“I just had an idea,” said Scriber. That wasn’t unusual in a close crowd, but this was a very interesting idea…. He said nothing more for several minutes. The side street climbed steeply, then jinked back and forth across Castle Hill. The upslope side was lined with burghers’ homes. On the harbor side, they were looking out over the steep tile roofs of houses on the next switchback down. These were large homes, elegant with rosemaling. Only a few had shops on the street.
Note 570
Scriber slowed down and spread out enough that he wasn’t stepping on himself. He saw now that he’d been quite wrong in trying to contribute creative expertise to Johanna. There was simply too much invention in Dataset. But they still needed him, Johanna most of all. The problem was, they didn’t know it yet. Finally he said to Peregrine, “Haven’t you wondered that the Flenserists haven’t attacked the city? You and I embarrassed the Lords of Hidden Island more than ever in their history. We hold the keys to their total defeat.”Johanna and Dataset.
Peregrine hesitated. “Hmm. I assumed their army wasn’t up to it. I should think if they were, they’d have knocked over Woodcarvers long before.”
“Perhaps, but at great cost. Now the cost is worth it.” He gave Peregrine a serious look. “No, I think there’s another reason…. They have the flying house, but they have no idea how to use it. They want Johanna back alive — almost as much as they want to kill all of us.”
Note 571
Peregrine made a bitter sound. “If Steel hadn’t been so eager to massacre everything on two legs, he could have had all sorts of help.”
“True, and the Flenserists must know that. I’ll bet they’ve always had spies among the townspeople here, but now more than ever. Did you see all the East Home packs?” East Home was a hotbed of Flenser sentiment. Even before the Movement, they had been a hard folk, routinely sacrificing pups that didn’t meet their brood standards.
“One anyway. Talking to a labormaster.”
“Right. Who knows what’s coming in disguised as special purpose packs? I’d bet my life they’re planning to kidnap Johanna. If they guess what we’re planning with her, they may just try to kill her. Don’t you see? We must alert Woodcarver and Vendacious, organize the people to watch for spies.”
“You noticed all this on one walk through Packweal?” There was wonder or disbelief in his voice, Scriber couldn’t tell which.
“Well, um, no. The inspiration wasn’t anything so direct. But it stands to reason, don’t you think?”
They walked in silence for several minutes. Up here the wind was stronger, and the view more spectacular. Where there wasn’t the sea, forest spread endless gray and green. Everything was very peaceful … because this was a game of stealth. Fortunately Scriber had a talent for such games. After all, hadn’t it been the very Political Police of the Republic who commissioned him to survey Hidden Island? It had taken him several tendays of patient persuasion, but in the end they had been enthusiastic. Anything you can discover we would be most happy to review. Those were their exact words.
Note 572
Peregrine waffled around the road, seemingly very taken aback by Scriber’s suggestion. Finally he said, “I think there is … something you should know, something that must remain an absolute secret.”
Note 573
“Upon my soul! Peregrine, I do not blab secrets.” Scriber was a little hurt — at the lack of trust, and also that the other might have discovered something he had not. The second should not bother him. He had guessed that Peregrine and Woodcarver were into each other. No telling what she might have confided, or what might have leaked across.
“Okay…. You’ve tripped onto something that should not be noised about. You know Vendacious is in charge of Woodcarvers security?”
“Of course.” That was implicit in the office of Lord Chamberlain. “And considering the number of outsiders wandering around, I can’t say he’s doing a very good job.”
“In fact, he’s doing a marvelously effective job. Vendacious has agents right at the top at Hidden Island — one step removed from Lord Steel himself.”
Scriber felt his eyes widening.
“Yes, you understand what that means. Through Vendacious, Woodcarver knows for a certainty everything their high council plans. With clever misinformation, we can lead the Flenserists around like froghens at a thinning. Next to Johanna herself, this may be Woodcarver’s greatest advantage.”
“I—”I had no idea.“So the incompetent local security is just a cover.”
Note 574
“Not exactly. It’s supposed to look solid and intelligent, but with just enough exploitable weakness so the Movement will postpone a frontal attack in favor of espionage.” He smiled. “I think Vendacious will be very taken aback to hear your critique.”
Scriber gave a weak laugh. He was flattered and boggled at the same time. Vendacious must count as the greatest spymaster of the age — yet he, Scriber Jaqueramaphan, had almost seen through him. Scriber was mostly quiet the rest of the way back to the castle, but his mind was racing. Peregrine was more right than he knew; secrecy was vital. Unnecessary discussion — even between old friends — must be avoided. Yes! He would offer his services to Vendacious. His new role might keep him in the background, but it was where he could make the greatest contribution. And eventually even Johanna would see how helpful he could be.
* * *
Note 575
Down the well of the night. Even when Ravna wasn’t looking out the windows, that was the image in her mind. Relay was far off the galactic disk. The OOB was descending toward that disk — and ever deeper into slowness.
