by Vernor Vinge
“What did he say to that?”
“He tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he was taken aback.” Amdi looked up at Ravna and Jefri. He seemed to notice their anxious looks for the first time. “If he knew Tycoon was after us, we’d be locked up already. I figure if we can keep him wondering, we’ll be okay.”
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The show was their best yet. Part of it was the enthusiastic audience. The rumors of the wondrous two-leg circus had had longer to ferment here than anywhere else. And part of it—the strangely pleasurable part—was that all the performers, in some sense even Ritl, had truly gotten their act together.
Ritl started things off, chased by a comically inept Screwfloss. Every time Screwfloss’ leash-carrying member got close, Ritl would skitter away, sometimes to stand mockingly near one of Screwfloss’ others, sometimes to run along the stands and carry on nonsense conversations with the nearest of the audience. The second time around, Ritl found the member-wide servant steps that led to the ruler’s personal seats. Ritl danced along the ledge of the royal box, orating.
Jefri leaned close to Ravna. They were still both hidden from the crowd. “Those are statesmanlike noises,” he said, grinning. “Ritl is coming on like a visiting monarch. I think she’s promising the sun and the moon if the prince will meet her … requests? demands?”
Ravna wasn’t quite so amused. “I just hope she doesn’t get us executed.”
“Well, there is that.”
The crowd was hooting laughter. Maybe nervous laughter. The prince’s private box was draped in deep acoustic quilting that might double as a form of armor. Guard and servant packs stood all around the box, but the interior was as dark as a cave. Pure this prince might be, but he did not project amiable lightness. Ritl didn’t seem to notice, and her boldness was rewarded. Ravna saw three bejeweled heads move into the fading daylight. There were other heads too, but still in the shadows. The prince boomed a response to Ritl, who preened and blathered some reply. Now the crowd’s laughter seemed more natural; Prince Purity too was playing to the audience. Ravna recognized the rippling of his heads as a mocking bow. Everyone but Ritl could see Screwfloss’ leash-carrier sneaking up the steps behind her.
The crowd hooted even louder when Screwfloss pounced and then dragged the arrogant singleton back down the steps. Screwfloss shambled once more around the square, bowing this way and that. Ritl was dragged part of the way, complaining loudly. Ravna made a note to check the beast for cuts and bruises. This was conventional local humor, but Ravna Bergsndot wouldn’t use such excuses.
Then Screwfloss was running back toward the circus pavilion, Ritl racing ahead of him. As she passed into the shadows, the singleton let out an impudent squeak and dived toward Amdi. The eightsome shrank away, and she honked singleton laughter.
“Damned animal!” Amdi said sotto voce. He slid the last of the wooden tines onto his paws, and pranced into the open. The sky was heavily overcast, so there was no risk in using the lamps: the spotlight tracked the Magnificent’s progress toward center stage. The light sparkled and coalesced, synthesized from emitters that Jefri and Amdi had mounted along the top edges of the pavilion. For pre-tech creatures such as this audience, the dissociation of lightsource from light was magical. Amdi was always careful to claim that without special knowledge, the gadgets were useless. That was close to the truth, though the control interface was pretty intuitive. So far no one besides Screwfloss-as-Idiot had tried to steal the lights, and Screwfloss’ attempt was a gag routine in which he made off with pseudo-sources that turned out to be kherhog patties.
The high point of the show was still the performance of the “clever singletons.” That was Jefri and his juggling, then Ravna and her rope tricks, and finally some bogus spelling tests intended to impress those who insisted that intelligence meant more than juggling and knot tying. As usual, Jefri got the most attention, though Ravna’s act now included a simple lasso trick. She walked around the square, followed by the spotlights and a sound show from Amdi. She got near enough to the front row packs that they could hear the silence of her mind, and see the awesome flexibility of her hands. As always, there was the goggling surprise of such first encounters, the combination of amazement and uneasiness and interest.
