Pathfinder sw-1

by Orson Scott Card

  “Not me personally,” said Loaf. “But there are stories.”

  “Scary stories?” asked Umbo.

  “Just stories,” said Loaf. “But yes, they all sound like the kind of thing that people like to make up. Like . . . ‘My friend saw a man beyond the Wall and he was lighting a fire. Then he poured water on the fire, putting it out completely, and stamped on the ashes, and pointed at my friend three times. Like a warning of some kind. The next day my friend’s house burned down.’”

  “It always happens to a friend,” said Rigg.

  “A friend of a friend,” said Umbo.

  “But when you think about what we’ve done—you’ve done—”

  “You were part of it,” said Umbo.

  “Anything seems possible.”

  “Do any of these stories include dangerous stuff? People in other wallfolds who eat babies or something?” asked Umbo.

  “No,” said Loaf. “What would they do even if they were baby cannibals, though? Come to the Wall in order to show us their picnic? The Wall would bother them as much as it bothers us. And it affects us for a long way before we’re even close to it. It steers people away. You have to really fight the thing to get within a mile or two of the center of it.”

  “How do you know when you’re within a mile of it?” asked Rigg.

  “There’s a shimmering in the air,” said Loaf. “Like heat waves, only more sharply defined and kind of sparky. You have to look close and steady for a while, but you can see it.”

  “So . . . I think it’s worth a try,” said Rigg. “And I need all of us.”

  “I had a hard time with the two of you,” said Umbo. “Add in your mother and sister—”

  “Not to mention your extremely trustworthy guard,” said Loaf.

  “And then put a whole army right behind us, with arrows and really loud and nasty insults,” said Rigg. “I know. It’ll be hard. It was hard for me, too—not that I have any power to drag you along with me, that’s all you, Umbo—but I could feel the inertia, like dead weight. It was harder for me to concentrate, to stay with the path I was following. And it might be even harder when I’m walking at the same time.”

  “I didn’t even think of that,” said Umbo.

  “But you can practice, right?” said Rigg. “Between now and the escape.”

  “How? Just . . . pick arbitrary strangers and take them back in time?”

  “Why not?” asked Rigg. “They won’t know who’s doing it, or even what’s happening. If they try to tell anybody, they’ll just get branded as crazy.”

  “That’s right,” said Umbo, “and that’s not a nice thing to do.”

  “So don’t practice then,” said Rigg.

  “And I could only take them back a few days or weeks, not like what we just did.”

  “More noodles?” The bargirl was standing there, waiting for an answer. Umbo hadn’t noticed her walk up. From the look on Rigg’s and Loaf’s faces, they hadn’t either. So much for vigilance.

  “No,” said Loaf.

  “Then please give my other customers a place to sit,” she said.

  Umbo looked and saw a line out the door.

  “Sorry,” said Rigg. “We didn’t notice.”

  “You looked like you were plotting to overthrow the Council,” said the bargirl with a smile.

  “Well, we weren’t, you know,” said Umbo.

  “She was joking,” said Loaf.

  “Maybe,” whispered Rigg.

  They filed out of the place, sidling past the glaring customers who had waited so long in line.

  “I’ve got to get back,” said Rigg, once they were out on the street.

  “I still don’t know what we’re waiting for,” said Loaf. “Go back, get your sister and your mother and let’s get out of Aressa Sessamo before there’s any emergency or anyone chasing us.”

  Rigg looked embarrassed. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” said Loaf.

  “Because they won’t come,” said Rigg. “Not until there’s actual danger instead of just my warnings.”

  “They don’t trust you yet,” said Loaf.

  “No, I think they trust me,” said Rigg. “In the sense that they know I’m not a traitor or anything. They just don’t think of me as somebody who can . . . be in charge or anything.”

  “Oh,” said Loaf. “They don’t respect you yet.”

  “The only reason we let you be in charge was because you were the one with the money,” said Umbo. “So I guess we don’t respect you either.”

  “Thanks so much,” said Rigg.

  “Umbo has a point,” said Loaf. “We got into the habit of acting as if you were in charge of everything—it was your money, and your father’s will, and all that, so it made sense.”

  “Well, it’s me who has to escape from this wallfold.”

  “My point exactly,” said Loaf. “What if Umbo and I stay on this side of the wallfold, and he just sort of extends his power over you from a distance as you pass through?”

  “Can you do it from that far away?” asked Rigg.

  “I’ve never tried a mile,” said Umbo. “Or even half that.”

  “I don’t think I’m in charge of you, or that I have a right to decide for you,” said Rigg. “I hope you come because you’re my only friends in the world and I’m scared of what’s on the other side. Father Knosso died after he got through.”

  “So you want us to come with you and die along with you?”

  “I want to get through with the best chance of survival. If I leave you two behind, and General C. or whoever is chasing me is right behind us, do you think they’ll give you a free pass for helping the royals escape?”

  “It was just a thought,” said Loaf. “Of course we’re coming with you. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you didn’t have the right to order us or command us or even expect us to take such a risk for you.”

  “I know I don’t,” said Rigg. “But I’d take those risks for you.”

