Paul O Williams - [Pelbar Cycle 04] Read online

  Sandra notched her stick conscientiously, though they both knew it useless.

  The other scrap was small and carefully cut out. In very faint ink someone had drawn a square around some of the writing. Gamwyn stared at it a long time. “Read,” Sandra said. The Nicfad took his arm in a tight grip. The old woman frowned and removed his hand.

  Gamwyn sighed. “I don’t understand it all. This first word above the inked square, for example. The second is ‘there.’ Then this number is a nine. Then it says, ‘If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea’; then this is a ten. Then it says, ‘Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.’ Then this is an eleven, but that is all.”

  “ ‘Thy’? What is ‘thy’?”

  “I don’t know, but it must be an ancient word for •your.’ ”

  “Whose?”

  “I don’t know. It seems of little importance.” But Gamwyn knew it was a reference to Aven. He had leaned over the scrap furiously memorizing it. He had it now. It was ancient scripture, even here in the middle of this slave community.

  “You do know,” Sandra said, shaking him.

  “It means nothing.” The Nicfad took his arm and began to bend it. “It is only a reference to Aven, whom some societies call God. I know you have rejected him as a falsity. So you see, it means nothing.”

  The old woman looked at him steadily. “God,” she said, “That all?”

  “Yes. That all.”

  Sandra snorted and turned away, saying over her shoulder, “Nicfad, take him.”

  The man hooked his stave in Gamwyn’s collar and led him out, throwing him down several times before they reached the open. Then he led him through the circles and back to the slave compound. Once inside, he took him to a guard tower and hurled him through the door. Gamwyn sprawled on the floor at the boots of another Nicfad. The man raised his boot and set it slowly down on the boy’s hand. Then he put his other boot on Gamwyn’s other hand.

  “You trouble,” he said. “One more birdsqueak out of you and you will fry, Peshtak.”

  Gamwyn squeezed his eyes against the pain, gasping, “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

  The Nicfad let him up, then shook him. “You stay in compound. Don’t worry. We find plenty for you to do. Come here in morning. Now go. Time for smoke.”

  Gamwyn found Syle astonished to see him. They had all assumed he was dead. In low voices they discussed all that had happened. Gamwyn kept nothing from him. “They’re all crazy—staring mad,” he finally said in summary.

  Syle beckoned a young Siveri nearby, and the man rolled over. ‘This is Nim. The Nicfad brought in nine more Siveri while you were away. We’ve been talking. I’ve got them to resist breathing in the smoke. We’ve made progress. We found a way out, by digging under the boards in the gang privy and out through the levee.”

  “You can’t do that,” Gamwyn said.

  “Can’t? Why?”

  “When the river comes up it will flood the compound.” “Oh. When is that?”

  “If it rises, it will be in the fourth or fifth month, when the snow has melted in the north. It all depends on rain and how much snow there was.”

  “Then we have time. We’ll fill the hole again and find another way when the time comes. We’re already almost fifteen arms into the bank behind a large stone under the boat landing. Hog snouts. We’re digging.”

  Gamwyn whistled low.

  “I’ve learned something else. Almost all the Nicfad smoke the leaves. They take it from the guard tower supply. They really keep a lax watch. They depend on their dogs if anybody gets away—and they depend on the passiveness of the Siveri.”

  Nim snorted slightly. “They ain’t all passive. You don’t know. Not now, anyways. We got them busy, them we can trust. Just disrupting.”

  “Don’t do too much,” Gamwyn said. “It’ll alert them.” “Nope. Just catchin5 mice and lettin’ them loose in the food bam. Just grindin’ crystals into the dog meat when we can.”

  “You get to the dog meat?”

  “One does. Yeah.”

  “Are the May apples up yet?”

  “Just cornin’ a little. You mean mix some root in? They might catch us.”

  “They might. But we could kill one. Maybe the best dog.”

  Nim chuckled. The signal for supper came.

