To Your Scattered Bodies Go (21 page)

"With stone knives, no chemicals, no microscopes, what kind of a report can you expect?" Steinborg said. "But I'll do my best." The body was carried off.

Burton said, "I'm glad he didn't force us to admit we were bluffing. If he had kept his mouth shut, he could have defeated us."

"Then you really weren't going to torture him?" Frigate said. "I was hoping you didn't mean your threat. If you had, I was going to walk out then and there and never see any of you again."

"Of course we didn't mean it," Ruach said. "Spruce would have been right. We'd have been no better than Goring. But we could have tried other means. Hypnotism for instance. Burton, Monat, and Steinborg were experts in that field."

"The trouble is, we still don't know if we did get the truth," Targoff said. "Actually, he may have been lying. Monat supplied some guesses, and, if these were wrong, Spruce could have led us astray by agreeing with Monat. I'd say we can't be at all sure." They agreed on one thing. Their chances of detecting another agent through the absence of symbols on the forehead would be gone. Now that They - whoever They were - knew about the visibility of the characters to Kazz's species, They would take the proper measures to prevent detection.

Steinborg returned three hours later. "There is nothing to distinguish him from any other member of Homo sapiens. Except this one little device." He held up a black shiny ball about the size of a matchhead.

"I located this on the surface of the forebrain. It was attached to some nerves by wires so thin that I could see them only at a certain angle, when they caught the light. It's my opinion that Spruce killed himself by means of this device and that he did so by literally thinking himself dead. Somehow, this little ball translated a wish for death into the deed. Perhaps, it reacted to the thought by releasing a poison which I do not have facilities for analyzing." He concluded his report and passed the ball around to the others.

Thirty days later, Burton, Frigate, Ruach, and Kazz were returning from a trip UpRiver. It was just before dawn.

The cold heavy mists that piled up to six or seven feet above The River in the latter part of the night swirled around them. They could not see in any direction further than a strong man might make a standing broad jump. But Burton, standing in the prow of the bamboo hulled single-masted boat, knew they were close to the western shore. Near the relatively shallow depths the current ran more slowly, and they had just steered to port from the middle of The River.

If his calculations were correct, they should be close to the ruins of Goering's hall. At any moment, he expected to see a strip of denser darkness appear out of the dark waters, the banks of that land he now called home. Home, for Burton, had always been a place from which to sally forth, a resting-place, a temporary fortress in which to write a book about his last expedition, a lair in which to heal fresh hurts, a conning tower from which he looked out for new lands to explore.

Thus, only two weeks after the death of Spruce, Burton had felt the need to get to some place other than the one in which he now was. He heard a rumor that copper had been discovered on the western shore about a hundred miles UpRiver. This was a length of shore of not more than twelve miles, inhabited by fifth century B.C. Sarmatians and thirteenth-century A.D. Frisians.

Burton did not really think the story was true - but it gave him an excuse to travel. Ignoring Alice's pleas to take her with him, he had set off.

Now, a month later and after some adventures, not all unpleasant, they were almost home. The story had not been entirely unfounded. There was copper but only in minute amounts. So the four had gotten into their boat for the easy trip down current, their sail pushed by the never ceasing wind. They journeyed during the daytime and beached the boat during mealtimes wherever there were friendly people who did not mind strangers using their grailstones. At night they either slept among the friendlies or, if in hostile waters, sailed by in the darkness.

The last leg of their trip was made after the sun went down. Before getting home they had to pass a section of the valley where slave-hungry eighteenth-century Mohawks lived on one side and equally greedy Carthaginians of the third century B.C. on the other. Having slipped through under cover of the fog, they were almost home.

Abruptly, Burton said, "There's the bank. Pete, lower the mast! Kazz, Lev, back oars! Jump to it!" A few minutes later, they had landed and had pulled the lightweight craft completely out of the water and upon the gently sloping shore. Now that they were out of the mists, they could see the sky paling above the eastern mountains.

Dead reckoning come alive!" Burton said. "We're ten paces beyond the grailstone near the ruins!" He scanned the bamboo huts along the plain and the buildings evident in the long grasses and under the giant trees of the hills.

Not a single person was to be seen. The valley was asleep.

He said, "Don't you think it's strange that no one's up yet? Or that we've not been challenged by the sentinels?" Frigate pointed toward the lookout tower to their right.

Burton swore and said "They're asleep, by God, or deserted their post" but he knew as he spoke that this was no case of dereliction of duty. Though he had said nothing to the others about it, the moment he had stepped ashore, he had been sure something was very wrong. He began running across the plain toward the but in which he and Alice lived.

Alice was sleeping on the bamboo-and-grass bed on the right side of the building. Only her head was visible, for she was curled up under a blanket of towels fastened to each other by the magnetic clasps. Burton threw the blanket back, got down on his knees by the low bed, and raised her to a sitting position. Her head lolled forward, and her arms hung limply. But she had a healthy color and breathed normally.

Burton called her name three times. She slept on. He slapped both her cheeks sharply; red splotches sprang up on them. Her eyelids fluttered, then she went back to sleep.

By then Frigate and Ruach appeared. "We've looked into some of the other huts," Frigate said. "They're all asleep. I tried to wake a couple of them, but they're out for the count.

"What's wrong?" Burton said, "Who do you think has the power or the need to do this?

"Spruce!"

"Spruce and his kind, Whoever They are!"

"Why?" Frigate sounded frightened.

"They were looking for me! They must have come in under the fog, somehow put this whole area to sleep!"

"A sleep-gas would do it easily enough," Ruach said. "Although people who have powers such as Theirs could have devices we've never dreamed of."

"They were looking for me!" Burton shouted.

"Which means, if true, that They may be back tonight," Frigate said. "But why would They be searching for you?"