Note 576
But they had escaped. The OOB was crippled, but they had left Relay at almost fifty light-years per hour. Each hour they were lower in the Beyond and the computation time for the microjumps increased, and their pseudovelocity declined. Nevertheless, they were making progress. They were deep into the Middle of the Beyond now. And there was no sign of pursuit, thank goodness. Whatever had brought the Blight to Relay, it had not been specific knowledge of the OOB.
Note 577
Hope. Ravna felt it growing in her. The ship’s medical automation claimed that Pham Nuwen could be saved, that there was brain activity. The terrible wounds in his back had been Old One’s implants, organic machinery that had made Pham close-linked to Relay’s local network — and thence to the Power above. And when that Power died somehow the gear in Pham became a putrescent ruin. So Pham the person should still exist. Pray he still exists. The surgeon thought it would be three days before his back was healed enough to attempt resuscitation.
Note 578
In the meantime…. Ravna was learning more about the apocalypse that had swept over her. Every twenty hours, Greenstalk and Blueshell jigged the ship sideways a few light-years, into some major trunk line of the Known Net to soak up the News. It was a common practice on any voyage of more than a few days; an easy way for merchants and travelers to keep track of events that might affect their success at voyage’s end.
Note 579
According to the News (that is, according to the vast majority of the opinions expressed), the fall of Relay was complete. Oh, Grondr. Oh Egravan and Sarale. Are you dead or owned now?
Parts of the Known Net were temporarily out of contact; some of the extra-galactic links might not be replaced for years. For the first time in millennia, a Power was known to have been murdered. There were tens of thousands of claims about the motive for the attack and tens of thousands of predictions about what would happen next. Ravna had the ship filter the avalanche, trying to distill the essence of the speculations.
The one coming from Straumli Realm itself made as much sense as any: the Perversion’s thralls gloated solemnly about the new era, the marriage of a Transcendent being with races of the Beyond. If Relay could be destroyed — if a Power could be murdered — then nothing could stop the spread of victory.
Note 580
Some senders thought that Re
lay was the ancestral target of whatever had perverted Straumli Realm. Maybe the attack was just the tail end of some long ago war, a misbegotten tragedy for the descendents of forgotten races. If so, then the thralls at Straumli Realm might just wither away and the original human culture there reappear.
Note 581
A number of items suggested that the attack had been aimed at stealing Relay’s archives, but only one or two claimed that the Blight sought to recover an artifact, or prevent the Relayers from recovering one. Those assertions came from chronic theorizers, the sort of civilizations that get surcharged by newsgroup automation. Nevertheless, Ravna looked through those messages carefully. None of them suggested an artifact in the Low Beyond; if anything, they claimed the Blight was searching for something in the High Beyond or Low Transcend.
Note 582
There was network traffic coming out of the Blight. The high protocol messages were ignored by all but the suicidal, and no one was getting paid to forward any of it. Yet horror and curiosity spread some of the messages far. There was the Blighter “video”: almost four hundred seconds of pan-sensual data with no compression. That incredibly expensive message might be the most-forwarded hog in all Net history. Blueshell held the OOB on the trunk path for nearly two days to receive the whole thing.
Note 583
The Perversion’s thralls all appeared to be human. About half the news items coming out of the Realm were video evocations, though none this long; all showed human speakers. Ravna watched the big one again and again: She even recognized the speaker. Øvn Nilsndot had been Straumli Realm’s champion trael runner. He had no title now, and probably no name. Nilsndot spoke from an office that might have been a garden. If Ravna stepped to the side of the image, she could see over his shoulder to ground level. The city there looked like the Straumli Main of record. Years ago, Ravna and her sister had dreamed about that city, the heart of mankind’s adventure into the Transcend. The central square had been a replica of the Field of Princesses on Nyjora, and the immigration advertising claimed that no matter how far the Straumers went, the fountain in the Field would always flow, would always show their loyalty to humankind’s beginnings.
There was no fountain now, and Ravna felt deadness behind Nilsndot’s gaze. “This one speaks as the Power that Helps,” said the erstwhile hero. “I want all to see what I can do for even a third- rate civilization. Look upon my Helping….” The viewpoint swung skywards. It was sunset, and the ranked agrav structures hung against the light, megameter upon megameter. It was a more grandiose use of the agrav material than Ravna had ever seen, even on the Docks. Certainly no world in the Middle Beyond could ever afford to import the material in such quantities. “What you see above me is just the work barracks for the construction that I will soon begin in the Straumli system. When complete, five star systems will be a single habitat, their planets and excess stellar mass distributed to support life and technology as never before seen at these depths — and as rarely seen in the Transcend itself.” The view returned to Nilsndot, a single human, mouthpiece for a god. “Some of you may rebel against idea of dedicating yourselves to me. In the long run it does not matter. The symbiosis of my Power with the hands of races in the Beyond is more than any can resist. But I speak now to diminish your fear. What you see in Straumli Realm is as much a joy as a wonder. Never again will races in the Beyond be left behind by transcendence. Those who join me — and all will join eventually — will be part of the Power. You will have access to imports from across the Top and Lower Transcend. You will reproduce beyond the limits your own technology could sustain. You will absorb all that oppose me. You will bring the new stability.”
