R.W. IV - The Magic Labyrinth
"What about you?"
"I see no reason to change my faith. I never thought that the people responsible for this world were angels or demons. There are, though, many puzzling things about the two stories I've heard. What intrigues me the most, and also upsets me the most, is the mystery of what happened to the nonhuman on Clemens' boat, Monat I think was his name."
Burton said, "What? I haven't heard about that!"
Göring described what Miller had told him, and added, "And you say that his companion, the man called Frigate, also disappeared?"
"That Peter Jairus Frigate was an agent," Burton said. "He wasn't an exact double of the Frigate you talked to, but he resembled him closely. He may have been Frigate's brother."
"Perhaps when – or if – you get into the tower, you'll find out," Göring said.
"I'll find out sooner than that if I catch up with those agents in the launch," Burton said grimly.
After some more discussion, Burton left Göring. He had not told the German what the news about Monat and the pseudo-Frigate meant. The Ethical X, the Mysterious Stranger, the renegade, had been on the Not For Hire. And he had gotten rid of Monat about eight hours after they'd boarded the vessel. Why? Because Monat would recognize him. He would have been in disguise, but Monat would have known him sooner or later. Probably sooner. So he'd had to work fast, and he had done so. How, Burton didn't know.
X had been on Clemens' boat.
"Had he lived through the battle? If he had, then he was among the few survivors of the Not For Hire now in this immediate area.
Perhaps. He might have left at once and gone up-River or he might have gotten to the other bank.
Burton went back after Göring and asked him if he'd heard about any survivors on the other side of the lake or any who'd gone through on the cliffpath above the strait.
"No," Göring said. "If there had been any, they'd have been reported."
Burton tried not to show his excitement.
Göring, however, said, smiling, "You think that X is here, don't you? At hand but in disguise?"
"You're deucedly clever," Burton said. "Yes, I do, unless he's been killed. Strubewell and Podebrad were agents, I don't mind telling you that now, and they were killed. So perhaps X was also."
"Did anyone see Strubewell and Podebrad die?" Göring said. "I know Joe Miller thinks Strubewell was dead because he didn't see him get out of the pilothouse after it fell. But Strubewell could have gotten out later on. All we know about Podebrad is that he was seen no more after the vessels collided."
"I wish they were available," Burton said. "I'd get the truth out of them somehow. I believe, however, that they died. That you citizens haven't seen them goes a long way to prove that. As for X, well . . ."
He said so-long to Göring and walked to the partly burned dock at which the Bills was tied up. It looked like a monstrous black turtle. Its high rounded hull was the shell, and the long narrow prow was part of the head sticking out. The barrel of the steam machine gun projecting from the extreme front of the prow was the turtle's tongue; the steam gun poking out from the stern, the turtle's tail.
Burton had been told by one of its crew that it carried a large batacitor and could hold fifteen people comfortably and twenty with some inconvenience. It could go thirty-five miles per hour against a ten-mile per hour current and a ten-mile per hour wind. It had an armory of fifteen rifles and fifteen pistols using gunpowder-filled cartridges and ten compressed air rifles and many other weapons.
Joe Miller, his enormous arm in a plaster cast, several of the crew and some survivors of the Not For Hire were standing on the dock. Having had the new captain of the Bills described to him, Burton had no difficulty picking him out. Kimon was a short burly dark man with intense hazel eyes, an ancient Greek whose life Burton had studied in school and afterward. He's been a great general, naval commander, and statesman, one of the main builders of the Athenian empire after the Persian wars. He was born in 505 B.C., if Burton remembered correctly.
Kimon was a conservative who had favored alliance with Sparta and so ran counter to the policies of Pericles. His father was the famous Miltiades, the victor of the battle of Marathon, in which the Greeks turned back the hordes of Xerxes. Kimon served during the naval battle of Salamis in which the Athenians sank two hundred enemy vessels with a loss of only forty and forever broke the Persian naval power.
In 475 Kimon drove out the pirates of Skyros and then located and brought to Athens the bones of Theseus, the legendary founder of the Attic state and killer of the Minotaur of the labyrinth of Knossos. Kimon was one of the judges who gave Sophocles first prize for tragedy in the competitions held at Dionysia in 468.
