Return to the Whorl

"I swore when I came here that I would never sail again in winter if I could help it," I told her, "but I maintain that I have kept my oath. This is spring sailing, really."



She nodded, her cheeks red, her nose running, and her big, round face radiant. "There's floatflowers in this wind."



A small hand tugged at my coatsleeve. "Is he coming back?"



"Is who coming back?"



"Weasel says you told him to talk to somebody else."



"Oh. Oreb. Yes, I did. I sent him to talk to my wife." I was watching the draw of the mainsail, and not paying a great deal of attention to the small solemn face before me.



"Is he coming back?"



"I hope so. He always has, though he was gone for nearly a year once."



Capsicum patted the gunwale beside her and shooed the boys away. "You're in danger. Do you know that?"



I sat. "Not from those children. At sea, one is always in some danger; but at the moment, that's not at all severe. From Gyrfalcon, is that what you mean?"



She nodded.



"Then I know nothing of the kind. I know you thought I might be when we talked about his becoming calde-your tone and expression made that plain. But Gyrfalcon was a member of the committee that sent me after Silk. He can hardly object to my having tried to carry out his instructions, and if he punishes me for failing..." I shrugged.



"You said they thought that if one of them got to be calde the people wouldn't agree."



It was not precisely what I had said, but I nodded.



"But they'd be happy with you. I think you're right." She looked pensive.



"I said nothing of the kind. I said that it was thought they might accept Calde Silk."



She remained silent after that, I believe until I had put the yawl about and started back to New Viron. Then she began to talk about the possibility that Gyrfalcon might be overthrown. "He'll kill you, Patera, if you give him time."



"New Viron's sickness is not Gyrfalcon," I told her. "It was a cruel and lawless place without him, and it seems to me that it's better with him, if anything. A bad horse needs a big whip, as the saying goes. We overthrew the judges of Dorp. Possibly you've heard."



She was silent. The two boys drew nearer to listen.



"It was easy-so easy that a young friend and I ordered the judge presiding over my trial to convict me, because the uprising I planned might not have taken place if he had not. He wanted to dismiss the charges against me, you see, because he was afraid. Keep your heading, please. You're letting us drift downwind."



I took the tiller myself and corrected our course.



"I got to know the people of Dorp," I told her. "They're good people-brave, hardworking, and much cleaner than we. Shrewd traders, but kind and basically honest. The judges had taken advantage of their good qualities, and so the judges had to go; if I had not removed them, the people themselves would have within a few years. Gyrfalcon isn't taking advantage of the good qualities of the people, from what I've seen. He's taking advantage of their bad ones. If they are too quarrelsome to unite against him, and so violent that they'll willingly pay his taxes to be protected from one another, they have no reason to complain."



When she still appeared unconvinced, I told her, "Dorp was like Viron-it needed a better government. New Viron needs better people."



The harbor was in sight, and I instructed Weasel and his friend in lowering the mainsail, then had them stand by its halyards. A black speck in the distance caught my eye, and I waved to it before resuming my seat on the gunwale. "In its present state," I told Capsicum firmly, "New Viron couldn't be governed by a good person-by General Mint, for example."



"Or Silk."



"Or by Silk. You're quite correct. Either would have to grow worse, or give the tiller to someone else."

* * *



Oreb reached our boat (I should have mentioned this when I wrote yesterday evening) shortly after we dropped the mainsail, and was soon announcing, "Bird back!" and "Good Silk!" and pulling my hair as usual. All his nonsense.



Chapter 14. LUNCHEON AT THE CALDE'S PALACE



Do all of you wish to see the calde?" Bison's clerk inquired doubtfully.



Pig said, "Aye," and rose; Hound nodded, cleared his throat, and said, "Y-yes." Oreb, who had taken a dislike to the clerk, spat, "Bad man!"



"I'll have to see about it," the clerk informed them, and disappeared for the second time behind the heavy door of carved oak.



Perhaps to conceal his nervousness, Hound said, "I suppose this has changed a lot since the last time you were here, Horn?"



