new Sil-Chan took a step closer to the PN. "You might be able to murder me, but there'd be some the wiser!"
The PN's mouth opened, snapped shut. His chin lifted. He looked at Sil-Chan with new interest.
"We have mutual problems," Sil-Chan said. "We . . ."
"You have a talent for creating problems, no doubt of that," the PN said, but Sil-Chan senses an underlying banter in the tone.
"You may force me to return to the mainland without Hepzebah," Sil-Chan said. "But I have a mission here and I am an official of Galactic Archives."
Hepzebah squeezed Sil-Chan's hand. "If you go, I go."
The PN blinked, looked at his niece, then at Sil-Chan. "All right! What's bothering you pack rats? I want the full story."
Sil-Chan winced. Tchung's warning filled his mind. These Dornbakers could tip over the whole cart, but they might not know their legal position. So the Computer reported. Sil-Chan returned the PN's demanding stare. This was a rough man, this PN, but also a man of essential integrity . . . a man with his own code, a wilderness honor which might not be too different from the Library's Code. A lie would be the surest way to alienate such a man.
It occurred to Sil-Chan then that a sum which could bankrupt the government was owed to these Dornbakers. In one sense, this PN was the government, and the Library's Code required obedience to the government.
The PN has just ordered me to tell him the full story.
Sil-Chan did not feel that this was a line of reasoning which would stand much reconsideration, but it swayed the balance in his own mind. He began explaining about the Myrmid Enclave's jackals, the war monitor, the downward projection of Dornbaker property, the drain on Archive funds, the monstrous sum owed to the Dornbakers . . . he left out nothing.
"Why should any government acknowledge that debt?" the PN asked, when Sil-Chan had finished.
"The Enclave's jurisdiction over the planet is based on accepted responsibility. Government subsidy keeps us running, fuels the collection ships, everything. If they are not responsible for us, they have no jurisdiction here."
"In their shoes, I'd opt for a simple invasion," the PN said.
David nodded agreement. Hepzebah looked thoughtful, but did not remove her hand from Sil-Chan's.
"But the Enclave holds power through a fistful of mutual aid and defense agreements. We're not very important to that agreement -- especially in a time of cost-cutting politics."
"I sympathize," the PN said, "but seems to me we could accommodate to any government. We're a simple people. Don't cost much."
"You weren't listening very well," Sil-Chan said. "You are the biggest single cost on this planet. Weather control adjustments alone take more than our robot repair budget. That's the first cost I'd cut."
"Stop our glaciers and our morning mists?" the PN asked.
"Certainly! Let you take the weather the rest of us get."
"You stop the mists and our big trees die! If they die, that sets off a chain of . . ."
"If the Enclave has its way, all services will stop . . . except perhaps the counterbalance. That'd wreck the planet."
"Do I understand you correctly?" David asked. "Free Island extends downward almost to the planet's core?"
"And upward to the edge of the atmosphere," Sil-Chan said.
"All that dirt," the PN said.
"It isn't all dirt in the strictest sense," Sil-Chan said. "Below the former magma line it's . . ."
"What's its value?" the PN asked.
"I couldn't began to tell you," Sil-Chan said.
"Seems to me," the PN mused, "our mutual problem is to make us important to that agreement which holds the government togeth
er."
"Too bad that Enclave doesn't have the Pleb," Hepzebah said. "If they could vote on . . ." She broke off as Sil-Chan squeezed her hand hard. He stared at her, an audacious idea taking shape in his mind.
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