The Venging (9 page)

visions were not monstrous. The upper and lower nave shimmered with reflected glories, with dream figures and children clothed in baubles of light. Saints and prodigies dominated. A thousand newly created youngsters squatted on the bright floor and began to tell of marvels, of cities in the East, and times as they had once been. Clowns dressed in fire entertained from the tops of the market stalls. Animals unknown to the Cathedral cavorted between the dwellings, giving friendly advice. Abstract things, glowing balls in nets of gold and ribbons of silk, sang and floated around the upper reaches. The Cathedral became a great vessel of all the bright dreams known to its citizens. Slowly, from the lower nave, people of pure flesh climbed to the scaffold and walked the upper nave to see what they couldn't from below. From my hideaway I watched the masked troops of the bishop carrying his litter up narrow stairs. Constantia walked behind, stumbling, her eyes shut in the new brightness. All tried to cover their eyes, but none for long succeeded. I wept. Almost blind with tears, I made my way still higher and looked down on the roiling crowds. I saw Corvus, his hands still wrapped in restraining ropes, being led by the old woman. Constantia saw him, too, and they regarded each other like strangers, then joined hands as best they could. She borrowed a knife from one of her father's soldiers and cut his ropes away. Around them the brightest dreams of all began to swirl, pure white and blood-red and sea-green, coalescing into visions of all the children they would innocently have. I gave them a few hours to regain their sensesand to regain my own. Then I stood on the bishop's abandoned podium and shouted over the heads of those on the lowest level. (56 of 197) The Venging "The time has come!" I cried. "We must all unite now; we must unite" At first they ignored me. I was quite eloquent, but their excitement was still too great. So I waited some

more, began to speak again, and was shouted down. Bits of fruit and vegetables arced up. "Freak!" they screamed, and drove me away. I crept along the stone stairs, found the narrow crack, and hid in it, burying my beak in my paws,

wondering what had gone wrong. It took a surprisingly long time for me to realize that, in my case, it was

less the stigma of stone than the ugliness of my shape that doomed my quest for leadership. I had, however, paved the way for the Stone Christ. He will surely be able to take His place now, I told myself. So I maneuvered along the crevice until I came to the hidden chamber and the yellow glow. All was quiet within. I met first the stone monster, who looked me over suspiciously with glazed grey eyes. "You're back," he said. Overcome by his wit, I leered, nodded, and asked that I be presented to the Christ.

"He's sleeping."

"Important tidings," I said.

"What?"

"I bring glad tidings."

"Then let me hear them."

"His ears only."

Out of the gloomy corner came the Christ, looking much older now. "What is it?" He asked.

"I have prepared the way for you," I said. "Simon called Peter told me I was the heir to his legacy, that I

should go before you" The Stone Christ shook his head. "You believe I am the fount from which all blessings flow?" I nodded, uncertain. "What have you done out there?" "Let in the light," I said. He shook His head slowly. "You seem a wise enough creature. You know about Mortdieu."

(57 of 197) "Yes." "Then you should know that I barely have enough power to keep myself together, to heal myself, much

less to minister to those out there." He gestured beyond the walls. "My own source has gone away," he said mournfully. "I'm operating on reserves, and those none too vast." "He wants you to go away and stop bothering us," the monster explained. "They have their light out there," the Christ said. "They'll play with that for a while, get tired of it, go

back to what they had before. Is there any place for you in that?" I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "No place," I said. "I'm too ugly." "You are too ugly, and I am too famous," he said. "I'd have to come from their midst, anonymous, and

that is clearly impossible. No, leave them alone for a while. They'll make me over again, perhaps, or

better still, forget about me. About us. We don't have any place there." I was stunned. I sat down hard on the stone floor, and the Christ patted me on my head as He walked by. "Go back to your hiding place; live as well as you can," He said. "Our time is over."

I turned to go. When I reached the crevice, I heard. His voice behind, saying, "Do you play bridge? If you

do, find another. We need four to a table." I clambered up the crack, through the walls, and along the arches over the revelry. Not only was I not going to be popeafter an appointment by Saint Peter himself!but I couldn't convince someone much more qualified than I to assume the leadership.

