by Emily
"You're sure we won't have any trouble getting down," said Quait.
Claver squeezed his shoulder. "None whatever, my young friend. I can assure you that eventually, one way or another, we will get down."
Flojian was working on a diagram of the balloon's inflating appendix, but the wind kept worrying at the paper until he finally gave up. He seemed far more interested in the mechanics of the vehicle than he did in the view.
Claver found his wind and they drifted through the afternoon, moving at a steady clip toward the northeast. "I'd estimate about thirty miles an hour," he said. Quait was impressed. Thirty miles needed a day and a half on the ground.
There were Roadmaker towns, often no more than a few charred ruins.
"You get a better sense of the scale of destruction from up here." Claver adjusted his goggles. He did that a lot.
"The Plague must have been terrible," said Flojian.
"That's a safe guess." Claver looked down. "There were a lot of people during Roadmaker times. You ever see Boston or New York? Oh, you'd know if you had. Very big. Enormous. Not anything like Brockett. You get a good sickness into that population, it'd run wild."
They picked up a dirt road and followed it east.
"How high are we?" asked Chaka.
Claver sucked his lips. "About a mile and a half."
The road came to a river, which it leaped on a new log bridge. A stockade guarded the near side. "The frontier," Claver explained. Thick forest and rugged hills ran to the horizon. Even the road seemed to fade out. "We'll have the same problem eventually."
"Plague?" asked Flojian.
"Population. If we come back in thirty, forty years, this'll all be farmland."
By sundown they were crossing a Roadmaker double highway. It came out of the north, broad and straight, and from their altitude it looked unbroken. Ahead, a range of white-capped peaks loomed.
It was cold, and getting colder. They distributed the blankets and pulled them around their shoulders. "If we went lower," suggested Flojian, "we might get warmer air."
"Might,* said Claver. "We might also Ret currents that are
going the wrong way. We don't have hydrogen and ballast to waste running up and down."
They ate and watched the mountains approach. The land rose under them, snow and granite and forest. It mounted up and up, gradually at first, and then sharply, and they were drifting over peaks so close they could smell the spruce. And then the land fell away again. The sun went down and the darkness below went on forever.
A full moon rose. 'With a little bit of luck," said Claver, "we should be over the ocean by dawn."
They arranged a rotating night watch.
Claver explained that they wanted to keep the north star forty-five degrees off the port side of their line of advance. "Obviously, we won't maintain that with any degree of exactitude. But if we get too far off course, say thirty degrees or more for longer than a few minutes, wake me"
They managed some privacy by holding a blanket for one another. A bucket hung from the underside of the craft, and this was hauled aboard when needed, and after use its contents were dumped. Flojian and Claver exchanged amused comments about the risks for travelers on the ground.
Quait took the first watch. Chaka stayed close to him for a while, and he was grateful for her warmth. Then she climbed beneath a blanket and was quickly asleep, rocked by the gentle movements of the gondola.
Following Claver's suggested method, Quait picked out a landmark, a hill, a patch of trees, a river bend, occasionally a mountain, anything that was forty-five degrees forward of the north star. Then he settled down to watch it draw nearer. As long as it continued to do so in a more or less straightforward manner, he was satisfied. On one occasion, a highway intersection that he was guiding on veered far to starboard. That meant the balloon had begun to move almost due north. He woke the pilot.
Claver was cheerful enough about being disturbed, and seemed to enjoy having been called on to set things right. He tugged on the yellow line until the balloon started to descend. His manner suggested all this was really quite basic. Within a few minutes he had the vehicle back on course and, in his con-
descending manner, asked to be awakened again if there were any more difficulties.
Quait knew how to make the balloon rise and fall. What he did not understand was how to determine where favorable air currents would be. "I don't know how to explain it/ Claver told him later. "Experience, I guess."
