S. Stirling - On the Oceans of Eternity

Clemens felt a sharp pain in his ankle, where Azzu-ena had kicked him; outwardly she was the picture of demure modesty, with her shawl drawn over her head and held across her lower face with one hand.

"Ah," he said, bowing again, "The Bull of Marduk is generous!"

"And in this hospital you will not only cure the sick, but teach," Kashtiliash said, warming to his thoughts. "I have sent to your Island for copies of the books of healing-soon my own printing press will be at work, with men trained at Ur Base. You will take the sons-

"And daughters," Azzu-ena and Kathryn said simultaneously.

"And daughters." Kashtiliash smiled fondly. "Of physicians and scribes and priests-thus their families will object less- as apprentices."

"And commoners, my Lord King," Clemens said, quietly but firmly.

"As you wish. And this is only the beginning! Near your hospital will grow over the years a great school of all learning- the lore of my folk, and the New Learning of yours. Such is called a university , is it not? Yes, it will take much gold, as much as many regiments of riflemen, but it will-

He looked at the queen. "Remember that night on the terrace, beloved of the King's heart?"

"Yes," she said, smiling.

"I promised then that I would not leave my people in the dirt. And I will not!"

The great scarred hand closed unconsciously into a fist, and the dark hawk eyes flashed. Clemens cleared his throat.

"Ah, King of the Universe, I… my wife and I did plan to visit Nantucket before settling."

"Excellent," Kashtiliash said, all business once more. "You may arrange much of what we will need there. I will be visiting myself, and the Seg Kallui ."

He laughed at Azzu-ena's start. "Yes, a conference of the Great Kings is to be called, wise lady, in Nantucket Town. Much thought has gone into the arrangements." A snort. "Not least, to ensure that the Great Kings are still Great Kings when they return-we have all agreed to move against any usurper, so there will be none such."

A boy's eagerness lit the King's face. "And I, I shall see the homeland of wonders myself!"

"Jesus, that's not going to fly again," Vicki Cofflin said.

She completed her limping walk around the staked-down dirigible. Or what was left of it. The hull had a perceptible kink in it, where broken frames and stringers creaked. Bits of the doped fabric that covered it fluttered tattered in the cold desert wind; large patches were bare, and she could see inside to the gasbags.

"Well, no," Alex Stoddard replied.

He didn't look as beaten-up as she-his right arm wasn't in a cast, for starters-but the bruises on his face had only begun to fade.

"None of the engines are functional, to start with," he went on, blinking at the sun and the alkaline dust blowing from the bare earth around them. "And going on from there. Still, she kept us alive, the Emancipator ."

"Which is a miracle," she said, looking at the riven rock that speared the sky not far to the north.

Wherever we are, it's a desert basin with some bloody enormous mountains around it.

"I thought we were all going to die when we headed for the moon after we dropped the emergency ballast," Stoddard said. "We must have hit twenty-five thousand feet, at least, the way the emergency valves spilled hydrogen. I passed out around twenty, I think."

Vicki grunted-it was more comfortable than talking, with a mouth bruised and cut inside on the edges of her own teeth- and looked over at the row of five graves not far away. They already looked timeworn, even though they'd only been there a few days. This eternal wind…

Which is why we stayed aloft so long . With no control, landing was extremely tricky. By the time they'd all become fully conscious again, it hadn't mattered how much further they drifted looking for a good spot.

"Heads up, ma'am! Delegation coming out from the oasis!"

The call came from the lookout in the observation post atop the hull. Vicki gave a quick glance around; nothing could hide the scrapes and broken bones, but everyone was as neat as possible… and more to the point, everyone had a rifle or pistol, and there were two functional Gatlings.

Plus the Shipwreck Kit , she thought-every Islander craft carried that, a set of how-to books and basic tools.

The locals came closer, a crowd of footmen with bronze-headed spears led by a brace of chariots and followed by a crowd of women and children. Vicki narrowed her eyes as she took them in.

Well, however far east we came, we aren't into Oriental country yet.

The man in the lead chariot was six-foot or so, in reddish-brown tunic and trousers and boots, with a falcon-headed bronze ax in one hand, knife and sword at his belt, compound bow and javelins racked in his war-car. His long beak-nosed face was about the same shade as hers, and his shoulder-length hair was a russet brown.

Ok, these look like Caucasoids , she thought-northern Europeans, at that; blonds, redheads, and brunettes all plentiful. Some were wearing what looked like tartan plaids, at that. She took in that, the plumed and bedizened horses drawing the chariots, the weapons…

"These bastards get around, don't they?" Alex said, echoing her thought.

"Get me the Number Three phrasebook from the Shipwreck Kit," she said.

That was the one titled: Early Indo-European Languages - Useful Phrases . She spoke the Sun People dialect of Alba; that ought to be a help.

"Hail," she said, when the chiefs charioteer drew rein. " Ekwos ?" she added, pointing to the horse…

" Osu, su-diwom ," he said, and turned to take a clay goblet from an attendant. " Poixesoine medhuos ?" he went on, holding it out to the strangers.

It was a long way home, and they'd need the locals' help. The surest way to get that was to make them offers they couldn't refuse.

They probably have some local enemies. Damn, I wonder what's happening at home?

The radio had been very thoroughly smashed. Not that news would make any difference here , but it would be nice to know…

"So, a new world," Doreen Arnstein said, laying Miriam down in her crib.

Ian leaned over his daughter, watching the infant-blue eyes blink into sleep. Outside the noise of the festivities was still a dull background roar under a clear autumn sky; the wine beat in his own ears, like his blood, or the sea. Through the window came the pop and multicolored starburst of fireworks. Their housekeeper Denditwara was in a rocking chair by the window, with her own newborn in her lap.

"It's a new world every time we produce one of these," Ian said, tucking the blanket up around his child.

" We ?" Doreen said, raising a brow. "I seem to recall doing most of the work, myself."

"Details," he said loftily, as they turned down the stairs and he dodged her poking finger in his ribs.

They came out onto the little verandah, deep in shadow with only the whale-oil lights of the streetlamps. Up to the north there was a blaze of kerosene light and a sound of song from the old Congregational church, where a midnight service of thanksgiving was under way, Prelate Gomez presiding. Their friends were waiting for them, and David was deep in conversation with the Alston-Kurlelo and Cofflin children; he caught snatches of excited descriptions of Babylon and Hattusas and Mycenae. And a lament over the general uselessness of infant siblings, too…

"Glad I'm through making those speeches," Jared Cofflin grumbled.

"Glad we're through with the battles," Marian said. Swindapa squeezed her hand.

Several other pairs were coming up the road, away from Main Street. King Kashtiliash strode briskly, the embroidered robe of formality swirling around his muscular thighs like a warrior's cloak, the tall flowerpot hat spangled in gold sequins glittering in the lamplight; beside him Kathryn Hollard matched him stride for stride in robes more elaborate and just as gorgeously colored. Her brother followed, Raupasha at his side. Unlike the Babylonian monarch, she was frankly gawking as she peered about, clinging to her husband's arm. Isketerol of Tartessos brought up the rear; he was looking about him with a slight quirk to his lips, remembering, pointing out this or that to his son Sarsental. The boy goggled as openly as Raupasha much of the time, then remembered his dignity.