  Meanwhile, at Threerivers, Udge stood in the Broad Tower, hands clasped behind her. All in all, she was satisfied. She retreated into her inner room as the workmen repaired the damage to her rooms from the fire set during Brudoer’s punishment. But four nights had passed, and so far no violence had occurred. Perhaps it was all talk. Perhaps the boy had finally offended everyone and they no longer cared. Perhaps Bival had been right in insisting that Pion be beaten in place of his son. As the early light grew, the Protector stretched and yawned. A light knock came at the door. The sand clock had it still early. Udge frowned. “Come in,” she said.

  Cilia entered and bowed. “Protector,” she said. Her face was pale.

  Udge was instantly alert. “What? Something has happened.”

  “The men. Most of the men are gone. About a hundred, including at least half the male guardsmen. There are hardly any left.”

  Udge drew in her breath. “The other guardsmen. Are they following?”

  “They’re awaiting your orders, Protector. They are sure to be far outnumbered. All the longbows are gone. The shortbows that are not taken have almost all been destroyed. If the inside guard were to go, it would leave the city unprotected.”

  Udge sat down. “Is that all?”

  “No, Protector. Some of the women and children have gone with the men. We haven’t counted, but we think well over a hundred people left last night.”

  “I—I wouldn’t have thought that of the guard.”

  “No, Protector. Apparently, though, a number were convinced by the bracelet.”

  “If you only hadn’t read that inscription. That was stupid.”

  “I thought we agreed to. Besides, the guardsman that gave it to me saw it. Your lie was quite transparent to the others.”

  Udge’s anger flared, but she saw only the compliant Cilia’s worried face. She put her hands over her eyes, then looked up again. “Well, the city itself is impregnable, even with only a few. Call a council meeting for high sun. Bring the boy to it. We’ll settle this once and for all.”

  Far below them, Brudoer was studying the cell desperately. He couldn’t hope to hold off a hostile assault for long. He had to find the secret of the cell, or else find a way to get out. He had tapped on all the stones with the mussel-shell frieze, but none rang hollow. He sat back again. It was strange. The stones seemed arranged in a large diamond pattern, like the small ones in the previous cells, and one diamond seemed slightly darker. The bottom stone was a part of the mussel frieze. It too was darker. In an eyeblink, he saw it—if that stone were removed, the whole wall might come down. He went to it and pried in the crack with his spoon. It moved.

  Then he looked again. If the wall came down, that would damage the city, opening a whole side, perhaps. That was too severe. With the present turmoil, it would leave them unprotected. Maybe that wouldn’t happen. Brudoer touched the stone above and to the left. Perhaps if that one wasn’t intertied, he could remove it and study the mussel stone. It seemed solid. He threw his weight against it, and it slid inward easily. Brudoer found he couldn’t slide it back. It was square and flat and would have to be pushed from the other side. He pushed it farther and wormed into the opening. He was in a hollow in the wall, and a tiny upper opening admitted a whisker-narrow shaft of light.

  Turning, Brudoer studied the stone he had first worked on, slowly realizing that the whole wall would not have come down, for it was intertied from the rear. But the large stone above would have caused a collapse. From his . new vantage Brudoer could see it was a familiar wall trap design of the sort used to protect Pelbar cities from infiltration. It would have killed him if he had been
willing to bring the wall down. Brudoer felt sweat bead on his forehead. At that moment he head voices. Quickly he moved the stone back into place with the iron handle on its back side. Was he free? He wasn’t sure. At least he was out of the cell.

  If they came for him, they would never find him now. Where that got him, he wasn’t sure, but as he turned to look around, he realized that he was in a passageway leading upward—stairs. He turned and groped his way up inside the great walls of the tall city.

  When the full council gathered, the usual buzz of talk was wholly absent. Silence dripped from the walls. Udge was very uneasy. After opening the meeting with a cursory prayer, she announced, “As far as we know now, a hundred and eleven people have gone. This includes ninety-three males and eighteen women and girls. Remaining in the city are thirty-four males, mostly old or boys, and two hundred thirty-two women. The guardsmen have informed me that the boy, Brudoer, has gone as well.”

