The Waters Rising (70 page)

“The stairs went down the right-hand wall into an empty room . . . a kind of entry room, with a door straight ahead. Inside that door, on my left, yes, there was a worktable of some kind. There were several things on it, mechanisms, I suppose. Two had round screens on them. One had a plan on it, like the plan of a house. The other was a map, yes, with many tiny red spots on it, a big blot of them, then more of them arcing away, like the tail of a kite . . .”

“If she had been searching for Jenger, it would have located Jenger’s remains,” said Precious Wind. “You know Norland well. Did the map seem familiar?”

“It showed roadways, dots that might have been towns, but nothing I could identify . . . no coastline. No body of water.”

“I think we can assume that device was a locator,” said Precious Wind, looking at the emissary, who nodded agreement. He had seen it. It was.

Lok-i-xan spoke. “One thing more before you go, warrior. Can you describe the creature for us?”

The man drew a deep breath, though it obviously hurt him to do so. He clasped his wounded right shoulder with his left hand, tipping his head in that direction as though to relieve a constant pain.

“I can only try,” he said. “It was shaped like a man. Taller than any man I have ever seen, perhaps a third again my height, and I am thought to be tall. He was thin, as the trunk of a tree is thin, and strong in that same way, as though made of layers of hard wood rather than flesh. He bled when we wounded him, which not many of us managed to do, though his blood did not run red but oozed a pale orange color. His flesh was gray, the color of dark ashes, and it seemed that his wounds healed almost at once, for the strange blood never showed for more than an instant.” The man eased his position, lowered his head in recollection. “I managed to strike him with my sword, across the back of his hand. In that wound, for a moment, I saw metal . . .”

Precious Wind waited briefly, then prompted him. “As though his bones might be of metal? Was he covered in blood? Not his own. Perhaps the woman’s blood?”

The warrior looked up, his face betraying a kind of empty desperation. “I thought I was seeing things. He had knocked me across the room and I was stunned, but I did see it. The memory is clear. His clothes were soaked, clinging to him, and that blood on his clothing was red, yes. Where I cut him, it glinted like metal, as if the bones in his hand were of steel.”

“Anything else?”

His head went down again. “Behind him, there was a . . . Would you think me mad if I said an open coffin? On end? A kind of packing case? It was taller than he was, wider, padded inside, full of tubing and little lights and sounds. I remember thinking,
So, that’s the box he came in,
as though he had been something manufactured that had been delivered there. I
wanted
to believe that!”

“Ah, yes,” said Precious Wind and Lok-i-xan simultaneously.

Lok-i-xan said, “You wanted to believe he was a machine, yes, but you were
right
to believe so. Though it has flesh and needs flesh to continue working, it is mostly a machine. He was created in the Before Time. He and the others of his kind were responsible for the Big Kill. You are very fortunate to have survived him, and we are fortunate that you did so, for you have told us something of great value.”

The warrior looked his question, unable to ask it.

“The thing like a packing case,” said Lok-i-xan, laying his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’re virtually sure he—
it
had been inside it. Not merely recently, no, but repeatedly, over and over again, we don’t really know how long. Perhaps for a thousand years. The case looked nothing like the ones we found elsewhere, but it had the same function. It kept him alive . . .”

“And now his packing case is gone,” said the emissary with a little satisfied nod. “Now it is gone!”

“But the thing is still alive,” cried the warrior in an agonized voice. “It chased my comrades up the stairs. I got out while it was gone . . . I should have—”

“Shh,” said Precious Wind. “You should have done no more than you did. Do not despair! We know it lives now, but it needs that ‘packing case’ to
continue
living. His time is limited, but we don’t know limited to how long!” She made an aversive gesture. “Why do we say ‘he’? We know the creature is male, in a sense, but we should not say ‘he,’ for it is not truly human.
Its
time is shortened, and we must devise a way to shorten that time even further.”

They thanked the warrior and let him go—which he did standing a bit taller than when he had arrived. The few survivors would have given much to forget that battle, though they knew they never would. It had been a failure. The only thing that redeemed it was that no fault lay with those who had fought there or died there.

