Larry Niven - The Barsoom Project

The plane crash. How long ago had that been? Forty-eight hours? It seemed worlds away, and so much had changed since then.

Eviane still looked somewhat pale, and perhaps a bit forlorn. He imagined that was appropriate: he thought that if he were officially dead, he would be somewhat forlorn as well. But with strong, busy fingers she helped, in all likelihood as cheerful as any dead person could be.

The igloo grew until it was about twelve feet across and five feet high. The Actor attached a hissing gas cylinder to the tent. Struts swelled with pressure. The tent had become a gelatin mold.

They crawled in, single file.

The temperature outside had begun to drop. In the last few minutes of their task, Max’s fingers had grown numb. He was delighted to get inside, where Bowles was already setting up a small conical heater. Temperatures rapidly grew comfortable, if not toasty.

Snow Goose removed the tin can of cigarettes from her pack and sat cross-legged on the ground, waiting for the others to arrive. She was centered and calm, every bit the picture of a woman who strode between two worlds, the Inuit and the white.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously. Max could almost hear the voices of the Cabal: thwarted, angry, vengeful…

But in the igloo, there was peace.

Eviane gazed at Snow Goose as if trying to remember something. Studying. Absorbing. Then she seemed to give up.

The Adventurers ringed them ‘round. Bowles. Stith-Wood.

Hippogryph. Yarnall. The Sands brothers. Dula. Titus. Frankish

Oliver. Welsh. Eviane. Hebert. These were the warriors of the West, and they had to be enough.

Snow Goose spoke. “You know we’ve won, like, major gold.”

There was a round of applause, and a great hearty lot of back-slapping. Snow Goose let it die back down. She said, “We should get a chance to rest pretty soon now.”

“I was wondering if anyone was going to remember that part!” Trianna said. “I’m pooped.”

There was a general chorus of agreements about that too.

“We need another ceremony first. We must reach my father. The elders who helped us with our last ceremony cannot aid us now, but I have something that they didn’t-one of the Dead, whose love for this world brought her back to be with us. She walks between worlds, and in traveling from death to life has gained great power.

“Eviane, you will sit at the center of our circle. You will help us to open a window between worlds.”

With evident reluctance, Eviane moved forward and sat next to Snow Goose. Cigarettes were passed around. Max shifted, and then shifted again, trying to get comfortable on the thin padding under his aching buttocks. Nothing helped. Finally he folded his jacket and sat on it.

Again, the cigarette was unfiltered, and a little shorter than those of which he had seen pictures. He didn’t personally know anyone with a nicotine prescription, but one could still find a bootlegger here or there smuggling Oaxacan tobacco. Rumor had it that a few outlaw “Smokies” still grew the precious leaf up in Oregon, in patches disguised as marijuana fields.

They lit, and exhaled. Once again the smoke streamed up toward the roof, but this time it congealed above Eviane’s head as well as Snow Goose’s. A glowing image formed.

Martin the Arctic Fox was kneeling before a foam-plastic crate. They could hear him chanting, and though they could not understand, it was clear what he was doing. For several seconds they watched him negotiating with the Inua of a score of cans of corned beef. Then his head jerked up and his leathery face crinkled in delight.

“Snow Goose! You still live?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Have you made any progress? How many of the strangers still survive?”

“We’ve only lost one,” Snow Goose said, “and Eviane is still with us as my tornrait. Daddy, we have warred with the sins on Sedna’s scalp and defeated them, but they must still be combed away.”

“You didn’t stay to-?”

“No, Daddy, we’re warriors, not barbers! Our people may need help to attack the Cabal. Will you take care of Sedna? It’s really your job.”

“Yes, I must dress her hair while others fight,” Martin said glumly. “Carry on, daughter. Well done.” He faded.

Snow Goose rubbed her palms together briskly. “Well. That’s that.”

The tension in the air slackened. Johnny Welsh coughed politely. “I don’t want to interrupt the reunion, but my stomach is about to sue me for nonsupport. Do you think we could get some food?”

There was a sharp popping sound, like a vacuum tube imploding. Suddenly, another vision misted the air.

It wasn’t of malevolent Cabal members, though. It was a beautiful woman whose long, straight black hair fanned out in an ethereal halo.

Sedna. She smiled on them through full lips. “My children,” she said, and each word had, not the bubbling sound he would have expected, but a lush, hushed woman’s voice.

“You have freed me from my bondage. You have justified my faith in you. Though you were of another culture, you are joined in a dance with us. Though you unknowingly sinned, you have repented-what is in your hearts will determine your fates.

“The Cabal awaits you. You have freed me, but they have gained great power, and still hold the Raven in thrall. They will be all the more dangerous now that they know you are strong enough to thwart them. You must be careful.

“Somewhere out over the ice is the next challenge, your penultimate test.”

Sedna’s face wavered, and in its place there appeared a strange vista. It seemed to be a mountainous island. No, not a mountain. What Max had seen as a natural formation was an endless network of slabs of ice set against one another at crazed, impossible angles.

Kevin shook his head in disbelief; but Max was more disturbed by Eviane’s gasp of recognition. Her eyes were fixed, staring. He took her hand: it was rigid.

“Here is your challenge,” Sedna said. “There will be dangers both physical and psychic. My own energy is taken with healing. I can give you one gift. I can return to life one who has suffered in your service, one who died, and even through death served you.

“Rise, Eviane.”

A nimbus of pale light played around Eviane. Her mouth opened in a surprised “0.” The other Adventurers stared. Eviane began to shake. Then the light faded, and Eviane stared at her hands in amazement.

Max prodded her with a sturdy forefinger. “Yep. All meat. No filling.”

Sedna’s full lips smiled warmly. “Rise, living woman. Restored to your compatriots, restored to life, still you have seen beyond the veil of death. The power of foresight is yours, now and forever. Rise, Eviane, restored to hope, to love. Rise.”

“Gotcha!”

Max ducked, too late. The snowball hit him in the side of the head, exploding in a burst of fluff.

“Point!” one of the two judges called. The judges were unusual. They looked like snowmen: more the Frosty than the Abominable variety. Complete with carrot noses and black top hats, the two odd creatures had appeared at the beginning of the evening break, and led the Gamers on a whistling march to a mountain concealing a network of ice caves. Inside the cave was a suspiciously warm spring, and a banquet of fresh fruit, vegetables, hot breads, and lean proteins.

After the meal most of the Adventurers had been coaxed back into the bracing cold for a little game.

With the glowing sky above them, the vast expanse of arctic plain surrounding them, and the specter of tomorrow’s destruction before them, the Gamers had adopted very much of a “Tomorrow we die” air, and engaged in the greatest snow war of all time.