On entering the room, his grimness dissolved into a smile. The Lady Ilmika Thorrsstein was waiting for him. She continued to sit in her chair, as befitted a member of the Blodland nobility in the presence of a commoner. However, she did reply to his smile with one of her own.
Two Hawks kissed her extended hand and said, “Ur Huskarleship (Your Ladyship).”
“Hu far’t vi thi, lautni Tva Havoken?” she said. (“How goes it with you, freeman [or Mister] Two Hawks?”)
“Ik ar farn be’er,” he said. (“I am doing better.”) “Ur Huskarleship ar mest hunlich aeksen min haelth of.” (“Your Ladyship is most gracious in asking about my health.”)
She certainly gave no hint of having recently gone through an ordeal. She was no longer the dirty, hollow-cheeked, fatigued-eyed and smelly woman he had known on the flight through the forest. She had put on some weight, rounded out nicely, and her eyes were clear, the dark circles gone. Her lips were rouged a dark red, her face was slightly powdered, and her cheeks lightly rouged. She wore one of the tall conical hats from which hung a thin blue gauze strip, the whole reminding him of the hats worn by the ladies of medieval times. Her dress was of some shiny pale white stuff, form fitting from the waist up, cut low and square at the bosom. A ruff of yellow lace circled her waist, and the skirt, held out by several stiff petticoats, fell to her ankles to shape a truncated cone. Her high-heeled shoes were of white leather and bore tiny blue puffballs on the toes.
She was very pretty. Two Hawks, looking at her, suddenly felt the thrust of desire that had been too long subdued by the rigors of the flight and then by the torture. Returning strength and long abstinence was making him extraordinarily horny, he thought. Or maybe not so extraordinarily. Just his usual state.
But this woman was not for him. He had learned of the strong class barriers that existed throughout most of Europe. They were as rigidly and harshly enforced, perhaps even more so, than they had been in, say, seventeenth-century France.
Only the country of the Hotinohsonih—“his people”—had anything approaching the American concept of democracy. This was the only nation which had given its women the right to vote. He was from a world and a time which regarded the social barriers of this world as of little importance, even ridiculous. So he could not help looking boldly at her. Some of his desire must have shown, for she lost her smile, and her eyes narrowed. He hastened to reassure her, since he did not wish to offend her and so lose his only personal contact with the outside world.
“Foryi me, faeyer Huskarle,’ he said. ‘Ik n’a seen swa bricht a faemme for maniy a daey. Yemiltsa.” (“Forgive me, fair lady. I have not seen so bright a maiden for many a day. Show mercy.”)
He added with a smile, “Besides, I am not responsible for my actions. Otherwise, I would not be here.”
She smiled, though strainedly, and said, “You are forgiven. And I am happy that you brought up the subject of your... uh... staying here.”
“Call it imprisonment,” he said. “Although I can’t complain about my treatment. They’re very nice.”
She leaned forward and said, face intent, “I don’t think you’re crazy.”
He was a little startled and then it occurred to him that she had been left alone with him. That would not have been done unless she had requested it, since she was an important person. He had learned that she was the daughter of Huskarl, that is, Lord Thorrsstein, the Blodland ambassador to the nation of Dakota. Thorrsstein and his daughter had fled towards Iroquoia when the Perkunishans invaded Dakota. The Lord and his daughter had become separated, and later Ilmika had been taken by guerrillas through the Perkunishan lines.
“What makes you think I’m not mad?” he said. He knew now that she was not here merely to make a social call.
“I just cannot believe it,” she replied. Making an effort to hide her tension, she sat back in the chair. She folded her hands on her lap and said, “If you are not crazy, then what are you?”
He decided he could not lose by telling her the truth. If she had been sent by the secret police to see if he gave her a different story, she would return with the same they had heard. However, it was not likely that the Hotinohsonih had asked her to probe for them. They would have gotten verification from Tarhe that Two Hawks was sticking to his tale.
