Lin Carter - Down to a Sunless Sea (16 page)

Brant awoke a time later when a large hand was laid upon his naked shoulder, then removed.' He sat up on one elbow to find Tuan squatting on his heels nearby, looking at him gravely.

"Well, what is it that the chieftain Tuan wishes of Brant?" he asked, using the more polite and formal mode of the Tongue.

"Tuan has conferred with his warriors," said the other gruffly. "All of us are being borne away into slavery; there is no other answer to the question of why the Strange Ones captured us and are carrying us away."

"Brant doubts the truth of that supposition, but continue."

"The children are without weapons—even the strange spears they bear are used only for the control of their riding-beasts," observed the chieftain. Brant nodded: he had examined one of the lances, finding the flat, leaf-shaped blade dull, with neither edge nor point that was sharp enough to do injury.

"Say on."

"It is true, even as Brant has spoken, that to fire upon the children would cause a warrior to lose Honor," muttered Tuan. "But we are all stronger than they are, being grown men and women, and can overpower them with ease, merely binding them. Then we can return to the place of the stair ..."

"How does Tuan plan to run the ship?" countered Brant. "Do the warriors of Tuan's band, stalwart and brave men all, as Brant has no doubt, think to ride the flying-beasts?"

Tuan opened his mouth, then blinked once or twice, eyes dulling. Obviously, he had not thought of that.

"And is Tuan certain of the direction in which the ship must travel, for us to return to the place of the stair?" continued Brant. He knew very well that the People had a mysterious, inborn sense of direction that was often uncanny to Earthsiders, but he doubted if the instinct would work very well down here.

"We ... ah ... need only go back in the opposite direction," said Tuan, but he sounded uncertain.

"It seems to Brant that we may have changed direction slightly, or more than slightly, when we slept or feasted or conversed, ceasing to notice such things."

"What, then, does Brant suggest? Does he wish to become the slave of careless children, and he a grown man, even a warrior of sorts?"

"It is the suggestion of Brant that there be truce between us, the warriors of Tuan and those who accompanied Brant hither, for the time being. Once we have arrived at our destination, whatever it is, there will be time enough to take such actions as seem best to us all. Remember," he added, falling out of the formal mode of speech and into the vernacular, "the children have not disarmed your warriors, O Tuan. I doubt if they even realize the guns are weapons. So we will get to where we're going with our arms intact and ready."

Squatting there, humming a tuneless song under his breath, Tuan chewed it over, finally nodding.

Rising to his feet, he said, "It shall be as Brant advises. A truce—for now."

"And remember one thing I mentioned earlier," Brant said. "We don't know what strange powers these people may have—"

With a nod of acquiescence, Tuan stalked off to rejoin his band.

And Brant went back to sleep.

He was awakened suddenly by a shrill chorus of cries of alarm and consternation. Spring to his feet, he stared around him so as to discover the cause of the commotion. It took him only moments to spot the thing that had alarmed the children.

For, rising out of the luminous sea was something resembling the sea-slugs the flying hunters had captured for their larder. The main difference was the matter of
size.
While the hunters' prey had been no bigger than small dogs, this sea-slug—if that is what it actually was—must have been the great-grand-daddy of them all, for it was as big around as a house, and must have been three hundred feet long.

Like the smaller versions they had seen earlier, its jellylike flesh was lucent to the point of transparency. As it broke the waves again, heaving its glistening, glassy bulk high, he saw that it was blind and faceless, save for a wet, working sphincter-like orifice which must have served it as mouth.

It looked harmless enough, for all its appalling size. But the sheer tonnage of the sea-monster could easily swamp or crush their flimsy vessel.

Will Harbin and the others joined him at the rail, staring with wide eyes at the huge sea-thing, while the golden children squealed and milled in confusion.

Tuan and his warriors came to the rail, hefting their power guns determinedly. Brant grabbed the chieftain's arm.

"Don't fire unless the monster heads in our direction," he said in urgent tones. "These people have not yet recognized what we carry as being weapons. Why let them find out so soon?"

Tuan nodded grimly, muttering a curt order to his outlaws.

But, as things turned out, the energy weapons were not needed, although suddenly the monstrous sea-slug turned and came for the ship.

Some of the older youths had gone down into the cabins, and now came pelting up the stair holding strange objects in their right hands. These looked for all the world like glass doorknobs, with a rod small enough to hold in the palm of your hand and pointed knobs at either end.

These peculiar implements were carved from some dark, cloudy semilucent mineral that rather resembled lead-crystal, except that within the pointed knobs an eerie spark of blue flame flickered.

The youths pointed the crystal rods at the sea-beast as it came wallowing through the sluggish waves toward the ship.

Brant uttered an exclamation. Zuarra clutched his arm. Harbin stared wildly.

Darts of blue fire shot from the points of the crystal weapons, to stab and burn the jellied flesh of the sea-monster! Its sphincter-like maw opened and shut as if gasping in pain. It writhed, shrinking from the needle-thin bolts of uncanny blue fire. Then it turned away, sinking beneath the surface, and did not reappear.

The travelers looked at one another, wordless.

The youths watched vigilantly for a time, but when the giant slug failed to emerge a second time, they went below to the storage-space to return the strange weapons to their place.

Shaken, Tuan looked at Brant with something like a touch of admiration in his eyes.

"Wise were the counsels of Brant, when he gave warning to Tuan against using our weapons against the children, saying that we knew not what powers they might possess," he said unsteadily.

Brant nodded. So, the ship-people had energy weapons of their own! That was something to think about. . . .

The City on the Sea

The next "day" the ship arrived at its destination, and Mars had yet another marvel to reveal.

