Pandora's Genes (21 page)

“This is only a beginning,” she murmured. “We still need a method to discover which men are carriers – and why, indeed, the trait doesn’t extinguish itself. At present we can only be certain of those few men who do not share a wife, where she has died of the sickness. Zach pointed the way first to that.”

The Principal nodded. Although he had long since left the Garden when Zach’s wife died, he knew that Zach had pored over the available information, finally abandoning all study and the Garden after satisfying himself that he was a carrier and that the death had, in truth, been his fault.

“For now, we are ready to begin testing the general population,” she continued. “We’ll need your help.”

“All my resources are yours.”

“My scientists have already drawn up plans. They’ll explain everything to you in detail.” She paused, then went on, speaking very distinctly. “I wanted to talk to you myself to get your pledge to fully protect any women who go into the Capital.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Protection in every way,” she repeated. “And above all, from yourself.”

He shook his head angrily. “No promises, old woman!”

“Listen to me,” she said. “What’s between us is in the past. I know I bear some responsibility for your hatred of women. But this is much more important than the way either of us feels. We are finally on the verge of an answer. Trouble between you and the Garden would destroy that. Katha is strong and a good leader, but she doesn’t fully understand how important the work is. Don’t do anything to jeopardize it. Promise me.”

He had to stand. He walked to the window and parted the curtain, then looked out at the white November sky. He took three deep breaths, letting them out slowly, then returned to the old woman’s bedside.

“I promise,” he said. “There is no choice.”

“I know you will keep your word,” she said. She settled back into the pillows, as if completely exhausted. She seemed to slip into sleep, and he wondered what to do, when her eyes flicked open again. “You must meet with the women who will work in the Capital. All have volunteered, and all understand the possible dangers. They are irreplaceable, Will, as is their knowledge. Guard them well.”

He nodded. “My men will protect your girls with their lives. Rest easy, old woman.”

She laughed weakly. “Don’t bury me too soon. I’ve some time left yet.” Her eyes clouded. “I’ve been very lucky, to live to see the goal of my life nearly reached. If only . . .” She looked up at him, her face full of sorrow. “If only Zach could have lived to see it too.”

He felt contaminated by the old woman and her stench of illness. Although he had intended to stay here the night, he could scarcely wait to return to the military compound, where he would sleep among men, in the clean air.

There remained only the meeting with the scientists who would come to the Capital when he had worked out the details. All would, of course, be fanatical Daughters of the Garden, humorless and sexless. He followed Katha to the lab, cluttered as the old one had been with its odorous animal cages and strange instruments.

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Waiting with the other two scientists, and looking more beautiful than she had as a very young girl, was Evvy. She had grown tall, and her woman’s figure was evident even under the loose-fitting lab coat. She was a young woman now, nothing like the flat-chested, innocent girls he had always preferred.

It didn’t make any difference. He wanted her so intensely that the feeling made him dizzy; and he understood at once why the treacherous old woman had extracted his promise at her sickbed.

T
HE
P
RINCIPAL FELT IRRITABLE AS
he approached the Capital. Although he had been away fewer than thirty-six hours, it seemed longer. The dirt, the noise, the stench, were overwhelming. As soon as he crossed the still-standing pre-Change bridge with its concrete pilings and rusting supports, he saw the heaps of refuse piled carelessly all along the riverbank. The crumbled pre-Change roadways were crowded with merchants and farmers taking their wares home on carts drawn by draft animals. Most of the men were dirty and shabby, drinking their home brew from flasks, shouting, arguing, relieving themselves in the street. At every crossroads ragged young boys solicited, selling themselves for the price of a meal or a cup of brew. Above them all stood the ancient buildings, crumbling and dingy, like crude caricatures of the shining marble structures shown in pictures from before the Change.

Three generations ago this had been a thriving metropolis, a center of the highest civilization mankind had ever achieved. Now most living was clustered by the river and its tributaries, a stinking, concentrated mass of humanity with all its problems.

