The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (11 page)

He also noticed the instantly recognizable scratch marks on one wall and the roof of the boat and looked at the aliens with new respect.

“You had an encounter with a Droom.”

“I’m afraid we did,” said Ethan. “Scared the crap out of us.”

Candid, too, Hunnar filed away mentally.

Of course, no true warrior would confess to fright in a battle situation—even when confronted by a Droom. If they’d been attacked by a rampaging stavanzer, now! But that was a special case. Why, even he might …

“Your vehicle,” he began innocently, “seems to have incurred some damage. I myself, since I did not witness your arrival, find it hard to believe that this much metal (keep the envy from your tones, knight!) truly descended from the sky.” Then he couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. “Is it really a flying machine?”

“It is,” answered Ethan. “We came from a ship many hundreds of times larger than this one.” Hunnar couldn’t repress a little start at that.

“It was bringing us to this world from another, where live some of our number, and thence to others. We paused in the … above the air of your world, when a small disaster overtook us. We were forced to flee our ship in this tiny lifeboat. A second misfortune befell us and we were unable to land properly. One of our number,” he added by way of afterthought “was killed in the landing.”

“My sorrowings,” said Hunnar politely. Of course, he didn’t believe this creature’s fantastic story. Other worlds, indeed! Every child who’d studied with a Knowledgable One knew that Tran-ky-ky was the only world in this star system that could harbor life. No, they must be a stunted, nearly hairless variety of tran from the far side of the globe. Ethan’s next words tended to support this assumption.

“There is a small settlement of our people many … many satch to the west of here. That is where we were trying to land when our craft went out of control. If you could aid us in getting there, our ancestors would dance your praises through eternity.”

“How many satch?” inquired Hunnar, not impressed by the flattery.

Ethan did some furious figuring in his head, utilizing their last beacon reading and September’s guesswork.

“Eight or nine thousand, I think.”

One of the soldiers made a muffled whining sound. Hunnar glared at him. But he was hard put to keep from smiling himself. Eight or nine thousand satch. Just a quick chivan around the province and back.

“Such matters are best discussed with the Landgrave,” he replied smoothly.

“The Landgrave?”

“Yes. At the great castle of Wannome. You will meet him—and the Council—when we arrive.”

That suits us,” September said, speaking for the first time. “And I think, laddie, it’s time we all introduced ourselves.”

“Agreed,” said Hunnar. “I hight Sir Hunnar Redbeard, son of Stömsbruk Redbeard’s Son, grand-grandson of Dugai the Wild. My squires, Suaxus-dal-Jagger”—a tall, slimmer soldier stepped forward stiffly—“and Budjir Hotahg. His Landgrave’s men-at-arms and truemen,” and he proceeded to name the soldiers in turn, “Vasen Tersund, Smjör Tol, Avyeh-let-Ot-kamo, and Hivell Vuonislathi.”

“I hight Ethan Fortune. This hight Skua September, Milliken Williams …” and he went down their little group.

“Only one calling?” Hunnar said, indicating Walther.

“A criminal, uh … consigned to our care,” Ethan improvised hastily. “As such, he is entitled to but one.”

As to the du Kanes, Hunnar was mildly discouraged to learn they were father and daughter. He’d badly misjudged ages and relationship. A small point, but it piqued him. Sire and cub, then, and not mates. That was interesting.

“Despite your greeting, friend Ethan, I must be certain you are of the true warm blood and not deviants like the hoppers. Before we can think of aiding you freely, this vital thing must be settled.”

Budjir chivaned over and whispered to his leader. “What needs this, sir? They would clearly seem to be—”

“Be silent, squire. The stjorva appears as a bush, but it bites.” Taken aback, Budjir growled to himself and stepped away.

“What now?” September was asking Ethan.

“I think they want to be sure we’re of the same basic stock as they are. We’re not, of course, but I think he’s hunting for comforting similarity.” He turned to the knight “How can we prove this small thing to you, Sir Hunnar?”

The huge tran walked past Ethan and confronted Colette. She held her ground well but stared up at the carnivorous face apprehensively.

“What does this thing want?” she stuttered in Terranglo.

Ethan conversed briefly with Hunnar. September smiled.

