Deathworld Vol2 Part 9

"I'll tell you," Snarbi bragged as they started the march. "He is Her-. tug of the Perssonoj. I have fought for the Perssonoj and they knew me, and I saw the Hertug himself and he believed me. The Perssonoj are very powerful in Appsala and have many powerful secrets, but they are not as powerful as the Trozelligoj, who have the secret of the caroj and the jetilo. I knew I could ask any price of the Perssonoj if I brought them the secret of the caroj. And I will." He thrust his face close to Jason's with a fierce grimace. "You will tell them the secret. I will help them torture you until you tell."

Jason put out his toe as they walked and Snarbi tripped over it, and when the traitor fell he walked the length of his body. None of the soldiers paid any attention to this incident. When they had pa.s.sed Snarbi staggered to his feet and tottered after them, shouting curses. Jason hardly heard them, for he had troubles enough as it was.

11 Seen from the surrounding hills, Appsala looked like a burning city that was being slowly washed into the sea. Only when they had come closer was it clear that the smoke was from the multifold chimneys, both large and small, that studded the buildings, and that the city began at the sh.o.r.e and covered a number of islands in what must be a shallow lagoon. Large seagoing ships were tied up at the seaward side of the city, and closer to the mainland smaller craft were being poled through the ca.n.a.ls. Jason searched anxiously for a s.p.a.ceport or any signs of interstellar culture, but saw nothing. Then the hills intervened as the trail cut off to one side and approached the sea some distance from the city. A fair-sized sailing vessel was tied up at the end of a stone wharf, obviously awaiting them, and the captives were tied hand and foot and tossed into the hold. Jason managed to wriggle around until he could get his eye to a crack between two badly fitting planks, and he gave a running travelog of the short cruise, apparently for the edification of his companions, but really for his own benefit, since the sound of his own voice always cheered him and gave him courage.

"Our voyage is nearing its close, and before us opens up the romantic and ancient city of Appsala, famed for its loathsome customs, murderous natives, and archaic sanitation facilities, of which the watery channel this ship is now entering seems to be the major cloaca. There are islands on both sides, the smaller ones covered with hovels so decrepit that in comparison the holes in the grounds of the humblest animals are as palaces, while the larger islands seem to be forts, each one walled and barbicaned, and presenting a warlike face to the world. There couldn't be that many forts in a town this size, so I am led to believe that each one is undoubtedly the guarded stronghold of one of the tribes, groups, or clans that our friend Judas told us about. Look on these monuments to ultimate selfishness and beware: this is the end product of the system that begins with slaveholders like the former Ch'aka with their tribes of kreno crackers, and builds up through familial hierarchies like the d'zertanoj, and reaches its zenith of depravity behind those strong walls. It is still absolute power that rules absolutely, each man out for all that he can get, the only way to climb being over the bodies of others, and all physical discoveries and inventions being treated as private and personal secrets to be hidden and used only for personal gain. Never have I seen human greed and selfishness carried to such extremes, and I admire h.o.m.o sapiens'

capacity to follow through on an idea, no matter how it hurts."

The ship lost way as it backed its sails, and Jason fell from his precarious perch into the stinking bilge. "The descent of man," he muttered, and inched his way out. - Piles grated along the sides, and with much shouting and cursed orders the ship came to a halt. The hatch above was slid back and the three captives were rushed to the deck. The ship was tied up to a dock in a pool of water surrounded by buildings and high walls. Behind them a large sea gate was just swinging shut, through which the ship had entered from the ca.n.a.l. They could see no more because they were pushed into a doorway and through halls and past guards until they ended up in a large central room. It was unfurnished except for the dais at the far end on which stood a large rusty iron throne. The man on the throne, undoubtedly the Hertug Persson, sported a magnificent white beard and shoulder-length hair; his nose was round and red, his eyes blue and watery. He nibbled at a kreno impaled delicately on a two-timed iron fork.

"Tell me," the Hertug shouted suddenly, "why you should not be killed at once?"

"We are your slaves, Hertug, we are your slaves," everyone in the room shouted in unison, at the same time waving their hands in the air. Jason missed the first chorus, but came in on the second. Only Mikah did not join in the chant- and-wave, speaking instead in a solitary voice after the pledge of allegiance was completed.

