Wizard

21 Hands Across the Sea

"It's a good thing these depressions are transitory," Chris said.

"I should say so." Valiha turned her head to look at Chris. "I have never seen anyone as withdrawn as you were. It must take a lot out of you."

Chris silently agreed with that. He was not completely over it but was making the effort to put on a bright face. One more night's sleep, and he might feel life still had some point.

They had not returned to Ophion after their side trip to the Melody Shop. Though the Circum-Gaea Highway followed the river's bank through the Upper Muse Valley, slides had made it impassable in several places. Instead, they took a path through the Asterias. To call it a goat trail would have been like saying a tightrope was the Seaboard Highway. There were places where the humans had to dismount and cling to ropes strung by a Titanide who went ahead, using toeholds so scanty they might have been drawn on the rock. In this, as in so many other things, Titanides were a lot better than Chris. He was beginning to find that annoying. His consolation was that Cirocco and Robin were no better, though Gaby seemed to be part goat and part fly.

There were crevasses to span. The big ones were bridged by lassoing a rock on the other side and crossing hand over hand beneath the rope. Finally, Chris was able to do something better than anyone else. The Titanides could do it, but just barely. He could hardly bear to look as they dangled by their hands.

Any gap less than ten meters wide, however, did not rate a rope bridge. The Titanides simply hurdled it. The first such jump took ten years off his life. After that he closed his eyes.

But at last they descended the final slope. Below them was a narrow band of forest, a narrower beach of black sand, and Nox, the Midnight Sea. It shimmered in the silvery light. Embedded in the water were nebular drifts of luminescence, cold blue beneath the brighter surface reflections. There were harder, more compact light sources, some a warm yellow and others deep and green.

"The light clouds are colonies of fish about this long." Chris looked up and found that Hornpipe was walking beside Valiha. Cirocco was holding thumb and forefinger a few centimeters apart

"They're more like insects, actually, but water-breathing. They're true colonies, with a hive brain like ants or bees. But they don't have a queen. They apparently hold free elections, from what I've been able to learn. Complete with primaries and campaigns and propaganda in the form of pheromones released into the water at election time. The winner is allowed to grow to be a meter long and holds office for seven kilorevs. His function is mainly morale. He releases chemicals that keep the hive happy. If the leader is killed, the hive stops eating and dissolves. At the end of the term the hive eats him. Sanest political system I ever saw."

Chris looked at her hard but could see no hint that she was pulling his leg. He wasn't about to ask her. It was a big surprise that she was talking at all, and he was willing to listen to whatever she felt moved to say. Since leaving the Melody Shop, she had been quiet, exhausted all the time. Though he had seen ample evidence of her human failings, he was more than a little in awe of her.

"Nox is one of the most sterile places in Gaea," she went on "Not many creatures can live here. The water's too clean. There are abysses in there ten kilometers deep. Water gets pumped out and taken to the heat-exchanger fins, boiled, and distilled. When it comes back, it's crystal-clear. If there was light in here, it would be beautiful; you could see down for hundreds of meters."

"It's rather beautiful as it is," Chris ventured.

"Maybe you're right. Yes, I guess it is beautiful to look at. I don't much care for crossing it. Bad memories." She sighed, then pointed out over the water. "That cable in the middle attaches to an island called Minerva. I guess we have to call it an island; the cable is practically the whole thing. There's no real shoreline. Well be stopping off there for a short time."

"What are the other lights? The points."

"Submarines."

Upon arriving on the beach, the Titanides disencumbered themselves of their saddlebags and removed gleaming wedges of steel that proved to be the heads of axes. Moving into the forest with their knives, they soon fashioned handles and began felling trees by the dozen. Chris watched from a safe distance after offering to help and, as usual, getting a polite refusal.

The trees were remarkable. Each was fifteen meters high, straight, and fifty centimeters in diameter. They had no branches but at the tops were giant, gossamer fronds. Chris was reminded of darts sticking out of a board.

"Do the trees seem unusual?" Gaby had joined him while he watched.

"What are they called?"

"You've got me there. I've heard several names. None has stuck officially. I used to call them telephone poles, but that dated me too much. In the woods they're called cabin trees by people who're building cabins. By the sea they're raft trees. It's the same plant, either way. It's probably best to call 'em log trees."

Chris laughed. "Every tree is a log tree when it's cut down."

"But there's no tree that's so good at it as this one. It's an example of Gaea's cooperative side. She sometimes makes things almost too easy. Watch this."

