Clarke, Arthur C - Fall of Night 02 (19 page)

 
          
 
It was too late for regrets now, but
Alvin
was sorry he had made only a single
duplicate. For the borrowed robot had become insane.

 
          
 
Alvin
met no one on the road to Airlee. It was
strange to sit in the spaceship while his field of vision moved effortlessly
along the familiar path and the whispering of the forest sounded in his ears.
As yet he was unable to identify himself fully with the robot, and the strain
of controlling it was still considerable.

 
          
 
It was nearly dark when he reached Airlee, and
the little houses were floating in pools of light.
Alvin
kept to the shadows and had almost reached
Seranis' home before he was discovered. Suddenly there was an angry,
high-pitched buzzing and his view was blocked by a flurry of wings. He recoiled
involuntarily before the onslaught: then he realized what had happened. Krif
did not approve of anything that flew without wings, and only Theon's presence
had prevented him from attacking the robot on earlier occasions. Not wishing to
hurt the beautiful but stupid creature,
Alvin
brought the robot to a halt and endured as
best he could the blows that seemed to be raining upon him. Though he was
sitting in comfort a mile away, he could not avoid flinching and was glad when
Theon came out to investigate.

 
          
 
At his master's approach Krif departed, still
buzzing balefully. In the silence that followed Theon stood looking at the
robot for a while. Then he smiled.

 
          
 
"I'm glad you've come back. Or are you
still in Diaspar?"

 
          
 
Not for the first time
Alvin
felt a twinge of envy as he realized how
much quicker Theon's mind was than his own.

 
          
 
"No," he said, wondering as he did
so how clearly the robot echoed his voice. "I'm in Airlee, not very far
away. But I'm staying here for the present."

 
          
 
Theon laughed heartily.

 
          
 
"I think that's just as well," he
said. "Mother's forgiven you, but the Central Council hasn't. There's a
conference going on indoors now: I have to keep out of the way."

 
          
 
"What are they talking about?"

 
          
 
"I'm not supposed to know, but they asked
me all sorts of questions about you. I had to tell them what happened in
Shalmirane."

 
          
 
"That doesn't matter very much,"
replied
Alvin
. "A good many other things have
happened since then. I'd like to have a talk with this Central Council of
yours."

 
          
 
"Oh, the whole Council isn't here,
naturally. But three of its members have been making inquiries ever since you
left."

 
          
 
Alvin
smiled. He could well believe it: wherever
he went now he seemed to be leaving a trail of consternation behind him.

 
          
 
The comfort and security of the spaceship gave
him a confidence he had seldom known before, and he felt complete master of the
situation as he followed Theon into the house. The door of the conference room
was locked and it was some time before Theon could attract attention. Then the
walls slid reluctantly apart, and
Alvin
moved his robot swiftly forward into the
chamber.

 
          
 
The room was the familiar one in which he had
had his last interview with Seranis. Overhead the stars were twinkling as if
there were no ceiling or upper floor, and once again
Alvin
wondered how the illusion was achieved. The
three councillors froze in their seats as he floated toward them, but only the
slightest flicker of surprise crossed Seranis' face.

 
          
 
"Good evening," he said politely, as
if this vicarious entry were the most natural thing in the world. "I've
decided to come back."

 
          
 
Their surprise exceeded his expectations. One
of the councillors, a young man with graying hair, was the first to recover.

 
          
 
"How did you get here?" he gasped.

 
          
 
Alvin thought it wise to evade the question:
the way in which it was asked made him suspicious and he wondered if the
underground transport system had been put out of action.

 
          
 
"Why, just as I did last time," he
lied.

 
          
 
Two of the councillors looked fixedly at the
third,
who
spread his hands in a gesture of baffled
resignation. Then the young man who had addressed him before spoke again.

 
          
 
"Didn't you have any—difficulty?"

 
          
 
"None at all," said Alvin, determined
to increase their confusion. He saw that he had succeeded.

 
          
 
"I've come back," he continued,
"under my own free will, but in view of our previous disagreement I'm
remaining out of sight for the moment. If I appear personally, will you promise
not to try and restrict my movements again?"

 
          
 
No one said anything for a while and Alvin
wondered what thoughts were being exchanged. Fhen Seranis spoke for them all.

 
          
 
"I imagine that there is little purpose
in doing so. Diaspar must know all about us by now."

 
          
 
Alvin flushed slightly at the reproach in her
voice.

 
          
 
"Yes, Diaspar knows," he replied.
"And Diaspar will have nothing to do with you. It wishes to avoid
contamination with an inferior culture."

