They both laughed.
“Ten years!” Lapponen spun the tiny hammer. “Like Shumakher? Time flies, and we’re just standing here blabbing away. All right then, let’s take a look.”
He stood and picked up the folder.
“Now they have to look at every car. And I’m required to be present. It’s the times, you know.”
“I know.”
“The law is the law.”
“The law makes us human,” said the blond.
Lapponen grew serious, and sighed. “Well put, Nikolai. If only all Russians understood that.”
They walked over to the train. The customs inspection began. In each refrigerator car the Ice was sawed into identical metrical cubes. The last car was only one-third full.
“Didn’t have enough ice in Siberia, is that it?” Lapponen laughed and stamped the customs statement.
“They didn’t make the loading date,” the blond said, taking the documents and putting them in his briefcase.
Lapponen held out his hand. “Have a good trip, Nikolai.”
“Have a good stay, Mr. Lapponen,” said the blond, and shook his hand.
The customs officers went back into the building, the blond to the head of the train. He climbed the rungs of the locomotive and closed the door after him. A green light shone down the tracks; the train started up and began to crawl along slowly. The blond opened the door of the salon. The salon was delicately illuminated by a soft blue light; it was decorated in a high-tech style, with soft lilac-gray furniture, a transparent bar, and four small sleeping compartments. The second driver dozed in an armchair; behind him, dishes clinked in the hands of a strapping blond woman, the conductor.
“That’s it,” said the blond man as he sat down in an armchair and placed his briefcase on a glass shelf.
“It takes so long now,” said the strawberry-haired engine driver, stretching as he woke up.
“Times have changed for the meat.” The blond yawned, taking off his jacket and placing it on a hanger. “Mir, give me — ”
“Some gray tea,” the conductor finished his sentence, her dark-blue eyes glancing at him.
“That’s right. And add four plums.”
The attendant did as asked and brought him a tray. “You didn’t sleep at all, Lavu.”
“Sleep is with me,” he answered and took a bite of plum.
The attendant sat down near him, put her head on his lap, and fell asleep immediately.
Lavu ate the plums and drank the grayish infusion. He closed his eyes. The second engineer followed his example.
The train gained speed and passed through the forest.
Forty-eight minutes later it slowed down, switched off the main tracks, and crawled slowly through a dense forest of fir trees. Soon the gentle slope of a hill and huge silver-colored gates with the blue sign ICE could be seen through the forest. The train moved up to the gates and gave a signal. The gates began to open.
The sleepers in the salon woke up.
“Thanks be to the Light,” declared Lavu.
The attendant and the second engineer squeezed his hands.
The train passed through the gates and into a dark tunnel leading underground. But it wasn’t dark for long. Not far ahead, light cut through the darkness and on both sides narrow platforms with smooth, shining blue-and-white walls were visible.
The train stopped.
A large group of guards in blue uniforms immediately appeared, and workers in white coveralls and helmets arrived on hydraulic loaders. Lavu, briefcase in hand, was the first to step out onto the platform; ignoring everyone, he headed at a fast pace for a glass elevator in the middle of it. He took out an electronic key and placed it in a three-sided recess. The elevator doors opened soundlessly, and Lavu entered. The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent. It stopped quickly. Lavu stepped out and found himself in front of a massive steel door monitored by a video camera. The door had another three-sided recess for an electronic key. He placed the key in it. The doors opened onto a large, bright, greenish-blue, completely empty hall with a huge mosaic of the ICE Corporation logo covering the entire floor: two crossed Ice hammers against a flaming crimson heart. On the heart stood a thin, gray-haired old man dressed in white, with a white, neatly trimmed beard. His yellowish-blue eyes regarded Lavu attentively. Lavu placed the briefcase on the marble floor.
“Shua!”
“Lavu!”
They embraced. The old man was far
wiser
in heart. Therefore, knowing what a long journey Lavu had had, he
restrained
his heart, allowing it only a short, gentle
flare
— a brotherly greeting.
Lavu froze in the old man’s embrace with relief: Shua’s heart always gave him an
unearthly
peace.
The old man was the first to break the embrace; his wrinkled but firm hand touched Lavu’s face. In American-accented English he said, “The Light is with us.”
