Read The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers Online
Authors: Alan Dean Foster
The little raft drew hearer. He slumped to the ice. Let them think him more sorely afflicted than he was, the better to lull any suspicions they might have of him. Stone chiv braked to a halt nearby. There was the noise of someone stepping onto the ice. Slow chivaning sounds reached him, then stopped. He waited patiently, but no further indication of movement came. Only the everpresent wind, skipping and moaning over the ice like a mournful spinster.
Best to show them he was alive. He made his voice a weak croak. “Blessed are those who give succor to the wounded in time of trouble.”
The chivaning started again, but moved not toward him. Instead, it seemed as if he was being slowly circled.
“Blessed are those who deal in justice, to reward the persistent.”
That voice sounded half familiar, despite the wind’s distorting. He rolled over, wishing for a sword. A glimpse of his hoped-for savior made his wide yellow eyes bulge wider.
“
YOU
!
”
For the first time in several days, screams rang across the ocean. They lingered, growing progressively fainter, for three days before ceasing altogether.
No one thought to question Teeliam Hoh when she sailed her tiny raft back into the harbor of Moulokin many days after the Great Battle, and none dared ask the source of the terrible content that shone in her face. She became a much-respected member of the Lady K’ferr’s household staff and lived a long and fruitful life in Moulokin. She had many pleasurable affairs and encounters, though she never mated, since relationships always faded whenever any male grew close enough to see what remained forever fixed within her eyes.
“What will you do now, friend Ethan?” Hunnar rocked awkwardly on his crutches as the
Slanderscree
heeled slightly to port.
They’d left Moulokin several days ago, promising to return and complete formal documentation of alliance between Sofold and the canyon city at first opportunity. Meanwhile the Moulokinese would sail out to spread the gospel of the Union of Ice and the confederation of all Tran among surrounding city-states and towns.
“I still have a job to return to.” Ethan spoke ruefully. “At least, I think I do. I’m a bit overdue at my next scheduled stop.”
Skua September stood nearby, his suit hood back, enjoying the minus twenty-five degree wind blowing in his face. He had one foot up on the railing and held himself steady with a massive hand entwined in the pika-pina rigging as he gazed out across the ice ocean. They had many satch to travel before reaching Brass Monkey.
“You really goin’ back to that business, young feller-me-lad?”
“It’s what I know best. If I’m lucky, I might be promoted to a management position in a few years.”
September made an impolite noise.
“M’nag, what is that, friend Ethan?” Hunnar looked curious.
“I would direct others at the job I’m doing now, supervise them. When the next Commissioner arrives here and begins recruiting a network of Tran to act as Commonwealth agents for Tran-ky-ky, he’ll be delegating similar jobs. You’d be a good candidate for one such important post, Hunnar.”
“He is candidate for no post,” said Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata, laying a possessive paw on the knight’s shoulder. With his broken leg, Hunnar was unable to draw away—not that he wished to. “Upon my father’s passing, he is to be my ruler-mate in Wannome.”
“Well, that’s a pretty good management position too,” Ethan admitted with a smile. They could see the smile through his survival-suit mask. Copying September, he slid it back, gasped as the cold air struck him.
The shock passed quickly. The wind was blowing no more than a dozen k.p.h. Coupled with the gentle temperature, it made the day seem positively tropical. He watched the white sea skim by beneath the icerigger’s duralloy runners. Perhaps he would doff the survival suit altogether, plus the clothes beneath, and enjoy a sunbath in the shelter of the central cabin.
He considered other options besides the obvious. What of the distant, wealthy Colette du Kane? By now he had acquired almost enough self-confidence to deal equally with that massively composed woman. It was a possibility he should reconsider.
Especially if he had lost his job.
“Will you come back, Sir Ethan?” Hunnar asked hopefully.
“I’d like to.”
“Me also, feller-me-lad.”
Leaving Hunnar and Elfa locked in more than just conversation, the two humans moved off across the deck.
