Pandora's Genes (32 page)

Yet it must be done. The future of mankind might depend on his escaping and taking what he knew of the Traders back to the Principal. Once again, expediency won: the choosing of one commitment over another. He tried to look at it as a Trader would: as a “scientist,” his mission was to save humanity, and therefore anything in that end was justified. He knew it was true, and he also knew it was wrong.

Billy and the First Bishop came for him just at noon. They stood by as three guards checked Zach for hidden weapons and securely bound his hands in front of him. Billy, grinning nervously, stood by, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Zach was scarcely aware of the others; he was looking at every detail of the cell. He would never see it again. He had resolved that if he failed in his attempt to escape, he would not return here alive.

The escape proved far easier than he had expected. This was partly because of the beauty of the song itself. As Billy had earlier told the Bishop, “This was divinely inspired. He couldn’t have written it if he weren’t sincere.”

And evidently everyone else believed that Zach was now a true Trader. Even the bishops apparently hadn’t seriously considered that he might try to escape. His stirring tribute to Yosh seemed clear proof that Zach would follow Yosh’s commands as scrupulously as any Trader.

For all of the Traders the will of Yosh was everything; Zach was sure that within another generation he would be elevated to the status of a god.

Trader women and children had attached hundreds of summer flowers to the three sides and roof of the shelter above the altar. Zach stumbled as the guards led him across the park. The beauty of the flowers, the grass, and the soft summer air had taken the strength from him.

Scores of congregants, some of whom, according to Billy, had traveled hundreds of miles to be here, sat patiently on the grass, chanting and waiting for the service to begin. Most of them stared at Zach in frank curiosity; Billy had told him that the story of his song had spread quickly, making him famous throughout the Trader empire.

Zach sat on a low wooden bench with the First Bishop and Billy on either side of him, the guards standing at the back. They were armed with knives and swords but seemed as awed by the occasion as everyone else.

The service seemed to take hours, though in truth it probably lasted little longer than the noontime and evening services Zach had often heard from his cell. There were many familiar chants and songs, and the burning, for this special occasion, of three books. Finally Jonna stood to deliver a tribute to Yosh. She was dressed in a long blue hooded robe, and a pale veil partially covered her face. Zach had to admit that she looked almost beautiful as she spoke of her love for Yosh and his love for his people. When she had finished, the First Bishop spoke for a few minutes, retelling the story of Yosh’s revelation and explaining how he had captured and converted Zach, a scientist who had been one of the Principal’s own men. Then it was Zach’s turn.

The silence became total when Zach stood. He stumbled as he got up, and put out his arms, then almost fell. Jonna motioned to the guards and they cut his bonds. Zach hid his relief. It would be easier this way. He did not have to fake the trembling of his knees as he mounted the altar. He looked out at the gathered congregation, opened his mouth, and sang.

When he had finished he could see tears on the faces of those sitting closest to him, including his guards. The First Bishop thanked him and signaled an end to the service, then Traders began to crowd around the altar. Men and women both came to Zach, wanting to touch him, to tell him how much the song had moved him. His guards stood back, while the bishops and Billy looked on, proud. Jonna even came to him and hugged him quickly, her eyes still wet with tears.

After the service a feast had been planned. Zach had assumed he was to be returned to the prison directly after the ceremony, but instead he stayed, continuing to talk to Traders and eating the morsels of food they brought him. After perhaps an hour of this, Zach told his guards that he needed to relieve himself.

They agreed readily, and the youngest of the three escorted Zach to the thick brush in the forest alongside the park. Zach hoped that the town was no bigger than the few buildings he could see. The guard apologized, embarrassed. “I hope you understand that I must stay here. It’s orders.”

“Of course,” said Zach. Politely, the young man looked away while Zach fumbled with his trousers, so he didn’t see the blow aimed at the back of his neck which, Zach hoped, had not killed him. Zach took the knife and sword, then simply walked away. He was certain he would not be missed for several minutes.