How could he hope to restore civilization when barbarism was so close to the surface? Was it even worth it to try to clean up and educate these dirty, wretched men and women with their rotten teeth and sallow complexions? Even as he thought of the difficulties that faced him, his mind was working on the immediate problem of establishing clinics for the testing of women and for the vast project on birth-control education that would follow. Automatically he reviewed government buildings that could be used. The scientists from the Garden would stay in the pre-Change mansion across from his own great House; they would be safe there, and he could keep an eye on them. At the thought of the women his anger rose again, sickening him. Evvy would be as close by as his stables; he might see her every day; and he had given his word to stay away from her.

As the Principal and his men turned off the broad avenue toward his House, their mounts were jostled by crowds leaving the closing markets on the mall. Some men recognized him and turned to wave or to call out, begging for a special favor or an audience. Usually he stopped and spoke to his people, but he was tired and irritable and wanted as little contact as possible with the unhappy subjects who were his chosen responsibility.

At the park just across from his House, a large crowd was gathered around a man standing on a crate. He was dressed in filthy leather garments but was clean-shaven, and spoke with obvious passion. Surprised at the size of the crowd, the Principal turned to watch a moment. Very quickly someone recognized him and called out his name. The man stopped speaking, then looked directly at him. For a moment their eyes met, and the Principal felt a chill go through him.

He paused in confusion, not certain what to do. History taught that freedom of speech was an important outlet in any society. Take away free speech and you guaranteed the spread of dissidence. But there was something frightening about this man, his look, his passion, and the attention of his listeners. The Principal turned to Daniel, intending to ask him to find out who this speaker was and what he was doing there, but suddenly the crate was empty, and the crowd was dispersing. The next instant the Principal heard shouts and a shrill whistle, across the street at the entrance to his House.

He turned and saw men running toward the porch. His heart thumping, he slapped his mount and quickly rode through the wrought-iron gates.

He jumped off his mount, handing the reins to a frightened-looking stable boy, and ran toward a bushy-bearded guard. “What’s going on here?”

The man began to stammer. “The great library, sir. Someone has got into it with a fire—”

A fire! In the library! Will ran up the stairs and along the carpeted corridor to the library. There was a sharp smell of smoke, excited shouts, and the sounds of men running. Through the haze he saw several guards beating a struggling figure in the doorway.

At that moment Robin rushed up to him.

“Thank the deenas you’re back!” the old secretary cried.

Will pushed past him into the library. The smoke was still choking. In the center of the room stood a large pile of ancient books, blackened and now sodden from the water that had been poured on them. The magnificent blue carpet had been ruined.

Glancing quickly at the shelves, he saw that the damaged books represented only a fraction of the many stored here, but his stomach still turned over at the thought of any damage to the irreplaceable knowledge of the past. He turned back to the door, where Odell, the housekeeper, was cowering. “Have someone clean these books and save what can be saved. Dry the pages that can still be read. Put as many men on it as necessary. Now!” Trembling, Odell set off to recruit workers.

The Principal turned his attention to the guards, their faces streaked with sweat and smoke. “Who is this man?”

“A new servant, sir,” said Perry, the older of the guards. “Good thing Jason smelt smoke – the whole place would have gone up.”

The man who had created the fire lay trembling in the corner, blood running from his nose and the corner of his mouth, his eyes wide and full of triumph. Or madness.

The Principal forced himself to look away from the wretch. He went to the windows and threw them open, then took three deep breaths, holding each before letting it out. When he had finished, he relaxed his fists and approached the man, keeping his breathing even. Slowly, he walked around the prisoner, whose foul, stale smell was remarkable even in a generally unwashed populace.

The prisoner looked up at him, curiosity flickering in his mad eyes, the bloodied mouth twisted in a demented grin.

“Who are you?” the Principal asked, meaning,
Why have you done this thing
?

