Watson, Ian - Black Current 03 (2 page)

 
          
The idea was
not
that I should actually proclaim to visitors, even though Td had
a fair amount of practice at this while I was a cherub in Venezia. Visitors
were expected to buy my book, to receive my message. They practically had to
flash a copy to gain admission. And by now Chanoose and I (and Dad) had sorted
out the vexed question of royalties, not wholly to my satisfaction. . . .

 
          
A word about this.
The guild had invested heavily in me; so the cost must be amortized. One source
of revenue was straight donations to the temple. Another was entrance fees to
our house—cash which seemed to be swallowed up in the cost of caretaking! A
third source was profit from my book, less the six per cent which I could keep
as my private purse. This was a far cry from the fifty-fifty split which
Chanoose had brashly offered at my graveside; but then circumstances had
altered radically, hadn't they? As financial consultant to
myself
and the temple, Dad actually concurred in this arrangement, though he insisted
on a fatter split in a few years' time. Meanwhile he and Mum were living free.
As was I.
And what could I possibly spend money on? If I did
set my heart on something, said he, far better to soak the temple for expenses
and keep my purse intact. (True, temple expenses would have to be met from the
same sources—and I later discovered that such expenses included the cost of
Tam's fare to Pecawar; the guild wasn't picking up the tab.)

 
          
Enough of fins and fish! As I say,
the guild were wary of any proclamations I might make; but I must needs be
present twice a day in my throne room for audiences, with Donnah and a couple
of guards standing by.

 
          
Goodness, did some visitors try my
patience—no matter how goodly a store of that commodity I'd garnered during the
two years while I was pretending to be a normal infant! A stooped old lady would
approach, clutching her copy of the book. She would cast a handful of fins into
the offering bowl,
then
address me as if I was some
fortune teller.

 
          
"My eldest daughter—Shinova, you
know—she died of a fever in Port Barbra these nineteen years since. Did you
meet her in yon
Ka-
store? Is she well
and happy? Will I join her when I die? And it won't be long now, not the way I
felt in my heart this
Winter
. ... I shouldn't want to
go to yon Eeden, and never see my flesh again. If Shinny's in your Ka-store,
give me to drink, child wonder,
tiny
joy!"

 
          
"Have you ever drunk of the
black current before, Mother?"

 
          
"Never."

 
          
"Drink now."

 
          
One of my attendants would present
this old biddy with a slug of darkness in a little glass cup. Exit another
satisfied customer, wiping her lips. Her name and address would be registered
for temple records; she was enrolled.

 
          
Other petitioners were
sharper-brained. Indeed I suppose the majority were, so I shouldn't be too
anecdotal. But I had to pack a lot of people into these sessions, and she was
the sort who stood out.

 
          
Soon a flood of local landlubber
women were joining the new cult; and Chanoose reported delightedly that much
the same was happening in other towns, where proxies of mine administered the
dose. For some reason Guineamoy seemed a tough nut to crack— while north of
Aladalis progress was hampered somewhat by an absence of the black stuff
locally. Barrels of black current had to be boated to Port Firsthome and
beyond.

 
          
"I do hope," I remarked to
Chanoose one day, "that the black current can replenish itself quickly
enough!"

 
          
"How do you mean?"

 
          
"At this rate we might drink it
dry."

 
          
"You can't be serious. We're
only taking a tiny portion. And it's allowing us. No boat sailing out to the
midstream for fresh supplies has met any bother. Besides—"

 
          
"Okay, just a joke."

 
          
"This isn't a joking
matter."

 
          
"Sorry."

 
          
"Our volunteers are working
double-time at Aladalia to supply the northernmost towns."

 
          
"Ah, the brave black current
bucket brigade." I wondered who was paying them.
Me,
probably.

 
          
"Yes, brave indeed! But we
aren't rushing recklessly."

 
          
"I didn't suppose you would
be."

           
"Still,
we'll have to start enrolling men before too long; or we might lose impetus.
That reminds me: this fellow of yours, Tam, is starting upstream soon. He's
booked passage."

 
          
"Glad to hear it. But
not
so glad that the one thing reminds
you of the other! I recall you fancying how my father's might be a convenient
toe to dip in the water, to see if he got stung. So it's to be Tam's toe now:
is that your idea?"

 
          
"It'll have to be
some
man's toe, sooner or later. Will
the current accept men? Thereby hangs our whole enterprise in the long run.
Obviously the man in question should be somebody you're close to, so that the
current can share your concern. Speaking of which: have there been any
intimations
lately, which you've neglected to mention?
Any messages, contacts?"

 
          
"I've been a little busy of
late, Chanoose. Or hadn't you noticed?"

 
          
"Not when you're asleep, you
haven't. I don't think you're trying. It's a priestess's duty to mediate with .
. . whatever she's priestess of."

 
          
"So maybe the
Worm's still mulling over all I told it."

 
          
"You could enquire."

 
          
"I'm bloody tired when I get to
bed. I probably sleep too deeply. I'm only going on three years old, remember?
And maybe our Worm has its work cut out with all these
Kas
pouring in."

