A Deepness in the Sky Part 33

"My people!"

The crowd noise died to near silence. A million faces looked up at him, across at him, down at him.

"You hear my voice now with barely a second's time lag. Here in Meeting, we hear our fellow Qeng Ho, even those from far Earth, in less than a second. For this first and maybe only time, we can see what we all are. And we can decide what we will be.

"My people, congratulations. We have come across light-centuries and rescued a great civilization from extinction. We did this despite the most terrible treachery." He paused, gestured solemnly at the sweep of empty seats.

"Here at Namqem, we have broken the wheel of history. On a thousand worlds, Humankind has fought and fought, and even made itself extinct. The only thing that saves the race is time and distance-and until now that has also condemned humanity to repeat its failures.

"The old truths still hold: Without a sustaining civilization, no isolated collection of ships and humans can rebuild the core of technology. But at the same time: Without help from outside, no sessile civilization can persist."

Pham paused. He felt a wan smile steal across his face. "And so there is hope. Together, the two halves of what Humankind has become can make the whole live forever." He looked all around, and let his huds magnify individual faces. They were listening. Would they finally agree? "The whole can live forever. . .if we can make the Qeng Ho more than mere sellers to customers."

Pham didn't remember much of the actual speaking of his speech; the ideas and the entreaties were such deep habits in his mind. His recollection was of the faces, the hope he saw in so many, the guarded caution he saw in so many more. In the end, he reminded them that a vote would be coming up, a final call on everything he had ever asked for. "So. Without your help we will surely fail, destroyed by the same wheel that crushes our Customer civilizations. But if you look just a little beyond the trade of the moment, if you make this extra investment in the future, then no dream will be beyond our ultimate reach."

If the hall had been under acceleration, or on a planetary surface, Pham would have stumbled coming down from the platform. As it was, Sammy Park had to snag him as he pa.s.sed the entrance curtains.

Above their heads, past the curtains, the sound of applause seemed to be getting louder.

Sura had remained in the anteroom, but there were other new faces-Ratko, Butra, and Qo. His first children, now older than he was.

"Sura!"

Her chair gave a little chuff, chuff, and she floated across the s.p.a.ce between them. and she floated across the s.p.a.ce between them.

"Will you congratulate me on my speech?" Pham grinned, still feeling giddy. He extended his hands, gently took Sura's. She was so frail, so old. Oh Sura! This should be our triumph. Oh Sura! This should be our triumph. Sura was going to lose this one. And now she was so old, she would never see it as anything but defeat. She would never see what they both had wrought. Sura was going to lose this one. And now she was so old, she would never see it as anything but defeat. She would never see what they both had wrought.

The applause above them grew still louder. Sura glanced up. "Yes. In every way, you have done better than I had thought. But then, you have always done better than anyone could imagine." Her synthetic voice managed to sound sad and proud at the same time. She gestured away from the anteroom and the noise. Pham followed her out, and the sounds faded behind him. "But you know how much of this is luck, don't you?" she continued. "You wouldn't have had a chance if Namqem hadn't come apart just as the fleet of fleets arrived."

Pham shrugged. "It was good luck indeed. But it proved my point, Sura! We both know that a collapse like this can be the deadliest-and we saved them."

What he could see of Sura's body was clothed in a quilted business suit that could not disguise the gauntness of her limbs. But her mind and will remained, sustained by the medical unit in her chair. Sura's shake of the head was as forceful and almost as natural as when she'd been a young woman. "Saved them? You made a difference certainly, but billions still died. Be honest, Pham. It took a thousand years for us to set up this meeting. It's not the sort of thing that can be done every time some civilization goes down the toilet. And without the Maresk die-off, even your five thousand ships would not have been enough. The whole system would be at the edge of its carrying capacity, with still greater disasters in the near future."

All that had occurred to Pham; he had argued against variants of the point for Msecs before the Meeting. "But Namqem is the hardest rescue we could possibly face, Sura. An old civilization, entrenched, a civilization exploiting every solar-system resource. We would have had a much easier time with a world threatened with bio-plague or even a totalitarian religion."