“Now,” said Lok-i-xan. “You say we have the beginning of a plan.”

“We have more than that,” said the emissary. “Before we destroyed the place, we took a few things. We took another of the tubes that were used by the coffin device. And, we have a very interesting book.”

“A book?” cried Lok-i-xan.

The emissary laid the book on the table before them, turning the encased pages one by one.

“Pictures,” said Precious Wind. “By all that’s holy! You found pictures.”

“More than that,” whispered the emissary. “We found the creature’s name.”

Chapter 10

The Last Monster

T
he return voyage to Norland took less time than had the preparation for it. Once again, the wolves had been a problem, once again Precious Wind had insisted that they were needed. Blue had been more phlegmatic than previously, though no less susceptible to seasickness. There were a number of extra passengers, Tingawan warriors, for whom room and feeding must be provided. Lok-i-xan had lamented that there was no time to prepare one of the large Tingawan ships, several of which were at anchor near the continent. The big ships had carried up to a hundred passengers, but none of them had sailed for years and fitting one for a voyage would have taken more time than they had to fulfill the plan.

Precious Wind had been laconic about the plan devised in Tingawa. It was better, she said, that it not be discussed, even among themselves. As the time grew nearer, they would go step by step, the first step being to “locate” the monster.

“I thought your locator device along with all those devices was too old and fragile to be moved,” Abasio commented to Precious Wind.

“The emissary found books,” Precious Wind told him. “Books with pictures and diagrams. There were even spare parts packaged in such a way that time scarcely touched them. The language was archaic. We called in our linguists. It was difficult, but we’ve built a new one, and a power source to go with it.”

“A power source?”

“It really takes very little power. It can be cranked or pedaled as we did the far-talker. Two men can keep it running all day.”

“What powers the
ul xaolat,
the thing master?” asked Xulai. “The monster uses it to move around, doesn’t it?”

“It must be powered by something hidden, something left over from that former time. We don’t know where it is. It could be up there.” Precious Wind pointed to the sky. “They had things up there that took power from the sun and sent it to earth.”

Abasio said, “And we’re assuming the creature
still
has Alicia’s blood on it? That seems rather farfetched to me. It’s been quite a long time since she died.”

She said, “It’s one of the few things we’re certain of. Remember the description of that coffin-shaped device the creature slept or hibernated in? Our people are certain it did all the maintenance for the creature. The device clothed it, bathed it, and—”

“You call that
maintenance
?”

She frowned. “Just listen! Remember, I told you on our voyage to Tingawa that we—that is, Tingawan agents—long ago journeyed around the world, finding the hidden monsters from the time of the Big Kill: one here, one there, well hidden, deeply buried. In each of those places we found a case with a top made of something like glass and we found cartons of metal tubes. In each of those glass cases we found a monster. Through the side of each case into the hip of each monster one of the tubes had been inserted.

“The first time our people went to the Old Dark House, they examined every corner. The cellar had nothing in it that looked like the glass cases we had found everywhere else. We knew the creature had moved its maintainer before; we assumed it had done so again. There were cartons of the maintainer tubes there, and we thought it possible the creature would come back for them. Our people didn’t disturb the cellar, but they did take one tube from a full carton at the bottom of a pile. They resealed the carton, so nothing would appear to be missing.

“Our people went through the entire building. There were no clothes, no remnants of clothes, not anywhere in the building. There was no food storage, no hint that any food had ever been prepared there. There were ancient fireplaces but no sign they had been used for years, decades, perhaps centuries. In the Old Dark House itself, we found no sign that anyone had slept, eaten, washed, bathed, anything that living people do . . . except one. They found secret rooms full of books.

“This convinced us the creature
used
books and it
used
maintainer tubes, but it did not
use anything else.
Yet it lived. Yet it was clothed. People had seen it. Our people concluded that when the creature needed information, it turned to books. When it needed rest, clothing, nourishment, or what we might call ‘cleaning and fueling,’ it received all those things from the tubes that were stored there as part of
maintenance.

