Seeker (34 page)

"I'm proud to be able to tell you," he said, "that we are at last very close to the fulfilment of all our hard work. We will be proceeding with the final phase at midnight tonight."

The team applauded.

"May I introduce to you a brave and selfless young man—one who fully understands and shares the nobility of our cause—and one who has the key to the island of Anacrea, and to the Nom itself, because he is—a Noma!"

A gasp went up from the team. Evor Ortus went white. He had never expected Similin to persuade one of the Nomana to join them. It was a brilliant coup.

"Blaze of Justice!"

Blaze bowed his head, blushing at the applause.

"Would you like to say a word or two to the team?"

Blaze looked back in silence for a moment. Then he said,

"Hello, team."

A titter ran round the room, quickly suppressed.

"Our young hero," Similin explained, "has been cast out of the Community of the Nomana. As part of that process, he has been, as they call it, cleansed. He has lost much of his understanding. But he has not forgotten that he is a Noble Warrior."

Blaze smiled and nodded, happy to hear words he recognized.

"And that his cause is justice for all."

Blaze smiled and nodded again; and then rather spoiled the effect by putting his thumb in his mouth.

"What is more," continued Similin, "he has told me that he is willing—that he is eager—in the service of that cause—to give his life itself!"

The team applauded. Blaze took his thumb out of his mouth and clapped his hands, too. Soren Similin accepted the applause as his due. He felt justifiably proud. A better volunteer could not have been found.

"Let us show our brave young friend the device."

Ortus signed to his team, and the blinds were rolled back. The late afternoon sunlight streamed down from above, making a dazzling display of the banks of glass tubes. Blaze stared at the vats and pipes, the grids and the dangling yoke, at the rubber tubes and the stout chair with its straps and pads. Then he asked, puzzled,

"Where is the weapon?"

"You will be the weapon."

He frowned, still not understanding.

"I will be the weapon?"

"You will carry within you the power of the sun itself!"

"Will I?" said Blaze.

"No need to understand. All you need to know is that the most brilliant minds of a generation have combined to create the ultimate weapon. Here, in a city that worships the sun, we've found a way to harness the sun's mighty power. To harness it, and then—to set it free!"

"That must have been very difficult," said Blaze.

"It is a complex device. We've been at work for many long days and many long nights. None more so than the professor here." He bowed to Ortus. To Blaze he added, "This good man is the chief scientist on the technical team. It is he who has built this remarkable device."

The professor nodded and smiled, and Similin remained entirely unaware of the hatred that burned within him.

"That's a good strong chair," said Blaze.

He went over to the wooden chair and sat himself down in it. Ortus squealed with dismay.

"Not yet!" he cried. "There are repairs to be made. We can't start yet!"

The secretary took Blaze by the arm and drew him out of the chair.

"Please don't distress yourself, Professor," he said. "We have agreed that we will begin at midnight."

"You propose a full charge?"

"A full charge." Similin nodded gravely. "From midnight to dawn."

"To dawn!"

Everyone in the team knew what that meant. They were awed. The axer on whom they had carried out the test was far bigger than Blaze, and he had been charged for no more than twelve minutes.

"By dawn," said Similin to Blaze, "your body will hold the most massive accumulation of pure energy on the face of the earth."

"That will be nice," said Blaze.

"And then—one small cut. A little blood. All it takes is for your blood to be exposed to the air, and—"

He parted his hands, slowly and majestically, to convey what could not be conveyed: the devastating force of the blast that would then ensue. As he did so, Similin felt as if it were he himself who was bringing about this historic coup. He, the son of a poor weaver, the despised outlander, was about to change the world.

"My good friend the professor will find you a place to rest, and food and drink. It would be wise, I think, for you to remain here until midnight, out of sight of prying eyes. Perhaps in the storeroom."

He moved to open the storeroom door. Ortus jumped into his way.

"Not there. There's so little air there. I'm sure our hero would be far more comfortable in our canteen. Especially if he's to eat and drink."

