The Dark Design (62 page)

“Hith thtink vath different from Tham’th,” Joe said, grinning. “I didn’t thay that Tham thmelled any better, though.”

“You’re a thly one, ain’t you?” Sam said. “Anyway, Joe has never smelled anyone else like that. So I presumed that the agents are of human origin.”

“Tham thmoketh thigarth all the time,” Joe said. “I couldn’t thmell a thkunk around thothe weedth.”

“That’ll be enough of that, Joe,” Sam said. “Or I’ll run you back up the banana tree.”

“I never thaw a banana in my life! Not until I came here and my grail gave me vone for breakfatht. Even then I vathn’t thyure it vathn’t poithon.”

“Stick,” Johnston said.

Sam’s eyebrows curved like the backs of recoiling caterpillars.

“Stick what? I hope…”

“To the point.”

“Ah, yes. Anyway, I’m sure that there are agents around. The boat may be crawling with them. The question is, whose? X’s or the others’? Or both?”

Johnston said, “They ain’t seemed to interfere so far. Not with the boat, anyway. But when we get close to the headwaters…”

“I don’t know about interference. Even though he never said so, it’s safe to assume that X bored that tunnel and left that rope for Joe and his Egyptian friends. But there’s no evidence that the others are particularly against us mere Earthlings getting to the tower. They just don’t want to make it easy for us. Again, why not?

“Also, what about Odysseus? He showed up in the nick of time and saved us when we were fighting von Radowitz. He told me he was one of the twelve picked by X. I assumed at first that it was X who’d sent him. But no, Odysseus said it was a
female
Ethical. So, is there another one of them in on this? Another renegade who’s X’s ally? I asked him about her, and he just laughed. He wouldn’t tell me.

“But maybe the woman wasn’t X’s pal. Maybe she was an Ethical who’d gotten wind somehow of what was going on. And she sent Odysseus, who may have been an agent posing as the historic Odysseus.

“I say that because I’ve run into two Mycenaeans who were actually at the siege of Troy. At least, they claimed to have been. There are so many phonies on The River, you know. Both said that Troy wasn’t where Odysseus said it was. He had told me that Troy was much farther down in Asia Minor than the archaeologists said it was. The two Greeks said that it was where everybody had always said it was. Near Hissarlik, Turkey. Well, they didn’t identify the town and country under those names, of course. Neither was in existence in their day.

“But they did say that Troy was near the Hellespont, where Hissarlik was later built. Now, how about that mess?”

“If that Greek feller was an agent,” Johnston said, “why would he make up a lie like that?”

“Maybe to convince me that he was the real stuff. That he was the dyed-in-the-wool original. He wasn’t likely to encounter anyone who could call him a bald-faced liar. For one thing, he didn’t stick around long enough to be challenged.

“Here’s another thing. The scholars of my time had all said that the wooden horse of Troy was a myth. The story was about as credible as a politician’s campaign promises. But Odysseus said that there was a wooden horse, and he himself proposed it, just as Homer said he did, and it did get the Greek soldiers into the city.

“But then maybe it was a double-ply lie. By telling me that the scholars were all wrong, he made it sound as if he’d really been there. Anybody who could stand there and look you in the eye and tell you the scholars were full of sawdust and mouse droppings, because he had been there and they hadn’t, would convince me. The scholars are always sailing out, looking for a textural Northwest Passage, trying to navigate with a sextant in a snowstorm, not sure whether the bowsprit is on the fore or the stern.”

“At least, they tried,” Johnston said.

“So did the eunuch in the sheik’s harem. I wish I had some idea of what’s going on. We are in deep waters, as Holmes said to Watson.”

“Who’re thothe guyth?” Joe said.

The giant mountaineer growled. Sam said, “Okay, John, sorry. I was hoping we could follow at least one thread through in this tangled warp and woof. Hell, we can’t even find the end of one thread!”