“The Light is in your heart, brother Shua,” said Lavu, regaining consciousness.
The old man looked straight at Lavu’s young face as though seeing him for the first time. He had retained the ability to
rejoice
at meeting every brother as if for the first time, as though discovering a close and intimate heart once again. This gave the old man
enormous
strength. Shua’s heart
could see
farther and deeper than many Brothers of the Light.
“You are tired after your trip,” Shua continued, taking Lavu by the hand. “Let’s go.”
Lavu took a step, but turned around, looking at the blue briefcase he had left on the floor. It stood right on one of the huge mosaic Ice hammers, its color blending with the Ice and almost entirely disappearing.
“It’s not necessary now,” Shua smiled. “No one needs it anymore.”
They left the hall and entered Shua’s apartment right away. Here everything was simple and functional; all the rooms were made of stone in cold hues. Shua led Lavu into the room of Peace. Lavu was met by brothers Kdo and Ai, who greeted him with a heart embrace, undressed him, rubbed him with oils, placed him in a labradorite bathtub with herbal infusions, and then drew back. Shua gave him a bowl of berry tea.
Lavu took a swallow of the tea from the bowl, and lay back on the stone ledge. “I don’t yet believe it,” he said. “My heart
knows
, but my reason doesn’t want to believe.”
“Your reason is sometimes stronger than your heart,” the old man replied.
“Yes. And it upsets me.”
“Don’t be upset. You brain has accomplished a great deal for the Brotherhood.”
“Thank the Light.”
“Thank the Light,” the old man repeated.
Silence hung in the room. Lavu took another sip, and licked his lips. “What should I do now?”
“Today you will fly to Khram. She requires help. It will also help your heart.”
Lavu didn’t answer. He drank the tea slowly and silently. All the while the old man sat immobile, some distance away. Finally Lavu placed the empty bowl on the wide edge of the tub, stood up, and stepped out of the greenish water. The old man handed him a long robe and helped him to put it on. They went into the dining room. Here six large candles were burning, and there was a round table with fruits. Shua took a bunch of dark-blue grapes, Lavu chose a peach. They ate silently until they were full.
“Why is Khram calling me?” asked Lavu.
“She
is meeting
you,” Shua answered.
Lavu’s heart
throbbed
. And
understood
. He trembled.
“She needs a Circle.” Lavu’s lips moved, his voice barely audible.
“She needs a strong Circle,” Shua echoed. “A Circle of those who
know
the Ice. Now you will be with her. Until the end.”
“But you are stronger in heart than I am. Why aren’t you with her?”
“I cannot leave the Arsenal. I am
holding it
with my heart.”
Lavu
understood
.
Shua’s yellowish-blue eyes watched attentively. His heart
helped
Lavu to recall Khram. He had seen her twice. But had only spoken with her heart once. Lavu was
shocked
by this heart. It
knew
without barriers.
“When do I fly out?” he asked.
“In four and a half hours.”
Lavu controlled his shaking fingers, inhaled and exhaled.
“May I see the Arsenal for the last time?”
“Of course. We
are supposed to
go there.”
“Now. Right this minute!”
“Not now, brother Lavu. Right this minute your heart needs some deep sleep in my bedroom. You are overwrought. And you’re losing your balance. Only the strong in heart enter the Arsenal.”
“I agree,” said Lavu, calming down.
Two hours and ten minutes later they entered the elevator. Lavu had rested on Shua’s spacious bed, covered with white moss, and he looked cheerful and calm. He was wearing the same light-blue summer suit and a fresh white shirt. The elevator went down. When it stopped, large Chinese guards — with automatics — appeared before the door. Passing by them, Shua placed his palm to a blinking square. The door slid to one side. They entered the large Sawing and Grinding Workshop. Here several dozen young Chinese were at work. Their strong hands placed a metric cube of Ice onto a slowly moving conveyor, sawed it into the necessary number of rectangles, ground them down, drilled a cavity in them, polished them, and sent the readymade Ice hammer heads on their way down the conveyor belt to the Assembly Shop. Shua and Lavu moved between the rows of workers. The Chinese, paying no attention to them, went about their work intently and deftly. Their swift hands flashed by in a blur, trying to work rapidly so the Ice had no time to melt: a strict penalty was meted out for each drop. Shua and Lavu made their way slowly through the entire workshop. Beyond it was the Hides Workshop, where more young Chinese cut narrow strips from the hides of animals who had died a natural death and placed them on the conveyor belt. Next was the Handle Workshop, where handles of the necessary width and length were planed from oak branches. The two Brothers of the Light passed through this workshop as well and entered the Assembly Shop. It was the largest of the four. Entering it, Lavu stopped and closed his eyes. Shua took him carefully by the shoulders,
helped
him to overcome his fear. Lavu opened his eyes.