 
          
 
It was most satisfying to watch the councillors'
reactions, and even Seranis colored slightly at his words. If he could make Lys
and Diaspar sufficiently annoyed with each other, Alvin realized that his
problem would be more than half solved. He was learning, still unconsciously,
the lost art of politics.

 
          
 
"But I don't want to stay out here all
night," he continued. "Have I your promise?"

 
          
 
Seranis sighed, and a faint smile played about
her lips.

 
          
 
"Yes," she said, "We won't
attempt to control you again. Though I don't think we were very successful
before."

 
          
 
Alvin waited until the robot had returned.
Very carefully he gave the machine its instructions and made it repeat them
back. Then he left the ship, and the airlock closed silently behind him.

 
          
 
There was a faint whisper of air but no other
sound. For a moment a dark shadow blotted out the stars: then the ship was
gone. Not until it had vanished did Alvin realize his miscalculation. He had
forgotten that the robot's senses were very different from his own, and the
night was far darker than he had expected. More than once he lost the path
completely, and several times he barely avoided colliding with trees. It was
blackest of all in the forest, and once something quite large came towards him
through the undergrowth. There was the faintest crackling of twigs, and two
emerald eyes were looking steadfastly at him from the level of his waist. He
called softly, and an incredibly long tongue rasped across his hand. A moment
later a powerful body rubbed affectionately against him and departed without a
sound. He had no idea what it could be.

 
          
 
Presently the lights of the village were
shining through the trees ahead, but he no longer needed their guidance, for
the path beneath his feet had now become a river of dim blue fire. The moss
upon which he was walking was luminous and his footprints left dark patches
which slowly disappeared behind him. It was a beautiful and entrancing sight,
and when
Alvin
stooped to pluck some of the strange moss
it glowed for minutes in his cupped hands before its radiance died.

 
          
 
Theon was waiting for him outside the house,
and for the second time he was introduced to the three councillors. He noticed
with some annoyance their barely concealed surprise: not appreciating the
unfair advantages it gave him, he never cared to be reminded of his youth.

 
          
 
They said little while he refreshed himself,
and Alvin wondered what mental notes were being compared. He kept his mind as
empty as he could until he had finished: then he began to talk as he had never
talked before.

 
          
 
His theme was Diaspar. He painted the city as
he had last seen it, dreaming on the breast of the desert, its towers glowing
like captive rainbows against the sky. From the treasure-house of memory he
recalled the songs that the poets of old had written in praise of Diaspar, and
he spoke of the countless men who had burned away their lives to increase its
beauty. No one now, he told them, could ever exhaust a hundredth of the city's
treasures, however long they lived. For a while he described some of the
wonders which the men of Diaspar had wrought: he tried to make them catch a
glimpse at least of the loveliness which such artists as Shervane and Perildor
had created for men's eternal admiration. And he spoke also of Loronei, whose
name he bore, and wondered a little wistfully if it were indeed true that his
music was the last sound Earth had ever broadcast to the stars.

 
          
 
They heard him to the end without interruption
or questioning. When he had finished it was very late and Alvin felt more tired
than he could ever remember. The strain and excitement of the long day had told
on him at last, and quite suddenly he fell asleep.

 
          
 
Alvin was still tired when they left the
village not long after dawn. Early though it was, they were not the first upon
the road. By the lake they overtook the three councillors, and both parties
exchanged slightly self-conscious greetings.
Alvin
knew perfectly well where the Committee of
Investigation was going, and thought it would be appreciated if he saved it
some trouble. He stopped when they reached the foot of the hill and turned
toward his companions.

 
          
 
"I'm afraid I misled you last
night," he said cheerfully. "I didn't come to Lys by the old route,
so your attempt to close it wasn't really necessary."

 
          
 
The councillors' faces were a study in relief
and increased perplexity.

 
          
 
"Then how did you get here?" The
leader of the Committee spoke, and Alvin could tell that he at least had begun
to guess the truth. He wondered if he had intercepted the command his mind had
just sent winging across the mountains. But he said nothing, and merely pointed
in silence to the northern sky.

 
          
 
Too swift for the eye to follow, a needle of
silver light arced across the mountains, leaving a mile-long trail of
incandescence. Twenty thousand feet above Lys, it stopped. There was no
deceleration, no slow braking of its colossal speed. It came to a halt
instantly, so that the eye that had been following it moved on across a quarter
of the heavens before the brain could arrest its motion. Down from the skies
crashed a mighty peal of thunder, the sound of air battered and smashed by the
violence of the ship's passage. A little later the ship itself, gleaming
splendidly in the sunlight, came to rest upon the hillside a hundred yards
away.