Sura was shaking her head. Even now she ignored what Pham set before her. "No. In most cases, you can make a difference, but more often than not it will be like Canberra-a small difference for the better, and written in Trader blood. You're right: Without the fleet of fleets, civilization would have died here in Namqem system. But some people would have survived on Namqem world; some of the asteroid-belt urbs might have survived. The old story would have been repeated, and someday there would be civilization here again, even if by external colonization. You have bridged that abyss, and billions are rightly grateful. . .but it will take years of careful management to bring this system back. Maybe we here"-her hand twitched in the direction of the Meeting Hall-"can do that, and maybe not. But I know that we can't do it for the universe and for all time." Sura did something, and her chair chuff chuff 'd to a halt. 'd to a halt.

She turned, extended her arms to touch Pham's shoulders. And suddenly Pham had the strangest feeling, almost a kinesthetic memory, of looking up into her face and feeling her hands on his shoulders. It was a memory from before they were partners, before they were lovers. A memory from their earliest time on the Reprise: Reprise: Sura Vinh, the young woman, serious. There were times when she'd gotten so angry with little Pham Nuwen. There were times when she'd reached out to grab his shoulders, tried to hold him still long enough to make him understand what his young barbarian mind chose to ignore. "Son, don't you see? We span all Human s.p.a.ce, but we can't manage whole civilizations. You'd need a race of loving slaves to do it. And we Qeng Ho will never be that." Sura Vinh, the young woman, serious. There were times when she'd gotten so angry with little Pham Nuwen. There were times when she'd reached out to grab his shoulders, tried to hold him still long enough to make him understand what his young barbarian mind chose to ignore. "Son, don't you see? We span all Human s.p.a.ce, but we can't manage whole civilizations. You'd need a race of loving slaves to do it. And we Qeng Ho will never be that."

Pham forced himself to look back into Sura's eyes. She had argued this since the beginning, and never wavered. I should have known it would cometo this someday. I should have known it would cometo this someday. So now she would lose, and Pham could do nothing to help her. "I'm sorry Sura. When you give your speech, you can say this to a million people. Many of them will believe. And then we'll allvote. And-" And from what he had seen in the Great Hall, and what he saw in Sura Vinh's eyes. . .for the first time, Pham So now she would lose, and Pham could do nothing to help her. "I'm sorry Sura. When you give your speech, you can say this to a million people. Many of them will believe. And then we'll allvote. And-" And from what he had seen in the Great Hall, and what he saw in Sura Vinh's eyes. . .for the first time, Pham knew knew that he had won. that he had won.

Sura turned away, and her artificial voice was soft. "No. I won't be giving that speech. Elections? Funny that you should be depending on them now.. . .We've heard how you ended the Strentmannian Pogrom."

The change in topic was absurd, but the comment touched a nerve. "I was down to one ship, Sura. What would you have done?" I saved theird.a.m.n civilization, the part that wasn't monstrous. I saved theird.a.m.n civilization, the part that wasn't monstrous.

Sura raised her hand. "I'm sorry.. . .Pham, you are just too lucky, too good." She seemed almost to be talking to herself now. "For almost a thousand years, you and I have worked to make this meeting. It was always a sham, but along the way, we created a trading culture that may last as long as your optimistic dreams. And I always knew that in the end, when we were all face-to-face in a Grand Meeting, common sense would prevail." She shook her head, and a smile quavered. "But I never imagined that luck would give you the Namqem debacle so perfectly timed-or that you would master it like magic. Pham, if we follow your way, we'll likely have disaster here in Namqem within a decade. In a few centuries, the Qeng Ho will fragment into a dozen dozen conflicting structures that all think themselves 'interstellar governances.' And the dream we shared will be destroyed.

"You're right, Pham. You might win the election. . .and that's why there won't be one, at least not the kind you think."

The words didn't register for a moment. Pham Nuwen had been exposed to treachery a hundred times. The sense for it was burned into him before he'd ever seen a starship. But. . . Sura Sura? Sura was the only one he could always trust, his savior, his lover, his best friend, the one he'd schemed with for a lifetime. And now- Pham looked around the room, his mind undergoing a change-of-ground more profound than any in his life. Besides Sura, there were Sura's aides, six of them. There were also Ratko and Butra and Qo. Of his own a.s.sistants-there was only Sammy Park. Sammy stood a little off to the side; he looked sick.

