Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Noticed something different here lately, young feller-me-lad?” September joined Ethan in staring over the bow sprit.

“That’s an open question.” Ethan idly checked the thermometer built into the wrist of his survival suit. It was a brisk ten below that morning. Not bad considering that just before sunrise the reading had fallen to minus sixty.

“It’s our good friend Williams.”

“What about him?” Ethan stared up at September curiously from behind his survival suit’s visor.

The giant nodded toward the four scientists clustered together amidships. Ethan recognized Williams immediately by the teacher’s battered survival suit, so different in appearance from the shiny unmarred attire of his companions.

“That’s our friend Hwang he’s hanging around with.”

“So? They’re observing together. I’m not surprised. After over a year of having to try to make conversation with a couple of simpletons like you and me, I’d expect him to spend as much time as possible with people of a similar mental bent.”

“Been doing nothing but observing together. Ever since we left Arsudun.”

“You wouldn’t be insinuating that there might be something more than a professional relationship developing between them, now would you?”

“Oh, no, not me, not me, lad.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Ethan watched as Williams put his faceplate close to Hwang’s. Natural enough, given the limited range of the suits’ speaking membranes. “I’m not sure our friend Hwang is capable of anything more than that.”

“Don’t let her attitude fool you, feller-me-lad. Even steel can smolder, given the right conditions.”

“Sorry. I just can’t think of our Milliken as a right condition.”

“Can’t you now? Adjust your perspective, feller-me-lad. Among that lot Milliken’s stature is considerable, and I ain’t referring to his size. He’s seen stuff these stay-at-homes can only dream about—and lives to tell about it. And he’s a bona fide hero to the Tran. Don’t think our calculating friends miss things like that. Someone like himself comes marching into Brass Monkey on a ship of his own design, crewed by Tran he’s helped to make allies of, and the status of a fancy degree goes right down the chute. Can’t you see how someone like Hwang could be taken with a figure like that?” There was definite merriment in September’s voice.

“Maybe so, but all that time we spent out on the ice, I kind of got the feeling that maybe Milliken was… you know.”

“I thought similarly, feller-me-lad, which makes recent developments all the more intriguing. You think about it, though, and everything matches up pretty well. Our friend Cheela’s a bit on the domineering side, for all that she’s a petite little package, and…”

“Don’t you have something of more consequence to speculate on?” Ethan said disgustedly.

“I sure don’t,” September replied cheerfully. He waved at the ice sheet speeding past, the broad monotonous plain of pika-pina. “Not out here I don’t. I was just wondering what the Tran would make of such goings-on. Species or no, this is a bunch of sailors we’re keeping company with. Sailors are sailors no matter what shape their pupils or feet.”

“Just keep it to yourself, Skua. What you find amusing they might consider blasphemous or bad luck or something. We don’t know their attitude toward shipboard romances.”

“Tran wouldn’t be like that, but you’re right about one thing, young feller-me-lad. I should keep my big mouth shut.” He nodded toward the quartet of scholars. “It ain’t going to be easy to keep it a secret the way those two are carrying on. Why, do you realize that yesterday they…?”

The wind roared over the bow, drowning out the rest of his words as he strolled away.

Now that the idea had been planted Ethan found his gaze drawn back to Williams and Hwang like filings to a magnet. Damn September anyway for distracting him with inconsequentials. It was none of his business or anyone else’s what the two were about. If it were true, though, he was happy for Milliken.

He discovered he was grinning to himself.

The following afternoon they encountered not a herd of the achivar but a veritable spiny army, sweeping toward them from the south. Brown and blue spines stretched from horizon to horizon. Females and offspring swerved neatly around the Slanderscree ’s skates while an occasional larger male would try to jab the metal supports with his forespines. The icerigger sailed on through an ocean of flag-waving spikes.

“Must be a hundred thousand of them!” yelled the ecstatic Moware as he tried helplessly to decide which way to aim his recorder.

Hunnar and Ethan watched the astonishing spectacle side by side. “Never have I seen or heard of a migration so large. It is not the proper time of year.”

“Maybe their habits are different in this part of the world,” Ethan suggested.

Hunnar executed a gesture of concession. “Perhaps. You would think they would stop in such a rich region to graze, yet they push steadily northward. One would almost think they were running away from something.”

“POYOLAVOMAAR ON THE HORIZON!”

All eyes turned to the lookout’s bin atop the mainmast. Then there was a concerted rush forward as crew and passengers alike strained for their first sight of the powerful city-state which had allied itself with Sofold following the battle outside Moulokin. The scientists were anxious to set eyes on the seven islands they had been told about, while Ethan, September, Williams, and the Tran wondered what kind of government had been established in their absence. Would they still be welcomed as friends, let alone as allies?

An hour later they were in among the outer islets, steep-sided volcanic buttes whose tops projected up through the frozen ocean. Neatly terraced hillsides were dotted with farmhouses of dressed stone. Smoke rose from tall chimneys. The first of the seven large islands that were home to the majority of Poyolavomaar’s population lay dead ahead.

Ethan scanned the slopes for signs of war or discord and allowed himself a silent sigh of relief at finding none. Their deposition of the homicidal former Landgrave had not sparked a civil war in their absence. “Looks peaceful enough.”

September nodded. “Someone’s taken control here, and without a heavy hand. I see new decorative wood carving on some of the buildings and the docks. Oppressed people don’t decorate. Wonder who the new Landgrave is. Maybe that young officer T’hosjer T’hos who finished off Ra-kossa.”

“Could be, but I think the nobles would choose someone with a closer connection to the throne if they could find a distant relative who wasn’t as crazy as Rakossa. We’ll find out soon enough.”

Small ice craft were turning from their courses to parallel and escort the Slanderscree. There was no mistaking the icerigger for any other ship on Tran-ky-ky. Those Poyolavomaarians who had been present when it had passed through on its way to fabled Moulokin recognized it immediately. Citizens of the city-state filled the rigging and lined the rails of their much smaller vessels to offer whistles and shouts of greeting.

One sleek, high-sailed ice boat pulled alongside long enough for a member of its crew to perform a feat of acrobatic derring-do which had even the hardened sailors of Sofold cheering. Using his strong claws to maintain his grip on the wood, he crawled out on the starboard rigger of his ship until he was squatting directly above the single skate at the end. Then he lifted one paw long enough to wave to his helmsman. As that individual delicately manipulated sails and wind, the ice boat’s starboard rigger rose slowly off the ice until it was careening along at sixty kilometers an hour on its fore and aft skates only. A hair more to port, and the boat would roll, smashing itself and its crew against the ice. Back to starboard too suddenly, and the impact would certainly jar the precariously balanced rider loose, to be battered against the ice or thrown beneath the massive skates of the Slanderscree.