by Phillip Mann
Pawl listened and then he asked one question. “Why me?”
“Because you loved, and because your love was fierce and because you set your love above everything else. But that is not all the reason. It is a matter of spirit, Pawl. You have a fierce spirit. You know how it burns in you. The spirit burns beyond time and place. The Craint knew that and that is why they summoned you. That is why they honoured you in this life.” Odin sighed, like a wind passing over water and reeds. “Ultimately there is only goodness, but that is hard to see. I try to keep my mind on goodness. That thing up there – “ some of Odin’s flukes moved and directed their small purple mouths up towards Erix – “it is nothing … But its nothing must be held at bay. It is the emptying of desire. This world holds it in check and – “ Odin’s words suddenly became laboured – “and we all do what we can. We offer our best. You, Pawl, offer your love.”
Pawl could think of nothing to say. There was nothing he wanted to say. He felt himself void of desire. Words seemed unreal.
Odin continued and his voice became slightly stronger. “Now, Pawl. I have one last request. You humans honour such things, don’t you? Help me through. I can see only dark and light. When I have gone all that I am, my soul, my stone, will be in your hands. I give it to you willingly. Do with it what you will. It is ended.”
The flukes on Odin’s hide stood out even more stiffly as though straining. Behind Pawl there was movement. Laurel, her skin a mottle of black and purple, stepped close. She plunged her hand deep into the raised tendrils and squeezed.
Pawl rolled away on his back, his hands over his ears, as pain flooded through his mind. “Live,” he screamed. “Live.”
All the tendrils fell at once. The great sucker closed and opened and the small shape of Odin drooped and fell. Pawl felt the pain recede and in its place there came a great calm, a singing which grew until it became a high rushing wind …
… and the wind departed and there was silence.
Laurel’s arms were round him. She rocked him like a baby.
Later she lifted him up and helped him inside.
High in the sky Erix moved on, its leaden light heavy on the green of Thule.
In the grey morning Pawl left his bed and went outside. A heavy dew had made everything damp. He walked up from the house to where the roots of the tree lifted from the earth. There he found a glossy stump. The remains of Odin were deliquescing. The small body was decaying to water and fibre. Visible already was Odin’s stone. It was a misshapen but rounded lump of rock through which ran fine wrinkles, like the stone of a peach. He reached in and the stone came away from the jellied parts of Odin which still held it. It was remarkably heavy and Pawl had to use both hands to lift it.
Odin had carried this stone all his years. Round it had flowed all his life. Pawl held the stone and then listened to the silence, the awful silence. He was alone now. No, not alone, for Laurel was here. But alone in a private way.
Pawl sat down on the wet grass with the stone between his legs and wished he could cry. So much said. So much left unsaid. Poor Odin. Poor lovely, gentle creature. This stone was all that remained.
51
ON SABLE
Helium’s fur had been dyed blue in honour of his age and the three-hundredth anniversary of his accession to the Mastership. He sat and looked at his reflection dismally. Helium hated birthdays and public celebrations of all kinds. His delight was in the more simple things of life, like his pipe, and so he dallied and was late for the main festivities.
Among other things, he missed a water dance in which the young Bogdanovich males courted the eligible Shell females. The dance was formal, which meant that hand-touching only was allowed. No slide-over high-jinks were permitted. They would come later when the older members of the Conspiracy retired and the young could have their head.
The dance took place in Clover Shell’s new garden which was called Thalatta in honour of the dead planet. It was a fun garden. There was a kelp forest with quiet corners where warmer water gushed up and where a loving couple could find privacy. For the adventurous there were deep caves under the islands where mock spearfish and needlefins lay in wait. There was a wide lagoon with a mirror bottom where swimmers could admire their own grace.
What Laurel would have made of the garden is anyone’s guess. But the Shell-Bogdanovich liked it and as far as they were concerned that was all that mattered.
The Thalatta garden was to be Helium and Clover’s gift to the entire family and on this day Helium was to open it to the vast network of pipes and ditches which allowed aquatic life to thrive in this dry part of Sable.
Finally Helium arrived, ejected into the garden by a pressure chute. He could see that Clover was not pleased. Quickly he swam to the central island and slithered up on to a dais made of jade on which a cool fountain played. When Helium arrived the music stopped and the couples gathered in the water round the island. Helium stood up.
“Members of the Bogdanovich and Shell families, Clover and I bid you welcome. I am glad to see so many of you wearing blue today. That makes me feel less lonely in my age.” Applause greeted this but Helium held up his blunt hand and the applause died. “But to you greens and reds I bid a special welcome for it is upon your strength and pride that the future of the Conspiracy depends.” This time Helium let the applause run its natural course. “In a mere twenty years, Clover and I shall be choosing our successors and many of you will be contenders.” There were shouts and somersaults at this.
“Anyway, you haven’t come here to hear me talk all day, so, without further ado, I declare this new garden open and may you all find happiness in it.”
Helium signalled, and engineers who had been waiting for over an hour threw the switches that opened the lock gates. Slowly the gates swung open and there was a rush of water into the artificial sea. It lifted the kelp and the bobbing swimmers. With the water came darting white eels.