“We’ve made a lot of friends here, Skua.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t come back just for that reason, lad.” The giant grinned that knowing grin which gave him the look of a man half devil, half prophet. “I’ve friends scattered all over the Commonwealth, on more worlds than I can remember. Fact is, I’ve other places to visit.
“There’s this gal on Alaspin, she’s an archeologist thinks she’s onto somethin’. Been wantin’ me to come ’round that way for a couple o’ years and help her out on some big dig. As I’ve only been to Alaspin once before, I think I might just drop down that way and look her up again.”
“Then if not for the friends, why would you want to come back?”
“Why, young feller-me-lad?” September’s smile widened. “You saw the carvings and inscriptions and mosaics in the mountain-city, and you heard our teacher friend Milliken hypothesize a different ecology, where the predominant color’s green ’stead of white.
“Yes, I’d like to come back allright. In about ten thousand years or so when this world swings close by its star again and the cycle shifts from cold to warm. I’d like to sail these same oceans again in a real boat, though the ol’
Slanderscree
’s got her points.” He tapped the wooden rail affectionately.
“Think on those carvings again, feller-me-lad. Ten thousand years from now, why, it’d be nice to be here. Because when those frozen seeds thaw out fast, there’s gonna be a few hundred billion flowers all bloomin’ at once.”
In memoriam… Judy-Lynn Benjamin del Rey
Fate is an unkind editor, but at last the
genie is free of the bottle.
Soar.
T
HE WORST PART OF
it wasn’t that Ethan Fortune was freezing to death. The worst part of it was that he was doing so voluntarily.
Nudity was not favored by the heavily furred native Tran. For a human being to be standing naked on Tran-ky-ky verged on insanity. Despite this Ethan was not trying to commit suicide. He was supposed to be celebrating, though it was hard to pretend you were having a good time when you were turning blue and the goose bumps dotting arms, legs, and other sections of your anatomy were well on their way to settling in as permanent features of the epidermal topography.
That he had company in misery was no consolation. Skua September was just as cold, except for those portions of his face and neck that were covered by a heavy brown and gray beard. The old giant had both arms clapped tightly to his ribs.
There was also the matter of exposure to curious eyes as well as to the elements. Foolish to be embarrassed, Ethan told himself. He and Skua were the only the human beings in the royal hall of Arsudun. It was only natural their nude forms would draw attention, with their flat feet devoid of skatelike
chiv,
their
dan
-less arms, and their largely furless bodies.
Mousokka, who was second mate on the icerigger
Slanderscree,
commented that he found the subtle change in color of their skin very becoming. The glares this observation drew quickly convinced him that the change was other than voluntary and he did not mention it again.
The hardest thing to do was simply to be quiet. Shivering was permissible: muttering and making other noise was not. Skua leaned over to whisper to his companion anyway.
“It’s not so bad, young feller-me-lad. After a while the numbness kind of overwhelms the cold.”
“Shut up. Just shut up, will you?” Ethan leaned forward around the nearest member of the honor guard and looked toward the cupola. “Surely they’re almost through?”
Beneath an intricately carved dome of stavanzer ivory, a trio of elderly Arsudunian scholars were intoning the traditional marriage ritual. Overhead arched the stone walls and ceiling of the royal hall of Arsudun, the island-state whose corrupt Landgrave Ethan, Skua, and their Tran friends had recently overthrown. The new young Landgrave, Sev Gorin-Vloga, had given his blessings to the newlyweds-to-be and insisted they take their vows in Arsudun’s ancient castle. Ancient unheated castle, Ethan reflected as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering.
The two principles in this frigid romantic drama were Sir Hunnar Redbeard and Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata. Elfa was the daughter and heir of the Landgrave of Sofold, Hunnar the first Tran Ethan and Skua had dealt with after surviving their crash landing on this world eons ago. Ethan was delighted to share in their happiness. He would have given anything not to have agreed to share in the actual ceremony.
