The navigator (10 page)

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come soon enough for Owen, who was starting to feel seasick from the swaying of the slender tower. They stepped onto the broad platform on which the Skyward stood. The glass walls gleamed softly. Peering through the glass, Owen could make out instrument cases, strange spindly machines, all shape and manner of objects, and in the middle of the room a long spike pointing down with what appeared to be a clock hanging from it.

"Are we going in?" he said.

"We have to wait until the doors are lined up," said Cati.

Owen suddenly noticed that the contents of the Skyward were in a different position from the last time he had looked. Although the outside glass wall had not moved, the interior was slowly revolving. There was a door in the outer wall and one in the inner wall that was turning, and in a few moments the two doors would be lined up.

"You have to move quickly," Cati said. She grasped the door handle, which was shaped like a long, thin hand with narrow brass fingers. "Ready?" There was a loud click as the two doors lined up. Cati swung the outer door open and hauled Owen through behind her. They fell on their knees inside and the doors clicked shut behind them. Owen picked himself up. He was getting used to being thrown around by Cati.

He looked about him. He could see delicate instruments in cloth-lined cases. Copper piping flowed round the room in complicated and delicate patterns, but much

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of the machinery seemed to have been scavenged and put to some other purpose. Liquid flowed through a glass pipe into an old vacuum cleaner that turned itself on with a self-important cough every few minutes and spewed warm, green-colored liquid into a glass jar. Tiny plants grew under controlled conditions on an old record turntable that was revolving very slowly. A set of heavy levers coming out of the floor looked as if they belonged in a railway signalman's hut. A chair that looked like an old airplane seat was bolted to the floor in the middle of them. Two chrome hubcaps set on spindles whirled on some unknown business.

As Owen stared, he noticed a man standing in front of what appeared to be an ordinary domestic fridge, except that it was producing extraordinarily cold conditions. The man was of average height with long black hair fastened at the back. He was wearing blue overalls like a garage mechanic. The overalls were tied in the middle with a leather tool belt, except the tools in this one were of all sorts of shapes and sizes and mostly looked as if they had just been invented. The man was wearing huge leather gauntlets and holding a long-stemmed red rose in his right hand. Cautiously he extended the hand into the interior of the fridge, from which cold vapors wreathed to the ceiling. There was a vicious crackling hiss and he jumped backward, slamming the fridge door. He looked down at the flower, which had been turned into an ice rose, cold and glassy. The man smelled it, then yelled "Ouch!" as it touched his nose. He began

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to rub the place vigorously as if there was a danger of frostbite.

Cati cleared her throat. The man whirled round. He had strange, sloping green eyes, which were watering profusely.

He stared at Cati, then broke into a smile, still rubbing at his nose.

"Hello, Dr. Diamond," she said.

"Again you see to good it's, Cati, hello," Dr. Diamond said.

Owen stared. What had the man just said?

"This is my friend Owen," Cati said.

"You about me telling been they've. You meet to pleased I'm, yes oh."

"What's he saying?" Owen whispered furiously.

"Excuse me, Dr. Diamond," Cati said kindly, "I think you're talking backward again."

"I am? I mean, am I? Yes, of course you're right, Cati. I'm thinking in backtime."

"It's the time going backward," Cati told Owen in a loud whisper. "He thinks that by going backward he's going forward, if you know what I mean. He does it when he gets a bit flustered." Owen didn't have a clue what she meant by this.

"I'd give you the rose," Dr. Diamond said apologetically, "except it's super-frozen now, take a month or two to thaw out, and there's a danger of frostbite in the meantime." He rubbed at his nose again, then turned to Owen.

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"Now, young man, Chancellor sent me a note about you. I'm supposed to have a look at you or something. Where is that note? I put it down somewhere five minutes ago. Or am I going to put it down in five minutes' time?"

"He's always trying to work out the way that time works going backward," Cati whispered. "He says the more you think about it, the more complicated it gets."

