Silverberg, Robert - This Is The Road

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Robert Silverberg - This Is The Road

Leaf, lolling cozily with Shadow on a thick heap of furs in the airwagon's

snug passenger castle, heard rain beginning to fall and made a sour face:

very likely he would soon have to get up and take charge of driving the

wagon, if the rain was the sort of rain he thought it was.

This was the ninth day since the Teeth had begun to lay waste to the

eastern provinces. The airwagon, carrying four who were fleeing the

invaders' fierce appetites, was floating along Spider Highway somewhere

between Theptis and Northman's Rib, heading west, heading west as fast as

could be managed. Jumpy little Sting was at the power reins, beaming dream

commands to the team of six nightmares that pulled the wagon along; burly

Crown was amidwagon, probably plotting vengeance against the Teeth, for

that was what Crown did most of the time; that left Leaf and Shadow at

their ease, but not for much longer. Listening to the furious drumming of

the downpour against the wagon's taut-stretched canopy of big-veined

stickskin, Leaf knew that this was no ordinary rain, but rather the dread

purple rain that runs the air foul and brings the no-leg spiders out to

hunt. Sting would never be able to handle the wagon in a purple rain. What

a nuisance, Leaf thought, cuddling close against Shadow's sleek, furry

blue form. Before long he heard the worried snorting of the nightmares and

felt the wagon jolt and buck: yes, beyond any doubt, purple rain, no-leg

spiders. His time of relaxing was just about over.

Not that he objected to doing this fair share of the work. But he had

finished his last shift of driving only half an hour ago. He had earned

his rest. If Sting was incapable of handling the wagon in this weatherand

Shadow too, Shadow could never manage in a purple rainthen Crown ought to

take the reins himself. But of course Crown would do no such thing. It was

Crown's wagon, and he never drove it himself. "I have always had

underbreeds to do the driving for me," Crown had said ten days ago, as

they stood in the grand plaza of Holy Town with the fires of the Teeth

blazing in the outskirts.

"Your underbreeds have all fled without waiting for their master," Leaf

had reminded him.

"So? There are others to drive."

"Am I to be your underbreed?" Leaf asked calmly. "Remember, Crown, I'm of

the Pure Stream stock."

"I can see that by your face, friend. But why get into philosophical

disputes? This is my wagon. The invaders will be here before nightfall. If

you would ride west with me, these are the terms. If they're too bitter

for you to swallow, well, stay here and test your luck against the mercies

of the Teeth."

"I accept your terms," Leaf said.

So he had come aboardand Sting, and Shadowunder the condition that the

three of them would do all the driving. Leaf felt degraded by thathiring

on, in effect, as an indentured underbreedbut what choice was there for

him? He was alone and far from his people; he had lost all his wealth and

property; he faced sure death as the swarming hordes of Teeth devoured the

eastland. He accepted Crown's terms. An aristocrat knows the art of

yielding better than most. Resist humiliation until you can resist no

longer, certainly, but then accept, accept, accept. Refusal to bow to the

inevitable is vulgar and melodramatic. Leaf was of the highest caste, Pure

Stream, schooled from childhood to be pliable, a willow in the wind,

bending freely to the will of the Soul. Pride is a dangerous sin; so is

stubbornness; so too, more than the others, is foolishness. Therefore, he

labored while Crown lolled. Still, there were limits even to Leaf's

capacity for acceptance, and he suspected those limits would be reached

shortly.

On the first night, with only two small rivers between them and the Teeth

and the terrible fires of Holy Town staining the sky, the fugitives halted

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briefly to forage for jellymelons in an abandoned field, and as they

squatted there, gorging on ripe succulent fruit, Leaf said to Crown,

"Where will you go, once you're safe from the Teeth on the far side of the

Middle River?"

"I have distant kinsmen who live in the Flatlands," Crown replied. "I'll

go to them and tell them what has happened to the Dark Lake folk in the

east, and I'll persuade them to take up arms and drive the Teeth back into

the icy wilderness where they belong. An army of liberation, Leaf, and

I'll lead it." Crown's dark face glistened with juice. He wiped at it.

"What are your plans?"

"Not nearly so grand. I'll seek kinsmen too, but not to organize an army.

I wish simply to go to the Inland Sea, to my own people, and live quietly

among them once again. I've been away from home too many years. What

better time to return?" Leaf glanced at Shadow. "And you?" he asked her.

"What do you want out of this journey?"

"I want only to go wherever you go," she said.

Leaf smiled. "You, Sting?"

"To survive," Sting said. "Just to survive."

