The Shadow and Night (80 page)

T
he next morning the continuing dust storm delayed the flight, and Merral and the other passengers had to stand around in the terminal and talk as the latest meteorological data was checked. As he stood there watching a sun so muted that it was no more than a hazy, coppery glow in the clouds, Merral realized how impatient he was to be at Isterrane and to talk with Vero and the others. He wanted to share what he knew and to talk over his fears.

He also realized that he was particularly looking forward to seeing Anya. Merral found this feeling of anticipation troubling.
Surely,
he thought,
I ought only to feel such an excitement with Isabella?
After all, although Isabella clearly saw their relationship as being further advanced than he did, she and he
were
linked together. Yet Merral sensed that although he was still fond of her, he didn't delight in her presence in the way that perhaps he ought to. In fact, he realized he had been thinking a lot about Anya; indeed, over the past week or so, he had frequently found himself unfavorably comparing Isabella's subtle and roundabout manner with Anya's bluff openness. He found his pleasing thoughts about Anya perturbing. In what he now—rather worryingly— saw as his “old world,” feelings and choices had worked in harmony; somehow you both chose whom you loved
and
fell in love with them. The two sides of a personality worked together. Now though, he sensed, a conflict was possible; the feelings of the heart and the choice of the head might not automatically come together.

Merral walked around to the window overlooking the landing strip. Through the heavy air, almost brown with fine dust, he could see the tanker filling the short-haul passenger flier with hydrogen. As he stood there, he was suddenly aware of a conversation from two men seated a few meters away.

“Yes, it's the very weirdest thing,” he heard one man say in a tone that made the hairs on the back of his neck prick up. “You know I'm now doing the health certificates for the employment check on the sixty-five-year-olds?”

“Of course,” said the other man, whom Merral felt he had seen around the hospital. “I sympathized, remember? It's one of the worst things about being a doctor. People often get unhappy at being told to ease up on work.”

“Well, that's the thing. See, in the last six weeks, I have had three—really—
three
people, all thanking me for failing them.”

“Seriously?” Merral, held spellbound by the conversation, noted the genuine surprise in the voice.

“Absolutely. The last guy said, ‘Well, Doc, truth to tell, I'm glad. It's all been a bit of a strain lately. I reckon I'm glad to go and do part-time work.' The other two said much the same.”

“Extraordinary. But I've heard other things too. . . .”

At that point, the navigator came over and called them to the plane, and Merral never found out what other new and ominous novelties had transpired in Ynysmant. He could have asked, but he was already worried about becoming known as the man who was asking too many odd questions. As the plane rumbled up into the dusty air, he knew that there were some very serious decisions to be made in Isterrane.

Two hours later Merral landed at Isterrane airport to find the sun shining through an atmosphere swept free of dust by the coastal breezes. The terminal was full, as two flights from the west had just come in, and he could not see Vero. To his surprise, a tall, well-built man came over to him. He was in his early twenties, with short, pale brown hair, a chiseled face, and green eyes.

“Forester D'Avanos? Sentinel Enand sent me for you,” the young man said in a musical voice.

Merral stared at the young man and decided that they had never met. “Yes, that's right.”

“My name's Lorrin, Lorrin Venn.” An open smile broke across the face, and there was an eager and enthusiastic handshake. Lorrin Venn, Merral decided, was another of Vero's team, just out of college.

“This is good,” Lorrin announced with enthusiasm. “I am really delighted to meet you, sir. I'm in the FDU, and I'm under instructions to take you to the Library Center to meet Mr. Vero. Straightaway. Do you need a hand with the bag?”

“No, it's light.”

The young man, already moving toward the exit, shrugged in an easygoing manner. “Okay, sir.”

“But why the Library Center?”

“Sir, I wasn't told and I didn't ask. But over here, please. We have a vehicle.”

At a pace so fast that Merral could barely keep up, Lorrin walked through the main doorway and out to where a small, blue, four-seat urban machine was parked.

“But can't we find a lift?” Merral asked.

“No need, sir,” was the quick and buoyant response. “The FDU has its own vehicles now. Priority.”

“I see,” Merral answered, wondering exactly what else Vero had acquired for the Farholme Defense Unit. He gestured to the people waiting at the terminal exit. “But shouldn't we offer a lift to someone? We have two spare seats.”

Lorrin smiled. “No, sir,” he said. “The FDU has priority here too. Orders are to take you straight there and not to wait. Speeds us up no end. It's neat.”

“I see,” said Merral, noting Lorrin's enthusiasm for the privilege. “I was expecting Zak. What's he up to?”

“Zak Larraine? He's in the contact team. I'm in support.”

“What's the difference?”

“Contact's gonna be more exciting.” There was a note of regret in his voice.

Lorrin whistled softly as he drove; it was a tuneful and happy sound, and Merral found it soothing. Halfway to the Library Center, the young man turned to Merral with a curious, almost awed look. “You know, sir, we've all heard about you.”

“About me? What—?”