Then Ravna came to Prince Purity’s box. The guards below it were a sharp-eyed bunch. When they looked up at her teetering height, jaws twitched crossbows. No lasso flicking at these fellows. Ravna stepped back and played to the prince in his box. The three crowned heads came forward, and after a moment, another appeared with a puppy on its shoulders. The pack was saying something, complimenting her? Maybe not. One of him was looking back, into the darkness of the box. It was almost as if there was some other pack in there. Who could be so close?
She rose up on the balls of her feet, trying to get a better view into the dark. What if it’s a human back there? With that thought, she lost her balance and control of the lasso. She hopped around, trying to make it all look like part of the act.
“You okay?” Jefri’s voice was a shout from across the square.
“Yes!” She didn’t dare say the truth. Maybe there’d been no humans on that airship because Nevil’s gang had already landed here—and they were here, now!
Ravna danced away from the prince’s box, but now she was seriously distracted. She stumbled on her rope a couple more times, and even botched some of Amdi’s spelling questions.
Finally, thank the Powers, Amdi segued into the finale, the pseudo-impromptu invitation for the audience to come down and be introduced “paws-to-tentacles” to the marvelous creatures from beyond the sky. Prince Purity said something from his box, and the packs queued up for the privilege. These people were more orderly than any they had run into before. Maybe it was the armed guards that materialized from the side streets. There were more of those than they had seen before, too. Prince Purity’s operation looked more like tax collection than salesmanship.
Jefri cut across the square to be next to Ravna. For the petting zoo part of the performance, they were always together. Tonight … Ravna grabbed his arm. He stepped close, put his head close to hers: “What happened?” he said, almost whispering, somehow guessing that they mustn’t be overheard.
Ravna put her lips by his ear and spoke as quietly as she could. “Keep watch on the prince’s box. What do you see in the back?”
“Ah.” Jefri didn’t look up immediately. Arm in arm, they strolled back to the center of the square, to Amdi and the beginning of the “reception line.” Partway there, Jefri casually looked back over the stands, at the prince’s box. “The prince is still up there,” he said in conversational tones. “I’d hoped he would come down for the petting zoo.” And then very quietly: “I don’t see anything else.”
And then they were overwhelmed by the meeting and greeting. More than ever before, there were packs who wanted to faux chat, repeating Ravna’s Samnorsk back at her. This far north, maybe they had heard rumors about the Domain; if Prince Purity wasn’t already dealing with humans, he soon would be. Ravna looked out at the crowd, and suppressed a groan; even if second visits weren’t allowed, this could last as long as the show at Winch Bottom.
Or maybe not: the prince’s guards were bugling.
Amdi looked up at the royal box. “Prince Purity has announced the end of the public performance. He’s going to bless us with a personal audience.” The packs who had already paid were allowed through, but the guards encouraged them to trot quickly past the humans; there was no more extended chitchat. Ravna noticed more than one head looking nervously at the prince’s box.
Ravna noticed Jefri signing to Amdi, out of sight of the royal box. Amdi’s eyes widened in surprise. He waved to Screwfloss to take Ritl further away. “She’s not going to mess me up with the prince.” Amdi spread himself out into the newly vacated space, and looked very attentive as Prince Purity came down his private staircase one by one.
Jefri stood tensely beside her; he was looking at the prince, ac
tually looking over his members. From here, they could see further into the royal box than had been possible standing right in front of it. And when the last of Purity came down the steps, there was no one standing between them and whatever mystery lurked within.
“Nothing as tall as a human is standing there,” came Jefri’s whisper.
No, but there was something, and now it moved partway out of the shadows. She still didn’t have a clear view, but this looked like a singleton. Unlike the prince’s members, this one’s cloak was very dark. The creature didn’t follow the prince down the stairs.
Ravna glanced at Jefri and he gave her a little shrug. If that singleton had been up in the box the whole time, it should have been difficult for the prince to keep his mind on the show. “Different customs?” he said softly. “Or maybe this prince is just personally kinky.”