It is the sign of the eternal student, I suppose, that when his wits fail him, he returns to the teacher. I returned to the copper giant. He was lost in meditation. About his feet were scattered scraps of paper

with detailed drawings of parts of the Cathedral. I waited patiently until he saw me. He turned, chin in hand, and looked me over. "Why so sad?" I shook my head. Only he could read my features and recognize my moods. "Did you take my advice below? I heard a commotion." "Mea maxima culpa," I said.

(58 of 197) The Venging "And?" I slowly, hesitantly, made my report, concluding with the refusal of the Stone Christ. The giant listened

closely without interrupting. When I was done, he stood, towering over me, and pointed with his ruler through an open portal. "Do you see that out there?" he asked. The ruler swept over the forests beyond the island, to the far green horizon. I replied that I did and waited for him to continue. He seemed to be lost in thought again. "Once there was a city where trees now grow," he said. "Artists came by the thousands, and whores, and philosophers, and academics. And when God died, all the academics and whores and artists couldn't hold the fabric of the world together. How do you expect us to succeed now?" Us? "Expectations should not determine whether one acts or not," I said, "Should they?" The giant laughed and tapped my head with the ruler. "Maybe we've been given a sign, and we just have

to learn how to interpret it correctly." I leered to show I was puzzled. "Maybe Mortdieu is really a sign that we have been weaned. We must forage for ourselves, remake the

world without help. What do you think of that?"

I was too tired to judge the merits of what he was saying, but I had never known the giant to be wrong before. "Okay. I grant that. So?" "The Stone Christ says his charge is running down. If God weans us from the old ways, we can't expect His Son to replace the nipple, can we?" "No" He hunkered next to me, his face bright. "I wondered who would really stand forth. It's obvious. He won't.

So, little one, who's the next choice?" "Me?" I asked, meekly. The giant looked me over pityingly. "No," he said after a time. "I am the next. We'reweaned !" He did a little dance, startling my beak up out

of my paws. I blinked. He grabbed my vestigial wing tips and pulled me upright. "Stand straight. Tell me more." "About what?"

(59 of 197) "Tell me all that's going on below, and whatever else you know." "I'm trying to figure out what you're saying," I protested, trembling. "Dense as stone!" Grinning, he bent over me. Then the grin went away, and he tried to look stern. "It's a grave responsibility. We must remake the world ourselves now. We must coordinate our thoughts, our dreams. Chaos won't do. What an opportunity, to be the architect of an entire universe!" He waved the ruler at the ceiling. "To build the very skies! The last world was a training ground, full of harsh rules and strictures. Now we've been told we're ready to leave that behind, move on to something more mature. Did I teach you any of the rules of architecture? I mean, the aesthetics. The need for harmony, interaction, utility, beauty?" "Some," I said. "Good. I don't think making the universe anew will require any better rules. No doubt we'll need to experiment, and perhaps one or more of our great spires will topple. But now we work for ourselves, to our own glory, and to the greater glory of the God who made us! No, ugly friend?" Like many histories, mine must begin with the small, the tightly focused, and expand into the large. But unlike most historians, I don't have the luxury of time. Indeed, my story isn't even concluded yet. Soon the legions of Viollet-le-Duc will begin their campaigns. Most have been schooled pretty thoroughly. Kidnapped from below, brought up in the heights, taught as I was. We'll begin returning them, one by one. I teach off and on, write off and on, observe all the time. The next step will be the biggest. I haven't any idea how we're going to do it. But, as the giant puts it, "Long ago the roof fell in. Now we must push it up again, strengthen it, repair the beams." At this point he smiles to the pupils. "Not just repair them. Replace them! Now we are the beams. Flesh and stone become something much stronger." Ah, but then some dolt will raise a hand and inquire, "What if our arms get tired holding up the sky?" Our task, you see, will not soon be over. |Go to Contents |

