"But—"
"Choose. Choose now." Jerry pushed his way into Odysseus' personal space.
"You don't have any chains," said Odysseus sulkily.
"We have a couple of sorceresses," said Jerry with supreme confidence.
* * *
"Have you been taking an assertiveness course?" asked Liz dryly.
"From you." Jerry held onto the bench so that they wouldn't see how his hands had begun to shake.
She shook her head. "I think the pupil just wiped the floor with his teacher."
"The pupil was stoned and is now into nervous reaction. Let's hope like hell Medea can do her chain trick."
* * *
"I've just figured out why Ody is taking this so easily," said Jerry later, very quietly.
Lamont looked across at the Achaeans, ankle-chained and then with two running chains snaking through the rowing benches and ankle chains. Medea had "magicked them up" out of loose odds and ends in the soldiers' rucks and Liz's handbag.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because a hundred and eighty feet of fine iron chain is worth a damn sight more than this ship. He was looking for angles—until Medea started her tricks on the chain. Then suddenly he shut up. He hit Eurylochus just as he started to say something. I thought he just didn't want trouble. Ha. He'd outthought me. They can pull those benches up in two seconds."
Lamont looked at the captive Achaeans. "They'd still have to come at us in single file."
"Three jerks together and they'd snap that bowsprit stave. Or the chain."
Lamont looked at the solid oak bowsprit stave they'd attached one end of the chain to. "Maybe not so easy. But you're right."
"What are you guys gossiping about?" Liz had squatted down next to them. They explained.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the chain. "Hmm. Are you sure, Jerry? About the chain being worth an arm and a leg, that is?"
Jerry nodded. "Absolutely certain. Look at the fights and effort that went into recovering any of the `arms' of a hero in the Iliad. We've got no conception of just how valuable wrought metal was, and a piece of work as fine and uniform as that chain . . . "
"Okay, okay. Now I get what you were saying earlier, about Cruz and Mac carrying a fortune in metal with them." Liz pursed her lips, to stop them twitching into a smile. "I wonder. Do you think this tub has drainage bungs?"
Jerry blinked. She thought like a jackrabbit. "I don't know."
"Hmm. Must have, I guess. Maybe back near the steering oars. I'll take a little swim this evening," she said, with a wicked little chuckle.
29
Not so wily, after all.
The black pentekonter had a shallow draft. She wouldn't have far to swim to check out the underside. That was a blessing. It was still as scary as hell, even with the moon bright in a starlit sky, to swim quietly through the dark water, feeling the hull. Presently Liz's exploring fingers were rewarded. .&npsp;. with a brass loop. . . . Just behind the steering oars. Carefully she tied the rope onto it before swimming back.
* * *
By the afternoon of the next day even the value of the chains they were planning to steal wasn't enough to stop Odysseus' crew from being on the edge of revolt. They were after all not serfs or slaves. They were all at least minor nobility. And even their prince had been poorly in control of them. Being chained up was bad enough. But being chained up for a day and night at sea, when they were accustomed to landing, was too much—especially in the heat. Well, especially as they were an ill-disciplined pack of minor aristocracy, accustomed to doing things their own way, and not having to take it in turns to urinate over the side.
Then the sea boiled with an immense dragon.
"fShe's mine!" yelled Smitar and Bitar in obvious delight, diving down at the newly appeared dragon in the water.
"Hey gorgeoufs, where have you been all my life?" bellowed Smitar.
"Ignore him. He'fs a boor. And he'fs got no teeth," shouted Bitar.
"Neither have you, fsilly!"
The bickering, snapping dragons tumbled out of the sky, onto the newcomer. And she disappeared.
"What did you go and frighten her off for?" complained Smitar.
Bitar looked huffy. "I didn't! You did!"
A tree slowly disappearing into the ocean attracted Smitar's attention. "I fsay. What'fs this carob tree doing here in the water?"
Bitar looked thoughtfully at it. "fSinking," he said, finally.
Smitar snorted in irritation. "I didn't expect it to be doing the breafst-fstroke. I meant it wafsn't here a minute ago."
