Part 12 (1/2)
”You go drink that fizzy puppy-dog water, little boy,” Bav Tchornoi advised. ”I do not give up, me.”
”I am go also,” declared Mesq'r Zavune.
”Have you an alternative to recommend?” Girays inquired of his host.
”We do,” Crinkle-beard told him. ”Quite a good one, for those among you ready to avail yourselves of it.”
”You sound as if you think we might not be ready,” Luzelle hazarded.
”Possibly not. Hear me through, and then judge,” the savant advised. ”All of you are foreigners, but you probably recognize the double-headed dragon insignia that you see here today, and you know approximately what it means. You understand that my colleagues and I belong to a very old Lanthian organization devoted to the investigation of obscure phenomena. One such phenomenon encompa.s.ses the swift and precise conveyance of large objects from one point in s.p.a.ce to another. The room in which we now gather has belonged to one member of the Select or another, as long as the Mauranyza Dome has stood. The proof of our tenancy is both tangible and relevant.”
What in the world is he on about? Luzelle wondered again. Luzelle wondered again.
”Come, and I will show you,” Crinkle-beard answered the unspoken query. ”Come with me.” Rising from his chair, he made for the far side of the room, where a threadbare, almost colorless circular rug of ancient workmans.h.i.+p drably masked a section of floor. His listeners followed and watched with interest as the savant flipped the rug aside, uncovering a hexagonal slab of black gla.s.s. Beneath the polished surface thousands of golden flecks glittered like a galaxy, seeming by some trick of design to extend an immeasurable distance.
”You see before you an ancient gla.s.s of transference known as an ophelu,” ophelu,” explained their host. ”The origin and history of the device need not concern you now-suffice it to say that the Select have guarded its secret for generations. By application of the discipline that we Lanthians call 'Cognition,' the ophelu may be stimulated to induce a negative-temporal s.h.i.+ft of cargo.” explained their host. ”The origin and history of the device need not concern you now-suffice it to say that the Select have guarded its secret for generations. By application of the discipline that we Lanthians call 'Cognition,' the ophelu may be stimulated to induce a negative-temporal s.h.i.+ft of cargo.”
”Negative-temporal?” Girays prompted, intrigued.
”The object of transference,” Crinkle-beard told him, ”reaches its destination a moment or so before it sets off. This displacement is so slight and unnoticeable that it may be called negligible, but is interesting nonetheless.”
”How do you know that such a displacement occurs? How have you measured its duration, and under what circ.u.mstances?” probed Girays. ”What do you regard as negligible? What is the cause of this anomaly, and during its term, are we to a.s.sume that the object of transference exists simultaneously in two separate locations? Speaking of which, does the nature of the object-organic or inorganic, living or dead, insectile or human, et cetera-in any way affect the outcome, and if so-”
”Will you for once stop pus.h.i.+ng pus.h.i.+ng?” hissed Luzelle.
”I'm not pus.h.i.+ng. Will you for once stop and think think-”
”Your questions might be answered, Master v'Alisante,” the savant interrupted, ”but only at the cost of some time, which you can ill afford. Will you consent to postpone the interrogation?”
Girays inclined his head.
”You say this send us to Hurba before we go?” inquired Mesq'r Zavune.
”Imagine-for a single s.h.i.+ning instant-four of us!” Stesian Festinette elbowed his brother exuberantly.
”That beats the Demon Tax Collector stunt, Tref, I swear it does!”
”Not straight to Hurba, sir,” Crinkle-beard answered Zavune's query. ”The sundered half of this ophelu lies in a castle, well beyond the city limits of Lanthi Ume. Once you are there, one of our people will guide you across the Gravula Wasteland to a second gla.s.s, which will in turn transport you to the caverns of the Nazara Sin, whose inhabitants-traditional friends of the Select-will send you on to Hurba.”
”Sounds complicated,” observed Luzelle. ”Are you sure it wouldn't be fastest for us simply to-”
”If all goes well, your entire group should reach your destination by sunset today.”
”If?” demanded Trefian.
”We're not likely to pop up inside a cow or something, are we?” Stesian worried.