She walked to the top frond of a fallen tree, took out her knife, and deftly severed it. Chris saw the thin tube was hollow. She put her knife into it and slashed upward. The smooth bark ripped and began to tear. It tore the entire length of the trunk, folded back, and bared a moist bole of yellow wood that might have been machined on a lathe.

"I'm impressed."

"That's not all. Valiha, can I borrow that a minute?" The Titanide gave Gaby her ax. Chris knelt while she examined the perfectly flat end revealed when the bark peeled away. There was a grid of lines on it. Gaby swung the ax against one of the lines. It made a solid thunk.

"I'm not as good at this as they are," Gaby muttered. She pulled the blade free and swung again. With a dry clatter the log partitioned itself into a dozen smooth planks. She set one foot on the stack, slung the ax on her shoulder, and grinned as she flexed the muscles of one arm like a scale-model lumberjack.

"I'm impressed."

"It weren't nothin'. Anyway, that's not the end of the amazing wonders. The bark can be turned into strips that are as strong as a steel band. You can use them to lace the logs into a raft. For the next couple revs the stumps will ooze epoxy glue. Only about one in twenty of the trees will fracture into planks. We'll use the regular boles for the bottom of the raft and the planks for decking. That way a stray jolt won't turn the whole thing into a big bundle of lumber. In about four or five revs the raft ought to be ready to launch. End of lecture."

"Not quite," Chris said. "You mentioned this being part of Gaea's cooperative side. Are these trees new things? I mean-"

"Like the Titanides are new? No, I don't think so. More likely they're very old. Older than Gaea. They're one of the species designed by the same folks who built Gaea's forebears, billions of years ago. They seemed to like things handy. So there's the plants that grow transistors and such on one end of the scale, and the basics like these trees and the smilers-which are hypercattle that you can harvest meat from without killing them. Either the designers planned for periods when civilization would fall, or they didn't like noisy factories."

Chris walked down the beach by himself, vaguely troubled. He knew he should be feeling grateful to be along with Cirocco and Gaby, learning all these things that should prove useful if he had to strike out on his own. Instead, he was struck by his own uselessness in the scheme of things. Everything seemed well under control. He couldn't cook, couldn't build a raft, row a canoe-he could not even keep up if called upon to walk. He was supposed to be seeking out adventure, finding a way to become a hero. Instead, he was along for the ride. He no longer truly believed they would encounter anything Gaby and the Titanides could not handle.

The beach sand was very fine. It sparkled, even in the darkness of Rhea. Walking near the trees was tiring, so he moved near the water's edge, where dampness had turned the sand into a firm surface. Nox was still for such a large body of water. Low waves undulated and crested in slow motion. The sound they made was more of a hiss than a roar. Foam lapped at his feet, then melted into the sand.

He had gone out with the intention of washing up. Two days of climbing rocks and riding muddy trails had left him gritty. When he could barely hear the sound of the Titanides' labors, he judged he had come far enough. He stumbled over something nearly invisible against the black sand. It was a pile of clothing.

"Did you bring any soap?"

He squinted toward the sound of the voice and saw a dark circle against the water. Robin raised herself from her squatting position, stood in water up to her waist. Concentric silver rings spread away from her.

"It just so happens that I did," Chris said, digging the soft round ball from his pocket. The Wi ... Cirocco said the water was cold."

"It's not too bad. Bring it out here, would you?" She sat again, until only her head showed.

Chris got out of his clothes and cautiously stepped into the water. It was chilly, but he had been in worse. The shore sloped gradually. There were no slimy creatures underfoot, or even any shells. It was smooth, uniform sand, suitable for the filling of hourglasses.

He swam the last few meters, then stood beside her and handed her the ball of soap. She began rubbing it over her upper body.

"Don't drop it," he cautioned. "We'd never find it again."

"I'll be careful. Where did you learn to do that?"

"What? You mean swim? I was so young I don't remember. Just about everyone I know can swim. Can't you?"

"Nobody I know can. Would you teach me?"

"Sure, if we have time."

"Thanks. Would you soap my back?" She handed him the ball.

The request surprised him, but he agreed readily enough. He used his hands perhaps a little more than he had to, and when she did not object, he kneaded her shoulders. There was firm muscle beneath the cold skin. She did the same for him, having to reach high to get his shoulders. He knew he had not even begun to understand her and wished that were not the case. With any other woman he would have felt at ease. He would have kissed her and let her decide what to do from there. He would have accepted her answer, yes or no. With Robin, he didn't feel he dared pose the question.

