Voidfarer

by Sean McMullen

  "I say, anything I ought to know about, Inspector?" called the anxious voice of Wallas. "On this side it's still Alberin one, Lupan zero."

  "Alberin three, Lupan two in the harbor," I reported.

  "Very funny. What's really happening?"

  With that I shook off the backpack and held it up for Wallas to see. The occasional thrashing tentacle breaking the surface was all that was visible.

  "We beat them, Constable Wallas!" I shouted, tossing Wallas and the pack high into the air and catching it again. I immediately regretted this display of enthusiasm, as urine began to drip from the bottom of the pack. It was just then that the thing passed overhead. It was a vast, silvery shape, like a bird's wings but with no bird between them. My impression was that it was not as big as a glass dragon, and while the dragons flew in silence, this thing gave off a continuous roar like a huge waterfall. It flew low over the south of the city, circling the stricken tower, then broke off and began climbing as it headed inland. The lettering on the wings was the same as that on the tripod towers.

  x x x

  That was all that I saw of the fighting. I later learned that the cavalrymen who had been brought along by the Lupanians had been watching from just beyond South Gate. They decided to ride in and take possession of the burning city, having quite reasonably assumed that the tripod towers had subdued Alberin. The first warning that they had of any potential problems was the Alberin Electrocratic Free Cavalry pouring out into the square behind the gate, a little behind a shower of arrows from the Alberin Voters' Archery Militia. While the Free Cavalry numbered only a thousand or so armored lancers, mostly retirees in their sixties and seventies riding cart horses, several thousand of the Alberin Voters' Defense Infantry Militia were behind them. All were in a particularly aggressive and confident frame of mind, after having learned from the signal gongs that the citizens had destroyed all four Lupanian fighting towers. About a dozen of the enemy cavalry managed to escape back through the shattered gate and flee after a short but bloody battle, but Laron was not at all worried.

  "They will spread the word of our victory," he said as I presented a written report of my observations from the tower. "The Lupanians will be more cautious next time."

  "Every win we have is due to Lupanian inexperience," I pointed out. "That was the first time they encountered battle galleys. Next time they will burn them to the waterline before they are within a mile's distance."

  "But they have lost ten of their number. That is half of all those sent here."

  "Oh aye. Two when Halland fried them in their voidship, one on the voyage here, two to an exploding dragon, four to

  bare-arsed carelessness, and only one in face-to-face combat. There are ten left, and I can see them being absolutely ruthless from now on."

  "What would you do, were you a Lupanian?"

  "Use the heat weapon against our forts and ships from a distance of a mile, blanket the city with poison smoke, then send in human warriors to take over. Never have a tower set foot in Alberin again."

  XXX

  The fate of the tower in the city's south owed more to chance and farce than planning and ingenuity. It had stopped to burn an array of camouflaged dummy ballistas amid the smoke from burning hellfire oil and straw. Thus the street below it was shrouded in swirling smoke as it then took a step forward, but as its foot came down, a cart drawn by four horses and carrying a mobile ballista collided with the lattice work leg as the crew, which had just shot at it and missed, tried to get away in the confusion and smoke—but set off in the wrong direction. The Lupanian had looked down, and apparently been hit in the faceplate by a bolt from another ballista.

  The Metrologans and Skepticals now had a practically undamaged tripod tower to study.

  XXX

  Had the Lupanians attacked again that night or the following morning, Alberin would have been theirs for the taking. All that they knew, however, was that four of their tripod towers and most of their slave cavalry had been swallowed by the city. Clearly they needed to know how we had done it before they went on to tackle other cities, and thus we were given a respite by the cautious Lupanians. We all knew they would be back, however.

  Once the fires had been extinguished, the dead and wounded attended to, the prisoners led off, and the reports compiled, we found that barely nine hundred Alberinese had died. Most of these had been on the Megazoid and the Gigazoid, or had not worn wet masks for the poison smoke, so that

  the city had come out of the conflict relatively unscathed. I expected Alberin to collectively celebrate with an orgy of excess that would exceed even that of the night following the regent's desertion, but most people were just relieved and exhausted, and were content to merely go to bed. After submitting my report, seeing Lavenci, then helping with the fires, I too spent a few hours asleep.

  XXX

  I was roused around the fourth hour past midnight by Wallengton, and driven in his carriage to where the stricken tower was standing. I arrived to find the area barricaded off and under guard. Laron was there with several Metrologans and Skepticals, and a makeshift ladder had been rigged up for access to the Lupanian war machine.

  "We are spreading the story that a ballista crew shot the thing in the faceplate," said Laron as we stood looking at the torchlit monster.

  "Story?" I asked. "I see the remains of a ballista over there."

  "The true story is a little more complex, Danol. Their bolt missed, flew about three hundred yards, passed through a window of Honest Hassel's Exotic Diomedan Imports, and killed a pile of expensive carpets. The tower then stepped on the ballista and its crew. Still, a victory is a victory."

  "But hardly a glorious victory. Who knows?"

  "In effect, nobody but you, Lavenci, Yvendel, Halland, and I. Only Lavenci and I have been within the tower's hood."

  "So what really happened?"

  "I don't know! There is a hole in the faceplate, a hole in the Lupanian and his seat, and another hole in the back of the cowl. There is melting around the edges of the holes, and I suspect that a stray shot from the heat weapon of one of the other tripod towers was responsible. It's a wonder that it does not happen more often."

  I stood with my hands on my hips, looking up at the tower.

  "So, shall I be named as the sole survivor of the ballista crew and credited with a second tower killed in the name of civic morale?" I asked, not entirely sure if my sarcasm was about to become reality.

  "Seriously, have you ever thought of going into politics?" replied Laron.

  "You're serious, aren't you."

  "Yes. You've killed one already, so killing this one also is believable. Lavenci is inside the upper cowl, learning what she can. The handling beast in the lower hood is alive and well, by the way."

  "Can the tower be made functional?" I asked immediately.

  'That was my very first question to Lavenci when we arrived. Apparently that is like asking a blacksmith's apprentice if he can bash a vanquished kavelar's armor back into shape, dress up in it, then defeat ten veteran kavelars."

  "Does that translate as no in Alberinese?"

  "A very definite no, even were the tower undamaged—and it most certainly is damaged. On the other hand, we now have a tower to study. Why not climb up, look heroic for the onlookers over there, and enter the hood?" I gave the distant drinkers a wave as I paused beside the hood's hatchway, was cheered enthusiastically, then I entered. Lavenci had a lantern with her, so it was well lit. The Lupanian was most definitely dead. Lavenci was lamenting that various important things that she did not understand had been damaged, and most of these involved controlling the tower. I could understand none of it. The inside of the tower looked like the interior of a vast box of jewelry as far as I was concerned, being all glittering, faceted studs and lights, glass levers, and plates with moving lettering that ran across from the left and vanished to the right. There were no steering poles, speaking tubes, or reins to the handling beast, or anything else that I could have understood.
I had thought that there would at least be a farsight with some sort of mirror system, but there was nothing of that nature. Neither was there a crossbowlike stock and trigger for the heat weapon. I prodded at the walls, which were all cushioning and colored studs.

  "So, it is not all glass," I said to myself, then took the glass-weave sword from the dead Lupanian.

  I looked out through the faceplate, across the city. It was the view of a titan, a god. Had the Lupanians merely wanted us annihilated, we would not have stood a chance, yet they

  seemed to want to conquer and rule. I mentioned this to Lavenci.

  "I too, am puzzled by their behavior," she said, standing back. "On their world it is common for the big cities to be isolated during invasions, or so Azorian said. They are then starved out, and the city is taken intact."

  "That is also what we do here, on Verral," I replied, nodding. "But the Lupanians have vastly more power than us, so perhaps they are impatient."

  "I have a different theory," said Lavenci. "Not many on Lupan knew that this was an invasion. It was to be an expedition of scholars, traders, and the like. The invasion might have been a conspiracy between an emperor and some others who wanted to rule an entire world. Most of Lupan might be on our side."

  "That is of little use. Lupan is a very long way from here."

  "Indeed, but the great etheric ballista that shot the voidship to our world is still intact. The invading Lupanians only have perhaps a year before more voidships can be fashioned by their sorcerers from pools of molten glass and special pottery clay. If the rogues have not conquered our world by then, we might ally ourselves with the new arrivals. All we have to do is hold out."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Is a blacksmith's apprentice sure what a king will do with the ax he is sharpening and polishing?" "Not in my experience."

  "Well I have no such experience, but what is evident to me is that the Lupanians are in haste."

  "A hasty enemy makes mistakes of judgment," I said hopefully. "Aye, perhaps all we must do is hold out for long enough."

  "True," said Lavenci, "but it is the desperate yet powerful enemy that I fear."

  At dawn the access hatch of the lower cowl was opened, and the handling beast was lowered into a wheeled cage by an improvised crane. The cowl was rotated with ropes so that it faced west. The tentacles hung slack, still holding the concave mirror that was the core of the casting that powered the heat weapon. All in all, it was the very symbol of Alberin's triumph over the Lupanians. Very slowly Alberin awoke and began to lick its wounds. No more towers appeared on the horizon, and both repairs and military training resumed.

  XXX

  I was highly skeptical about the idea of calling an election in the middle of a war. Riellen was adamant, however, and would take no advice from anyone. The campaign had been in full swing from the day after Riellen had been pronounced elector, and there were nearly eleven dozen candidates. These had sent their supporters into the taverns to buy drinks for all, plastered broadsheets on all public noticeboards, and held rallies to promise what they would do if elected presidian.

  The Avenue of Conquerors, the only long, straight, wide road in Alberin, was the venue for the election. All candidates were instructed to gather with their supporters at noon, each at a designated place along the avenue. On the stroke of noon, a count was made by Elector Riellen's clerks, while officers strode along the city walls, noting the votes of the militiamen still on duty. Seven out of every ten Alberinese voted, although families tended to vote as one. I had doubts about letting children as young as five vote, but then I was not Elector Riellen. At least she disallowed the proposal to allow dogs and horses to vote with their masters. At noon I arrived at my designated place on the avenue, to find quite a sizable crowd waiting for me.

  "Most stupid idea that I ever heard of," I muttered as I stood with Wallas in my pack and Solonor in my pocket.

  "Then why did you stand, sir?" asked Solonor.

  "Laron's idea," I replied. "He said that if I had only a small crowd, I should concede defeat, then tell them to add their votes to his."

  "How big is your crowd?"

  "Some two thousand, but I'm still going to concede." I was led up onto the balcony of a commandeered house by one of Riellen's elector clerks, then left to my own devices. A carpet of faces stared up at me as I raised my hands for silence.

  "Citizens of Greater Alberin, I have been nominated for presidian because I helped destroy one, er, two, Lupanian towers," I began, "but you should not vote for me because of that. Candidate Laron is running the city, and he can organize people like me to destroy many more towers. Under Laron's guidance, four more towers have been destroyed. I am just a fighter, like the rest of you. Laron is who should be leading us against the Lupanians. He has proved he can beat them. Follow me, add your numbers to Laron's voters."

  After some more words along those lines, I got my supporters chanting:

  "Who do we vote for?

  "La-ron!

  "When do we vote? "Now!"

  I had been put at the westernmost end of the Avenue of Conquerors, so that my two thousand chanting voters passed pretty well every other candidate's group as I led them to join Laron's supporters. Folk from my crowd broke away and explained to other voters that I had added my people to Laron's. By the time I had reached Laron's rally site, my group had doubled in size. Interestingly, Halland then did exactly the same. In retrospect, I think that it was a fairly clever strategy, and that Laron had planned it out well in advance. Nominate some of one's closest supporters to stand, then suggest that they might concede—but lead their supporters to his rally point. Thus Laron not only was able to address his own supporters, he also managed to use us to address yet more folk on his behalf. It was a simple enough scheme to organize, but it needed to be done well in advance. None of the other candidates had thought of it, or of any scheme other than distributing free beer, threatening divine retribution upon nonsupporters, or claiming that it was their birthright to rule. An hour later we had our first result. Three of the candidates had over ten thousand votes each, and Riellen had decreed that everyone with over ten thousand votes should be in a second runoff.

  I stood right across the avenue, on the outskirts of the crowd, to listen to the final speeches. Solonor was sitting on -my right shoulder, Wallas was draped over my left.

  "You realize, of course, that because I am a cat I did not get a vote," said Wallas.

  "When a cat stands for presidian, I'm sure all that will change," I assured him.

  "What about the gnomes?" asked Solonor.

  "Run for gnome presidian, and exclude all the human competition," I suggested. Duke Forndar was one of the nobles who had decided to flee by ship, so that he could take a lot more of his wealth with him than was otherwise possible. Thus it was that he had not exited the city as hastily as his peers, and so had been there to sense an opportunity to grasp power. His basic platform was that he was a ruler by birth, that he had a lot of money, and that Laron was a felon who had been released from legal custody without the consent of the former regent.

  "Failed a very important intelligence test," commented Wallas, and I nodded in agreement.

  "How so?" asked Solonor.

  "What former regent fled Alberin, leaving the citizens to the mercy of the Lupanians?" I replied. "Oh."

  The Archpriest Martissen was head of the World Mother Templearians, and his position was that if he was not elected, then the World Mother would not stand with Alberin against the invaders from another world. The Templearians were the biggest religion in Alberin, and thus Martissen was confident of winning. He also pointed out that Laron was conducting an affair with Elector Riellen herself, and had affiliations with no organized religion at all.

  "Ooh, that Laron's gone now," said Solonor.

  "Why?" asked Wallas.

  "Well, like, the man's been caught with his drawers down."

  "In Alberin, the most scandal-loving city in the known world?" I l
aughed.

  "The priest's failed an important intelligence test too," added Wallas. Laron began to speak, but it was now that Elder Justiva found me. She drew me out of the crowd and away into one of the side streets that led to the Metrologan temple and academy.

  "We have a problem," she said. "A messenger has just arrived from the south."

  "So, it's bad news?" I asked.

  "Catastrophic," she replied. "The messenger is something of a disaster as well."

  XXX

  I was told to leave Wallas and Solonor in the infirmary of the temple, then was taken upstairs. In a large and open loft within the temple I found Lavenci with ... well, at first she did not seem much like a woman. Etheric energies crackled and sparkled across her skin, and glowed from her eyes and mouth. Tendrils of violet fire writhed and danced through her hair, and an aura of incompletely controlled energies had rendered her arms into blurred, unfocused things that extended some yards behind and above her. She stood before us, clothed only in energies, scanning our faces.

  "This. .. not him," she declared in a voice that reminded me of waxpaper being crumpled.

  "Inspector Danolarian Scryverin, Wayfarers, West Quadrant, at your service," I declared, dropping to one knee and bowing.

  "You ... young reccon ... in my escort... years ago. Sweet boy ... educated

  ... dashing ... honorable. But where is ... Andry Tennoner?"

  "None of us know," said Justiva.

  'Then ... I want Roval."

  "Elector Advisor Roval, Intelligence?" I asked.

  "My Roval," replied the cracking whisper.

  "Roval is in charge of the welfare of candidates at the elections. He is still busy."

  "Too late, then ... you three ... write."

  We seated ourselves, and Justiva sent for writing kits and lap boards.

  "This is Terikel, the previous Elder of the Metrologans," whispered Justiva as we waited. "Three years ago she entered the earliest stage of becoming a glass dragon. She glides on the winds with huge, etheric wings, and she never quite sleeps."