Finally, he looked back at Sura. "I don't understand. . .but whatever the game, there's no way you can change the election. A million people heard me."

Sura sighed. "They heard you, and you might have a bare majority in a fair election. But many you think supported you. . .are really with me."

She hesitated, and Pham looked again at his three children. Ratko avoided his gaze, but Butra and Qo looked back with grim steadiness. "We never wanted to hurt you, Papa," Ratko said, finally looking at him. "We love you. This whole charade of a meeting was supposed to show you that the Qeng Ho could not be what you wished. But it didn't go the way we expected-"

Ratko's words didn't matter. It was the look on his children's faces. It was the same closed stoniness of Pham's brothers and sisters, one Canberra morning. And all the love in between. . . a charade a charade?

He looked back at Sura. "So how do you propose to win? With the sudden, accidental death of half a million people? Or just the selective a.s.sa.s.sination of thirty thousand hard-core Nuwenists? It won't work, Sura. There are too many good people out there. Maybe you can win this day, but the word will remain, and sooner or later, you'll have your civil war."

Sura shook her head. "We're not killing anyone, Pham. And the word won't go out, at least not widely. Your speech will be remembered by those in the hall, but their recorders-most are using our information utilities. Our free hospitality, remember? Ultimately your speech will be polished into something. . .safer."

Sura continued, "Over the next twenty Ksec, you will be in special meeting with your opposition. Coming out of that you will announce a compromise: The Qeng Ho will put a much greater effort into our network information services, the sort of thing that can help rebuild civilizations. But you will withdraw your notion of interstellar governance, convinced by the arguments of the rest of us."

A charade. "You could fake that. But afterwards, you'll still have to kill a lot of people."

"No. You will announce your new goal, an expedition to the far side of Human s.p.a.ce. It will be clear that this is partly out of bitterness, but you will wish us well. Your far fleet is almost ready, Pham, about twenty degrees back along the Gap. We have equipped it honestly and well. Your fleet's automation is unusually good, far more expensive than what would be profitable. You won't need a continuous Watch, and the first wake-up will be centuries from now."

Pham looked from face to face. Something like Sura's treachery could work, but only if most of the Fleet Captains that he thought supported him were really like Ratko and Butra and Qo. And then only if they had set up proper lies with their own people. "How. . .long have you been planning this, Sura?"

"Ever since you were a young man, Pham. Most of the years of my life. But I prayed it would never come to this."

Pham nodded, numb. If she had planned that long, there would be no obvious mistakes. It didn't matter. "My fleet awaits, you say?" His lips twisted around the words. "And all the incorrigibles will surely be its crew. How many? Thirty thousand?"

"A good deal less, Pham. We've studied your hard-core supporters very carefully."

Given the choice, who wanted to go on a one-way trip to forever? They had been very careful to keep those supporters out of this room. All but Sammy. "Sammy?"

His Flag Captain met his eyes, but his lips were trembling. "Sir. I'm s-sorry. Jun wants a different life for me. We-we're still Qeng Ho, but we can't ship with you."

Pham inclined his head. "Ah."

Sura floated closer, and Pham realized that if he pushed off, he could probably grab the handle on her chair and ram his fist right through her scrawny quilted chest. And break my hand for the effort. And break my hand for the effort. Sura's heart had been a machine for centuries. "Son? Pham? It was a beautiful dream, and along the way it made us what we are. But in the end it was just a dream. A failed dream." Sura's heart had been a machine for centuries. "Son? Pham? It was a beautiful dream, and along the way it made us what we are. But in the end it was just a dream. A failed dream."

Pham turned away without responding. Now there were guards by the doors, waiting to escort him. He didn't look at his children. He brushed past Sammy Park without a word. From somewhere in the still, cold depths of his heart, something wished his Flag Captain well. Sammy had betrayed him, but not like the others. And no doubt Sammy believed the lies about a far fleet. He hoped that Sammy would never see through them. Who would ever pay for a fleet such as Sura described? Not crafty merchants like Sura Vinh and her stone-faced children and the others who had plotted this day. Far cheaper, far safer to build a fleet of real coffins. My father would haveunderstood. My father would haveunderstood. The best enemies are the ones who sleep without end. The best enemies are the ones who sleep without end.