It was a town of huts large enough to be called a city, and the buildings, which were mostly one-story structures, with a few that reached to two or three stories, were woven, like the ship, out of stiff fibers like wicker or rattan fastened to frames of thicker girth.

But that was not what made the place a marvel.

It was
floating
on the surface of the luminous sea!

The structures of the city were built on rafts, some of these being so small as only to be able to accommodate one hut, while others seemed nearly as big as city blocks back Earthside.

The rafts of all sizes were linked together by rope-bridges suspended from posts, or by ladders and catwalks, and the rafts were held together in the floating colony by thick braided cables and lines.

On Earth such a maritime metropolis could hardly have held together for long, but would have been broken up by the action of wind and wave, storm and tide. Here in this weird world of eternal morning, of course, there were no waves to speak of and the weather seemed perpetually calm, for the travelers had as yet seen no storms. Later they would discover that a gentle rain did fall from time to time, and that the Sea People—as they came to think of the golden subterraneans —collected this precipitation in rooftop troughs to serve as water for drinking, bathing and cooking. Will Harbin could understand the rains easily enough: humidity from the atmosphere collected like dew on the cavern roof and eventually the drops were large enough to make a decent, if mild, little shower.

The floating city was a gorgeous vision as they approached it across the luminous sea. Some of the wicker structures were painted in gay and gaudy profusion of colors that ranged from rose-pink to carnation and vermilion, pale blue, rich greens, indigo, lavender, tangerine—a dazzling variety of colors that made the incredible place look like an elfin city in a fairy tale.

Flags and banners and pennons fluttered from rooftops and gateposts and masts. Gorgeous silken carpets or tapestries hung from every aperture. None of the buildings seemed to have anything like windows, but it seemed that the rattan wall-screens could be fastened and rolled up by an arrangement of ropes and pulleys at wish.

An insubstantial town of Faerie, floating like a mirage on an unknown sea beneath the world. . . .

Their ship moored at the end of a long quay and the travelers and their captors trooped ashore. Here in a sort of harbor, many similar vessels were tethered. Some of these were ships as large as the one that had captured the travelers, while others ranged from the size of canoes and gondolas, down to little dinghys and miniature rafts.

A laughing, cheerful crowd gathered on the dock to greet their returning friends. And here, for the first time, Brant and the others saw the adults of the golden race, discovering the fully-grown of the Sea People to be as naked and hairless as the children had been. The men looked rather soft and languid and effeminate to Brant's way of thinking, and the women tended to be placid and timid, much like Suoli.

It was obvious that the lack of enemies or hostile weather had made the Sea People degenerate over the hundreds of generations since their forefathers had come to the underground world.

The youths were unlading their ship, bringing "ashore" the food they had caught in ceramic jugs. Everyone milled about in happy confusion, staring curiously at Brant and his companions, laughing gaily and chattering among themselves. Many embraced and kissed the mariners as they came ashore, and Brant could not help noticing that, as often as not, youths were kissed by men or other youths, and girls by girls or women. He doubted, from the lascivious nature of this embracing and caressing, that many of these couples were family.

The travelers did not seem to be under any sort of constraint, although bright-eyed young Kirin stuck close to Brant's side throughout the unloading of the ship, and Will Harbin's demure little tutor, Aulli, clung close to the scientist. Brant noticed that she was holding the older man by the hand, and he grinned. A time or two during the voyage he had teased Harbin about his "little girl-friend," at which the old man had sniffed contemptuously, not deigning to honor the remark with reply or denial.

Soon they were led across catwalks and rope-bridges, walking casually right through houses where whole families were busied at domestic tasks. These merely smiled or waved, seemingly undisturbed by their intrusion.
Guess you get used to having no privacy, where anybody can see through the very walls and nobody wears any clothes,
Brant thought.

"What is this place?" he asked young Kirin, who clung gamely to his side through the crush and press of naked bodies.

"It is Zhah," Kirin answered simply. He looked faintly surprised that Brant did not know; but, then, the very concept of
strangers
was a complete novelty to the boy.

"Who is your ruler?"

"Prince Azuri, of the High-Bom," said the boy. "And before him it was Princess Suah, also of the High-Born."

"And who are the High-Born, exactly?" he asked curiously. The boy explained, although he had to fumble a bit to find the proper words, that the High-Born were the noblest of the Seven Clans into which the Sea People were divided. When Brant inquired how many rulers the present dynasty had given to Zhah, Kirin looked baffled, as if the question had no meaning to him.

Later on, they deduced that family relationships were so casual among the Sea People as to be irrelevant. The golden people simply took lovers for a time, before drifting away into another love relationship, and if children were begotten, it was hard to tell to which father. It was difficult for Brant and Harbin to see how any sort of distinct clan-grouping could exist here, where the people seldom if ever knew for certain who their fathers were.

"Maybe they count descent through their mothers, and their mothers' mothers, and so on back," suggested Brant to his companion. Harbin shrugged.

"Hard to imagine a matriarchal society such as the one you suggest being ruled over by a prince," the older man said. "I'll ask Aulli how they work it, when I get a chance."

When they were led before him, Prince Azuri proved to be a slender, girlishly pretty youth of sixteen or so. He wore nothing in the way of regalia that would denote his rank, except that, instead of the partly utilitarian and partly ornamental harness worn by everybody else except for very young children, he wore only gems. These were in the form of necklaces, pectorals, rings on both fingers and toes, anklets, armlets, girdles and bracelets. Among the gems were some with which Brant was already familiar from his years of exploration on the surface, including the ho-katha, or fire-stones, and the rare ziriol, the priceless Martian purple rubies.