“Maybe Gwenafra thyould be in thith,” Joe said. “Thyee’th a voman, vhich you may have notithed, Tham. You thaid vomen can pertheive thingth men can’t becauthe they got female intuithyon. Anyvay, thye doethn’t like being left out in the cold. Thye ain’t no dummy. Thye knowth there’th been thomething going on for a long time that you’ve been hiding from her. Right now, thye’th thulking in the main lounge. Thye hath the red athth every time you run her out tho ve can have a conferenthe about thith thubchect.”

“I don’t believe in women’s intuition,” Sam said. “They’re just culturally conditioned to observe different patterns of action and speech, different gestures and inflections from those men observe. They’re more sensitive to certain subtleties because of this conditioning.”

“It’th the thame thing in the end,” Joe said. “Vhat do ve care vhat ith’th called? I thay, ve been beating out our brainth on thith. It’th about time ve had a new dealer in on thith poker game.”

“Squaws talk too much,” Johnston said.

“According to you, everybody talks too much,” Sam said. “Anyway, Gwen is as smart as anyone here, maybe smarter.”

“It’ll end up with the whole world knowing about it,” Johnston said.

“Well, if you think on it,” Sam said, “why shouldn’t everybody know? Ain’t it everybody’s business?”

“The Stranger must have his reasons for wanting us to keep quiet.”

“But are they good reasons?” Sam said. “On the other hand, if we did blabber about this there’d be a mob trying to get to the North Pole. The ’49 Gold Rush couldn’t hold a candle to it. There’d be hundreds of thousands wanting to get to the tower. And a million hanging around to exploit them.”

“Let’th take a vote on Gven.”

“You ever heard of a woman at a council of war? The first thing you know, she’ll be wanting to run us. Them petticoats take an inch if ye give ’em a mile.”

“Women don’t wear petticoats anymore,” Sam said. “In fact, they don’t wear much of anything, as you must’ve noticed.”

The vote was two to one. Johnston said, “Okay. But you make her keep her legs crossed when she sits down, Sam.”

“It’s a strain just getting her to cover her breasts,” Sam said. “She’s a caution. But it ain’t her fault. Anyway, just about everybody swims naked. So what’s the difference if she is a little careless about how many square inches of flesh she exposes?”

“It ain’t the flesh, it’s the hair,” Johnston said. “Don’t it bother you none?”

“It used to. After all, I lived about the same time as you. But I didn’t spend my life among the Rocky Mountain Indians. We’ve been here thirty-four years, John, on a planet where even Queen Victoria is traipsing around in an outfit that would’ve given her heart failure followed by diarrhea if she’d seen it worn in front of Buckingham Palace. Now nudity seems as natural as sleeping in church.”

Gwenafra, forewarned by Sam, was wearing a loincloth under her kilt. She sat in a chair and listened wide-eyed while Sam explained why she had been admitted to the council.

After she had heard Sam out, she sat silently for a while, sipping from a cup of tea. Then she said, “I knew more than you thought I did. You’ve talked a lot in your sleep. I knew you were keeping something very serious from me. That hurt me very much. In fact, I was going to tell you, Sam, that you must tell me what was going on. Otherwise, I was going to leave you.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Because I supposed that you must have a very good reason for keeping it from me. But I was getting to the point where I couldn’t stand it anymore. Haven’t you noticed how cross I’ve been lately?”

“It hadn’t escaped me. I thought you were just being moody. One of the mysteries of woman. But this is no place to discuss our personal affairs.”

“What is the place, then? I know I would have said something if
you
’d been so irritable. Anyway, women are about as mysterious as a tin mine. All you have to do is carry a lantern into the dark places, and you see everything. But men like to think women are the eternally mysterious. That saves men the trouble of asking questions, taking a little time and effort.”

“The eternally loquacious, then,” Sam said. “You take as long to get to the point as a broken pencil.”

“You’re both gabby,” Johnston said, scowling.

“There are other extremes,” she said, glaring at Johnston. “But you’re right. Maybe there’s one thing that you could consider as a key to the mystery of the tower. That is, what kind of a person was Piscator?”