"I am no man's slave."

The commander of the soldiers swung his thick bow in a short arc that terminated on the top of Mikah's head: he dropped stunned to the floor.

"You have a new slave, oh Hertug," the commander said.

"Which is the one who knows the secrets of the caroj?" the Hertug asked, and Snarbi pointed at Jason.

"Him there, oh Mightiness. He can make caroj and he can make the monster that burns and moves them. I know because I watched him do it. He also made b.a.l.l.s of fire that burned the d'zertanoj, and many other things. I brought him to be your slave so that he could make caroj for the Perssonoj. Here are the pieces of the caro we traveled in, that were left after it was consumed by its own fire." Snarbi shook the tools and burnt fragments out onto the floor, and the Hertug curled his lip at them.

"What proof is this?" he asked, and turned to Jason. "These things mean nothing. How can you prove to me, slave, that you can do the things he says?"

Jason entertained briefly the idea of denying all knowledge of the matter, which would be a neat revenge against Snarbi, who would certainly meet a sticky end for causing all this trouble for nothing, but he -discarded the thought as quickly as it had come. Partly for humanitarian reasons, for Snarbi could not help being what he was, but mostly because Jason had no particular desire to be put to the torture. He knew nothing about the local torture methods, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Proof is easy, Hertug of all the Perssonoj, because I know everything about everything. I can build machines that walk, that talk, that run, fly, swim, bark like a dog, and roll on their backs."

"You will build a caro for me?"

"It could be arranged, if you have the right kind of tools for me to use. But I must first know what is the specialty of your clan, if you know what I mean. For instance, the Trozelligoj make motors, and the d'zertanoj pump oil: what do your people do?"

"You cannot know as much as you say if you do not know of the glories of the Perssonoj!"

"I come from a distant land and, as you know, news travels slowly around these parts."

"Not around the Perssonoj," the Hertug said scornfully, and he thumped his chest. 'We can talk across the width of the country, and always know where our enemies are. We can send magic to make light in a gla.s.s ball, or magic that will pluck the sword from an enemy's hand and drive terror into his heart."

"It sounds as if your gang has the monopoly on electricity, which is good to hear. If you have some heavy forging equipment-"

"Stop!" the Hertug interrupted. "Leave! Out-everyone except the sciulo-j.

Not the new slave, he stays here," he shouted when the soldiers seized Jason.

When the others had left, only a handful of men remained who were all a little long in the tooth. Each wore a brazen, sunburst-type decoration on his chest. They were undoubtedly adept in the secret electrical arts, and they fingered their weapons and grumbled with unconcealed anger at Jason's forbidden knowledge.

The Hertug spoke to him again. "You used a sacred word. Who told it to you? Speak quickly, or you will be killed."

"Didn't I tell you I knew everything? I can build a caro and, given a little time, I can improve on your electrical works, if your technology is on the same level as the rest of this planet."

"Do you know what lies behind the forbidden portal?" the Hertug asked, pointing to a barred, locked, and guarded door at the other end of the room.

"There is no way you can have seen what is there, but if you can tell me what lies beyond it I will know you are the wizard that you claim you are."

"I have a very strange feeling that I have been over this ground once before." Jason sighed. "All right, here goes. You people here make electricity, maybe chemically, though I doubt if you would get enough power that way, so you must have a generator of some sort. That will be a big magnet, a piece of special iron that can pick up other iron, and you spin wire around fast next to it, and out comes electricity. You pipe this through copper wire to whatever devices you have-and they can't be very many. You say you talk across the country. I'll bet you don't talk at all, but send little clicks-I'm right, am I not?" The foot shuffling and the rising buzz from the adepts were sure signs that he was. .h.i.tting close.

"I have an idea for you: I think I'll invent the telephone. Instead of the old clickety-clack, how would you like to really talk across the country? Speak into a gadget here, and have your voice come out at the far end of the wire?"

The Hertug's piggy little eyes blinked greedily. "It is said that in the old days this could be done, but we have tried and have failed. Can you do this thing?"