Mankind had changed the world, and the changed world had worked changes in

mankind. Each day the wagon brought the travelers to some new and strange

folk who claimed descent from the old ancestral stock, though they might

be water-breathers or have skins like tanned leather or grow several pairs

of arms. Human, all of them, human, human, human. Or so they insisted. If

you call yourself human, Leaf thought, then I will call you human too.

Still, there were gradations of humanity. Leaf, as a Pure Stream, thought

of himself as more nearly human than any of the peoples along their route,

more nearly human even than his three companions; indeed, he sometimes

tended to look upon Crown, Sting, and Shadow as very much other than

human, though he did not consider that a fault in them. Whatever dwelled

in the world was without fault, so long as it did no harm to others. Leaf

had been taught to respect every breed of mankind, even the underbreeds.

His companions were certainly no underbreeds: they were solidly midcaste,

all of them, and ranked not far below Leaf himself. Crown, the biggest and

strongest and most violent of them, was of the Dark Lake line. Shadow's

race was Dancing Stars, and she was the most elegant, the most supple of

the group. She was the only female aboard the wagon. Sting, who sprang

from the White Crystal stock, was the quickest of body and spirit,

mercurial, volatile. An odd assortment, Leaf thought. But in extreme times

one takes one's traveling companions as they come. He had no complaints.

He found it possible to get along with all of them, even Crown. Even

Crown.

The wagon came to a jouncing halt. There was the clamor of hooves stamping

the sodden soil; then shrill high-pitched cries from Sting and angry

booming bellowings from Crown; and finally a series of muffled hissing

explosions. Leaf shook his head sadly. "To waste our ammunition on no-leg

spiders"

"Perhaps they're harming the horses," Shadow said. "Crown is rough, but he

isn't stupid."

Tenderly Leaf stroked her smooth haunches. Shadow tried always to be kind.

He had never loved a Dancing Star before, though the sight of them had

long given him pleasure: they were slender beings, bird-boned and

shallow-breasted, and covered from their ankles to their crested skulls by

fine dense fur the color of the twilight sky in winter. Shadow's voice was

musical and her motions were graceful; she was the antithesis of Crown.

Crown now appeared, a hulking figure thrusting bluntly through the

glistening beaded curtains that enclosed the passenger castle. He glared

malevolently at Leaf. Even in his pleasant moments Crown seemed angry, an

effect perhaps caused by his eyes, which were bright red where those of

Leaf and most other kinds of humans were white. Crown's body was a block

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of meat, twice as broad as Leaf and half again as tall, though Leaf did

not come from a small-statured race. Crown's skin was glossy,

greenish-purple in color, much like burnished bronze; he was entirely

without hair and seemed more like a massive statue of an oiled gladiator

than a living being. His arms hung well below his knees; equipped with

extra joints and terminating in hands the size of great baskets, they were

superb instruments of slaughter. Leaf offered him the most agreeable smile

he could find. Crown said, without smiling in return, "You better get back

on the reins, Leaf. The road's turning into one big swamp. The horses are

uneasy. It's a purple rain."

Leaf had grown accustomed, in these nine days, to obeying Crown's brusque

orders. He started to obey now, letting go of Shadow and starting to rise.

But then, abruptly, he arrived at the limits of his acceptance.

"My shift just ended," he said.

Crown stared. "I know that. But Sting can't handle the wagon in this mess.

And I just killed a bunch of mean-looking spiders. There'll be more if we

stay around here much longer."

"So?"

"What are you trying to do, Leaf?"

"I guess I don't feel like going up front again so soon."

"You think Shadow here can hold the reins in this storm?" Crown asked

coldly.

Leaf stiffened. He saw the wrath gathering in Crown's face. The big man

was holding his natural violence in check with an effort; there would be

trouble soon if Leaf remained defiant. This rebelliousness went against

all of Leaf's principles, yet he found himself persisting in it and even

taking a wicked pleasure in it. He chose to risk the confrontation and

discover how firm Crown intended to be. Boldly he said, "You might try

holding the reins yourself, friend."

"Leaf!" Shadow whispered, appalled.

Crown's face became murderous. His dark, shining cheeks puffed and went

taut; his eyes blazed like molten nuggets; his hands closed and opened,

closed and opened, furiously grasping air. "What kind of crazy stuff are

you trying to give? We have a contract, Leaf. Unless you've suddenly

decided that a Pure Stream doesn't need to abide by"

"Spare me the class prejudice, Crown. I'm not pleading Pure Stream as an

excuse to get out of working. I'm tired and I've earned my rest."

Shadow said softly, "Nobody's denying you your rest, Leaf. But Crown's

right that I can't drive in a purple rain. I would if I could. And Sting

can't do it either. That leaves only you."