"But that room is used all the time."

"We would be proud to offer it to him for his sole use."

The secretary beckoned the scientist aside, and spoke to him confidentially.

"Please help me here, Professor. I'm sure this young man is entirely reliable. But I'd be happier if the door to the room in which he rests is locked while I'm away at the evening offering."

Ortus had anticipated this. He held up a key.

"Of course."

Similin was pleased. The scientist was showing more initiative than he'd given him credit for.

"Nothing must be allowed to go wrong, now that we're so close to the end."

Closer than you think, said Evor Ortus to himself, as he smiled and bobbed his head.

T
HE TIME FOR THE EVENING OFFERING WAS GETTING
close, and in the house of Cheerful Giver there was an air of mounting excitement. Blessing had had a new outfit made for the purpose, and her husband, who was in the habit of saying he didn't care what he wore, had put on a formal coat that was heavily embroidered with silver thread. The two boys were dressed in pure white, and ordered to sit still so as not to dirty their clothes. And as for Morning Star, all day long a seamstress had been at work making her a white dress on which she was now sewing delicate panels of contrasting white so that all could see how highly Cheerful Giver valued his new daughter.

Morning Star had at last been released from her chain. Indeed, it was necessary if she were to be fitted for the new dress. She showed no inclination to escape.

"The king is very magnificent," Blessing told her. "I hope you won't be overawed by his presence."

"I come with a message from a power even greater than the king," said Morning Star quietly.

When Soren Similin arrived on the temple terrace for the evening offering, the High Priest greeted him with more warmth than usual.

"Ah, Secretary. I hear you've been away from court. I trust you return refreshed."

"Thank you, Holiness."

From beyond the closed doors came the sounds of the king's hate session.

"Suffer and die! Suffer and die!"

Ba-ba-ba-bam! Ba-ba-ba-bam!

"Nomana die! Nomana die!"

Ba-ba-ba-bam! Ba-ba-ba-bam!

The priest on duty for the evening offering entered.

"Am I to prepare the tribute, Holiness?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"We have a name-day offering this evening, Holiness."

"Oh? Whose name day?"

"The oil merchant Cheerful Giver."

"That money-grubber! Hoping to buy himself more status, I suppose. What sort of tribute is he offering?"

"A female tribute. The word is she's willing."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

The secretary heard this exchange, but he had no interest in the details of the ceremony. As soon as it was over, he would return to the laboratory, and there he would set in train a sequence of events that would change everything.

The priest on duty proceeded to the tanks to collect the evening's tribute. The guards opened the grid door, and the priest pointed to Mercy.

"She's the one."

Mercy rose and made her way up the steps without a moment's hesitation. The Wildman took in what was happening just a few seconds too late.

"No!" he cried. "Not her! Don't take her!"

The grid door dropped down onto him, knocking him to the floor. The heavy bolts slammed home. He was up and hanging from the bars, rattling and screaming, before the priest and the tribute were out of the door.

"Not her!" he screamed. "Not her!"

Mercy turned and looked back and gave him a sweet sad smile. He saw in that look that she was ready, even willing, to die, but all the raging life force in him cried out against it. He turned and howled at the rest of the prisoners, who looked on, silent in the tank.

"Are you dead already? Why don't you shout? Why don't you scream? Don't let them do this! What are you? Chickens? We're going to die anyway! Don't die silent! Die noisy! Die yelling! Die loud!"

He followed this with a great wordless howl of fury.

"Aieee-ee-ee!"

***

Outside, the bells were ringing and the people of Radiance were streaming into the temple square. The sun was dropping towards the lake horizon, and market traders were calling out their wares. The chatter of the crowd filled the air.

Cheerful Giver and his family, which now included Morning Star, reached the temple terrace just a little too early The king had not yet emerged. The High Priest began at once to make the speech required of him by tradition, thanking Cheerful Giver for providing the evening's offering. This speech should have been made in the presence of the king. Cheerful Giver, smiling and bowing as if he were the happiest man in Radiance, understood very well that the High Priest meant to deprive him of his due honor. He consoled himself with the thought that the High Priest had a surprise coming.