The carob tree, about to disappear forever into the depths, turned into a leaping and dancing flame. This was also a poor choice of shape for the water. In a flicker there was a huge gray seal swimming there, twisting agilely in the wine-dark waves. The Achaeans, who had been on the verge of rebellion moments before, now moaned in fear.
"Who or what is this . . . creature?" asked Henri warily.
"Proteus of Egypt," said Jerry. "Otherwise known as `the old man of the sea,' who lives at Pharos, an island off the mouth of the Nile. He can change his shape at will. He keeps seals like a shepherd."
"He's welcome to them," snorted Liz. "Smelly, nasty things."
"I always thought seals were kinda neat," Lamont protested, looking at the plump gray seal that was now riding the bow wave.
"You aren't a commercial fisherman. Hell. I shouldn't say that. If you ever get home, with your luck, you could go commercial with a handline, Lamont. But go on, Jerry. Wrack that brain. Is this thing dangerous?"
"He is a renowned seer, but I have not heard ill of him," offered Medea.
Jerry tugged his wispy beard. It had become less wispy over the last while. "He owes allegiance to Poseidon, like Triton. But he is one of the sons of Oceanus and Tethys."
"Indeed." The seal spoke, its face transforming briefly into that of an old, gray-bearded man. "My father Oceanus sends greetings. He sent word to all his Oceanid sons, to search for you."
"What does the Titan Oceanus want from us?" asked Jerry suspiciously.
"He wishes to cry you a warning, mortals. Poseidon has suddenly left off his banishment of my father to the distant waters of his retirement. Poseidon is seeking you instead. He wishes you drowned or buried beneath the shaking lands."
"And what's this Oceanus guy's beef?" demanded Cruz.
Proteus' fins briefly transformed as he threw out his hands. "My father was lord of the river ocean, until the rule of the Olympians. Then he was retired to distant waters and the oceans passed into the hands of blue-eyed Amphitrite and her consort Poseidon. For many years now our universe has been a fading and passing thing."
The old man of the sea dived and emerged with a fish across his jaws. This he tossed up, caught and swallowed before continuing. "Yet, a short while ago came a force which the Titans, the powers before Olympia, had never felt before. A blossoming of a strange and dark life came to our universe. My father found himself lord of the river ocean again . . . reinstated . . . and now the Olympian Poseidon has come to banish him again. Olympus is mighty. But we Titans would give what aid we could to those who oppose it."
"Help your enemy's enemies." Cruz nodded. "That makes sense."
McKenna looked skeptically at the seal-man. "So what's on offer?"
"Guidance and speed to Pharos. Aye, and even into the heaven-fed waters of the Nile. My oracular skills to see as much of your future as I can. I know you must go to Egypt. I know you must get away from the wrath of Poseidon. The sea will be unsafe for you. It is uncertain what happens in Egypt because you disappear from my vision."
"Maybe we get home!" said Lamont, with longing in his voice.
"Holy cow!" roared Liz. "What have you done to the ship?! She's nearly up on the plane! There are hundreds of seals pushing us! Get that sail DOWN! Get to the back!"
* * *
It was strange to sail in still water. To the west and seaward lay Pharos, the isle of the seal herder, Proteus, its sandy shore licked by the rol
lers. Here in the broad mouth of what must be the Canopic Nile, the rowers had to stroke again. The seals and Proteus had gone. It was already late afternoon, but the sun beat down mercilessly, and had Jerry blessing the northerly breeze. The shoreline was verdant.
The settlement looked small and fairly non-threatening. Jerry was still as nervous as a cat. Not even the sight of other peaceful vessels convinced him this was not yet another unpleasant surprise. The dragons were keeping a high and distant eye over them so as not to frighten the townsfolk into fits. It made sense. It also made them further off and this left Jerry feeling quite uncomfortable.
They slid alongside a simple quay. That was a pleasant surprise. It would make a change not to get wet to the waist hauling the black ship up. The sun was lowering in the western sky, casting long shadows. Ha! Ashore for the night and not having to dry out by the fire before going to sleep! Undreamed of luxury!
"Do we unchain them?" asked Jerry quietly.
