"Hurley!" The voice came from overhead, "Is that you, man?"
"Bags!" shouted Brummond joyfully. "Good old Bags! Drop us the ladder! We're having a spot of bother down here."
"It's there! In the middle of the roof!"
"Now, you go and hoist up your lady love quick as you can while I hold the door." Brummond spoke as calmly as if he were ordering port in the Ares Club. "Maybe Bags can give you a hand."
Paul hurried back to the Vonari woman and carried her to the ladder, then slowly began to make his way up, rung by painful rung, struggling to keep her swaying weight from overbalancing him.
"I can't hold them much longer," Brummond called. "Bags—cast off!"
"Not without you. Hurley!"
"I'm coming, damn it! Just cast off!"
As Paul clung to the ladder, less than two dozen feet above the rooftop, he felt the airship begin to rise. The bottom of the ladder lifted free. Brummond gave the door one last kick, then turned and sprinted toward the fast-rising ladder even as the door burst open and several angry Onyx Guardsmen spilled out. The airship had pulled the ladder up so high that Paul felt his heart sulk—they had doomed Brummond, who, madman though he might be, had risked his life for Paul's sake. But Hurley Brummond took two great bouncing steps and leaped, higher than Paul could have believed possible, and caught the ladder's bottom rung in his hands. Grinning, he dangled at arm's length as the airship swept upward and the Soombar's enraged guardsmen grew ever smaller below.
"Well, old fellow," he called up to Paul, "that was an exciting evening, what?"
The mysterious woman lay sleeping on the bed in the captain's cabin; even folded, her diaphanous wings almost touched the walls.
"Come along, Mister Jonas." Professor Bagwalter patted him on the shoulder. "You could use some tending yourself—you've eaten nothing since you've been with us."
Paul had sat by her for most of the night, reluctant to leave for fear she should wake up in a strange place and be frightened, but whatever drugs the priests had given her were powerful, and it seemed certain now that she would sleep until they reached the expedition camp. He followed Bagwalter to the airship's small kitchen where the professor made him a meal of cold meat, cheese, and bread. He took it to be polite, although he did not feel hungry, then wandered up to the helm where Brummond was relating their adventures to Gally for what was doubtless the third or fourth time. Still, it was a tale worth telling more than once, and Paul had to admit to himself that Brummond did not exaggerate his own deeds.
"And how is your lady love?" Brummond interrupted the battle against the vormargs to inquire. Upon being assured that she still slept, he was quickly at sword-blows again. Paul moved down the deck, wanting quiet. He stood at the rail and moodily pushed the food around on his plate, watching the two moons, neither of them quite symmetrical, as they edged slowly across the sky above the speeding ship.
"She's a lovely craft, isn't she?" asked the professor, joining him at the rail. "I'm glad we didn't damage her. Brummond may have been the one who borrowed her, but I would have wound up explaining things to the owner. That's the way it always works." He smiled.
"Have you traveled with him a long time?"
"Off and on for many years. He's a good egg, and if you want adventure—well, there's no one like Hurley Brummond."
"I'm sure of that." Paul looked over the railing. The dark line of the Great Canal meandered back and forth beneath them, glinting here and there with the scattered lamps of settlements, and sometimes, when they passed over one of the larger cities, set aglimmer by an entire jewel box of sparkling lights.
"That's Al-Grashin, down there," Bagwalter said as they flew over an immense expanse of dwellings. Even at their great altitude, it was taking a long time to cross. "The center of the turtuk-ivory trade. Brummond and I were kidnapped by bandits there once. Magnificent city, second only to Tuktubim. Well, there's Noalva, too. They may have more people, but I've always found Noalva a little grim."
Paul shook his head in bemused wonderment. People knew so many things—there were so many things to know!—yet despite the moment of recollection in the Soombar's palace, he knew almost nothing. He was alone. He had no home—he could not remember if he had ever had one.
