“Are they all like that, marked all over?” Etenyi said softly to Pallatu, “or are these marked because they are important people?”
“A little of both,” Pallatu said, faintly amused. “I Ve seen Maoris before and it has been explained to me that the tattoos are the history of the man and his clan together.” He placed his open palm against his chest, over the clan embroidery on his linen shirt. “I am relieved that the Whale Elder never decided that we needed such records made on our skins.”
The leader of the Morioris carried on at some length, and though Etenyi did not catch all the words, she understood enough of them to be able to say, “He indicates we are welcome. He wants you to anchor in the bay; he is afraid the old lava flows will damage the ships. He is worried about pirates, not about two foreign ships unless we serve as guides for pirates. He will place armed guards on boats in the harbor, and they will protect your ships.”
“Not what I had in mind, but thank him,” said Pallatu. “Tell him that my men will stand guard on the ships, too. And I will order the men to make sure that the guns are in working order.”
“Do you want me to say—” Etenyi began, only to be cut off.
“You’re not stupid, girl. Don’t provoke me by pre-* tense, will you?” Pallatu lifted the cup of fruit wine he had been given, nodding to the headman of the Morioris. “Tell him that the High Gods will look on his hospitality with favor. And then find out if we can purchase fuel from him.”
“As you wish,” said Etenyi.
Of the last few messengers to reach Machu Picchu before the False Inca closed the borders, the one from the Mantis clan was the strangest, and not because he was doing something so un-Mantis-like as spying for the True Inca. He presented himself in the private council chambers of the Inca’s Palace, his clothes in disarray, his clan bracelet gone.
“You have had a difficult trek, Wothimdyu,” Sathale said, when the Mantis messenger had got halfway through the ritualistic phrases of greeting the True Inca.
“A little,” said Wothimdyu, startled at the break in the neat progression of manners and function.
“Then let’s not waste time. What do you want to tell me?”
Wothimdyu needed a little time to organize his thoughts. He said finally, “I wanted to reach the pass before the False Inca ordered the borders closed. There were rumors of such closure for almost a month. The people in the lands of the False Inca have heard about the ants on the northern rivers, and they have seen that the foreigners are leaving.”
“Which means that we will start to find refugees from the lands of the False Inca before much longer,” said Sathale with philosophical resolve. “So: he cannot continue without the soldiers from the False Inca of the Green Banner, or from another foreign leader.” Inwardly he was aware of burgeoning hope, as he had been for almost a month. Half a year ago he was all but certain he would fall to the army of his distant cousin; now he was beginning to wonder if the reverse might be possible. Had he been a fool to contact Mexico? He couldn’t have anticipated this development, he told himself sternly.
“Yes,’' said the Mantis messenger. “The guess is that he will have to make an arrangement with the lands to the north if he loses his assistance from the False Inca of the Green Banner. ’ ’
“Would he be that reckless? His protector might well gain control over him, and then what would happen to the lands of the False Inca?” Sathale asked, not expecting an answer. “Would Helaoku be rash enough to form an alliance with Mexico? ’ ’ Was Llotl or someone like him holding secret meetings with his second cousin?
“It could mean that your lands, True Inca, would be caught in pincers, if Helaoku has aid from the north,” said the Mantis messenger with fervor. “You must strengthen your borders, as I have heard you are doing already. There must be more, as well.”
“Soldiers have trouble in these mountains. The roads are few, and with Spiders aloft, they cannot approach any fort without detection. I now have twenty Spiders in the air from an hour before dawn until an hour after sunset. No army can move in these mountains in the dark, not even if they know the way.” He gave a quirky smile. “My Ravens have tried it.”
“But if they were to come from two directions, True Inca: the north and the east—” The Mantis made a sign to ward off evil thoughts.
Sathale did not respond at once. “Have you seen the jaws of one of the great lizards? They are frightening when they gape. But keep your courage and thrust a stick into the lizard’s mouth to hold it open and the lizard will not be able to bite. The Spine of the World is far harder to break than the stick in the lizard’s mouth. As long as we have messengers on the ground and Spiders aloft in tethered and untethered kites, there is no doubt that we will prevail.”
“How can you mean that? There are many more men in the lands of the False Inca, and if you add to that the men of the lands to the north, it’s as bad or worse than foreign soldiers. What can we do with such risks?” asked the messenger. His distress showed in spite of his courtly reserve. “What if the False Inca of the Green Banner sends his soldiers again, as he has sworn to do? What if Mexico accepts Helaoku as an ally? ’ ’
“We do not know with certainty that my second cousin has made such overtures.” Feeling rigid, Sathale made himself continue. “We can establish treaties with the Maoris. Who knows, the Japanese may be willing to trade with us, now that Yukio Shigemaro and Hisoka Hyogo have taken my invitation to their Mikado to enter into proper arrangements.” He saw shock in the Mantis’s face. “You are upset because I contemplate alliances with foreigners?”