Not that he and Skua were alone in their nakedness. Guards and spectators alike had disrobed for the ceremony. Only the bride and groom were dressed. But the feline-ursine Tran were clad in thick fur. They didn’t notice the chill in the castle. Ethan and Skua had no such natural protection.
“Look, Ethan,” Skua whispered, “when I accepted the invitation to this little soiree on our behalf I had no idea stripping down was part of the tradition. The way that guard captain explained it, by appearing without raiment in the presence of the beloveds we indicate that we’re giving of our friendship and affection without any constraints. One holds nothing back. It’s a sign of respect for the lucky couple. One hides nothing in their presence.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Ethan growled.
Skua looked thoughtful. “Got its practical aspects besides. Hunnar there’s going to be Landgrave someday, ruler of Wannome. When everybody’s in a happy mood and celebrating would be a good time for a potential assassin to strike, but it’s tough to sneak in a weapon when you’ve nothing to hide it behind.”
“Damn shame, too. If I had one, I know who I’d use it on.”
September spread his huge hands. “Now what could I have done, feller-me-lad? Turned down the invitation to our friends’ wedding? A royal invitation at that, and what with us getting ready to leave this ball of ice once and for all. No reason for us to hang around. With Sofold and Arsudun in the north and Poyolavomaar and Moulokin in the south the Tran are pretty well on their way to breaking out of their feudal city-state cycle and establishing a planetary government. The rest of the independent states will have to join up because there’s no way they can stand against that kind of strength.”
One of the other spectators, an Arsudunian noble by the look of him, admonished them to be silent. It was disrespectful to converse during the sacred moments of the ceremony whether one be hero or commoner—or alien. Were they not conscious of the singular honor which had been bestowed upon them? Despite the presence of the human scientific outpost on the western shore of Arsudun this was the first time non-Tran had been allowed to witness the solemn, traditional rites which united male and female Tran in wedlock.
It was a delight Ethan could have forgone.
He kept quiet for Hunnar and Elfa’s sake. The business of betrothing consisted of a lot of twitching and moaning and entirely too much talk. If not for the fact that the two principals were close friends he would have declaimed his discomfort to all and sundry and damn the consequences. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t freezing, but his body wouldn’t buy it. So he concentrated instead on the more enjoyable activities which had led up to this prolonged session of discomfort: the procession through the town, the entrance into the castle, the swearing of the nobles, even the formal divestiture of garments which had taken place outside the hall, the clothing heaped into two piles between which the wedding procession had passed.
Would he truly have blasphemed if he’d kept his underwear?
He should have been grateful. What if tradition had called for the ceremony to have taken place not within the castle but out on the bare plains of Arsudun? Inside the temperature hovered close to freezing. Out on the plains it sank far below the point where water moved in comfort. Only fires in a few stone basins held back the arctic climate. One blazed not far away. Sticking his naked backside, or for that matter any portion of his anatomy, close to the hot stone would have constituted an unforgivable breach of etiquette. But he was going to have to do something soon. Shivering and goose bumps were half funny. Frostbite was not.
“I can’t take much more of this.”
“Concentrate on the ceremony, on the movements. Ain’t it beautiful?”
“What I can hear of it between my chattering teeth,” Ethan replied.
“And ain’t it great to see those two finally pledging their lives to each other?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Maybe marrying Elfa would at last put to rest Hunnar’s groundless suspicions that she held some kind of perverse attraction for Ethan. “That warms my thoughts but not my tail.”
“Think warmth, then.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Skua eyed him reproachfully. “No it ain’t easy for me to say, feller-me-lad. I’m as cold as you are. You just ain’t trying hard enough is all. Think about something else. Think about”—he grew suddenly wistful—”think about next week when the next supply ship will arrive and we’ll be able to quit this world.”
That
was
something to think about, Ethan told himself. Think about returning to civilization after spending almost two years living with well-meaning alien barbarians. Think about a modern, clean, warm stateroom on a new KK-drive ship. Think even about getting back to work. Time to put adventure behind him and get on with the business of everyday life. The ordinary was long overdue.