The Wizard of Anharitte (15 page)

‘I have a suspicion. Dion couldn’t have used a conventional aircraft because you’d have heard the noise of engines. But if he’d had some sort of balloon available he could have used it in relative safety after nightfall. The natural winddrift would have carried them toward Thirdhill or at least into Magda province. And the river lights would have given them an indication of when it was safe to land.’

‘What’s a balloon?’ asked Catuul.

‘A device that figures almost uniquely in ancient Terran history. It’s a bag of gas or hot air—which is lighter than the air in which it floats. A big balloon can carry a basket containing several people. It could have lifted the three of them out of Castle Di Guaard and if you weren’t looking for it you’d never have seen it go. That way the
Imaiz
could have escaped all your traps without resorting to wizardry. It only needs the application of a few physical principles and a bit of technical know-how.’

‘Wizardry or technical know-how, it’s all the same to me,’ said Catuul, ‘What you call wizardry are the things that are done which arc beyond the limits of what your education insists is possible. But the same applies to me. So the difference between our points of view is one of degree, not kind.’

‘Point taken, Catuul. But so far the
Imaiz
has done nothing beyond the comprehension of the average educated outworlder. This makes it reasonably certain that he’s not a native of Roget, and various. historical associations about his schemes strengthen my belief that he’s a Terran.’

The scribe was searching the darkness behind them, looking for something. Occasionally he would answer the low-pitched trade-calls that floated through the darkness. Finally he turned back to Ren and spoke.

‘Hardun’s men who were with you—weren’t they released too?’

‘No. All thirty-five were either killed or injured.’

‘I warned you it was dangerous.’ The scribe’s face was grim. ‘The
Imaiz
never takes chances. And this fetches a point which we must settle between us, friend Tito. There was nothing in our contract about your carrying the fight using outworld soldiery. Nor about the use of longrange outworld weapons. If we were to place this fact before the Elders of the clans, they would relieve the Pointed Tails of any further obligations to you—nor would you obtain clan service elsewhere. The Elders would never consent to a clan’s being party to any outworld scheme of aggression. I’m disappointed in you, Tito. I’d thought you understood us better.’

Ren stopped walking and turned to face the scribe squarely.

‘I do understand you and I admit I’m in error. But circumstances overtook me. Initially I was misled as to the reasons Alek Hardun came to Roget. He came under the guise of an advisor, but now appears to have independent operating status. By the time I was aware of this I found I had no power to stop him. The director has gone to the council to have the matter set to rights.’

‘Yet it was you who took the soldiers to Magda,’ objected Catuul.

‘True. They were available and the exercise was intended purely as a reconnaissance. But when I believed Magda to be abandoned I thought that by one decisive move I might shorten the whole battle. That was a classic blunder that cost Doctor Hardun thirty-five men.’

‘I’d not have expected the price to be less.’ The scribe was critical. ‘Had the
Imaiz
not dealt with them—there are two hundred clansmen from all over the provinces around us now who would have made sure the Rance men never left Thirdhill.’

‘What?’ Ren was aghast. ‘Do you really feel so strongly about them?’

‘We may have our internal disputes in Anharitte, but armed outworld interference transcends any normal act of feud. Were it not so, even Roget could fall under some outworld yoke. Think about it, Tito. You’ll see why it has to be so. And your part in this has been a cardinal transgression.’

‘I can’t deny it. It’s been a sad error both in judgment and in policy. Hardun’s equipment and his tactics have become an embarrassment and were no part of my original intention. And I’m even more unhappy to have broken faith with your society.’

‘But in the light of today’s expedition, how much reliance can we place on your word. Think carefully before you answer—I may yet have to speak for you to the Elders of the clans.’

‘The Elders must decide as they will. And you, too, Catuul. You know me better than most and must decide for yourself. My rejection of Alek Hardun is a personal inability to support hi” views on the cheapness of human life. I can’t say otherwise even to save the spaceport or my job, which depends on it.’