“Ah, hmmm,” Sam said. “I see what you mean. Why was he able to enter the tower while the others couldn’t? Well, for one thing, he could have been an agent. But if agents can get through the barrier, why couldn’t Thorn?

“Besides, why should Thorn have to use the
Parseval
to get to the tower? The Ethicals and their agents have their own methods of transportation, some kind of flying machine.”

“I don’t know,” Gwenafra said. “Let’s concentrate on Piscator. How was he different from the others? It couldn’t be a physical element—clothing, say—that was the key to entry. All tried to get in naked, yet only Piscator got in.

“Also, there was a difference in how far each was able to advance into the entrance. What were the elements in character that made some advance farther than others?”

“We’d need a computer to figure that out,” Sam said. “However, Gulbirra knows the men in the airship. She can describe them when she gets here. Anyway, to be scientific, the exact distance each person traveled would have to be known. And that would have to be compared to each person’s character. Nobody was taking measurements there, so that’s out.”

“Just consider Piscator then.”

“He was one of them samurai,” Johnston said.

“I don’t think race would have anything to do with it,” Sam said. “So far we haven’t uncovered any Mongolian agents, though I suppose there could be plenty. Consider this. Thorn did not want Firebrass and Obrenova to get into the tower. So he cold-bloodedly blew them up, not to mention the innocents with them. Maybe, though, Thorn didn’t know Firebrass was an agent. If so, he got two for the price of one.”

“Maybe there were more than two…” Gwen said. “No, only two had those black balls in their heads.”

“Jumping catfish! Don’t make it more complicated than it is!”

Gwen said, “If those two could’ve entered, then we should compare their characters with Piscator’s.”

“I vath around Firebrathth a lot, and he thmelled chutht like any human. Thith Ethical left a thmell behind him when he vithited Tham. It vathn’t human. Pithcator, he vath human, though he did thmell Chapanethe. I can dithtinguith different typeth of people becauthe of their diet.”

“But you never met a person who smelled nonhuman,” Sam said. “So we don’t know if the agents are nonhuman. They certainly look as if they are human.”

“No, but they mutht’ve been around me,” Joe said. “And thinthe I never thmelled anybody that didn’t thmell human—though that ain’t nothing to brag about—thmelling human, I mean, then the achentth mutht be human.”

“That mought be,” Johnston said. “It seems to this here child that if a non-Earthman cain look like a real person, then he cain smell like one.”

Joe laughed and said, “Vhy don’t ve chutht potht a notithe in the main lounge?
Any Ethicalth or achentth aboard pleathe report to Captain Clementh.
”

Gwenafra had been fidgeting about and frowning. She said, “Why do all of you duck the question I brought up? What about Piscator?”

“Maybe we’re like the circus midget who found the giant’s shoes under his wife’s bed,” Sam said. “Afraid to ask.

“Very well. I wasn’t too well acquainted with the gentleman from Cipango. He showed up about two months before the
Mark Twain
left. From all reports, he was a very quiet and likable person. Not withdrawn or aloof, just not aggressive. He seemed to get along with just about everybody. Which, in my book, makes him suspect. Yet he wasn’t a yes-man. I remember he got into an argument with Firebrass about the size of the airship to be built. He thought that it would be better to build a smaller one. The end of the discussion was that Piscator said he still thought he was right. But since Firebrass was the boss, he would do as he said.”

“Did he have any peculiarities?” Gwenafra said.

“He was crazy about fishing, but I don’t count that an eccentricity. Say, what’re you asking me for? You knew him.”

“I just wanted to get another viewpoint,” she said. “When Gulbirra gets here, we’ll ask her about him. She knew him better than we did.”

“Don’t forget Thyrano,” Joe said. “He knew him.”

“Joe loved Cyrano,” Sam said. “The Frenchman’s got a bigger nose than his. Makes Joe feel right at home.”

“That’th a crock of thyit. Ain’t none of you pygmieth got a nothe to be proud of. I chutht like him even if you two get along like two male hyenath in mating theathon.”

“I don’t care for the simile,” Sam said coolly. “Anyway, what do you think of Piscator, Gwen?”