  “Protector, I saw him in his cell early this morning.” Udge turned to the guardsman and raised her eyebrows, then turned back. “The boy is not in his cell. Now that the cancer is out of the city, perhaps we can begin again. We will need to reassign the work. We need not worry. The city is impregnable. Pelbarigan itself cannot interfere with us because they could never get in. Any Peshtak in the area cannot, either. We will have to work hard. Very hard. Women will have to do the menial work of the males until we can raise more. The quadrant counsels will have to assume much authority. In this regard I am announcing, in this emergency, that I am substituting Dardan for Bival as Southcounsel for obvious reasons. Bival’s talents lie elsewhere. Perhaps we are in crisis, but we are also purified and can start over. The vision of Craydor will not be dimmed. This is only a clearing of the eye. We—”

  “It is a gouging out of the eye,” the Ardena said. “Your policies have finally wrecked the city, and you sit there bragging about it.”

  Udge turned, raising her eyebrows. “Were you addressing me?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Use the proper form or be removed.”

  “The proper form? Yes. Of course. Destroyer of Threerivers. It is like you. The proper form indeed.”

  “I see no danger to the city, no destruction. Only some trash removed from it. Now, guardsmen, take her from the chamber. We are orderly here.”

  Two guardsmen moved alongside the Ardena and lifted her, as she shouted, “That’s like you, Destroyer. You see no damage to the city because a city is stones to you. It isn’t people. What is a city with no people? A ruin. What are people with no city? They are still people, the essence of the whole thing. You and these blind cave crickets will have this place empty and—”

  The guardsmen carried her around the comer beyond the Judgment Room. Bival rose and followed her.

  “Bival,” Udge said. “I don’t recall adjourning.”

  “I have adjourned myself, Protector. It makes no difference. I am not on the council anymore.”

  “Return and sit.”

  “No. The Ardena is right. I should have seen it. You are set on a course to destroy Threerivers.”

  “Guardsmen, remove her and place her in the first cell.” A murmur arose in the room. A guardsman followed Bival and took her arm. She did not resist.

  Again the Judgment Room fell to silence. Udge said nothing for a time. Finally Cilia rose and said, “Protector.” “Yes.”

  “Might I suggest that we adjourn now? We can plan a division of work more easily in the smaller group of the inner council, assigning some to the cleaning, some to planting, some to the lifting of the water, some to the bees, some to the stores, some to textiles, some to preparation for trade.” It was clear to all that this is what Udge had asked Cilia to say.

  One family head, trembling with age, stood and said, “But Protector, many of us know nothing of these things. We have always managed. These are lowly things. You must arrange our city so the changes will not be too harsh.” “Of course, Geryana. We will consult with great care. Now, this meeting stands adjourned.” The remaining guardsman thumped her long-sword, and all rose to leave.

  11

  at U Bend events moved slowly but steadily. Under Nim’s direction, the slaves did manage to kill one dog without drawing suspicion. But they came to see that there was little point in piecemeal harassments.

  Syle noticed that one Nicfad was in the habit of mounting the guard tower by walking up a single notched log leaning against the river side. Everyone else either went around or went up on all fours, but the Nicfad was proud of his balance, which was good, and he ascended easily. The Peshtak contrived to mix mud and grease and coat a step near the top. That afternoon the guard trotted up the log, slipped, fell, and impaled himself on the palisade.

  The dead man was unmarried, so the slaves buried him in the small interment patch outside the circles, then at great risk secretly dug him up again, the dogs whining in the distance, and carried him to a storage barn half filled with straw. This they set afire, and when called to fight it, went with a great rush of concern. Afterward, scratching in the rubble, they found a charred body and they lamented the loss of one of their own. The Nicfad were contemptuous and uncaring. Thinking the remains that of a slave, they ordered them buried in the north field for fertilizer.

  This kept the slave count right and freed one of Nim’s men, Muse, for living in the lengthening tunnel. Every night when two or three got out through the privy tunnel, glided down the river, and crawled ashore under the dock, the tunnel behind Muse was nearly choked with new loose dirt. The others waded it out into the river in baskets and bags, then quietly spilled it into the current Gamwyn, who was kept endlessly busy cooking, washing, moving straw, and waiting on the Nicfad, nonetheless helped by stealing food for Muse and teaching the others how to measure the tunnel’s length by triangulation. The slaves were amazed at his mathematics, but he realized his knowledge of such things was little—what was necessary for an average worker in Threerivers.

