Timegods' World (28 page)
Authors: L.E. Modesitt Jr.
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy
MORE ATTACKS AND burnings in Llordian and occurred over the next ten-day.
Then the elders and farmers of another farming town, Felshtar, came to Odin Thor complaining about the ConFed levies. Odin Thor asked for an election. They voted—sixty percent for the ConFed departure—and Henriod pulled out the ConFed troops. Two days later, the Felshtar townies attacked a small farm. The farmers retaliated by burning an outlying house.
About the same time, the Llordian farmers mounted an attack on the once-empty Llordian houses where grains had been taken and stored.
I eased back into Llordian as the ragged peddler, trudging down the road from Halfprince. Even from the edge of town, the stench was nearly unbearable, in spite of the cold south wind. The old postal building had been pressed into service as lodgings, and two women, armed with ancient scatterguns, stood by the nearly closed gate.
The town’s wall facings that had been white-washed and flecked with silver were scraped, scarred, and covered with dust and blackish grit. An odor of charred flesh and burned wood lingered in the air. Dark reddish blotches stained the curb stones.
In the square, the pottery lady’s stand was a crushed pile of fabric and broken wood, interspersed with colored clay shards. By the still-dry fountain stood the empty spits where the stolen and slaughtered hogs
had been roasted, with a heap of days-old bones kicked into a corner. A rat gnawed at one in the gray mid-morning light.
had been roasted, with a heap of days-old bones kicked into a corner. A rat gnawed at one in the gray mid-morning light.
One whole row of dwellings on one side of the square had been fired, and the roofs had collapsed in on themselves. Two bent men glanced at me, then returned to scavenging items and carrying them to the small wagon.
“You!”
I turned slowly, letting the hidden recorder in my pack pan the destruction. A thin man, almost as tall as Odin Thor, silver hair streaked with soot or worse, wearing a farmer’s jacket over a mechanic’s grease suit, aimed a projectile gun at me. He wasn’t a farmer, not with the projectile holes in the jacket, and the prison brand on his forehead.
“What you doing here?”
I looked around wide-eyed, reached slowly for one of the trinkets I had carved, ready to drop undertime instantly. He leveled the gun directly at me as I displayed a badly carved napkin ring.
“Oh, it’s you. The mute boy.” He shook his head. “Get out of here. No one has anything. The farmers will shoot you just like us, maybe faster.”
I looked puzzled, pointed to the pottery stand.
“Merdith? They got her, too. She didn’t want to lose her pots.” He snorted. “Swine! Starve us … hoarders …” The man almost forgot me, then stopped and gestured with the gun back toward the Halfprince road. “Go on. Someone might shoot you because they don’t know you. Go on!”
I nodded, let my shoulders sag, and plodded back the way I had come, toward the postal building—the ex-ConFed fort—that had become the latest housing in Llordian.
Something seared through my shoulder. I staggered undertime, holding to my concentration like a precious jewel until I fell on breakout right in front of Nerlis, the nurse in the infirmary.
“Sorry …” I think I said.
When I woke up again, I was lying on a flat table with Dr. Dyrell using a long instrument on my chest. The fire redoubled and dropped around me like a prickly red haze.
How long I drifted there, I don’t know, except that I was in a room where people seemed to come and go, and look at me, and come and go. Wryan came at least once. So, I think, did Odin Thor. Even in my haze Wryan stood out like a silver star.
When I woke up for real, there were, again, all sorts of tubes attached to me, and a large flexible pad across my left shoulder and chest.
Nerlis arrived within instants.
“Well … are you really awake?”
I nodded.
She shook her head slowly, not quite fondly, but not totally disapprovingly. “You get into more trouble …”
I just looked at the mass of tubes connected to me.
She followed my eyes. “Those stay there until we’re sure you’re not starving again.”
“When … can … I … eat?” My voice felt rusty, and my throat was dry.
She laughed. “That’s a good sign. Let’s try liquids, first. There’s nothing wrong with your digestive system.”