"I can-if we can come to an agreement first. But before I make any promises I have to see your equipment."

This brought mutters of complaint about secrecy, but in the end avarice won over taboo and the door to the holy of holies was opened for Jason while two of the sciuloj, with bared daggers ready, stood at his sides. The Hertug led the way, followed by Jason and his septuagenarian bodyguard, with the rest of the sciuloj tottering after. Each of them bowed and mumbled a prayer as he crossed the sacred threshold, while it was all Jason could do to keep himself from breaking into contemptuous laughter.

A rotating shaft-undoubtedly slave-powered-entered the large chamber through the far wall and turned a ramshackle collection of belts and pulleys that eventually hooked up to a crude and ugly machine that rattled and squeaked and shook the floor under their feet. At first sight it baffled Jason, until he examined its components and realized what it was.

"What else should I have expected?" he said to himself. "If there are two ways of doing anything, leave it to these people to use the worst one."

The final, cartwheel-sized pulley was fixed to a wooden shaft that rotated at an impressive speed, except when one of the belts jumped out of place, which was something that occurred with monotonous regularity. This happened while Jason was watching, and the shaft instantly slowed so that he could see that iron rings studded with smaller, U-shaped pieces of iron, were fixed all along its length. These were half hidden inside a birdcage of looped wires that was suspended about the shaft. The whole thing looked like an ill.u.s.tration from a bronze age edition of First Steps in Electricity.

"Does not your soul cringe in awe before these wonders?" the Hertug asked, noticing Jason's dropped jaw and gla.s.sy eye.

"It cringes all right," Jason told him. "But only in pain from that ill- conceived collection of mechanical misconceptions."

"Blasphemer!" the Hertug shrieked. "Slay him!"

"Wait a minute!" Jason said, holding tight to the dagger arms of the two nearest sciuloj and interposing their bodies between his body and the others'

blades. "Don't misunderstand. That's a great generator you have there, a seventh wonder of the world-though most of the wonder is how it manages to produce any electricity. A tremendous invention, years ahead of its time. However, I might be able to suggest a few minor modifications that would produce more electricity with less work. I suppose that you are aware that an electric current is generated in a wire when a magnetic field is moved across it?"

"I do not intend to discuss theology with a non-believer," the Hertug said coldly.

"Theology or science, call it what you will, the answers still come out the same." Jason twisted a bit with his Pyrran-hardened muscles and the two old men squealed and dropped their daggers to the floor. The rest of the sciuloj seemed reluctant to press the attack. "But did you ever stop to think that you could get an electrical current just as easily by moving the wire through the magnetic field, instead of the other way around? You can get the same current flow that way with about a tenth of the work."

"We have always done it this way, and what was good enough for our ancestors-"

"I know, I know, don't finish the quote. I seem to have heard it before on this planet." The armed sciuloj began to close in on him again, their daggers ready. "Look, Hertug-do you want me slain or not? Let your boys know."

"Slay him not," the Hertug said after a moment's thought. "What he says may be true. He may be able to a.s.sist us in the operation of our holy machines."

With the threat removed for the moment, Jason examined the large, ungainly apparatus that filled the far end of the room, this time making some attempt to control his horrified reactions. "I suppose that yon sacred wonder is your holy telegraph?"

"None other," the Hertug said reverently. Jason shuddered.

Copper wires came down from the ceiling above and terminated in a clumsily wound electromagnet positioned close to the flat iron shaft of a pendulum. When a current surged through the electromagnet it would attract the shaft; and when the current was turned off, the weight on the end of the pendulum would drag it back to somewhere near the vertical. A sharp metal scriber was fixed to the bottom of the weight, and the point of the scriber was dug into the wax coating of a long strip of copper. This strip ran in grooves so that it moved at right angles to the pendulum's swing, dragged forward by a weight- powered system of meshed wooden gears.

While Jason watched, the rattling mechanism jerked into motion. The electromagnet buzzed, the pendulum jerked, the needle drew an incision across the wax, the gears squeaked, and the cord fastened to a hole in the end of the strip began to draw it forwards. Attentive sciuloj stood ready to put another wax- coated strip into position when the first one was finished.

