Denner's Wreck

Chapter Fifteen

“…the boatmen saw an island in the sea before them, an island at the mouth of their own harbor that had never been there before."

"'Has it risen from the bottom overnight?’ some asked.

"'Did it fall from the sky?’ said others.

"But among the elders of the village was a woman who had studied the legends extensively, and she knew at once what this island must be. ‘It is Avalon, the home of Tagomi of the Seas, greatest of the aquatic Powers,’ she told the villagers. ‘This island, unlike all others, floats freely wherever its master wishes it to go.'

"The villagers heard her words, and knew that she spoke the truth, and they marvelled that one of the Powers had come to their little corner of the world.

"'What could he want here?’ they asked each other.

"One young man, Filomor by name, replied, ‘Why don't we ask him?'

"The others laughed, and called him mad. ‘Would you go up and ask him, ask a Power, ask Tagomi, what he wants here, as if he were a common vagabond?’ they asked.

"'Yes,’ Filomor replied, ‘I would do just that. Will anyone come with me?'

"And then the others grew angry, and cursed him, and threatened him, and told him, ‘You must not go there. You must not disturb him. If you anger him with your audacity, he might destroy us all.'

"But Filomor was determined, and would hear none of their arguments. ‘I will go to him and ask why he has come,’ he said, ‘and nothing in the three worlds will stop me.’ And he took his boat and rowed out onto the sea, across the harbor to the strange green island…"

– from the tales of Kithen the Storyteller

No one human saw Bredon slip off the platform as it sank to the great empty expanse of close-clipped lawn. No one human saw him glance around in the dimness at the flawlessly even grass, the delicate flowers that swayed gracefully without wind, and the great jagged house at the top of the long, gentle slope as the platform slid silently back across the rocky verge and down into the empty space beneath. No one human saw him scurry quickly into the ornamental shrubbery that glistened nearby, the glossy green leaves almost black in the dim light of the stars overhead and the distant glow of the main house. No one human saw or heard any trace of him. He was a hunter, a named Hunter and the son of a Hunter, and he knew his trade. The midwake darkness made it easy to avoid human eyes.

The Skyler's machines were another matter; they needed no visible light. The instant his foot left the protective field the platform had provided he was seen, scented, felt, heard, measured, analyzed, his mass adjusted for in the island's lift, the biochemistry of his breath and body odor recorded for future identification, his movement matched against known human behaviors to judge his intentions.

Bredon felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing of the machines, but he knew they were there, and that the central intelligence would be informing the Skyler of his presence within seconds. He pulled the little communicator from one of the pockets in his vest.

“Hello, in the house,” he whispered.

“Identify yourself, intruder,” a harsh voice replied, speaking not from the communicator but from the air above him.

“My name is Bredon,” he said. “Gamesmaster sent me. It's playing a joke on Lord Geste. Look, I know you have to report me, but could you wait until we're moving? Please? If you don't the joke will be ruined. You can watch me as closely as you like, even confine me, and I won't cause any trouble."

The intelligence hesitated, then said, “I'm sorry, sir, but I must report you to the Skyler immediately. I'm transmitting a report of your arrival right now. Anything else would run counter to my most basic programming. She may choose not to ruin the joke herself, however."

Bredon shrugged. Gamesmaster had warned him, but he had thought it was worth trying. That had been foolish. One high-order artificial intelligence, given another similar one's exact design specifications, can predict that one's reactions pretty closely, and Gamesmaster had the Skyland's complete original plans in memory. Geste had ordered them downloaded from Mother years ago, to help in planning a stunt that he had hoped to pull. If the Skyler had made any modifications, they hadn't been enough to loosen up the original programming for dealing with trespassers.

Well, he told himself, maybe the Skyler has a sense of humor and will play along. He crouched down more deeply into the bushes.

Light suddenly blazed up, washing across the lawn and the shrubbery, turning them vividly green. The stars overhead vanished in the glare. “All right, Bredon, come out of there,” Geste's voice called.

Bredon cursed, then slid out of the bushes and got to his feet. The lawn was lit almost as brightly as full sunlight, and he could see a thousand previously-hidden details of the Skyland-bushes trimmed to resemble mythological beasts, small animals and machines skittering about on mysterious errands, the main house like a dozen villages pressed together into a single structure, little pavilions and follies scattered across the entire island in a myriad of shapes and sizes and colors, the whole panorama neat, orderly, incredibly complex, and somehow sterile and dull.

The Trickster, still in his red outfit, was coming around a corner of a nearby pink gazebo; a globe of golden light accompanied him as far as the edge of the lawn, then vanished.

He stopped, hands on his hips, and smiled at Bredon. “I take it you want to come along,” Geste said.