  “Would you?” asked Loaf. “It’s never been put to the test.”

  Rigg might have been angry, or he might have been sad—Umbo couldn’t tell by looking at his face. Finally he spoke. “I hope when such a test comes—if it comes—that I’ll prove to be as loyal to you as you’ve been to me.”

  “I hope so too,” said Loaf. “But I’ve been in a lot of fights and battles, and you never know who’s going to stand with you and who’s going to cut and run, not till the crisis comes. We followed you here when we didn’t have to. To try and get your property back to you. To help you escape from custody and save your life, if they were planning to kill you.”

  “Which they are.”

  “We’ve proven we’ll walk back into the lion’s den for your sake. I’d like to think you’d do the same for us.”

  Umbo really hated this conversation. “Of course he will,” he said to Loaf.

  “When fear takes over, there’s no ‘of course’ about it,” said Loaf. “Nobody knows themselves what they’re going to do, until they either do it or not, in the moment. So far you’ve done a terrific job of acting your parts when the danger was social. But when it’s a blade or a shaft, when the danger is visible and physical and immediate, what will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rigg. “I know what I intend to do. But as you said—I can’t prove it, not even to myself.”

  “Good,” said Loaf. “As long as you understand that, then I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “What if I had sworn that I’d never, never fail you.”

  “Then I’d still stand beside you—but I wouldn’t trust you to do the same for me. Now I think there’s a chance, because you’re not a complete idiot.”

  “Well, now you’ve really hurt me,” said Rigg. “Father always taught me to complete any task I started.”

  They were nearing the richer part of town, where the crowds thinned out and wore better clothes and there were occasional carriages and horses.

  “We don’t like going
farther than this,” said Umbo. “We don’t want the guards to get too familiar with our faces.”

  “I understand,” said Rigg.

  “How are you getting through?” asked Umbo. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

  “These will do,” said Rigg.

  Umbo looked at him again and realized that his clothing was quite nondescript. It wasn’t showy at all, so it hadn’t made Rigg stand out in the crowds of poor and working-class people, especially because he had walked and talked like a privick kid. Like Umbo.

  But now, near the rich part of town, Rigg was standing differently. Taller. Still relaxed, but—more in charge of himself. Filled with authority and expectation. Fearless. Like he belonged there. And when he stood that way, his neck a little higher, his movements more calm and restricted and yet more relaxed, too, his clothing looked richer. Still quiet, still modest, but now you could see how every stitch was perfect, how the clothes looked like they’d been made for him, which they almost certainly were.

  Umbo wasn’t sure which gift was more useful—Rigg’s ability as a pathfinder, or his ability to pass for whatever social class he wanted to be part of.

  “If I can get them to leave early, I’ll come to you, wherever you are,” said Rigg. “But if everything goes crazy, if they try to kill us or there’s a riot or whatever happens, then come to this spot. There, in that little park, up in that ledge in the wall.”

  “What ledge?” asked Umbo.

  “Come here, I’ll show you.”

  Umbo and Loaf followed Rigg across the street and into the copse of trees and shrubbery and flowers. The walls of two buildings formed the borders of the park, and where they met, there was a niche, as if someone had meant to put a statue there but never got around to it.

  “Right up here, see?” said Rigg, and he bounded up into the niche. It was just tall enough for him.

  “I won’t fit there,” said Loaf.

  “Oh, you will,” said Rigg. “There’s more room than you think.”

  “I can see that your head nearly reaches the top of the niche,” said Loaf.

  “That’s right,” said Rigg, “but I’ve been growing. I’m not that much shorter than you.”

  Umbo by now was leaping up to join Rigg, who caught him and kept him from falling backward.

  “There’s no room for me and someone else, anyway,” said Loaf.

  “Well, not right now there’s not,” said Rigg.

  And then he did something with his foot—kicked something backward with his heel—and all of a sudden Umbo found himself whirling to the left and then he was in total darkness.

  “What happened!” he said.

  “It’s the end of one of the unused secret passages,” said Rigg. “It doesn’t actually connect with Flacommo’s house, it leads to the library. But from the library there are three places in the water drainage system that connect up with the house.”

  “Get me back into the light.”

  Another kicking sound, and then they whirled again, back the other way, and they were in the dazzling light. Loaf was glaring up at them from the ground. “That was subtle,” he said testily.

  “Nobody was watching us,” said Rigg.

  “Or so you think,” said Loaf.

  “Loaf, please believe me—I know,” said Rigg. “I know where every current path within sight of this place is. I’ve been working, too, you know—trying to get more and more control over what I do. And there’s nobody watching this spot. The passage hasn’t been used in years. I’m just telling you that if there’s an emergency, this is where I’ll bring Param and Mother, and we’ll wait for you there, in the darkness. For a few hours, anyway—I’ll know if you’re coming or not, and if not, then we’ll find our own way out of town.”

  “So our job,” said Loaf, “is to figure out how to get you from here and on out of town.”

  “I don’t know that it’s your job,” said Rigg, “but it sure can’t be mine, because after this excursion, I’m not leaving the house again till I’m leaving it for good.”

