by James White
Brian gave her a sympathetic smile but remained silent. Declan said, "We could talk about you, Brian. Or Ma'el, a man who is…"
There was the sound of dishes and eating utensils rattling as Brian slapped the tabletop. "That," he burst out, "is the inconsistency that has been nibbling at my brain. The ability to see into the future, Ma'el tells us, is the prerogative of a direct succession of women. But he is a man who has, but should not have, the gift.
"Are we sure," he added after a pause, "that he is in fact a man?"
Declan stared at him, feeling his jaw drop in surprise, and Sinead's mouth was open, too. But before either of them could speak, Brian went on, "With respect, my lady, you have already said that Ma'el treated you with kindness, protected you, and did not, well, take advantage of you as some old and dishonorable men would have done. He may be a kindly old man, but his actions where you are concerned, if he is in truth a he, are more befitting those of a kindly woman and mother. Would you agree?"
They both stared at him, too astonished to speak. Brian looked at Sinead and gave an uncomfortable laugh.
"My lady," he said, "I know the idea is completely ridiculous, so let us change to a subject less hurtful to you. How best I can help you spend the rest of this day?"
When Sinead did not reply, Declan said, "We are strangers here to whom everything is new. Go where you will and we will be pleased to follow wherever you lead."
"You speak too hastily, Declan," he replied, but his eyes were looking an apology at Sinead. "My lead would not take you to places of scenic interest or entertainment but to a museum, an establishment filled with scrolls, drawings, and relics of the past that is said to contain material salvaged from the great Alexandria Library before the fire had totally destroyed it. You would not, I think, find my search among the dusty chambers and stacks particularly interesting."
Sinead was making a determined attempt to lighten her mood. She smiled and said, "The degree of interest would depend on the object of your search. What are you searching for?"
Looking relieved and pleased, Brian returned her smile. "Knowledge," he said, "I am a seeker after knowledge but, unlike your master, I have never been averse to making a profit from whatever I learn."
An almost boyish enthusiasm crept into his voice as he went on, 'This time I am searching for the drawings, calculations, and perhaps a model of the device called an aelophile that was invented by Hero of Alexandria, a mathematician of the time of the Sixth Ptolemy. It was said to be comprised of a spherical bronze kettle mounted on and free to rotate horizontally around two metal supports. The kettle was pierced at diametrically opposed sides of its circumference by two small, short lengths of pipe that were angled in opposite directions. When it was partly filled with water and a fire lit under it, steam puffed from the two small, angled pipes and this caused the spherical kettle to spin on its supports, quite rapidly, it was said.
"Hero himself did not think much of his device at first," Brian went on, "which he insisted had been built solely to prove to himself that heat could be converted into rotary movement, but later he suggested that a larger device might be capable of pumping water or perhaps moving the wheels of chariots. When his Pharaoh witnessed a demonstration, his response was that it hissed like a nest of vipers and filled the room with steam, and that slaves and beasts could fetch water and pull vehicles much more cleanly and cheaply and that Hero should forget the idea, which he did.
"Myself I think the idea has possibilities," Brian ended defensively, "which is why I want to find the drawings and make copies of them in case my principals in Hibernia would be interested in trying out the device for use as a…"
Sinead held up a hand and looked at Declan for agreement as she said, "Now that we know what it looks like, we would be pleased to help you find it."
But in the event they did not find it, even though Brian was known to the museum curator and was given every assistance. On the way back to the harbor he seemed much less disappointed than they were, and explained that a search of that kind was time-consuming and could take many weeks or months without any certainty of a successful outcome, and added that they should not concern themselves because he did not expect them to help him search every day.
The sun had set, dusk was falling rapidly and they were about twenty paces from the ship's berth when Sinead broke a long silence. There was not enough light to show her expression clearly, but her voice sounded strangely adult and very serious when she spoke.
"Brian," she said, "I hope you don't think me impertinent or needlessly inquisitive about your personal affairs, but are you a wealthy man? Do you really need to travel the world doing this very dangerous work? Would it not be more sensible and safer for you if you returned to Hibernia and enjoyed your wealth and reputation in comfort instead of continually risking your life?"
"It would indeed be sensible and safer," he replied, his teeth showing dimly in a smile. "But I would soon grow bored with that life and tire of endlessly recounting my adventures, and my friends would soon tire of listening to me. This style of life is unsafe, but interesting, and if…"
He stopped suddenly in his tracks so that Sinead and Declan had to turn back to him. In a troubled voice he said, "Have you found Ma'el gift at last? Can you see into my future, and are you warning me?"
"No. Yes. Perhaps," Sinead replied in confusion. After a moment she went on, "With respect, Brian, I have come to know you as a likable and learned rogue who lives and avoids death by your wits. I do not foresee the time and manner of your death, whether it be due to drowning at sea, the violence of enemies, or a foreign plague, but I strongly advise that when next you return to Hibernia you should stay there.
"It may not be a prediction," she ended in an embarrassed voice, "but a simple feeling of concern for a wayward friend in need of good advice."
