Icerigger - Mission To Moulokin Part 11

The grinding of the runners became a slick abra-sive noise as the huge s.h.i.+p picked up speed. Two, four, ten, fifteen kilometers an hour. Twenty. Thirty and a familiar whisking _zing_ rose from where duralloy lacerated ice. They were nearing the end of the brief clearing the crew had bought from the forest.

"Hard a' port! Sparmen swingho!"

Both helmsmen strained at the ma.s.sive wooden wheel. Inefficient muscle worked where hydraulics would better have served. A nerve-sc.r.a.ping _screel_ came from the fifth runner, the steering runner, as it slowly turned. Sailors aloft fought to adjust sail and trim adjustable spar lines.

And steadily, with unexpected sharpness, the _Slanderscree_ hove to port.

Both helmsmen struggled to hold the wheel steady as their feet left the deck. September threw his ma.s.s on the port side of the wheel and Tahoding added his. With four bodies straining, the runner stayed turned and the s.h.i.+p continued to come around even as her speed increased.

Then Tahoding and September could let go. The feet of the starboard side helmsman touched wood again as the extreme angle of turn was relaxed. They were racing down a broad avenue of clear ice cut by the stavanzer.

On command the two helmsmen let go the wheel, to allow the s.h.i.+p to settle on her own forward head-ing. With the westwind directly behind them now, there was no worry of swerving violently from the trail. The wheel turned freely to a halt, spinning fast enough to crush a man's skull. The helmsmen re-sumed their positions, tested the wheel and found it handled easily once more.

At sixty kilometers an hour they rushed down the slough. Pikapedan pulp stained the ice below the run-ners, and the unbroken growth paralleling them be-came a green blur on both sides of the s.h.i.+p. With the wind behind them, m.u.f.fled by the surrounding forest, they seemed to fly below the surface instead of above it, submerged in emerald silence.

The quiet made audible to the relaxing crew the horrified shriek of the foremast lookout.

Ethan looked forward, ignorant of the loss of pre-cious seconds. One, no two gigantic black pits like the mouths of caves were coming toward them, completely blocking the trail. As they raced nearer, a mysterious whisper became a fearful murmuring, then a tornado of roaring and bellowing that shook his teeth inside his head.

Tahoding desperately shouted instructions to the mates and the men in the rigging, trying at the same time to direct his helmsmen.

Again the steering runner turned, terror lending the Tran at its spokes a strength normal minds and bodies never possess. Again it dug and chewed at the ice.

The _Slanderscree_ angled to the south, slamming into the forest with a deck-slos.h.i.+ng spray of shattered stalks and sap. But now the s.h.i.+p was moving so fast the forest offered no real impediment.

Pikapedan trunks vanished on all sides as the weighty bulk of the icerigger slashed through.

They were off the occupied trail.

And several gray curves showed above the crest of the forest like islands in a pea-green sea.

"Turn!" Ethan found himself pounding the railing and yelling till his throat hurt. "_Turn_!"

There were commands, but the experienced sailors knew the chance they had to take and the action to make it happen. Everyone on the deck and in the rig-ging rushed as fast as he or she was able to the star-board side of the s.h.i.+p.

With the steering runner hard over until its bolts creaked, the sails properly trimmed, and all movable ma.s.s s.h.i.+fted to one side, the _Slanderscree's_ portside runners lifted with infinite slowness from the surface of the ice ocean.

A few centimeters, a half meter, two meters. A few sailors wrestled their way back to portside. The s.h.i.+p held, heeling dangerously far over on its right side, balancing now on two runners. The duralloy would hold, but what about the iron and steel bolts and wooden braces holding the runners to the s.h.i.+p?

All sailors aloft held on for their lives. If they fell over-board now, into the forest, they knew they could expect no rescue.

Ethan saw wood and sky as he looked toward the left side of the s.h.i.+p. A voluminous black gullet like an empty place in s.p.a.ce loomed over the far railing. There was the sound of an intimate thunder, and suc-tion tore at him, then was gone. Two tusks, each thicker than the _Slanderscree's_ mainmast, caught the sun and sent it tumbling into his mask, temporarily blinding him.

"By the Servants of the Dark One, she'll go over!" someone howled.

The tusks came down, fourteen meters of solid ivory, tons of beauty in the mouth of a demon.

But by that time the s.h.i.+p had already shot past.