Behind him was a woman, tall, thin, and obviously nervous, with curling, ill-kept black hair and a dusky complexion, clad in a gleaming, tight-fitting green gown. Bredon guessed that this was the Skyler herself. If he could ingratiate himself with her, Geste might find it that much harder to order him off the Skyland. He bowed formally in the manner of his people, and as he groped for flowery greetings he said, “My apologies, lady, for coming here uninvited."

“Who is he, Geste?” the woman demanded. “What's he doing on my island?"

Geste mockingly returned Bredon's bow, and then waved theatrically as he announced, “Skyler, this is Bredon the Hunter, son of Aredon the Hunter, of a village in the grasslands for which I know no name. Bredon, this is the Skyler, mistress of the Skyland, on which you stand."

“I receive an honor such as I have never imagined possible even for the gods themselves, my lady, in being permitted to see you even briefly,” Bredon said, taking his speech from an old story Atheron liked to tell, about a mortal who so charmed the Nymph when she carried him away to her home beneath the river that she kept him there for a year and a wake, rather than the usual dark or two.

The Skyler stared at him, but still spoke only to her fellow immortal. “Geste, what is he doing here?” she demanded.

Geste sighed. “Skyler, I apologize. I got involved with him in the course of one of my little games, and he was with me when I discovered that Thaddeus was causing trouble. I left him at Arcade, where I thought he would be safely out of the way, but it appears that he doesn't care for my hospitality, and would prefer to sample yours."

Bredon could think of nothing appropriate to say, so he simply bowed again.

“Well, I don't want him here!” the Skyler said.

That, Bredon thought, was that. With nothing left to lose, however, he decided to try arguing.

“Geste, you can't leave me there. I want to help, I want to see what happens. I can help, if you let me; Gamesmaster taught me to run some of your machines."

Geste was startled. “It did?"

“Of course!” Bredon replied, startled by the Trickster's surprise. “You told it to do what I wanted, and you were gone for almost four wakes; what else was I supposed to do?"

Geste smiled. “When you put it that way, I don't really know. I would have just waited-eaten, slept, played a few games, perhaps. I keep forgetting how impatient you mortals are, and how easily bored."

“Some mortals would have done the same,” Bredon said, “but I'm too restless for that."

“So I see,” Geste replied.

“May I come along, then?” He did his best to sound casual, to make it a polite request rather than begging.

Geste contemplated him, still smiling, clearly thinking it over.

“Geste!” the Skyler exclaimed warningly.

“No, wait, Skyler,” Geste said, still looking at Bredon. “He may have a point. Maybe he could help. Thaddeus will never expect a native to be a danger."

“Why the hell not? I would! I don't trust these people!"

“But, Skyler, Thaddeus is different, and you know it. He's so damn arrogant that he hardly considers us a threat, let alone some poor bastard who survives by killing rabbits with rocks. Bredon might be able to walk right up to him, where we couldn't get within kilometers without being probed down to our marrow."

The Skyler hesitated, almost pouting, then gave in.

“All right,” she said. “But keep him away from me. And Skyland, you watch him, every second. And I won't eat with him, and I don't want him in the main house.” She turned and stalked away.

Geste and Bredon watched her go, and when she was out of sight the Trickster gave Bredon a smile that could only be considered conspiratorial.

“Don't mind her; she's just nervous."

“It's all right,” Bredon answered. “I don't blame her. According to the legends she has never spoken to a human-I mean, a mortal-before."

Startled, Geste looked after the departed immortal. “She hasn't?"

“So the stories say."

“Skyland, is that true?"

“Yes, sir, to the best of my knowledge it is. The Skyler does not believe any contact with the indigenes to be safe."

“They aren't indigenes; they didn't evolve here."

“My apologies, sir. Say rather, the previous inhabitants."

“She's never spoken to any of them?"

“Not to my knowledge, sir."

Geste considered this. “She always votes to stay here, though, whenever anyone wants to go home,” he pointed out.

“Yes, sir, she does,” the Skyland agreed.

“Why does she want to stay, if she never has any contact with the people here?"

Bredon thought that was obvious, even to someone as ignorant as himself, but he let the machine answer rather than risk making a fool of himself if he should be wrong.

“She has never stated a reason, sir, but in order to carry out my duties most effectively I am required to understand the Skyler's psychology as far as I can, and based on that understanding I would say that she does not like any strangers, and prefers Denner's Wreck to Terra because the population here is far smaller and less intrusive."

Bredon almost nodded. It was obvious.

“I hadn't realized she had it that bad,” Geste said, more to himself than to Bredon or the Skyland.

The two men stood silently for a moment, and then the Trickster roused himself.

“Well, Bredon, the weapons are all aboard, and Imp is seeing to it that they're all linked to our central control system. We'll be heading for the High Castle as soon as the Skyler gets around to giving the order. It will take a few hours to get there; this thing isn't designed for speed. Have you had lunch?"