He shook his head. "It seems very much the same. This is a new carpet, but it seems very like the one that was here when I carried a message to Calde Silk. That is certainly the door I remember, and I'd guess that these chairs were here then."



The clerk returned, nodded, and motioned to him; and he told Pig, "We're to go in now. Watch out for the lintel."



"Nae muckle a wait, bucky." Pig took his arm.



"No. I would call it very gracious."



The paneled room beyond held more chairs and two desks, both littered with papers; a second door larger than the first yielded smoothly but slowly to the clerk's tug at its massive handle of molded brass. A tall, narrow window overlooking the city showed through the widening crevice; beside it the edge of a functioning glass, blank but shimmering with dove-and-silver promise. A burly, smiling man appeared to assist the clerk with the heavy door. His beard was streaked with gray, and his dark hair had receded from his temples. Seeing him, Hound swallowed audibly.



The bearded man smiled. "I'm Calde Bison. Sorry I kept you waiting, but I had a few little arrangements to make." He offered his hand.



Hound shook it. "These are my friends Horn and Pig, Calde. It's Horn who really has to see you."



Bison nodded; his smile was guarded now.



"He's come all the way from Blue. That's what he says. I mean, he has I'm sure. And he's been to Green. Pig and I... Well, I thought I'd better come too."



He looked at his companions desperately; the smaller said, "I've been sent here by New Viron, the town our colonists have founded. I'd like to tell you about it."



Bison shook his hand and invited them to sit down. The chairs were large and comfortable, elaborately carved, with red leather seats and tapestried backs. He edged his nearer Bison, discovering that it was so heavy he had difficulty moving it.



"I'm here as the representative of the Ayuntamiento of New Viron," he began, "and of our town as a whole; I should explain that though it has a de facto Ayuntamiento, it has no calde."



"Silk talk!" Oreb proclaimed.



He smiled. "Yes, that's what we want, but I really ought to explain the situation there to the calde before we get to that. If I don't make that clear, he won't understand why we need his cooperation as badly as we do."



"Explain away." Bison's eyes were guarded still.



"I've been gone for some time now. I must tell you that. My information may not be current; and in fact, if a lander has arrived lately from that part of Blue-"



Bison shook his head.



"Very well then. Originally we saw no need of a government of any kind. We left you and General Mint behind to fight the Trivigauntis when we went down into the tunnels. You may have regarded that as a desertion, though I hope you did not."



Bison shrugged. "I doubt that your group included a dozen fighting men. I thought you were, well, signally courageous."



"My father remained behind to fight. I should mention that-I must. I also ought to mention that we fought Trivigauntis ourselves down in the tunnels. You spoke of fighting men. We had fighting women down there, a lot of them. And fighting boys and even a few fighting girls. Almost everyone who could hold a slug gun fought. If they hadn't, we would never have made it to the landers."



"I can imagine."



"We were three days in the tunnels, or about that. Then three weeks on the lander, very crowded, with sleepers mixed with us. They were confused for the most part; some very badly confused indeed, nearly insane. There was almost enough water-that was an enormous blessing-but little food. I've heard since of landers on which the situation was worse, but ours was bad enough. We didn't have an easy time of it."



"Yer stuck h'it, bucky. 'Tis ther thing."



"We all stuck it, Pig." He tried to put all that he felt into his voice, and could only hope he was succeeding. "There were some leaders among us, but if the rest hadn't supported them, it wouldn't have mattered; and more than half the time the people led them. So when we reached Blue, it was natural for us to govern ourselves. If there was something to be decided we met-all or most of us-and everyone who wanted to spoke before we voted on it. There were some of us, such as Marrow, who were heard with more attention than others; and if all of them spoke on the same side, the vote was largely a formality."



Bison said, "Nevertheless, you yourselves decided it, and not your leaders."



"Exactly. That was how we divided the land, for example. We agreed upon the farmsteads, less land for those with rich soil or a spring; and when all the parcels had been staked out, we drew lots. In time, the town grew. There were many other landers from here, particularly in the first few years."