But why not? he wondered. Did everything have to be done on her terms? Where he came from, it was perfectly all right to make the offer, so long as one was prepared to be turned down. He had no idea how they did such things in the Coven, except to know that the situation could never arise between a man and a woman. Perhaps she was as confused as he, socially.

So when she stopped rubbing his back, he turned, put one hand gently to her cheek, and kissed her on the lips. When he drew away, she looked puzzled.

"What was that for?"

"Because I like you. Don't you kiss in the Coven?"

"Of course we do." She shrugged. "How strange. I hadn't realized it, but you smell different. Not actually unpleasant, but different." She turned from him and dived awkwardly toward the shore. She windmilled her arms and thrashed her legs without really getting anywhere and soon had to stand up and spit water.

Chris sank until the water lapped at his chin. He had never been rebuffed in quite that way before. He knew she had not been aware she was turning him down, but it was still deflating.

"I fell into the river when I got here," she said as they slogged through the shallow water toward the beach. "I did something to get to shore because I knew I had to. But I can't put it all together now."

"You probably didn't have far to go, or the current was helping you."

"Can you show me now?"

"Maybe later."

At the beach he tossed her the soap again. She stood with her feet in the water and washed her lower body. He watched her, wishing there were more light so he could finally get a better look at the tattoos. Abruptly, he decided he had better sit down.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"I saw what was happening." She frowned at him. "Don't tell me you thought you could-"

"It's called the gallant reflex, okay?" Chris was embarrassed and annoyed. "Reflex. I didn't plan to assault you or anything. You just look very, very good standing there, and ... who could help it?"

"You mean that just by looking at me ..." She covered herself with a hand and a forearm. To Chris, it made her look prettier than ever. "I didn't realize that's what my mother meant, or maybe I thought it was another mistake."

"Why didn't you realize? You seem to think we're so different. I'm just like you. Can't you get aroused by looking at someone sexually desirable?"

"Well, sure, but it didn't occur to me that a man-"

"Don't make it into such a tremendous distinction. We have a lot of things in common, whether you like it or not. We both erect, both have orgasms-"

"I'll bear it in mind," she said, tossed him the soap, scooped up her clothes, and hurried off down the beach.Chris worried that he might have killed a budding friendship. He did like her, almost in spite of himself. Or in spite of her. He wanted to be her friend.

A little later he wondered if she had left because of anger. Going back over the conversation, he realized that the point she had chosen to leave could be given another interpretation.

He did not think Robin would be too comfortable with the idea that he was like her. Or, conversely, that she was like him.

The completed raft would not have won any prizes in a boat show, but it was a marvel from the standpoint of size alone, considering the time it had taken to build it. It slid down the ramp which had been its construction site and hit the water with a mighty splash. Chris joined the Titanides in cheering. Robin was yelling, too. They had both had a hand in the finishing stages. The Titanides had shown them how to handle the glue and let them set deck planks in place while the railings were being installed.

It had ample room for the eight of them. There was a small cabin near the bow, large enough to bunk all the humans at once, and a canopy that could be hung to keep the rain off the Titanides. A mast amidships supported a silver Mylar sail with a minimum of rigging. Steering was done with a long tiller. Just aft of the mast was a circle of stones to support the cooking fire.

Gaby, Chris, and Robin gathered by the gangplank while the Titanides carried aboard saddlebags, provisions they had gathered near the beach, and heaps of firewood. Cirocco had already gone aboard and installed herself at the bow, gazing at nothing.

"They want me to name it," Gaby said to Robin. "Somehow I've gotten the reputation around here as the namer of names. I pointed out that we'll be using this raft for only eight days at the most, but they think every ship has to have a name."

"It seems appropriate," Robin said.

"Oh, you think so? Then you name it."

Robin thought for a moment, then said, "Constance. Is that all right, to name a ship after-"

"That's fine. A lot better than the first boat I sailed in here."

For several kilometers it was possible to propel Constance with long poles. This was fortunate because the wind had departed along with the rain. Everyone but Cirocco lent a hand. Chris enjoyed the hard work. He knew he was not moving the boat nearly so much as the Titanides, but it felt good to be contributing. He put his back into it until the poles would no longer touch bottom. At that point four oars were rigged, and they took shifts as galley slaves. It was even harder than the poling. After two hours at the oars Robin suffered a violent seizure and had to be taken into the cabin.

During one of his rest periods Chris went around the cabin and found that Cirocco had abandoned her post, presumably to sleep.