Sleep came hard for Quait. It might have been the cold. Or the smell of salt air. Or the impending end of the hunt. But most likely it was Chaka's proximity. On the trail, he had prudently maintained a discreet distance. Here, she lay breathing softly, within easy reach.
He sighed, got up, and joined Claver, who was at the helm, or whatever constituted a helm on this windrunner. The sky was ablaze with the rising sun, and they were running parallel to a rocky shore.
Claver was doing knee bends. "I recommend it," he said. "Keeps you warm and flexible."
"How are we doing?" asked Quait.
"Okay." There was a note of self-satisfaction in his voice. "The wind wants to take us out to sea."
"Don't let it happen."
"I won't." He flexed shoulders and arms, not unlike a boxer. "But we're spending a lot of gas and ballast."
"Is that a problem?"
"Starting to be."
Quait settled back to watch the sunrise. The pilot passed him some nuts and water. "Not much of a breakfast," Claver admitted. 'But with luck, we'll be on the ground anyway in a few hours."
"I've seen the ocean before," Quait said. 'At the mouth of the Mississippi."
"What direction was it from the land mass?"
"South."
Claver thought it over. "I wonder if it's the same body of water? It might be possible for you to go home by sea."
Quait laughed. "Anything would be an improvement on the overland route." He looked toward the rising sun and the
curving horizon and wondered what lay beyond. 'Could you get to Chicago in this thing?" he asked.
"If we had enough hydrogen. And the wind was right. But I don't think I'd want to try it."
They began to drift, and he had to take them up and then down to get the balloon moving forward again. It gave Quait a little satisfaction to see that even Claver didn't guess right all the time. But the sandbags were emptying fast.
They floated north over a rugged coastline, an endless series of cliffs, shoals, inlets, and offshore islands. They saw deer and wild horses and, on occasion, signs of habitation. There were a few plowed fields, some orchards, a house on a bluff overlooking a harbor. Gray smoke billowed out of the chimney. Later they saw a small boat casting nets. But these were the exceptions. For the most part, there was only wilderness.
The sun climbed toward the meridian. The first sign of Knobby's bay would be land to the east. But islands were liberally sprinkled through the area, so there was a series of false alarms. At midafternoon, the wind changed. Claver threw more ballast over the side. The vehicle moved first one way and then another before settling back on course.
"That's about it," he announced. "We don't have enough left to manage anything other than a landing. Your bay better come up soon."
Within the hour, a finger of land appeared in the east. They watched with hopeful skepticism, remembering the earlier islands. It developed into a long coastline, and cut off the open sea. Mountains rose. And, as they drew closer, they saw more Roadmaker towns and coastal roads littered with hojjies.
"This is it," said Chaka.
They came in over the bay at an altitude of about two miles. The tide was out, and they saw with joy that it did indeed leave vast mudflats in some areas. It wouldn't be difficult for an unwary master to find himself stranded.
A few minutes later, the bay divided into two channels. "Keep to starboard," said Flojian, barely able to contain his excitement.
The water glittered in the
sunlight. Escarpments and green hills lined the shore. Here, waves rolled onto white beaches; there, they pounded rock formations.
A crosswind caught them and blew them toward the wrong side of the bay. Claver reluctantly released more hydrogen until he had arrested the movement and they were again approaching the eastern coast. But they continued to drop, even after he'd thrown out ballast. "We're going to have to find a place to land," he said.
"Over there!" said Flojian. Inshore, the saddle-shaped mountain came into view.
"Okay," said Quait. "We're doing fine."
"Not really," said Claver. "We're going down a little bit fast." He dumped the last of his sand. They continued to fall.
"Orin?" said Quait.
"Prepare for landing," he said. "We need a city."
The bay was getting narrow. A long hooked cape, very much resembling the one marked on Knobby's map, projected out from the east. Knobby had given them bearings, and they used them now to target an escarpment. A sheer wall, their map said.
"That's it," cried Chaka, and they embraced all around.
They drifted past. "We're doing about forty," said Claver.
The bay continued to squeeze down. The mountaintops were getting close.
"Town ahead," said Claver.
Quait could now see clearly a network of ancient roads and piers and stone walls. The precipice that might contain Haven fell behind.
The town was reasonably intact. Blackened buildings still stood. The network of streets was easy to make out, and there was a large industrial complex on the north. "Looks like an old power plant," said Claver. "Probably shut down before the collapse. If we can make it, we'll be in good shape."
Bluffs and trees were coming up fast. "Try to relax when we hit," he added.
A road appeared beneath them, and swerved off to the east. They scraped the too of a hill and bounced throueh some tree-
tops. As they broke free, Claver jerked away the rip-panel and the envelope collapsed with a sigh. The gondola landed hard and spilled its passengers into a field.
"We're down,' said Claver.
"Orin," said Quait, 'flying is never going to catch on."
29
They dragged the envelope and the gondola into a shed, collected their weapons, blankets, lamps, the rope ladder, and the rest of their supplies, and turned back toward the bay.
There was no sign of local inhabitants, no houses, no plowed fields. They found a road and followed it into the woods. Nobody talked much. They could hear the sound of the surf in the distance.
The road eventually faded out. But they could smell the water, and an hour later, as the sun went down, they broke out onto the shoreline.
They had fish for dinner and sat late into the night, listening to the long silences. Flojian was appalled to learn that Claver had sold individual steam engines rather than the process to marine manufacturers. In a society without patent laws, this had amounted to giving away the secret for the price of a few units. The buyers were now in the business of making their own, and he was effectively cut out. "It doesn't really matter," Claver said. "I have all the money I need. What disturbs me is that they overpriced the boats and people blame me. The river-men think I got rich on their backs."
"When in fact," said Flojian, "the manufacturers took the money." He shook his head. "You need a business manager."
Claver confessed that he was getting excited about what they might find tomorrow. "I've been trying to dismiss it as nonsense, and 1 still think it is. But wouldn't it be glorious to find the Quebec? What a cap that would be for my career."
Quait and Chaka took a walk in the woods. "Last night of the great hunt," she said. "It's hard to believe we're really here."
Moonlight filtered through the trees. It cast an aura around her hair but left her eyes in shadow. She was achingly lovely, a forest goddess who had finally revealed herself. Quait felt nineteen. "I have a suggestion,* he said. His voice was pitched a trifle higher than normal. He'd been practicing all evening how he was going to say this, what words he would use, where he would pause, and where lay stress. But it all vanished. "There's a tradition," he continued, "that a ship's captain is authorized to perform weddings." He felt her stiffen, and then melt into him. "I've talked to Orin. He'd be willing to do it for us. And I think this would be the perfect time."
"Because the quest ends tomorrow?"
"Because we're here tonight. Because I'm in love with you." Because six people died in those tunnels and nobody knows how.
"Yes," she said.
He had not expected so quick a reply. He'd rehearsed various arguments, how they would remember forever the night and the following day. Haven and their wedding, inextricably linked forever. How, regardless of the way things turned out, the journey home would be difficult and dangerous. (He hadn't been able to work out why the wedding would make it less difficult or less dangerous, but it would sure as hell make it more endurable.) How there was no need to wait longer. Been through enough. They knew now beyond doubt that they would eventually be mates. That decision having been taken, why delay things indefinitely?
She drew his lips down to hers and folded her body into his. "Yes," she said again.
Orin Claver was not a believer. Nevertheless, he surprised the Illyrians by showing no reluctance to invoke the Goddess as protector of the hearth.
"We are met on this hilltop," he began, in the timeless ritual of the ancient ceremony, "to join this man and this woman." The fire crackled in the background, and a rising wind moved the trees. As there was no one present to give the bride away, Flojian agreed to substitute for the requisite family member.