In 450 Kimon led an expedition against Cyprus, where he died during the siege of Kitium. His bones were brought back to Athens and buried there.
He certainly looked alive now and very mean, too. Kimon and a number of Clemensites were arguing loudly. Burton, acting as if he were just another Virolander, stood with those listening in.
Apparently, the argument was about which of Clemens' people would go on up The River and also about seniority. In addition to the eleven crew members of the Bills, ten people from the Not For Hire had survived. Kimon was outranked by three of these, but he was insisting that he was the commander of the launch and anybody who went along on it would be his subordinate. Moreover, he would not allow more than eleven on the voyage, and he thought that the crew of the Bills should be these. But he was willing to take some from the motherboat if some of his crew didn't want to go on.
After a while, Kimon and the others went inside the launch. Nevertheless, their voices came out loudly through the open ports.
The titanthrop had not gone aboard. He stood in one spot, softly talking to himself. His eyes were red, and he looked as if he'd grieved much.
Burton introduced himself.
Joe Miller, speaking in a deep kettledrum voice in English said, "Yeth, I've heard about you, Mithter Burton. Tham told me about you. Vhen did you get here?"
Reluctantly, Burton said, "I was on the Rex."
"Vhat the hell vere you doing on that? You vere vone of the Ekth'th men, veren't you?"
"Yes," Burton said. "But I didn't know until yesterday that some of his recruits were on the Not For Hire. Though, to tell the truth, I suspected that some would be."
"Who told you?"
"Cyrano de Bergerac."
Joe brightened. "Thyrano? He'th alive? I thought he died! Vhere ith he?"
"No, he was killed. But he recognized me, and he told me that Clemens and he had also been visited by the Ethical."
Burton thought it would be better not to tell Miller that it was his woman who'd slain de Bergerac.
The titanthrop looked as if he were struggling with himself. Then he stopped shaking, and he smiled slightly. His giant hand shot out.
"Here. Thyake. I don't hold it againtht you. Ve vath all thtupid. Ath Tham uthed to thay, it'th the fortuneth of var."
Burton's hand was enfolded, squeezed, not too hard, and then released. Burton said, "I don't think we should talk here. Too many people around. You come with me, and I'll introduce you to two who also know about the Ethical."
They went to the foothill behind the temple. Here Alice and others were building huts. Burton called her, Frigate, Nur, and Aphra Behn to one side. After introducing Miller, Burton asked him to tell everything relevant he knew about X and those who'd been recruited by him. It was a long tale, interrupted by many questions, and it was not finished until long after supper. Since the huts were not completed, the five slept on the portico of the temple under piles of cloths. After breakfast, they returned to their building. By late afternoon they had two huts finished. Miller went down to the launch for a while to check on what was going on. When he returned, Burton told his story. That had to be stopped for the funeral of the casualties whose bodies had not sunk. These, which had been preserved in alcohol until the ceremony, were laid out on wooden biers. Miller wept over Sam
Clemens and his cabinmate, a huge redheaded ancient Cimmerian woman. After Burton, representing the Rex, and Kimon, representing the Not For Hire, had spoken a few words about their dead comrades, La Viro gave a short but passionate speech about the uselessness of their deaths. Then the bodies were put on a huge pyre and burned to ashes.
Not until the rains came at about six in the morning were the tales of Burton and his people finished.
"I vathn't going on up," Miller told them. "Vell, actually, I vath going up a little vay. Vhen I found thome of my own people, I vath going to thettle down vith them. Maybe. I'm not tho thyure I'd be happy vith them now. I've theen too much, traveled too much, become too thivilithed to be happy vith them, maybe.
"Anyvay, I'd given up going on to the tower. It didn't theem vorthvhile. But now I've met you, maybe I will go on. If I didn't, it vould make Tham'th death, the thufferingth and the deathth of all thothe people, in vain.
"Bethideth, I vant to find out who Ekth ith. If he'th been tricking uth, me and Tham veren't too thyure he vathn't, I'll tear him apart, thkin by thkin."
