The Day of Their Return

XIX

None but a few high-ranking officers among the Companions had been told who Ivar was. They addressed him as Heraz when in earshot of others. He showed himself as seldom as feasible, dining with Yakow in the Commander’s suite, sleeping in a room nearby which had been lent him, using rear halls, ramps, and doorways for his excursions. In that vast structure, more than half of it unpopulated, he was never conspicuous. The corps knew their chief was keeping someone special, but were too disciplined to gossip about it.

Thus he and Yakow went almost unseen to the chamber used as a garage. Jaan was already present, in response to word from a runner. A guard saluted as the three men entered an aircar; and no doubt much went on in his head, but he would remain close-mouthed. The main door glided aside. Yakow’s old hands walked skillfully across the console. The car lifted, purred forth into the central enclosure, rose a vertical kilometer, and started leisurely southward.

A wind had sprung up as day rolled toward evening. It whined around the hull, which shivered. The Sea of Orcus bore whitecaps on its steel-colored surface and flung waves against its shores; where spray struck and evaporated, salt was promptly hoar. The continental shelf glowed reddish from long rays filtered through a dust-veil which obscured the further desert; the top of that storm broke oft in thin clouds and streamed yellow across blueblack heaven.

Yakow put controls on automatic, swiveled his seat around, and regarded the pair who sat aft of him. “Very well, we have the meeting place you wanted, Firstling,” he said. “Now will you tell us why?”

Ivar felt as if knives and needles searched him. He flicked his glance toward Jaan’s mild countenance, remembered what lay beneath it, and recoiled to stare out the canopy at the waters which they were crossing. I’m supposed to cope with these two? he thought despairingly.

Well, there’s nobody else for job. Nobody in whole wide universe. Against his loneliness, he hugged to him the thought that they might prove to be in truth his comrades in the cause of liberation.

“I, I’m scared of possible spies, bugs,” he said.

“Not in my part of the Arena,” Yakow snapped. “You know how often and thoroughly we check.”

“But Terrans have resources of, of entire Empire to draw on. They could have stuff we don’t suspect. Like telepathy.” Ivar forced himself to turn back to Jaan. “You scan minds.”

“Within limits,” the prophet cautioned. “I have explained.”

Yes. He took me down into mountain’s heart and showed me machine—device—whatever it is that he says held record of Caruith. He wouldn’t let me touch anything, though I couldn’t really blame him, and inside I was just as glad for excuse not to. And there he sensed my thoughts. I tested him every way I could imagine, and he told me exactly what I was thinkin’, as well as some things I hadn’t quite known I was thinkin’. Yes.

He probably wouldn’t’ve needed telepathy to see my sense of privacy outraged. He smiled and told me—

“Fear not. I have only my human nervous system, and it isn’t among the half-talented ones which occur rarely in our species. By myself, I cannot resonate any better than you, Firstling.” Bleakly: “This is terrible for Caruith, like being deaf or blind; but he endures, that awareness may be helped to fill reality. And down here—” Glory: “Here his former vessel acts to amplify, to recode, like a living brain center. Within its range of operation, Caruith-Jaan is part of what he rightfully should be: of what he will be again, when his people return and make for us that body we will have deserved.”

I can believe anyway some fraction of what he claimed. Artificial amplification and relayin’ of telepathy are beyond Terran science; but I’ve read of experiments with it, in past eras when Terran science was more progressive than now. Such technology is not too far beyond our present capabilities: almost matter of engineerin’ development rather than pure research.

Surely it’s negligible advance over what we know, compared to recordin’ of entire personality, and reimposition of pattern on member of utterly foreign species …

“Well,” Ivar said, “if you, usin’ artifact not really intended for your kind of organism, if you scan minds within radius of hundred meters or so—then naturally endowed bein’s ought to do better.”

“There are no nonhumans in Orcan territory,” Yakow said.

“Except Erannath,” Ivar retorted.

Did the white-bearded features stiffen? Did Jaan wince? “Ah, yes,” the Commander agreed. “A temporary exception. No xenosophonts are in Arena or town.”

“Could be human mutants, maybe genetic-tailored, who’ve infiltrated.” Ivar shrugged. “Or maybe no telepathy at all; maybe some gadget your detectors won’t register. I repeat, you probably don’t appreciate as well as I do what variety must exist on thousands of Imperial planets. Nobody can keep track. Imperium could well import surprise for us from far side of Empire.” He sighed. “Or, okay, call me paranoid. Call this trip unnecessary. You’re probably right. Fact is, however, I’ve got to decide what to do—question involvin’ not simply me, but my whole society—and I feel happier discussin’ it away from any imaginable surveillance.”

Such as may lair inside Mount Cronos.

If it does, I don’t think it’s happened to tap my thoughts these past several hours. Else my sudden suspicions that came from Tanya’s letter could’ve gotten me arrested.

Jaan inquired shrewdly, “Has the return of our Nova Roma mission triggered you?”

Ivar nodded with needless force.