The Mantis took refuge in a safe answer. “It . . .it is contrary to our teaching. It has never been done before . ’ ’
“Yes. But the False Inca has never sought foreign soldiers to come against us, and the lands to the north have never been stronger than they are now. Little though we may like it, we cannot hide in the fastness of the Spine of the World and trust that the High Gods will keep us in peace.” The Inca put his palms flat on the table. “Perhaps before the foreigners, before the steam engines and these new engines that run on lightning, when Spiders rode only tethered kites and the Whale clan did not venture beyond the Spider sight of land—perhaps before these and the telegraph, we could count ourselves safe, but not now. We are being drawn into the business of the world. One way or another, we will have to deal with foreigners, if not this way, then through war. Or,” he added with distaste, “revolution . ’ ’
“The Elders cannot permit such arrangements. No one can want foreigners on the mountains,” said the Mantis messenger.
“I have done nothing against the Elders,” said Sathale quietly, wishing it were true. “We hear word of all the world now, and we hear the how the wind is blowing, the Elders and I.”
The Mantis made a gesture of protest. “And what next? Will you want to use foreign troops, as your cousin has tried to do, and with their assistance, conquer the lands of the False Inca?”
The guess was a little too close to Sathale’s ambitions for him to concur. “No,” he liect, then gave a brief smile. “But my grandson might.”
On the morning of the tenth day since landfall, Pallatu declared he was pleased with the repairs on his ships and was ready to resume his journey to the Maoris. He made an elaborate speech, stretching Etenyi’s rapidly expanding vocabulary of the Maori tongue to the limit. He thanked the Morioris as profusely as he was able, and took the liberty of presenting one of the ceremonial gifts intended for the ruler of the Maoris to the headman of the Morioris, with the promise of more to come as trade between their countries increased.
“For I truly believe,” he said with fervor, “that we cannot have come so far, through such danger, only to fail in the task the True Inca mandated. Already I look forward to the day when we will return again to meet you, when we will be able to sit down as old friends and share our tales of adventure on the ocean. ’ ’
Several drums and wooden bells were beaten. The people gathered in the cent
ral plaza cheered and whistled. The noise was terrific.
“They are pleased.” Etenyi said. She had to shout into Pallatu’s ear to be heard.
“Good,” said Pallatu. “Then perhaps they’ll help finish loading the ships.”
The leave-taking continued even after the two vessels were loaded and the small engines fired up to drive the paddlewheels. Morioris came out to surround the ships and give them escort out of the harbor. They sang for the foreigners, and threw flowers into the wakes of their ships.
Only when the Morioris had turned back did Apenimon go aloft in his kite, his tether playing out in the billowing wind in a long, graceful curve. On the deck far below, his twin watched anxiously, though he would not go near the donkey engine that held the tether.
“Tulapa,” said Iyestu as he came near his older brother, “you are looking much better now.” He said it heartily enough, but the truth was in his eyes and he could not change it: Tulapa’s body had recovered but his spirit continued to ail, and it showed in the som-bemess of the boy, and a jerkiness of movement that he had not had before.
“The ocean is calmer,” he said, looking toward the stem instead of the prow. ‘ * And we are not far from the lands of the Maoris now. What is the name of the city we were told to seek?”
“Rotorua, ’ said Iyestu. “It’s in the mountains, due north and a little east of the port of Wairoa.” He was proud of how well he had remembered what the Mo-rioris had told them the night before. “In fact, it is an arrangement just like the one at home, with the capital inland, protected by forts and cannon. It’ll be just like Algoma and Machu Picchu, won’t it?”
“We’ll take the steam railway to the capital,” said TUlapa, as if his decision was final for all of them.
“Oh, you can if you want,” said Iyestu, dismissing the notion for himself. “Why ride?”
“I’ve never ridden on a steam railway,” Tiilapa said defensively, his face flushing suddenly.
Iyestu shrugged. “They’re probably not much different than the funicular cars, except they have wheels and they carry their boilers with them.” He sighed, watching the bow-wave break as it curled back from the prow. “Well, you do as you wish, I’ll stay with my kite. I want to fly there. ’ ’
Tulapa’s eyes were hard and bright. “You want to shame me, don’t you mean? If you think I dishonor our clan, or our family, you say so. Stop this digging, digging, digging at me!” He flung away from his brother and started toward the companionway.
“Wait!” Iyestu cried out. “Tulapa, wait! I didn’t mean anything like that. I didn’t!” He could hear his brother rushing down the steep ladder, cursing as he went. “Tblapa!” he shouted, but was given no response .
“Don’t press him,” said a voice nearby, and Iyestu turned to see Pallatu stroll from the main cabin. “I’ve seen it happen with sailors, too. They have a bad voyage and it poisons the sea for them, as I suspect that storm poisoned the air for your brother. It will pass.” “Are you sure?” Iyestu asked. “He is so different.” Pallatu nodded. “It will pass,” he repeated, then deliberately changed the subject. “Ten more days, did they say, if the winds are favorable?”
“Nine or ten,” said Iyestu, his worry forgotten. “We will see the Maori islands in two or three days, aloft.” He smiled again, this time secretively, relishing his plan.