The town extended no farther than the length of the park, and in no time Zach was in deep forest. He did not know for certain where he was, only that he was somewhere in the uncharted western wilderness. It was late summer, and there would be a good bit of daylight yet for him to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Traders.

He could imagine the consternation when his deception had been discovered. Billy, he knew, would be heartbroken.

Zach looked at the sun, estimating the time of day and the direction, then began to trot east.

A
FTER SEVERAL WEEKS OF SLOW
traveling, constantly on the lookout for Trader patrols, Zach at last reached the western hills in the south of the District. He planned to go first to the Garden, to see the Mistress if she still lived, and to find out, if he could, what had become of Evvy. He tried not to have any expectations, aware that things must have changed a great deal in the time he had been in prison.

Still, what he found was a greater shock than he was prepared for.

Although he had tried to clean himself as soon as he was well away from the Trader settlement, the grime was too deeply embedded to come off with anything but repeated applications of soap and hot water; the parasites and stench would require a more civilized, or at least leisurely, approach. With his dirt, his unkempt hair and beard, and the rags he was wearing, the men now living in the Garden took him for a Trader.

Zach realized with relief that the Principal must have moved the women to the peninsula for protection; but the guards at the gate arrested him immediately and refused to answer any of his questions. He had hoped to find one of the Principal’s generals in charge, or someone else who would recognize him, but there was no one here that he had ever seen before. He was questioned roughly several times, first by the guards, then their superior, and finally by the Commandant, a ruddy, big-boned man who looked at him with open suspicion as Zach began patiently to tell his story again.

“I am the Principal’s brother,” he said. “I have important information for the Principal. Please help me get to the Capital.” He was standing in the old woman’s cabin, now the Commandant’s office, while the guards who had arrested him flanked him, their weapons ready. Although nothing of the old woman’s remained, he remembered as if he could see them each table and chair, the rows of scientific equipment, and the dozens of shelves of books. The crude furniture and military equipment were jarringly out of place, as were the men, yet even his captors’ distrustfulness couldn’t stop him from feeling somehow at home.

The Commandant was picking his teeth and looking bored. “The Principal’s brother has been dead for years,” he said. “He has no other.”

“I was captured by the Traders,” Zach said with growing exasperation. “I’ve been their prisoner for five years.”

“Traders don’t take male prisoners,” said the Commandant. “Besides, if you’re the Principal’s brother, where’s your seal ring?”

“I lost it,” Zach said, aware how feeble his answer sounded. He spoke again quickly. “If I were really a Trader would I come to you this openly?”

“Who knows what a Trader would do?”

“He’s a filthy Trader spy,” said the Commandant’s aide. “I say let’s hang him right now.”

The Commandant sighed. “Don’t be too quick, Jerrod. Everyone knows how the Principal felt about his brother. Suppose what he says is somehow true?”

The younger man snorted. “Look at him. If that’s the Principal’s brother, I’m my own sister.”

It was clear to Zach that the Commandant didn’t believe him any more than his soldiers did, but the man seemed shrewd enough to realize that if by some chance the story were true, it would be prudent to let Zach reach the Principal. After several more days of verbal sparring, the Commandant sent Zach along with the weekly courier to the Capital.

He was tied securely to an aging mount and carefully watched by two young soldiers, both of whom treated him with contempt, referring to him as “filthy Trader.”

Despite the circumstances of the journey, Zach’s excitement grew as he approached familiar land. The road to the Capital was far better maintained now than it had been in the past; clearly the Principal had made changes, probably out of the necessity to improve communications with his new outpost in the west.

He had almost forgotten that he was probably riding to his death, nor did he think much about the information he would deliver to the Principal. One thing only filled his mind, making him feel like a child again: he was going home.

As they approached the Capital, Zach asked his guards for permission to bathe in the river, using soap. He couldn’t help but think of Will’s fastidiousness.

“A Trader? Wash? Why don’t you just ask us to cut you loose and close our eyes while you run away?”

