Oh, there had been some indignation, of course. And some silly arguments. “I don’t get it,” one of the boys had said. “Instead of acting as he did, why didn’t Teacher just tell the New Order who he was and co-operate with them? Wouldn’t everybody have been better off?”
That started it, and they had had it back and forth for a while, some for Teacher, but just as many against. And the shocking fact was that no one was really much concerned about Teacher. After so many years the younger ones had forgotten him, and the older ones were much more taken up with their own affairs. Many of them were even pairing off and taking mates. And although they had a low opinion of the commissioner, they saw no reason why they shouldn’t trade with him—especially when it came to things they wanted, like bikes and music boxes and mirrors and scented powder.
For a moment Lanna’s thoughts wandered, and she felt a sharp pang of envy as she remembered how some of the boys had been with their girls. If Conan ever returned, would he look at her in that very special way? Or had she grown into such a pale, colorless creature that he’d no longer have any interest in her?
Then she forgot that unsettling possibility as she remembered how the meeting had broken up. One of the older boys, a group leader, had asked, “When Teacher comes, who’s going to be in charge here?”
“He will, of course,” Shann told him. “If it hadn’t been for Teacher, not one of us would be here now.”
There had been a moment’s silence, a lot of whispering, then one of the girls said, “We respect Teacher and all that, but, really, he must be getting awfully old. And it’s about time we elected our own leaders. Don’t you think we ought to run High Harbor ourselves? How about it, people?”
The young ones had agreed, but there had been some concern about Orlo. “What good will it do to choose our own? You know Orlo’s about ready to take over anyway.”
“What if he does? He’s got an in with the commissioner. He’ll get us the things we need.”
“We don’t want Orlo!” someone cried. “We should get together and choose our own!”
“Why don’t we wait till Teacher gets here?”
“Aw, forget Teacher! He may never make it. Anyhow, there’s going to be a meeting soon. Haven’t you heard?”
What meeting?
The rumor was that it was to be a big meeting. But only a few had heard about it, and no one had any details. Obviously something was going on that was being kept quiet.
Lanna glanced unhappily at the harbor again, and for the first time noticed the activity at the dock. She stared. In the misty distance it was hard to see clearly, but what seemed to be a large group of the older boys and girls were lined up, waiting their turn to be ferried out to the trade ship.
What was happening on board?
Was this the meeting she’d heard about this morning? She decided it couldn’t be. There were not enough young ones. But it must have something to do with it. And with Orlo. Was the commissioner entertaining some of the group leaders, hoping to bribe them to vote for Orlo?
The rising resentment in her turned to anger. Anger not only at Dyce, who was working behind Shann’s back, but at all those who had accepted the invitation to go aboard. She felt certain that some of them were ones Shann had talked to this morning. Didn’t they have any feeling of loyalty, or even pride?
Her eyes darkened and her slender hands clenched. Then she fought down her anger as she realized she ought to find out what was going on. If it had anything to do with the secret meeting, the future of High Harbor might depend upon it.
But how was one to learn anything without going aboard?
All at once she caught her lip between her teeth. There was a way, if she could manage it.
“Tikki,” she whispered. “Tikki, I want you to fly down there and circle around the ship. And don’t be afraid if I come with you, and sort of become part of you. Go, Tikki! Fly!”
As the tern rose from her shoulder, Lanna closed her eyes and tried to project herself forward as she had done twice before in her life.
She had been only three the first time, and it had come about so easily that she hardly realized what had happened. There had been the little animal at the edge of the meadow near the summer cabin where her folks had gone that year, before the war got so bad. It was the first wild furry creature she had ever seen. What it was she still didn’t know—a chipmunk, possibly, or a small rabbit. But the sight of it had so delighted her that her heart had instantly gone out to it, and in a blink she had found herself looking at the world through the creature’s eyes. She was aware at that moment of the feel of the grass under the tiny paws and the pleasant smell of it in the twitching nostrils. There had been other smells, and many sounds—safe sounds like scurryings among the leaves and various chirpings, and not-so-safe sounds like the sudden tread of heavy feet. There had been fright, followed by momentary panic on the part of both of them. Then she had found herself back, looking at the world through her own eyes.
It had happened the second time a year later, when her interest had been captured by a bird flying high overhead. She had thought how wonderful it must be, floating up there on feathered wings, so far above everything. But the actual experience of finding herself at that height, at four, with nothing whatever under her but the faraway ground, had been so frightening that she’d been careful never to try it again.
But now she must do it.
Lanna concentrated. She put all her will into it, but still she remained by the tree where she’d stopped, while Tikki receded in the distance.
Presently there came the realization that the ability must have left her because of her long fear of using it. After the uncertainties of the past weeks, and all that had happened, this failure was almost too much. She put her hands over her face and began to sob.
Had it not been for the daily knot he tied in the line to the sail that Teacher called the sheet, Conan would have lost all track of time. This was the evening of the tenth day since they had left the islet, and they seemed to be moving in a void.
