She cut off the machine. ‘There’s more. Not a lot more words, but a lot more music, and very repetitive. That’s what Erickson suggested – that I record a group of viggies near a Presence without a Password. Well, I got lucky, I hid. I heard them singing off in the night, and I recorded that first thing.
‘However, the translator could only give me a few words. I doubt if any translator, up until now, could have done even that. It told me it needed more, lots more. So, I hid in a hole in that cliff up there for over a week, recording viggy songs and chatter and describing what they were doing until the translator had enough that it could start to give it to me clearly. We got words for water and fingers and sleep right away, but it took some time to get the rest. The viggy language is more complex than you can imagine. Once I had the translation, I learned their words, then came here and sang the thing. That’s what I used. I sang that to the Enigma, all of it, for about an hour. I don’t have much voice, but it didn’t take much. You heard it. Simple.’
‘And you were recording whatever sounds the Presence made?’
‘Of course. At first, only noise. Whatever different kinds of noise there are. Like back in the valley, like most places, just a garble, a kind of whistling, chuckling, squeaking, snoring noise. But as I sang, it quieted down. I’d already figured out what questions I wanted to ask. Do you have a name for yourself you would like me to use? I thought that would get us off on the right foot. So, as soon as everything was quiet, I sang that. Loudly.’
‘And the answer was, as I recall from when you played it for us, Messengers know to whom they come. Right?’ asked Jamieson.
‘Right. Not exactly responsive, but it did make sense. So, I thought I’d give it some information at that point. I sang, I am not one of the usual messengers.’
Clarin said, ‘And the reply to that was None of them are.’
‘That’s right. Up until that point, everything had been very peaceful. Then I started to go on to my next question. The minute I started, it shook. Just a little, and only on one side, but I thought – well, I thought, hell, I had enough. I’m no linguist, no philologist, no specialist in alien communication. Suppose I slashed it off, all unwitting. So I went back to the first song, the peaceful water one, and I sang that while I backed off.’
‘So your intention is to repeat that sequence?’ Clarin asked again, staring upward. ‘With us as witnesses.’
‘Why didn’t we try it on some other Presence, something closer to where we were?’ Jamieson wanted to know, also staring upward. There was something ominous about the bloody glare coming from the Enigma, something threatening about the darting, dancing light.
‘I tried the viggy music on some other things, and it didn’t work. Evidently it’s specific to this Presence. And I haven’t had time to record any other viggy songs and try anywhere else.’
‘Would you say the viggies are sentient?’ Clarin asked.
‘I didn’t think so before,’ Don cried. ‘I thought of that, of course, because the translator was taking their babble and making words out of it. Nobody has ever seriously alleged that they were. They’re so elusive. It would have been hard to prove. But, yes. Once the translator began to make words out of their songs, I believed they were. Not that they’ve offered to talk to me to prove it.’
‘Which isn’t the point right now anyhow,’ said Tasmin. ‘Anybody want to stay down here?’ He looked Jamieson full in the eye. ‘You should, you know, Reb. Stay here with Clarin and the translator. You’ll be able to hear, but you should be out of danger. Then if something happens to Don and me, you two can still carry the word.’
‘Master Ferrence?’
‘Yes, Reb.’
‘With all due respect, Sir. Of the two of us, I’m quicker. I agree that some of us should stay down here. You, Sir. And Clarin.’ His eyes were clear as he said it. He didn’t look toward Clarin, though Donatella knew he wanted to.
‘He’s right,’ Donatella agreed. ‘You’re good, Tasmin. But he’s better.’
‘Ah, the confidence of youth,’ Tasmin said, smiling weakly. They were right, of course. He should be able to accept it without its hurting, but damn it, it did hurt. Jamieson had never been afraid to try things, even forbidden things, even foolish things. And it told. He had learned, learned along the edges where Tasmin had always forbidden himself to go.
‘Luck, Reb,’ he said at last, biting his lip. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Loudsingers,’ gasped one of the troupe of Chowdri, galloping wildly into the camp, antennae waving. ‘Loudsingers on the Mad One.’
‘Who dares?’ cried Chowdri. ‘What Loudsinger dares? Has not the Mad One killed enough of them?’