I glanced to the window as she checked me, before bustling out for the liquids she had promised. Outside were high soft white clouds and a bright green-blue sky, almost springlike.
Wryan arrived shortly, dropping from nowhere into the infirmary room. She glanced over the tubing. “I think I’ve seen you like this before.”
“Doctor …” acknowledged Nerlis, returning with a beaker. She barely hesitated before bringing it up to my lips.
The first sip was hard, so dry were my lips and mouth. The second was easier. The third hit my stomach like a centreslot ball to the groin. I’d forgotten the impact of Sustain on an empty stomach, but my body brought back the recollection instantly.
Nerlis wiped the sweat off my forehead, then nodded. “He’s all yours, Doctor Relorn. I’ll be back in a while to disconnect the tubes.”
Wryan pulled the chair closer to the bed. “Sammis … who told you that you were invulnerable?”
I didn’t want to answer that one.
“Walking into Llordian …” she didn’t finish her statement.
“All right … was stupid.” I took another sip of Sustain with a shaking hand. “Should I have dived in and recorded and disappeared?”
“Why not?” Wryan’s voice was calm.
“How about the witches of Eastron?”
“It’s a different time and a different place.” She looked at me critically. “You should be dead, you know?”
I didn’t ask why, not wanting to move much.
“Your wounds weren’t survivable, according to Dr. Dyrell.” She stood up and pointed a finger at me. “But you’re still not invulnerable.”
I yawned. All of a sudden, I felt tired.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
As I recovered over the next ten-day, I discovered that the remaining farmers had nearly leveled Llordian, but not before the last remnant of
the townies had attacked and leveled a dozen more farms—empty because the farmers had retreated to one they had made into a stronghold.
the townies had attacked and leveled a dozen more farms—empty because the farmers had retreated to one they had made into a stronghold.
The townies attacked, and three quarters of them were wiped out—as were nearly half the farmers and most of the stored crops and seed grain.
At Felshtar, nearly the same thing had happened, because the farmers, hearing what had happened at Llordian, waited until the next townie attack. Then they burned the entire town, while the townies were out burning every farmhouse they could reach.
Jerlyk made some tapes of the destruction.
Algern, another town near Esterly, complained about the ConFed levies. Odin Thor showed them the tapes, then sent a handful of townies and farmers by steamer to Llordian. They didn’t even ask for an election. They did ask, after talking with Wryan, for a committee of townies and farmers, under ConFed supervision, to verify townie food needs and farmer supplies.
By the time I was well enough to leave the infirmary, I had figured out what had to be done, if we were to avoid self-destruction and get back on the road to dealing with the Frost Giants.
Wryan didn’t encourage me or oppose me. What she said was, “If you think so, go ahead and persuade everyone.”
I didn’t have to persuade everyone, just Odin Thor.
THE SUNSHINE THAT had promised an early spring vanished as we walked into the colonel-general’s office. My shoulder still twinged when I stretched too far, but the redness of the scars had already begun to fade.
Odin Thor stood behind his desk and peered at me, and I still didn’t know whether Wryan was really behind me or not. At least, she’d agreed to come.
“The divers can’t stay here any longer.”
“Why not, Trooper Sammis?”
“First, because it makes your troopers uneasy. Second, because they need to adjust to the real world. And third, because this base isn’t suited to rebuilding the future.” My voice almost squeaked, but I got it all out.
Wryan said nothing, just stood there with a faint smile on her face.
Odin Thor smiled even more broadly. “My troopers will do what I say.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh … ?”
“Not if I tell them your big secret—that you’re a diver yourself.”
For once, the colonel-general looked surprised. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then he just sat there.
“You, madame.” he finally said, “Do you believe such an absurdity?”
“Colonel,” she said with a wry twist to her lips, “what I believe is not the issue. Is it?”
Odin Thor glanced toward the closed door, then looked at me. “What could you possibly gain by making such a statement?”