“It was only when our people went there for the second time, when Alicia died, and found the case open did they realize that the
interior
of it was similar to the glass coffin-cocoon devices we had destroyed all over the world. This told us we might have made a terrible mistake the first time we were there: the creature may have been inside, dormant. Empty cartons could have been disposed of. Of course, equally, the creature could have been somewhere else and returned without our seeing it. It was a judgment call. It had taken us fifty years to find the Old Dark House and nothing indicated the creature was there; at that time we judged it was worth leaving the place alone to see if the creature returned.”

Abasio cried, “But, Precious Wind, the damned thing is intelligent! When it came back, it would have known your people had been there!”

She sighed wearily, wiping her face with her hand. “A dog is intelligent, Abasio. I can teach a dog or a wolf how to do things that involve running, leaping, biting, howling, hunting. I cannot teach a dog to strum the strings of an ondang or read a book. I can teach a dog with vocal cords to speak several words. Dogs have distinguished among spoken commands for millennia. Mimicry is not natural to them; once they have vocal cords, it comes to them. Each creature has to learn within its own limits.

“So does this creature. I’m sure it is able to choose intelligently among successful strategies for killing people, because killing is what it thinks about. It may even be able to use books to look up ways of finding and killing people. But our people don’t believe it can think about maintenance any more than a dog can decide to build a doghouse. Dig a den, yes. Build a doghouse, no. We left the place absolutely undisturbed, the dust untracked, no footprints, no smell of our being there. We wore special suits. The people who built the creature were as single-minded as the thing itself. They wanted to kill everyone who did not believe what they believed. The creature has no thoughts or memories that are unrelated to that purpose. Its program tells it to find things to kill; kill until it needs maintenance; go get maintenance; find something to kill again.”

“So when it gets hungry it goes home.”

“Yes. When it gets really hungry, it goes home. It inserts a new tube into the maintainer; it gets inside, closes the maintainer, and all is taken care of. While it is being fed, it is also clothed and repaired as necessary.”

Abasio shook his head, hating the entire subject. “So on the basis of assumptions that Alicia shed blood on it to begin with and that the thing still has blood on it, we’re ready to risk Xulai’s life.”

“We are taking every precaution, Abasio.”

“Which you won’t tell any of us about.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to trust me and those who advise me.”

“Where Xulai is concerned, I really don’t trust anyone.” He didn’t. Abasio confessed to himself that he was in a mood. He had lost one beloved. He felt that he had spent half his life grieving. He was in a mood not to lose another and was growing increasingly afraid that it was fated to happen just as it had been fated that dreadful time before.

Xulai, meantime, had been so preoccupied with all the preparations that they were several days into the voyage before she confessed to Precious Wind it had occurred to her she might be pregnant.

“You’re what?” Precious Wind snarled.

“Well, you don’t need to sound like that!”

Precious Wind ground her teeth together. “No. Quite right. I needn’t. It’s just that, I hadn’t, we hadn’t considered that.”

“Oh, for all that’s sanctified, Precious Wind, you had to have considered that! It’s the reason for the whole thing, isn’t it? Aren’t I supposed to have children? Aren’t all of us sea-egg people supposed to have children?”

“How long?” demanded Precious Wind. “Before Abasio was given the sea egg, or after?”

Xulai shut her mouth and became very quiet, finally replying, “I’m not sure.”

“When did he get the sea egg? How long ago?”

Again silence. “I’m not sure.”

“Which is why I was exploding. If you got pregnant before, your child will not be a changer. If you got pregnant after, your child will be a changer. I presumed . . . I thought . . .”

“Well, all of you people who brought me up presumed entirely too much. Not one of you ever said a word about it. Not you. Not Oldwife. Not Nettie.”

“We assumed you realized . . .”

“And how was I supposed to realize anything! It’s customary to tell people things you want them to realize. We don’t pick up tactical information through our skins!”