  They used a long string to measure the digging, with a knot in it for every arm. Every evening while on some errand, Gamwyn would pace the calculated distance by proportion inside the compound wall, drop something at the correct point, lean and pick it up, and continue. From a station by the corner of the smoking house Syle or a Siveri would note how far under the circle the tunnel had progressed.

  One evening during smoke time, Gamwyn was late after running an errand for a Nicfad, who opened the door and threw him in. He wormed his way to Syle and whispered, “The river is coming up already. It’s early. That may mean a real flood. I’m worried. We aren’t far enough yet. It may be a long, slow rise, and a long crest. That would help us. It would soak the ground. But we may not make it.”

  “We have to.”

  “I hope. I hope and pray.”

  Two evenings later, Syle informed Gamwyn they were passing the tower underground. They were also having trouble breathing in the long tunnel. The solution—tunneling to the well Gamwyn had stoned and opening a passage into it to admit air—took delay, care, and tricky measuring.

  The river continued to rise, with all the leisure of a gigantic, lethargic serpent, slipping slowly back into the trees on the west bank, swelling up the levees. Eventually it was well into the tunnel, and Gamwyn cursed himself for not starting it higher up the bank.

  In the tunnel Muse dug uphill, but the water followed him. Finally he had to come out, breathing from the last handbreadth of air under the roof. A hurried decision under the dock called for his escape at that point, and he slipped downstream in the dark.

  Gamwyn finally convinced them to close the tunnel at the privy, but the outside entrance was already in the water, and too muddy to seal tightly. They packed it with stone and bags of sand.

  Coming back from the fields two days later, they were met by a party of Nicfad and dogs. They had captured Muse, and led him, stumbling and beaten, back to U Bend. The slaves all watched in silence as he was led toward the compound. Torture, perhaps a confession, wou
ld follow.

  Once the slaves were back in the compound, grim Nicfad lined them up in rows near the main guardhouse. They could hear Muse screaming inside.

  A Nicfadleader mounted the guard tower and looked down at them. “So,” he said. “You thought to escape. To cooperate.” His jaw rippled. “You will soon see results of such folly. We will learn it all, slackers, dead fish, swamp rats. We will crush all involved.” His tone changed. “You had part with us in building of this society, but you rejected it. You given place on work force on which we stand, but you have scorned it. I treating you all as guilty, from oldest on down. You will do well to tell us what you know. Otherwise, we will start with one of you and work through all until we learn what has happened. All.” He laughed. “But I know it will not take that. We will root out this evil early enough. No evil tolerated. We will crush it. Now. No food tonight. Get to smoking house. No talking. We will post guards inside. Think it over. Either we cut out this evil easily, or we crush pack of you!” The Nicfad waved his fist in the air.

  As he turned to leave, another Nicfad appeared with him on the platform and began an animated discussion. Gamwyn could see they were arguing. Finally the Nicfad-leader threw up his hands and turned to cry out, “Halt, all of you. Return.”

  The guards turned the slaves and brought them back into line. The Nicfadleader leaned on the railing and shouted, “There is seep into inner field. We will need all to work on levee. Now. Do not think I have forgotten what I said. After this emergency, we will proceed. Now, guards, march them out in squads!”

  As it grew darker, torches were brought, and the whole slave population was put to bailing the inner field, which covered the neck of the river bend, bringing stone from far beyond the circles, piling stones and dirt sacks against the softened wall of earth. Gamwyn was startled to see how quickly the river had risen, now high on the levee. Soon workmen from the circles were brought to help protect the low, broad field, which had been prepared for cotton planting. Already much of the levee had been stoned, but the work proceeded slowly, and the river did not gain. The Nicfad seemed more surly than ever. At one point, a guard knocked down one of Nim’s men, and the frustrated Siveri stood up and swung his water-laden bucket.