Bone silence, p.31
Bone Silence, page 31
“What is it you wish to prove?”
Tazaknakak took the quoin. “I think it doubtful that the loss of this one quoin will make any difference to your fate or fortune. Are you agreed?”
“No one really knows what a quoin is worth anyway,” she said. “But you are right. There are many more. Many, many more.”
They went to the nearest lock. There was no need to put on suits, which was useful as there were none that would have fitted the Clacker. They opened the inner door and put the quoin down inside the chamber, allowing the faint gravity of their acceleration to hold it to the floor. Then they shut the inner door, pumped the lungstuff back into the reserve tanks, reducing the pressure in the chamber to nearly zero—gradually, so that the quoin stayed undisturbed—and at last opened the outer door.
They watched through windows in the inner door.
Some gust of residual pressure encouraged the quoin to drift away from the floor. It floated up, then turned so that its face was aligned with the Old Sun and the centre of the Congregation.
“This is not new to me, Tazaknakak. Fura saw the effect in Mulgracen; she mentioned it to me afterwards and each of us has verified it independently for ourselves. I would not have asked you about the affinity if I hadn’t…”
“Watch.”
The quoin was leaving the lock. It was moving slowly, but with a definite intention. Little by little, too, it was gathering speed—hastening away from the Merry Mare.
Hastening to the Old Sun.
The squawk was set to a short-range channel again, just enough to cross the distance from the antenna to Prozor’s helmet. Fura called her name three times, then received the crackle of a return transmission.
“What is it, girlie? Didn’t I tell you I’d still like to keep signallin’, until we know better? This biz’ness requires all of what’s left of the grey in me poor battered noggin, and when you’ve got the ship buckin’ and twistin’ right under me…”
“That wasn’t our doing, Proz—it was Incer Stallis, taking a shot at us. He clipped our sails. Paladin and Tindouf have got us sailing true for now, but it’s too dangerous to stay out there. Now they’ve got something to shoot at, and if they’ve seen even a glimpse of sail-flash they’ll know they’re getting close. Come in as quickly as you can—Tindouf’ll be at the lock to help.”
Prozor gave a scornful snigger. “They’d need to be having the luckiest day of their lives to put a slug through me.”
“Get to that lock,” Fura said, hanging up the squawk handset.
Tindouf was already on his way, and half-suited now just in case he needed to go out there as well. Surt was still in the sighting room, straining her eyes to the limit. Fura would have gladly seen her relieved—she’d have put in her own stint if need be—but it would take too long to winch the sighting room back in and out of the ship, and she could not abide them being blind in that interval.
“Will she be all right?” Ruther asked.
“If she gets a move on.” Fura balled her fist, cursing herself for not calling Prozor sooner. Not that it would likely have made any difference: Prozor had never been the sort to abandon a job halfway through. She thought of that mass of sail billowing around somewhere in the rigging, a writhing creature of pure blackness, and the minor fortune that Prozor had not been caught in the lines and sheets when they went loose. Then she remembered what had been pricking the edge of her thoughts when Tindouf had called in to the warn her that Prozor was not yet returned. “Do you know something, Ruther?”
He looked at her warily. “Captain?”
“You are a very clever boy. I can see why Werranwell kept you close at hand. I doubt it was just because of your capabilities in the bone room.”
“I thought my idea was bad, about going out with the launch.”
“It was. But that ain’t the idea I was thinking about. You said it was a shame we couldn’t fire back at Stallis.”
“And you said the guns would never cool down quickly enough.”
“They won’t. But if there was a way for Stallis not to see them, even if we were maintaining a high rate of fire, and glowing as hot as coals, that would amount to the same thing, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Ruther said doubtfully.
“Relax, boy: it’s not a trap. You gave me half an idea and Stallis helped with the other half, by damaging our sail. Paladin!”
“Yes, Miss Arafura?”
“I wish to use our sails as a camouflaging screen, interposing ’em between us and the pursuing squadron. May that be done?”
“A mass of sail could be cut free, fixed to new lines, and run aft of us, yes.”
“That would take too long. I’m talking about using our spread of sail as it stands now, but turning us, so that we’re on the other side of the sails. May that be done? Keep tension on the yardage by spinning us, if need be, and don’t fear a little touch on the ions, if that helps. I don’t care if it isn’t a stable arrangement.…”
“I assure you it will be anything but stable.”
“Fine—all it’s got to do is provide us with a temporary covering screen for the coillers. Even if we’re moving, slewing laterally to hold tension, it should be within your means to compute firing solutions for a rapid volley?” She grinned, as images of destruction and violence played out in her mind’s eyes, as bloody and vivid as any of the more lurid illustrated periodicals, the sort that Father had always frowned upon. “We’ll run ’em hard and hot, until we no longer have the aiming angle or the covering effect, whichever happens first.”
“Captain?”
“What, boy.”
Ruther looked stricken. By the anguish in his features he clearly wished to say something, something which might be taken the wrong way, yet feared the consequences.
“What I mean to say is…”
“Out with it, Ruther.”