Then Pham was in a long corridor, surrounded by guards who were also strangers. His last vision of Sura's face still hung in Pham's imagination. There had been tears in the old woman's eyes. One last fakery.

A tiny cabin, mostly dark. The kind of room a junior officer might have in a small temp. Work jackets floated in a closet bag. A lapel tag whispered, and a name floated in his eyes: Pham Trinli. Pham Trinli.

As always, when Pham let the anger fill him, the memories were more vivid than any huds, and the return to the present was a kind of mocking. Sura's "far fleet" had not been a fleet of coffins. Even now, two thousand years after Sura's betrayal, Pham still could not explain that. Most likely, there had been other traitors, ones with some power and some conscience, who had insisted that Pham and those who wouldn't betray him must not be killed. The "fleet" had been scarcely more than refitted ram barges, with s.p.a.ce for nothing but the refugees and their coldsleep tanks. But there had been a separate trajectory for each ship of the "fleet." A thousand years later, they were scattered across the width and height of Human s.p.a.ce.

They had not been killed, but Pham had learned his lesson. He had begun his slow, silent journey back. Sura was beyond mortal reach. But there was still the Qeng Ho that he and she had created, the Qeng Ho that had betrayed him. He still had his dream.

. . .And he would have died with it at Triland, if Sammy had not dug him up. Now fate and time had handed him a second chance: the promise of Focus.

Pham shook away the past, and readjusted the localizers at his temple and in his ear. There was more work than ever to be done. He should have risked more face-to-face meetings with Vinh before now. With good feedback drills, Vinh could learn to handle shocks like this crazy Nau interview, without giving everything away. Yeah, that was the easy part. The hard part would be to keep him distracted from where Pham was ultimately headed.

Pham turned in his sleeping bag, let his breathing shift to a light snore. Behind his eyes, the images shifted to the action traces he was running on Reynolt and the snoops. He had fooled them again. In the long run. . .? If there weren't any more stupid surprises, in the long run, Anne Reynolt was still the greatest threat.

FORTY.

Hrunkner Unnerby flew into Calorica Bay on the First Day of the Dark. Over the years, Unnerby had been at Calorica a number of times. h.e.l.l, he'd been here right after mid-Brightness, when the bottom of the pit was still a boiling cauldron. In the years after that, the edge of the mountains had harbored a small town of construction engineers. During the mid-Brightness, conditions were h.e.l.lish even at high alt.i.tude, but the workers were very well paid; the launch facilities farther up in the altiplano were funded by a combination of royal and commercial monies, and after Hrunk installed good cooling machines, it wasn't an uncomfortable place to live. The rich people hadn't begun showing up until the Waning Years, settling as they had for each of the last five generations, in the caldera wall.

But of all Hrunk's visits, this had the strangest feel. The First Day of the Dark. It was a boundary in the mind more than anywhere else-and perhaps that made it even more important.

Unnerby had taken a commercial flight out of High Equatoria, but it was no tourister. High Equatoria might be only five hundred miles away, but it was as far as you could get from the wealth of Calorica Bay on the First Day of the Dark. Unnerby and his two a.s.sistants-bodyguards actually-waited until the other pa.s.sengers had clambered forward along the aisle webway. Then they pulled down their parkas and heated leggings and the two panniers that were the whole reason for the flight. Just short of the exit hatch, Hrunkner lost his grip on the webbing and one of the panniers fell by the feet of the aircraft's steward. The all-weather covering split partway open, revealing the contents to be shale-colored powder, carefully wrapped in plastic sacks.

Hrunkner dropped from the aisle webbing and refastened the pannier. The steward laughed, bemused. "I've heard it said High Equatoria's best export was plain mountain dirt-never expected to see anyone take it seriously."

Unnerby shrugged his embarra.s.sment. Sometimes that was the best cover. He reshouldered the pannier and made to b.u.t.ton his parka.