“That you fought the creatures. On your own. ‘Hand to hand' was the old term.” His tone was respectful.

“Oh . . . ,” Merral said, feeling embarrassed, “you know about that?”

“Well, Mr. Vero told us. See, we don't have much else to go on, really. Your information is hard data. But it sounded well, heroic.” He looked encouragingly at Merral. “I'd love to know more. Be neat.”

Merral looked out of the window for a moment, turning away from this man who seemed to think he was a hero. “Lorrin, I would give a lot to be able to forget all about it. Forever.” Then he realized that his words might sound rude. “But, well, if you need me to talk about it, then I'll do it. But only once. And then under pressure. And, if it's all right with you, not now.”

“Mr. Vero said it was nasty,” Lorrin said, glancing at him. “But I figured it might just be him. Well, sir, when you tell it, I hope it's not just for the contact team.”

“Lorrin, if you don't hear it, you won't miss much. It was nasty.
Very.
Fighting is nasty. Period.”

Lorrin seemed to consider the matter and then, moments later, began to whistle again.

They parked at the rear entrance to the Library Center, and Lorrin, still whistling, led Merral in through an unlabeled door and hurriedly down a dusty metal spiral staircase that vibrated under their footsteps. From the faint hum from the wall beyond, they were at the back of the data storage units that formed the core of the Library Center. And as he thought it, it occurred to him that what he was hearing was no longer just the sound of one small extension of the Library, the vast information network that spanned the Assembly. As far as Farholme was concerned, it was
the
Library and would be until today's young men and women were elderly.

At the bottom of the ladder, Lorrin turned, pushed open a door, and walked through into darkness. The automatic lighting switched on slowly after him, almost as if it were reluctant to believe that anyone was actually there. Ahead of them lay a narrow, bare, and unpainted brick corridor with a feeling of neglect about it.

“Mind your head,” Lorrin called back, gesturing to the sagging cabling festooned along the roof. With energetic strides, he set off down the sloping and curving corridor. Merral followed him as fast as he could, hearing their footsteps echoing all around. After a hundred meters or so, they stopped before a solid dark door in the side of the wall.

The door swung open a fraction to reveal Vero's brown face. His look of caution was suddenly transformed into one of pleased recognition, and he flung the door wide. “Welcome. Do come in!”

Clasping Merral's shoulder in a friendly grip, Vero led him into a tiny, white-painted, brick-walled chamber with a low, curved roof and the air of having been recently cleaned out and painted. It was sparsely furnished with a table, a few chairs, and a wallscreen, and in one corner a number of cables snaked down from an open ceiling duct to the floor.

Vero waved a hand at the young man. “Thanks, Lorrin! Can you find Harrent and tell him our guest is here? Quietly, though. Don't shout it out. Then get the truck ready.”

“Right, Mr. Vero,” Lorrin replied, in what Merral felt was a strangely formal way, and turned and walked swiftly back up the corridor. As the door closed, they could hear him beginning to whistle.

Vero closed the door firmly behind him and turned to stare at Merral.

“My friend!” Vero said, pleasure stamped across his face. “It's been too long. I have missed you. Especially with Brenito gone. I wanted to be in touch with you, but I thought it best to leave you be.”

Then he paused, swelled out his cheeks, and exhaled with a loud sigh. “Oh yes, such a lot has happened since we last met! But take a seat.” He gestured to a chair and then bobbed over and sat on the other side of the table behind a pile of datapaks and a battered yellow notebook with a neat
5
inked on its cover.

“And I'm glad to see you, Vero,” Merral replied.

He was struck by the odd feeling that Vero seemed at home in this subterranean room.

“But you've found it.” Vero stared expectantly at Merral's backpack.

“Yes. On the eastern edge of Fallambet Lake Five; the Fallambet is in the north of the crater. It's a tributary of the Nannalt River.”

“Ah. It was off the Nannalt Delta that the
Miriama
found the cockroach-beast.”

“Yes. I made that link too.”

“Splendid! I can't wait to see it. But I'd better. Anyway, Lorrin looked after you all right?”

“Yes. Happy fellow. Where's Zak?”

“Oh,” said Vero rather vaguely, “out with the contact team. But Lorrin was fine?”

“Yes.”

“He's a great guy. One hundred and ten percent enthusiasm. The top student last year in Library Science at the College at Baandal. Loves working with the FDU.”

“So it seems. I think he's happier than me about it all. But Library Science?”

A sudden look of deep intensity came into Vero's eyes. “Merral, I have realized many things over the last few weeks.” He shook his head as if awed by events. “I decided early on that I could create an FDU from first principles, but that it would take about twenty years. And your news from Larrenport and your doctor's alarming report on obstetric problems suggested to me that we might not have twenty months, or even twenty weeks. I realized that the only way of speeding things up was by using the past. So Lorrin—and others—have been working in the Library. And we have found more than we expected.” His expression was suddenly pained. “Ah. And also less. But Harrent will explain that.”