The Shadow and Night (103 page)

A moment later, the ship slowed to a dead stop, dropped slightly, and then, with a thud and a gentle bounce, settled slowly down to a horizontal angle.

“Stable,” Perena pronounced over the speakers. “Location correct. Team, you are clear to leave. God be with you.”

Even before she had finished speaking, Merral was already heading for the hold. By the time he arrived, the port-side door was raised, a ramp had been lowered, and in the dim lighting, men were already working on unloading the sled.

Carefully, Merral clambered down the ramp and stood on the ground. Here there was a cool, fresh breeze on his cheek. The smell of pinewoods wafted past him, clearing away the stale and all-too-human air from the hold. The night air seemed to speak to him of the past, of the unsullied days before the intruders arrived, and for a moment, Merral felt he could almost weep. He was aware of Zak giving low, curt orders to his men as they manhandled the sled out on its trolley and then the whispers and grunts as the men pushed and rolled it down the ramp.

Merral looked at the stars above the ragged tips of the firs.
I would give a lot to see the hexagon of the Gate again. And a lot more still to be camping out here with no cares except that of filling in my trip report.
As if to deepen his mood, there came the call of an owl from within the woods.

A few minutes later there was the faintest of whines as, safely distant from the ship's electronics, the gravity-modifying engine came on and the sled floated up and free. As they loaded the trolley back into the hold, Merral saw someone come over and stand by him. In the starlight he recognized Zak.

“Sir,” Zak said in clipped tones, and it came to Merral that no one had acquired the trappings of soldiering better than Zachary Larraine, “my team is clear and the sled is operational.”

“Good work so far, Zak,” Merral said. Then he realized that he didn't know what else to say to a man who, in all probability, he would next meet at the scene of a battle.

Merral hugged him.

“For the Assembly, sir,” said Zak, returning the hug.

“For the Assembly, amen and amen,” Merral answered, feeling surprisingly moved.

Zak stood back, and in the darkness, Merral made out a salute. Merral returned it and clambered back on board. “Perena,” he announced, looking toward the wall microphone, “Zak's team is clear. Ready to go.”

“Okay,” came the response, and even as the hatch door slid down, the faint hull vibration trebled its force. Within seconds, the
Emilia Kay
was airborne and turning on her axis.

Merral climbed up out of the hold, which now looked much less crowded, and returned to the cabin. Exchanging smiles with Anya, he went over and squatted by Louis and Erika who were making desultory conversation.

“Twenty minutes or so going south and then we drop you off,” Merral said. “You're ready?”

The diplomatic team had seen some of the images from Felicity, but only Fred Huang, the team leader, had seen the awful final frame. Louis looked at him. “Yes. I'm trying to maintain my faith that negotiation may work. But now, after those images, I expect otherwise.” His voice was calm and resolute, and Merral found himself with a new respect for this man.

“I also,” returned Merral after a pause.

Erika just nodded an obviously reluctant assent. Then, after a short silence, she turned to Merral and spoke in a confiding tone. “Captain, I just want to say that if our mission gets in trouble, I expect you to put gaining the intruder ship as a priority.”

“Thank you,” Merral answered slowly. “I know that, but I am grateful for you saying it. Fred and Nate will do their best. They are under orders to get out as soon as there are any hostilities.”

Louis merely nodded with an air of resignation.

“Not long now then,” was all he said.

Shortly after, Perena set down the ship on a bank of rough sand on the side of another river valley, and as they manhandled the cumbersome hoverer onto the ground, Merral clambered out again. Unlike the sleds, the hoverer had conventional hydrogen turbines and could have been switched on in the hold, but it was still too crowded and there was too much sand and dust about. As they heaved and slid it out down the ramp, Merral walked some paces clear from the ship and peered around in the darkness.

At first, all he could see was the dull sparkling silver water of the river as it tumbled down out of the crater on its way to the sea. Then, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, he began to make out towering cliff walls on either side, with dark gray forests draping their flanks. Behind him stood the great mass of the
Emilia Kay,
with little figures moving below it holding shielded flashlights as the pale hull of the hoverer emerged on the sandbank. They were a hundred and fifty kilometers away from the intruder ship here, but it had been estimated that it would take most of the rest of the night for the sluggish machine to make its way up the river and across the rough ground to the southern part of Fallambet Lake Five.

As a cool gust of air blew past him, Merral shivered slightly. Even with the start of summer only a few weeks away, here in this windy valley it was still barely warm. Merral looked up at the thousands of perfect twinkling diamonds of the stars and was strangely reminded of that fateful night before Nativity when he had first met Vero and had seen the stars on the journey south from Wilamall's Farm. As he thought about it, Merral was reminded that it had been that night that he had had the first strange conversation with Jorgio Serter.

Jorgio!

With a start, Merral realized what it was that he had forgotten to do. He had made a promise to contact Jorgio before there was any fighting. He was halfway to switching on his diary before he realized that it was disabled. He jogged back across the coarse, gritty sand to the
Emilia Kay,
where Vero was standing quietly in the hold doorway.

“Vero!” Merral said. “I've just remembered. I've got to call Jorgio. Can I use your diary?”

