The Overlords of War

Chapter 16

Corson was hungry. He headed mechanically toward the door, as though merely going outside amounted to approaching a solution. Of course, there was a solution, and he was only too well aware of the fact If he had been alone he might even have considered it. Soldiers in battle were taught to feed on anything rather than die of hunger. If they didn’t learn the lesson well, they didn’t last very long. And training, rather than instinct, reminded him that they were surrounded by a vast stock of protein. But he could imagine the unspeakable horror he would see in Antonella’s eyes if he explained the price they might have to pay for their ultimate survival.

Back in legendary times there had been a name for those who devoured corpses from a graveyard.

Ghouls.

And it was a matter of historical record that people had done such things, not only during a famine. Corson wondered if the overlords of war might not be cannibals rather than necrophiles. On occasion Mongol conquerors used to dish up the most beautiful of their concubines, with their heads displayed on a golden platter, so that all might see they were not miserly. What one man could think of doing, another might do again.

The door lifted to reveal the green plain, the grass spread out like a bitter carpet, crossed by the straight blue road, and the indistinct shape of the pegasone, contentedly grazing. Corson envied the beast.

Then he spotted something lying on the road, not far away. A bag. Laid on top of it, a metal plate glinted in the milky light which filtered through the clouds. In three steps he reached it. He looked it over closely, without touching it. While they were shut inside the building someone had left these here, intending them to be seen.

The plate bore a message.

For one moment the letters danced before his eyes, and he read:

CORSON, THIS BAG CONTAINS VICTUALS. EVEN EMPTY WRAPPINGS CAN STILL BE USEFUL. THERE IS MORE THAN ONE WAY TO MAKE WAR. REMEMBER THAT. YOU MUST GO TO AERGISTAL. IT IS THERE THAT CRIMES ARE JUDGED AND SOMETIMES PARDONED. SHOUT AERGISTAL. THE PEGASONE WILL UNDERSTAND.

Someone was playing a game with them. Escaping, being stranded here—now the bag and the message. If the unknown meddler was an ally, why did he not show himself? And if he was an enemy, why hadn’t he killed them?

He weighed the bag in his hand, then opened it. Inside were a score of combat rations. Mechanically he slung it over his shoulder and reentered the mausoleum.

Antonella was standing there with her arms slack at her sides, her cheeks hollow, her eyes dark-ringed, plainly in a state of shock. But she seemed to have recovered from her bout of misery. The tears had dried on her face.

“We won’t die of starvation,” Corson said, handing her the bag. “Someone has thrown us a bit of birdseed.”

Before helping himself, he watched her open one of the ration packs. Apparently she was in normal control of herself again. She tore a water capsule at the proper place, the way he had shown her, and offered it to him. He shook his head, and when she tried to insist pointed out that there were plenty more.

Finally she consented to drink, and he watched her swallow, seeing how greedily her Adam’s apple rose and fell under her delicate skin. Then, sitting on the floor, he too began to eat, drinking in sips and chewing carefully. He pondered as he did so.

According to the message, I have to go to Aergistal—where “crimes are judged and sometimes pardoned.” Could I be released, at Aergistal, from the doom hanging over me?

On the other hand, it had been or would become a battlefield. Not the sort of place he wanted to take Antonella to. But he couldn’t abandon her here. And he did not know in this new universe any safe place where he could leave her.

When they had finished, he collected up the scraps that were left over and looked for a way to dispose of them. Eventually he located a little trapdoor, raised it, and found below a black space from which rose the sound of running water. At least they would not leave a visible sign of their passage here—though his precautions would prove childish if the building were full of bugs, as it might be for all he knew.

Then he made up his mind.

“We’re going to Aergistal,” he told Antonella, showing her the message. “I don’t know what’s in store for us there. I’m not even sure if we’ll reach it.”

He expected to see alarm in her face. But she remained quite calm. It seemed that she had developed absolute trust in him, and—as he told himself sourly—that was the worst of his problems.

He kissed her lightly and led her out of the building and toward the pegasone. Having strapped her in place, he donned his own harness. He hesitated a moment, because it seemed so absurd to shout “Aergistal” as though giving an address to the computer of a city cab. He had to clear his throat. Then, in a voice that still quavered, he called it out.

“Aergistal!”

And the world around them once again became a place of crazy shapes and colors.