At first it had not been too difficult to hold to a westerly course. Always, through the haze, they had been able to make out the glow of the sun by day and the moon by night. Then came the dark of the moon, and it was much harder. But you could manage, once you got the trick of it, provided the wind and sea didn’t change too much between twilight and dawn. Just steer by the feel of the wind on your ear, and pray you didn’t run into something you couldn’t see.
But for the past three days the mist veils had been getting thicker. There was no horizon, and the vague sun glow had gradually vanished. It had been hours since Conan had had any feeling of direction. The wind, he was sure, must have changed since morning, and for all he knew they could be heading back the way they had come.
He glanced at Teacher, and the old man murmured, “Steady as she goes, son.”
“You think we’re still headed west?”
“More west than east, surely. But by tomorrow—” Teacher shrugged.
“But all this mist—I don’t understand. Have the great fogs come early?”
“Very likely. And there are currents we don’t know about. I have a feeling we’ve been carried northward to the fog area. It’s where the old ice cap used to be.”
“Oh.”
Conan swallowed, feeling suddenly helpless. He thought of the smoked fish, which was more than half gone, and their water, which was getting low.
“What—what do you think we’d better do?” he asked.
“Pray,” the old man said softly.
Dr. Manski snorted. She had said little all day, and had avoided argument for a long time. She had taken her regular turns at the tiller and proved herself a good sailor. Not once had she complained or admitted fear, even in the midst of a brief storm that had threatened to tear their craft to pieces.
But now she said harshly, contemptuously, “Pray to what? Those voices you hear?”
Teacher glanced at her and smiled. “Would you pray to
a telephone, Doctor?”
“Eh? Telephone? Why do you answer me with such nonsense?”
“It isn’t nonsense. A telephone is a connection between two people. The voice that sometimes gives me advice is also a connection. Perhaps it is a guardian spirit, or perhaps it is even my own spirit. Who knows? But it is a connection.”
“Humph! Between you and what?”
“Between me and that well of knowledge that some call God.”
She snorted again. “Here we go with that God stuff! Only now we’ve got souls and spirits thrown in. Do you really believe that you have such a thing as a spirit or a soul, old man?”
“Certainly. It’s the only important and lasting part of me.”
She laughed heartily. Abruptly she pointed a finger at him and said harshly, “Listen to me. I am not just a doctor. I am a surgeon, and a good one. In surgery, I have cut into every part of the body—not once, but countless times. And never have I found anything resembling a soul, or even a spot where one could hide.”
Teacher laughed. “And you never will, Doctor.”
“Why do you laugh at me?”
“Because you’ve been searching in one dimension for something that exists in another.”
“It doesn’t exist at all! I defy you to prove it!”
Teacher spread his hands. “What are you living for, Doctor?”
“I didn’t ask to be born,” she snapped. “But I’m here, and I’ve tried to make the best of it. But I know I’m just so much perishable flesh with a brain. Anyway, I’m not important. Only the New Order is important.”
“But you are important,” the old man insisted. “Don’t you realize there’s purpose in your very existence?”
“Ha! Name it!”
“You are here to help others, and to learn.”
She glanced at Conan. “Do you believe all this rot?”
“Yes.”
“He’s sure sold you a bill of goods. Is that why you call him ‘Teacher’?”
“I call him that,” Conan said slowly, “because that’s the name he’s always been known by.”
“So! And how long have you known him?”
“All my life.”
“All your life!” She stared at him. At last she said, “And he’s the man who was known to the world as Briac Roa?”
“Yes.”
“I might be willing to believe it,” she muttered, “but for two things. Patch doesn’t even resemble the pictures I’ve seen. And the great Briac Roa was much too intelligent to ever believe in any such nonsense as God.”
At the moment, Conan didn’t care what she believed in. It was almost dark. The wind had died, and the sail had gone slack. If he had had any remote sense of direction, it had left him in the past few minutes. The stark truth was something he hated to face.
They were lost. They were drifting in a void, and if they had strayed into the region of the great fog, they could go on drifting like this forever.
Dr. Manski seemed to realize their predicament almost at the same time.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” she said.
“We are now,” said Teacher.
“I thought so. I’ve been through the edge of this region in the survey ship. We got out of it because we had the only gyrocompass in existence. But there’s no hope of getting out of it now.”
“There’s hope, Doctor. There’s always hope.”
“Bah! Why don’t you face facts? Or are you afraid to die?”
“I am not concerned for myself, Doctor.”
“Nor am I. So let us accept the truth. We will die on this foolish contraption. One by one, we will die.”
“I doubt it. I have a feeling we will live to see High Harbor.”
She laughed coldly. “You believe in miracles, do you?”
“Of course.”
She laughed again. “Then, if a miracle happens, I will eat crow, as they say. I will accept this silly God of yours.”
“You don’t have to. You must never pretend.”
“I won’t have to. We will drift until we die. All three of us.”