Paul closed his eyes. The stars in their teeming numbers across the black sky had seemed to mock his hopeless solitude. He gripped the railing hard in his frustration, and for a moment felt a temptation simply to tumble himself over the side, to resolve all his confusions in one dark plunge.
But the woman—she'll tell me something. Her gaze, her dark, somber gaze, had seemed like a kind of refuge. . . .
"You appear to be troubled, old man," said Bagwalter.
Startled, Paul opened his eyes to find the other man standing beside him. "It's . . . it's only that I wish I could remember."
"Ah." The professor was again eyeing him in that disconcertingly shrewd way of his. "Your head wound. Perhaps when we reach camp you will allow me to examine you. I have had some medical training, and even some experience as an alienist."
"If you think that might help." Paul was not entirely comfortable with the idea, but did not wish to be rude to someone who had given him so much assistance.
"In fact, there were some questions I was hoping to ask you. If you don't mind, that is. You see, I have been . . . well, I must confess, rather struck by your situation. I hope it does not seem rude, but you do not seem to belong here."
Paul looked up, struck by an obscure but insistent sense of alarm. The professor seemed very intent. "Belong here? I don't know that I belong anywhere."
"That is not what I mean. I express myself badly."
Before Bagwalter could try again, a shining something streaked past their heads, then was followed quickly by three. The things, which glowed with their own light and seemed almost shapeless, pivoted in midair and flew alongside the airship, pacing the vessel at great speed.
"What are those?"
"I don't know." Bagwalter polished his spectacles and replaced them, then squinted at the streaking smears of light which rolled and tumbled along through the air like dolphins in the wake of a sea-ship."They are no creature or phenomenon I have seen on Mars."
"Ho!" shouted Brummond from the helm, "we are being taunted by some sort of otherworldly fireflies. Someone fetch me my rifle!"
"Oh, dear," sighed Professor Bagwalter. "You can see that Science has a difficult time with Hurley around."
The strange glowing objects followed me airship for almost an hour, then vanished as abruptly and inexplicably as they had arrived. By the time they had gone, Bagwalter appeared to have forgotten the questions he wished to ask. Paul was not displeased.
Dawn was smoldering along the horizon as the ship at last began to descend. It had been a long time since they had passed the last large settlement, and Paul could see no sign of humanoid life whatever in this barren section of the red desert. Gally, who had been sleeping in Paul's lap, woke up and clambered to the rail.
The airship banked, running parallel to a long wall of wind-carved hills. It slowed to ease through a pass, then began to sink at an even more deliberate pace. For the first time, Paul could make out details of the landscape, odd yellow trees with spiky branches and fluffy purplish plants like tall plumes of smoke.
"Look!" Gally pointed. "That must be the camp!"
A small circle of tents, perhaps half a dozen altogether, huddled at the bottom of the valley beside a dry gulley. Tethered beside them was another airship, even larger than the one in which they flew.
"That's my Temperance!" Brummond shouted from the helm. "The finest ship on Ullamar."
A group of nimbors digging in the center of the gulley looked up at the airship's approach. One of them went running back toward the tents.
Brummond brought the airship down beside The Temperance with expert smoothness, halting it just slightly more than a man's height from the ground, then letting it settle as softly as goosedown. He vaulted from the capta
in's deck and over the railing, kicking up a puff of red dust, then dashed off toward the tents. Paul, Bagwalter, and Gally clambered down a little more slowly.
The nimbors had ceased their digging, and now clustered around the new arrivals, tools still in their hands. Their glances were furtive and fleeting; their mouths sagged open, as though they could not get enough air to breathe. They were obviously curious, but it seemed a curiosity born of boredom rather than any real interest, Paul thought they looked much more bestial than Klooroo and his Fisher People neighbors.
"And here they are!" Brummond's voice rang from the crimson stones. He had appeared from one of the larger tents, his arm around a tall, handsome woman in a crisp white blouse and long skirt. Even the sun-helmet on her head seemed quite formal and stylish. "This is Joanna, my fiancée—and Bags' daughter, of course. The only really clever thing he's ever done."