"Skin by skin?" Burton said. "What does that mean?"
"It'th chutht a thayirig of my people. Do I have to ekthplain it?"
"How many of your crew also know about X?" Burton said.
"There'th the little Frenchman, Marthelin, altho known as Baron de Marbot. But Tham told him about Ekth. Tham thought he could trutht him. Then there'th that vildaththed Chinethe Tai-Peng, only hith real name ith Li Po. There'th hith black-aththed thidekick, Tom Turpin, he can really tickle the ivorieth. Ekth never recruited Tom, but Tai-Peng blabbed about it to Tom one night vhen he vath drunk, that Thelethtial thyould've died of thirrhothith of the liver yearth ago, tho ve thought ve'd better take him in. He'th a good man, any vay. And then there'th Ely Parker, who vathn't recruited by Ekth either, but Tham knew him on Earth, or of him, and he told him becauthe he vath a good friend of Ulyththeth Eth. Grant and altho a general on Grant'th thtaff during the Thivil Var. He vath an engineer on the Not For Hire. He'th an American Indian, an Iroquois of the Theneca tribe. And then there'th the ancient Thumerian who callth himthelf Gilgameth."
"Gilgamesh?" Burton said.
"That'th vhat I thaid. Tham thaid he may or may not be the king of the Thumerian thity of Uruk who lived thometime in the firtht half of the third millenium B.C. It vathn't very likely ve'd run into anybody who knew the real Gilgameth, though you never know.
"And then there'th the ancient Mayan, Ah Qaaq. He'th awful thtrong, that ith, for a thyort-nothed perthon, he ith."
"Ah Qaaq," Burton said. "That'd be Mayan for fire."
"Yeth. But he ain't no ball of fire. He'th more like a butterball. Fat ath a pig. But he'th very thtrong, ath I thaid. And he can thyoot a bow further than anybody I ever thaw, ekthept mythelf, naturally. Even further than thome Old Thtone Acherth that vath on the boat. He'th got a muthtache tattooed on hith lip that maketh him look like a vildman from Borneo."
"Then Kimon and the other survivors don't know about X and the agents?" Burton said.
"If they did, I vould have thaid tho."
Nur el-Musafir said, "It's possible that some of them may be agents, however."
"I'd like to talk to all of the people you mentioned," Burton said. He paused, then said, "If all of us who know about the Ethical are to go on the Bills, then others will have to step aside. They'll have to give up their berth on the launch. Is there much chance of that?"
"Thyure," the titanthrop said. He looked down his enormous nose at Burton, and he smiled. His teeth were huge dull-white blocks. "Thyure. There'th a chanthe. About ath much ath an ithecube in a bonfire."
"Then," Burton said, "we'll have to seize the launch. Hijack it."
"I thought tho," Miller said. "Vhy ith it that from the beginning ve've had to do tho many unethical thingth to help the Ethical?"
40
* * *
There were eleven in the group. of these, five had been recruited directly by the renegade Ethical. These were Richard Francis Burton, Nur ed-Din el-Musafir, Tai-Peng, Gilgamesh, and Ah Qaaq. At least, they claimed to have been visited by X. Burton, however, could be sure only of himself. One or more might be agents or even Ethicals.
Joe Miller had been told about X by Samuel Clemens. Alice knew about him from Burton. Aphra Behn hadn't been informed until yesterday, but she wanted very much to accompany them on their expedition. De Marbot had heard from Clemens about the Stranger, and he had told Behn about him. Since the Frenchman and the Englishwoman had once been lovers and were again, the others agreed that she could come with them.
Ely Parker, the Seneca, also knew about X from Clemens, and he had wished to go with them. But he'd changed his mind.
"To hell with the Ethicals and the tower and all that," he said to Burton. "I'm going to stay here and try to raise the Not For Hire. It's sunk in only about forty feet of water. Once it's up and repaired, I'll take it down-River. I'm not really interested in dying just to prove something that can't be proved. The Ethicals don't want us sticking our noses in their business. I think that the breakdowns came about because we interfered. Piscator may have screwed things up in the tower. And Podebrad told Sam that the people he left behind in Nova Bohemujo may have been responsible for the failure of the right-bank line. He said that before he left on the blimp some of his officers wanted to dig deep around a grailstone and see if they could tap into it to get a continuous source of power. He warned them not to, and before he took off he got them to promise they wouldn't monkey around with it. He said that what might have happened was that they broke their promise and somehow broke the circuit.