More probably, Ilmika represented her own people, the Blodland secret agents. Perhaps they had information which the Hotinohsonih lacked. This information might have made them think that Two Hawks could be from a “parallel” universe and so had knowledge of a superior technology. The wreck of the Hiawatha could have been discovered. If it had been, it would present the finders with a disturbing puzzle. The Blodland agents, knowing of it and also of the two strangers and their story, had contacted Lady Thorrsstein. She was to question him to determine if he could be useful.
If this were the true situation, the Blodlandish were not telling their Hotinohsonih allies what they knew. The Blodlandish wanted the information for themselves.
He smiled. Even in the desperate predicament in which both allies were, one was playing against the other. Power politics and national security were as paramount here as on his Earth.
Still, the Blodlandish interest gave him a bargaining position. It might permit O’Brien and himself to escape not only from the asylum but from a country that seemed to be on its way to being defeated and occupied. So far, Blodland was not threatened by invasion.
Before starting his narrative, Two Hawks explained the concept of “parallel” universes as best he could. Ilmika listened attentively, and her questions showed that she was as intelligent as she was pretty. She had no difficulty in understanding him, but whether or not she believed him was another matter. Nevertheless, she encouraged him to go on, which meant she was willing to grant the possibility he might not be a lunatic. Or perhaps she had been told to get his entire story, even if it sounded to her like ravings.
Two Hawks followed his “theory” with a broad outline of how his Earth differed from her Erthe, as it was called in Blodlandish. Then he gave her the background of World War II and of his involvement. He ended with a description of the great American bombing raid on Ploesti and the passing of the Hiawatha through the “gate” and the parachuting into the peasant’s field.
“Your Ploesti is Tkanotaye’koowaah or, as it’s called in Western Europe, Dares, after the original Trojan name,” she said. “The Perkunishans wanted it for the same reason your Germans wanted its counterpart. Oil and gas. You were fortunate you arrived when you did. One day later, and you would have fallen into the enemy hands. They had the area under complete control by then.”
Two Hawks walked to the huge picture window which gave a view of ‘Estokwa. The asylum was on a high hill a few miles from the center of the capitol. The great white marble building of the Teyotoedzayashohkwa’, the Iroquoian version of Parliament or of Congress, dominated the metropolis. To one side was a smaller building, also in Greek style but of red granite. This was the residence of the hakya’tanoh (literally, he watches over me), the elected chief executive.
‘Estokwa, once a seaport of the Trojan colonists, had been razed and its inhabitants massacred when the Iroquoians had taken it after a long siege. The longhouses of the barbarians had been built in the midst of the stone ruins. But now ‘Estokwa was a modern city, indistinguishable at a distance from most West European metropolises. The government and business buildings were constructed of marble or granite and modeled after the classical Akhaivian architecture.
Two Hawks had seen closeup photos of the congressional building in Tarhe’s office. The pillars of the great portico were carved to represent the seven tutelary animals of the seven major tribes that had comprised the original invaders. The exterior walls were covered with friezes depicting not only scenes from history but weird symbolic figures representing characters from religion and folklore. These were executed in the distinctive non-European style that the “red men” had developed after becoming civilized.
Two
Hawks wanted it to be otherwise, but he had no genuine identification with these people. They were “Iroquois,” but not the Iroquois he knew. Their past, and present, were too dissimilar, and the influences under which they had come were also too alien. He actually had less identification with them than he had with the white culture of his native United States of America.
Given time, he might have made a satisfactory adjustment. But this nation seemed destined to go down into defeat under the overwhelming might of Perkunisha. If it did, it would give him no home. It would be a hell. The official policy of Perkunisha towards conquered nations was the absolute destruction of all non-Perkunishan traits. First, genocide on a scale that not even the Germany of his world had been bold enough to proclaim publicly. Then colonization by Perkunishans and other Europeans thought sufficiently Nordic to be given Perkunishan citizenship.