"I rarely take good advice," said Brian, sounding relieved. "But for your concern, my lady, I thank you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ma'el Report. Day 112,954…
It is now sixty-three days since we unshipped my vehicle and left Alexandria to join a caravan bound for the Orient along the dusty, unpaved, and often sand-obliterated track that the natives, who are wont to use poetic license rather than accuracy in their descriptions of the local environment, so lyrically refer to as the Golden Road to Samarkand. Because of the heat, windblown sand, and insects I remain in the wagon, telling my servants that I need time to think and I am not to be disturbed unless an emergency arises. Since Sinead and Declan have been given custody of the chart with basic instructions in its use, such interruptions are few. But the thinking that I am free to do is neither positive nor constructive, and the process is being worsened by an increasing physical debility that I suspect may have a psychological basis.
"I am becoming increasingly prey to self-doubts regarding my mental and physical ability to complete this investigation. My insistence that I be severed from all but the most tenuous contact with the Commonality-ostensibly so that I could concentrate on my work without interruption but in reality, as they must already have realized, to avoid my every decision being scrutinized and debated endlessly by a Synodal committee-was perhaps too academically arrogant and overconfident on my part. I am not yet ready to discontinue this investigation, but 1 did not realize that complete isolation from our people would adversely affect my Taelon faculties to this extent.
"My timesight becomes less trustworthy with each passing day, yet I urgently need a view into near-future events. That is why the decision was taken to induce this faculty in the Earth species so that they, however imperfectly, will be able to provide me with the operating data and foresightings that I need. This is an action that will certainly draw censure from the Synod, and regrettably the result has been a failure where success was most needed.
"Following repeated cranial stimulation the female Sinead, who as my servant would have been the ideal local access window to the future, has proved to be an unsuitable candidate fo
r precognition. Reluctant as I am to do so, for 1 have formed a liking for this servant, if I am not to remain completely blind to future events on this world it is imperative that I acquire another female who can be given the timesight…"
–
Because they were driving the only horse-drawn vehicle in a caravan of forty-three heavily laden camels and were expected to be the slowest of the company, they had been assigned the position at the end of the line. There the plodding feet of the beasts and the small contingent of foot guards ahead of them stirred up a constant cloud of dust that settled in thick layers on their clothing and tried to penetrate the narrow openings of the voluminous head wrappings to get into their eyes. When the wind was in the wrong quarter, as it was now, the smell of the camels was horrendous.
"You've a horse and are free to go where you like," said Sinead in a sarcastic voice from the driving bench. "Why don't you ride out bravely, cloak streaming out behind you in the wind, and scout the surrounding desert so as to warn us of a possible attack?"
Before setting out, Ma'el had provided Declan with a handsome white Arabian stallion who was smaller and perhaps half the age of the gray mare who was pulling the wagon. Once he had learned how to mount and ride it he had found that it was surefooted and could move like the wind. Right now the temptation to exercise his lovely mount was great, but in spite of Sinead's words he knew that that was not what she really wanted him to do.
Declan had discovered long since that she liked company in her misery.
"Does the chart show any signs of us being followed?" he asked. "Or of an ambush being laid between here and the caravanserai, or an attack developing on our flanks?"
"In order," she replied, "no, no, and I'm not sure."
"Let me see it," said Declan. He dismounted quickly, tied the reins loosely to one of the wagon shafts, and jumped up beside her.
The chart showed the land surface that lay within a day's march in every direction, and the morning sun was still close enough to the horizon for it to reveal the shadows between hills, dunes, and major surface irregularities around them. It also showed the long finger of windblown dust that was their caravan, and far to the north of the line of hills that lay ahead of them, a smaller and rounder cloud.
Declan pointed to it. "What's that?"
'That," she replied, "is what I'm not sure about."
"Let's have a closer look," he said, and tapped at the group of small and almost invisible circles on the lower corner of the chart. Immediately the picture slipped away to one side and shrank until the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea came into view. Declan swore in self-irritation.
"I'm a ham-fisted amadan." he said.
"That you are," she replied. Her tapping fingers, thinner and almost as delicate as Ma'el's, quickly brought the picture back to the area they wanted.
"That round cloud could be due to wind eddies among the dunes," she went on, "if it wasn't for the fact that whatever is causing it is not moving in the direction of the wind. Do you want a closer view?"
"Please," said Declan.
Suddenly the dust cloud, looking tenuous and in places almost transparent at close range, was almost filling the chart. On the windward side it was seeded with the tiny points of darker gray made by small groups of men on foot and with larger and longer shadows that indicated the presence of camels or horses. He estimated their strength at between sixty to seventy men, ten horses, and four camels. As he watched two of the long shadows moved ahead of the main group and separated to form tiny dust clouds of their own.
"Can you expand the picture to show individuals," he asked, "and the weapons they are carrying?"
"No," Sinead replied. "If I magnify it too much everything begins to wobble like stones under running water."
"Then pull back to the original size," Declan said, disappointed, "and call Ma'el at once. He must be told about this."
Sinead hesitated. "I'm not being contrary just because it's you who's giving me orders," she said, "but I'd rather not. Ma'el told me not to rouse him unless it was an emergency, and these people are still a long way off. Can we handle this matter ourselves?"