In the secret laboratory, Professor Ortus had now pretended to repair the fault he had pretended to find. Therefore he called his team together and instructed them to attend the evening offering.

"We have a long night ahead of us," he said. "Pray to the Radiant Power for the strength to complete our great task. Return at midnight."

He himself remained in the laboratory.

As soon as they were gone, he unlocked the storeroom where Seeker was hidden and, putting one finger to his lips, beckoned him to come out.

"We must make as little noise as possible," he whispered. "No one must know."

He glanced at the locked canteen door, beyond which Blaze, the only other person now in the laboratory, was resting. No sound came from within. With luck, he was even asleep. So long as they kept their voices low, the scientist was confident that Blaze would not guess what was happening. And even if he did, Ortus had seen that blank foolish face. He expected no trouble there.

Seeker was standing gazing in awe at the banks of solar tubes, now glowing pink in the light of the setting sun. He asked no questions. But as Blaze had done, he moved forward to the chair that stood bolted to the floor at the center of the apparatus and ran his fingers over its sturdy arms.

"This is the weapon that will destroy Anacrea?"

"This is it."

"How does it work?"

"I'll show you. But first, I have to strap you in."

Seeker looked round the looming towers of pipes and vessels, and up at the yoke that hung above him. He found it all extremely frightening. But he was also puzzled.

"Sit in the chair," said Ortus, trying not to sound too eager.

Seeker hesitated for a moment longer. Then he sat in the chair.

A small cheer from the crowd greeted the appearance of the procession of three priests escorting the evening's tribute. Morning Star looked across the terrace and saw the indistinct figure of a woman in white. She felt a sharp pang of guilt. This should have been her. All the time she had been plotting to free herself, she had somehow managed not to think that her survival was someone else's death. Distressed, she looked away.

The king emerged at last. He came hobbling onto the terrace, his face pink from shouting, and stood with his arms raised, to be dressed in the ceremonial cape. At this point the High Priest should have presented Cheerful Giver and his family, but he made no move to do so. Cheerful Giver, smiling even more grimly, was obliged to present himself.

"Radiance, today is my name day, and I am proud to offer this day's tribute."

"Proud? What's there to be proud about? Oh, yes. I see. Your name day." The priest-king peered towards the tribute procession. "Well done. That's the spirit. Though I don't suppose you won him in battle, eh?"

He laughed, and so Cheerful Giver laughed.

"No, Radiance. My tribute is a lady."

"A lady! I say! Well done!"

"Aieee-ee-ee!" screamed the Wildman in the tanks. "Die noisy! Die loud!"

Now the younger spikers caught his rebellious mood and joined his cry.

"Yaa-aa-ee-eee!"

Now others were shouting, too. They lived with so much fear, the screaming came as a release. As more and more joined in, the level of noise rose until even the most fearful felt they had nothing to lose. The Wildman stood at their head, banging the hinged grid against its bolts, and the hundreds of prisoners bayed like demented animals.

On the temple terrace, Blessing stood at her husband's side, looking before her with a beatific gaze. She whispered to her husband.

"Present the child."

The High Priest, his eyes on the tribute procession, determinedly paying no attention to Cheerful Giver's moment of glory, became aware that some sort of commotion was going on in the tanks. He beckoned to one of his priests.

"That noise. Put a stop to it."

The priest departed. The High Priest turned to see Cheerful Giver presenting a girl in a white dress to the king.

"Radiance! May I introduce my adopted daughter, Morning Star."

The king looked at Morning Star with mild surprise.

"I didn't know you had an adopted daughter."

"She has a message for you, Radiance."

Cheerful Giver saw that the keeper was holding up the Corona, ready for him to place it on the king's shoulders. The ceremonial procedures could not wait. The sun was descending. So with an encouraging nod to Morning Star, he went about his duties, pleasantly aware that his words had caused general surprise.