12
GUIDE
ONLY ONCE SINCE THE CHANGE HAD LANNA CLIMBED THE curving steps to the tower’s upper story. That was when she had taken Tikki up and ordered him to find Conan. Possibly Tikki could have succeeded just as easily without using the tower as a starting point, but she did not think so. The tower was ancient, and it had been a landmark long before the sea crept so close. There was something mystic about it, and it was only natural to use it as a point of departure. And wasn’t it the only spot where Mazal could get in touch with Teacher?
It was still early in the evening when she hurried up the crumbling steps with Tikki cradled in one hand. Upon reaching the small open area under the thatched roof, she stopped suddenly, clutching the coping for support while she fought back her terror of that threatening vastness spread before her. Finally she forced herself to go on and stand at the place where Mazal stood every evening.
“Tikki,” she whispered, holding the bird above the protecting wall. “Tikki, you must find Conan again—but this time you must guide him home. Understand? Conan is way out yonder somewhere in the mist, and he is lost. Go, Tikki, and find him and show him the way here.”
The tern spread its slender, black-tipped wings, rose from her hand, and began circling upward. When it passed from her sight above the thatch, she closed her eyes and prayed, then turned to flee down the steps.
She almost ran into Mazal coming up.
“You—you’ve sent Tikki?” Mazal asked.
“He’s on his way.”
“Do you really think he can find them?”
“Of course he can! He found Conan, didn’t he?”
Mazal nodded. “But I don’t see how. I don’t understand how he can possibly—”
“Oh, if I were Tikki—or any bird—I’m sure I could do it. It’s all in how you—”
Lanna turned suddenly, almost gasping, “I can’t stand it up here. Let me down.”
She fled down the steps.
Her aunt followed. In the garden, Mazal said, “Sometimes I think I know you, then I realize I don’t. Nothing could have made me go to Orlo’s camp and do what you did. Yet you can’t even stand the sight of the open sea.”
“It’s a horror. Don’t you feel the danger in it?”
“No. I mean, I’m not ignoring Teacher’s warning about another one of those waves. But, heavens, he doesn’t seem to realize we’ve had nine of the things since the Change. They are dangerous, of course, and I suppose a really big one could do some damage down in the harbor. But I always keep one eye on the horizon when I go fishing, or watch how the tide runs out when it’s foggy. It sucks out suddenly, you know. I’ve seen two of the things coming and had plenty of time to scramble up to a safe height.”
Mazal paused, then went on, “But to come back to Tikki. I’m so worried I’m sick. Do you think the fog is going to make it hard—?”
“Mazal, when you’re able to—to sort of sense where they are, the fog shouldn’t make any difference. Don’t you see? As I started to tell you, the right direction is like a light in the dark. The only thing—”
“What is it? What worries you?”
“Oh, nothing. I—I just wish we could have known earlier the trouble they were having. But I’m sure it will be all right now.…”
She wasn’t at all sure. In fact, deep down, she had a dreadful feeling that she was sending Tikki too late. The mist veils were already creeping along the coast, a sure indication that the great fogs were not far behind. When the fogs came, they could be so dense at times that even the birds refused to leave their perches.
It might take more than Tikki to guide Teacher and Conan here.
There was no longer any doubt in Conan’s mind that the great fogs had come early, and that they’d been caught in the worst part of them. This morning—if you could call this choking grayness morning—he could hardly see Teacher, swaddled in bag and blanket, a
few feet away. Dr. Manski was only a disembodied voice at the forward end of the life raft.
It seemed impossible that their craft could actually be in movement. But the sail was drawing and they were moving swiftly, a fact that always surprised him whenever he reached down and tested the water with his fingertips.
But in what direction were they going?
“Wouldn’t it be better,” he asked Teacher, “to come about once in a while and try another tack?”
“I doubt it. Keep the wind abeam. We’ll be less likely to sail in circles.”
“Circles!” said Dr. Manski. “Ha! What difference does it make? We’ll be moving like ghosts in this haunted place for the rest of eternity.”
Teacher gave a little chuckle. “My dear Doctor, I didn’t know your philosophy admitted such immaterial things as ghosts.”
“Just a figure of speech,” she snapped.
“Well, suppose we find our way out of this. Suppose—”
“Ha! Who’ll show us the way out? One of your voices?”
“I rather had a bird in mind,” Teacher murmured.
“Bird!” she spat.
“Birds have a certain affinity with angels,” he said mildly. “But I was wondering, if we reach High Harbor, how you will continue to feel about the New Order.”
“I am a servant of the New Order! Nothing else matters.”
“But suppose the New Order dies?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“But how can it live without followers? In my years in Industria, I saw almost no young people. Practically everyone there is an oldster who lost all his family in the war. Like you, for instance.”
She remained silent.
“Without children, the New Order is bound to die. You’ve been dedicating yourself to nothing.”
“You’re wrong!” she cried. “We’ll have followers. Commissioner Dyce will take care of that. He has his instructions.”
“Were his instructions to spread a virus that endangered every life in High Harbor? For that is what he did. He let one little girl die so he could prove the deadliness of the virus, all so he could make a profitable deal to stop it.”
The Incredible Tide Page 12