Ruach replied for Burton. "Because he, as far as we know, was the only man to awaken in the pre-resurrection phase. Why he did is a mystery. But it's evident something went wrong. It may also be a mystery to Them. I'd be inclined to think They've been discussing this and finally decided to come here. Maybe to kidnap Burton for observation - or some more sinister purpose."

"Possibly. They wanted to erase from my memory all that I'd seen in that chamber of floating bodies," Burton said. "Such a thing should not be beyond Their science."

"But you've told that story to many," Frigate said. "They couldn't possibly track down all those people and remove the memory of your story from their minds."

"Would that be necessary? How many believe my tale? Sometimes I doubt it myself."

Ruach said, "Speculation is fruitless. What do we do now?" Alice shrieked, "Richard!" and they turned to see her sitting up and staring at them.

For a few minutes, they could not get her to understand what had happened. Finally she said, "So that's why the fog covered the land, too! I thought it was strange, but of course I had no way of knowing what was really happening." Burton said, "Get your grails. Put anything you want to take along in your sack. We're leaving as of now. I want to get away before the others awake."

Alice's already large eyes became even wider. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere from here. I don't like to run away but I can't stand up and fight people like that. Not if They know where I am. I'll tell you, however, what I plan to do. I intend to find the end of The River. It must have an inlet and an outlet, and there must be a way for a man to get through to the source. If there's any way at all, I'll find it - you can bet your soul on that!'

"Meanwhile, They'll be looking for me elsewhere - I hope. The fact that They didn't find me here makes me think that They have no means for instantly locating a person. They may have branded us like cattle" - he indicated the invisible symbols on his forehead - "but even cattle have mavericks. And we're cattle with brains." He turned to the others. "You're more than welcome to come along with me. In fact, I'd be honored."

"I'll get Monat," Kazz said. "He wouldn't want to be left behind."

Burton grimaced and said, "Good old Monat! I hate to do this to him, but there's no helping it. He can't come along. He's too distinguishable. Their agents would have no trouble at all in locating anybody who looked like him. I'm sorry, but he can't"

Tears stood in Kazz's eyes, then ran down his bulging cheekbones. In a choked voice, he said, "Burton-naq, I can't go either. I look too different, too."

Burton felt tears wet his own eyes. He said, "We'll take that chance. After all, there must be plenty of your type around. We've seen at least thirty or more during our travels."

"No females so far, Burton-naq," Kazz said mournfully. Then he smiled. "Maybe we find one when we go along The River." As quickly, he lost his grin. "No, damn it, I don't go! I can't hurt Monat too much. Him and me, others think we ugly and spry looking. So we become good friends. He's not my naq, but he's next to it I stay." He stepped up to Burton, hugged him in a grip that forced Burton's breath out in a great whoosh, released him, shook hands with the others, making them wince, then turned and shuffled off.

Ruach, holding his paralyzed hand, said. "You're off on a fool's errand, Burton. Do you realize that you could sail on this River for a thousand years and still be a million miles or more from the end? I'm staying. My people need me. Besides, Spruce made it clear that we should be striving for a spiritual perfection, not fighting Those who gave us a chance to do so." Burton's teeth flashed whitely in his dark face. He swung his grail as if it were a weapon.

"I didn't ask to be put here any more than I asked to be born on Earth, I don't intend to kowtow to another's dictates I mean to find The River's end. And if I don't, I will at least have had fun and learned much on the way!" By then, people were beginning to stumble out of their huts as they yawned and rubbed heavy eyes. Ruach paid no attention to them; he watched the craft as it set sail close-hauled to the wind, cutting across and up The River. Burton was handling the rudder; he turned once and waved the grail so that the sun bounced off it in many shining spears.

Ruach thought that Burton was really happy that he had been forced to make this decision. Now he could evade the deadly responsibilities that would come with governing this little state and could do what he wanted. He could set out on the greatest of all his adventures.

"I suppose it's for the best," Ruach muttered to himself. "A man may find salvation on the road, if he wants to, just as well as he may at home. It's up to him. Meanwhile, I, like Voltaire's character - what was his name? Earthly things are beginning to slip away from me - will cultivate my own little garden." He paused to look somewhat longingly after Burton.

"Who knows? He may some day run into Voltaire." He sighed, then smiled.

"On the other hand, Voltaire may some day drop in on me!"

"I hate you, Hermann Goring!" The voice sprang out and then flashed away as if it were a gear tooth meshed with the cog of another man's dream and rotated into and then out of his dream.

Riding the crest of the hypnotic state, Richard Francis Burton knew he was dreaming. But he was helpless to do anything about it.

The first dream returned.

Events were fuzzy and encapsulated. A lightning streak of himself in the unmeasurable chamber of floating bodies; another flash of the nameless Custodians finding him and putting him back to sleep; then a jerky synopsis of the dream he had had just before the true Resurrection on the banks of The River.

God - a beautiful old man in the clothes of a mid-Victorian gentleman of means and breeding - was poking him in the ribs with an iron cane and telling him that he owed for the flesh.

"What? What flesh?" Burton said, dimly aware that he was muttering in his sleep. He could not hear his words in the dream.

"Pay up!" God said. His face melted, then was recast into Burton's own features.

God had not answered in the first dream five years before. He spoke now, "Make your Resurrection worth my while, you fool! I have gone to great expense and even greater pains to give you, and all those other miserable and worthless wretches, a second chance."

"Second chance at what?" Burton said. He felt frightened at what God might answer. He was much relieved when God the All-Father - only now did Burton see that one eye of Jahweh-Odin was gone and out of the empty socket glared the flames of hell - did not reply. He was gone - no, not gone but metamorphosed into a high gray tower, cylindrical and soaring out of gray mists with the roar of the sea coming up through the mists.