As the prince came across the square, the last of the commoners were cleared away. None were left in the stands either, but a number of packs still clustered on the streets that led into the square, standing as close to one another as packs could comfortably come. Others looked down from tiny windows that faced the square. Their audience was still large, but somewhat subdued, almost as if trying to pretend that it did not exist. Ravna noticed Amdi surreptitiously playing with the lamps, making sure the spotlight followed the prince across the plaza. Hopefully, this looked like an honor—but one that would also remind the fellow of powers beyond his ken.
No commoner clothing for Prince Purity. His capes and jackets were sewn from the pelts of hundreds of weasels. Ravna had seen such pieces in the Domain, but only for leggings and singlecapes. The fur-dressing process created a white that Tines prized for its purity—though to human eyes it was more a pale and grubby puce.
As the prince advanced, two guard packs circled wide around Amdi and the humans. Amdi was forced to close in on himself, but the guards didn’t approach Jefri and Ravna. That privilege was reserved to the autocrat. Purity walked to within a few meters of them, visibly squinting in the spotlight. The creature was a fivesome, mostly overweight except for one puppy that stayed behind the others, its beady eyes just visible over their rumps. The four adults sat for a moment, heads bobbing in a pattern that Ravna took for a cocky smile. Unlike some in their audience tonight, the prince could not fully overcome his uneasiness about two-legs. Instead, he sent a couple of his members to walk close to Jefri and then Ravna. The two brushed around the humans’ legs, tasted at the fabric of their clothes. Then as they retreated, the two gave Ravna a coordinated shove. Jef’s hand kept her upright.
Amdi squawked a “Hei now!” chord.
The prince gobbled something back. Amdi started translating even as the autocrat spoke. The voice he chose for the prince was smarmy and sly: “No harm intended, Circus Master. I must say, these tottering creatures can scarcely keep on their feet.” The prince’s forward members continued to circle Ravna and Jefri, but just out of arm’s reach.
Amdi puffed up, managed to look indignant despite the armed guard packs standing around them. His Tinish reply was overlaid with a Samnorsk translation: “We are honest performers, Sir. Have we not provided you with profitable entertainment?” Amdi poked a head meaningfully at the bags of loot that the prince’s fee collectors were now counting into strongbox wheelbarrows.
Prince Purity hooted softly, a chuckle that Amdi didn’t bother to recast into human mouth noise. He gobbled on. Amdi’s overlay was: “Of course. My people enjoyed every minute of it and they’ve paid handsomely. But you held my center square here for hours. No traffic could pass. We are a trading town, my circus-minded friend. We can’t ignore the damage that loss has caused to the market folk displaced.”
Amdi gave an indignant squeak, dropping out of Magnificence for an instant. Meantime, the prince rattled on. Amdi’s voice-over hurried to catch up: “You shouldn’t be surprised that there are additional fees involved here.”
“Um, perhaps we could contribute part of our agreed-upon payment to cover these expenses.”
“Good, good!” Amdi’s Purity voice got even more snotty. Somewhere under all the deadly tension, Amdi was having a good time mocking this villain. “I’m sure we can work something out. These laws after all—I make them. We will talk more on the problem tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But milord, if you will recall, the whole point of performing tonight was to pay for supplies and be on our way before morning.”
“Oh, I’m afraid that will be impossible. You are far too valuable to simply disappear into the night.”
Amdi dithered a moment. What could he do? From under the pavilion, Ritl started squawking. It wasn’t the focused sonic mayhem of a pack, but she was screeching louder than any human could shout. She bounced out to the end of her leash, blasting imperatives. Was that support for her fellow circus members or something more like “Stop thief!” and “Seize them!”
Amdi was looking off in all directions. The commoners had moved back from the wide streets. Some of them were bumping into each other, competing for space under awnings and doorways. Heads pointed upwards, and to the south.
Amdi spread out, actually invading the space of the two guard packs. After a silent moment, a knowing smile spread across his aspect. “I showed you my letter of safe passage, my lord.”
Prince Purity emitted a dismissive noise. If he knew they were fugitives, that safe passage would count for nothing.