Scattershot

(60 of 197) The teddy bear spoke excellent mandarin. It was about fifty centimeters tall, plump, with close-set eyes above a nose unusually long for the generally pug breed. It paced around me, muttering to itself. I rolled over and felt barbs down my back and sides. My arms were reluctant to move. There was something about my will to get up and the way my muscles reacted that was out-of-kilter; the nerves weren't conveying properly. So it was, I thought, with my eyes and the small black-and-white beast they claimed to see: a derangement of phosphene patterns, cross-tied with childhood memories and snatches of linguistics courses ten years past. It began speaking Russian. I ignored it and focused on other things. The rear wall of my cabin was unrecognizable, covered with geometric patterns that shifted in and out of bas-relief and glowed faintly in the shadow cast by a skewed panel light. My fold-out desk had been torn from its hinges and now lay on the floor, not far from my head. The ceiling was cream-colored. Last I remembered it had been a pleasant shade of burnt orange. Thus totaled, half my cabin was still present. The other half had been ferried away in the Disruption. I groaned, and the bear stepped back nervously. My body was gradually coordinating. Bits and pieces of disassembled vision integrated and stopped their random flights, and still the creature walked, and still it spoke, though getting deep into German. It was not a minor vision. It was either real or a full-fledged hallucination. "What's going on?" I asked. It bent over me, sighed, and said, "Of all the fated arrangements. A speaking I know not the best ofAnglo." It held out its arms and shivered. "Pardon the distraught. My cords of psychenerves?they have not decided which continuum to obey this moment." "Mine, too," I said cautiously. "Who are you?" "Psyche, we are all psyche. Take this care and be not content with illusion, this path, this merriment. Excuse. Some writers in English. All I know is from the read." "Am I still on my ship?" "So we are all, andhors de combat. We limp for the duration." I was integrated enough to stand, and I did so, towering above the bear and rearranging my tunic. My left breast ached with a bruise. Because we had been riding at one G for five days, I was wearing a bra, and the bruise lay directly under a strap. Such, to quote, was the fated arrangement. As my wits gathered and held converse, I considered what might have happened and felt a touch of the "distraughts" myself. I (61 of 197) The Venging began to shiver like a recruit in pressure-drop training. We had survived. That is, at least I had survived, out of a crew of forty-three. How many others? "Do you know have you found out" "Worst," the bear said. "Some I do not catch, the deciphering of other things not so hard. Disrupted about

seven, eight hours past. It was a force of many, for I have counted ten separate things not in my

recognition." It grinned. "You are ten, and best yet. We are perhaps not so far in world-lines." We'd been told survival after disruption was possible. Practical statistics indicated one out of a myriad ships, so struck, would remain integral. For a weapon that didn't actually kill in itself, the probability disrupter was very effective. "Are we intact?" I asked. "Fated," the teddy bear said. "I cognize we can even move and seek a base. Depending." "Depending," I echoed. The creature sounded masculine, despite size and a childlike voice. "Are you a

he? Or" "He," the bear said quickly. I touched the bulkhead above the door and ran my finger along a familiar, slightly crooked seam. Had the

disruption kept me in my own universeagainst incalculable oddsor exchanged me to some other? Was either of us in a universe we could call our own? "Is it safe to look around?"

The bear hummed. "Cognizeknow not. Last I saw, others had not reached a state of organizing." It was best to start from the beginning. I looked down at the creature and rubbed a bruise on my forehead. "Wh-where are you from?"

"Same as you, possible," he said. "Earth. Was mascot to captain, for cuddle and advice." That sounded bizarre enough. I walked to the hatchway and peered down the corridor. It was plain and utilitarian, but neither the right color nor configuration. The hatch at the end was round and had a manual sealing system, six black throw-bolts that no human engineer would ever have put on a spaceship. "What's your name?"

(62 of 197) The Venging "Have got no official name. Mascot name known only to captain."

I was scared, so my brusque nature surfaced and I asked him sharply if his captain was in sight, or any other aspect of the world he'd known. "Cognize not," he answered. "Call me Sonok." "I'm Geneva," I said. "Francis Geneva." "We are friends?" "I don't see why not. I hope we're not the only ones who can be friendly. Is English difficult for you?" "Mind not. I learn fast. Practice make perfection." "Because I can speak some Russian, if you want." "Good as I with Anglo?" Sonok asked. I detected a sense of humorand self-esteemin the bear. "No, probably not. English it is. If you need to know anything, don't be embarrassed to ask." "Sonok hardly embarrassed by anything. Was mascot." The banter was providing a solid framework for my sanity to grab on to. I had an irrational desire to take