Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“We expect to,” September replied.

“And now, tell me once more of your miraculous sky-boat and its unfathomable mechanisms. I did not understand the first time and probably will not this time either, but there is merit in trying.”

Dinner ended with a pleasant little liqueur. Conversation continued for another hour or so. Then Colette yawned widely, and Budjir confessed that he had to rise early on the morrow to help oversee the setting of the new bowsprit. So the Prior declared the gathering at an end.

The group of visiting humans and tran were guided back to their communal sleeping room. Ethan walked next to September.

“What do you think of our hosts?” said the big man.

“Hmmm? Oh, I guess they’re okay. A little dry and self-centered maybe, but okay. For a second there, when Hunnar mentioned our destination and what’s-his-name dropped his mug…”

“Podren.”

“Yes, Podren. I thought there was something very unfriendly in his expression. He covered it fast, though, and I’m sure no expert at interpreting alien facial expressions. On the other hand, it didn’t seem to affect the Prior at all.”

“He was probably right… our going to a place regarded as a home for devils and spirits and what-not, young feller. Leaking gases could explain the hallucinations and weird reactions among passing natives.”

“I suppose so. In any case, we’ll have the chance to find out for ourselves before long.”

They reached the room. The central firepit was crackling and spitting merrily, throwing welcome heat to every corner of the room. It had apparently been burning during the meal, as a respectable pile of coals had accumulated in the bottom of the pit. These added to the pleasant heat.

Ethan made his goodnights to everyone else. There were no dividers between the beds. It wasn’t a problem, however, since none of the humans had any intention of exposing their bare skin to the still-frigid air.

He climbed into bed. Hunnar and September split up and set about extinguishing the lamps that burned on the walls. Ethan would have helped, but they hung at tran height and that was a bit too high for him.

There were fewer furs and blankets on the bed than he’d grown used to. Their hosts, of course, had no way of knowing that the hairless strangers were far more affected by the cold than Hunnar and the squires and Elfa. Then, too, this was not the castle of Wannome, nor were they the privileged passengers on a great raft.

Hunnar and the squires took the beds placed farthest from the firepit. Elfa insisted on doing likewise, as did old Eer-Meesach. That was fine with Ethan. He had no desire to play the Stoic Terran. A place near the dying blaze was worth any moral oversight.

He drifted almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It seemed minutes later when he awoke, but it wasn’t. He sat up in near total darkness to an uncomfortably familiar scream. The fire was gone, but there was enough light from the star-filled windows and the failing coals to make out shapes.

The room was filled with struggling, swearing, darting forms. The first scream wasn’t repeated, but there were plenty of yells and bellows of outrage. He could recognize Hunnar’s and September’s among them.

The half of the room nearest the doorway was full of white-robed, bearded silhouettes. A pair of muscular paws grabbed at him as he sat in the bed and pulled him bodily out of it. He fought in the tight grasp and got to his knees.

Leaning backward, he pulled hard. His proportionately greater body weight obviously startled his attacker. The clutching paws went limp in surprise as their owner was suddenly tugged off balance.

Something struck him on the right shoulder and he turned and swung blindly. He felt a bearded face under his knuckles.

Still frantically trying to blink the sleep from his eyes, he was knocked roughly sideways into a huge figure. He pulled at it.

“It’s me, young feller-me-lad, it’s me!” September pressed a still-warm log into Ethan’s hands and turned to swing at a dim shape.

They were shoved backwards by the sheer press of bodies pouring into the room. The Brothers also fought with clubs, but they seemed to be taking care not to kill anyone. However, that did not necessarily hint of compassion to come.

It did make things a bit more difficult for them, since no such compunction existed on the part of those they were fighting. But the tightly-packed crowd made it hard just to swing a club.

“This way!” came a cry from the back of the room. Ethan whirled, spotted Budjir leaning from the sill of one of the high east-side windows. He parried another blow, swung downward and felt the wood meet bone with a satisfying crunch.

Then he turned and ran. Hunnar was there to give him a boost up. The powerful arms of the big squire went under his. Another moment and he was through the window, standing underneath the impartial stars on a chill, pebble-topped roof.

Fortunately there was little wind. Dark, monolithic forms loomed to the west, the spires and steeples of the highest monastery. Elfa and Suaxus were already on the roof.

Another second and he was helping Eer-Meesach through. Ethan braced himself against the wall and the old wizard came up easily. His breathing was ragged. Aged eyes blinked in the darkness.

The sounds of fighting below seemed far away, surreal. Hunnar himself fairly shot through the opening. September followed close behind. One of the Brothers was wrapped around the big man’s left leg. It took several kicks from its powerful twin to dislodge the persistent scholar. Ethan was still in too much of a daze to ask questions. He glanced around and saw that their company was far from complete.

“Hey, where… where are the others? Milliken and…”

“Our pacific hosts got ’em,” September growled back. “I don’t think for the purposes of advancing the frontiers of beneficent research, either. They nearly got us all. Would have, if Hunnar hadn’t gotten up to put some new wood on the damned fire. So he was awake when the first of them came sneaking in.”

“I don’t understand it,” mused the knight, as stunned as Ethan. “There is no reason for this. They seemed so really decent and—”

“—schizoid,” finished September. “We’ll chat about their unfortunate aberrations later.” He knelt and stuck his head a little ways into the room.

“They’ve gone. I expect they’ll be out on the rooftops after us in a minute. Deity knows they’re more familiar with them than us. Now, there’s only one way down from this rockpile. And while our knowledgeable friends don’t appear to be militarily inclined… witness their performance in that room… sooner or later some bright boy among them’s going to realize that by blocking off the stairway they’ll have us trapped up here.”

The next minutes were a slow-motion dream-scheme of running, hurtling parapets, darting across rooftops, and dropping one level at a time. Hunnar and September assumed the lead. They all had to move fast and carefully. One wrong step in an unfamiliar place and they might step off the side of the mountain.

Ages later the two lead men returned to the group with a sign to keep silent.

“We’re just above the gateway,” September whispered. There’s a single Brother on guard there and he doesn’t look awkwardly tense about things.” Ethan looked past the big man, saw no sign of Sir Hunnar.

A minute later there was a short, sharp whistle from below. They ran to the edge of the building. September didn’t hesitate. He turned, grabbed the coping, and let go. Without thinking, or he might have hesitated, Ethan copied him.

The drop wasn’t bad, and the big man and Hunnar were there to catch him. Suaxus came next, and immediately took up a position next to the closed door. Lanterns burned on either side of the entrance.