Even now, a battle was raging some twenty miles to the west and north of ‘Estokwa. Three enemy armies were battering steadily towards the gates of the capitol. Unless something unlikely happened, the invaders would be in ‘Estokwa within a week. There would be house-to-house fighting then, but the government itself was making plans to evacuate.
As he looked over the city, he saw three dots appear in the blue sky. Presently, they were close enough to be seen as dirigibles. Three huge silvery cigar-shapes, they slid through the air while little puffs of smoke arose beneath them. Serenely, they ignored the futile and primitive anti-aircraft fire and proceeded toward their targets, the congressional building and chief executive’s residence. Many little objects fell from the mammoths’ bellies as they passed one by one over the targets. Clouds of smoke with hearts of fire pillared up from the ground. A few seconds later, the picture window rattled, the asylum building trembled, and he heard the not-too-far-off boom, boom, boom.
Other great sausages appeared. More bombs. The hemispherical roof of the legislators’ building was gone. Wooden houses began to blaze. A factory went up in smoke and flying beams.
Two Hawks heard a door open behind him in one of the brief recesses between the explosions of bombs. He turned to see Thorrsstein’s slave stick her head inside the room. She was a pretty girl of Amerind-white ancestry, a descendant of the aboriginal whites enslaved by the Hotinohsonih. The Lady Thorrsstein had mentioned earlier that the girl had been loaned to her by the Hotinohsonih government because she could speak Blodlandish. Normally, she was stationed at the Blodland embassy in ‘Estokwa. Probably, she was a spy for the Hotinohsonih.
Ilmika asked what she wanted. The girl timidly replied that she wanted to make sure her mistress was all right, that she was not distressed by the bombing. Ilmika did look pale, and her back was even more rigid than usual. But she managed to smile and to say that she was quite all right, thank you. The slave girl remained in the room until ordered to leave. Not until the girl had closed the door behind her did Ilmika speak again. By that, Two Hawks knew that she too suspected the girl. That must also be why Ilmika had permitted herself to be alone in a room with a man. Custom demanded that any unmarried women of noble birth always be chaperoned under such situations.
Ilmika spoke in a low voice. “My government has reason to believe that your story could be true.”
“They know of the flying machine,” he said.
“Yes. But there is more. Perkunisha knows of it, also. Moreover, they have another flying machine. They also have the man who was flying it. He is in Berlin now. The Perkunishans have tried to keep both the machines and their captive secret, but we have our ways of getting information.”
Two Hawks swore. He had been so preoccupied with his own affairs that he had not once thought of the German plane that had appeared at the same time the Hiawatha had gone through the gate. Of course! The German aviator must also have come into this world.
“You are in great danger.” Ilmika said. “Just as we know about this... this German... so the Perkunishans know about you. And they believe that you are from another universe. You are a threat to them because you have knowledge of weapons and machines superior to those of Eorthe. Undoubtedly, the Perkunishans plan to use the German’s knowledge and skill. But they don’t want yours to be used by their enemies. So...”
“So they’ll try to kill us the first chance they get,” Two Hawks said. “I’m surprised they haven’t already tried.”
“Maybe they’ve hesitated because, if they failed, it would convince the Hotinohsonih government that your story is not a madman’s. But now that the city will soon be under siege, they might try under cover of the confusion. They could try tonight. Or even now, during the bombing.”
“In that case, you could be in danger, too,” he said. “Your government must think me very valuable it it’s willing to risk your life in an effort to get me on its side.”
She waved a hand and said, “There are guards stationed around the house while I’m here. We’d like to leave them to protect you and O’Brien, but the Hotinohsonih might wonder why.”
Two Hawks looked up through the window at the dirigibles. He thought that if the Perkunishans wanted to kill them, they could have ordered the asylum bombed. Yet the big airships were coming nowhere near the building. It was possible that the enemy would prefer taking them alive under the old proverb that two birds, in this case three, in the hand were better than one in the bush, or underground.
