Pagina creata il 16 Novembre 1997
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In the dim kitchen of her grandfather’s cottage at High Harbor, where so many young people had been flown before the Change, Lanna carefully sifted the meal she had ground and showed it to her aunt.
"This ought to be enough to feed everyone. Don’t you think so?"
Mazal sniffed. "More than enough. If I had my way –"
"You’d probably poison the wretch," Lanna said, smiling in spite of how she felt.
"And would you blame me? Phah! That two-faced toad! And to think that we’ll have to sit here at the table with him, knowing what we know, and swallow all his lies. Honestly, why Shann ever invited him to supper –"
"But he almost had to, Mazal. You know that."
"Oh, I suppose so. If we’re forced to trade with the New Order, we have to pretend to be friendly with them. But it burns me up—the whole thing, I mean. If Shann only knew the truth—"
"But he doesn’t. And we can’t tell him."
"I don’t know. I almost think we should tell him."
"But Teacher said not to."
"Yes, but that was before the trade ship came." Mazal frowned at the peas she had picked and almost angrily began shelling them. "To think that we have to feed that creature—What’s his name?"
"Dyce. Commissioner Dyce. I know how you feel. He’s so—so demanding. You’d think he owns us, the way he acts."
"And he will," Mazal snapped. "If these crazy young ones here let him. It frightens me. That’s why Shann should know the truth. After all, Teacher put him in charge here. As the only doctor, he shouldn’t have to be worried with it—he’s run ragged taking care of everyone. If we could just think of someone else—"
"There isn’t anyone else," Lanna said quietly.
"No, I suppose not. No one that’s old enough and smart enough, that we could trust. It’s an awful situation. I wish I knew what to do."
They looked at each other almost in despair, the very slender, pale girl with the startlingly dark eyes, and the gaunt young redheaded woman who was her aunt. After five years of hardship the difference in their ages had ceased to matter, and their regard for each other was more like that of sisters.
As she thought of Teacher, her grandfather, Lanna bit her lip and glanced out at the gray harbor, where the first trading vessel of the New Order had arrived only today. In its cargo, she knew, were many things the people here needed desperately, and other things they didn’t need at all, but would probably get if they had their way.
"It will soon be time to go to the tower," she said. "When you get in touch with Teacher, why don’t you ask his advice about telling Shann?"
"I—I hate to," her aunt said unhappily. "He’s warned me several times not to tell him. I can see why. Shann’s so absentminded and honest, he could easily let something slip without realizing it."
"Then we’d better keep it to ourselves."
"Maybe so. Teacher’s where he is, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. We’ve got to keep on telling the story he told us to tell, and pray the truth never gets out. If it ever does . . . "
If it ever gets out, Lanna thought, High Harbor will go to pieces in a hurry. Then the New Order will take over, and we’ll all be slaves. Shann could never save us.
In the beginning, she remembered, life hadn’t really been too bad here. Hard, to be sure, but everyone expected it to be hard, and they’d all pitched in and sort of made a game of it. Shann and Mazal hadn’t been married long, and the young ones all looked up to them and thought Shann, their doctor, was great.
But five years had brought a terrible change. There’d been too few adults to look after things. And the hundreds and hundreds of children who had been brought here for safety were growing up wild. Most of them were now in their teens—and some of them were no better than savages.
She heard Mazal ask, "Is it time?" and glanced out at the early twilight and quickly estimated the hour. There were few clocks in High Harbor that were still in working order, but with practice she had learned to guess the time within minutes.
"No," she said. "But I think you ought to go anyway and, well, sort of get composed."
"But, honey, the supper—"
"Oh, fiddle, I’ll take care of it. The important thing is Teacher’s message. You’ve got to pick it up this time."
"You’re right." Frowning, Mazal tossed a cloak over her shoulders and went to the garden door. Then she turned. "Pray for me," she said, then opened the door and slipped outside.
With her hands clasped tightly, Lanna watched from the window while Mazal hurried along the stone wall fronting the garden and entered the ancient tower at the far corner. She could not see the place where Mazal emerged after climbing the curving steps to the tower’s upper story, but she could visualize her aunt standing there under the thatched roof, eyes closed, facing seaward. And somewhere across those hundreds of unknown miles, Mazal’s father, Teacher, would be standing the same way, concentrating on sending his daughter a message.
Mazal wasn’t very good at it, and it was only by going through this same procedure every day, at the same place and hour, that she was able to pick up anything. Yesterday almost nothing had come through. Today—
Lanna closed her eyes and whispered, "Please, God, let her get Teacher’s message. Please." A message just had to come this evening. With the trade ship here, it Just had to.
As she went back to work, she suddenly began thinking of Conan again. Not that he was ever really out of her mind, but this was a nagging, worrisome feeling that had been with her for several days. Something was wrong. Had it not been for all the work to be done, she would have gone to her room and tried—as she had tried a thousand times before—to send her thoughts out to Conan and get his reply. In time, she was certain, she would be successful. But that wasn’t helping now.
With supper baking in the brick oven by the fireplace, she set the table and took fresh candles from the cupboard drawer. At that moment, glancing through the window to estimate the time, she saw two men coming up the rocky path from the harbor. They were Shann and Commissioner Dyce.
At the sight of the commissioner’s blocky figure and his broad black beard that jerked back and forth with every movement of his chin, something froze in Lanna, and she thrust the candles back into the drawer. Candles were precious and hard to make. She would light them only for friends. If the commissioner couldn’t manage his food by firelight, he didn’t have to eat here.
Shann, trudging frail and worn beside him, his patched jacket hanging limply from his thin shoulders, seemed more than ever discouraged. All at once she realized what a terrible burden the poor doctor had been carrying, and how ill equipped he was to carry it. He’s such a good person, she thought, but he wasn’t cut out to be a pioneer. And that’s what we are. And we’re in such trouble....