In this workshop, fifty-four Chinese were assembling Ice hammers. It was cold and the Chinese worked in white gloves, hats with earflaps, and blue padded cotton coats. The walls and the ceiling were decorated with traditional Chinese landscape paintings. Cold air and soothing Chinese music poured from the ceiling. The finished Ice hammers were placed onto glass conveyor shelves that descended vertically. Lavu walked over to the conveyor and stopped. His eyes followed the hammers floating downward; his heart
greeted and bade them farewell
. Each of them. Shua
understood
Lavu’s mood. The artificial light, indistinguishable from daylight, glinted off the polished hammers, sparkled on their curves, and flowed into their cavities. The Ice hammers slowly and implacably disappeared from sight.
“The power of the Ic
e..
.” Lavu’s pale lips declared.
“Will be with us.” Shua held his elbows from behind.
Lavu couldn’t tear himself away from the mesmerizing spectacle of the hammers floating down. His heart
flared
.
But Shua
supported
him: the old man’s strong hands held Lavu, his heart
directed
him, his lips whispered, “Downstairs!”
They walked to the doors of the elevator. It took them farther down. And once again they were met by guards with automatics: the Chinese guards’ eyes met theirs with indifference. To open the lowest door, Shua had not only to use his palm, but a ray of light scanned the cornea of his eye and sensitive detectors listened as he said, “Brother Shua, keeper of the Arsenal.”
Half-meter-thick steel doors opened silently. And right after them a new group of guards appeared, dressed completely in white, wearing gas masks, and carrying white automatics in white hands. They guarded the last door — a small round one made of extra-strength steel. The password of the day was the Chinese word for acorn: “
Xian xu go
!”
On hearing the password, the guards stepped aside and turned away. Shua unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, took out a platinum key that always hung around his neck, put it in an inconspicuous opening, and turned it. Invisible ice bells rang out, and the massive door moved inward and to the left. Shua and Lavu stepped through the opening. The ice sounded once again and the door shut back in place.
Before them the Arsenal of the Brotherhood of the Light was spread out.
An enormous underground cave, narrow but endlessly long, preserved hundreds of thousands of Ice hammers lying in even rows in glass cells lit from below. A low, arched ceiling hung over the sleeping Arsenal of the Brotherhood. The white marble floor tiles maintained an ideal cleanliness. Rows of glass cells were covered in hoarfrost: the constant cold preserved the precious Ice. There were no people here: only two robots, like indefatigable ants, shuttled across a monorail above the sleeping hammers, keeping track of and preserving their icy rest. A bit farther on, a glass conveyor silently filled the Arsenal with hammers newly manufactured by swift Chinese hands; the new hammers floated overhead in an endless, menacing, sparkling train, and merged into the rows of sleeping weapons.
Lavu took one step, a second, a third. Shua stood still,
letting go
of Lavu with his heart.
“The Ic
e..
.” Lavu’s lips spoke.
His fingers touched the glass cells and quivered. Lavu’s heart
quivered.
Shua came up behind him.
“There’s no more Ice
there
,” Lavu murmured. “Today I accompanied the last train.”
“Now the only Ice is here,” Shua answered calmly,
not helping
Lavu with his heart.
“Only here,” said Lavu
“Only here,” Shua repeated firmly.
Lavu’s heart
struggled
. But Shua stubbornly continued
not to help
.
Lavu sank to the floor. He exhaled. And after a long pause he said, “It’s hard for me.”