‘Same one as last time,’ the messenger chanted, breathlessly. ‘The female one. And one called Tasmin and one called Reb and one called Clarin.’
‘Tasmin!’ called Bondri, thrusting through the surrounding troupe members, Vivian close behind him. ‘Tasmin Ferrence?’
‘They are holding a song captive in a box,’ the messenger cried. ‘I heard it. The female one has it.’
The troupes rose with one accord. ‘I cannot let Tasmin Ferrence come to harm,’ Bondri chanted. ‘He is part of the debt.’
‘Neither can the song be left captive,’ Chowdri asserted, showing his fangs.
‘Let me talk to him,’ Vivian cried. ‘I’ll make him understand, Bondri. There’s no need for violence.’
‘Hurry then,’ he sang. ‘Go quick. I will bring the baby.’
‘Down there,’ said Chantiforth Bins, pointing to a ridge along the side of the Enigma. ‘See them, Myrony? Spider? Just to the left of that tall splinter.’
Chantiforth Bins had gone on to Deepsoil Five from Harmony, and in Deepsoil Five he had found Myrony and Spider Geroan – along with Aphrodite Sells and two unhappy Explorers. The Explorers had left for the Deepsoil Coast. Affy was still in Deepsoil Five with Spider’s man. Chanty, Myrony, and Spider had decided to come to the Enigma and give it one more try before returning to the Coast themselves. After all, where else could their various quarries be heading?
Now they stood almost where Tasmin had when he saw Lim and Celcy die, looking down on the area between the Enigma towers from the north. Beneath them the ground quivered in a ceaseless tremor.
‘I see ’em,’ Myrony admitted nervously. ‘Now what?’
‘Slash ’em off and get back to Splash One,’ Cantiforth said, lifting his rifle.
‘No,’ said Spider Geroan.
‘Whattaya mean, no,’ Myrony objected. ‘That’s what we came for, Geroan. Get rid of the Tripsinger and the Explorer, and there both of ’em are, down by the splinter.’
That’s the wrong one,’ said Spider Geroan. ‘He’s only an acolyte. Where’s the right one? Ferrence?’
‘Ah,’ Myrony remarked. ‘Yer right, ya know. There’s the fuckin’ Tripsinger. I see his robe. Down there at the bottom, with the girl. He’s out o’ range.’
‘So, slash off these two, then go down and get those two, what’s the fuss.’ Chantiforth was in a hurry. Things were happening back on the Deepsoil Coast. Things that might threaten the profit from this whole job if he didn’t get there soon to protect his rights. He lifted the rifle again.
‘No,’ said Spider again. ‘You hit these two up here, those two down there are going to see it. They’ll run off, back into the range most likely, where we can’t follow.’ Spider narrowed his eyes in concentration.
‘I told you we should’a brought those Explorers.’
‘What good would that have done?’ As ever, Spider’s voice was quite expressionless. ‘They said there was no way they could get us by the Enigma, and everyone in Deepsoil Five agreed with them. You can’t use a noodle to beat bantigons, Bins. It’s all going to work out anyhow.’
‘Damned if I see how. The fuckin’ man is out o’ range.’
‘She’s the one that came up with the Enigma score,’ Chantiforth observed. ‘She’s going to sing it right now, isn’t she? What else would s
he be here for? Well. That gives us some time.’
Spider nodded. ‘While they’re occupied, we’ll sneak down behind these ’lings. You and Myrony hide there, as near the Explorer and the acolyte as you can get. I’ll go on down and get into range for Ferrence before you slash off these two.’
‘What about the girl with Ferrence?’
‘I’ll keep her,’ Spider said, affecting not to notice the expression of revulsion that crossed Bin’s face. It had been a very long trip, and he had not had any amusement for a long time, had not had that particular excitement that came with watching the one thing he had never experienced. He examined Clarin through his glasses. Good. He liked that type, that age. They were strong and agile, capable of many contortions and pleas before they died.
‘You’ll yodel when you’re ready?’ Myrony asked. ‘I don’t like bein’ around those fuckin’ Presences for very long.’ They started toward the gap in the Crystal through which Tasmin had stared down. ‘Wait!’
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Chantiforth demanded.
‘We take out these two first, then go on down where Spider is, and he’s done the Tripsinger, then this Presence starts to shake and jiggle, how do we get back over the top here to get back to town? Affy’s there, waitin’ for us.’