Close by, completed message strips were being made legible by pouring red liquid over them. This ran off the waxen surface but was trapped by the needle-scratched grooves. A shaky red line appeared running the length of the strips, with V-shaped extensions wherever the scribing needle had been deflected. These were carried to a long table where the coded information was copied off onto slates. Everything considered, it was a slow, clumsy, inept method of transmitting information. Jason rubbed his hands together.

"Oh, Hertug of all the Perssonoj," he intoned, "I have looked on your holy wonders and stand in awe, indeed I do. Far be it for a mere mortal to improve on the works of the G.o.ds, at least not right now, but it is within my power to pa.s.s on to you certain other secrets of electricity that the G.o.ds have imparted to me."

"Such as what?" the Hertug asked, eyes slitted.

"Such as the-let's see, what is the Esperanto word for it-such as the ak.u.mulatoro. Do you know of this?"

"The word is mentioned in some of the older holy writings, but that is all we know of it." The Hertug was licking his lips now.

"Then get ready to add a new chapter, because I'm going to provide you with a Leyden jar, free and gratis, along with complete instructions on how to make more. This is a way of putting electricity in a bottle, just as if it were water.

Then later we can go on to more sophisticated batteries."

"If you can do this thing you shall be suitably rewarded. Fail, and you will be. . ."

"No threats, Hertug; we've gone far beyond that stage. And no rewards either. I told you this was a free sample with no strings attached- perhaps just a few physical comforts for me while I'm working: the fetters struck off, a supply of krenoj and water, and such like. Then, if you like what I've done and want more, we can make a deal. Agreed?"

"I will consider your requests," the Hertug said.

"A simple yes or no will do. What can you possibly lose in an arrangement like this?"

"Your companions will be held prisoners to be slain instantly if you transgress."

"A fine idea. And if you want to get some work out oF the one called Mikah-like hard labor, for instance-that is perfectly agreeable. I'll need some special materials that I don't see here. A wide-mouthed gla.s.s jar and a good supply of tin."

"Tin? I know it not."

"Yes, you do. It's the white metal you mix with copper to make your bronze."

"Stano. We have a goodly supply."

"Have them bring it around and I'll get to work."

In theory, a Leyden jar is simple enough to manufacture-if all the materials are on hand. Getting the correct materials was Jason's biggest problem.

The Perssonoj did no gla.s.s blowing themselves, but bought everything they needed from the Vitristoj clan, who labored at their secret furnaces. These gla.s.s blowers produced a few stock-size bottles, b.u.t.tons, drinking gla.s.ses, k.n.o.bby plate gla.s.s, and half a dozen other items. None of their bottles could be adapted to this use, and they were horrified at Jason's suggestion that they produce a new bottle to his specifications. The offer of hard cash drained away most of their dismay, and after studying Jason's clay model they reluctantly agreed to produce a similar bottle for a staggering sum. The Hertug grumbled mightily, but finally he paid over the required number of stamped and punctured gold coins strung on a wire.

"Your death will be horrible," he told Jason, "if your ak.u.mulatoro fails."

"Have faith, and all will be well," Jason rea.s.sured him, and he returned to browbeating the metal workers, who suffered as they tried to hammer sheet tin into thin foil.

Jason had seen neither Mikah nor Ijale since they had all been dragged into the Perssonoj stronghold, but he did not worry about them. Ijale was well adapted to the slave life, so she would get into no trouble while he was selling the Hertug on the wonders of his electrical knowledge. Mikah, however, was not used to being a slave, and Jason cherished the hope that this would lead to bad trouble, resulting in physical contusions. After the last fiasco, his reservoir of good will for the man had drained dry.

"It has arrived," the Hertug announced, and he and all the sciuloj stood around mumbling suspiciously while the wrappings were removed from the gla.s.s jar.

"Not too bad," Jason said, holding it up to the light to see how thick the sides were. "Except that this is the large twenty-liter economy size- about four times as big as the model I sent them."

"For a large price a large jar," the Hertug said. "That is only right. Why do you complain? Do you fear failure?"

"I fear nothing. It's just a lot more trouble to build a model this size. It can also be dangerous; these Leyden jars can take quite a charge."