Ethan leaned over the railing to look back, saw the tusks strike ice and send tenkilo splinters flying. A tiny wild eye, set back of that monstrous maw, rolled dully at him and he fancied he could see through it and into a ridiculously small brain.

Dimly, he was aware of mates shouting orders. Spars were realigned, sails trimmed. Slowly the s.h.i.+p settled back to an even keel. A dull _thrrrump_ sounded, like a t.i.tanic belch, as the portside runners smashed back onto the ice. A wooden brace somewhere below deck cracked audibly, but both runners held.

Everyone had expected the impact, held on through the violent jarring. No one was shaken over the side.

"Too close," Hunnar muttered as he mounted the helmdeck. The knight was panting steadily, Ethan no-ticed. As for himself, he was sweating heavily despite the survival-suit's compensators. Thermotropic mate-rial can adjust only so fast.

Ethan moved carefully down to the main cabin. Anything still intact in the galley and capable of being heated would taste good just now.

He encountered EerMeesach at the doorway. They entered together.

" 'Twas a herd guide we first encountered, not a solitaire or rogue." The wizard, for once, did not ap-pear excited by an interesting encounter. "In a herd, the stavanzer will proceed and eat in parallel line.

We ran back along the guide's trail, right into their line, and barely did we miss the end guards."

Ethan saw too clearly in his mind's eye the final bottomless gullet they'd just avoided. It was probably only his fevered imagination, distorted in his memory by fear and terror, but the last stavanzer had looked big enough to swallow the entire s.h.i.+p and use the mainmast for a toothpick.

He'd done very little real work, but his body had burned plenty of calories. In any case, there was something rea.s.suring and normal about eating.

He'd had enough of the extraordinary to last him for a while.

*VIII*

The next time the lookouts cried out, it was in a more normal voice, tinged this time with excitement of a pleasured kind.

Minutes later, without warning, the green forest vanished and began to shrink behind them. They'd emerged from the pikapedan and were traveling across pikapina once more. Soon Ethan could no longer look astern and see the gap where they had emerged.

Three days more and they left furry b.u.t.terflies and green ice fuzz behind and were again chivaning across open ice. Tahoding's relief was palpable, that of his men almost too intense to bear.

When they pa.s.sed a small trading raft, its single small deck piled high with strapped down goods, the cheers of the crew would have led an onlooker to sur-mise they had reached Trannish heaven. They had not, but the normal world of free ice and other s.h.i.+ps was as much as the lowliest hand could wish.

The trader's crew crowded its railing to stare in awe at the enormous icerigger. Clearly, they'd never heard of it, a measure of how far from Arsudun the _Slanderscree_ had come. Both crews barely had time to exchange a few brief shouts and queries before the impatient wind separated them.

"Where are they going?" Ethan asked Hunnar.

"Not to Poyolavomaar," said a disappointed Hun-nar. "We will try to make more time for asking with the next s.h.i.+p we pa.s.s."

That s.h.i.+p turned out to be another trader, one twice the size of the first they'd encountered, nearly thirty meters long. It even boasted a central cabin. Its crew's amazement at the sight of the _Slanderscree_, however, was no less than that of the first raft they'd pa.s.sed.

Although traveling on a course similar to that of the icerigger, the trader was not proceeding to Poyolavomaar. But its crew gladly gave confirmation that the great s.h.i.+p was traveling in the right direction.

They pa.s.sed other vessels. Commerce here was not heavy, but it was steady. Several rocky islets grew, slid past. A couple showed signs of habitation. Even-tually they grew so numerous that Tahoding ordered some sails taken in.

They were traveling through a region of many tiny islands. Smoke curled from chimneys of steep-roofed houses cringing like brown barnacles to miniature har-bors or crawling antlike up talus-strewn slopes. Neatly laid out and carefully cultivated fields of pikapina huddled in the lee of sheltering islets. Startled Tran would glance up as the _Slanderscree_ flew past, set to murmuring by the wondrous s.h.i.+p they might or might not have seen.

Two weeks later, after negotiating undulating ar-chipelagos and dangerously low-lying islands that were scattered like reefs in the ice, they reached Poyolavomaar.

Needle-topped crags and spires towered out of the ice, rising to some of the most impressive heights Ethan had encountered on Tran-ky-ky. A few rose three thousand meters into the clear blue sky. The sharp arrogant angles indicated a geologically youth-ful region, for such spires could not long retain their glory under the ceaseless a.s.sault of the planet's erod-ing winds.

