It was long after Mid-Patra, and, as usual, the Gostum were training. The Gostum were always training for something, although Paddelack never quite understood why or against whom, unless his own discipline theory was, in fact, the answer. But now that they had a Commander, they trained even more fervently. Paddelack himself, at this moment, had a sword in hand but found that he tired easily. There seemed so little air to breathe here during the Patra. That might explain why the Gostum were so amazingly strong, always training with so little air. Pike, though, seemed to be enjoying himself.
There he was, his sword against Karrxlyn’s ax. Karrxlyn swung heavily, and Paddelack was sure that the blow would cleave Pike in two, but Pike neatly avoided it. Pike’s sword, however, was in the way and snapped under the crushing blow; the sharp twang of breaking metal resounded throughout the room. Karrxlyn leaped; Pike backed up. Suddenly, in mid-flight it seemed, Karrxlyn winced and stopped his charge. A small trickle of blood oozed from his shoulder as a gleaming metal object flashed by.
Don’t worry,
Pike laughed, but in a serious
voice. I didn’t poison it.
He left Karrxlyn standing in amazement in the middle of the floor, received
his cape from an attendant, and walked over to Paddelack. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you
about,
he said.
Paddelack pulled his raven’s nose. Tell me,
what’s that?
It has been suggested that you move into your own
quarters.
Paddelack cocked his head. Why? No, don’t tell
me. They think we’re having an affair.
Pike didn’t laugh. But, after all, I am Commander, am
I not?
Scenes flashed quickly; the cold air creeping into the emergency
chamber; fires; huddling. Yes, I am Commander, am I
not?
Paddelack glanced briefly at the ground, pulled on his nose again, and
looked up once more into Pike’s eyes. I’ll tell
you this, Pike,
he said in Bitter. Fooling
the Gostum into thinking you’re Polkraitz is fine with me and may have its
uses. But be careful about fooling yourself.
This is the Golun-Patra,
Pike answered with a sly
smile, and we have done some amazing things, wouldn’t
you agree?
I’ll agree that theorizing by coincidences will
get you into a lot of trouble.
When the coincidences become large in number, one
begins to wonder, doesn’t one?
One begins to become a fanatic,
Paddelack
grumbled.
Pike overheard this, glared at the thin man, and turned away. The storm of dust that was swept up by his cape blew into Paddelack’s eyes.
Paddelack moved out of Pike’s chamber very shortly, in fact,
immediately. His new quarters were, by Liddlefuran standards, still quite
regal, so he didn’t complain. He did, however, sneeze often, since for some
reason the heating system was faulty in this section of Konndjlan and his
room was cold. But at least he wasn’t awakened when a guard would enter to
get Pike, so now he could sleep late.
Whatever that meant.
Finally the cold became too annoying, and Paddelack discovered that despite the maze of passageways needed to reach it, the workroom containing his newly built steam engine was, in fact, nearby. Using scraps of old Polkraitz equipment from the storerooms, he fashioned a crude radiator for his room; and after hacking a hole through several walls and floors—a process that took more than a beclad—he connected it to the steam engine. He ran back to his room to enjoy the heat but ended up enjoying only the clanking and rattling of the pipe works. After several more beclads of this noise he had had enough and shut the contraption off.
Occasionally Paddelack’s thoughts would turn back to Daryephna and ahead to Triesk. The metallic hydrogen might be there; rockets were certainly there; the explanation of the Polkraitz was likely to be there. The major intersection at Triesk was clearly marked on the huge map. Pike’s reasoning had an annoying grain of consistency running through it that made refutation difficult, even though sometimes it seemed totally mad. But perhaps he was right and Triesk held the answers. The wait would be worth the cold and the sneezing.
While he waited, Paddelack continued working on the steam system for the Gostum. At first he wasn’t sure why he did it, since he was convinced that the result would be no better than what the Gostum had already and would not solve the ventilation problem, only alleviate it, and any modifications he could make in the Patra remaining would be minimal. When he showed the Gostum engineers how to use their steam engine as a pump, they became very excited, and the activity in the shops increased threefold.
But Paddelack came to know that his activity was merely a desperate attempt to keep his mind off the clocks, the clocks that showed that the Patra was rapidly drawing to a close. But the attempt did not work. Every time he neared the great hall, he could feel his pulse beat faster and faster as he stole a glance at the two timepieces. Now they differed by a full beclad. Paddelack could only gnaw at his lip because there was absolutely no way to tell which was correct. An extra beclad to wait if the slower one was telling the truth. Could he stand it? No. This time as Paddelack neared the council chamber, the clock was unbearable to him, each clack resounding through the halls. This time he could not stand to see how much longer he might have to wait. He turned and ran away from the sounds of the swinging pendulum and foliot bars, down the corridors to the stables.