She thought the men were going to enter the cottage, but after coming through the main gate they swung around through the pines to Shann’s little office, and she lost sight of them. Then she forgot them entirely until she went outside to get wood for the fire.
There wasn’t any wood. Now she remembered that someone had taken the ax—of which there were only a few at High Harbor—and Shann hadn’t been able to locate it before the trade ship came. Hurriedly she started for the pines, sure she could find enough twigs and fallen limbs to keep the fire going. But at the upper corner of the cottage she stopped abruptly. She could not see Shann and the commissioner, but she could hear their voices in close conversation. They were talking about Teacher.
She flattened against the rough stones of the cottage and held her breath. Commissioner Dyce was saying, a little angrily, it seemed, "But she must know where he is! If she’s a communicator—"
"She isn’t a regular communicator," Shann interrupted, his voice patient and tired. "She has no real ability. Her father was able to teach her just enough to keep in touch with him."
"Yes, I understand all that. But the thing is, she communicates. Anyone who does that cannot help learning the location of the other person. So I repeat, your wife knows where her father is."
There was a pause, and now Shann’s voice was irritable. "Of course she knows! Haven’t I told you? Her father’s on an island somewhere—"
"An island! Always an island! Can you describe this island?"
"Do I have to?"
"I think it would be well if you did."
"Now you are threatening me," Shann said slowly. "I thought your purpose here was friendly. A trade mission. That’s what the survey boat promised when it came earlier this year. You people have things we need badly—and we have things you need just as much. So we made an agreement. But instead of being friendly, you’ve become threatening."
"Oh, come now," the commissioner rumbled in his deep voice. "If I wanted to threaten you, I could. We are armed—and you have no defenses here."
"Our numbers are defense enough. And many of the young people are armed—"
"With bows!" the commissioner said scornfully. "But I would rather be friendly as long as possible. The world must be rebuilt, and all men must work together to do it."
"Under whose direction? Yours?"
"Naturally. We’re far, far in advance of you. We’ve salvaged a fleet of ships already—and you’ve salvaged none. We have a complete factory-city in working order, and thousands of citizens busy in production. Can you say the same? And what are you producing here? Anything but discontent? Why, you’ve hardly started cutting the timber we ordered months ago."
The commissioner paused. Lanna, who had been listening incredulously, thought: Oh, don’t believe all he tells you, Shann! He’s full of lies. He’s just trying to bully you.
Shann said quietly, "I wouldn’t think of doubting you, Commissioner—and you shouldn’t underestimate us. As for the timber, I warned the captain of your survey ship that we couldn’t do much cutting till you brought us tools. I hope they are power tools."
"Power tools!" the deep voice exclaimed. "Certainly not! You’ve neither fuel nor electricity here. The only power tool you could use would have to be a solar machine—and there’s only one man living who knows the trick of making them."
"Really? Teacher is the only one?"
"Of course! I thought everyone knew that. What a terrible thing it would be if this ‘Teacher,’ as you call him here, could not be found. Why, it might take the world a thousand years to regain his knowledge!"
"I imagine so," Shann admitted.
"So, my good Doctor, you owe it to yourself, and to every survivor of the Change, to help us locate him."
There was a tired sigh. Then Shann said slowly,
"Look, I’ve told you all I know. Teacher was one of the last to try to fly here, but he started too late. The big machine with him was lost, and we don’t know what happened to it. His little machine was smashed down near one of the new islands. All we’ve been able to learn is that it’s a large, hilly island, and there are two other survivors with him. As for the boat they are trying to build—"
"Yes, what about this boat?"
"We understand it’s nearly done. They’d probably be here now if they could have found materials sooner. It may take your survey ship a year to search out all the islands. If you’re so anxious for Teacher’s help, why not Just wait for him? With any luck, he should be here before the fogs set in."
The commissioner grunted. "You don’t know navigation, Doctor.’
"What’s the difficulty?"
"Difficulty! Oh, my mother, those are new seas out yonder, Doctor. There are no charts for them—and no proper aircraft left that can be used to explore them from above. Just finding you was a miracle. There are shoals and reefs we’re just learning about. North isn’t where It used to be—and there’s an area out there where a compass simply won’t work. Anyone caught there when the fogs come might never find his way home. There are strange currents that could sweep a vessel halfway around the world. Suppose you ran aground, or used up your fuel? Where could you get help today?’
There was a silence, then the commissioner went on Those fogs are due in two months. We’re taking no chances with them. We’re getting out of here well ahead. If you haven’t got us loaded in time, the loss is yours. As for your father-in-law, he’s got to be found. And soon. So you’d better do as I tell you.... "
The rest of the words were lost in the sudden chattering of a squirrel in the branches overhead. It was followed by the equally happy cries of seabirds cruising above the cottage. Lanna retreated hastily. Her friends had discovered her.
At the kitchen door she paused as wings began beating close about her. "Go way, you silly things," she whispered fondly. "Can’t you see I’ve nothing to feed you yet?"
A tern fluttered down and settled wearily on her hand. At the sight of it she gasped. Instantly everything else was forgotten.
"Tikki!" she said breathlessly, trembling. "I can’t believe it you’ve come back! But—but what’s happened? Why are you here?" Then, seeing the tawny band on one leg, she gasped again. "Conan sent you!"
She held the bird to her cheek as she tried to think. Her dark eyes grew wide with fear and uncertainty. Why had Conan sent Tikki home? He wasn’t hurt or ill she was sure of that. Could it be he was leaving his island? But why—?
All at once, in a rush of understanding, she realized there was only one reason Conan would send Tikki to her. It was to let her know that he had been found— and was now a captive.
She whirled and raced along the garden wall to the tower. Teacher must be told of this immediately.