“You needn’t untie me,” said Zach. “Only help me to get some of the worst of it off.”

The guard spat in disgust. “Sitting here is the closest I ever want to get to a filthy Trader,” he said. Roughly, he shoved Zach to the ground. “Ask the Principal for a bath if he’s such a good friend of yours.”

“Maybe we oughtta clean him up,” said the other guard. “Probably be the worst thing you can do to a Trader.”

With that they both laughed loudly and passed another pipe of new-smoke.

In the end it was just that way – filthy, his hair matted and full of parasites, half-starved and in rags, his hands fettered in front and his legs shackled together – that Zach was brought to the House of the Principal.

As he and the couriers rode along the broad Avenue, ignoring the taunts of those who had spotted a prisoner, all he could think was that he was here. The Capital was noisier, and brighter, and far, far more beautiful than he had remembered it.

His guards told the same story at each of the security posts, beginning at the iron gate. “This crazy Trader claims he’s the Principal’s brother. The Commandant thought the Principal might want to question him.”

At last he was taken to the office with rounded walls where the Principal conducted his public business. Zach saw very few familiar faces along the way. Undoubtedly all the generals were busy; from the improved condition of the roads, and the conversation of his guards, he gathered that the Principal was greatly expanding his army. In any case, it was doubtful if any of his old friends would recognize him now. Apart from the filth, Zach was sure he must appear aged by twenty more years than the five which had in reality passed.

Now, waiting in the wood-paneled hall, held against the wall by the museum-lance of the Principal’s private guard, a man Zach had never seen before, he heard the couriers speaking to the Principal about the “crazy Trader,” and then a bellow: “All right, you’ve come this far, bring him in!”

At the sound of that voice Zach felt as if a large hand had suddenly taken his body and were squeezing him in half. He was dragged into the familiar room. The Principal was standing behind his polished desk, his back to the light, his dark eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he peered into a book in his hands. Zach thought he saw gray hairs among the dark curls, then the Principal’s face seemed to dissolve as everything that had happened in five years welled up and overflowed. Zach began to shake with sobs just as the guard pushed him into the center of the room. “Here he is, sir.”

The Principal looked up, preoccupied and annoyed.

“Well?” he said. “I’m a busy man. Don’t stand there blubbering. Tell your—” And then he stopped and stared. The small amount of color in his pale face drained away and he leaned on the desk for support as he continued to gaze at Zach. He mouthed the name “Zach” but made no sound.

“Are you all right, sir?” asked his guard, sounding frightened.

The Principal didn’t move from where he was. Still leaning against the desk, he quietly said, “Unbind this man. Immediately.”

Even more frightened, the couriers and guard began fumbling with the bonds, trying to untie knots that trembled with their own and Zach’s shaking.

“Cut them, for the deena’s sake!” Before the men could respond, the Principal himself strode across the room and cut through the ropes with his own knife. “All of you get out of here!” he cried, his face less than two inches from that of his private guard. “Tell my secretary to bring in food and drink! That’s all!”

The men were very glad to go. Zach felt the Principal’s strong arms around him, and he lifted his own arms, weak from having been tied, and embraced his brother, still unable to speak.

The Principal recovered first. He brushed a hand across his face and, in a voice still shaky, said, “You look terrible.” He led Zach to the couch and helped him to sit. Zach’s attack of weeping had ended. He wiped at his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

The Principal stepped back and looked at him, his face filled with joy and amazement. There was a knock at the door, and Robin came in with a large tray.

Will began speaking immediately. “No more visitors, no interruptions, I don’t care what happens, I don’t care if the lord of the Traders comes into the city to surrender – do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Robin uncertainly. He looked curiously at Zach, recoiling at the filth, then his face changed. “Great deena!” he said.

“Yes,” said the Principal. “Zach has returned to us from the dead.”

“But how. . . ?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. We’ll find out sooner or later, but all that matters now is that he is back.”