As Dr. Diamond looked for the note, Owen examined the big clock in the center of the room. At least he thought it was a clock, although it wasn't like any clock he had ever seen. It had five faces all looking different ways, and each face had one hand on it, each hand moving at a different speed. But the hands didn't keep moving at the same speed all the time. Sometimes one of them would speed up and go really fast, then slow down. Sometimes they would all be moving at different speeds. Cati started to say something to him but he hushed her. He didn't think his head would take any more complicated theories about time.

Dr. Diamond found the note from Chancellor. He read it and then stood lost in thought for a moment. Then in two quick strides he was in front of Owen, face to face, staring at the boy with his intense green eyes. Owen felt himself flinch, as if he was staring into the eyes of a fierce hawk. Dr. Diamond's arms were holding Owen's upper arms. Owen remembered that Cati had said the doctor was very intelligent, and he realized that she did not mean intelligent like somebody brainy in

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school, but something far more--an intelligence that was like a deep, deep well, something dark and mysterious and bottomless.

"Let me see," Dr. Diamond said. "Water, yes. Afraid of it. Harsh try very hard to kill Cati. Understand that. Try very hard not to kill Owen. Mystery there, but perhaps if ..." He let go of Owen suddenly and whirled round to a desk, seizing a pencil and a piece of paper. He wrote furiously for several minutes. Owen, looking over his shoulder, saw columns of figures and theorems and equations composed of complicated mathematical symbols. Finally Dr. Diamond stopped and examined his calculations.

"I think I comprehend," he said slowly. "Well, at least that which is open to comprehension. I think I know a little more about your friend, Cati."

"He's not Harsh, is he?" Cati said quickly.

"No," Dr. Diamond said slowly, "but not everyone will accept my word for that. And that does not mean that there isn't danger. However, Chancellor's letter simply asked me to work out if you are Harsh and that is what I have done. Now. Your turn, young Owen. Ask me a question for a change."

Owen thought for a minute. He didn't want to hear some complicated theory on time that would make him look stupid when he didn't understand. "What's magno?" he blurted out.

"Ah, magno," Dr. Diamond said, casting a shrewd look at Owen. "Magno is the Force that Binds."

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"The Force that Binds," repeated Owen, trying to sound intelligent.

"The Force that Binds, that propels, that powers, that pulls, that pushes, that casts light in the darkness, that defends ..."

"Is it the same as magnetism?"

"A very astute question," Dr. Diamond said, looking at Owen thoughtfully. Owen returned the look, not feeling very astute at all.

"Yes, Owen, it is very like magnetism. But I can see your head is getting sore with trying to understand things. My advice is to just try to understand one thing a day. It's easier on the brain." Dr. Diamond paused and cocked his head, as if he had heard something.

"What is it, Dr. Diamond?" asked Cati.

"You don't happen to know if Johnston's been over the river to talk about a truce yet, do you?"

"I don't think so," Cati said.

"Well, then, he is on his way. Let us go out and have a look."

They followed Dr. Diamond out onto the balcony. He was right. As they looked across the river, they could see that the white mist had parted slightly, and through the mist the man that Owen had known as the scrapyard owner, Johnston, strode onto the riverbank. He had not changed from the day that he had set his dogs on Owen to chase him from the scrapyard, and the boy shivered at the memory.

Johnston's face was big and fleshy with small eyes,

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red-black hair slicked back, and huge sideburns that almost met at his chin. He was tall and as solid as if he had been carved out of a single block of stone. Owen was used to seeing him in blue overalls, but this time the overalls had white epaulettes on the shoulders--obviously part of a uniform. Johnston surveyed the riverbank calmly. He carried no weapon, but Owen was aware that behind him in the mist there were more men, perhaps twenty in all, each dressed like Johnston and with the same massive sideburns. Owen counted as the mist swirled around them.

"Look," Cati said. Rutgar stepped out from the trees on the other side of the river. Although they were too far away to hear what was going on, it seemed that the two men were negotiating. Rutgar turned away suddenly and disappeared into the trees. Johnston waited.

"He is looking for a parley with us," Dr. Diamond said.

"What's a parley?" asked Owen.

