Beyond the Gate of Worlds

by Robert Silverberg

  “May you not come to regret this,” said Sathale with a trace of inner satisfaction. “I am fortunate in my subjects.”

  There was a moment of silence at the table.

  Then Akando spoke. “What of the High Gods, True Inca? We are going beyond our mountains, beyond our clans. We decry that the False Inca has made foreign alliances, and yet we seek the same thing.”

  It was a question that none of the others had dared to raise. Everyone looked at Sathale.

  “The High Gods know that we are not profaning them or corrupting the clans. We have given them sacrifice and will again until it is certain that we will not be conquered by my cousin Helaoku.”

  “What if the Maoris expect marriage as a symbol of the treaty?” asked Akando, disapproval in every line of his body. “You are True Inca. There is no reason for you to accept a Maori into your clan. ’ ’

  “They haven’t yet spoken with us; there is no reason to suppose they will do that. In fact, we don’t know if they will permit us to deal with them in any way. To anticipate such a demand is . . . premature.”

  “And if they do,” said Bemosetu, “what will you say? ’

  Sathale half-rose from his chair. “I am true to the High Gods. ” It was no answer, but no one challenged him. ^ "i •: ~

  “Of course, of course,” said Dyami hastily.

  “No one doubts that,” Pathoain said.

  “Very well,” said Sathale. “I’ll want to know how soon the ships can be made ready for the journey. I’ll want three to be ready, and while they are gone, I’ll want more sea-going ships built, so that we won’t be so ill-prepared a second time.”

  Now Ouninu spoke up at last, reluctantly. He had listened with a falling heart, knowing that much of what was asked would not be possible in the time the True Inca expected it. “We cannot carry enough fuel to cross the Western Ocean on the power of the engines. We will have to use all the sails as well.”

  “Very well,” said Sathale. “If this is as hazardous as you suggest, order the sails to be made; all the weavers and seamsters in the Rat clan in Algoma are to be put to work on the project if that is necessary in order to have the sails ready for the departure.” He glanced at Ilatha and added, “You’ll have to make sails for the kites, as well, for there will need to be at least one tethered kite aloft throughout the journey. ’ ’

  “As you wish,” Ouninu said.

  Sathale rose. Immediately every other man in the room did so too. “I’ll return to inspect again in twenty days. I will want to see great progress. ’ ’

  “The Whale clan will start to improve the ships at once,” said Pallatu. “You have only to choose which three are to make the journey, and they will be given first attention.”

  “My orders will be announced before sundown,” Sathale said.

  The men made obeisance as the Inca passed out of the private chamber.

  “If the False Inca gets wind of this before we are ready, who knows what will come of it?” said Dyami to Pathoain as they followed Sathale through the Great Ocean Hall.

  “Then we must pray that it will not happen,” said Pathoain.

  Three cups of bitter beer were set out on the elaborate tray, though no one had tasted the drink. Sathale sat facing the stranger, the leader of the Tortoise clan on the low bench beside him, wide-set eyes narrowed to slits. For once Sathale looked older than his thirty-one years. “How much do you demand of me, then?”

  “Double the amount you offered,” said the stranger.

  His accent was filled with the abrupt sounds of the north. “I am taking the greatest risk; it is fitting that I have a commensurate reward. Who knows when you might decide to throw me to the gods? Or, if these negotiations fail, my masters might tear my heart out.” “Very well. Imhuro, give him another full measure of gold.” The True Inca stared at the loose feather vest the stranger wore. “Aren’t you afraid that your clothes will give you away? No one wears such garments here.” “Of course not,” said the stranger, who answered to Llotl, though it was not his name. “But they know I’m from the north don’t they? I don’t look as you do, I don’t speak as you do, so it’s useless of me to try to pretend I am one of you. If I were to attempt to blend with you, I’d be recognized in a moment. This way, there is nothing to recognize. Sometimes the best disguise is no disguise. Therefore, I have no reason not to wear this vest.” He held out his hand as Imhuro offered a second pouch. “That’s good,” he said as he weighed the pouch in his hand. “Very good.”