“That’s precisely what I wanted to hear,’ said the scribe. ‘But I’ve been less than frank with you. The Elders have already discussed the matter in council. They gave two decisions. The first is that all society services will be withdrawn from outworlders until Hardun and his ship have been removed—’

‘And the second?’

‘That you were to be killed unless I personally was satisfied with your intention and your integrity.’

‘And have you come to that decision?’ Ren felt his sword hang heavily at his side.

‘Of course.’ Catuul’s smile broadened in the dim light from the night sky. ‘Or you would have been dead within minutes of leaving Castle Magda. Come, friend Tito, we have your cushion-craft waiting on the far side of the crossing.’

‘All thirty live men?’ Hardun’s voice reached the peak of incredulity.

‘It wouldn’t have mattered if they had been a hundred,’ said Ren. “The
Imaiz
is more than a match for anything you can put up. Frankly, your tactics have become a liability. I’ve sent a spacegram to the Free Trade Council expressing the opinion that if you’re allowed to remain on Roget the spaceport facility will certainly be lost.’

‘You did what?’ Hardun’s new peak of disbelief was suddenly tempered by relief. “Now I know you’re joking, Tito. I see copies of every spacegram transmitted from here. I know damn well you’ve sent no such thing.’

‘You used to see copies,’ corrected Ren. ‘The Free Trade Council has already instructed the spaceport staff not to cooperate with you and they’re leaning heavily on Rance to have you pulled out. I know of this because I held a personal conversation with the director at Free Trade Central. And you won’t receive a recording of that either. He confirmed everything I’d learned about the Butcher of Turais.’

‘Turais? That old propaganda line—’ Hardun was vehement. ‘If you’d believe that you’d believe anything.’

‘I would believe anything about you, Alek. That’s why I complained to the council. The urgency of your removal can’t be overstressed. They’re to hold a debate on it. I imagine the result will be to apply some tough sanctions against Rance until they’re forced to order you out. I don’t imagine that’ll make you very popular with your masters, either. So I’m advising you now to get offworld before the storm really breaks.’

‘I’ll see you in hell first, Tito. I wouldn’t dream of moving a centimeter unless I get specific instructions from Rance Politico.’

‘Very conformative. But I wasn’t asking you to go—I was warning you not to stay. Your departure is imminent, Either you decamp of your own volition or run the very probable risk of being removed, perhaps violently, by someone like the
Imaiz
. And if that happens Rance will be spared much loss of face—so I don’t imagine they’ll grieve unduly.’

‘The risk is negligible. It’s a complete certainty there’s nothing on Roget that can harm an armed battle cruiser at dock.’

‘I don’t share your certainty. The societies have withdrawn all services until your ship has been removed. The
Imaiz
not only has no opposition, but can—probably acquire substantial assistance if he requires it. And I don’t think Di Irons is going to miss the point for very long—in which case the planetary government will also be involved. So the opposition ranged against you runs from Dion-daizan through the Free Trade Council up to possible intervention by the Galactic Federation. If you get offworld now you might just about save your own skin.’

‘You’re either a brave man or a complete fool,’ said Hardun savagely. ‘I’ve killed men before for offering a whole lot less provocation. Your outlook’s so far adrift from the realities of galactic life that you’re really too pathetic to be true.’

‘I’ve been around, Alek. And wherever I’ve been I’ve looked in depth as well as at the surface. It’s not a perspective you’d understand, but it means I can back my judgment against yours with a reasonable chance of being right.’

Ren turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. It was obvious that his attempt to persuade Hardun to go voluntarily had met with no sort of success. Ren’s knowledge of spaceport security measures—and of the detection and defense capabilities of a docked battle cruiser—did not incline him to place much faith in the idea that the
Imaiz
would have a greater success by his own methods. They would probably have to wait until the pressure on Rance brought about an official recall. Ren shuddered. In the meantime Hardun could act without restriction—and if he accepted that his period of opportunity was limited, the next twenty-four hours could be a very crucial time in Anharitte’s history.