Claver's white scarf served as Chaka's veil. She was otherwise in buckskin. Quait found a neckerchief to add a touch of formality to his own attire.
Illyrian weddings required two witnesses, one each from the earthly and from the divine order. Flojian consequently was drawn to double duty, and stood with the invisible Shanta while his two friends pledged love, mutual faith, and fortune. When they'd finished, they exchanged rings which she had woven from vines and set with stones. Claver challenged any who had reason to object to come forward, "or forever remain silent."
They glanced around at the dark woods, and Chaka's eyes shone. "No objection having been raised," said Claver, "I hereby exercise the authority held by captains from time immemorial and declare you husband and wife. Quait, you may kiss the bride."
Flojian, sensing that the Goddess was preparing to depart, took advantage of her proximity to ask her to remember her servant Avila.
... A sheer wall rising about two hundred feet out of the water. We could see thick woods at the top.... There was a river on the north side of the bluff, and a pebbled beach....
They looked at their map some more, took bearings on the turn in the channel and the saddle-shaped formation that Knobby had described.
"I'd say that's it," said Claver.
They compared it with Ann's sketch. "He would have been back that way," suggested Chaka. A quarter-mile or so down the beach.
They stood on wet sand off to one side of the formation. "There's the discolored rock," Quait said, drawing a horizontal line in the air with his index finger. "The door."
They all saw it. Flojian noted the position of a notched boulder on the summit. Chaka produced Silas's journal and made the appropriate notation: SUSPECTED ENTRANCE FOUND. She dated and initialed it. When she'd finished, they hiked around behind the bluff and started upslope.
By early afternoon they'd arrived at the top. They laid out their gear under a spruce tree and peered over the edge. It was a long way down. The cliff face looked gray and hard and very smooth, save for occasional shrubs. Far below, whitecaps washed over rocks. Flojian looked for his notched boulder, walked a few paces along the summit, and stopped. "Right about here," he said.
Gulls fluttered on air currents and skimmed the outgoing tide.
Quait nodded. Til go down." He was already reaching for a line.
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"I don't think that's a good idea," said Claver.
"Why not?"
He glanced at his own eighty-seven-year-old body, at the diminutive Flojian, at Chaka. "I know I'm in good shape for my age," he said, "but I'm still not sure the three of us could haul you back up here if you got in trouble. Seems to me as if the muscle in this operation should be on top and not on bottom."
There was no arguing the logic. "Who then?"
"Me," said Chaka.
"No," said Quait.
Claver nodded. "It makes sense. She's forty pounds lighter than anybody else."
Chaka looped a rope around her shoulders. "It's not a problem," she said.
"Absolutely not," said Quait.
But Chaka never paused. "I'm a full member of this mission," she said. "I've taken my chances along with everybody else."
"I know that."
"Good." She tightened the rope and stretched her shoulders.
"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Quait asked.
"Tree house." And, when his expression did not lighten, "I'll be fine, Quait."
"We should have thought to bring a harness," said Claver.
They secured the rope ladder to a cottonwood and dropped it over the side. Then they looped Chaka's safety line around the same tree, left sixty feet of slack, and anchored it to an elm.
"Be careful," said Quait. "If you need more line, pull once. You want to get hauled out of there, pull twice."
"Okay, lover," she said. "I got it. And I'm ready."
"If the place is really here," said Flojian, "I can't believe there's not another entrance."
Claver shook his head. "There'd be a lot of ground to search. Let's use the way we know. Once inside, we can see what else is available."
Chaka put on a pair of gloves, stuffed a bar into her belt, and walked to the edge.
"Luck," said Flojian.
She flashed a smile, straddled the ladder, and began to back down over the cliff edge. Quait paid out the safety line.
The ladder's rungs were wooden. But it was hard to get her feet onto them until the rock wall curved away somewhat. She kept her eyes on Quait as long as she could. She did not look down, but she felt the presence of the void. There seemed to be a damned lot of business with heights on this trip.