Vero, his dark face lit only by the dull gleam of the dimmed interior lights, appeared to hesitate. “Is it really needed?” he said. “I'm trying to keep communications to the minimum.”

“He said that he would pray for us if it came to a fight.”

“Ah.” Vero nodded in the darkness. “I suppose you'd better tell him. After what I have seen today, I feel unsettled. I think we will need all the help we can get. But—please—say as little as you can. Be brief.”

Fortunately, Jorgio turned out to be with his brother Daoud and had not yet gone to bed. “Jorgio! It's Merral.”

“Why now, Mister Merral!” said the old man, staring at the diary from such an odd angle that Merral wondered whether he had ever used one. “And where might you be with so little light, eh?”

“About the King's business. On a task we discussed.”

“Oh,
war.
So it has come to that, has it?” The old man scratched his crooked nose leisurely. “About time really. Well, I suppose I'm glad of it. Hmm . . .” He seemed to drift off into his own thoughts.

“You asked me to tell you. I—
we—
need your prayers.”

“I thank you. I knew it would happen, but I appreciate not being forgotten. And I will pray.”

“Thank you,” Merral replied.

Jorgio looked at him with his thick eyebrows raised. He smiled strangely. “Off to war! Just like Lucas Ringell in the old days. You remember him?”

Merral shivered, and as he did, the cold metal disc tingled against his chest. “Yes, Jorgio. I know of him. But that was a long time ago.”

“Quite so. And things change. . . . Or do they?” There was now a strange, wild look on the old man's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Merral saw Vero watching him and gesturing urgently with his hand.

“I must go, my friend. But do you have any counsel?”

“Me?” There was a tilted grin. “Oh, hardly. Only I'll pray. But I think you'll have some help.”

“From who?”

“Well, I'd say as the King will send whoever he sees fit. And who it is will depend on who
they
are. But I hardly think he'll let you be outmatched. Mind you, he sets his own terms.”

“I see,” Merral answered, trying to memorize the words so that he could puzzle over them later. “Well, thank you.”

“Fight well, Mister Merral. And remember there are many enemies. Fight well.”

Merral ended the transmission and handed the diary back to Vero.

“So was he helpful?” his friend asked.

“In a way, yes. He thought there would be help.”

“I hope so,” Vero said in a low, self-pitying voice. “The nearer we get, the worse I feel about it.”

There were the sounds of the hoverer being pulled and pushed free of the landing gear.

“Ah, we're ready,” Vero said, pointing to where, by the faint, bleached shape of the hoverer, a man was gesturing. They walked carefully over in the darkness to where Merral could hear the flags on the hoverer making weak fluttering noises in the breeze.

Merral shook hands solemnly with Fred Huang, Nate the pilot, and Louis. There was a lot that he wanted to say to each of them but he felt he couldn't. Then he turned to Erika, and by the metal hull of the hoverer they faced each other in the near total darkness.

“I hope,” he said, “that we shall meet by the lake tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” she replied in a solemn way. “But I am less sure. I fear our diplomatic efforts are doomed. But they must be done. If we perish . . .” She faded away into uncertainty. Then when, moments later, she spoke again, Merral was heartened to hear that her tone had acquired a new, thoughtful confidence. “And so, if we do perish? What better way than in the pursuit of peace? After all, we would follow a good example.”

In the darkness, Merral could vaguely see her reach out and trace something on the fluttering flag by her side. Then a gleam of starlight caught the fabric, and he was able to discern that, in the symbol of the Assembly, she was touching the Lamb.

A few minutes later the
Emilia Kay
lifted off and, keeping as low as possible, made its way southwest round the crater rim to the third and final site. Merral stood at the back of the cockpit for the approach to this last landing zone where Frankie's team would be unloaded and the ship and the reserve team would wait until dawn. As slowly as she could, Perena flew in a winding path up a rugged river valley broken by waterfalls, rapids, and vast boulders.

When the scan of the area revealed nothing untoward, Merral approved a landing. From the images he had seen in the planning stages, he knew it was a difficult landing zone, a deep hollow set amid high cliffs. He held his breath as Perena took the ship down vertically, nudging it gently sideways in a series of little taps until it came to rest.

After long seconds of scanning screens and readouts, Perena stroked switches and the ship's engines became suddenly silent. Amid a flurry of orders to the engineer, she got up from her seat and, stretching her arms wearily, came over to Merral. “We can still take off within five minutes if we need to,” she said. “But I want to check our site. Let us survey it together.”

Merral found his armored jacket under his seat and put it on. It was an action he had left to the last moment not just to give him more comfort—it was hard and inflexible—but because he felt that putting it on was symbolic: it was an admission that fighting now seemed inescapable
. And when will I get to take it off?

Leaving Frankie and his men to get the sled out, Merral climbed out of the ship with Perena and peered around in the intense darkness. This was by far and away the darkest site so far, and it was only with difficulty that Merral could make out anything at all. Here they were so deep down into the dry gorge that the sky above them was just a torn, star-filled strip between sheer black walls of rock.

Perena switched on a powerful flashlight and pointed it around the cliff sides.