Part 21 (2/2)
”That was half an hour ago, Mesla,” Angie protested.
”Well?”
”There aren't that many left and the bigger dragons would have first choice, wouldn't they?” she went on.
”Don't worry,” Jule told her, ”some'll come free by the time we need them.” Then she covered her mouth, aware of what she had just implied. I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I mean, I wouldn't think of moving in.”
”Just shut up, Jule,” Sarra said in a quiet but firm voice.
There was a long moment of silence, with no-one daring to look at anyone.
”Say, who has the salve?” Grasella asked softly from the bunk beyond her, breaking the almost intolerable silence. ”My fingers are itching again. No-one told me I'd have to cope with chilblains while dealing with dragons.”
Angie found it in her furs and pa.s.sed it on.
”After you,” Debera said softly as she gave it to Grasella.
The easy laughing chatter was over for the night.
”I haven't had much time,” Jemmy told Clisser in his most uncooperative tone of voice when Clisser asked how he was coming on the last of the History Ballads. ”Had to look up all that law stuff.”
”Why'd you have to take so much trouble with those fragging guards? They shoulda all been dropped on the islands, right away. None of this trial farce.”
”The trials were not farces, Jemmy,” said Clisser, so uncharacteristically reproving that Jemmy looked up in a state of amazement. ”The trials were necessary. To prove that we would not act in an arbitrary fas.h.i.+on.
”You mean, the way Chalkin would have,” and Jemmy grinned, his uneven teeth looking more vulpine than ever in his long face.
”Exactly.”
”You're wasting too much time on him.” Jemmy turned back to reading.
”What are you looking up?”
”I don't know. I'm looking because I know there's something we can use to check on the Red Planet's position, something so simple I'm disgusted I can't call it to mind. I know I've seen it somewhere.” Irritably he pushed the volume away from him.
”It'd help a great deal if the people who copied for us had had decent handwriting. I spend too much time trying to decipher it.” Abruptly he reached across the cluttered work-top to the windowsill and plonked down in front of him a curious apparatus. ”Here's your new computer.” He grinned up at Clisser who regarded the object - bright coloured beads strung on ten narrow rods, divided into two unequal portions.
”What is it?” Clisser exclaimed, picking it up and finding that the beads moved stiffly up and down on the rods.
”An abacus, they called it. A counter. Ancient and still functional.” Jemmy took the device from Clisser and demonstrated.
”It'll take the place of a calculator. Most are down now. Oh, and I found the designs for this, too.” He fumbled around his papers and withdrew an instrument consisting of a ruler with a central sliding piece, both marked with logarithmic scales. ”You can do quite complicated mathematical calculations on this slide-rule, as they called it. Almost as fast as you could type into a digital pad.” Clisser looked from one to the other. ”So that's what a slide rule looks like. I saw one mentioned in a treatise on early calculators but I never thought we'd have to resort to ancient devices. And mention of an abacus, too, actually. You have been busy reinventing alternatives.”
”And I'll find that other device, too, if you'll leave me alone and don't dump more vitally important, urgent research on me.”
”I'm hoping,” Clisser said at his most diplomatic, ”that you can give me something to show before the Winter Solstice and Turn's End.”
Jemmy shot straight up in his chair. c.o.c.ked his head and stared at Clisser so that Clisser leaned forward hopefully, holding his breath lest he disrupt Jemmy's concentration.
”Fraggit,” and Jemmy collapsed again, beating his fists on the table. ”It has to DO with Solstices.”
”Well, if you've gone back to abacii and slide-rules, why not a sun-dial clock?” Clisser asked facetiously.
Jemmy sat up again, even straighter. ”Not a sun-dial,” he said slowly, ”but a cosmic clock - a star dial like... stone stone SOMETHING.”
”Stonehenge?”
”What was that?”
”A prehistoric structure back on Earth. Sallisha can tell you more about it if you'd care to ask her,” Clisser said slyly and was rewarded by Jemmy's rude dismissal of the suggestion. ”It turned out to be rather an astonis.h.i.+ng calendar since it accurately predicted eclipses as well as verifying Solstices dawn.” Clisser stopped, looking wide-eyed at Jemmy whose mouth had dropped open to form a soundless 'O' as what he said astounded them both.
”Only that was a stone circle... on a plain...” Clisser stammered, gesturing dolmens and cross-beams. Muttering under his breath, he strode across to the shelves, trying to find the text he wanted. ”We must have copied it. We had to have copied it.”
”Not necessarily since you've been on these relevant only historical entries,” Jemmy contradicted him.
”I remember accessing it once. It's only that we'll have to adapt it to fit our needs, which is framing the Red Planet when the conjunction is right.” He was scrabbling amongst the litter on his desk for a clean sheet of paper and a pencil.
”The first three he found were either stubs or broken. That's another thing we've got to re-invent... fountain pens.”
”Fountain pens?” Clisser echoed. ”Never heard of fountain pens.”
”I'll do them tomorrow. Leave me to work this out but,” and Jemmy paused long enough to grin diabolically up at Clisser's befuddlement, ”I think I'll have something by Turn's End. Maybe even a model... but only if you leave now.” Clisser left, closing the door quietly behind him and pausing a moment.
”I do believe I've been kicked out of my own office,” he said, pivoting to regard the door. His name, which had recently been repainted, was centered in the upper panel.
”Hmm.” He turned the sign hung there on a nail to DO NOT DISTURB” and walked away whistling the chorus from the 'Duty Song'. He'd catch Sallisha before she climbed up the stairs to his office. That would please her. Well, it might.
He hurried down the steps and met her coming in the door.
”I'm not late,” she said, at her most caustic, her arm tightening convulsively on the bulging notebook she carried.
He was in for it.
”I didn't say you were. Let's take the more comfortable option of the teachers' lounge.”
”My conclusions are not something you'll wish to discuss in public,” she said, recoiling. She might be one of his best teachers though the rumor was that children learned their lessons to get out of her clutches - but her att.i.tude towards him, and his proposed revitalization program, was totally hostile.
Clisser smiled as graciously as he could. ”It's empty right now and will be for at least two hours.”
She sniffed but, when he courteously gestured for her to precede him, she tramped on in an implacable fas.h.i.+on. Like a Morinst to his Clisser shuddered and hurriedly followed her.
The lounge was empty, a good fire crackling on the hearth.
The klah pitcher rested on the warmer and there were, for a change, clean cups. He wondered if Bethany had done the housekeeping.
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