"If that happened, the area around it would've been blown up. There'd be a hole big enough to make a new lake on the right side of The River. The explosion could've wiped out Nova Bohemujo on that side. That's where the mineral deposits were, and if what Podebrad said was true, then that's the end of the mines and the New Bohemians.
"Anyway, I just don't like meddling around with the Ethicals. I'm no coward. Anyone who knows me'll tell you that. But I just don't think it's right to mess around with things we know nothing about."
In addition, Burton thought, you'd like to be captain of the riverboat and live the good and high life.
"You won't get much help from the locals," Burton said.
He gestured at the banks and the stream, which were crowded with people in boats or getting ready to shove off.
"This area will be near-emptied within a month. La Viro is sending almost everybody down-River to restore the faith of the Chancers, to correct deviations from their theology, and to make new converts. The breakdowns have shaken the faith of many."
"Yeah," Parker said, his broad brown face twisted with a sardonic smile. "Yeah. La Viro himself is shaken. I understand he's spending a lot of time on his knees praying. He doesn't look so sure of himself now."
Burton didn't try to argue the Seneca into going on with him. He did wish Parker luck before walking away, though he wasn't going to have any. The Not For Hire was going to stay where it was until the current nudged it off the ledge and it sank to the bottom, three thousand feet down.
When the Post No Bills sank or wore out, its end would be the end of the age of advanced technology on the Riverworld. What few metal tools and weapons existed would wear out. And then the Valleydwellers would be lucky if they had stone artifacts. The entire planet would be in the Wood Age.
The news about Podebrad's story was certainly interesting. Whether or not the Nova Bohemujo had brought about the line breakdown, Podebrad had been an agent or an Ethical. Only one of them could have known where the metal deposits were in that state. Only one of them could have known that trying to tap the power of the line could result in a catastrophe.
But Podebrad, or whatever his real name was, was dead.
Burton wondered if he could have been X.
Hearing a familiar voice hail him, he stopped and turned around. Hermann Göring, thinner than before, and he'd been very th
in, approached him. His broad face was grave, and his eyes were rimmed with the darkness of fatigue.
"Sinjoro Burton! Mi dezirus akompani vin."
"You'd like to go with me? Why?"
"For the same reason that drives you. I want desperately to know what has gone wrong. I've always wanted to know, but I told myself that it was much more important to raise the ethical level of the kas. Now . . . I don't know. Yes, I do! If we are to have faith, we must also have knowledge. I mean . . . faith is the only thing to cling to if you can't know the truth. But now . . . now . . . it may be possible to know!"
"What does La Viro think of this?"
"We've quarreled, something I thought I'd never do. He insists that I go with him down-River. He intends to travel to the mouth of The River, even if it takes him three hundred years, preaching all the way. He wants to restore the faith of the people . . ."
"How does he know that it needs restoring?" Burton said.
"He knows what's been happening downstream for as far as a hundred thousand miles. What's happening there must also be happening elsewhere. Besides, didn't you notice that there's been much doubt, much falling away from the Church, while you were traveling on the boat?"
"I noticed some but didn't think much about it," Burton said. "It's to be expected, you know."
"Yes. Even some of the Virolanders have been troubled, and they have the presence of La Viro himself to strengthen them. However, I believe that the best course is to get into the tower and determine exactly what has happened. That will insure that the Church is right, and when that happens, all of the people will have no doubt and all will come to the Church."
"On the other hand," Burton drawled, "what you find there may blow your religion to bits."
Göring shuddered and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, "Yes, I know. But my faith is so strong that I am willing to chance it."
"My middle name is Francis," Burton said, grinning. "So I'll be frank with you. I don't like you. I never have. You've changed character, true. But I can't forgive what you did to me and my friends. It's a case of forgiving but not forgetting. Though I suppose that fundamentally the two are the same."