“The message you received from your betrothed—”

“I destroyed it,” Ivar admitted, for the fact could not be evaded were he asked to show the contents. “Because of personal elements.” They weren’t startled; most nords would have done the same. “However, you can guess what’s true, that she discussed her connection with freedom movement. My letter to her and talks with your emissary had convinced her our interests and yours are identical in throwin’ off Imperial yoke.”

“And now you wish more details,” Yakow said.

Ivar nodded again. “Sir, wouldn’t you? Especially since it looks as if Commissioner Desai will go along with your plan. That’ll mean Terrans comin’ here, to discuss and implement economic growth of this region. What does that imply for our liberation?”

“I thought I had explained,” said Jaan patiently. “The plan is Caruith’s. Therefore it is long-range, as it must be; for what hope lies in mere weapons? Let us rise in force before the time is ready, and the Empire will crush us like a thumb crushing a sandmite.”

Caruith’s plan—The aircar had passed across the sea and the agricultural lands which fringed its southern shore, to go out over the true desert. This country made the Dreary of Ironland seem lush. Worn pinnacles lifted above ashen dunes; dust scudded and whirled; Ivar glimpsed fossil bones of an ocean monster, briefly exposed for wind to scour away, the single token of life. Low in the west, Virgil glowered through a haze that whistled.

“Idea seems … chancy, over-subtle … Can any nonhuman fathom our character that well?” he fretted.

“Remember, in me he is half human,” Jaan replied; “and he has a multimillion-year history to draw on. Men are no more unique than any other sophonts. Caruith espies likenesses among races to which we are blind.”

“I too grow impatient,” Yakow sighed. “I yearn to see us free, but can hardly live long enough. Yet Caruith is right. We must prepare all Aeneans, so when the day comes, all will rise together.”

“The trade expansion is a means to that end,” Jaan assured. “It should cause Orcans to travel across the planet, meeting each sort of other Aenean, leavening with faith and fire. Oh, our agents will not be told to preach; they will not know anything except that they have practical bargains to drive and arrangements to make. But they will inevitably fall into conversations, and this will arouse interest, and nords or Riverfolk or tinerans or whoever will invite friends to come hear what the outlander has to say.”

“I’ve heard that several times,” Ivar replied, “and I still have trouble understandin’. Look, sirs. You don’t expect mass conversion to Orcan beliefs, do you? I tell you, that’s impossible. Our different cultures are too strong in their particular reverences—traditional religions, paganism, Cosmenosis, ancestor service, whatever it may be.”

“Of course,” Jaan said softly. “But can you not appreciate, Firstling, their very conviction is what counts? Orcans will by precept and example make every Aenean redouble his special fervor. And nothing in my message contradicts any basic tenet of yonder faiths. Rather, the return of the Ancients fulfills all hopes, no matter what form they have taken.”

“I know, I know. Sorry, I keep on bein’ skeptical. But never mind. I don’t suppose it can do any harm; and as you say, it might well keep spirit of resistance alive. What about me, though? What am I supposed to be doin’ meanwhile?”

“At a time not far in the future,” Yakow said, “you will raise the banner of independence. We need to make preparations first; mustn’t risk you being seized at once by the enemy. Most likely, you’ll have to spend years offplanet, waging guerrilla warfare on Dido, for example, or visiting foreign courts to negotiate for their support.”

Ivar collected his nerve and interrupted: “Like Ythri?”

“Well … yes.” Yakow dismissed his own infinitesimal hesitation. “Yes, we might get help from the Domain, not while yours is a small group of outlaws, but later, when our cause comes to look more promising,” He leaned forward. “To begin with, frankly, your role will be a gadfly’s. You will distract the Empire from noticing too much the effects of Orcans traveling across Aeneas. You cannot hope to accomplish more, not for the first several years.”

“I don’t know,” Ivar said with what stubbornness he could rally. “We might get clandestine help from Ythri sooner, maybe quite soon. Some hints Erannath let drop—” He straightened in his seat. “Why not go talk to him right away?”

Jaan looked aside. Yakow said, “I fear that isn’t practical at the moment, Firstling.”

“How come? Where is he?”

Yakow clamped down sternness. “You yourself worry about what the enemy may eavesdrop on. What you don’t know, you cannot let slip. I must request your patience in this matter.”

It shuddered in Ivar as if the wind outside blew between his ribs. He wondered how well he faked surrender and relaxation. “Okay.”

“We had better start back,” Yakow said. “Night draws nigh.”

He turned himself around and then the aircraft. A dusk was already in the cabin, for the storm had thickened. Ivar welcomed the concealment of his face. And did outside noise drown the thud-thud-thud of his pulse? He said most slowly, “You know, Jaan, one thing I’ve never heard bespoken. What does Caruith’s race look like?”

“It doesn’t matter,” was the reply. “They are more mind than body. Indeed, their oneness includes numerous different species. Think of Dido. In the end, all races will belong.”