  “If you carry out your orders, I’ll reward you when you return.”

  “If I bring word from my country, and you have the answer you want,” Llotl corrected. “That is Understood.” He tied the pouches to his belt and rubbed his hands together “It is understood, isn’t it? It would be easy for you to deny me, or to order me into prison.” “Not if you bring me word from your ruler, quickly and without detection.” The True Inca tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair.

  Llotl gestured abruptly. “They say you are a perfect man. True Inca. If that is the case, then you can be perfect in treach— . . . statecraft.” His correction was so smooth and his smile so practiced that Sathale was convinced the insult was calculated.

  “You would be advised to remember it,” Imhuro said. He rested his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “If you betray us, we’ll know of it. And you will pay for it.”

  “Why would I betray you?” Llod asked. He patted the concealed pouches of gold. “I’ll leave before dawn tomorrow. I will be away from here by the end of the day. You will have word from me before the agreed date.”

  “We had better,” said Imhuro when Sathale did not speak.

  Llotl barked a single laugh and turned toward the side door.

  When he was gone, Imhuro said, “He’s not trustworthy. ’ ’

  “Who is?” Sathale asked, reaching for his cup. “Surely not I.” He finished the beer in two quick swallows and reached for Llotl’s untouched cup. “I’m worse than any of the others. ’ ’

  Imhuro shook his head. “You’re trying to save us. It must be done. The Four High Priests would disagree, but what else do you expect of priests? They don’t know how great the danger is from the False Inca of the Green Banner, once he sends more troops into the Flatlands.” His use of the contemptuous word for the Lands of the False Inca stung Sathale.

  “They are worthy foe,” he snapped. “Don’t speak of them that way. ’ ’

  “Your pardon,” said Imhuro without emotion.

  Sathale finished the second cup of beer and stared up at the fine lamps that glimmered around the room. “They’ll be stronger than we are, Imhuro. Once the

  False Inca of the Green Banner sends soldiers, they’ll be much stronger than we are. I have to stop them. Nothing else is as important as that. ”

  “What if Llotl fails you?” Imhuro suggested. “You’ve given him enough gold to buy passage to Russia and leave him money for land.”

  “He won’t fail me. He’s greedy, I grant you that, but his delight is in power. He’ll do my bidding because he’ll gain more power than money from it.”

  “And you are satisfied with such a tool?” Imhuro demanded.

  “Of course not. What Inca is pleased with a spy?” He smiled. “But I have to employ them. It’s necessary. I don’t want to lose those ships, either, but we must if they are to accomplish their purposes ’ ’

  Imhuro rubbed his chin. “There is no other way?” “None that I can see.” The True Inca sighed. “It will be a great loss to the Whales; at least there are only four Spiders going with the ships, and they’re youngsters; that’s something.”

  “Is there any chance they might actually reach the islands of the Maoris?”

  “Of course not,” the True Inca said. He gnawed at his lower lip, scarcely noticing it when it started to bleed.

  Apenimon and Tulapa faced Meliwa, both of them trying valiantly to look older than seventeen.

  “So you’re the twin flyers we’re t
o take across the ocean,” Meliwa said. It was impossible to tell if he was pleased or angry.

  “Our father has told us that we and our younger brother Iyestu are to be ready to sail with you,” said Tblapa. “Iyestu has taken schooling for two years and will go up next month. We’ve—my twin and I—been trained for watching passes, and we all have experience with untethered kites as well as the tethered ones. I rode out a storm last summer, and all that happened is that one of the sails of the kite got ripped.” He patted his chest. “I wasn’t afraid.”

  This boast evoked a scowl from Apenimon, who had been on the ground when the tempest had closed in. “I’ve ridden on an untethered kite from the Teeth of the Gods to Machu Picchu. I landed twice during the journey. ’ ’

  “Quite a lot of experience for youngsters,” said Meliwa.

  “Our father enrolled us as soon as the Spider clan would permit us to go aloft,” said Apenimon. “I wanted to go earlier, but there are rules.”