The third or fourth time she watched the item, Ravna tried to ignore the words, concentrate on Nilsndot’s expression, comparing it to speeches she had in her personal dataset. There was a difference; it wasn’t her imagination. The creature she watched was soul-dead. Somehow, the Blight didn’t care that that was obvious … maybe it wasn’t obvious except to human viewers, and they were a vanishingly small fraction of the audience. The viewpoint closed in on Nilsndot’s ordinary dark face, his ordinary violet eyes:
Note 584
Note 585
“Some of you may wonder how all this is possible, and why billions of years of anarchy have passed without such help from a Power. The answer is … complex. Like many sensible developments, this one has a high threshold. On one side of that threshold, the development appears impossibly unlikely; on the other, inevitable. The symbiosis of the Helping depends on efficient, high-bandwidth communication between myself and the beings I Help. Creatures such as the one now speaking my words must respond as quickly and faithfully as a hand or a mouth. Their eyes and ears must report across light- years. This has been hard to achieve — especially since the system must essentially be in place before it can function. But, now that the symbiosis exists, progress will come much faster. Almost any race can be modified to receive Help.”
Almost any race can be modified. The words came from a familiar face, and in Ravna’s birth language … but the origin was monstrously far away.
Note 586
There was plenty of analysis. A whole news group had been formed: Threat of the Blight was spawned from Threats Group, Homo Sapiens Interest Group, and Close-Coupled Automation. These days it was busier than any five other groups. In this part of the galaxy, a significant fraction of all message traffic belonged to the new group. More bits were sent analyzing poor Øvn Nilsndot’s mouthing than had been in the original. Judging from the flames and contradictions, the signal-to-noise ratio was very low:
Note 587
Note 588
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Note 589
Language path: Acquileron->Triskweline, SjK units
From: Khurvark University [Claimed to be habitat-based university in the Middle Beyond]
Subject: Blighter Video
Summary: The message shows fraud
Distribution:
War Trackers Interest Group
Where are they now Interest Group
Threat of the Blight
Date: 7.06 days since Fall of Relay
Note 590
Text of message:
It’s obvious that this “Helper” is a fraud. We’ve researched the matter carefully. Though he is not named, the speaker is a high official in the former Straumli regime. Now why — if the “Helper” simply runs the humans as teleoperated robots — why is the earlier social structure preserved? The answer should be clear to any idiot: The Helper does not have the power to teleoperate large numbers of sentients. Evidently, the Fall of Straumli Realm consisted of taking over key elements in that civilization’s power structure. It’s business as usual for the rest of the race. Our conclusion: this Helper Symbiosis is just another messianic religion, another screwball empire excusing its excesses and attempting to trick those it cannot directly coerce. Don’t be fooled!
Note 591
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Note 592
Language path: Optima->Acquileron->Triskweline, SjK units
Note 593
From: Society for Rational Investigation [Probably a single system in Middle Beyond, 5700 light-years antispinward of Sjandra Kei]
Note 594
Subject: Blighter Video thread, Khurvark University 1
Key phrases: [Probable obscenity] waste of our valuable time
Distribution:
Society for Rational Network Management
Threat of the Blight
Date: 7.91 days since Fall of Relay
Note 595
Text of message:
Note 596
Who is a fool? [probable obscenity] [probable obscenity] Idiots who don’t follow all the threads in developing news should not waste my precious ears with their [clear obscenity] garbage. So you think the “Help
er Symbiosis” is a fraud of Straumli Realm? And what do you think caused the fall of Relay? In case your head is totally stuck up your rear [ <— probable insult], there was a Power allied with Relay. That Power is now dead. You think maybe it just committed suicide? Look it up, Flat Head [ <— probable insult]. No Power has ever fallen to anything from the Beyond. The Blight is something new and interesting. I think it’s time that [obscenity] jerks like Khurvark University stick to the noise groups, and let the rest of us have some intelligent discussion.
And some messages were patent nonsense. One thing about the Net: the multiple, automatic translations often disguised the fundamental alienness of participants. Behind the chatty, colloquial postings, there were faraway realms, so misted by distance and difference that communication was impossible — even though it might take a while to realize the fact. For instance:
Note 597
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Note 598
Language path: Arbwyth->Trade24->Cherguelen->Triskweline, SjK units
From: Twirlip of the Mists [Perhaps an organization of cloud fliers in a single jovian system. Very sparse priors.]
Subject: Blighter Video thread
Key phrases: Hexapodia as the key insight
Distribution:
Threat of the Blight
Date: 8.68 days since Fall of Relay
Note 599
Text of message:
Note 600
I haven’t had a chance to see the famous video from Straumli Realm, except as an evocation. (My only gateway onto the Net is very expensive.) Is it true that humans have six legs? I wasn’t sure from the evocation. If these humans have three pairs of legs, then I think there is an easy explanation for —
Hexapodia? Six legs? Three pairs of legs? Probably none of these translations was close to what the bewildered creature of Twirlip had in its mind. Ravna didn’t read any more of that posting.
Note 601
Note 602
Note 603
Crypto: 0
Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc