The Many-Coloured Land sope-1

by Julian May

  “Now they’re crossing the Rhine, heading west into the Belfort Gap,” Burke said. “No doubt planning to convoy the last caravan from Castle Gateway before the Truce.”

  Still Pallol only nodded.

  “The Tanu can’t have any inkling of our preparations, Battlemaster. We’ve carried it off without a flaw.”

  This time Pallol laughed, a grating sound like the chafing of lava blocks. “Finiah shines bright across the river, Leader of Humans. Save your self-congratulation for its snuffing. Madame Guderian will not return and all of this scheming against the torc-wearing Foe will be for nothing.”

  “Perhaps so, Battlemaster. But even if we don’t fight, we’ve accomplished things that we never dared dream of before. Nearly five hundred Lowlives have been brought together in a common cause. Only a month ago, that would have been an idle fancy. We were scattered and afraid, mostly without hope. But not any more. We know that there is a chance that we can break the Tanu domination of humanity. If you Firvulag help us, we can do it sooner. But even if you break off the alliance, even if Madame fails to bring back the Spear this year, we’ll return to fight again. After this, humans will never go back to the old timid ways. Others of us will go searching for the Ship’s Grave if Madame fails. We’ll find that ancient weapon and make it work again, something your people could never do. And if the Spear is gone, if we never find it, we’ll use other weapons until the Tanu slavers are defeated.”

  “You mean you will use the blood-metal,” said Pallol.

  Chief Burke was silent for a dozen seconds. “You know about the iron.”

  “The senses of the torc-wearers may be so puny that they require machines to sniff the deadly metal out, but not those of the Firvulag! Your camp reeks of iron.”

  “We will not use it against our friends. Unless you plan betrayal, you have nothing to fear. The Firvulag are our allies, our brothers-in-arms.”

  “The Tanu Foe are our true brothers and yet we are fated to contend with them eternally. Could it be otherwise between Firvulag and humanity? This Earth is destined to belong to you, and you know it. I do not believe that humanity will be satisfied in allowing us to share. You will never call us brothers. You will call us interlopers and try to destroy us.”

  “I can speak only for myself,” Burke said, “since my tribe, the Wallawalla, becomes extinct upon my death. But there will be no treachery by human against friendly Firvulag as long as I am the general of the Lowlives, Pallol One-Eye. I swear it on my blood — which is as red as your own. As for our never being brothers… this is a matter I’m still pondering. There are many different degrees of kinship.”

  “So thought our Ship,” sighed the old champion. “It brought us here.” He tilted his huge head toward the sky. “But why? With so many other yellow stars in the universe, so many possible planets, why here, with you? The Ship was instructed to find the best.”

  “Perhaps,” said Peopeo Moxmox Burke, “the Ship took a longer view than you.”

  All day long the birds of prey had circled.

  They rode thermals above the Vosges woodland in a neat stack, holding most of the time at altitudes appropriate to their species. Lowest was a wheeling flock of small swallow-tailed kites; above them soared a mated pair of bronze buzzards; the fire-backed eagles came next, and then a lone lammergeier vulture, mightiest of the bone crackers. Most lofty of all the circling birds was the one that had initiated the daylong vigil and attracted all of the others. On motionless wings, it orbited at a height so remote that it was barely visible to watchers on the ground.

  Sister Amerie watched the birds through the sparse branches of a stone pine, her tawny cat resting in her arms. “ ‘Wherever the body is, there will the eagles be gathered together.’ ”

  “You quote the Christian scriptures,” said Old Man Kawai, who was shading his eyes with a tremulous hand. “Do you think the birds are truly clairvoyant? Or do they only hope, as we do? It is late, so late!”

  “Calm yourself, Kawai-san. If they get here tonight, there’ll be a whole twenty-four-hour day for the Firvulag to join in the assault. That should be enough. Even if our allies withdraw at sunrise day after tomorrow, we can still win with the help of the iron.”

  The ancient continued to fret “What can be keeping Madame? It was such a slim hope. And such hard work we have done here in expectation that the hope would be fulfilled!”

  Amerie stroked the cat. “If they arrive before dawn tomorrow, the attack can still proceed according to the second alternative.”

  “Ifthey arrive. Have you considered the navigation problem? Richard must come first to Hidden Springs. But how will he find it? Surely these tiny mountain valleys must look much alike from the air, and ours is hidden because of the Hunt. Richard will not be able to distinguish our canyon, even in daylight, if he approaches at a high altitude. And he does not dare to fly a low-level search, lest the enemy observe him.”

  Amerie was patient. “Madame will conceal the ship mentally, of course. Calm yourself. This constant worry is bad for your health. Here, pet the cat. It’s very soothing. When you stroke the fur, you generate negative ions.”

  “Ahsodesuka?”

  “We can hope that the flyer would be equipped with an infrared scanner for night flight, just as our eggs of the twenty-second century were. Even with all of our fighters gone, there are still more than thirty warm bodies here in Hidden Springs. Richard will sniff us out.”

