A Covenant of Justice (39 page)

“You need me, Lady Zillabar. You and I both know it. Who else has the family rank necessary to stand as your mate?”

Zillabar's face flushed with rage. “If I could prove that you had a hand in Lord Drydel's death, you wouldn't dare the presumption to ask such a question.”

d'Vashti said, “Nevertheless, the fact remains. And when the day finally comes that I mount you, I expect to hear you cry out with such pleasure and delight that the mirrors on the walls will shatter. We will have such a mating, it will resound as a legend for all future generations—your sons and mine will own the Palethetic Cluster.”

Zillabar remained speechless in the face of his words. She couldn't believe his audacity. She turned away, unwilling to dignify d'Vashti's remarks with an answer.

d'Vashti rang for the attendants. “You'll wish to bathe, to feed, to relax in dreamtime. I will see that no one disturbs you.” To the attendants, he said, “See that the Lady has everything she needs. And see that no one visits her without my permission.”

He bowed again to the Lady as graciously as he could, and then strode out, sweeping his cape around him imperiously.

Zillabar fumed as the servant-wasps swarmed around her. She knew what had happened. She had traded one prison for another. And from this one, she knew, she would not find as easy an escape.

Later.

Night never came to the Forum. But periods of darkness did occur, and most diurnal individuals used that darkness as the equivalent of night. Most slept, but many of those who enjoyed keeping nocturnal hours would often go out and sit under the stars. Oftentimes, they indulged in long thoughtful discussions. Others enjoyed more personal and intimate pursuits.

And some, just wanted a little peace and quiet.

Far away from the more-traveled parts of the disk—at least, as far as remained possible on this tiny diskworld—Harry Mertz sat alone on a stone bench in a secluded clearing. To a casual observer, Harry appeared so still that he seemed either dead or asleep.

He remained that way for quite some time.

After a while, Harry opened his eyes and looked at William Three-Dollar, sitting on the bench opposite.

“Hello,” Harry said. He waited for Three-Dollar's quiet response.

“I sat down here a half hour ago,” said Three-Dollar.

Harry nodded. “I heard you sit down. If you had needed to talk to me sooner, you'd have spoken.”

“You know too much about medicine, too much about law, too much about the history of the Regency—and now I discover that you also practice the disciplines of the Zyne masters. You wear the robe of an Arbiter, but I know that you have played many more roles than that in your life.”

Harry smiled. “You've lived more lives than me. Or rather, your TimeBand has.”

“On the contrary, old man. I recognize you. You can stop pretending. You and I—we don't need to do this charade.” Three-Dollar tapped his TimeBand. “I know you. I recognize you, Harry Mertz. The name has changed, but not the face, not the voice, not the cunning. I know you.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I guess you do. All the TimeBinders do.” He smiled gently, sadly. “I wondered if it would happen, if any of you would recognize me. I guess I should have expected it. I thought I could stay away, I knew I couldn't. I hoped I could come here only to observe, but I knew I wouldn't. Do any of the others know?”

“We
all
know. We selected me to come and speak to you. We want to know where you've gone all these years?”

Harry shrugged. “I've wandered the Cluster. Where else would I have gone?”

“But—” Three-Dollar looked puzzled.

Harry explained. “I've traveled from world to world, paying my way with the labor of my hands, my heart, my back, by mind, whatever the market will buy. I've stood under a thousand different skies, met the most amazing people, sung the most wonderful songs, and cried the most terrible fears and sorrows.

“I've dug ditches, I've waited tables, I've strung wires, I've driven wagons, I've piloted boats, I've cast my nets in the cold waters of the north, I've panned for gold in the hot south, I've peddled news, I've strung words together for tuppence and ha'pennies, I've slung hash—both dirtside and in the galley of a tramp freighter—what more do you wish to know?

“I've peddled my wares door to door, and I've worked behind the golden counters of the most elegant establishments, I've counseled the poor on how to earn more money and the rich on how to spend it foolishly, I've built automobiles, I've destroyed them, I've taken them apart and put them back together again, I've worked as a tube-man on the interplanetary runs, I've climbed the monkey cages with the best of them, I've labored as a member of the black hole gang on more ships than I can remember, I've established six Guilds, helped run over a dozen, and I've busted three, I've made speeches, led parades, roused the rabble, and raised the dead. I've healed the sick, comforted the dying, helped the bereaved. I've delivered babies, taught schools, raised children, trained parents, and coached both the successful and the failures of a hundred different worlds.