‘He’s right, you know,’ Bins said to Geroan. ‘Our mules are back there in Deepsoil Five. And all our supplies. I’m not eager to live off the country all the way back to the Coast. Even if we don’t go to the Coast, it’s a long hike around by way of Harmony.’
Spider ruminated. ‘All right. I’ll make a small change in plan. Do it just the way we’d said. You go on down a little way and cover these two in case there’s trouble. I’ll go all the way down and take out the Tripsinger and the girl first. These two up here won’t be paying any attention; they’ll be busy with their boxes. I’ll come back up, meet you, then we’ll all come back up here to the top before we slash off the Explorer and the acolyte. Kind of spoils it for me, but that’s the way we’ll do it.’ Though it did not show on his face, Spider was disappointed. He did not tolerate disappointment well, and only by substituting a mental image of Aphrodite Sells for Clarin in his plans for the next day or so was he able to feel quite comfortable.
The others had no objection. They stood quietly, checking their weapons, waiting for the tremors to cease.
There,’ sang Bondri. ‘That one is Tasmin Ferrence. Prime Priest Favel said he had hair that color.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Vivian. ‘That’s Tasmin all right. Keep the baby here, Bondri, will you?’ And she slipped out of the grove of settler’s brush and made her way toward Tasmin and Clarin.
Behind her, the viggy messenger who had brought the earlier word returned again. ‘More Loudsingers,’ he sang softly to the assembled troups. ‘On the Mad One’s back. High against the sky.’
‘Ready?’ asked Donatella, her fingers poised over the box.
‘Ready,’ nodded Jamieson, grinning. He stared around him at the little flat place between the towering scarlet peaks. He wanted to remember it, just as it was. His mind felt like there were flames leaping over it, laughing flames. He remembered every score he had ever sung, every one he had ever seen! ‘Ready,’ exultantly.
Their hands came down together and the music began.
‘The men at the top of the Mad One have weapons,’ sang the messenger. ‘They are pointing them at the people of Tasmin Ferrence.’
‘Tasmin,’ cried Vivian. ‘Tasmin, you’ve got to get your people down from up there. Please!’
‘Move now,’ Spider Geroan directed. The quivering of the ground had lessened enough that they could move securely upon it. ‘Move fast, and keep out of sight.’
* * *
‘Let the troupes of Bondri and Chowdri surround the men with weapons,’ urged Bondri. ‘A debt of honor is about to come unstuck.’
‘It is not our debt,’ demurred Chowdri.
‘It is the debt of Prime Priest Favel,’ Bondri trilled. ‘Prime Priests are of all troupes.’
The troupes sang this for a few moments in several variations. No one could deny that it was true. Though some sang that a debt incurred before a viggy became Prime Priest might not be binding on all troupes, this was a minority voice, which became only a haunting anharmonic in the finished song.
‘Go then,’ urged Chowdri, somewhat grudgingly. ‘Go to the Mad One, the Presence Without Innerness, the Killer Without Cause, called by the Loudsingers, the Enigma. Fulfill the debt.’
‘Vivian! How did you get here?’
‘The viggies brought me, Tasmin. Listen, there’s no time for questions. The viggies say that the Enigma will kill anyone who tries to sing it quiet. The Enigma is crazy.’
‘Donatella did it before.’
‘Not really. It wasn’t awake, and she got on and then off before it woke up, is all. It’s wide awake today. Tasmin, get her off of there.’
While Tasmin was still staring at Vivian, trying to make sense of what she was saying, Clarin did not wait. Some deep apprehension within herself was verified by Vivian’s first words, and she darted up the slope at a dead run while Tasmin watched helplessly from below, unable even to follow for Vivian was now clinging to his arm. ‘Tasmin, do you have a recording of a viggy song? Tasmin! Do you?’
He tried to focus on her question. ‘Yes. Donatella played it just a little while ago.’
‘You’ve got to give it back to them, Tasmin.’
‘Give it back!’
‘Wipe it out. Something. They’ll try to take it from you, Tasmin, and some of them could be killed. They saved me. They saved Miles. They’ve got Celcy’s baby, Tasmin! Oh, don’t ask how, why. Don’t ask questions, just tell me you will.’