“What I mean is… perhaps I’m not quite following this plan, but if the sails are between us and the enemy… however temporarily… won’t that mean that we have to… shoot through our own sails?”
“The objection is not unreasonable,” Paladin said.
Fura nodded avidly. “That’s the point, you simpletons: it doesn’t matter that we shoot through our own sails! There are leagues upon leagues of ’em, and even if we fire every slug in our stores we’ll only be doing a little damage to a small area. In the meantime, not one photon will get through the parts of the sail that ain’t punctured, and that’ll mean most of the covering screen still holds. Stallis won’t see a hint of our guns, even if they’re close to cooking-point. Now tell me: can it be done?”
Although she was in the control room, not her quarters, she imagined the flash of lights in Paladin’s globe; the play of logic through his circuits and memory registers.
“I must calculate.”
She squeezed her fist. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her to wonder if her enthusiasm for this idea—which was, on the face of it, nearly as mad as it was audacious—was borne out of recognition of its intrinsic cleverness, the one desperate act that might save them, or was instead driven by the glowy, seizing and magnifying the idea not in spite of its madness, but because of that very quality.
Somewhere else in the back of her mind, she knew that she no longer cared.
She roared: “Then damned well calculate!”
Adrana swept her telescope along the length of Trevenza Reach. It was pleasing to her to see many other craft gathered around the world and navigating its near spaces: ships of all sizes and dispositions, some under all sail and some hauled-in. One more ship, even a sunjammer limping in from some doubtful encounter in the Empty, would not draw too much notice.
“Are you sure you’re rested, after that business in the Bone Room?” Lasling asked.
“I am very rested, thank you. I do not think it would have been good for me to be in there very much longer, but you got me out in time. I have had a little headache, and the Clacker does not help it, and now and then I feel nauseous, but there are no more serious after-effects.”
“Was it wrong, to smash up the skull like we did?”
“No. It was entirely the right thing, and you must think no more of it.”
“I suppose we’ve come to the perfect place to find a new one. Or newer, I should say.”
She smiled tightly. “Yes—there’ll be things to procure. Not just a skull.” Intentionally changing the subject she added: “We’ll come in all the way, if there are no objections. “Unless there is a compelling reason otherwise, I think we will take the closer of those two docking complexes. Haul-in as you may, but leave us enough spread to sail away if the reception is not as warm as we’d wish.” She snapped the telescope shut, content to take in the entirety of their destination with her unaided vision. “It’s a pretty little trinket, isn’t it? It reminds me of an ornament Fura and I were once given. I almost feel that I could reach out and shake it, and a snowstorm would flurry down inside.”
“I’ve never known snow.”
“Nor have I,” Adrana said. “But I have seen pictures. Paladin used to show us drawings and paintings when he was telling us stories. He was always very good at telling stories. Besides, snow isn’t just some something from fairy tales. It does snow on some of the worlds, doesn’t it?”
“I gather it does, especially out in the colder orbits. I haven’t seen such places for myself, though, and I doubt I ever will.”
“There’s always time, Lasling.”
“Not for me, I fear. There’s just too much of everything and too little of me. A sixth of me’s gone, I’m two thirds of the way through my natural span, and I haven’t seen a thousandth part of the Congregation.” He coughed, and sounded as if he wished to strike a less maudlin note. “Still, it is a pretty trinket, as you say.”
“They say spindleworlds are rare.”
“Rare because they break so easily, so even if there was once lots of them, and that’s not a proven fact, not many have come through to the present.”
“Why do you think this one has endured?”
“It’s a bit like asking, why has this nice wine glass not shattered, when all the others have. There’s no reason except the others weren’t so lucky. And when you’re down to a few of something, I s’pose you take better care of what’s left.”
The spindleworld was three and a third times as long as it was wide, and it was only wide at its thickest part, the exact middle. It tapered down between the middle and the ends, five leagues in either distance. There were long, triangular windows cut into the tapering parts: six in each half, running nearly from the middle to the end, with strips of uninterrupted floor between each window. The interior was almost entirely covered over with city: numerous interlocked and festering districts sprawling out along the floored parts and even spilling out over the windows, clinging to the thickest parts of their mullions. Her telescope was good, but she was having to look through porthole glass that was not quite as excellent nor as clean, though that blurriness only made the world look more tantalising, more full of life and possibility. The entire structure was rotating on its longest axis, with a grand, slow stateliness, so that as one set of windows went out of sight, another came into view, like a sort of clockwork diorama of intricate tableaux.
There were three possible docking sites: a ring-shaped complex around the middle, which—because it was rotating—was suited only to rocket craft, and two similar facilities at the sharp ends. The world was turning there as well, of course, but the docking positions were almost on the axis of rotation, and therefore as close to weightless as made no difference, and even a sunjammer could berth there without too much difficulty.
That was not her intention, but she would have Lasling bring them as close as possible, and then they could take the rocket launch a league or two over, which would cost more in suiting-up time than it did in travel or expenditure, and yet would permit some of the sails to remain hauled-out, with their mirrored sides averted.