"A talk," Cati said, "probably about us surrendering or something."

"I would imagine so," Dr. Diamond said.

"I won't surrender to him," Cati said fiercely, clenching her fists, "not even if he has a thousand Harsh over there."

"I didn't think you would," said Dr. Diamond, patting her shoulder in a kindly manner. "Nevertheless, Chancellor and the others might reckon it their duty to consider whatever offer is made. ... That didn't take long."

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Rutgar had come back. He beckoned to Johnston. The big man sprang onto the fallen tree like a cat and ran lightly across.

"Where is he going?" asked Cati, sounding as if she couldn't believe that Rutgar had let Johnston across.

"He is going to meet our leaders at the Convoke," Dr. Diamond said, "and they'll give him safe passage to do it."

"He'll see our defenses!" said Cati.

"He has seen them anyway," Dr. Diamond said. Then he added in a meaningful way, "I know that if there was some way I could get in to see what was going on at the Convoke, it would be very interesting."

Cati looked at Owen. "Somewhere to watch ... come on!" she hissed. She turned to Dr. Diamond. "It's been great to see you again, Doctor."

"And you, Cati," he said with grave courtesy, "and to meet your new friend. I would be grateful if you would bring him back to talk about magno and other things."

"Unless ... unless I've already been here in backtime," Owen said, feeling he was getting a grasp on things.

"Yes," said Dr. Diamond with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, indeed."

"Come on!" said Cati.

Dr. Diamond suddenly looked thoughtful. He produced a book that looked to be full of important equations from one pocket and a battered notebook from the other. He read rapidly, then started to scribble in the notebook.

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"See you soon, Dr. Diamond," Owen said, but the scientist and philosopher seemed to be totally wrapped up in what he was doing, and didn't answer. Cati grabbed Owen's arm and started to haul him toward the ladder. Dr. Diamond did not look up. But as they were on the fourth flight down a head appeared over the rail at the top.

"Don't forget what I said about coming back," he shouted, and Owen waved back.

It took them fifteen minutes to get to the secret hiding place looking down on the Convoke. At one stage Cati saw Samual stalking along the path, and hauled Owen into the bushes to hide. Samual was muttering to himself as he walked along.

"I'm sure he's up to something," Cati said.

They waited until Samual had passed out of sight, then ran to the door of the Starry. As they passed through the sleeping forms, Owen remembered the little girl who had woken the previous day. Had the fact that he'd stumbled and touched her something to do with her waking?

They took the stairs two at a time, Cati leading, until they reached the top and went out onto the little balcony. They looked down to see Johnston standing in the middle of the hall. Chancellor, the Sub-Commandant, Samual, and Contessa stood together facing him. The head of the guard, Rutgar, stood at the door. And Pieta stood behind her chair at the fireplace. Even at this distance Owen could sense the stillness, the dangerous

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tension in her. If Johnston was aware of it, he showed no sign. He stood with his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips, looking about him with a lazy arrogance.

"You didn't come here to admire the hangings," Chancellor said. "State your business."

"I apologize, Chancellor," Johnston said. "It is such a long time since I have seen the old hall." The words were polite but the tone was not, and Owen knew that the man was mocking Chancellor.

"Get on with it, Johnston," Pieta growled. The man put his fingers to his lips.

"Hush, little one," he said. "Such a long sleep."

Owen didn't know what he was talking about, but he heard Cati's sharp intake of breath, so he knew it was serious. He expected to see the long whip of magno snaking out toward the man. But Pieta bit her lip and turned away, burying her head in her shoulder as if to hide a terrible grief.

"Make your parley, Johnston, and go!" snapped Rutgar.

"Yes," said Johnston, "the parley. That is the reason I'm here. I am ready to offer terms."

"What terms?" asked Chancellor. There was anxiety in his voice.

"These are the terms. You abandon all defense of this place and I will return you to the Sleep, long and dreamless, for eternity."

"And what advantage is there in that?" the Sub-Commandant asked.

"My Watcher friend," Johnston said softly--Owen