The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (12 page)

“Destroyed?” said Ethan. It was the inflection in Hunnar’s voice and not the word itself that prompted his curiosity.

“Yes. The Horde burns them so that no word can be given of their passage. Indeed, it forbids their construction. But many feign ignorance and rebuild them.”

“Horde?” probed September disinterestedly. “What Horde?”

“I fear you will have chance to discover,” replied Hunnar. “We have a while to wait. I should like to learn more about you, and your amazing sky-raft, in that time.”

“There isn’t a great deal you would under … find interesting, Sir Hunnar,” said Ethan. “But I’ll be happy to show you around. Now, if I had my damned sample case with me …”

In the discussion that preceded the arrival of the sled-raft, Hunnar revealed a fair knowledge of basic astronomy. Tran-ky-ky rarely had cloudy weather for any length of time, Ethan reflected thoughtfully.

After Williams had answered several pointed questions about his home world and the ship, Hunnar asked if the little schoolteacher was a wizard. When informed that he was a teacher, the knight shrugged off the difference. No doubt, he reflected, Williams and Malmeevyn Eer-Meesach, wizard to the Landgrave himself, would have things to say to one another. Certainly Williams did not try to hide his own enthusiasm at the prospect of such a meeting.

Williams tried to explain a full-sized KK-drive ship to the knight. Hunnar would have none of it. Nothing that big could be made out of metal.

“Why does it not land to pick you up?” he asked.

“Little reasons aside,” answered Williams, “it can’t. No KK-drive ship could. It would make an awful mess of this part of your world.”

“Ha!” grunted Hunnar. A ship of metal that large. Did they take him for a complete fool?

Likewise he could not grasp the concept of weightlessness. But gravity he understood. When you cut a man’s head off, it fell down. “Colette looked a little ill when September helpfully translated this for her. Also, he knew of the gutorrbyn and krokim and other flying things that were odd but clearly not weightless. He’d killed enough of them to know that.

The tran examined the inert body of the dead Kotabit with interest. In the icebox climate it hadn’t decayed at all, for which Ethan was grateful. An experienced warrior might have been able to tell that the human’s broken neck had not come from, say, being thrown against the console. But corpses, even alien ones, were not the items of prime interest. The control board, with its now frosted knobs and dials, drew longer stares. At the same time, Ethan and September were learning about Tran-ky-ky from Hunnar.

Wannome, it developed, was the capital and only near-city of a large island named Sofold. Sofold lay oh-so-many kijat to the west. It also claimed sovereignty over a number of smaller nearby islands. This tiny islet they’d smashed up against was one. A few, larger than this, were garrisoned and settled.

Wannome Sound was an excellent natural harbor and supported a flourishing commerce. There were active hot springs on the island crest. These provided a natural location for the small but vital foundry and the smithies. The island was also rich in deposits of certain metals but had to trade for others.

Cultivation was widespread. Like most inhabited islands, Sofold was virtually self-sufficient foodwise. Gathering of wild pika-pina, which grew back as fast as it could be harvested, was also a major industry.

When Ethan asked if they also harvested the much larger pika-pedan, Sir Hunnar threw him an odd stare. Suaxus whined mirthfully.

Only the foolishly brave or the ignorant tried to make a living gathering the pika-pedan, he explained. It was on the pika-pedan that the stavanzer grazed.

“Stavanzer? What’s a stavanzer?” asked September interestedly.

Again Ethan’s mestaped memory came up with a blank on fauna. “I don’t remember. I get the feeling I should, but there’s nothing … It’s all on the edge … must be a mental block. Won’t come. Why? You planning on starting a ranch?”

September smiled. “Fanning isn’t one of my multitude of talents,” he said.

“Oh, wait a sec. I do remember what the name means.”

“Yeah?” prompted the big man.

“Thunder-eater.”

September pursed his lips. “Sounds harmless enough. Okay, so we don’t volunteer for any pika-pedan pruning expeditions, what? Ask him about the local thieves … government.”

The much-mentioned Council, it seemed, was composed of local dignitaries and nobles who served as administrators, mayors, and justices-of-the-peace of the countryside. The Council was presided over by the hereditary Landgrave, whose word was final but could be challenged in Council.