“Our very lives are at stake,” the big man rasped. “You’d better cooperate.” In Trannish, he addressed Hunnar. “Be careful, the She’s a mite skittish.”

The knight nodded. Ethan noticed that the native’s coat fastened at the shoulders with leather ties. He spoke in Terranglo to Colette.

“I think you’ll have to open your parka, Colette. You’ll only be cold for a minute.”

“Open my … are you out of your
mind?
You think for one minute I’m going to let this elephantine pussycat leer at me?”

“He just wants to make certain that we’re faintly mammalian,” said Ethan easily. “You’re our best and only convincing proof. Would you rather be barbecued?”

“Now Colette,” began du Kane, “I’m not sure—”

“Very well,” said Colette evenly. She began working at the snaps on her parka. Ethan noticed that the other tran soldiers were observing the operation with something more than clinical interest.

She shook a little when Hunnar put those great clawed paws on her, but otherwise she bore the brief inspection stolidly.

“Satisfied?” September asked him the moment he’d finished. Colette had turned away and was resnapping her jacket.

“Eminently.” Privately he felt this only added validity to his theory that these people were merely thinner variants of his own stock with a much more advanced technology.

“You okay, Colette?” Ethan inquired in solicitous Terranglo.

“Yes, I think so.” She was shaking a little and didn’t even insist that he call her Miss du Kane. “I just hope these aborigines don’t carry lice or fleas.”

“What did the She say?” Hunnar asked.

“That she was flattered by your attention,” Ethan replied smoothly.

“Umph. Well, friend Ethan, it is for the Landgrave and the Council to decide if anything can be done about your request for help in reaching your home.”

“It’s not our home,” said Ethan, unconsciously avoiding the other’s neat trap. “Just a single settlement our folk have established on your world.”

“To be sure,” Hunnar murmured. “In any case, the full Council should debate it.” Actually, with the Horde only a malet or two away, any request for so much as a sword blade or scrap of spare sail was apt to be treated with kindly indifference at best. He didn’t say that, of course. Possibly these people could be of some help. There was no point in discouraging them early.

Now, if they voluntarily agreed to contribute the wreck of their boat, that would surely be a point in their favor. A point he ought to bring up about now.

“Is your vessel truly no longer capable of flight?”

That is so,” said Ethan sadly.

“Can it not be repaired?”

“I fear not,” September put in. “It would take the facilities of a full O-G dock. The nearest is parsecs away.”

Hunnar looked across at him. He already felt at ease with Ethan. Less certain was he with this stranger who was nearly as big as himself and whose accent was even more abominable than Ethan’s.

The big human seemed only amused by the intent scrutiny the knight was giving him.

“Then,” he continued casually, “would you object to our making some use of it?” He waited tensely. He didn’t wish to spill blood here, but for so much worked metal …

He did not bother to point out that they were in no position to deny it. Even so, Ethan’s ready answer surprised him.

“Sure. Help yourselves.” Even Suaxus looked startled.

“One thing you ought to know, though,” added September. “I don’t think your people will be able to work it.”

“Our smiths,” replied Suaxus, drawing himself up to his full height, “can work bronze, brass, silver, gold, copper, junite, iron, visiron, and good steel.”

“Very impressive. Believe me, I wish them only the best of luck. If they can mold duralloy in your local version of a manual forge, I’ll be the first to applaud. Now, if you could train a Droom to manhandle the stuff …”

That was one several of the soldiers could not keep from laughing at. It lightened the atmosphere, lessened the tension born of acquisition.

“If we could do
that
,” smiled Hunnar, “we wouldn’t need the metal.”

“There are some bits and scraps already torn free that you might be able to make some use of,” September continued. “Like the acceleration-couch frames, heating units, and such. I’d like to offer you a couple of miles of wire, but I’m afraid there just isn’t much in the boat.” He wasn’t about to try and explain solid- and fluid-state mechanics. A frustrated warrior could become an angry warrior, apt to relieve his frustration by making short choppy motions with sharp objects.

“We shall see,” said Hunnar. He looked at Ethan. “You surely have no objections then, friend Ethan?”

“No, the boat’s all yours, uh, friend Hunnar.”