But Amdi continued, “I also mentioned to you that I had the protection of the Domain of Woodcarver. That nation may have seemed far away before now—but the sounds you heard over your principate just last night, that was the magic flier of Queen Woodcarver. You laughed when I mentioned our protection. You laughed when I suggested that her airship might come back to find us. Now please reconsider.” And then Amdi shut up, as if he had made some stunning, winning play.
In fact, Purity didn’t have any zippy reply. He was grinning much the same masterful smile as Amdi. He too had spread out, almost doubling his area on the ground. For a moment they looked like two frauds trying to out-bluff each other. Then Ravna noticed that both packs were looking off into the night, all in the same direction as the packs around the square. Amdi and Purity had spread out because they were listening.
Ravna and Jefri turned and looked up with the others. Full night was an hour old. The dark was starless, the cloud cover complete. Now … even to nearly deaf human ears … there was the sound of the airship’s steam engines.
Powers above, don’t let this be Nevil.
Amdi and the prince continued their proud poses, still grinning at each other. Purity’s guards were buckling up their armor; maybe they weren’t as confident as their boss.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. It sounded as close as this morning, but there was an undertone that had been missing then. “There’s two of them out there,” Amdi said in his little boy voice.
Sound became substance, looming out of the dark. The aircraft coasted toward them above the south road, descending gently into the plaza. There was plenty of room for Scrupilo’s airships to land here, but the packs on board had extended poles to push the craft sideways to the edge of the open space. Eight members—two packs—tumbled out, carrying mooring lines in their jaws. They raced around, tying the airship to Purity’s heroic statuary.
Amdi was playing with the lamps: multiple spotlights splashed along the airship’s hull. They were looking at it head-on, but what she could see was Oobii’s design, adapted from aircraft of myriad terrestrial worlds, optimized for Tines World.
“That’s too small to be—” Amdi started to say, but he was interrupted by the prince’s laughter. A singleton was racing along the edge of the square, toward the airship. For an instant, Ravna thought Ritl had escaped. But this creature was larger than Ritl, and wore a dark cape. It came from the prince’s box. Amdi brought down a spotlight, tracked the running creature till it disappeared among the crewpacks who had dismounted from the flyer. That moment of light was enough for Ravna to notice the golden
highlights in the glossy blackness of the cape.
There was only one cloth in the world like that. So the stolen radio cloaks had not been lost, and—
The engines on the grounded flyer hummed down to silence while the buzz of the other continued to grow. She stared into the darkness above the southern road: the second craft was slightly bigger than the first. Its circular cross-section almost filled the space between the buildings. Amdi brought the lamplight to bear on it, diffused to reveal the expanse of what they faced.
Ravna saw that Screwfloss had probably been right this morning, claiming that there were no humans flying above them. Nevil’s gang was most likely two hundred kilometers away, still at Newcastle on Starship Hill. But so was Woodcarver and anyone who could save them. The wash of light from Amdi’s lamp revealed the design painted around the bow windows of the second airship. It was the disk of the world, surrounded by a godlike pack of twelve.
CHAPTER 31
The face-off between Purity and Amdiranifani didn’t end quite as the prince might have wished. Some minutes passed while the airship crews made sure of the tiedowns; the prince’s statues were more fragile than they looked. The radio-cloaked singleton went from one ground crew to the other. The creature didn’t behave like any singleton Ravna had ever seen, not with the bombastic nonsense of Ritl nor the plaintive silence of a less articulate fragment. It seemed to be talking to the packs in a sensible way.
Finally a stairway was dropped from the second airship and one pack, a small-bodied foursome, emerged. Each member carried a pair of sticks that looked like the stocks of crossbows. They were strapped along the back, the metallic tubes extending to just short of the shoulder. They looked a bit silly to Ravna, until she realized they were lightweight guns—very much like the firearms she and Scrupilo had designed. The gun-toting pack approached Prince Purity, the radio-cloaked singleton walking almost shoulder to shoulder with it.