  “Our youngest brother will be taken as an apprentice for the ftmicular railway,” added TUlapa. “He’ll start in a year.”

  “There is a fourth brother?” Meliwa asked.

  “Nigantu,” said Apenimon. “He wants to be a priest. He’s already filed petitions to be permitted to leave the Spider clan so that he can enter the priests’ school.” The two boys exchanged looks.

  “You are not pleased to have one of your family become a priest?” asked Meliwa. He sat at his enormous writing table, watching Ilatha’s twin sons with growing interest.

  “Well, he’ll have to leave the Spider clan, won’t he? Then where is the pride for the rest of us? If he becomes one of the Four High Priests, he enters the Sun clan.” Tiilapa tried to shrug, but the movement was quick and graceless. “He is determined to do it, and that’s what he will do.”

  “All your family seems determined,” said Meliwa, getting up and coming toward the two young Spiders. “You probably know our journey has never been tried before, and that there is great risk.”

  “Our greatest pride is with our greatest risk,” Tblapa said, his chest expanding.

  It was difficult not to laugh, but Meliwa, who had sons of his own, managed to keep his expression severe. “I see. And when you’re on a tethered kite and the wind is howling and you are beyond the sight of land in any direction, what then? Do you think your pride will sustain you? Or your younger brother?”

  “I think the High Gods will sustain us,” said Apenimon.

  “And you?” Meliwa said to TYilapa.

  He showed his reckless smile. “I will offer a young llama, to be sure they do.”

  At the border between the east and west Incan lands, a party of soldiers wholly unfamiliar to the west Incan guards attacked a trading fort, killing most of the men there and taking all women as their slaves. News spread along the border passes, bringing panic to many of them. Members of the Llama clan demanded armed escorts and double watches.

  Sathale heard the news with growing fury when the kite guard was brought to him and the Four High Priests for judgment.

  “You saw them coming, you say?” the Inca asked, as the slender, large-chested Spider clan guard collapsed in shame before him.

  “I saw them, but there was nothing warlike. They came on horses, not with the engines that the False Inca has used before. They were strangers, men from the lands across the Eastern Ocean. They looked . . . funny, with stripes on their clothes and peculiar hats on their heads. I warned only that strangers were approaching. That was all I was supposed to do. They ... I did not suspect they wanted ...” His voice trailed away.

  The True Inca leaned back. “They came without engines?”

  “Horses, True Inca, only horses.”

  Pathoain said, “You have ordered already that peaceful travelers are not to be detained or mistreated. How was the guard to recognize the danger of these men? * ’

  “How, yes, how,” mused Sathale.

  The guard wailed, clapping his hands over his face.

  Sathale gestured to the men of the Raven clan who held him. “Release him. He will do no more harm.

  ‘7 would have known to give the alert,” said the senior Raven officer.

  “Nonsense,” cut in Akando. “Suppose the foreigners had been nothing more than a peaceful party of travelers, perhaps carrying messages for the True Inca, and you, in your zeal, caused them inconvenience or trouble. You would dishonor the True Inca. Because you Ravens are soldiers, you’d like all the people of the True Inca to be as pugnacious as you are. But even you admit we are not prepared to war with the False Inca.” He turned toward the guard on the floor. “You have not brought dishonor on yourself or on the Spider clan. You have done what you were sworn to do. The High Gods will not hold you accountable for the fall of the fort.”

  “Still,” Sathale said, “we’d better tell the other Spiders on guard at the passes. If Helaoku attempts this once, he is apt to do it again. We’ll suffer if we are not prepared. ’ ’

  Bemosetu spoke up, addressing Sathale with con-cem. “The Spider clan will have to put more guards aloft. We will need a patrol of untethered kites going the length of the Spine of the World, stopping to report regularly along the way.” He looked at Pathoain. “If you had not refused to have a third telegraph station built, we might have a better warning system now. I still believe that we’ll have to put telegraph lines to all the pass forts.”

  “And every time the wind blows or there’s an avalanche or heavy snows, the lines will be down and we’ll be more exposed than before,” the First High Priest countered.