Precious Wind went into her cabin and shut the door. Xulai went into the one she shared with Abasio and broke into tears, from which he rescued her some time later by telling her it did not matter.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” she sobbed.

“I mean it doesn’t matter,” he said, patting her on the back. “Your first child, our first child, sea fertile or not, will live out his or her lifespan long before the waters’ rising covers the earth. Our subsequent child or children will definitely be changers. If our first child is not, when he or she grows up you can give him or her a sea egg and his or her lover a sea egg. Their children, our grandchildren, will be changers. At this juncture, now, today, it makes no difference, therefore it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” shouted Precious Wind when Abasio went to discuss the matter with her.

He explained. He concluded by saying, “Since you’re asking her to risk her life to help trap the monster, I think it would be very nice of you not to yell at her. It would also make my life much easier.”

Precious Wind scowled. “We’re taking every precaution. When we made the plan, we didn’t know she was—”

“Your knowing would
not have made any difference,
” said Abasio forbiddingly. “You would have had to risk her anyhow. So it doesn’t matter. You can’t Whifflepop it into something else so it won’t Gloop. No, don’t ask!”

The days at sea passed in a seemingly unending procession. Precious Wind spent most of the daylight hours teaching the wolves something that she would not talk about. Blue stood at the rail, staring over the sea while considering the future of sea horses. A few of the mares he had left behind in Tingawa would bear young ones, young ones who would be used to create a generation of swimmers. Blue wavered between pride and depression. The thought of death had never bothered him. Now it did, simply because he could not see the future he had always pictured: ongoing horse life amid pastures, mares and stallions browsing along the banks of streams, young ones racing across green meadows. Undersea life would not be like that. When he visualized what it would be like, he felt cold, unloved, his life useless, his line ended. He had no idea how similar his feelings were to Abasio’s.

Justinian, between repeated climbs up and down the rigging and endless circuits of the deck, walking and running, sometimes leaned on the rail nearby, seldom speaking, never taking his eyes from Xulai when she was within view, never taking his mind from her, not even when he was asleep. He grew sadder, leaner, and more muscular with every day. Abasio watched him with concern. Justinian was not yet elderly; his body showed that, but his face showed a man past age, eternally frozen in some other time.

The Tingawan warriors also spent their days exercising, both with and without weapons, single-mindedly readying brains and bodies for whatever might occur. The captain brooded on the lack of winds. There were too many days of calm; they were moving eastward far too slowly. As though in answer to his complaint, the calm was broken by unseasonable storms that drove them along the Great Dune Coast, much farther south than they wished to go. Eventually they sighted the Icefang Mountains a goodly distance north of east while a steady north wind blew against them. Days of constant sail-shifting labor, sailing close to the wind, gaining slow mile after slow mile, brought them finally to Wellsport. There was much talk among the sailors when they came in sight of the place. Most of them had been in Wellsport in years before, and they found everything changed. The piers floated now, as they did in Tingawa. The buildings had been moved or rebuilt two-thirds of the way up the mountain, well above the landing area.

The people of Wellsport had observed the ship for over a day. Crowds of them lined the shore to watch it arrive, the first ship to have crossed the sea in a very long time. Rumor had it that ships would be coming regularly now. Rumor had it that the sea war was over. The sailors explained, Abasio explained, Justinian explained, the war is not over, the sea is still closed, this is an exceptional arrival. In the end, rumor won. The people had decided the war was over. Xulai wondered if the people might not be right. Though she had never discussed it with either her grandfather or her sea father, there seemed to be little reason to continue the ban, if for no other reason than to expedite the movement of sea eggs among the various parts of the world where they were needed and wanted. Lok-i-xan had advised that they must be wary of too much inbreeding. In each place where sea eggs originated, at least half of them should move away into other areas with unrelated populations. Many of those were across the sea. Of course, though such places were a very long distance from Tingawa, they were not across a sea from Tingawa. Perhaps that was the real reason why ships should not travel until the monster was dead, Xulai thought.