“If the winds stay with us, yes,” agreed Pallatu. He indicated the tether, noting the way it swayed. “The winds are higher aloft, aren’t they, when the tether looks like that.”
“Usually,” said Iyestu, trying not to resent Pallatu for knowing Spider things. “Sometimes it means there are currents moving two different ways.”
“We see that on the ocean, sometimes,” said Pallatu, then put his hand on Iyestu’s shoulder. “Come. Let me have your company for a meal. Your sister will join us,” he went on blandly. “Whale ship, Whale rules. ’ ’
“Of course,” said Iyestu with an uneasy glance at Apenimon’s tether.
“The deck watch will guard him, Iyestu,” Pallatu said gently. “And Ttilapa will not have to remember his own dread.”
While he was trying to think of a reasonable objection, Pallatu led him away to his quarters.
A bronze-sailed junk limped into Algoma, its pennons flying upside down to signal distress. The Whale and Rat clans sent their men out to her to find out what was wrong. They returned with the first officer, who had assumed captaincy when his superior was killed.
“We were just south of Mexico,” the first officer explained to Sathale and the Four High Priests. “We wanted to pick up some of the fine embroidery the women of those little districts do so well.” He had a half-healed cut on his cheek and he limped when he walked. “Zhiao Ping, my captain, used all reasonable caution, keeping the cannon on deck and sending the crew ashore with muskets and pistols as well as gold.” “Yes,” said Sathale. “Under the circumstances, a very sound practice.”
“Not sound enough,” the officer said. “We were set upon as we returned to the ship. Tvo Mexican warships came, flanking our junk while it was still at anchor and while most of the crew was in the rowboats returning from the land.” He took a deep, uneven breath. “They didn’t want goods or gold, though they took every weapon they could. All in all, they made off with fourteen men, more than half the crew, and they killed or seriously injured five more.”
“Leaving you how many to man the ship?” Sathale asked.
“Not enough. Nine of us. We have had to work twice as long as our regulations require. We can’t return to China without repairs and more men for the crew. ’5 “The crew, the crew,” the True Inca mused. “Men and weapons. ’
“They’re getting ready for a fight,” said Akando, adding, “You don’t have to be a Raven to see that.” “No,” said Dyami shortly. “Well?” He listened as Sathale promised aid to the foreigners.
“Thank you, Glorious Ruler, for aiding this insignificant person in a time of unanticipated need.” The Chinese officer bowed and saluted, then left the room with a Crane escort.
“What do you think?” asked Sathale, when the Chinese officer was gone.
“I think,” Akando said, “that our neighbors to the north are getting restless. I think they want to go to war with someone. The question is: who?”
“Seizures like that one will serve to put us on notice,” said Dyami. “What reason do they have to issue warning? ’ *
“Yes,” said Akando. “An unwise move. Unless they intended to deliver a message.” He met Sathale’s gaze. “It was a desperate thing, True Inca.”
“And there is no excuse for desperation.” Sathale slowly made a gesture of resignation. “You must do what you must do.”
Akando rose, still looking at the True Inca instead of the other High Priests. “They’ll kill us together, no doubt: you for your treason and me for protecting you.” “I am sorry about the ships.” Sathale was speaking only to Akando, and there was a calm in him that was new. “If I had thought there was another way, I would never have sent them to their deaths. If I hadn’t needed a plausible diversion, I would never have mandated so hopeless a voyage. I want you to believe that.”
“I believe it, but it changes nothing,” said Akando, and began to explain to the others.
Yesterday afternoon Apenimon had caught sight of the Maori islands in the distance before his tether had been reeled in, and now that he was aloft and his spectacles strapped in place, Iyestu saw them clearly. He grinned, testing the foot controls on his kite. The others might think it too radical a design, too hard to operate, but he loved it. He nudged his left pedal and rode the swoop laughing. All it took was another gentle nudge and the kite was once again sailing steadily on the wind.
As Iyestu looked down and back at the Whales’ Breath and the Black Dolphin, he felt a surge of pride.
How astonished they will be, he thought, when they discover what I have done. He felt for the knife in his belt and was reassured to find it, though he had checked it frequently
since he went into the air. All the way across the ocean he had been perfecting his plan, and now he told himself that he was ready. The wind was right, the islands lay ahead: with any luck, he would arrive two days ahead of the ships below. And they, who would be grieving for his loss, would have him doubly returned. He would bring fame to the Spiders; he would fulfill the True Inca’s Mandate. Imagining his welcome, first from the leaders of the Maoris, and then from his own people as they were reunited, Iyestu drew the knife and caught up the hasp of his tether. The cable was thick and for all its lightness, it was persistently tough. Iyestu sawed at it, sweating despite the cool wind that rushed by him.
And then, impossibly, finally, he was free. The tether plummeted away from him, down to the shine of the distant ocean. Iyestu watched, but could not see where the tether fell. Then he looked ahead, to the distant peaks of the islands of the Maoris. He gave a little kick and the kite soared; another and he hovered as readily as a gull. With the tether gone he picked up speed, racing up the sky toward the splendid, distant mountains and glory.
Robert Silverberg, Beyond the Gate of Worlds
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