Ignoring the onlookers, Jason coated the jar inside and out with his lumpy tinfoil, stopping about two-thirds of the way up from the bottom. He then whittled a plug from guini, a rubber-like material that had good insulating qualities, and drilled a hole through it. The Perssonoj watched, mystified, as he pushed an iron rod through this hole, then attached a short iron chain to the longer end, and fixed a round iron ball to the shorter.

"Finished," he announced.

"But-what does it do?" the Hertug asked, puzzled.

"I demonstrate." Jason pushed the plug into the wide mouth of the jar so that the chain rested on the inner lining of tinfoil. He pointed to the ball that projected from the top. "This is attached to the negative pole of your generator; electricity flows down through the rod and chain and is collected on the tin lining.

We run the generator until the jar is full, then disconnect the input. The jar will then hold an electrical charge that we can draw off by hooking up to the ball.

Understand?"

"Madness!" one of the older sciuloj cackled, and averted the infection of insanity by rotating his forefinger next to his temple.

"Wait and see," Jason said, with a calmness he did not feel. He had built the Leyden jar from a dim memory of a textbook ill.u.s.tration studied in his youth, and there was no guarantee the thing would work. He grounded the positive pole of the generator, then did the same with the outer coating of the jar by running a wire from it to a spike driven down through a cracked floor tile into the damp soil below.

"Let her roll!" he shouted and stepped back, arms folded.

The generator groaned and rotated, but nothing visible happened. He let it go on for several minutes, since he had no idea of its output or of the jar's capacity, and a lot depended on the results of this first experiment. Finally the sneering asides of the sciuloj grew louder, so he stepped forward and disconnected the jar with a flip of a dry stick.

"Stop the generator; the work is done. The ak.u.mulatoro is filled brimful with the holy force of electricity." He pulled over the demonstration unit he had prepared, a row of the crude incandescent light bulbs wired in series. There ought to be enough of a charge in the Leyden jar to overcome the weak resistance of the carbon filaments and light them up. He hoped.

"Blasphemy!" screeched the same elderly sciulo, shuffling forward. "It is sacred writ that the holy force can only flow when the road is complete, and when the road of flow is broken no force shall move. Yet this outlander dares tell us that holiness now resides in this jar to which but one wire was connected. Lies and blasphemy!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. . ." Jason suggested to the oldster, who was now pointing to the ball on top of the Leyden jar.

"There is no force here-there can be no force here. . . ." His voice broke off suddenly as he waved his finger an inch from the ball. A fat blue spark snapped between his fingertip and the charged metal, and the sciulo screamed hoa.r.s.ely and dropped to the floor. One of his fellows knelt to examine him, then turned his frightened gaze to the jar.

"He is dead," he breathed.

"You can't say I didn't warn him," Jason said, then decided to press hard while luck was on his side. "It was he who blasphemed!" Jason shouted, and the old men cringed away. "The holy force was stored in the jar, and he doubted and the force struck him dead. Doubt no more, or you will all meet the same fate! Our work as sciuloj," he added, giving himself a promotion from slavery, "is to harness the powers of electricity for the greater glory of the Hertug. Let this be a reminder, lest we ever forget." They eyed the body, shuffled backwards, and got the idea very clearly.

"The holy force can kill," the Hertug said, smiling down at the corpse and dry-washing his hands. "This is indeed wonderful news. I always knew it could give shocks and cause burns, but never knew it held this great power. Our enemies will shrink before us."

"Without a doubt," Jason said, striking while the iron was hot, and whipping out the drawings he had carefully prepared. "Take a look at these other wonders. An electrical motor to lift and pull things, a light called the carbon arc that can pierce the night, a way of coating things with a thin layer of metal, and many more. You can have them all, Hertug."

"Begin construction at once!"

"Instantly-as soon as we agree on the terms of my contract."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"You'll like it even less when you hear the details, but it will be well worth it." He bent forward and whispered in the Hertug's ear. "How would you like a machine that could blow down the walls of your enemies' fortresses so that you could defeat them and capture their secrets?"

"Clear the room," the Hertug commanded, and when they were alone he turned his shrewd little red eyes on Jason. "What is this contract you mentioned?"