He stretched out on his back and felt the muscles protest. The night sky of Rhea was like nothing he had ever dreamed. In Hyperion, on a clear day, the sky was a uniform yellow blur, unguessably high. Only by following the sweep of the central vertical cable to where-as a mere thread-it penetrated the Hyperion Window could one really define where the solid sky was. Even then one had to keep it firmly in mind that the cable was five kilometers in diameter and not the slim spindle into which perspective and the eye's timid bias transformed it.

Rhea was different. For one thing, Chris was closer to the central Rhea vertical cable than he had ever been to Hyperion's great column. A black shadow that leaped from the sea, it dwindled rapidly and kept rising and rising until it vanished completely. To each side of it were the north and south verticals, improperly named because they both angled toward the center, though not nearly so much as the ones behind him, to the west. The cables vanished because of the darkness, but more important, because Rhea did not have a window arching over it. Rhea lived in the shadow of the vast trumpet-shaped mouth known as the Rhea Spoke.

Had he not known its size and shape from pictures, Chris would never have discovered its true geometry. What he could see was a dark, wide oval high overhead. In reality, it was more than 300 kilometers above the sea. Around the edge of that mouth was a valve that could close like the iris of an eye, isolating the space above it from the rim. It was now wide open, and he could see up into a dark, oblate cylinder the upper end of which, he knew, was another 300 kilometers away, where another valve led to the hub. He could not see that far, through that much dark air. But what he could see resembled the barrel of a gun that might have used planetoids for projectiles. It was aimed right at him, but the threat was so overblown he could not take it seriously.

He knew that between the lower valve and the radius of the Hyperion Window-a vertical distance of about a hundred kilometers-the spoke flared like the bell of a horn until it became one with the relatively thin arch of roof that stretched over the daylight areas on each side of Rhea. Try as he might, he could not see that flaring, though it had been discernible from Hyperion. Another trick of perspective, he concluded.

There were lights somewhere up there in the spoke. He supposed they were the windows he had read about. From here they dwindled like runway lights seen from a landing plane.

He gradually became aware of a more immediate light, to his left and over his head as he reclined on the deck. He sat up and turned around and saw that the surface of Nox was being lit from below with a pearly blue luminescence. At first he thought it was a hive of the sea insects Cirocco had told him about.

"It's a sub," said a voice to his right. He was startled; Cirocco had joined him silently. "I sent messengers a few hours ago, hoping to attract one. But it looks like she'll be too busy to give us a tow." She pointed at the sky to the west, and Chris found a big patch of deeper darkness against the night. He didn't need anyone to tell him it was a blimp, and a big one.

"Not many people have seen this," Cirocco said quietly. "There aren't any subs in Hyperion because there're no seas. Blimps go anywhere, but subs stay where they're born. Ophion won't hold them."

There was a piercing series of whistles from the blimp, followed by a sizzling and hissing from the rear of Constance. Chris understood that the blimp had asked for the fire to be put out, and the Titanides had complied.

He felt Cirocco's hand on his shoulder. She pointed over the water. "Right there," she said. He looked, still conscious of her hand, and saw tentacles writhing upward, thrashing slowly against the water. A slender stalk rose from the mass of them.

"That's her periscope eye. This is about as much of a sub as you'll ever see. Notice the long swelling there on the water? That's her body. She never comes out any more than that."

"But what's she doing?"

"Mating. Be quiet, don't disturb them. I'll fill you in."

The story was straightforward, though not obvious. The blimps and subs were male and female of the same species. Both descended from the sexless children of their union, which were snakelike and nearly brainless until competition had reduced their swarms to a small number of twenty-meter survivors. At that point they grew a brain and tapped some racial source of knowledge that neither Gaea nor the blimp-subs had ever explained to Cirocco. It had nothing to do with nurturing, for from the time they were spawned neither the mothers nor the fathers had anything further to do with them.

But they grew wise in some mysterious way, and eventually made a conscious decision to become male or female, blimp or sub. Each entailed a hazard. The water contained many predators which ate young subs. There was no such risk in the air, but a young blimp could not manufacture his own hydrogen. His fate after metamorphosis would be to sit on the water, an empty bladder, and hope a mature blimp would, so to speak, blow him up. No adult could support more than six or seven in his squadron. If there were no openings, it was just too bad. The decision to differentiate was irrevocable.

