[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pressure himself, and felt Brion might refuse.
"I don't see that this talk gets us anywhere," Rustin said. "We're here to
discuss the ecos and what Brion has accomplished."
"So we are," Salap said, eyes languid.
Lenk's face became lax, almost dead-looking. I saw again the features of the
soldier on the prow of the flatboat. In the grip of overwhelming history. Not
all the truth was being told;
perhaps very little.
I had hoped to admire Lenk in some way, for his leadership and presence, as a
force of divaricate society. Instead, he made me uneasy. I felt his power,
could not help but respect his presence, but it seemed only half the man was
Page 191
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
truly with us. The other half was hidden and would never be shown.
"We have no further meetings scheduled." Fassid said. "Brion canceled
tomorrow's meeting with Able Lenk. He's suggested we discuss certain issues
with General Beys -- "
"I will not meet with that man," Lenk said.
"No, we've agreed that Brion is who we must talk with," Keo said with a
regretful sigh. "He is an enigmatic and difficult man, and this Chung woman is
another enigma."
"She escorted you here," Fassid explained. "Caitla Chung, Brion's wife, was
her sister. I
think she's also Brion's mistress, though that's hard to judge -- he could
have so many of them."
Lenk's face underwent a sudden and very brief transformation. In what had,
until now, been flat weariness, I saw pass a shudder of deep anger. In a
blink, the weariness returned.
--------
*21*
I awoke in darkness and did not immediately know where I was or where I had
been. I
remembered being in brightness going down a long hallway, perhaps into another
room. That was a dream. Finally the dreaming had begun.
I did not welcome the returning memory of where I was: still in Brion's
nightmare. I felt strongly that another gate would open soon and I would be
taken to the presiding minister for debriefing. It would be a grim story but
not so grim as the fear I had felt in the dream at the thought of going into
that other room. I rolled over in the bunk and pinched my earlobe until it
hurt, struggling to sharpen my thoughts.
An electric light came on in the darkness.
I sat up. The room seemed even more drab and impersonal than it had the night
before.
Salap, Randall, and I had each been given private quarters near the compound,
away from the palace of stones and the vivarium. There were no windows; it was
little different from a prison cell, but for the furnishings, which were at
least comfortable, though worn.
The electric light on the ceiling sang faintly. Through the door, a woman's
voice said, "Ser Olmy, you are expected." It was Hyssha Chung.
"By whom?"
"Ser Brion and General Beys."
I swung my legs out of the bed. "I'm getting dressed," I said. "What time is
it?"
"Early morning."
Chung regarded me with some interest this time, as I came through the door.
"Your shirt is out in the back," she said. From her, that seemed a statement
of great affection. It almost made her charming.
I tucked my shirt in and followed her out of the building onto a dirt path
between high brick walls. Beyond, the tall, dense thicket began, and we
entered a tunnel through the densely woven growth. The walls of the tunnel
rustled slightly as we passed through, dark intertwined branches moving less
than a centimeter as the great mass of the thicket above our heads made minor
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Legacy.txt (143 of 183) [5/21/03
12:38:22 AM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Legacy.txt adjustments.
"Do these tunnels ever fill in, or grow back?" I asked Chung.
"No," she said.
We met up with Salap and Randall at a juncture of four tunnels. They were
accompanied by two male guards. Each guard wore a holstered pistol. Electric
lights hung from the roofs of the branching tunnels, suspended from dry, hard
vines as thick as a man's leg. Chung took the left-
Page 192
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
swinging branch -- I believed it headed south, but could not be sure -- and we
followed, the guards close behind.
Fifty meters down the tunnel, we came to a bend, and around the bend we saw
daylight. The tunnel ended, and we emerged at the bottom of a bowl-shaped
crater, perhaps a kilometer across. We stood in a gap where the crater wall
had collapsed and the gap had been filled in with thicket.
The air within the crater was warm and still. The thicket above and behind
rustled like waves on a distant beach.