  “If Chesmupa had been guided by a First Priest like you,” said Bemosetu angrily, “we’d still be using runners instead of the funicular railway, and where would we be?”

  “That’s a different matter entirely,” Pathoain said, glaring at the younger man. He indicated the Spider cringing before them. “Think what you are saying, Bemosetu . ’ ’

  “I won’t have you squabbling,” Sathale interrupted. “You are here to advise me, not gabble and peck like geese.” He rose from the throne. His gold collar was brilliant in the reflected light of a thousand lamps. “I say you did no dishonor to your clan,” he told the prostrate guard. “The Spiders have no reason to disown you. If there is any talk of it, you are to let me know. I order it entered in the records of the Spider clan that you obeyed your orders.” He rounded on the Raven officer. “I want you to form a company of Ravens to take the fort from the men of the False Inca. Be ready to leave by first light tomorrow. ’ ’

  The senior Raven officer slapped his hand on the Turkish-style pistol thrust through his belt. “On my life and my place in the afterlife,” he answered.

  “The Ravens are always touchy,” said Akando, who had been a Raven himself before he became a priest and had given up his clan.

  “With reason,” said Dyami, who once had been an Eagle. “They carry the weight of the border on their shoulders.”

  “Stop it,” said Sathale wearily. He went slowly back toward his throne, but did not sit. Instead, he looked down at the guard. “You may rise.”

  Very slowly the guard lifted his head. “I am not worthy, True Inca.”

  “If you insist,” said Sathale. “But it would please me if you would stand. ” He waited until the Spider guard was on his feet again. “What is your name, Spider?” “Misuthu. I am named for my grandfather.”

  “An honor to your grandfather, then,” said Sathale, who was named for his. “ And you are from my city? ’ ’ “From Sisipo,” Misuthu said, naming a village above the elevation of Machu Picchu.

  Sathale nodded. “I need you to instruct the other guards on what you saw, what these foreigners looked like and how they came to the fort.” He signaled a scribe of the Cat clan. “Get this down.”

  The scribe hurried forward, bringing his writing materials with him. His calligraphy was meticulous and small, for in all the land of the True Inca there were only two paper mills, and paper was precious. He took his place beside
the guard, his pen at the ready. “You may begin.”

  Apenimon had been aloft for most of the day, hanging high in his tethered kite. Spectacles strapped to his head enabled him to see far into the distance. On the ground at Machu Picchu, his twin chafed at his own inactivity, pacing as he watched the cable play out into the sky.

  “Spider-father,” Tilapa protested to Ilatha, glowering at the tether leading to Apenimon’s kite, “if I ride the kites with the ships, just as Apenimon will, why can’t I go aloft while he is up? On the ships we’ll have to flash messages between us, so why not practice here? ’ ’

  “Tomorrow,” said Ilatha, “you’ll be in the air and Apenimon will be on the ground. Once we know how the long hours will affect you, we can establish how you are to signal to one another. ’ ’ He patted Tilapa on the arm. “You’ll have more than your fill of the air, Spider-son, when you have crossed the Western Ocean to the islands of the Maoris. ’ ’

  “Let it come soon,” said Hilapa. He peered up in the sky, trying to find the spot against the clouds that was Apenimon. “When will Iyestu practice, too?”

  “Tomorrow. You three will have to study the charts of the Western Ocean. The Whale clan will show them to you.” Ilatha stared down the mountain, watching the squat funicular cars swaying on the heavy cables. “The True Inca has also decided that your sister is to be allowed to travel in the lead ship, since she has made a study of the language of the Maoris. ’ ’

  “Etenyi?” Tulapa asked. “Why . . . she’s a woman!”

  “The True Inca knows that,” said his father, “but his wisdom must prevail no matter what custom dictates . ’ ’

  “I suppose so, but it’s bad luck,” said Tiilapa, and looked again at Apenimon’s cable, hearing the metal sing. He longed to be in the sky, high above Machu Picchu, with all creation at his feet, the Spine of the World poking up at him.

  ‘And what will that do to her in the clan? Will she still be marriageable after such a voyage?”