This might be true. However, he was sure that the Perkunishans would have no compunctions in killing the two other-worlders if they saw they could not be taken alive.
It was also probable that the Blodlandish were thinking along the same lines. Rather than allow the Perkunishans to capture the aliens and use their knowledge, the Blodlandish would kill the two.
Nobody loves us, Two Hawks thought. He laughed then. It was two against a hostile world. So be it. Whatever happened to him and O’Brien, the others would have to pay a price.
Two Hawks, grinning, turned away from the window to face the Lady Thorrsstein. He said, “So why doesn’t your government tell the Hotinohsonih what they know? The Hotinohsonih could throw up a guard around the asylum or else hustle us off to a safe place.”
He was surprised to see her blush. Evidently, she was not a professional agent. She had some sense of honor and was only being used because she had a legitimate reason to visit him.
“I don’t know,” she said. She hesitated, then blurted, “Yes, I do! I was told that the Hotinohsonih wouldn’t let you go. They’d keep you for themselves, and that’d be stupid! They don’t have time to develop anything you might give them. They’ll be too busy fighting for their land, which they’re going to lose in any case. Telling them about you would be throwing you away.
“You must get to Blodland. We have the brains and the materials and the engineers and the time to use them. The Hotinohsonih can’t hold out for long.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “They have lots of country to go yet. Losing ‘Estokwa doesn’t mean they’re licked.”
He thought of the great sectors of territory gobbled up by the Germans in Russia, the staggering losses of men and material suffered by the Russians. Yet, they were not only still fighting; they were driving the Germans back. Of course, the Russians could not have done this without American supplies, and this world had no America.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll go to England.”
“Where?”
“Pardon me. Blodland. The question is, how do we get there?”
“You be ready,” she said. “Tonight at midnight.”
“You can’t get me out of here without force,” he said. “Are your men going to shoot their way in? Maybe kill citizens of your allies? Couldn’t that create a serious diplomatic situation? And if it’s unsuccessful, wouldn’t the Hotinohsonih catch onto the fact that they might have something very valuable in their possession?”
“Never mind that. We know what might happen.”
She rose to her feet. “This man O’Brien. Is he well enough to get out under his own power?�
�
“He isn’t up to running very far or very fast,” Two Hawks said. He frowned. It was obvious that the Blodlandish would not leave O’Brien behind to be used by Hotinohsonih or Perkunishans. Not alive anyway.
“If you kill him,” he said, “the deal’s off. You’ll have to kill me, too.”
She looked shocked. He wondered if she were acting or if she really had not considered such a possibility.
“I... I’m sure my people wouldn’t do such a thing. You don’t know us. We’re not savages. We are Blodlandish.”
He grinned and said, “Secret agents are alike—German, Yankee, Russian, Perkunishan, Hotinohsonih, Blodlandish, you name them. National security is at stake, and murder means nothing to preserve it.
“All right. Come for us. But you damn well be sure to tell your people that I don’t go unless O’Brien goes.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” she cried. Her face was red, and her eyes were narrowed. “You... you...”
“Commoner. Savage,” he said. “Where I come from, we don’t have royalty or nobility or any such parasitical and oppressive classes. It’s true we have our parasites and oppressors, but they’re not usually born to that condition. They achieve it through hard work or connivery. Everybody is born equal—in theory, anyway. The practice isn’t perfect, but it’s better than none.
“And don’t forget I’m from a world more advanced than yours. There you’d be the barbarian, the ignorant and not-too-clean savage, not me. And the fact that here you’re a direct descendant of the great Dane Thorrsstein Blothaxe and of King Hrothgar doesn’t mean an ox-turd to me. I’d tell you to put that in your pipe and smoke it, except it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”
Her face twisted and turned red; she spun on her high heels so violently that she almost fell. He was still chuckling after the door slammed behind her. A moment later, he did not think things so funny. O’Brien could not go far before needing a rest. Then what?
The Gate of Time Page 7