The Shadow and Night (82 page)

“Can you stop the losses?” Merral asked, suddenly horrified at the prospect of the Library having all its billions of irreplaceable files deleted.

“We are trying to,” Harrent said. “Based on what has gone missing we have established a profile of what the ghost is seeking. I have taken the unusual step of having the remaining titles in those areas digitally transcribed to indelible archive format. We think any further erasure impossible.” The librarian shook his head in a gesture that conveyed dismay and regret. “But I am appalled.
Most
appalled. Is there anything else?”

“No, my friend. But thank you; now go and watch carefully.”

Harrent stood up cautiously, shook hands again with Merral and Vero, and left. As the door closed behind him and the steady footsteps receded into the distance, Vero leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his neck, and exhaled heavily.

“So, my friend, what do you make of that?”

“Very worrying.”

Vero nodded. “But also, in a strange way, encouraging.”

“I found no encouragement.”

Vero smiled. “Yes. But they made mistakes.
Again.
They are not totally beyond us. Let us be grateful for small things.”

He rose. “Let's go. We have a meeting at the base. It's about half an hour's drive, but Lorrin will take us. We can sit at the back of the transporter, and you can tell me about Ynysmant and where this ship is exactly. Corradon and Clemant will be up later, and we need to decide what to do then. But action is urgent. You see we face a double attack: The intruders are getting themselves into the heart of Farholme, and the evil associated with them is spreading in our society. Time is slipping away faster than we realize.”

Merral stepped into the corridor. “It's scary. By the way, what data files were missing?”

“Oh, you can probably guess,” Vero said, closing the door behind them.

“No, I can't. Not easily. You tell me.”

“Well, a lot of things to do with Jannafy's rebellion; mostly those that talked about how it ended.”

“Another common theme.”

“Yes, isn't it?” Vero's face bore a knowing look. “And the name of William Jannafy will doubtless arise later on today. Also missing, interestingly enough, were a lot of technical works on late twenty-first century military techniques and weapons.”

As he motioned Merral onward he said, in a casual way, “It is almost, my dear Forester, as though they were preparing for us to fight them.”

When they got to the transporter—a big four-wheeled, open-backed LP4 with fading yellow paint and piled high with cases and boxes—Vero led him to the back of the vehicle.

“We can talk here,” Vero said, clearing a space to sit. “I want you to tell me all about Ynysmant and the ship as we drive. Lorrin knows a lot, but the fewer that know about this the better. Besides, I think a forester like you may prefer the sun and the fresh air.”

Merral sighed. “Indeed, I've had little enough of it lately.”

“I find it bright,” Vero said. “I spend my life indoors now.” He took a blue-peaked cap out of his briefcase and pulled it over his head.

After checking that they were strapped in, Lorrin leapt back into the cab, and they drove steadily westward through Isterrane on the main coastal avenue. As they drove out of Isterrane into the countryside, Vero plied Merral with questions about events in Ynysmant and how he had found the evidence for the ship. For the most part, Vero listened to his account without comment, merely giving encouragement with nods and looks.

Faint snatches of Lorrin's whistling drifted back from the front of the vehicle, causing Merral's spirits to lift. The sky was a brilliant, flawless spring blue, the sun warming, and he could smell the sea salt in the breeze. It was the sort of day that brought to mind thoughts of climbing hills, taking picnics with friends by turbulent and wayward streams, and sitting on new green grass, or lying out, reptilelike, on warm stones. Then it came to him that today he could do none of those things but must talk of darker things, of intruders, sin, and evil. And the contrast saddened him.

Suddenly they turned up from the coast road and climbed northward on a narrow, uneven track along the side of the Walderand River. From the swaying transporter Merral could see the bubbling white waters of the river along the valley bottom. Lorrin, evidently enjoying himself, had shifted to loudly singing a string of folk songs.

Suddenly Vero, who had said nothing for many minutes, looked at Merral. “The landing site; is it accessible?”

“I think so. You are thinking about the expedition?”

“Yes.” Vero bit his lip and frowned. “I suppose I need to look at the maps first.” Then he gestured back toward Isterrane. “The ghost in the Library . . . Can I guess what you found the most striking thing?”

Merral shook his head. “Too easy; the idea that this thing could be unaware that the Library would be empty on the Lord's Day.”

Vero nodded. “Yes. Mind you, reading Lyonel is weird too. It just confirms to me that whoever the intruders are, they are not Assembly.”

“Exactly.”

“Or if they are of the Assembly—” Vero's face darkened—“then things have gone very badly wrong somewhere.” Then he shook his head and fell silent again.

Merral was glad of the break in the conversation, and as Lorrin drove them upward on the winding road, he stared at the scenery, trying to clear his mind from the notion of something unpleasant prowling in the Library. They had gained some height now, and Isterrane was stretched out below them, the white blossom of the orchards and the verdant spring grass breaking up and isolating the red and white patches of buildings. Beyond them and the high gray seawall was the dazzling blue of the sea, where Merral could make out white lines of the waves breaking in the spring breeze.