In the center of the crater, a mass of shiny black hemispheres, studded with
spikes and surmounted by arches, resembled a pile of huge, dead spiders. A
path led down the rocky bottom of the crater to the pile. Chung proceeded down
the path, and again we followed. I wondered if she relished the role of silent
guide.
The crater appeared barren. It reminded me of Martha's Island, but here and
there, steam and drifts of sulfurous gas still rose from vents around the
bowl.
"Do you come here often?" Randall asked.
"Too often," Hyssha Chung said.
The path skirted the base of a shiny arch, curved between two black
hemispheres as perfect as blown glass bubbles, and we stood before a small,
low white stone building that had been hidden until now.
"This part we made," Chung said. She opened a double door of thicket-xyla,
cleverly fitted and interwoven, and we entered a cool, dark room that smelled
strongly of cut grass. A radiance of long gaps in the ceiling allowed sun to
draw bright lines on the lava gravel floor.
I looked up from the sunlines to see two men standing in shadow by a table at
the center of the whitewashed block-walled room. We crossed the room, feet
crunching in the lava gravel, dazzled by the brilliant shafts of sun.
This room contained shelves lined with large bottles of liquid, most of them
green or dark brown in color. The smooth concrete floor sloped to a drain at
the center. The floor was covered with green and brown stains, despite its
appearance of having been recently scrubbed. Damp spots and a rivulet of water
darkened the concrete.
The air smelled overpoweringly of vegetation. Three electric lights in the
ceiling came on, and I saw the two men clearly for the first time, in the
center of the room.
A small sinewy man stood to the right of the table, his face thin, pushed-up
nose and high, hollow cheeks giving him an exaggerated boyish appearance,
verging on the simian. He seemed at first glance to be my height, but he stood
a few centimeters shorter. Lank brown hair hung past his ears. His eyes were
large and liquid, dark green, and his skin was sallow. He seemed ready to
smile with any provocation: glad to see us, as if we were friends long absent. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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pressure himself, and felt Brion might refuse.
"I don't see that this talk gets us anywhere," Rustin said. "We're here to
discuss the ecos and what Brion has accomplished."
"So we are," Salap said, eyes languid.
Lenk's face became lax, almost dead-looking. I saw again the features of the
soldier on the prow of the flatboat. In the grip of overwhelming history. Not
all the truth was being told;
perhaps very little.
I had hoped to admire Lenk in some way, for his leadership and presence, as a
force of divaricate society. Instead, he made me uneasy. I felt his power,
could not help but respect his presence, but it seemed only half the man was
Page 191
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
truly with us. The other half was hidden and would never be shown.
"We have no further meetings scheduled." Fassid said. "Brion canceled
tomorrow's meeting with Able Lenk. He's suggested we discuss certain issues
with General Beys -- "
"I will not meet with that man," Lenk said.
"No, we've agreed that Brion is who we must talk with," Keo said with a
regretful sigh. "He is an enigmatic and difficult man, and this Chung woman is
another enigma."
"She escorted you here," Fassid explained. "Caitla Chung, Brion's wife, was
her sister. I
think she's also Brion's mistress, though that's hard to judge -- he could
have so many of them."
Lenk's face underwent a sudden and very brief transformation. In what had,
until now, been flat weariness, I saw pass a shudder of deep anger. In a
blink, the weariness returned.
--------
*21*
I awoke in darkness and did not immediately know where I was or where I had
been. I
remembered being in brightness going down a long hallway, perhaps into another
room. That was a dream. Finally the dreaming had begun.
I did not welcome the returning memory of where I was: still in Brion's
nightmare. I felt strongly that another gate would open soon and I would be
taken to the presiding minister for debriefing. It would be a grim story but
not so grim as the fear I had felt in the dream at the thought of going into
that other room. I rolled over in the bunk and pinched my earlobe until it
hurt, struggling to sharpen my thoughts.
An electric light came on in the darkness.