The blimps and subs had little to do with each other. They might never come together at all at the watery interface between their worlds but for two facts. There was a species of seaweed that grew only in deep water; without it, the blimps could not survive, and the Titan trees-massive spurs of the body of Gaea herself, growing more than six kilometers tall and only in the highlands-sprouted leaves near their tops which were vital to the diets of subs.

Amicable mating was in the interest of both sexes.

Something fell from the tendrils which dangled below the midships bulge on the great curve of the blimp's belly. It splashed into the water. The sub's tentacles gathered it in and made it vanish. There was a deep sigh as the blimp vented hydrogen and sank toward the outstretched arms of his lover.

Beyond that there was not much to see. The tendrils entwined and the massive bodies touched at the surface of the sea, and they just stayed that way. It was only when waves began to roll the raft that Chris realized how much activity might be concealed by distance.

"There is a lot happening," Cirocco confirmed. "There is a way to get closer to the action, by the way. I was once a passenger in a blimp when he got smitten by love. Let me tell you ... never mind. It's a rough ride."

Cirocco went away as quietly as she had come. Chris continued to watch. Before long he heard hooves on the deck, and Valiha came around the cabin to join him. He was sitting on the edge of the raft, his feet dangling over the side to just reach the water. Valiha sat the same way, and for a moment a trick of the shadows made the equine part of her body vanish. She became a very big woman with shrunken, spindly legs, dangling her devil's feet in the water. The image upset him, and he looked away from her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, in English so singsong that for a moment he thought she had sung it in Titanide.

"It's interesting." In truth, he was beginning to tire of it. He was just about to get up when she took his hand, raised it to her mouth, and kissed it

"Oh."

"Hmmm?" She looked at him, but he could not think of anything to say. It apparently didn't matter. She kissed him on the cheek, the neck, and the lips. He took a deep breath when he was able.

"Wait. Valiha, wait." She did, looking at him with her great, guileless eyes. "I don't think I'm ready for this. I mean... I don't know what to tell you. I just don't think I can handle it. Not now." She continued to search his eyes. He wondered if she was looking for madness, decided that was his own fear speaking. At last she briefly pressed his hand between both of hers, nodded, and let him go. She stood up.

"Let me know when you are. Okay?" She hurried away.

He felt bad about it. Though he tried to analyze his reasons for rejecting her, nothing satisfied. Partly Valiha was a reminder of something he had done while possessed. He was a lot braver at those times, unless he was a lot more timid. It looked as if that had been a brave time because try as he might, he could not come up with a comfortable answer to one question: what did a Titanide and a human do? And another: how much life insurance would he need before attempting it?

Valiha was big. She scared him to death.

It might have been fifteen minutes later that Gaby came around the side of the cabin and joined him in the bow. He only wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but his hideaway was turning into a parade ground.

She leaned on the rail, whistling, then nudged him.

"Feeling the blues, buddy?"

He shrugged. "It's been a weird eight hours or so. You think something's in the air?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Everybody's in love. Out there the sky's in love with the sea. Back onshore I found myself acting foolish over Robin."

Gaby whistled. "Poor boy."

"Yeah. Just a few minutes ago Valiha wanted to pick up where my mad alter ego left off, shooting marbles, as they say." He sighed. "It must be something in the air."

"Well, you know what they say. It makes the world go around. Love, that is. And Gaea spins a hell of a lot faster than the Earth."

He looked at her suspiciously. "You didn't have anything... ."

She held her hands up and shook her head. "Not me, friend, I won't bother you. With me, it's once in a blue moon, and usually with girls. I don't go in for the short-term stuff either. I want all my relationships to last. All seventeen of them." She made a face.

"I guess you have a different perspective on it," Chris ventured. "Being as old as you are."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Not true. It always hurts. I want it to last forever, and it never does. And it's my fault. I always end up measuring them by Cirocco, and they never measure up." She coughed nervously. "Well, listen to me. I didn't mean to get into that. I came to stick my nose into your business. You don't have to be afraid of Valiha. Not emotionally, if that's what's bothering you. She would not be jealous, or possessive, or expect it to last long. Titanides have no concept of exclusiveness."

"Did she ask you to tell me that?"

"She'd be furious if she knew. Titanides handle their own affairs and don't want interference. This is Gaby the know-it-all butting in. I'll say one more thing, then butt out. If your reservations are moral-bestiality, maybe?-wise up, friend. Didn't you hear? Even the Catholic Church says it's okay. All the Popes agree, Titanides have souls even if they are heathens."

"What if my objection is physical?"

Gaby laughed merrily and patted his cheek. "Oh, boy, do you have some pleasant surprises in store."