“Somewhere in that world, Lasling, is a man called Hasper Quell. It seems quite impossible now, but I hope we won’t have too much trouble finding him.”
“Is this gent known to you?”
“Not directly. The Clacker mentioned him as a potential contact, a man who has been helpful to fugitives such as himself. I thought the name meant something to me, yet I’ve never been to Trevenza. It puzzled me for a little while, until I remembered that my sister has been here before.”
“And Captain Fura told you about this man?”
“In her book. She wrote an account of her adventures, and in it she came into contact with Hasper Quell, which is why the name was familiar to me. It at least confirms that he is real, and he may be reached. That is a start. But I have misgivings.”
“How so?”
“The man betrayed Fura. Or was himself betrayed—either way, when she went to him for help, it ended with her being captured and taken back to Mazarile. I can’t be sure if Hasper Quell did his best and was put in an impossible position, or whether he can’t be trusted at all.”
“And what does the Clacker say?”
“It’s too late to ask, Lasling. Lagganvor and I put him back into his container, and now he’s out of communication. By the time I made the connection with my sister’s journal, he was already in the box.”
“Then wake the cove and press him about Hasper Quell.”
“I daren’t do that. His box is unreliable, and we need it to keep functioning until we’re safely inside Trevenza. Bringing in a live Clacker would raise too many questions. I’m not saying all the customs men will be on the lookout for Tazaknakak, but it would only take one bad apple to undo our plans.”
“Then you’re in, pardon my bluntness, something of a bind. You have to put your trust in this man, who might rat you out.”
“Lagganvor will go ahead of us and make contact. He’s good at that. Once I have his reassurance, I’ll feel better.”
“Once or twice, Captain—and you’ll excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn—but once or twice I’ve wondered if you and Mister Lag don’t have some business between you. Some business that might mean your trust in him ain’t as rock-solid as it should be.”
She deliberated over her answer. “You are correct, and you haven’t spoken out of turn. There was a… difficulty between me and Lagganvor. But that’s rather behind us now. In fact, Mister Lagganvor means to speak to you all about it, before we take the launch. I think you will find it… enlightening.”
“What you ask of me will be very difficult,” Paladin said. “I will need to adjust the rigging almost constantly, so as to avoid the catchcloth sails being blown into us, or the ordinary sails throwing light at our adversaries. Then there is the question of how we initiate this turn in the first place. There are a number of possibilities, but each has its drawbacks, and…”
“I never thought it would be simple, Paladin,” Fura said. “Just answer my question: is it feasible?”
“I believe it is feasible.”
“Good—that’s all I ask for.” She reached for the handset again. “Proz—I’ve got an idea to let us start bloodying some noses—since they’re so intent on bloodying ours—but since we’ll be putting a hard torque on the ship, I want you inside before we attempt it. How far are you from that lock?”
There was a buzz of static, a crackle or two, but no reply.
She clicked the handset again.
“Proz? Where are you?”
“I’s at the lock,” Tindouf said, cutting in on the same channel. “And I can see out through the porthole, but I can’ts see any signs of Prozor.”
“I told her to stop sending that signal,” Fura said, angry and concerned in the same breath. “Paladin: be ready on my word, but don’t start to turn us until I say so.”
She left the console and the sweeper and fought her way through the warren of corridors and squeeze-throughs that led to the main lock. She was nearly there when Eddralder appeared around the corner of a passage, blocking her way.
“Is this a good time?” he asked mildly.
“Does it look like a good time?”
“I wouldn’t know. You look aggrieved. Then again, lately you look aggrieved under almost any circumstances.”
“Well, let me explain the circumstances as they presently apply,” she answered testily. “We’re being shot at. They’ve struck our outer sails and they may soon have more success. I have a plan, but…” She paused, drawing a deep breath, collecting herself. “There may be casualties, if we start receiving fire. You’ll have to do something about Strambli’s body, if you’re to have a clear operating area in the Kindness Room.”
“As it happens, Strambli’s body is what I was coming to speak to you about.”
She did not need this. “You and Merrix will just have to put it somewhere for the time being. I know you’d rather study her than move her, but…”
“Her body has already gone,” Eddralder said. “The trouble is, we didn’t move it.”
“Please explain.”
“I wish I could.” He looked at her with his large pale eyes, communicating the full intent of his words, making sure she understood exactly what had happened. “Merrix and I left the Kindness Room unattended while you called us to the control room. When we returned, the body was gone.”
“There must be a mistake. The Ghostie transformation’s obviously advanced to the point where you’re just not seeing her, even though she’s still present. That’s how it works with Ghostie gubbins. The armour, the weapons… if you try too hard to see them, they slip out of your conscious focus.”
“Merrix and I know an empty bed when we see one, Captain. It’s not a question of looking too hard. The body isn’t there.”
“So who moved it?”
“Nobody. Surt is in the sighting room, Tindouf and Ruther were with us in the control room, and Prozor went outside. She is still outside, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and that’s…” Fura shook her head, trying to clear at least a tiny part of it. “Bodies don’t move, Eddralder. There’s been a mistake.”