I sat up. The room seemed even more drab and impersonal than it had the night
before.
Salap, Randall, and I had each been given private quarters near the compound,
away from the palace of stones and the vivarium. There were no windows; it was
little different from a prison cell, but for the furnishings, which were at
least comfortable, though worn.
The electric light on the ceiling sang faintly. Through the door, a woman's
voice said, "Ser Olmy, you are expected." It was Hyssha Chung.
"By whom?"
"Ser Brion and General Beys."
I swung my legs out of the bed. "I'm getting dressed," I said. "What time is
it?"
"Early morning."
Chung regarded me with some interest this time, as I came through the door.
"Your shirt is out in the back," she said. From her, that seemed a statement
of great affection. It almost made her charming.
I tucked my shirt in and followed her out of the building onto a dirt path
between high brick walls. Beyond, the tall, dense thicket began, and we
entered a tunnel through the densely woven growth. The walls of the tunnel
rustled slightly as we passed through, dark intertwined branches moving less
than a centimeter as the great mass of the thicket above our heads made minor
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Legacy.txt (143 of 183) [5/21/03
12:38:22 AM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Legacy.txt adjustments.
"Do these tunnels ever fill in, or grow back?" I asked Chung.
"No," she said.
We met up with Salap and Randall at a juncture of four tunnels. They were
accompanied by two male guards. Each guard wore a holstered pistol. Electric
lights hung from the roofs of the branching tunnels, suspended from dry, hard
vines as thick as a man's leg. Chung took the left-
Page 192
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
swinging branch -- I believed it headed south, but could not be sure -- and we
followed, the guards close behind.
Fifty meters down the tunnel, we came to a bend, and around the bend we saw
daylight. The tunnel ended, and we emerged at the bottom of a bowl-shaped
crater, perhaps a kilometer across. We stood in a gap where the crater wall
had collapsed and the gap had been filled in with thicket.
The air within the crater was warm and still. The thicket above and behind
rustled like waves on a distant beach.
In the center of the crater, a mass of shiny black hemispheres, studded with
spikes and surmounted by arches, resembled a pile of huge, dead spiders. A
path led down the rocky bottom of the crater to the pile. Chung proceeded down
the path, and again we followed. I wondered if she relished the role of silent
guide.
The crater appeared barren. It reminded me of Martha's Island, but here and
there, steam and drifts of sulfurous gas still rose from vents around the
bowl.
"Do you come here often?" Randall asked.
"Too often," Hyssha Chung said.
The path skirted the base of a shiny arch, curved between two black
hemispheres as perfect as blown glass bubbles, and we stood before a small,
low white stone building that had been hidden until now.
"This part we made," Chung said. She opened a double door of thicket-xyla,
cleverly fitted and interwoven, and we entered a cool, dark room that smelled
strongly of cut grass. A radiance of long gaps in the ceiling allowed sun to
draw bright lines on the lava gravel floor.
I looked up from the sunlines to see two men standing in shadow by a table at
the center of the whitewashed block-walled room. We crossed the room, feet
crunching in the lava gravel, dazzled by the brilliant shafts of sun.
This room contained shelves lined with large bottles of liquid, most of them
green or dark brown in color. The smooth concrete floor sloped to a drain at
the center. The floor was covered with green and brown stains, despite its
appearance of having been recently scrubbed. Damp spots and a rivulet of water
darkened the concrete.
The air smelled overpoweringly of vegetation. Three electric lights in the
ceiling came on, and I saw the two men clearly for the first time, in the
center of the room.
A small sinewy man stood to the right of the table, his face thin, pushed-up
nose and high, hollow cheeks giving him an exaggerated boyish appearance,
verging on the simian. He seemed at first glance to be my height, but he stood
a few centimeters shorter. Lank brown hair hung past his ears. His eyes were
large and liquid, dark green, and his skin was sallow. He seemed ready to
smile with any provocation: glad to see us, as if we were friends long absent. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]