He pulled the lever that lowered the floor. Far off, the steam from a buried mechanism whistled and the platform slowly sank. In front of Paddelack was the first of the three great wooden doors that separated him from the outside world. He grimaced and slammed the bolts aside and heaved the door open, hurling it against the tunnel wall. The crash reverberated for endless seconds. Then he passed to the second door, shivering, breath condensing out of the air. He regarded the iron strapping for a moment, set his jaw, and unbolted that one, too.
Creak! screamed the door as he pulled it open.
The subfreezing air hit his body. Paddelack brushed the tears away and ran to the thickest, final door, the only one keeping him from the Patra. Shaking, almost numb, he pounded away at the heavy wood, reinforced with ancient metal.
Curse you!
he cried again and again.
Now he crumpled to his knees and his body shook with convulsive sobs. After a few moments he slowly stood up, walked past the second door, and shut it behind him with its great creak shouting in protest. He passed the inner door and pulled it close with a deep thud. He swiveled around, hit it once with his fist, and returned to the stables.
How did the Gostum do it? Paddelack asked himself for the hundredth time. At least on Massarat, the incredible easiness about everything, variable families included, went a long way to explain the ability to cope with the Patra. But the Gostum, although biologically identical, didn’t use that system. Paddelack wished he could change his body rhythm at will to a Patra-Bannk per cycle, but he knew he couldn’t. He could do nothing but pound and wait. As the depression gave way to embarrassment, Paddelack paced absently toward the great hall.
The council was in session. Effrulyn and his fixed Angles were there. So was Fara-Ny, whose myriad wrinkles well disguised his intentions. Karrxlyn, the warrior, never strayed far from Pike, and so all were gathered and already talking when Paddelack walked in late, having paced there by coincidence. He had not known the time.
Now,
Pike was in the process of saying, I plan on using the stala to do some investigating of my
own and see if anything can be discovered. I have promised to help you, and
the stala will make things easier in that regard.
But the Fear, Commander. Only certain Elsewheres
are open to us because the Fear is absent.
Yes, I know. I will be careful.
Pike could not
help but remember that moment in Daryephna. The encounter had been brief,
but something had stuck in his head. A single word or Command waiting to be
crystallized. It meant nothing now, but it would. Now,
he continued, your sources
indicate that Triesk is a large city, something over ten thousand. Which
means we will need help from others…Ah, Paddelack. Sit down. Tell us, do
you think the Liddlefurans will come to our aid?
Paddelack blinked and brushed away the dirt from his hand. Aid? For what?
In case we should need them against Triesk.
Why should we?
Reconnaissance shows that Triesk has many more
inhabitants than Konndjlan. Therefore we will need reinforcements. Perhaps
even more than Massarat can provide.
Paddelack pulled his nose and squinted his eyes. Hold on here. Why do we need reinforcements at
all?
If we have to mount a siege, it will not be easy.
Siege! Sarek, who said anything about a siege?
You said we would go up there and take a look and see what was there and
help these Gostum find what they wanted. A siege?
Calm down, Paddy, my friend. The Gostum have already
asked the Trieskans for help but can’t even get negotiations started. We
must issue a final ultimatum, but, of course, we must be prepared for the
eventuality that it will be refused. No decision has yet been made—
My eye, no decision had yet been made! I knew
something like this was going to happen. Do you see what you’ve gotten
into?
Paddelack was already on his feet. He took a last look at the
ventilated torches whose soot, left from the Bannk, smudged the relief
above them, took a last look at the two clocks on the dais, one short and
squat, the other tall and slender, both noisy, then turned around and began
walking toward the archway.
Remember, we have promised to help the Gostum. We must
be good to our word. Everyone must be taken away from Patra-Bannk. To stay
on a world like this is perpetual madness. Don’t you see what we are trying
to do? We are simply trying to help, and they need my leadership. Isn’t
that clear even to you?
Paddelack was, by this time, almost out of the room. No! I won’t have anything to do with it. Be
Commander for all I care. I’m going back to Massarat.
Fara-Ny coughed, and Karrxlyn leaped in front on Paddelack with sword drawn.
No,
Pike called, and he laughed. Let him go. He’ll be back. After all, he’s a suicide
case, anyway.
Then he spoke to Paddelack directly. Just inform Massarat of our desire to be honored by their
assistance.