"And Crown," Leaf said obstinately.

"There's only you," Shadow murmured. It was like her to take no sides, to

serve ever as a mediator. "Go on, Leaf. Before there's real trouble.

Making trouble like this isn't your usual way."

Leaf felt bound to pursue his present course, however perilous. He shook

his head. "You, Crown. You drive."

In a throttled voice Crown said, "You're pushing me too far. We have a

contract."

All Leaf's Pure Stream temperance was gone now. "Contract? I agreed to do

my fair share of the driving, not to let myself be yanked up from my rest

at a time when"

Crown kicked at a low wickerwork stool, splitting it. His rage was boiling

close to the surface. Swollen veins throbbed in his throat. He said, still

controlling himself, "Get out there right now, Leaf, or by the Soul I'll

send you into the All-Is-One!"

"Beautiful, Crown. Kill me, if you feel you have to. Who'll drive your

damned wagon for you then?"

"I'll worry about that then."

Crown started forward, swallowing air, clenching fists.

Shadow sharply nudged Leaf's ribs. "This is going beyond the point of

reason," she told him. He agreed. He had tested Crown and he had his

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answer, which was that Crown was unlikely to back down; now enough was

enough, for Crown was capable of killing. The huge Dark Laker loomed over

him, lifting his tremendous arms as though to bring them crashing against

Leaf's head. Leaf held up his hands, more a gesture of submission than of

self-defense.

"Wait," he said. "Stop it, Crown. I'll drive."

Crown's arms descended anyway. Crown managed to halt the killing blow

midway, losing his balance and lurching heavily against the side of the

wagon. Clumsily he straightened. Slowly he shook his head. In a low,

menacing voice he said, "Don't ever try something like this again, Leaf."

"It's the rain," Shadow said. "The purple rain. Everybody does strange

things in a purple rain."

"Even so," Crown said, dropping onto the pile of furs as Leaf got up. "The

next time, Leaf, there'll be bad trouble. Now go ahead. Get up front."

Nodding to him, Leaf said, "Come up front with me, Shadow."

She did not answer. A look of fear flickered across her face.

Crown said, "The driver drives alone. You know that, Leaf. Are you still

testing me? If you're testing me, say so and I'll know how to deal with

you."

"I just want some company, as long as I have to do an extra shift."

"Shadow stays here."

There was a moment of silence. Shadow was trembling. "All right," Leaf

said finally. "Shadow stays here."

"I'll walk a little way toward the front with you," Shadow said, glancing

timidly at Crown. Crown scowled but said nothing. Leaf stepped out of the

passenger castle; Shadow followed. Outside, in the narrow passageway

leading to the midcabin, Leaf halted, shaken, shaking, and seized her. She

pressed her slight body against him and they embraced, roughly, intensely.

When he released her she said, "Why did you try to cross him like that? It

was such a strange thing for you to do, Leaf."

"I just didn't feel like taking the reins again so soon."

"I know that."

"I want to be with you."

"You'll be with me a little later," she said. "It didn't make sense for

you to talk back to Crown. There wasn't any choice. You had to drive."

"Why?"

"You know. Sting couldn't do it. I couldn't do it."

"And Crown?"

She looked at him oddly. "Crown? How would Crown have taken the reins?"

From the passenger castle came Crown's angry growl: "You going to stand

there all day, Leaf? Go on! Get in here, Shadow!"

"I'm coming," she called.

Leaf held her a moment. "Why not? Why couldn't he have driven? He may be

proud, but not so proud that"

"Ask me another time," Shadow said, pushing him away. "Go. Go. You have to

drive. If we don't move along we'll have the spiders upon us."

On the third day westward they had arrived at a village of Shapechangers.

Much of the countryside through which they had been passing was deserted,

although the Teeth had not yet visited it, but these Shapechangers went

about their usual routines as if nothing had happened in the neighboring

provinces. These were angular, long-legged people, sallow of skin, nearly

green in hue, who were classed generally somewhere below the midcastes,

but above the underbreeds. Their gift was metamorphosis, a slow softening

of the bones under voluntary control that could, in the course of a week,

drastically alter the form of their bodies, but Leaf saw them doing none

of that, except for a few children who seemed midway through strange

transformations, one with ropy, seemingly boneless arms, one with

grotesquely distended shoulders, one with stiltlike legs. The adults came

close to the wagon, admiring its beauty with soft cooing sounds, and Crown

went out to talk with them. "I'm on my way to raise an army," he said.

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Silverberg, Robert - This Is The Road

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