"Welcome to our camp." Joanna smiled at Paul and shook his hand. Her eyes lit on Gally, "Oh! And this must be the moppet. But you're not a child at all—you're almost grown! What a pleasure it is to meet you, young master. I think I have some gingersnaps in my breadbox, but we should make certain." Gally positively glowed as she turned back to Paul. "But first we must see to your fiancée, for I hear she has been terribly treated by the Soombar's priests."
Paul did not bother to argue over the word "fiancée": if Joanna was anything like her intended, it would be useless. "Yes. I was hoping Hurley would help me carry her down."
"Of course he will. Meanwhile, I will set out some morning tea on the porch—we call it a porch, but of course it is really only a sort of cloth roof beside the tent to keep off this scorching Martian sun." She smiled at him again, then took a step forward to kiss Professor Bagwalter on the cheek. "And I have not even said a word to you, Father dear! How dreadful of me! I trust you haven't done yourself any injuries while you and Hurley have been off gallivanting."
Joanna ran the camp with almost terrifying efficiency. Within a few minutes of their arrival she had established the Vonari woman in a bed in one of the tents, made sure everyone had water and a place to wash, then introduced Paul and Gally to two other members of the expedition, a taltor named Xaaro who seemed to be a cartographer, and a fat little human named Crumley who was the foreman of the nimbor work gang. She then led Gally off to the kitchen to help her prepare breakfast.
His other responsibility removed, Paul returned to the winged woman's side. He sat on the tent floor beside her mattress and marveled afresh at the powerful effect her presence had on him.
Her eyes fluttered. He felt an answering flutter inside his chest. A moment later her lids slowly drew back. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, expressionless, then her face registered alarm and she tried to sit up.
"You're safe." Paul moved closer and laid his hand on her wrist, marveling at the cool silkiness of her azure flesh. "You've been rescued from the priests."
She turned her huge eyes on him, wary as a caged animal. "You. I saw you on the island."
Her voice struck the same resonant chord as did everything else about her. For a moment Paul grew dizzy. He knew her—he did! There could be no other explanation. "Yes," he said when he could find the breath. He found it hard to speak. "Yes, I saw you there. I know you, but something has happened to my memory. Who are you? Do you know me?"
She stared at him for a long time without speaking. "I cannot say. Something about you. . . ." She shook her head, and for the first time the wariness faded, replaced by something more uncertain. "I am Vaala of Twelve Rivers House. But how could I have seen you before that moment on the island? Have you been to Vonar, my home? For I never left that place until I was chosen to be the Soombar's Gift."
"I don't know. Damn it, I don't know anything!" Paul slapped at his knee in frustration. The sudden sound caused Vaala to flinch, her wings spread, rustling as they brushed against the tent walls. "All I know is my name, Paul Jonas. I don't know where I've been or where I come from. I hoped you could tell me."
She fixed him with her black eyes. "Pauljonas. The name is strange to my ears, but I feel something when I hear you speak it." She furled her wings and slid back down into the bed. "But it hurts my head to think. I am tired."
"Sleep, then." He reached out and took her cool hand in his. She did not resist. "I'll stay with you. You're safe, now, in any case."
She shook her head slowly, like a tired child. "No, I am not. But I cannot tell you why that is." She yawned. "How full of odd ideas we both are, Pauljonas!" The dark eyes closed. "Could it be. . . ." she said, her speech beginning to stumble, "I think I remember . . . a place with many leaves, with trees and plants. But it is like an old dream."
Paul could see it, too. His pulse quickened. "Yes?"
"That is all. I do not know what it means. Perhaps it is a place I saw when I was a child. Perhaps we knew each other when we were children. . . ."
Her breathing grew slower. Within moments she was asleep again. Paul did not let go of her hand until Joanna came and dragged him to breakfast.
He was on his way back to Vaala's side, a mug of tea and a plate of buttered scones clutched precariously in his hands, when he was intercepted by Professor Bagwalter.
"Ah, there you are. I was hoping to catch you alone—didn't seem like breakfast table conversation, if you know what I mean."