  Old Man Kawai sucked in his breath. A horrible thought of a new sort crossed his mind. “The metapsychic concealment of the aircraft! If its volume is more than about ten cubic meters, Madame will be unable to render it invisible! She will only be able to disguise it somehow and hope that the Tanu do not concentrate their perceptive powers too closely upon it. What if the machine is so large that her faculties are insufficient to invest it with a plausible illusion?”

  “She’ll think of something.”

  “It is a great danger,” he moaned. The little cat gave him a long-suffering glance as his hand essayed a few nervous pats. “The Flying Hunt could even discover the aircraft while it rests here! All that is needed is for Velteyn to descend for a close look at my poor camouflage nets. They are pathetic things.”

  “Adequate for night concealment. Velteyn has no infrared, thank God. And he almost never comes this far west nowadays. Stop your fussing! You’ll stew yourself into cardiac arrest. Where’s your jiriki?”

  “I am a foolish, useless old man. I would not be here in the first place if I were able to rule myself through Zen… The nets, if they fail their purpose, the fault will be my own! The dishonor!”

  Amerie gave an exasperated sigh. She thrust the cat at Kawai “Take Deej into Madame’s cottage and give her some leftover fish. Then hold her on your lap and close your eyes and pet her and think of an those lovely Tri-D’s that used to come rolling off your assembly lines in Osaka.”

  The old man giggled. “A substitute for counting sheep? Yatte mimasu! It may serve to tranquilize me, at that. As you say, there is still time to mount the attack… Come, kitty. You will share your valued negative ions with me.”

  He pottered off, but turned after a few steps to say with a sly grin, “However, one incongruity remains. Forgive my flaunting of the obsolete technology, Amerie-san, but even the lowliest electronicist knows that it is quite impossible for negative ions to be cat-ions!”

  “You get out of here, Old Man!”

  Tittering, he disappeared into the cottage.

  Amerie walked down the canyon past the huts and cottages, nodding and waving to the few people who, like herself, could not resist watching the sky while they waited and prayed. The last of the able-bodied men and women had marched off under Uwe’s command three days ago, and the deadline for the optimal two-day assault had come and gone. But there was still time to execute the one-day attack. At dawn tomorrow, it could be that human beings would unite together for the first time on this Exile world to challenge their oppressors.

 
Oh, Lord, let it happen. Let Madame and the rest of them get here in time!

  It was getting cooler as the sun descended, and soon the thermals, those buoyant upwellings of heated air, would fade away completely and the soaring raptors would have to come back to earth. Amerie came to her secret place beneath a low but open-armed juniper and lay down, face to the sky, to pray. It had been such a wonderful month! Her arm had healed quickly and the people… ah. Lord, what a fool she had been to think of becoming a hermit. Hidden Springs folk and the other Lowlife outlaws of the region had needed her as a physician and counselor and friend. Among them she had done the work she had been trained for. And what had become of the burntout case with the self-punishing compulsion to flee into a haven of solitary penitence? Here she could even pray her Divine Office, contemplate in the forest stillness; but when the people needed her, she was there ready to help. And they were there to help. And he was there in the midst of them. It was her dream fulfilled, even in its changing, only now the language that she prayed in was a living one.

  I put my trust in the Lord! How dare you say to my soul:

  fly away like a sparrow to the mountains,

  for lo, the wicked draw their bows and aim their arrows,

  to shoot in the dark the upright of heart;

  and they have destroyed the good things

  while just people let the evil happen!

  But the Lord tests both the just and the wicked;

  he hates the lawless ones, the evil-lovers.

  Flaming coals and burning sulfur will he pour on them!

  A fiery whirlwind shall be their punishment…

  The lammergeier flew away to his lair among the high crags and the eagles descended to their roosting trees an hour before the sun set. The kites scattered, having to satisfy their appetites with insects, and even the buzzards disappeared at last, perhaps wondering what had prompted all of them to waste time waiting in the futile hope of sharing the great newcomer’s prey. He alone still circled aloof in the high air, completely disdainful of the vanished thermals.

  And Amerie watched him, lying under the tree, watched that distant speck endlessly wheeling that had drawn all the others and then disappointed them. That bird with motionless wings.

  Heart pounding, she scrambled to her feet and ran back up the canyon to rout everybody out.

  “Stand back! Don’t touch it until the field’s off, for God’s sake!” someone shouted.

  The huge thing, still glowing faintly purple, seemed to fill the whole lower end of the canyon. It had descended just as soon as the sky was fully dark, subsonic by a whisker but still shoving a hurricane blast ahead of it that tore bundles of thatch from the roofs and sent poor old Peppino’s geese tumbling like leaves in a gale. It had come to a dead halt no more than two meters above the highest trees, its drooping nose, gull wings, and fan-shaped tail bathed in a crawling network of nearly ultravisible fire. Old Man Kawai, composed now and curtly efficient, had sent several youngsters for wet sacks and ordered the rest of the villagers to stand by the rolls of camouflage netting.