Rather than give a short answer that would be sure to cause an argument, Declan decided to explain the situation as he saw it and let it speak for itself. His index finger moved about the chart as he spoke.
"I believe this to be a large party of desert raiders who will intersect the caravan track just here, where we would be hemmed-in between this broken ground to the south and the hills to the north, which would also hide the attack from the lookouts in the caravanserai. Unless there is a traitor among the merchants' servants, the raiders cannot know that we are so close to them and are probably intending to ambush the first caravan that comes along. I don't know if their number is enough for them to capture the entire caravan, so they may be content with cutting out the tail, which will probably be the last thirty or forty camels and, of course, our wagon, while the forward section flees for the safety of the caravanserai. We can't drive off the raiders unaided…"
"No?" she said impishly, looking at his long-axe.
"No," he said firmly, "not even if they lined up and came at me one at a time. Be serious. I can't ask the caravan merchants to divert to the south to try to avoid the ambush because only a few of them speak Latin, and 1 would have trouble making them obey me or even believe how I learned of the danger. So the only course is for the wagon to slow down and detach itself from the caravan while I head for the caravanserai. If the raider scouts should see you they will think that the wagon has broken down and leave it to rob at their leisure, and by that time I will be back with the caravanserai soldiers to drive off the…"
"Quite apart from them not understanding a word you say," said Sinead, checking him with an upraised hand, "do you really think that the soldiers, or the few who know Latin, will do such a thing just because you ask them?*'
Declan shook his head and said, "Yes, they will. The merchants pay the officers of the garrison a fee, but only for the camels that pass through the area in safety and with their loads intact, not those that have been robbed. Besides, I will offer gold to ensure the safety of this wagon first, and then more for their help in turning back the raiders. I don't know how or where Ma'el gets it, but he never seems to be short of gold, and I believe that he would honor any promise of payment I made.
"I think you should call him as soon as you can," he ended firmly. "This is an emergency."
Before she could reply, the curtain of skins behind the driving bench twitched aside and Ma'el said, "I agree."
The old man's voice sounded weak and tired and carried in it the impatient tone of one whose thinking on another subject has been interrupted. And again he used words the meaning of which they could only guess at.
"Your viewpoint alterations in the chart were repeated on my monitor screen," he said, "and your conversation regarding them was overheard so that there is no need to repeat yourselves. The strategy and tactics suggested by Declan are approved. However, while my timesight is untrustworthy at present, I have an unsupported feeling that there will be a greater chance of success if the communications difficulties that Sinead has already mentioned are removed."
While he was speaking, Ma'el drew two ear decorations from an inner fold in his cloak, followed by two wide collars. They were finely worked in bright metal and identical to the earpiece and collar he himself was wearing.
'These are valuable charms," he went on quickly, placing them on top of the chart, "devices whose use is normally restricted to members of my own race, and which to others will appear only as body decorations. Wear them as I am wearing mine. The earpieces will enable you to hear any words said to you, in whatever language or dialect that is in local use, as if they were in your own native tongue. The collars will convert the words you speak into the languages of those around you. Both of you, follow these instructions without delay."
Sinead nodded and pulled back her burnoose. "Like the chart,"
she said in an awed voice, "this is very powerful magic."
"It is magic," said Ma'el impatiently, "because as yet you do not understand how or why it works."
"Wait, please," Declan said as the old man turned to reenter the wagon. "I understand your instructions, but not why you wear these ornaments when we already know that you speak perfect Gaelic, Latin, and who knows how many other tongues besides. Surely you don't need them."
Ma'el paused to touch his collar before he replied, 'Think before you ask a question, Declan, and you may find that you do not need to ask it or that it has already been answered. I do not now, have not and have no wish to speak and understand Gaelic, Latin, or any other of your languages for the reason that there are too many of them to learn even in my long lifetime. I speak, through this collar only in my native Taelon language. It is you, and everyone else who listens to me, who hears it in the words of their own language."
As Ma'el was turning to re-enter the wagon's interior he paused for a moment. His voice had lost its impatience and sounded gentle and almost sad when he spoke.
"You embark on a difficult task, Declan," he said, "and the lives of Sinead and yourself will depend on its successful outcome. Regrettably my timesight is untrustworthy and I am unable to forecast what this outcome will be. So use your mind and your skills, and act in calmness and not when you are in the grip of strong emotion. Remember that you know more about the situation we face than any others that you will meet, and act with the confidence this knowledge gives you. And if you have a personal god who might provide you with an invisible means of support, ask this entity to grant you good fortune."
Sinead watched Declan intently, her eyes being the only feature visible through the narrow opening in her burnoose, but neither of them spoke as he remounted and she slowed the wagon. The caravan master would probably send someone back to ask why she was doing such a stupid thing, and with the help of her new ear ornament and collar she would be able to tell him a credible story. Quickly he removed his cumbersome burnoose, rolled it up tightly, and tossed it to Sinead. For the rest of the day he would be moving fast and leaving his dust behind him rather than riding into that stirred up by others, and his helmet, suncloth, and cloak were all the protection he needed. Still without speaking he raised his hand in farewell and gave his beautiful Arab stallion its head.