"No," said Liz, smiling nastily.
"Well, should some of us stay on board?" Lamont was gathering his possessions.
Liz shook her head. "I gather the sea is going to be a good thing to stay out of, Lamont. If the silly buggers run away we can always hire one of the local boats. They can't be as untrustworthy as our buddy Ody."
"Why don't we just let them go, then?"
"We might want a ride a bit further upstream. Let's first check things out around here," said Cruz.
The locals hadn't exactly rushed up to the Mycenaean raider. Still, they hadn't run away yet either. And some fresh food and a chance to stretch their legs on a surface that didn't move would be good.
* * *
Odysseus watched them go ashore with satisfaction. The dragons were gone. And the fools hadn't even made them take the oars out of the leather slings. He slipped the folding boarding pike out from under the rowing benches. "Pass it down. Cut that rope and we'll be away from here. It's a pity that they've taken their bags, but tonight we'll slip in when they think we've gone. Cut their throats. Best thing to do with sorcerers. Anyway, we can pick up a few good slaves from among the locals. Also we have this chain! Did you ever see such a magnificent piece of workmanship. Worth a king's ransom."
The leather hawser didn't last long. "Right. Push her off quietly. Then churn the water, boys. We'll get free of the chain once we're well clear."
* * *
The splashing made Jerry look back. "Look! Odysseus and his gang are taking off!"
"How sad," said Medea, looking anything but.
"Oh dear. They're still chained," said Liz cheerfully.
* * *
Odysseus smiled triumphantly. "Right, men! All together now. A-one, a-two, three! I felt it move! Again! A-one, a-two, THREE!"
Odysseus' crew fell over each other as the chain's attachment came free. The crew cheered.
"Pull it through the leg loops."
"Come on, move it up!"
Odysseus had already climbed onto the stern railings. "Hear me, you Americans—and you, evil sorceress of Colchis. I, the wily Odysseus, the son of Laertes, Sacker of Cities, Conqueror of the Cyclops, the Symplegades, the Sirens, and even the mighty Tritons, have outwitted you! I have stolen your great chain! I gloat!"
"Here, Odysseus." Eurylochus handed him the chain end. "Get it through your legs. We need to set a course to lie up in those reeds till tonight."
"What's this on the end of the rope?" Odysseus looked at the large wooden plug with a loop of hammered brass set into it.
Eurylochus shrugged. "Whatever it was tied to. . . . " His eyes went wide. Water was already flooding up between the rowing benches.
He grabbed Odysseus by the throat. "VERY wily Odysseus!" he hissed.
* * *
From across almost seven hundred yards of water, the party of snatchees heard the taunts of Odysseus. And then saw the black ship being frantically rowed towards a mudbank. It didn't look like the Achaeans were going to make it.
"I think he's just pulled the chain," said Jerry with a straight face.
"Do you think he's feeling flushed with pride?" asked Lamont.
Liz groaned. Still, it had been worth going swimming in the dark.
"It is his own fault. Fancy referring to me as `American.' Pah. He was totally lacking . . . "
As Mac scowled at Henri . . . the view blurred.
It wasn't just the wind escaping from the windsack either.
* * *
Egypt! The Thunderer was just so lazy! He was the only one of the gods who had interfered much in Egypt. And that had been in the fight against the Titans. But right now Zeus was more concerned with the unrest in the ranks of the Olympians than in obeying the Krim device's commands. Well, they had put themselves into the geographical sphere of another Ur-Mythworld. Let them go there. The masters had now had word about the place the Krim device had prepared for them to play in.
It needed to eliminate the disruptive element. Let them go to Egypt. Let them rot there. The Ur-Mythworld of ancient Egypt was proving exceptionally difficult. He had Set. He had Sekmet. And he had Sebek. But that little dwarf had told the Krim probe to go fuck itself. It had been a novel idea to the sexless device. Anyway, the whole Ur-universe was only partially reanimated. A few of the primitive aliens taken by the Ur-transfer device had been put there, to help with the reanimation process. The image in their cellular memory helped. But this was all annoying in the extreme. The Krim had not encountered such independence in the Ur-universes of the other species they'd parasitized. Let the problematic unbelievers go and rot there.