It might have been his imagination affecting his interpretation of the scene or it might have been some social reflection of the societies’ decision, but Ren had the distinct impression of unease in the city as he returned. The markets were quiet, almost deserted. The streets were far less crowded than usual and his own office Was deserted and dead. His bondservants had been withdrawn by the Pointed Tails—whose legal property they were—and the normally busy household was at a standstill. Ren was even forced into the extreme of doing his own shopping when he wished to eat—and the preparation of his solitary meal was a process which caused him to think seriously about his next move.

He could not back down on his stand against Hardun, nor could he reasonably do more than he had done to secure the latter’s departure. There appeared to be no basis for any sort of pact with the
Imaiz
that would not be compromising later—and in any case, Ren felt that he had nothing of interest to offer. The best mode of release from the impasse would undoubtedly be the swift intervention by the Free Trade Council acting on Rance. Ren could only hope that the council would successfully act before Di Irons began to examine too closely reasons behind the Pointed Tails’ decision to withdraw their services. If the prefect were to learn the truth about the rocket launcher on the plains he would have no option but to start a chain of protests that must involve the planetary government and ultimately the Galactic Federation itself.

Di Irons, then, was the main problem for the moment. Idly Ren speculated on the strategy for a successful pattern of bluff if the prefect’s sure nose for trouble should lead him too close to the truth. The answers were not encouraging. He therefore decided that this would be a prudent time to visit some of the more distant of the company’s trading installations. By this ruse he could probably delay a confrontation until the removal of Alek Hardun was an accomplished fact. Accordingly he packed in preparation for an early start and retired exhausted to his bed.

An explosion—or rather a series of explosions—broke him savagely out of his sleep. He awoke in alarm as multiple flashes of light glared in window-patterned squares of whiteness from the walls of his room. The thunder followed swiftly. Ren leaned back, prepared to listen to the storm—until it slowly filtered into his consciousness that there was no such thing as a storm on Roget.

In an instant of panic he flung himself from his bed and put his head out of the window. The night sky was ringing as yet another great explosion from the direction of the plains shredded the unwilling air. Without pausing to dress Ren ran downstairs to the microwave communicator. As he turned on the stair the largest explosion yet made the building vibrate. Only the distance in the quality of the sound made him certain that the explosion was at the spaceport. The nature and effect of so violent a blast at that point of origin was something he scarcely dared to consider.

Although he called both on the service and emergency frequencies, he could obtain no reply from the spaceport control. This silence was unprecedented and suggested a state of crisis so acute that even the information backup for the Disaster Center was unobtainable. This convincingly fitted the scale of the catastrophe he had deduced from the intensity of the shockwaves. It was credible that as much as a quarter of the spaceport installation had been destroyed. On an undeveloped world like Roget, where civil emergency services were virtually nonexistent, the entire work of disaster containment and rescue work would have to be handled by the spaceport’s own personnel.

Ren dressed hurriedly. He did not even need light in his rooms. The sky, made bright by the angry redness of a major spaceport fire; provided more than adequate illumination. Knowing that his training would enable him to do little in the way of offering practical assistance, his intention on reaching the street door had been merely to walk to the limits of Firsthill in order to gain a better view. As he descended the steps, however, two armed watchmen flung themselves hurriedly across his path.

‘Agent Ren, you’re not permitted to leave.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Prefect Di Irons’ orders. You’re to be confined to your chambers until he’s free to deal with you.’

‘But why the hell? This is no doing of mine.’

‘That you must discuss with him. But you’d better be convincing. Nights such as this were never known in Anharitte before you made trouble with the
Imaiz
.’

Ren allowed himself to be escorted back into the chambers, where the watchmen maintained an uncommunicative guard. When the light of the morning was well advanced, he heard other noises in the house’ and soon guessed that his bondservants had been returned and were picking up their duties as though no interruption of service had occurred. Shortly his breakfast tray was placed before him. His guards were completely ignored.

By such signs he knew that Alek Hardun had been wrong in his certainty that no force on Roget was capable of dealing with an armed space cruiser at dock. It was a fair bet that about a third of the spaceport installation had gone with it. By some ingenious piece of wizardry a way had been found through all the alarms and defenses and the
Imaiz
had made good his promise.