The lofty islands that formed the near-circle Tahoding's captain friend had spoken of nearly touched the _Slanderscree's_ flanks, t.i.tanic stone dancers frozen forever only an earth-beat apart. Twisting around the granite needles, the wind acted strangely, as if con-scious of the unusual setting it played in.

Tahoding's task looked difficult, until he saw they could simply follow one of the numerous rafts converging on the island necklace and trail it in.

Homes and other structures, including armed ram-parts, crowded the afterthought slopes which muted the cliffs where they entered the ice. Connecting the visible islands, and probably all of them if the garrulous merchant back in Arsudun was correct, were high stone walls built onto the ice. Each had a wide gate in its middle to permit entry or egress. Fortu-nately, no arch covered the one they approached, or both masts and masonry would have suffered. As it was, there was barely enough room for the icerigger to squeeze through, while guards in the flanking tow-ers gaped or shouted orders.

They made their way inside the ring of towering is-lands. Near the center of the frozen enclosure lay a seventh island, as unlike its companions as they were unlike Arsudun or Sofold. It was almost flat, rising to a peak of barely fifty meters at its highest point. All around, docking piers extended onto the ice from its sh.o.r.e.

Ethan had noticed docks on the surrounding islands also. But judging from the vast number of rafts tied up here, this had to be the center of commercial activity.

Crowning the high point of the island was a three-tiered stone castle as impressive as that of Wannome. Smoke drifted to the west from flues and chimneys.

"What a magnificent place," Ethan murmured. He searched for better words, but they escaped him.

Occasionally he wished for the tongue of a poet instead of a huckster.

"Aye, young feller-me-lad. A more perfect settin' for a harbor would be hard to imagine. And all they've got to do is defend those connecting walls. No enemy's going to climb over those mountains."

Williams was studying the heavily forested slopes. "Lumber rich, too. Without transportation problems. They need only cut a tree down and it will slide most of the way to the ice."

"Truly Captain MidanGee did not deceive us." Tahoding was already hunting for an open landing.

"This is a wealthy, powerful state."

"A good place to begin the confederation," Ethan added.

Hunnar snorted skeptically, stalked away. He still held only the slimmest of hopes for the human's bi-zarre idea that the Tran could agree on anything except their hereditary fear, suspicion, and hatred of strangers.

Williams suddenly clapped his hands together, start-ing like a little boy who'd just found a coin in the street. The survival suit gloves m.u.f.fled the sound of the clap and what wasn't smothered was carried away unheard by the wind, but Ethan saw the movement.

"See something interesting, Milliken?"

"Not that, not that, Ethan. I just realized what this place is!" That unspecific announcement rekindled Hunnar's attention. "Poyolavomaar is a caldera."

"A what?" Hunnar, naturally, did not recognize the Terranglo term. But neither did Ethan.

The diminutive teacher tried to explain. "Some time in the past, Sir Hunnar, these peaks we see now rose even higher, and this circular harbor we now traverse was a solid mountain several _satch_ high. It was a vol-cano, like the smoking mountain you knew as ThePlaceWhereTheEarth'sBloodBurns.

"And like that volcano, this one too blew up in a cataclysmic explosion, leaving only fragments of its outside wall. A central cinder cone started to build a new mountain inside the hollow left by the old one, but never got started before the flow of magma- molten rock-stopped. The soft cinders wore down quickly, leaving the central island we're heading for now. The original volcano was probably more than twice the height of the surrounding island peaks."

It was discomfiting to realize they were traveling through the throat of a ghost mountain and that some-where far below, plutonic pressures could even now be building up enough energy to erupt unexpectedly. Ethan was glad when the small, streamlined ice raft pulled up alongside them. It gave him something else to concentrate on.

One of the _Slanderscree's_ mates exchanged words with the operators of the small vessel, then reported to Tahoding.

"Harbor pilot," said the captain with evident satis-faction. "They are sophisticated here, though the pier they have a.s.signed us is barely half our length. No matter. 'Tis a trouble we'll likely face wherever we go."

As sails were taken in, the great icerigger followed the pilot raft toward the northeastern side of the cen-tral island. Other s.h.i.+ps gave them plenty of room, their crews crowding railings to stare as the huge raft chivaned past.

Once more the anchors were released, and the docking procedure employed successfully at Arsudun was repeated. The _Slanderscree_ was pushed slightly westward by the wind before the anchors brought her to a complete stop.