"Ah, um." The steward seemed about to say something more, but then stepped back and bowed them off the aircraft. The three of them rattled down the ladders to the tarmac, and suddenly it was obvious what else the fellow had been about to say. Just an hour ago, as they were leaving High Equatoria, the air had been eighty below freezing and the wind over twenty miles per hour. They had needed heated breathers just to walk from the High Eq terminal to the aircraft.

Here. . ."By d.a.m.n, this place is a furnace!" Brun Soulac, his junior security agent, set down her pannier and shrugged out of her parka.

The senior agent laughed, though she was guilty of the same foolishness. "What do you expect, Brun! It's Calorica Bay."

"Yeah, but this is the First Day of the Dark!"

Some of the other pa.s.sengers had been similarly shortsighted. They made a grotesque parade, hopping about as they shed parkas and breathers and leggings. Even so, Unnerby noticed that whenever Brun's hands and feet were totally occupied with shedding cold-weather gear, Arla Undergate had free hands and a clear view around them. Brun was similarly alert when Arla was shucking her overclothes. By some magic, their service pistols were never visible during the exercise. They could act like idiots, but underneath the act, Arla and Brun were as good as any soldiers Unnerby had known in the Great War.

The mission to High Equatoria might have been low-tech and low-key, but the Intelligence team in the airport was efficient enough. The bags of rock flour were carted off in armored cars; even more impressive, the major in charge had not even wisecracked about the absurdity of the operation.

Inside of thirty minutes, Hrunk and his now not-so-relevant bodyguards were out on the street.

"What d'ya mean, 'not relevant'?" Arla waved her arms in exaggerated wonder. "Not relevant was shepherding that. . .stuff across the continent." Neither of the two knew the importance of the rock flour, and they had not been shy in showing their contempt for it. They were good agents, but they didn't have the att.i.tude Hrunk was used to. "Now we have something important to guard." She jerked a hand in Unnerby's direction, and there was something serious behind the good humor. "Why didn't you make our life easy, and go with the major's people?"

Hrunkner smiled back. "It's more than an hour before I meet the chief. Plenty of time to walk the distance. Aren't you curious, Arla? How many ordinary folks get to see Calorica on the First Day of the Dark?"

Arla and Brun glowered at that, the look of noncoms confronted by stupid behavior that they could not correct. Unnerby had felt that way often enough in his life, though normally he hadn't shown his disapproval so obviously. The Kindred had demonstrated more than once their willingness to be violent on other peoples' lands. But I've lived seventy-five years, andthere are so many things to be afraid of. But I've lived seventy-five years, andthere are so many things to be afraid of. He was already moving away, toward the lights at the water's edge. Unnerby's usual bodyguards, the ones who accompanied him on his foreign site visits, would have bodily restrained him. Arla and Brun were loaners, not so well briefed. After a moment, they scurried forward to pace him. But Arla was talking into her little telephone. Unnerby grinned to himself. No, these two weren't stupid. He was already moving away, toward the lights at the water's edge. Unnerby's usual bodyguards, the ones who accompanied him on his foreign site visits, would have bodily restrained him. Arla and Brun were loaners, not so well briefed. After a moment, they scurried forward to pace him. But Arla was talking into her little telephone. Unnerby grinned to himself. No, these two weren't stupid. I wonder if I'll notice the agents she's calling. I wonder if I'll notice the agents she's calling.

Calorica Bay had been a wonder of the world since the earliest times. It was one of only three volcanic sites known-and the other two were under ice and ocean. The bay itself was actually the broken-down bowl of the volcano, and ocean waters drowned most of its central pit.

In the early years of a New Sun, it was a h.e.l.l of h.e.l.ls, though no one had directly observed the place then. The steeply curving walls of the bowl concentrated the sun's light and the temperatures climbed above the melting point of lead. Apparently this provoked-or allowed-fast lava seepage, and a continuous series of explosions, leaving new crater walls by the time the sun had dimmed to mid-Brightness. Even in those years, only the most foolhardy explorers poked themselves over the altiplano rim of the bowl.