Those who had plotted the downfall of the Shell-Bogdanovich Conspiracy had chosen well. At this stage of their development the elvers were little more than a jaw and a stomach. Though mature Link Worms were solitary creatures and could grow to a great length, as elvers they hunted in packs. When there was no more prey they devoured one another.
They fell upon the young Shell-Bogdanovich and where they swam the water became red. Bodies screamed and twitched before being dragged under. Those that made it to the side heaved themselves up on to the rocks with the eels hanging off them. The sea garden became a cauldron.
Clover clambered up to the jade dais and stood with Helium.
Neither could comprehend what was happening.
52
ULTIMA THULE
An unnatural sound broke over Thule. Pawl had become accustomed to the silence, broken only by the gentle susurration of the wind in the bush and the patter of rain. This growl came from elsewhere. Pawl rushed out of the survival dome and peered up at the milky sky. His view was limited. Most of the sky was dominated by the vast veiny canopy of the tree, and the walls of the clearing rose sheer.
But the thunder increased and then slowly a spaceship, small for the amount of noise it made, slid into view. It was only a few hundred feet above the top of the bush.
Pawl recognized a Dragon Class ship, of the kind much in vogue among the younger members of the Families on Lotus-and-Arcadia. This ship was equipped for duelling.
The ship halted in the air and the volume of noise increased until five gravity lines probed down to the earth and found purchase. The ship settled and the noise dropped away to a whisper. Cannon located at the lateral edges of the ship pivoted and fired at the ground. Fire plumed and a dense cloud of smoke lifted and swept round the underbelly of the ship and up into the pale sky. It was a pointless show of strength.
The ship settled on to its own charred earth just a few hundred feet from Pawl’s clearing. A door irised open and a dark figure came to stand at its threshold.
“So there you are, Pawl Paxwax. I’ve found you a
t last. I’ve come to kill you.” It was Paris.
Laurel came to stand beside Pawl. “My brother?” she said wonderingly. “What brings him?”
Pawl shrugged. “He says he’s come to kill me. I think he means to fight.”
Any further talking was cut short by a call from the edge of the clearing. “Stand clear, Pawl Paxwax.” Paris emerged, dark and stealthy. He seemed to have grown. In his hand he carried an automatic particle pistol such as Pawl had once worn. “Stand away from that creature. What is it? Another of your dummies? Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about you, Pawl Paxwax.” Paris was close now.
“Why have you come here? What do you want with me? Turn round and go back to your ship. Leave us alone.”
“You killed my sister. You killed my father. Every disaster in my family can be traced to you. Now I am going to kill you.”
“Put down your gun, Paris.” It was Laurel speaking. “You can’t kill on this world.”
“Can’t I?” Paris’s tone was still confident but his hand shook. The sight of Laurel, her voice, her physical presence all undermined him. He licked his lips. “It speaks like Laurel even. What kind of magic is this?”
“No magic. Go away.” Paris raised his arm. “Will you kill me like this? Unarmed? Won’t you even give me the chance to fight?” Pawl was challenging Paris. His training on Terpsichore was coming to his aid. In a straight contest of strength Paris would win. He was undoubtedly stronger than Pawl and faster too. But Pawl had studied more. All he needed was one advantage. And if he saw that …
But Paris was not fooled. “No words, Master of Paxwax. I will kill you any way I can.” Quickly he brought his hand up and fired.
In that moment everything started to move slowly for Pawl.
He saw Paris’s finger pull the trigger. He saw the particle beam grow like a rod of silver towards him. He saw it touch his chest and spread like a breaking wave, sending him backwards. Incredibly he saw his flesh open as it received the charge and then close again like crumpled paper that is smoothed under a hand.
Laurel stepped forward and Paris fired at her, so that for a few moments she became incandescent and the grass burned round her.
Then she had Paris and she lifted him and shook him so that the gun dropped from his hand and the visor of his helmet slipped over his face. When she set him free he fell down and hugged the earth, unable to tell up from down for the moment.
He crawled away and, when he reached the edge of the clearing, stood up and set off for his ship.
Laurel laughed. “Did you think you could be harmed, Pawl Paxwax? We are on Thule now. Remember? Things are different here. Here nothing dies before its time.”
*
About an hour later Paris came back to the clearing. He sat down on the grass a few yards from Laurel and Pawl. The boy showed through the husky young man. “My ship won’t budge. Everything’s dead except the stabilizers, and they’re running down.”
He looked across at Pawl quickly. “It’s not funny. I don’t want to be stuck on this planet. I don’t suppose your ship….“ He pointed to Pawl’s survival rocket, which was already starting to rust along its inner seams.
Pawl shook his head. “It wouldn’t have enough power to get you above the trees.”
Paris’s face looked tragic. “How long before supply ships come?”
“They don’t.”
“But….”
Laurel crossed to him and crouched down by him and put her arms round him. Paris looked away from her nakedness. “Go back to your ship, my brother Paris. You cannot stay here with us. Wait until morning. Then you will leave and never return. You have a life to live beyond here.”