“I've done all of that and less. But you know more than me, because you carry the memories in your TimeBand, and I carry nothing but stories. Yes, I've studied law and medicine and physics and humanity. Of them all, humanity remains the most interesting. All right, yes. I acknowledge all of that. What do you want from me?”

“Why haven't you made yourself known to us, Father?”

“Don't call me that.” Harry looked annoyed. And then he answered the question anyway. “I have no value to you. And you have no need of me.”

“No. We have
every
need of you. We have memories from fifty generations back, of a man who looks like you, speaks like you, thinks like you—a man who gave us wisdom, and then vanished. The long-liner, the leaper through the years—the wandering Jew, the man who doesn't die, the immortal. Harry, we created the TimeBinders so we could have the benefits of that kind of perspective available to the rest of humanity. But we needed you for the control. And you abandoned us.”

“No, I didn't abandon you. I gave you freedom. Had I stayed around, making a nuisance of myself, you would have deferred to me for a thousand years, and then you would have all started hating me for not having the good grace to die and get out of the way. By disappearing, I gave you the opportunity to invent yourselves as something altogether new. And you did.”

“But you helped create the TimeBinders. You saw the Regency born, you saw how it spread—you helped spread the word. You witnessed the beginnings of the Phaestor, and all the other adapted and augmented humans—and all the constructed species too. Harry, your immortality may seem a curse to you, but to the rest of us, you represent the gift of connection to our own ancient past.”

“No,” said Harry, a little too quickly. “You see and hear only what you want to see and hear. You've turned me into a legend. You've made me a thing apart—a myth. Listen to me. Even TimeBinders can fall prey to their own emotions. You've given me the burden of a reputation of wisdom and grace much too great for any person to ever have to live up to.”

William Three-Dollar ignored Harry's plea. “Harry, I know you as a holy man. We all know it. You can't deny it.” He dropped to his knees before the white-robed old man and bowed his head. “Father, forgive us our sins. Give us your blessings. Speak to this Gathering.”

Harry grabbed Three-Dollar by the shoulders and yanked him to his feet. “Listen to me, you stupid son-of-a-bitch. If you ever say that again in front of another person, I'll punch your heart out. I'll rip your lungs out through your nose. I'll tear your fucking head off! Don't you dare turn me or anything I say into a religion! You screw things up that way. Every time! You start wars that way. Every time! I won't let you worship me. I'll catch the first ship out of here, rather than let you add one more dollop of misery to the human condition. Don't you ever again call me holy-man!”

“Your holiness shines through, Father. You can't deny it.”

“Goddammit! Don't confuse holiness with age. I have no more holiness than anyone else!”

But William Three-Dollar remained unconvinced. “You may believe that all you want, Harry, but you can't escape the truth. Both you and I know it. And both you and I know what you have to do to have this Gathering succeed.”

Harry stared at Three-Dollar, almost horrified. “Go to hell,” he said. He turned and walked away into the darkness, shaking with fear as much as anger.

By the time of the first session, over a thousand vessels had arrived at the Forum, carrying representatives from over ten thousand worlds. The disk swarmed with a multiplicity of languages, cultures, species, breeds, and political positions. Walking through the gathering crowds, Sawyer and Finn gaped in wonder at all the varieties. They identified several species of bioforms they'd never seen before, some new forms of animaloid cyborgs, and a delegation of reconstructed humanides. They also saw large numbers of robots, lektroids, demonics, androgynes, Zetabeds, Meta-Lunans, Andalorians, Informants, Kasimirs, Rashids, and Loyers. More than once, they stopped to stare at forms of alien and created life that they could not identify at all.

Likewise, many of those same individuals also stopped to stare in wonder at Sawyer and Finn, some even so bold as to approach them and ask, “Unreconstructed humans, yes? May I touch you? Photograph please?”