”I care nothing for the risks,” Bav Tchornoi proclaimed. ”I only ask-this thing, this gla.s.s here-it works?”
”It works,” Crinkle-beard a.s.sured him.
”Then I will use it,” Tchornoi announced. ”These others may do as they please, but I will go.”
”I also,” said Zavune.
”Include me,” requested Luzelle. Really, there was no choice. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Girays shoot her a quelling glance, but she ignored him. He ought to know by now that she was hardly one to fear unconventional methods of travel. Let him back down himself, if he thought it so dangerous.
”I'll go,” said Girays without enthusiasm.
The Festinettes traded glances, and bobbed their heads in unison.
”Excellent.” Crinkle-beard nodded. ”The larger the illicit exodus, the greater the affront to the Grewzians. But the ophelu cannot bear all of you at once. Your group of six must split in half.”
”I go first,” declared Tchornoi, glaring a challenge that was superfluous, for n.o.body opposed him. ”Who comes also I do not care, but I go first. When do you send me?”
”Now.”
”Good. What do I do?”
”Step onto the gla.s.s slab.”
Tchornoi complied. Smiling as if they imagined themselves about to embark on a pleasure jaunt, the Festinette twins joined him. When all three stood upon the ophelu, one of Crinkle-beard's colleagues produced a tiny jar full of white crystalline matter, depositing small heaps of the stuff at the vertices of the hexagon.
”What is this?” Tchornoi squinted suspiciously. He received no answer.
Crinkle-beard bowed his head and spoke. As the rhythmic syllables flew from his lips, the six powdery mounds ignited. Flames leapt and circled the ophelu. Ghostly vapors arose. The savant spoke on, and the vapors thickened, paled, and whirled in crazy spirals.
Cognition. The real thing. Lips parted in wonder, Luzelle watched. Lips parted in wonder, Luzelle watched.
Tchornoi and the Festinettes were invisible now, lost in the roiling mists; their cries, if any, drowned in the roar of a Cognitive hurricane. Luzelle pressed her hands to her ears, straining her eyes in vain to pierce the white blindness. She could see nothing, hear nothing intelligible, but sensed the psychic a.s.sault of vast forces.
And then it was over, the white hurricane abruptly stilled, the surging alien energy exhausted. The riotous mists vanished in an instant to reveal an ophelu s.h.i.+ning and empty. Tchornoi and the Festinettes were gone.
n.o.body stirred, n.o.body said a word.
”They are safe.” Crinkle-beard finally broke the staring silence. No reaction from the stunned Ellipsoids, and he added, ”They stand beneath the roof of Castle Io Wesha, some leagues beyond the city limits. Come, are you dazed? Surely you had some idea what to expect.” No reply, and he inquired at last, ”Are the three of you still willing to follow them?”
Wordlessly Mesq'r Zavune stepped onto the hexagonal slab. In silence Luzelle and Girays joined him. She wished that Girays would hold her hand, but would have died rather than let him know it. She stole a glance at his profile, noting the grim set of the jaw, and wondered if it would be the last look-wondered if the two of them stood within moments of uncanny annihilation.
What if we simply vanish? Forever? Her mouth was dry, which was a pity, for there were many things she wanted to say to him, she realized belatedly, and perhaps there would never be another chance. Her mouth was dry, which was a pity, for there were many things she wanted to say to him, she realized belatedly, and perhaps there would never be another chance.
Too late.
One of the black-robed figures was already replenis.h.i.+ng the mounds of crystalline matter at the vertices of the slab. Crinkle-beard bowed his head and he was speaking again, chanting rhythmic syllables that she couldn't quite distinguish, but knew on instinct she would never understand.
The mounds ignited and the white vapors swirled back into being. Unthinkingly Luzelle seized Girays's arm and felt rather than saw his eyes turn toward her. Her own eyes remained fixed on Crinkle-beard, all but obscured by the mists, but still incomprehensibly audible. And now another sound was audible as well, some sort of purely mundane commotion on the landing outside the bowl-shaped chamber-a clatter of footfalls, a vocal clamor, an imperative pounding of fists on the door.