“Look,” I said, hoping the words came out the way I had rehearsed them. “What happened at Llordian and Felshtar showed that right now people only respect force. They also try to destroy what they don’t want to understand. I’m a diver. I’m not a trooper, and I never will be again.”
Odin Thor’s hairy eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you really think you could keep me from destroying most of your forces—if I had to?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Not unless you forced him,” added Wryan.
Odin Thor stepped back. “Let’s start this over.” He resumed the false jollity. “Why don’t you just explain this whole wonderful scheme of yours?”
“It’s not wonderful. It’s designed for survival.” I cleared my throat. “It’s simple when you think about it. From the divers’ viewpoint, they have to sleep, and get rest. If the ConFeds are three buildings away, some of the divers are always vulnerable. Plus, several of them have had rather unpleasant prior experiences with ConFeds.
“Second, the divers are still living in the past. They still look at what they’re doing as a research project. They need to become more self-reliant, and building their own camp will require that. In addition, the ConFeds are already beginning to resent having to support the divers. If the divers support themselves, then they’re not a drain on the ConFeds. And the ConFeds are going to need every man possible to maintain some sort of order in the next year or so.” I rubbed my shoulder, recalling Llordian.
“Now … you asked about you. If you are known to be a diver, and divers can neutralize people at will, no one is likely to challenge you. But … you can’t make that known until the divers, who, presumably, would be viewed as your power base, are out of easy physical reach of the ConFeds.”
Odin Thor paced back toward me. A good two heads taller than me,
he radiated physical power. “Why couldn’t I just remove you?”
he radiated physical power. “Why couldn’t I just remove you?”
“Because you can’t survive over the long term without divers,” interjected Wryan.
“I beg your pardon?” Odin Thor’s politeness was strained.
“Look,” I almost shouted. “Your damned steamers are your lifelines. They’re more than half ceramic, and there’s not a ceramics facility left on the planet. Where are the etheline refineries? The Enemy—the Frost Giants—whatever they are, leveled all the factories and took out the solar satellite links. We can reach them. You can’t.
Maybe
in time we could repair them. You can’t. How long will those standby generators last?”
Maybe
in time we could repair them. You can’t. How long will those standby generators last?”
Odin Thor wasn’t stupid. “All of that may be true, but what good are your divers? There’s not an engineer among them, you two excepted.”
I swallowed. “We can bring small things back from other planetary systems. Weapons, certainly tools, some limited metals. Perhaps technology.”
Odin Thor raised his eyebrows.
“We’ve already proved to be able to provide instant communications.”
He looked out the window. “You’re telling me I have no choice.”
“Not exactly,” added Wryan. “Sammis is telling you that over the long term you have no choice.”
“Madame, I am not that short-sighted. I have no choice. Will you keep your bargain?”
“We have to,” I added. “For the same reason. We have to be viewed as helpful. Otherwise, any time a diver appears, we’ll be back in the old witches of Eastron days, having to hide and run.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
“If I bring Weldin copper wire, iron plates or scavenge materials from ruins in Eastron, he can rebuild a generator for power generation. I can’t build one.”
Odin Thor said nothing, looked out at the clouds.
Wryan nodded faintly.
“All right. What comes first?”
I’d thought about that. First, the divers brought raw materials and goodies for the ConFeds. Then, they decided they wanted their own village, not an armed camp, with some strong hints from Odin Thor that he really couldn’t guarantee day-in, day-out security unless the divers were in a less accessible location.
Odin Thor would let his men—gradually—bring in women. Only
willing ones, and the divers could police that. With the women would come children. That would take care of some resentment against there being female divers and no female ConFeds.
willing ones, and the divers could police that. With the women would come children. That would take care of some resentment against there being female divers and no female ConFeds.
“Sit down, why don’t you?” I suggested.
Wryan smiled faintly from behind Odin Thor as she pulled up a chair. Odin Thor turned and retreated behind his desk.
I sat in the chair right before him. It would be a long morning.
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