Bison nodded.



"And landers from other cities-often places we'd never heard of-came down near us, and their people joined us." (It seemed best not mention that some had been forced to, and were bought and sold like cattle.) "Then too, there had been many children on the lander. I was one myself, if you like-I was only fifteen. Many more were born in the first few years."



"Your system became unworkable."



"Yes. There were too many people, and some farms were too far away. Some people abandoned theirs and became fishermen or traders or loggers, and often they were gone and missed the Assembly. Then too, in the beginning everyone had wanted to live near town. As it became crowded, and robberies, rapes, and riots increased, many who had once spoken wisely in the Assembly no longer wanted to live in town or even near it."



"Bad hole!" Oreb explained.



"We needed a calde, and everyone saw it. I cannot say how many wealthy and powerful men wanted the office. Eight or ten, perhaps. Possibly even more."



Bison nodded, looking from Hound to Pig. "You didn't hold an election?"



"It would've meant anarchy, a worse anarchy than we endured already-open warfare among those eight or ten factions. In the end, someone would have been calde over..."



"Ruins," Bison completed the thought for him. "As I am, and as my wife was before me, and Patera Silk-if I may say it-was before her."



He shook his head. "I've seen the destruction, but I've also seen that most of Viron survived its war with Trivigaunte. I doubt that a single house in New Viron would survive the war against ourselves that threatens it."



He paused to draw breath. "I said I'd have to describe conditions in New Viron, and now I have. There is no unity and no sanity, or at least very little; but there is enough for five of our most powerful citizens to ask that you send Silk to us. The people will welcome him, and all five have sworn to support him."



Hound coughed apologetically. "He... From what you say. The others will still be stronger than Calde Silk, won't they?"



"No. In the first place, they could never oppose him as a block, and each would fear the others' treachery at least as much as the calde. In the second, thousands who are committed to no one at present would flock to him. His supporters will be united, and far more numerous than theirs."



He turned back to Bison. "That is to say, they will be if you'll let us have him. That's why I'm here. I'm hoping you'll tell me where he is, and help me persuade him to go."



"You'll want a lander, too. Or do you have one?"



Oreb added his own inquiry. "Thing fly?"



"That's right, the thing that flies between whorls. No, I haven't got one, and we'll have to have one. Surely-"



Bison raised a hand. "Surely I have a dozen I'm not using at the moment. Is that what you were going to say? Well, I don't. When Silk himself was calde, he sent off everyone who could be persuaded to go. It used to be that when a man was convicted, he was thrown into the pits." Bison laughed. "I used to think it was going to happen to me eventually. But when Silk took over they were given their choice, the landers or execution. I can't remember any choosing execution."



"If"



Bison's hand went up again. "Just a moment. You've asked for this, and I'm not through.



"The convicts were only a small part of what we sent. Most were manual laborers of one sort or another. Laborers and their families. Carpenters and masons, and small farmers and farm laborers. Something was said a while ago about me being calde over ruins. That's an exaggeration, but there's truth in it, and the truth is there because Silk sent out every lander he could patch up enough to fly. Not many came back, and when they they did he filled them up and sent them off again."



Bison leaned back, red-faced and scowling, then chuckled. "Well, I've got that off my chest, and I've been wanting to for a long time."



Hound ventured, "If there's no lander, Silk and Horn can't go to Blue, can they?"



Bison consulted a slim gold watch. "If they go, they'll have to get one someplace else, that's all. I may be able to help with that. Or they can wait until I have one, though I don't know when that may be."



"You'll tell me where Silk is, and help me persuade him?"



Bison stood. "Maybe, and maybe not. I haven't decided. It's lunchtime, gentlemen, and you're invited to lunch at my palace. Will you do me the honor of dining with my wife and me? We can talk about all this some more while we eat."



Bison and Pig sat on the wide rear seat of Bison's floater, the others on jump seats facing them. "I go home for lunch just about every day," Bison told them as the floater glided forward. "Generally I tell people it's because I like my cook's food."