"What's that?"
Bagwalter removed and nervously polished his spectacles. "I've been wanting to ask you a question. It's . . . well, I suppose it could be considered rather rude."
Paul was very conscious of the hot Martian sun. Drops of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "Go on," he said at last.
"I was wondering. . . ." Bagwalter was obviously uncomfortable. "Oh, dash it, there's no polite way to say it. Are you a Citizen?"
Paul was taken by surprise. He did not know what he had been fearing, but it was not this. "I don't know what you mean."
"A Citizen. Are you a Citizen or a Puppet?" Bagwalter's voice was a harsh whisper, as though he were being forced to repeat an overheard obscenity.
"I . . . I don't know what I am. I don't know what those words mean. Citizen? Of where?"
The professor stared at him intently, then took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped his brow. "Perhaps it is not required to tell here. I must confess that I have never asked anyone before. Or perhaps my English is not as good as I believed it was and I have not made myself understood." He looked around.
The taltor Xaaro was walking toward them, but was still far away. "I am privileged to be a guest of Mister Jiun Bhao, a very important person—the most powerful man in the New China Enterprise. Perhaps you have heard of him? He is a good friend and associate of Mister Jongleur, whose creation this is, and so I have been permitted to come here."
Paul shook his head. It was all gibberish, or almost all: the last name had a faint resonance, like an arcane word from I nursery rhyme unheard since childhood.
The professor, who had been watching him carefully, clucked his tongue in sad resignation. "I thought . . . because you did not seem to fit here . . . I meant no offense, but there are so few other Citizens. One or two I have met in the Ares Club, but they are mostly out having adventures. Also, I feared that secretly they were laughing at my English. It is not surprising, perhaps—I was quite fluent once, but I have not used it since my university days at Norwich. In any case, I hoped to have someone real to talk to. I have been in this simulation for a month, and it is sometimes lonely."
Paul took a step backward, baffled and more than a little frightened. The professor was spouting incomprehensibilities, but some of them seemed as though they should mean something to him.
"Professor!" The cartographer had almost reached them. His jade-tinged skin was shiny with perspiration. He did not look as well suited to the climate as the nimbor laborers. "Gracious sir, forgive my interruption, but you are wanted for a conversation on the radiophonic device."
Bagwalter turned, his impatience obvious. "For God's
sake, what is it? Who would be calling?"
"It is the Tellari Embassy in Tuktubim."
The professor turned back to Paul. "I'd better take care of this. Listen, old man, if I've said something offensive, it was unintentional. Please put the whole thing out of your mind." He tried to hold Paul's gaze as if searching for something, his expression almost yearning. For a moment, Paul thought he could sense a very different face looking out from behind the mask of the phlegmatic Englishman.
Troubled, Paul watched Bagwalter head back toward the main circle of tents.
Vaala was awake and sitting up in bed when he arrived, her wings partially unfurled. There was something both confusing and gloriously appropriate about the great feathered sweeps that extended on either side of her, but Paul was already full-fed with half-memories. As he told her the complete story of her rescue from the Soombar's palace, he gave her the tea, which was finally cool enough to drink. She took it in both hands and lifted it to her mouth for a tentative sip.
"It's good." She smiled. Her look of pleasure made his insides ache. "Strange, but I like it. Is it an Ullamari drink?"
"I think so." He sat down on the tent floor, his back against the stiff canvas. "There are a lot of things I don't remember, of course. So much that I don't know where to start thinking, sometimes."
She gave him a long, serious look. "You should not have taken me from the priests, you know. They will be angry. In any case, they will only choose another daughter of Vonar for the sacrifice."
"I don't care. That may sound terrible, but it's true. I have nothing but you, Vaala. Can you understand that? You are my only hope of finding out who I am, where I come from."
"But how can that be?" Her wings lifted and extended, then folded behind her once more. "Before I came here for festival Season, I never left my world, and in all my life I have only met a few of you Tellari. I would remember you, surely."