Paris looked at Pawl. “I hate you,” he said. “I loved my sister more than you will ever know.” Laurel touched his face and brought it round. Pawl saw Paris’s strong face soften as he looked at her. “Go now,” she said.
Paris stood up. He was obviously confused. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find or didn’t have the words to match his feelings. Finally he turned and trudged away without a backward glance. He broke into the trees at the end of the clearing and was gone.
The next morning Pawl heard the roar of Paris’s rockets. The shadow of his ship passed quickly over the clearing and its sound faded as it climbed.
Paris was gone. For him, too, his part in the story was ended.
53
ON AN
The Dragon Emperor Wong Lungli was in the Pavilion of Passing Pleasures. He had always paid close attention to his health and despite his age still managed to satisfy his favourite concubines, especially when the moons of An were in the right quarter and Tiger Bone Syrup was to hand. Now he lay back, indecent as a dog, with his legs open and the filtered sun on his thighs.
Close to him but not touching him lay Meng Shui-lin, as beautiful as a doll, with raven black hair and a mind that was as dangerous as a steel trap. While Meng retained her looks and suppleness of body no other concubine was her rival. Just now she was whispering endearments and planned to advance the name of her son for a senior military post.
While she spoke there came from outside the pavilion a sound as though someone had popped a paper bag filled with air. Such a noise was unheard of in the quiet precincts of Imperial An. Her eyebrows puckered, for the noise had distracted the Emperor from the fine tale of lasciviousness she was telling him.
Bang. Again. From a different quarter.
The emperor’s hand with its ball of nails lifted and his lips moved. The lady Meng snapped her fingers and servants, who were kneeling behind light curtains some distance from the bed, stood up and scurried to the wide door of the pavilion.
“Ai-ee,” they cried and pointed to the sky.
Bang.
Bang. Bang.
The Lady Meng wrapped a gown round her and hurried to the door. She had expected to see fireworks. She saw instead, hanging in the sky, dull black balls.
Bang. One of the black spheres appeared directly above her. It was lower than the rest. She watched it split and then open into two spheres.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sky was filling.
Bang. Bang… .
Behind Lady Meng there was a whispering. She turned and found the Dragon Emperor walking towards her, supported at the elbow by a small fat servant.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Most of the spheres had converted into the double ball configuration. Then, in one move, they split wide open and disgorged white ships, which dropped and then began to fly, spreading out across the wide flat Imperial city. The ships began to fire, cutting open the roofs of the temple and slicing through the wide city streets.
There was screaming in the distance beyond the walls of the Imperial City. Belatedly particle cannon began to stab upwards but the ships were everywhere, buzzing like white flies round offal. One of the white ships tore over the Pavilion of Passing Pleasures and screamed into a curve with all guns firing as it laid waste the yachts and barges on the inland sea.
Wong Lungli recognized the shape of the ship and knew that his attackers were the Hammer. He pushed his servants away. He pushed the Lady Meng away, instructing her to return to her home beyond the kitchens where all the concubines lived.
Then he hurried down the dragon path and out of the garden and into an avenue of Cyprus trees. Wong Lungli could run when he wanted to. Despite his years he had a loping stride which carried him down the avenue and through a circular door and into a small courtyard.
As he entered the courtyard he heard a sudden drumming and wondered what that could be. No time to stop and look. At the end of the courtyard was a tall brass door. This led through secret passages to a retreat known only to the senior fathers of the Wong. Here were kept food and water and a secret subterranean Gate. It was a secret well kept, for it was widely believed that no Gate could operate within the confines of a planet. Once through the door Wong Lungli would be safe.
Round his neck on a silver chain was a key. He had worn i
t since he was a child. Now he needed that key. He cursed his fingernails for he could not hold the small sliver of metal. Outside the giant brass doors he sat down on the tiles and began to bite at his fingernails, trying to free his fingers.
While so engaged he heard the drumming again. Very close now. And he became aware of a shadow which stretched along the garden towards him.
He looked up quickly and then could not look away. Rising up above the tile-topped wall was a giant hammer-head with a great wrinkled boss in the middle and two widespread black eyes which focused on him. He heard the drumming again.
The Hammer (Trader it was) watched as Wong Lungli staggered to his feet and then backed away along the wall. He dropped the key. He came to an alcove and dived into it. It gave on to a narrow passage which ran alongside the building with the brass doors. Behind him he heard the crunch and crash of masonry as the Hammer breasted the wall and with all legs working heaved itself over the rubble. Its sting opened and snapped shut and arched high above its hammer-head.
The Dragon Emperor was really running for his life now. When he emerged from the passage he found himself facing three open gates. One led to the Imperial harbour, and he could see other Hammer moving there among the smoke and flame. The second led back to the city, and a black pall of smoke hung there. There was no longer any firing from the ground. The final gate led up a winding path to a small pagoda on the top of an artificial hill.
He heard drumming again and ran towards the hill.
Age began to tell and he lost one of his slippers. He felt a fearful pounding in his head and did not know if it was the drumming of the creature that followed him or not. The path was uneven and he stumbled. When he climbed to his feet he heard a puffing behind him like a whale venting and a trill of drumming so close that it almost seemed to be over him.