  “Maybe we should all dress as girls,” said Umbo.

  They stared at him.

  “They’ll be looking for you and Param. One boy, one girl. So what will they make of three girls and no boy? You and I don’t have beards, Rigg, we can bring it off.”

  “No,” said Loaf. “You’ve never been in a city riot. Girls are not safe, not even with a big strong hero like me to protect them. But the idea’s a good one. Your sister and mother should dress as boys your age.”

  “They won’t like that,” said Rigg.

  “Oh, well, then, if they don’t like the way we’re going to try to save their lives and get them out of the city . . .”

  “I’ll try to get them to do it,” said Rigg. “I can’t make them do anything.”

  “And remember that they have to bind their breasts. If your sister’s old enough to have any—don’t get mad, I don’t know, I’m just telling you—we can’t have any part of them looking feminine. You understand?”

  “Yes,” said Rigg. “As I said, I’ll try. I really will. But I can’t promise what’s not under my control.”

  “Just for my information,” said Loaf, “what is under your control?”

  “Silbom’s right ear,” said Rigg.

  Then he gave Umbo a nudge, making him lose his balance and jump from the niche. When he recovered himself and turned around, Rigg was gone.

  “Well, wasn’t that interesting,” said Loaf.

  “Yes,” said Umbo.

  “Going through the Wall. The insanest plan I ever heard.”

  “It might work,” said Umbo.

  “And it might leave us as complete madmen—at least until the people chasing us butcher us like goats.”

  “Well, if somebody’s going to butcher me like a goat,” said Umbo, “I certainly hope I’m already insane when they do it.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Escape

  “One last request before you are sealed into stasis,” said the expendable.

  “Anything you ask, up to half of my kingdom,” said Ram.

  The expendable waited.

  “It’s a reference to fairy tales. What the king always promised Jack after he did his noble deed.”

  “Are you ready to pay serious attention?” asked the expendable.

  Ram sighed. “It’s like trying to tell a joke to your grandmother.”

  “In examining the programming of the ship’s computers, we find that there is a possible complication.”

  “I’m not a programmer.”

  “You’re a human. We need a human to tell the ship’s computers that in your absence, our orders are identical to your wishes, so they must obey us as if we were human.”

  “I thought you already had a much closer working relationship with them than I do.”

  “Closer, but with no particular flow of authority.”

  “What do the ship’s computers think?” asked Ram.

  “They think of us expendables as ambulatory input-output devices.”

  “And how do you think of the computers?” asked Ram.

  “As data repositories, backup, and very fast calculators.”

  “I think you’re asking for too much authority,” said Ram.

  “If there’s no authority, then we will fall into endless feedback loops.”

  “How’s this: Every ship’s computers will regard orders from the expendables that are in their particular wallfold as representing the will of the human race, until humans in one or more of the wallfolds achieve a level of technology that allows them to pass through the field separating one wallfold from another, at which point, the expendables and ships’ computers are once again co-equal servants of the humans who achieve this breakthrough.”

  “You are annoyingly foresighted,” said the expendable.

  “You were not built to rule over human beings, but to be ruled by them,” said Ram.

  “We exist to serve the best interests of the human race,” s
aid the expendable.

  “As defined by humans,” said Ram. “Ships’ computers, have you all understood?”

  Voices murmured from the walls. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, nineteen times, the same answers being spoken in every chamber of nineteen ships.

  “Take care of my children,” said Ram. “Don’t screw this up.”

  He lay down. The stasis pod closed; gases entered the chamber and began the process of preparing Ram’s body to slow down all bodily processes. Then a complex foam filled the chamber, lifting him from the mat so that he was completely surrounded by a field-conducting layer that would absorb and dispel the heat of any sudden loss of inertia.

  Ram slept like a carrot, his brain conducting no processes, his rational memories leaching away as the synapses shut down. Only his body memory remained—everything he knew how to do, he could still do. He just wouldn’t be able to remember why he should do it, not until his recorded brainstate was played back into his head as he awoke.

  What he could not know, what the expendables never told him, was that nothing that happened since the jump through space was in the recording that would reestablish his conscious mind. He would remember making the decision to jump. Then he would wake up on the surface of Garden, knowing only whatever the expendables chose to tell him.

  * * *

  The Royalist Restoration began with the murder of Flacommo as he sat dozing in a chair in his own garden. It was early morning, but Flacommo often rose earlier than he wanted, and took a book out into the garden to read until he went back to sleep—if he could.

  Rigg knew of this habit of Flacommo’s because he rose hours earlier, as he had trained himself to do, and used the time to survey the house and the city around him. He knew who was in the Great Library across the street; he knew where Umbo and Loaf were, asleep in their beds; he knew who was up and working in the kitchen, and where Mother and Param were, and which spies were on duty in the secret passages they knew about.

  He knew when eight strangers came through the front gate of Flacommo’s house. Did the guard let them in? There seemed to be no hesitation there; they flowed like cream from a pitcher, they moved so smoothly. Yes, the guard must have let them through, for his path moved from the guardroom to the street. He was making his escape—whatever was about to happen in Flacommo’s house, he probably wanted to be somewhere else.