Now Lorrin turned off onto an even narrower track that showed signs of the recent passage of many vehicles. Ahead Merral could see how the hillsides were closing in as steep cliffs of purple-gray lavas swung across the valley, almost sealing it off. They passed a sign on which the words
Walderand River Project: Site Road Only
were written, and Merral noted that above it had been posted a smaller, newer green sign on which the letters
FDU
had been marked.

As the road became rougher and steeper, the swaying of the transporter became more pronounced, and Merral saw that Vero was starting to look uncomfortable. Then they rode over a crest in the road and Merral was able to see that, a kilometer or so away, the road stopped below the sheer cliff that ended the valley. As he stared at the rocks ahead, Merral was suddenly aware of men and machines working away below them. A small cloud of brown dust drifted slowly upward.

“I thought the water project had been stopped?” Merral asked, gesturing at the construction work.

“It has. That's ours,” Vero replied.

“All of it?”

“All of it.” Vero sounded almost embarrassed.

“But it's vast.” The rumbling of the wheels beneath him was now so loud that Merral almost had to shout.

Vero hesitated for a moment and then exhaled noisily. “Yes—it needs to be.” Then he smiled. “But my manners fail me.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand. “Welcome, Forester, to the FDU base.”

31

A
s they drove ever closer to the end of the valley, Merral could see what was being constructed: a semicircular earth wall with a narrow access gap for the road. Nearer still, Merral was surprised to see that the gap was closed off by a moveable metal barrier. They stopped in front of the barrier, and Vero gestured that they get out. “Let's walk through!” he shouted over the noise of the earth-moving machinery. “It's quicker.”

As they walked past the transporter, Lorrin, whistling happily, beamed at them and raised an outstretched hand sharply to the side of his head.

A salute. I've been saluted.
The world seemed distorted again.
We only ever salute the emblem of the Lamb and Stars, and that on special occasions.

Merral tapped Vero on the shoulder. “Lorrin just saluted us,” he whispered. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“Ah. Saluting. A problem, that. At the moment, it is voluntary. But we need to make a decision. I should say—perhaps warn you—that while we have made a lot of progress in some technical areas, there are some things we have not resolved. Such as discipline.”

“Can't we make it voluntary?”

“A voluntary discipline?” Vero gave a strained smile. “Give that idea some more thought, Forester.”

Merral noticed men unrolling metal wire mesh to put up along the top of the earth wall.
A month ago, I would have assumed it was to keep animals in; I can now guess it is to keep things out.

A young man with a databoard came over, gave Vero an abrupt but somehow deferential nod of the head, and then, with polite efficiency, took Merral's name and date of birth.

“Sadly necessary,” muttered Vero, as if embarrassed by the procedure, and walked on briskly.

Feeling perplexed, Merral followed him to the foot of the towering cliff. There, by the side of two great tunnels, a new wooden building had been erected.

“Excuse me a moment,” Vero said. “I just need to check on deliveries.”

While he waited outside, a still-bemused Merral watched the noisy activity going on around him. By the perimeter wall there were three earthmovers and a dozen men putting up the wire mesh, while inside the compound two LP4 transporters were being unloaded by another half dozen men and a lift truck. From deep inside the tunnel came noises of further mechanical activity.

Vero returned clutching papers and motioned Merral urgently toward the larger, right-hand tunnel.

“Merral, things are moving fast,” Vero said in an impatient tone of voice. “But it's a race and I'm not sure we are winning.”

He led Merral past another observant young man with a databoard and a sign that proclaimed “FDU Personnel Only” into the darkness of the tunnel. As they walked carefully along the side of the tunnel, Merral became aware of an increasing volume of noise ahead of them. About eighty meters from the entrance, the tunnel opened out into a vast four-story cavern lit by bright cones of light and the flash of electric and plasma beams.

Merral stopped, gazing around in awe. Ahead of him, in an area the size of a Team-Ball pitch, perhaps fifty or more people were at work at a dozen sites. Some were packing crates and containers, others were working busily on vehicles and machinery, and still others were assembling equipment. The warm and heavy air was filled with sounds: hammering, shouting, clanking, all reverberating off the bare rock walls.

Merral grabbed Vero's arm. “Is all this . . . yours?” he asked, barely able to believe that his friend had been able to organize so much.

Vero stopped suddenly. “It's not mine; it just sort of grew,” he said loudly as a new burst of hammering broke out beyond them. “I'll explain how later. Up here.” Then, before Merral could ask him any more questions, he was clambering up a metal stairway that led to a walkway along the side of the cavern.

“Just a minute!” called out Merral, catching up with his friend. “Look at those things!” he said, pointing at the two familiar gray vehicles being worked on under spotlights. “Those are gravity-modifying sleds!”

“True,” Vero replied in a matter-of-fact way.

“But we were told—in Planning—not to use them. Gravity-modifying engine technology was for urgent and emergency use only. It was a case of priority.”

Vero inclined his head in evident agreement. “True, true. But this is why there was that restriction. We needed them. Ours is ‘urgent and emergency use.' ”

“But—”

Vero, however, had walked on and, opening a door off the walkway, beckoned Merral into a gloomy corridor. He closed the door behind him and the noise of the cavern vanished. They walked a dozen meters along the corridor before Vero stopped in front of another door and turned a handle. The door opened, revealing a room so well-lit that Merral found himself blinking.