  They all watched, awe-struck, as the hovering thing folded its great wings back against its thirty-meter fuselage and delicately felt its way down. It nosed obliquely between a pair of tall firs where there was a minimum of undergrowth, hesitated just barely off the ground, and then let its long legs settle. There was a loud hiss; a few bushes began to smolder and wisps of smoke curled up around the footpads. The skin of the bird went dead black.

  Then the people, who had stood as though paralyzed, broke into wild cheers. A number sobbed aloud as they rushed to follow Kawai’s orders, beating out the little fires that had been set by the rho-field and hustling to set up poles and guy-ropes for the nets.

  The belly hatch opened and the ladder extruded. Slowly, Madame Guderian came down.

  Amerie said, “Welcome home.”

  “We have brought it,” said Madame.

  “Everything is ready. Exactly as your plan specified.”

  Lame Miz Cheryl-Ann, who was two hundred and three and nearly blind, seized one of Madame’s hands and kissed it; but the Frenchwoman hardly seemed to notice. Up above, a word of warning came from within the flyer. A litter was lowered from the hatch by Felice and Richard.

  Madame said only, “You are needed, ma Soeur.” And then she turned and walked as in a daze toward her cottage. Amerie knelt down and took one of Martha’s bony wrists. Richard stood there in his ruffled pirate shirt and battered buckskins with fists clenched and tears running down his dirty sun-scorched cheeks.

  “She wouldn’t let us come back until the Spear was working right. And now she’s damn near bled to death. Help her, Amerie.”

  “Follow me,” said the nun, and they rushed off after Madame, carrying the litter with them, leaving Claude to see that the big black bird of prey was safely bedded down for the night.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Before dawn there was the Battle Mass, and then Madame exerted her farspeech power to transmit an enigmatic “we come” to Pallol, insuring that the invasion fleet would be poised to exploit the bombardment of Finiah’s wall. Sunrise was less than an hour away and if past performance was any criterion, Lord Velteyn and the members of his Flying Hunt would be back at their stronghold after the night’s foray.

  Claude strode along nearly at the end of the procession heading for the flyer and wished Felice would shut up. She was once again attired in her black leather ring-hockey armor, which had been beautifully refurbished by Old Man Kawai’s artisans, and she was wild with anxiety lest she should miss the war.

  “I wouldn’t take up any room. And I swear I won’t say a word during the flight! Claude, you’ve got to let me come with you. I can’t wait for you to come back after the strike. What if you don’t make it?”

  “If Velteyn nails the flyer, you’d go down with us.”

  “But if you get away, you could put me down right outside Finiah! Say, at the breach in the wall on the land side of the peninsula. I could go in with the Firvulag on the second wave! Please Claude!”

  “The Hunt could have spotted us by then. Landing could be suicide, and that’s not what this fight is all about. Not for me and Madame Guderian, at any rate. Finiah is just the beginning of our war. And Richard’s got Martha to live for now.”

  Up ahead, villagers were pulling the nets from the black bird. A few candles gleamed in the mist where Amerie was blessing the aircraft.

  Felice said, “I could help you with the Spear, Claude. You know what an awkward big bastard it is. I could be useful.” She clutched at the old man’s bush shirt and he stopped abruptly and took her by, the shoulders.

  “Listen to me, girl! Richard is all strung up. He hasn’t slept for more than twenty-four hours and he’s half-crazy with worry because of Martha, Even with the transfusions, Amerie gives her less than a fifty-fifty chance. And now Richard has to fly a combat mission in an exotic aircraft with a couple of old crocks and the future of Pliocene humanity riding on his tail! You know how he feels about you. Having you in the flyer during the mission could be the last straw. You say that you’d keep out of the way. But I know you couldn’t help asserting yourself once the heat was on. So you’re staying here, and that’s that. We’ll do our job and then run for home, and with luck we’ll leave Velteyn completely mystified about where we’ve gone. We’ll come back and pick you up. I promise you that if we make it, we’ll get you to the battle not more than an hour or so after the main assault begins.”

  “Claude… Claude…” Her face peered through the T-shaped opening in the black hoplite helmet, panic and fury and some other more alien emotion at war with reason. Claude waited, praying that she wouldn’t jump him. But he was so steeped in fatigue that he almost didn’t give a damn whether or not she knocked him cold and forced the others to let her take his place. It was in her mind, all right; but she also knew that he was by far the better shot.

  “Oh, Claude.” The blazing brown eyes closed. Tears poured behind the cheekp
ieces of her helmet and the green plumes flattened as she wrenched away from him and fled back toward Madame’s cottage.

  He let out a long breath. “Be ready when we get back!” he called, and then hurried to where the others were waiting.

  The great bird crept furtively from its hiding place. When it was in the clear, it mounted the predawn sky like a violet spark going up an invisible chimney, attaining an altitude of 5000 meters in a thunderclap inertialess surge. Angélique Guderian stood beside Richard, clutching the back of his seat with one hand and her golden torc with the other. Richard had changed into his old spacer’s coverall.