The Landgrave’s hereditary power was rooted in his ancestry. A great portion of his personal wealth and treasury was derived from customs fees and commerce taxes.

“What sort of bird is your Landgrave?” asked September.

“Fearless, brilliant, a genius at administration and a true wizard of decision,” replied Hunnar. He leaned over and whispered to the two humans. “He’s as tough as a year-old piece of vol jerky, but if you talk true with him from the first, you’ll do well enough.”

“He sounds most imposing … a true leader,” replied Ethan loudly. Then he lowered his voice in return.

“I understand. We’ve one like that ourselves … sometimes.”

Hunnar nodded, then looked uncertain. “Sometimes?”

“I do not fully understand myself, Sir Hunnar. Some day soon, perhaps … He has a disease of age … and something more, I think.” He looked up, smiled, stopped when he noticed Hunnar draw away.

“Sorry. I forgot that showing one’s teeth is not a sign of friendship among meat-eaters.”

“Truly a strange custom of yours,” agreed the knight.

“That’s something else we’ve got to attend to.” He looked evenly at Hunnar. “While I’m sure your chefs are the noblest practitioners of their art on the planet, we do have a certain amount of our own foodstuffs we’d like to bring along.”

“If the quantity is not great, there should be plenty of space on the raft.”

“And it’s about time we set to moving it outside,” said September.

“I was afraid you might bring that up,” Ethan sighed.

The sled-raft was awkward-looking but solid. Twenty meters long by ten wide, a bluff, no-nonsense triangular shape in hard wood, it was built from heavy timbers. There was a matted floor of some vegetable material and a wooden rail running around it at waist level. Tran waist level.

There was a crew of four. The owner, a merchant named Ta-hoding, stared at the ruined lifeboat with an open and unabashed greed that Ethan found positively homey.

A single mast was set about a third of the way back from the pointed bow. This supported a single large square sail held between two sturdy crossbeams top and bottom. The raft rested on three sharpened runners of gray stone, two at the rear corners and a slightly smaller one at the front. The two at the stern were connected to a double wheel that took two sailors to handle.

“A handsome ship,” Ethan said to the captain.

“My ancestors are forever honored to have you on board my pitiful craft, great visitors from the stars! My sire is forever in your honor. My family shall bask in the glow of your radiances forever. My cubs and mate …”

Ta-hoding continued to heap suffocating praise on his passengers until September whispered something to Hunnar that Ethan missed.

“No, it wasn’t supposed to be made known to the general public,” replied the knight. “Actually, the Landgrave desired it be kept as quiet as possible. However, where money is concerned …” He shrugged, a very human gesture. Ethan was beginning to get an inkling of just how much wealth their ruined lifeboat represented hereabouts.

“I see,” said September. He caught another crate of survival rations the soldiers were passing up and stacked it on the wooden deck. It took two soldiers considerable effort to lift the box up to him. Hunnar watched the operation silently. September wasn’t sure whether or not the knight had caught the ease with which he’d handled the first crate. Damn! The big man strained almost theatrically on the next ones.

“A beacon that will shine …” Ta-hoding was following the other humans around, still spouting hosannas.

“Pardon me,” began Williams, and Ethan gratefully slipped away as the schoolteacher rescued him from the seemingly endless assault of frozen platitudes.

“Why are your vessel’s runners made of stone?” Williams asked.

“Alas,” said the captain, “wood wears away too quickly and metal is beyond the reach of even wealthy men, which I assuredly am not … There is a great raft, owned in whole by the people of Vad Ozero, six times the size of my poor craft. Its sails would cover a large inn and it has runners made from solid stavanzer backbone.” He shook his head mournfully. “The ease with which it turns, yea, even into the wind. The maneuverability, the sensuous ’lide of it under full sail, the speed, the profits … ah, the profits!”

Yes, alien though he may be, here was a being that was one with him in spirit, Ethan reflected. A race of philosophers with long beards who scorned material wealth might exist in the galaxy—somewhere. Thus far they remained undiscovered.

“I think that’s it,” said September with satisfaction, and it was. Ethan found himself looking forward to the sight of Hunnar’s home.

Hunnar watched the last of the humans clamber aboard. “We are ready then?” He turned to the captain.

“Let out, Ta-hoding! We are aboarded!”

