Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 27

Only Dougal retained the power of movement. He reeled forward and dropped to his knees. His face was contorted with pain and joy and tears flowed down his cheeks. "It's you!" he cried. "It's you!"

The brief flash of uncanny power shut off as though it had been only inadvertently manifested. The little man in the golden leather suit stood there, leaning casually against the throne, his aspect quite normal.

"Not to brag," said Aiken, "but Marc Remillard may discover a nasty surprise if he attempts to invade this continent.

Remember that his power during the Metapsychic Rebellion rested in a vast a.s.semblage of minds, which he directed in aggressive metaconcert. Here in the Pliocene he's handicapped.

A lot of his old cronies are worn out. Others are unreliable-or their metafunctions aren't suited to offence. It seems very likely that if he comes against Me, he'll have to come alone. His people will try to help him, but their efforts will be piddling compared to the kind of fighting that went on during the Rebellion. We can lick 'em-and we can build that gate! The job will be easier if you help. Will you?"

Dougal had both hands pressed to the leonine charge embroidered on his new surtout. Still weeping, he spoke in a low voice.

"Before, with your glory masked, I did not know you. None of us did. But now I see you, Asian, came to save Narnia just as I prayed. You will not abandon us to pa.s.s through the dread doorway. You will not let the dream die-"

"Be quiet," said the King sharply; and although he withheld his coercive power, the mad medievalist subsided, sinking down with his face to the marble floor. Aiken stepped around him to survey the others.

"Will you help me freely?" he asked, and his voice was strangely dulled.

There was a brief pause. "Yes," said Basil at last. "Those of us who would stay in the Pliocene will cooperate for the sake of our friends who wish to leave."

Aiken sighed. "Thank you." Behind the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, the doors of the grand salon opened. Parthol Swiftfoot stood there, this time attired in full armour that blazed blue-green in the dusk.

Beside him was Ochal the Harper. Their minds said: You summoned us High King.

"These friends are to be conducted to rooms where they can rest," Aiken said aloud. He turned to Basil. "Tomorrow, we'll confer about an aircraft salvage expedition to the Alps. My Deputy Lord Psychokinetic, Bleyn the Champion, will lead you.

You'll leave as soon as possible."

"As you like, sir," Basil inclined his head slightly and sent a brief telepathic image to the others. Those who were still sitting arose. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds began to drift toward the doors.

Dougal roused and climbed to his feet. He pulled a linen mouchoir out of one mailed sleeve and blew his nose. The dreamy look was gone as he eyed the King and said, "If you plan to whip up Guderian's Gazebo from scratch, Asian, take my advice and get hold of my old master, Tony Wayland. I mean, extruding that b.l.o.o.d.y niobium-dysprosium wire for the tau-generator alone will call for world-cla.s.s boffinry, to say nothing of refining the stuff from ores. Tony ran the barium works in Finiah ... Really knows his metallic stuff, old Tony."

Aiken was urgent. "Where is he now?"

Dougal rolled his eyes heavenward. "Alas! He was n.o.bbled by wicked dwarfs in the Vosges woodland, and only I escaped to tell the tale!"

Aiken shot a telepathic instruction to Parthol, who came up and put a gently coercive hand on Dougal's shoulder and suggested, "Why don't you come along and tell me all about it?"Dougal suffered himself to be guided toward the door, but as it was closing, he said over his shoulder, "And thou, Asian, in thine own hand bear the power to cancel his captivity ... a parlous exchange, yet necessary, I ween." And he was gone.

Aiken shook his head and the expression he showed to Ochal was almost helpless. "I suppose Parthol will make sense of it.

Creator ingenuity ... but dammit, Occy, there's something uncanny about that big gomeril."

"I sensed it too, High King." Thinly veiled anxiety hovered behind his social screen. "Is it well with you? We could have the North Americans wait longer-"

"No. There isn't time. Dougal was right ... 'twere well it were done quickly."

"They have followed our instructions with complete docility and await your pleasure. Would you believe that they've brought five tiny toddlers along with them?"

"I'm ready to believe almost anything these days," Aiken remarked. "You got the big sigma from Hagen Remillard without any ha.s.sle?"

"Yos.h.i.+ is supervising its installation up in the gallery right now, High King."

"Good." Aiken strode to the throne and dropped into it.

"We want to be d.a.m.n sure no unauthorized parties eavesdrop on this next little confab."

"Do you have any other commands?"

Aiken waved a hand. "Just get some greys in here to spiffy up the tea table, then bring on the Children of Rebellion."

Ochal saluted and would have withdrawn, but the King suddenly said, "Do you remember the night I first came to Muriah-King Thagdal's crazy feast, and the show-and-tell we newcomers put on so you could bid for our services?"

"I remember, High King." Ochal's mouth twitched. "What a wild affair that was! And now I see that it was your opening move in the great game."

Aiken seemed to be staring into the far distance. "There was a little human redactor woman, a silver, who sang. Do you remember?"

"I hear her still in memory, s.h.i.+ning One."

Please, said Aiken.

And later, when the North Americans came apprehensively into the sigma-sheltered salon to meet the terrible King of the Many-Coloured Land, they saw a little man sitting on a large lion-crested throne, and at his feet a faerie knight enarmed in amethyst, singing and playing "All Through the Night" on a jewel-starred harp.

When he was certain that the silver-torc castellan and his minions were gone, Basil Wimborne went out onto the balcony of his bedroom, located the Pliocene Polaris, and oriented himself as best he could. The ma.s.sif of the Flaming Mountains lay between Calamosk and Black Crag and his fa.r.s.ensing ability, even when he was wearing gold, had been only meagre. But Elizabeth was a Grand Master, and there was a chance she would hear his feeble grey call.

He closed his eyes, placed his fingers on the warm metal about his neck, and channelled all his psychic energy into the hail: ELIZABETH ...

Basil! O mydear mydear we thought you dead.

CloudRemillard&Nodonn took b.a.s.t.a.r.ds&all in aircraft Afaliah.

But you safe? And others?

Safe now yes. With Aiken Calamosk. You know RebelChildren come?

Yes. And I know theirfather won't be far behind.

Aiken&Children plan use us&aircraft. We agreed.

But Basil ... since you wear grey I presume the others do also and you have been forced to cooperate. There is danger. Aiken will make enemy of Marc by allying with Children. You will be caught in metapsychic quarrel. Better perhaps that I demand Aiken free youElizabeth don't you know?

Why Children come ally with Aiken?

... To escape parents flex muscles mingle other mindTo open time-gate from this side.

Elizabeth? ... Elizabeth?

Yes Basil. How they plan do this?