Ethan, September, Hunnar, Williams, Elfa, and a soldier named Tersund a.s.sembled to greet the harbor-master, who didn't take long to appear. He was short for a Tran, almost Ethan's size, and wore a strange coat of archil and argent done in diamond patterns, the diamond shapes varying in size. Like all Tran torso-wear it was slitted at the sides to permit the dan to move freely, and fastened with silver braid at shoul-ders and upper thighs. Belts of some snakelike skin formed an "X" across his chest. He picked absently at his left elbow.

"I hight Valsht," he said in a thin, reedy voice that nevertheless carried an air of authority, "master of Poyolavomaar commerce. I extend warmth and greet-ings." He performed an elaborate weaving of paws which Ethan didn't recognize.

Hunnar launched into introductions and explanations.

When the redbearded knight had finished, Valsht responded almost as if he were anxious to be rid of them, though it was probably only his naturally nerv-ous character reacting normally.

"This confederation you speak of and the reasons for it are not for a simple servant like myself to pon-der on. 'Tis a matter for Tonx Ghin Rakossa, Land-grave of Poyolavomaar, Bringer of the Fair Wind and Solace of the Six Peaks, to decide. I am instructed to conduct you immediately to the grand presence."

That little speech, which sounded rehea.r.s.ed despite Valsht's evident attempt to make it appear extempo-raneous, tickled warning thoughts in Ethan's mind. He shrugged them away. Tran-ky-ky was making him sus-picious of every stranger they met. If he'd been able to see that thought in Ethan's mind, Hunnar would have enjoyed a knowing laugh.

The harbormaster relaxed slightly, straining to see into every corner of the icerigger. "You appear to have been on a long voyage."

"A modest journey," admitted Hunnar.

"We are a state of much commerce." Valsht said this matter-of-factly, without boasting. "s.h.i.+ps come from many thousands of _satch_ distant to trade and exchange their goods here in Poyolavomaar. We have," and he rolled his brilliant yellow eyes in a manner which Ethan had come to know as the Tran equivalent of a sly wink, "many facilities for weary travelers. Reasons why our city is such a popular place to trade, for is not trading a tiresome business and respite after a hard day a necessity rather than a luxury? I am sure your crew would enjoy the sights and availabilities of our city."

"Your hospitality is most welcome. We accept." Hunnar turned, called up to the helmdeck. "Captain, we are given invitation! Give three-quarters of the crew leave to visit the city. They have earned it. The remaining fourth may go when the first quarter of leave-takers returns."

Tahoding indicated his agreement. The order was relayed to the mates, who in turn dispersed it among their subordinates. Prolonged shouting and cries of de-light echoed from various sections of the s.h.i.+p as each knot of sailors received word of their permission to go ash.o.r.e and relax.

The decision to grant liberty having been made, the greeting party followed the harbormaster up the pier and into the town, Tran traveling on icepaths while the humans elected to leave their skates on board and walk alongside.

Shouts and insults, h.e.l.los and d.a.m.nations, promises and lies filled the freezing air around them. They is-sued from booths, stalls, cabarets and cloaked door-ways, knots of huddled Tran and isolated craftsmen and children. Even the beggars appeared well fed. Signs of prosperity and ruthlessness coexisted, and the average expression was one of mellow avarice.

"Something wrong," September said with a grunt.

Pessimism was part of September's natural reaction to anything unfamiliar, and Ethan knew it. He didn't mention his own initial suspicion of Valsht's seemingly prepared greeting, having already dismissed that as unwonted.

"What's bothering you, Skua?" He strayed onto the icepath, slipped, regained his balance while glaring at a covey of cubs who'd witnessed his clumsiness.

"Not sure, feller-me-lad. That's what's botherin' me most." He didn't elaborate and Ethan, excited at the prospect of finally trying out their confederation pro-posal on a prospective government, didn't pursue the conversation.

The slope they were climbing never turned steep, and the main approach to the castle was placed from the western side of the island so that the prevailing wind blew always from the back of anyone ap-proaching. Thus, the Tran did not have to tack up-hill, but were swept upward effortlessly while Ethan and September struggled to keep pace.

A central gate of dark wood bound with bra.s.s fit-tings admitted them to a wide courtyard. Guards stared at the humans and pointed, all the while chat-ting among themselves. The group pa.s.sed the armory, which seemed unusually large to Ethan, then entered the main structure. A long iced ramp led to a floor, a hallway, and finally into a circular domed chamber.