But as the sun dimmed into the Waning Years of its cycle, a different visitor appeared. As northern and southern lands found winters that were steadily harsher, now the highest reaches of the bowl were pleasant and warm. And as the world cooled, lower and lower parts of the bowl became first accessible, and then a paradise. Over the last five generations, Calorica Bay had become the most exclusive resort of the Waning Years, the place where people so rich that they didn't have to save and work to prepare for the Dark could come and enjoy themselves. At the height of the Great War, when Unnerby was pounding snow on the Eastern Front, and even later, when most of the war was tunnel fighting-even then, he remembered seeing tinted engravings showing the life of mid-Brightness leisure that the idle rich led at the bottom of Calorica's bowl.

In a way, Calorica at the beginning of the Dark was like the world that modern engineering and atomic energy were bringing to the entire race of Spiders, for all the years of the Dark. Unnerby walked toward the music and lights ahead, wondering what he would see.

The crowds swirled everywhere. There was laughter and pipe music and occasional argument. And the people were strange in so many ways that for a while Unnerby did not notice the most important things.

He let the crowd motion jostle them this way and that like particles in a suspension. He could imagine how nervous Arla and Brun felt about this mob of uncleared strangers. But they made the most of it, blending into the rowdy noise, just accidentally staying within arm's reach of Unnerby. In a matter of minutes, the three had been swept down to the water's edge. Some in the crowd waved burning sticks of incense, but there was a stronger perfume here at the bottom of the crater, a sulfurous odor that drifted on the warm breeze. Across the water, at the middle of the bay, molten rock glowed in red and near-red and yellow. Steam floated up, wraithlike, all round the center pile. This was one body of water where no one need worry about bottom ice and leviathans-though a volcanic blast would kill them all just as dead.

"d.a.m.n!" Brun slipped out of character, jostled Unnerby back from the edge of the plaza. "Look out there in the water. There are people drowning!"

Unnerby stared a second at where she was pointing. "Not drowning. They're. . .by the Dark, they're playing in the water!" The half-submerged figures were wearing some sort of pontoons to keep from sinking. The three of them just stared, and he noticed they were not alone in their surprise, though most of the onlookers tried to cover their shock. Why would anyone play play at drowning? For a military goal perhaps; in warmer times, both Kindred and Accord had warships. at drowning? For a military goal perhaps; in warmer times, both Kindred and Accord had warships.

Thirty feet down the stone palisade, another reveler splashed into the water. Suddenly, the water's edge seemed like the edge of a deadly cliff. Unnerby backed off, away from the screams of delight or horror that came from the water. The three of them drifted across the bottom plaza toward light-bedecked trees. Here, in the open, they had a clear view of the sky and the caldera walls.

It was midafternoon, yet except for the cool-colored lights in the trees, and the heat colors from crater-center, it was as dark as any night. The sun looked down on them, a faint blotch in the sky, a reddish disk pocked with small dark marks.

The First Day of the Dark. Religions and nations set minor variations in the date. The New Sun began with an explosive blaze of light, though no one was alive to see it. But the end of the light-that was a slow waning that extended across almost the whole of the Brightness. For the last three years, the sun had been a pale thing, scarcely warming your back at high noon, dim enough to stare at with a fully open gaze. For the last year, the brighter stars had been visible all through the day. But even that was not officially the beginning of the Dark, though it was a sign that green plants couldn't grow anymore, that you'd better have your main food supplies in your deepness, and that tuber and grub farms would be all that could sustain you until it came time to retreat beneath the earth.

So in that gradual slide toward oblivion, what was it that marked the instant-the day at least-that was the first of the Dark? Unnerby stared straight at the sun. It was the color of a warm stovetop, but so dim he felt no warmth. It would get no dimmer. Now the world would simply grow colder and colder and colder with nothing more than starlight and that reddish disk to light it. From now on, the air would always be too cold to be easily breathed. In past generations, this marked the beginning of the final rush to store the necessities in one's deepness. In past generations, it marked the last chance for a father to provide for his cobblies' future. In past generations, it marked a time of high n.o.bility and great treason and cowardice, when all those who were not quite prepared were confronted by the fact of the Dark and the cold.