 
          
"Rubbish. Women aren't dropping
dead just because they drink the current."

 
          
"Okay, okay. Yawn, yawn. So
when's Tam due to sail? Not, I hasten to add, so that he can become the first
male toe in the water!"

 
          
"In a week or
so."

 
          
It was Peli who arrived in Pecawar
first; and what a reunion that was.

 
          
The last time we'd seen each other
was when the nameless ketch, renamed
Yaleen,
sailed me out to the Worm's head up beyond Tambi- matu. But naturally I wasn't
the same Yaleen as Peli had bidden adieu to back then. My face was another's.
And I had shrunk considerably! So when Peli bustled into my quarters late one
afternoon, shown the way by Lana, one of the guards, my friend halted as if
aghast at what she beheld—she was hamming it up a bit—then she burst out into
joyful laughter.

 
          
"Oh I
knew!"
she whooped. "But
it's
one thing knowing, and another thing seeing!" She snatched me up into the
air and spun round, hugging me; which almost made Lana have a fit.

 
          
"Hey,
hey!"
I protested. "I'm
fragile. I break easy."

 
          
"What:
you?"

 
          
"Okay, so I'm not
particularly."

 
          
"Only when you
had a hangover!"

 
          
"But I have me, um, dignity to
think about." And I winked full in her big red burly face, loving the
sight of it.

 
          
"You may depart," I told
Lana; who did.

 
          
"Quite the
princess!"
Peli declared.

 
          
"You mean priestess. You don't
mind, do you, Peli?"

 
          
"What, mind you being a
priestess?"

 
          
"No, you noddle.
Mind being dragged all the way here.
Being hauled off the
river.
I need friends, Peli."

 
          
She had sobered. "I guessed as
much. What for?" she whispered.

 
          
"I'm hemmed in. I'm smothered
with attention.
Watched.
Just yet I don't know what's
best to do—"

 
          
"But when you do, I'll be here
to help." Peli looked round my quarters, noting the child-size bed, the
profusion of flockity rugs to cushion any falls, the doors to the river
verandah with their great bolts set out of reach, my bookcase crammed with Ajelobo
romances, my antique ivorybone scritoire with a pile of blank paper and a pot
of ink in it. . . .

 
          
"Wondering where I keep my
toys?"

 
          
She grinned. "Wondering where
you keep the booze."

 
          
"Aha." I headed for the
brass bell mounted over my bed and clanged it. Lana reappeared speedily.
"What'll it be, then?" I asked Peli.

 
          
"A drop of ginger spirit
wouldn't come amiss."

 
          
"A bottle of," I told Lana.
"Plus
a spiced
ale for myself."

 
          
"A small
one?"

 
          
"But of course."

 
          
Lana nodded, and soon returned with
the drinks on a copper tray. Peli and I settled to talk the rest of the
afternoon away; and the evening too till dinner time.

 
          
Peli had of course noted the pile of
paper waiting to be inked. "Another book?" she enquired eventually.
I thought it had taken her rather a long while to ask.
"Mmm.
This time I think it would be wise to make
two
copies."

 
          
"Why's that?"

 
          
"One to
smuggle out.
Somehow or other."

 
          
"Oh, the guard frisked me on the
way in—looking for hidden hatchets or bludgeons, I thought. Do you mean it's
the same when you leave? Hey, I do
get
out,
don't I? I mean, I'm allowed into town?"

 
          
"You're allowed. No problem. But
they'll be leery of what you might take out
with
you. Nobody could slip a whole wad of paper past the guard, and page by page'll
take ages. Still, a page at a time is how the copy'll have to be made if prying
eyes aren't to see."

 
          
"Sounds
difficult."
Peli glanced at the verandah door.

 
          
"They keep an eye on the water.
No rowboat could sneak up."

 
          
"Sounds
downright impossible."

 
          
"Oh, come off it. Is this Peli
talking? There's bound to be a way. But the first stage is to get the copy
made—whilst I'm busy writing the damn book."

 
          
She looked unaccountably troubled.
"Is this new book of yours really so important?"

 
          
"Oh, merely to untold millions
of people on lots of other worlds, whose brains the Godmind means to
fry.
Just
that
important."

 
          
"Hmm.
Important enough."

 
          
"Right now we're only intent on
saving ourselves. No one but me has any concept of other worlds."

 
          
"Yes I know that, but do you
honestly think a book could alter anything? That's what I wonder." Peli
poured herself more ginger spirit, a bit urgently. Myself, I'd long since
quaffed my spiced ale. Any more booze at the moment would send a little girl to
sleep; though with dinner to soak it up I might manage
another
small
ale later. "I mean, for starters there's the whole problem of
how to get our own
men
into the
/Ta-store! Not to mention that mob on the west bank. Aren't you being too
ambitious.
I honestly don't see what any of us could
do
for a hundred other worlds."
(That was two "honestly'^ in the span of a minute. So what was Peli being
;shonest
about?)