The music was building slowly into a rhythmic pattern, Jamieson’s voice softly soaring, leaping, like the wind. Beneath the sound, the Enigma quieted, shivering almost into silence. Still, there was a quiver.
‘It took me almost an hour last time,’ Donatella whispered.
Jamieson nodded, never losing the line of melody. His eyes swung between the two towers of the Enigma. As they moved between the two, he saw Clarin coming up the trail. ‘She’s in a tearing hurry,’ he told himself, still singing. There was someone with Tasmin on the flatland, pointing and gesturing….
‘It’s still shakin’ a little,’ whispered Myrony.
‘Well, wait until it quits,’ Chantiforth replied. They were working their way down toward the pillars that bordered the clearing where Jamieson was singing. Spider had started before them and was halfway down to the scree slopes on which Tasmin stood.
‘Somebody coming up,’ hissed Chanty. ‘Lie flat and be still.’
They peered between tumbled bits of crystal, watching Clarin as she came toward them up the mountain, panting and pulling herself along at speed. Just a little below them she stopped, positioning herself against a pillar, gasping for breath.
‘What in hell,’ thought Jamieson, not for a moment interrupting the song. Clarin was gesturing, imperatively. He began a repetition, a phrase that was sung again and again, in ascending keys, only to hear her voice moving with him.
‘An-dar-ououm,’ he sang.
‘Bro-oo-ther,’ she sang in thirds below, clear as a bell.
The danger call! The recognition call! His eyes darted around him, he turned. Nothing!
‘An-dar-ououm,’ he sang, his voice rising.
‘Bro-oo-ther,’ in thirds.
Jamieson beckoned to Donatella and began to move down, away, away from the bloody ground between the spires, down toward Clarin, never stopping the song.
‘An-dar-ououm,’ he sang again, voice soaring.
‘An-dar-ououm,’ came half a hundred voices from all around him.
Viggies! In the shadow of crystal he could see their eyes glowing behind the ruby orbs of inflated song-sacks. ‘An-dar-ououm, an-dar-ououm.’
Then he and Donatella were beside Clarin, the three of them moving downward, swiftly, letting the
viggies take the song.
‘What’s the matter?’ Donatella demanded. ‘Why did you cry “brother”?’
‘Save your breath, Don. Just get down and out of the way of this thing. According to the viggies, it’s going to blow.’
‘Blow! It’s quiet as a tomb, and getting quieter all the time.’ Donatella stopped, turned as though to go back up the mountain. ‘Is that viggies singing?’
‘Trying to give us time to get out of the way. Us and themselves. Move, will you.’ Clarin grabbed Donatella’s arm and forcibly turned her. ‘Move, down. If we’re wrong you can always come back….’
Then they were down off the ramp and running toward Tasmin and Vivian and Miles and a dozen young viggies who were all staring at the Enigma and at one another with open mouths, immobilized by strangeness.
A quiver.
A small quiver, as though a rug had been pulled beneath their feet. The song was running away, trickling off the mountain on a wave of viggy feet, fleeing. The rug moved once more, this time a good tug. Donatella staggered. The viggies threw themselves down, gesturing, calling in Loudsinger language, ‘Down, down, hold on, tumble down coming.’
And then it came, thunder, the mountain heaving, the spires shimmering, seeming actually to bend and sway as all around them the smaller pillars shattered and roared.
Fragments spun across the sky, glittering shards of bloody light, edged like knives.
Chunks rained from the top of ’lings, bounding, shattering, ricocheting in hissing trajectories.
Against the sky the twin tines of the Enigma shouted, a howling cataract of threat and danger.
The Translator, set at the top of its volume, roared.
‘You’d think after all this time they could get it right.’ Donatella’s voice become the voice of a giant.
Then ‘That was petulant of you.’ Donatella’s monstrous voice again.
Then ‘It pisses me off when they don’t know who I am….’ Donatella’s voice. As it had been Lim’s voice, that other time.
On the height, two figures staggered to their feet, one of them carrying a rifle. A spinning shard took off his head, the shard no redder than the blood that spouted high in a momentary jet. The other figure fell and was swallowed up in a dancing fountain of razor-edged boulders.
The Enigma Score Page 31