30
You can't break
what you can't touch.
Miggy Tremelo sat in Colonel McNamara's commandeered office. There were still signs of the previous occupant's interest in geology all over the place. McNamara leaned back and fiddled with his pipe. It was a ritual plainly designed to give the man thinking time. Tremelo played along.
"Your idea about using the men who had been on day one of operations worked. We only lost one of them."
"Glad to hear it. The device must be selecting or detecting certain types of victims. That is the first decent step forward we've had all day."
"But the damn thing is still expanding. And the snatch range just gets bigger." The colonel puffed on his pipe. He fiddled with a match. Then he took a deep breath. "I'm not supposed to tell you what I'm doing. Orders from on high. But . . . it appears you'll detect it anyway. And even if not, the NSA will probably tell you about it. We've got a specialist demolitions team coming in this afternoon."
Tremelo nodded. "We advised them to try coned-steel-cutting demolition charges. One of our men will be accompanying them."
"Humph. And I'm supposed to keep it a secret! However . . . that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about. If that fails, we're to pull everybody back to outside a five-mile perimeter. They're starting to talk about using a small tactical nuke."
Tremelo raised his eyes to heaven. "And what do these geniuses think they'll achieve with a nuclear explosion, besides a smaller package to deliver the explosive and some incidental radiation? Every single thing we've thrown at that alien device has bounced off. No, worse—the destructive energy actually seems to help the thing grow."
The physicist stared at a rock hammer lying on a nearby bench. Following the direction of his eyes, Colonel McNamara chuckled. "Hey, Miggy, gimme a break. It's not my idea, so busting my head won't accomplish anything." He blew out a cloud of smoke. "Truth is, I pretty much agree with you on this subject."
Tremelo smiled. "Look, Frank. I won't let on I heard about this from you, but I'll get onto my contact at the NSC, and if necessary get hold of the President himself. I'll do what I can to head off this tactical nuke scheme. Without knowing what we're doing, that's a recipe for disaster."
McNamara gave him a level gaze. "You know how it works, Miggy. The Powers That Be want action. Half the time, at least, they're more worried about their standing in the public opinion polls than they are
about anything else."
"I should have stayed in pure research," muttered Tremelo. Then, firmly: "I'll toss them a bone. I'll suggest—as one of several alternatives—that we try a bomb-pumped laser. And you never heard me mention that either. Officially, the U.S. doesn't have any neutron devices."
He sighed. "I can't say I like that idea much either, but by comparison the device we don't have is a lot cleaner than a tac nuke. And more likely to be effective, if anything is."
The colonel lit his pipe again. "It's not being able to hit back that's driving everybody nuts."
"I understand that. And I'm aware that the government is under a fair amount of international pressure, too. Being as this is the University of Chicago, there have been a large number of foreign nationals snatched as well as American citizens. But the fact remains that `hitting back' for the sake of it, when you're swinging blind, is still just stupid."
Colonel McNamara nodded. "No quarrel with that here. Especially since it's my men who have to do the swinging."
Tremelo stood up. "I'll do what I can. Now, you'll have to excuse me, Colonel. I've got to get back to the team doing the analysis of the snatch victims. This information about the men who were within range but not taken yesterday being ignored today could be a real lead."
* * *
Marie was serving as Tremelo's unofficial chauffeur as well as everything else, using—for mysterious reasons having to do with the intricacies of "expense accounts"—her own very-far-from-new Buick. On the drive back to his own office, Marie gave Tremelo a questioning glance. The physicist's tight face was answer enough.
"Get a bigger hammer," she muttered.
* * *
Marie dropped Miggy off at the front of the building which held his office. Then she drove around to Tremelo's "officially designated" parking space. She was not surprised to see that a Humvee loaded with soldiers was occupying it while they had lunch.
These soldiers knew her, since they were assigned as guards for the building. When she pulled up the car and leaned her head out of the window, they greeted her with grins. Like most veterans of the campaign against the pyramid, they were quite cheerful and relaxed.