Elsewhere on the disk, Ibaka had found a delegation of his own species; a pack of adult canines, accompanied by several children like himself. He barked in joy when he saw them, and went careening madly across the lawns, yipping in wild enthusiasm. Kask rumbled slowly after, suspicious and wary.

The dog-people stared upward at Kask in alarm, their hackles rising all along their spines—they knew their history too well—but Ibaka scampered back to Kask and jumped proudly up into his arms and announced to his new friends, “Kask saved me from Vampires. Kask saved me. Kask, look—I've found people like me!”

The dogs gathered around the Dragon warily; but the children overcame their hesitation first. If Ibaka could climb safely into the Dragon's hands, then surely they could approach close enough to tough his huge green tail. The parents barked and growled at their children, but listened with interest when Ibaka began to explain. When Kask told of his part in the massacre at the Dragon camp, the dogs began to look up at him with new respect and even wonder.

At one point, however, one of the other dog-children looked up in alarm and wailed. On a nearby rise, three Phaestor boys stood and studied them thoughtfully, perhaps even . . . hungrily. Two of the larger dogs stood up, growling; but Kask lumbered to his feet and turned toward the Vampires with a distinctly angry expression on his face. The boys hesitated, then turned and ambled away—not for a moment revealing their inner faces.

Elsewhere on the disk, Shariba-Jen sat on a workbench in a daisy chain of repairs. Before him, he had the back of another robot open and exposed to his probing tools. Behind him, a third machine had opened his back to likewise tinker with Jen's innards. “Yes,” it said. “I think I can trim this. You'll notice an immediate improvement in your flexor rods.”

“Jen, I have a question for you,” said the machine in front. “I've heard that you'll have to seek a new posting soon. We might have room on
The Mangled Logic
. If you wish, I could arrange a meeting with captain Jhimmie.”

Jen did not reply. The machine behind him spoke up instead. “Everyone has heard the heard rumors about
The Lady MacBeth
's troubles, Jen. I've even heard that Regency marshals intend to serve a warrant of foreclosure on Captain Campbell before the Gathering concludes. If you'll allow me to advise you, you'd do well to find yourself another ship. You should do it soon. If the court sees your indenture as part of the assets of the corporation, you could end up in foreclosure too. I wouldn't like to see that happen to you.”

“Thank you for your concern,” said Shariba-Jen. “I will consider your suggestions at length.”

“Please do.”

Elsewhere on the disk, Harry Mertz walked with two TimeBinders—one, a thin, frail-looking man; the other, a heavy-gravity woman with the musculature of a bull.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he said to them.

“We do it to honor you, Father.”

“Don't honor me. I've had enough honors for a hundred lifetimes. Now I have more important things to do than to listen to any more acknowledgment. If I had had the good grace to drop dead a thousand years ago, you would have long ago put your memories of me into the proper perspective. Now, please just give me a little simple courtesy, and that will suffice to please a cranky old man. Now, come with me. I want to show you something.” He led them to the largest meeting place on the Forum, the central amphitheater, a place of cylindrical speaking pedestals that rose up from the floor to make the speaker visible all over the bowl-shaped arena.

“Imagine a place that looks like this,” said Harry. “Imagine a place constructed to honor this Forum—now imagine that a corrupt government has turned such a place into a detainment, filled the arena with water, filled the water with carnivorous beasts, and marooned their most feared political prisoners on the pedestals. Periodically, for the amusement of the guards, they cause one pedestal or another to sink slowly into the water, putting the prisoners at the mercy of the beasts. Imagine that they do this as a deliberate mockery of the Gathering.”

The two TimeBinders listened to Harry's words with pained expressions. “Surely, you exaggerate. We've heard the rumors too, but—”

“I have brought with me six witnesses. Kask, a Dragon; Ota, a bioform; Lee-1169, a clone-brother; Sawyer and Finn Markham, trackers; Arl-N, a poet. And I have seen it myself. The Kernel of the Phaestor aristocracy, d'Vashti himself—and the Lady Zillabar—imprisoned me in the Old City detainment of Thoska Roole, a place that exists exactly as I have described. Listen to me, and listen well. The Phaestor have desecrated their own Forums on a hundred separate worlds. They will desecrate this one, if they have the chance.”