Here, today-Hrunk's attention moved to those on the plaza between him and the trees. There were some-old cobbers and many from the proper current generation-who raised their arms to the sun and then lowered them to embrace the earth and the promise that the long sleep should represent.

But the air around them was mild as a summer evening in the Middle Years. And the ground was warm, as if the sun of the Middle Years had just set and left the afternoon heat to seep up at them. Most of the people around them were not acknowledging the departure of light. They were laughing, singing-and their clothes were as bright and expensive as if they'd never given any thought to the future. Maybe the rich had always been like that.

The cool-colored lights in the trees must be powered by the main fission plant that Unnerby's companies had built in the highlands above the caldera, almost five years ago. They turned the bottomland forest all aglimmer. Someone had imported lazy woodsfairies, released them by the tens of thousands. Their wings glistened blue and green and far-blue in the light, as the creatures swirled in sympathy with the crowds under the trees.

In the forest, the people danced in piles, and some of the youngest ones ran up into the trees to play with the fairies. The music became frantic as they walked to the center of the grove and started up a gentle incline that would lead to the bottom estates. By now he was used to the sight of out-of-phase people. Even though his instincts still called them a perversion, they really were necessary. He liked and respected many of them. On either side of him, Arla and Brun were un.o.btrusively clearing the way for him. Both his guards were oophase, about twenty years old, just a little younger than Little Victory must be now. They were good cobbers, as good as any he had ever fought alongside of. Yes, case by case, Hrunkner Unnerby had come to terms with his revulsion. But. . . I've never seen so manyoophases, all together. I've never seen so manyoophases, all together.

"Hey, old fellow, come dance with us!" Two young ladies and a male pounced on him. Somehow Arla and Brun got him free, all the time pretending to be jolly dancers themselves. In the darkened s.p.a.ce beneath one tree, Unnerby got a glimpse of what looked like a fifteen-year-old's molt. It was as if all the carven images of sin and laziness had suddenly become real. Sure, the air was pleasantly warm, but it carried the stench of sulfur. Sure, the ground was pleasantly warm, but he knew that it was not sun's warmth. Instead, it was a heat in the earth itself that extended down and down, like heat from a rotting body. Any deepness dug here would be a death trap, so warm that the sleepers' flesh would rot in their sh.e.l.ls.

Unnerby didn't know how Arla and Brun managed it, but eventually they were on the far side of the forest. Here there were still the crowds and the trees-but the mania of the bottom was muted. The dancing was sedate enough that clothes were not torn. Here, the woodsfairies felt safe enough to land on their jackets, to sit and swing the colored lace of their wings with lazy impudence. Everywhere else in the world, these creatures had lost their wings years ago. Five years ago, Unnerby had walked through Princeton streets after a heavy frost, his boot tips crunching through thousands of colored petals, the wings of sensible woodsfairies, now burrowing deep to lay their tiny eggs. The lazy variant might have a few more summer seasons of life, but they were doomed. . .or should have been.

The three walked higher and higher, up the first slopes of the crater wall. Ahead, the mansions of the Late Waning stretched in a ring of light all the way around the wall. Of course, none of these was more than ten years old, but most were built in the parasol-and-bauble style of the last generation. The buildings were new, but the money and the families were old. Almost every estate was a radial property, extending up the crater wall. The mansions of the early waning, halfway up the wall, were often dark, their open architecture unusable. Unnerby could see the glisten of snow on those higher mansions. Sherkaner's place was up there somewhere, among those rich enough to weatherize the high ground of an estate, but too cheap to rebuild down at the bottom. Sherkaner knew that even Calorica Bay could not escape the Dark of the Sun. . .it took nuclear power to do that.

Between the lights of the bottom forest and the ring of estates, there was shadow. The woodsfairies took off, their wings faintly glistening, to fly back to the bottom. The sulfur smell was faint, not as sharp as the clean chill of the air. Above them, the sky was dark but for the stars and the pale disk of the sun. That was real, the Dark. Unnerby just stared for a moment, trying to ignore the lights of the bottom. He tried to laugh. "So which would you rather have, cobbers, some honest enemy action or another run through that mob?"

Arla Undergate's answer was serious. "I'd opt for the mob, of course. But. . .that was very strange."