“Uh-huh. However, I can’t help bein’ curious. Let’s put it this way. What did the body look like that actually lay down under scanner?”

“Why … well—”

“Come on. Maybe your Orcans are so little used to pictures that they don’t insist on description. I assure you, companyo, other Aeneans are different. They’ll ask. Why not tell me?”

“Kah, hm, kah—” Jaan yielded. He seemed a touch confused, as if the consciousness superimposed on his didn’t work well at a large distance from the reinforcing radiations of the underground vessel. “Yes. He … male, aye, in a bisexual warm-blooded species … not mammalian; descended from ornithoids … human-seeming in many ways, but beautiful, far more refined and sculptured than us. Thin features set at sharp angles; a speaking voice like music—No.” Jaan broke off. “I will not say further. It has no significance.”

You’ve said plenty, tolled in Ivar.

Talk was sparse for the rest of the journey. As the car moved downward toward an Arena that had become a bulk of blackness studded with a few lights, the Firstling spoke. “Please, I want to go off by myself and think. I’m used to space and solitude when I make important decisions. How about lendin’ me this flitter? I’ll fly to calm area, settle down, watch moons and stars—return before mornin’ and let you know how things appear to me. May I?”

He had well composed and mentally rehearsed his speech. Yakow raised no objection; Jaan gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Surely,” said the prophet. “Courage and wisdom abide with you, dear friend.”

When he had let the others out, Ivar lifted fast, and cut a thunderclap through the air in his haste to be gone. The dread of pursuit bayed at his heels.

Harsh through him went: They aren’t infallible. I took them by surprise. Jaan should’ve been prepared with any description but true one—one that matches what Tanya relayed to me from Commissioner Desai, about Merseian agent loose on Aeneas.

Stiffening wind after sunset filled the air around the lower mountainside with fine sand. Lavinia showed a dim half-disc overhead, but cast no real light; and there were no stars. Nor did villages and farmsteads scattered across the hills reveal themselves. Vision ended within meters.

Landing on instruments, Ivar wondered if this was lucky for him. He could descend unseen, where otherwise he would have had to park behind some ridge or grove kilometers away and slink forward afoot. Indeed, he had scant choice. Walking any distance through a desert storm, without special guidance equipment he didn’t have along, posed too much danger of losing his way. But coming so near town and Arena, he risked registering on the detectors of a guard post, and somebody dispatching a squad to investigate.

Well, the worst hazard lay in a meek return to his quarters. He found with a certain joy that fear had left him, as had the hunger and thirst of supperlessness, washed away by the excitement now coursing through him. He donned the overgarment everyone took with him on every trip, slid back the door, and jumped to the ground.

The gale hooted and droned. It sheathed him in chill and a scent of iron. Grit stung. He secured his nightmask and groped forward.

For a minute he worried about going astray in spite of planning. Then he stubbed his toe on a rock which had fallen off a heap, spoil from the new excavation. The entrance was dead ahead uphill, to that tunnel down which Jaan had taken him.

He didn’t turn on the flashbeam he had borrowed from the car’s equipment, till he stood at the mouth. Thereafter he gripped it hard, as his free hand sought for a latch.

Protection from weather, the manmade door needed no lock against a folk whose piety was founded on relics. When he had closed it behind him, Ivar stood in abrupt silence, motionless cold, a dark whose thickness was broken only by the wan ray from the flash. His breath sounded too loud in his ears. Fingers sought comfort from the heavy sheath knife he had borne from Windhome; but it was his solitary weapon. To carry anything more, earlier, would have provoked instant suspicion.

What will I find?

Probably nothin’. I can take closer look at Caruith machine, but I haven’t tools to open it and analyze. As for what might be elsewhere … these corridors twist on and on, in dozen different sets.

Noneless, newest discovery, plausibly barred to public while exploration proceeds, is most logical place to hide—whatever is to be hidden. And—his gaze went to the dust of megayears, tumbled and tracked like the dust of Luna when man first fared into space—I could find traces which’ll lead me further, if any have gone before me.

He began to walk. His footfalls clopped hollowly back off the ageless vaulting.

Why am I doin’ this? Because Merseians may have part in events? Is it bad if they do? Tanya feels happy about what she’s heard. She thinks Roidhunate might really come to our aid, and hopes I can somehow contact that agent.

But Ythri might help too. In which case, why won’t Orcan chiefs let me see Erannath? Their excuse rings thin.

And if Ancients are workin’ through Merseians, as is imaginable, why have they deceived Jaan? Shouldn’t he know?

(Does he? It wouldn’t be information to broadcast. Terran Imperium may well dismiss Jaan’s claims as simply another piece of cultism, which it’d cause more trouble to suppress than it’s worth … but never if Imperium suspected Merseia was behind it! So maybe he is withholdin’ full story. Except that doesn’t feel right. He’s too sincere, too rapt, and, yes, too bewildered, to play double game. Isn’t he?)

I’ve got to discover truth, or lose what right I ever had to lead my people.

Ivar marched on into blindness.