The prisoner continued to look up at him, his face still split with the idiot grin. “Who are you?” the Principal repeated, his voice calm.

“His name’s Jared, son of Martha,” said Perry. “Least, that’s what he told the housekeeper when he got hired.”

Odell had returned and with a quavering voice was ordering servants to place the ruined books on slabs covered with cloth.

“How did you come to hire this man?” the Principal demanded.

Odell blinked. “We had a vacancy, and he showed he knew how to clean and polish. I didn’t know he was crazy. I don’t have time to check every—”

The Principal waved Odell silent and turned back to the prisoner. “Who sent you here?” Again, there was no response.

“I’ll get the answers I want,” the Principal continued. “I’m going to find out how this happened and who is responsible for it. I don’t care how badly I damage you in finding out.”

The Principal thought he saw a flicker of fear cross the man’s face, but still he said nothing. “Who ordered you here?” When Jared still did not answer, the Principal kicked him in the belly hard enough to knock the wind from him. The prisoner grunted and twisted away. When he had recovered his breath, he gasped, “’Twas my own idea,” he said. “I needed work.”

“Who ordered you to destroy the books?”

A crafty look appeared on his face. “God,” he said.

“What?”

“Almighty God. He orders all books and other science destroyed.”

“Filthy Trader!” Perry put the point of his lance to the man’s neck.

The Principal pushed Perry’s arm aside. “Who is your leader?” he asked the man. “Who are you working with?”

“All men are my brothers,” said Jared. “All men – but the godless scientists.” He spat on the floor. Again Perry moved toward the man, and again the Principal restrained him.

The prisoner looked up at the Principal and grinned. “Our messiah will put an end to you and all your unholy ways. You can’t stop us!”

“Who is this messiah? Name him!” But Jared curled into himself, again mute.

The Principal kicked him again, more gently, and turned away, disgusted at the man and at himself. He rarely employed torture, because it seemed to him both barbaric and an unreliable means of getting to the truth. But he would have this man tortured and then executed publicly, as a warning to any others who might think to bring their filthy Trader ideas into the Capital, and in the vain hope of obtaining some information, however slight.

Long after the prisoner had been dragged away, the Principal sat in the great library, at a carved oak table made long before the Change. On the ceiling were smudges from the oily smoke, and the ruined place in the carpet was now covered with a clean cloth laid by Odell’s men. He looked from wall to wall, his eyes caressing the books, fewer than half of which he had read. He realized he would have to accelerate the program he had instituted in the first year of his rule of having books copied out and the duplicates stored in scattered repositories. He made a mental note to set up new training courses for copyists; this would help to absorb more of the unemployed young men still flocking into the Capital – those that weren’t Traders, he reflected.

He could never hope to stop the Traders until he understood them more clearly, had some sense of their organization and codified beliefs. But the few prisoners he had questioned had seemed innocent of any theological system beyond an incoherent hatred of what they called science. Perhaps the religion had no structure. Perhaps the Traders were the forerunners of a race of new-people who did not think like ordinary men. This was an eventuality he and Zach had long been prepared for but had prayed would never come about. New-children were born every day, of course, but to his knowledge none had ever survived infancy, unlike such new-animals as mounts and poison-bats, which existed alongside and in many cases supplanted their genetic prototypes.

If only Zach were here, he thought, and stopped, surprised at himself. He had not thought of turning to Zach for help in quite a long time.

It had been over three years now since Zach had disappeared, three years since he had ceased to be the Principal’s companion; and sometimes it seemed like only yesterday. The Principal closed his eyes and tried to visualize Zach’s face, but all he could see was the ragged prisoner, blood and dirt streaking his lined face, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism.

W
ALKING QUICKLY BUT CAREFULLY
, E
VVY
picked her way along the broad Avenue, its surface paved with fine rock and strewn with animal and human wastes. On her left was the vast mall, sweeping from one end of the Capital to the other, its emerald grass cropped short by sheep and new-goats.