“Fine. Now I think it be time to go meet his Lordship.” He was exhilarated. Not a drop of blood shed to win such a prize! And mayhap some allies as well. Tiny allies, ’twas true.

“We’re ready as you,” said Ethan. He took a step forward, then stopped. A look of consternation came over his features.

“Um … how do you propose to get to this castle of yours?”

Hunnar reconsidered. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe these really were children, or at least adolescents.

“We will simply chivan over,” he said patiently. “It is only a short ’lide. Fifteen minutes out, perhaps three times that back, against the wind.”

“By ‘chivan’ I guess you mean to skate?” Hunnar said nothing, confused. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

“Why not?” blurted Suaxus, hand moving slowly toward his sword-hilt again.

“Because,” Ethan continued, opening his coat and raising his arms, “we don’t have any wings and,” resnapping the coat and lifting a foot, removing the boot, “we haven’t any claws, or skates.” He replaced the boot hastily as the cold bit at his heel.

Hunnar stared at the now-covered foot and rapidly made some astonished reappraisals. Firstly, his pet theory that these people were but slimmer varieties of his own vanished like a sweetclub down a cub’s gullet. And then the full alien-ness of them—the way they moved, talked, their impossible sky-ship—all came down on him at once with a solid mental crunch.

Invincible knight of Sofold though he be, he was still shaken.

“If … if you have neither dan nor chiv,” he asked helplessly, “how do you move about? Surely you do not
walk
all the time?”

“We do a lot of that,” Ethan admitted. “Also, we have small vehicles that move from place to place.” He demonstrated a walk, feeling ridiculous. “We also run.” He forbore demonstrating this other human activity.

“We too ‘walk,’ with our chiv retracted,” muttered Hunnar a little dazedly. “But to
have
to walk to cover any distance … how terrible!”

“There are plenty of humans who feel exactly the same way. They do as little of it as possible,” confessed Ethan. “On our world there are few places to chivan, anyway. Our oceans are not solid, like this, but liquid.”

“You mean, like the inside of the world?” Hunnar gaped.

“That’s interesting.” Williams spoke for the first time. “Clearly they have seen or have memory of occasional breaks in the ice. Since it’s as much a part of their surface as these islands, it’s easy to see how their wise men would conclude that the world was hollow and filled with water.”

“What a sad place your home must be,” commiserated Hunnar, honestly sympathetic. “I do not think I should like to visit it.”

“Oh, there are places on many of our worlds, including Terra, where you’d feel right at home,” Ethan assured him.

“Can you not chivan at
all
?” pressed the knight. It was hard to accede to such a monstrous abnormality.

“Not at all. If I were to try and chivan … We do have artificial chiv of metal on some worlds, but brought none with us. It’s not standard survival gear on our lifeboats. And I wouldn’t know how to use them, anyway. I think I could make a few meters from here into the wind before falling flat on my face.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Colette. He ignored her.

“I will call for a sled,” Hunnar said decisively. “Budjir, you and Hivell see to it!” The squire indicated acknowledgment and headed for the ice, the soldier following.

The humans watched their departure with fascinated stares. Williams in particular was utterly enraptured.

Once on the ice, the squire dug into the soldier’s backpack and drew out a highly polished mirror about a third as big as his torso. It was set in a dark wooden frame and had what looked like a large metal screw set in the base of the wood.

While the squire aligned it with the sun and balanced it, the soldier jammed it into the ice and began twisting until it was screwed in tightly. It was facing those same western islands Ethan had spotted from his treetop vantage.

There was a simple baffle-shutter arrangement that slipped over the mirror. While the soldier steadied it against the wind, Budjir began opening and closing the baffles in a distinct pattern. Almost immediately there was an answering series of bright flashes somewhere along the horizon, at which the squire began fluttering his shutters more rapidly and for some time.

“Clearly, any kind of aural communication,” September mused, “like drums or horns, are out of the question here. This wind would swallow up a good drum inside a half-kilometer or less.”

Williams asked Hunnar, “What do you do at night?”

“Torchlight reflected by mirror serves well enough,” the knight replied. “For long distances we have developed a system of relay stations with bigger mirrors. Except, of course, where they have been destroyed.”