“As your boldness commands,” effused the skipper. “I bask in the light of—”

“I’m not one of your customers, Hoding,” Hunnar barked in reply. “The Landgrave is paying you, so don’t waste any of your flattery on me.” He turned to his first squire.

“Suaxus, take Smjör and report in for us. If the wind blows true, we should follow you by ten tuvits. Make also a report to the Longax and see that the wizard is aroused. If he awaits you not already with slavering tongue. Straight this time, with none of your bloodthirsty embellishments, mind.”

“Done, sir,” acknowledged Suaxus, a trifle coldly, Ethan thought. “Thou canst depend on me.”

Hunnar replied with another of those tight-lipped smiles. He exchanged breath with the other. Although there was no obvious difference in their age, Hunnar seemed to Ethan years the eldest.

“I know I can, Suaxus. Wind with you.”

Suaxus clapped his knight on one shoulder. Then he yelled for Smjör and disappeared over the side of the raft. Leaning over the rail, Ethan could see them streaking off at an angle to the southwest. Soon they’d probably begin tacking back against the wind, eating up the distance to their home.

It was no surprise that a single native could move faster than the bulky raft. He turned away from the wind and rubbed at the ice crystals that had formed on his upper lip.

The raft boasted a single wooden cabin. It rested squat against the back of the single thick mast. A summer day to the locals it might be, but he was just plain cold. Inside, the du Kanes were huddled up against a residual pile of trading goods, well away from the tiny windows.

The purpose of some of the objects in the pile was obvious. And what looked like a small stove had a pipe leading into the flat roof. It wasn’t lit.

Williams was sitting by the door. As usual, Walther had crammed himself into the furthest, darkest corner.

“Well, it’s a long way from first class,” Ethan essayed in a feeble attempt at humor, “but on such short notice …”

Colette just glared back at him. Williams said nothing either. He was totally absorbed in examining the interior of the cabin.

“See?” he said, pointing to a joint in one wall. “They use notched logs and wooden pegs, reinforced in the difficult places with iron and bronze nails. Most of the implements on that stove are bronze, but a few are beaten copper and the stove itself is iron. There are one or two steel-tipped spears in that locker, back there. The handles have the most beautiful scroll-work.”

“Must be Ta-hoding’s pride and joy,” Ethan commented, mentally guessing at the artifact’s curio value.

“I should not be at all surprised,” the schoolmaster agreed. “I found nothing like pottery. Water would freeze on the potter’s wheel.”

The raft gave a sudden lurch. Colette squeaked.

“
Now
what’s happening?” she moaned.

“I,” said Ethan with commendable enterprise, “will go and see.”

“I think the captain has turned his vessel slightly into the wind,” informed Williams. “Shortly we should …”

His voice faded as Ethan left the sheltering cabin. He rounded the side and stepped into the wind. He wasn’t used to it but it was no longer unique enough to warrant a curse. September was up near the pointed bow, in conversation with Hunnar.

The sail cracked. They were following the course taken by Suaxus and Smjör, who by now were well out of sight. The two turned as he came up to them.

“Be your companions well?” inquired the knight solicitously.

“As well as can be expected, Hunnar.” He glanced up at September. “Walther sits in his corner and glares at nothing in particular. Colette is alternately brazen and scared, her father says nothing until he has to, and Williams is too busy taking mental notes to notice much of anything.”

“And you, young feller-me-lad?” The wind whipped a single loose strand of white hair across his forehead.

“Me? Well, I’m …” Come to think of it, he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to consider his own feelings. “I’m cold.”

“A pithy summation, lad.” He moved to clap Ethan on the back again. This time Ethan avoided it, grinning. The wind clawed at his face.

“We’re really picking up speed.” The sail fluttered and rattled between the bracing spars.

One sailor was positioned at either end of the lower spar while Ta-hoding and the other manhandled the double wheel. The captain was carefully trying to match wind speed with desired direction. His eye moved continually from sky to sail to ice.

“Stand ready!” he bellowed above the howling atmosphere. Then, “Hard over!” and he was straining furiously at the wheel, forcing it to the right.

The raft slowly began to move to starboard. There was a split second when it was facing directly into the wind and the mainsail snapped back against the mast with a crack like shattered planking. The two spar men pushed and pulled as one, the sail snapped into a new configuration, and they were traveling at high speed to the northwest.