Poul Anderson - Sky People

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2024-12-20 0 0 150.07KB 22 页 5.9玖币
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The Sky People by Poul Anderson The Rover Fleet got there just before
sunrise. From its height, five thousand feet, the land was bluish gray, smoked
with mists. Irrigation canals caught the first light as if they were full of
mercury. Westward the ocean gleamed, its far edge dissolved into purple and a
few stars. Loklann sunna Holber leaned over the gallery rail of his
flagship and pointed a telescope at the city. It sprang to view as a huddle of
walls, flat roofs, and square watchtowers. The cathedral spires were tinted
rose by a hidden sun. No barrage balloons were up. It must be true what rumor
said, that the Perio had abandoned its outlying provinces to their fate. So
the portable wealth of Meyco would have flowed into S' Anton, for
safekeeping-which meant that the place was well worth a raid. Loklann
grinned. Robra sunna Stam, the Buffalo's mate, spoke. "Best we come down
to about two thousand," he suggested. "Just to be sure the men aren't blown
sideways, to the wrong side of the town walls." "Aye." The skipper nodded
his helmeted head. "Two thousand, so be it." Their voices seemed oddly
loud up here, where only the wind and a creak of rigging had broken silence.
The sky around the royers was dusky immensity, tinged red gold in the east.
Dew lay on the gallery deck. But when the long wooden horns blew signals, it
was somehow not an interruption, nor was the distant shouting of orders from
other vessels, thud of crew fleet, clatter of windlasses and hand-operated
compressor pumps. To a Sky Man, those sounds belonged in the upper air.
Five great craft spiraled smoothly downward. The first sunrays flashed off
gilt figureheads, bold on sharp gondola prows, and rioted along the
extravagant designs painted on gas bags. Sails and rudders were unbelievably
white across the last western darkness. "Hullo, there," said Loklann. He
had been studying the harbor through his telescope. "Something new. What could
it be?" He offered the tube to Robra, who held it to his remaining eye.
Within the glass circle lay a stone dock and warehouses, centuries old, from
the days of the Perio's greatness. Less than a fourth of their capacity was
used now. The normal clutter of wretched little fishing craft, a single
coasting schooner. . . and yes, by Oktai the Stormbringer, a monster thing,
bigger than a whale, seven masts that were impossibly tall! "I don't
know." The mate lowered the telescope. "A foreigner? But where from? Not in
all this continent-" "I never saw any arrangement like that," said
Loklann. "Square sails on the topmasts, fore-and-aft below." He stroked his
short beard. It burned like spun copper in the morning light; he was one of
the fairhaired blue-eyed men, rare even among the Sky People and unheard of
elsewhere. "Of course," he said, "we're no experts on water craft. We only see
them in passing." A not unamiable contempt rode his words: sailors made good
slaves, at least, but naturally the only fit vehicle for a fighting man was a
rover abroad and a horse at home. "Probably a trader," he decided. "We'll
capture it if possible." He turned his attention to more urgent problems.
He had no map of 5' Anton, had never even seen it before. This was the
farthest south any Sky People had yet gone plundering, and almost as far as
any had ever visited-in bygone days aircraft were still too primitive and the
Perio too strong. Thus Loklann must scan the city from far above, through
drifting white vapors, and make his plan on the spot. Nor could it be very
complicated, for he had only signal flags and a barrel-chested hollerer with a
megaphone to pass orders to the other vessels. "That big plaza in front
of the temple," he murmured. "Our contingent will land there. Let the
Stormcloud men tackle that big building east of it. . . see. . . it looks like
a chief's dwelling. Over there, along the north wall, typical barracks and
parade ground-Coyote can deal with the soldiers. Let the Witch of Heaven men
land on the docks, seize the seaward gun emplacements and that strange vessel,
then join the attack on the garrison. Fire Elk's crew should land inside the
east city gate and send a detachment to the south gate, to bottle in the
civilian population. Having occupied the plaza, I'll send reinforcements
wherever they're needed. All clear?" He snapped down his goggles. Some of
the big men crowding about him wore chain armor, but he preferred a cuirass of
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harden leather, Mong style; it was nearly as strong and a lot lighter. He was
armed with a pistol, but had more faith in his battle ax. An archer could
shoot almost as fast as a gun, as accurately-and firearms were getting
fabulously expensive to operate as sulfur sources dwindled. He felt a
tightness which was like being a little boy again, opening presents on
Midwinter Morning. Oktai knew what treasures he would find, of gold, cloth,
tools, slaves, of battle and high deeds and eternal fame. Possibly death.
Someday he was sure to die in combat: he had sacrificed so much to his josses,
they wouldn't grudge him war-death and a chance to be reborn as a Sky Man.
"Let's go!" he said. He sprang up on a gallery rail and over. For a
moment the world pinwheeled, now the city was on top and now again his Buffalo
streaked past. Then he pulled the ripcord and his harness slammed him to
steadiness. Around him it bloomed with scarlet parachutes. He gauged the wind
and tugged a line, guiding himself down. Don Miwel Carabán, calde of S'
AntOn d' Inio, arranged a lavish feast for his Maurai guests. It was not only
that this was a historic occasion, which might even mark a turning point in
the long decline. (Don Miwel, being that rare combination, a practical man who
could read, knew that the withdrawal of Perio troops to Brasil twenty years
ago was not a "temporary adjustment." They would never come back. The outer
provinces were on their own.) But the strangers must be convinced that they
had found a nation rich, strong, and basically civilized: that it was
worthwhile visiting the Meycan coasts to trade, ultimately to make alliance
against the northern savages. The banquet lasted till nearly midnight.
Though some of the old irrigation canals had choked up and never been
repaired, so that cactus and rattlesnake housed in abandoned pueblos, Meyco
Province was still fertile. The slant-eyed Mong horsemen from Tekkas had
killed off innumerable peons when they raided five years back; wooden
pitchforks and obsidian hoes were small use against saber and arrow. It would
be another decade before population was back to normal and the periodic
famines resumed. Thus Don Miwel offered many courses, beef, spiced ham,
olives, fruits, wines, nuts, coffee, which last the Sea People were unfamiliar
with and didn't much care for, et cetera. Entertainment followed-music,
jugglers, a fencing exhibition by some of the young nobles. At this point
the surgeon of the Dolphin, who was rather drunk, offered to show an Island
dance. Muscular beneath tattoos, his brown form went through a series of
contortions which pursed the lips of the dignified Dons. Miwel himself
remarked, "It reminds me somewhat of our peons' fertility rites," with a
strained courtesy that suggested to Captain Ruori Rangi Lohannaso that peons
had an altogether different and not very nice culture. The surgeon threw
back his queue and grinned. "Now let's bring the ship's wahines ashore to give
them a real hula," he said in Maurai-Ingliss. "No," answered Ruori. "I
feaf we may have shocked them already. The proverb goes, 'When in the Solmon
Islands, darken your skin.'" "I don't think they know how to have any
fun," complained the doctor. "We don't yet know what the taboos are,"
warned Ruori. "Let us be as grave, then, as these spike-bearded men, and not
laugh or make love until we are back on shipboard among our wahines."
"But it's stupid! Shark-toothed Nan eat me if I'm going to-" "Your
ancestors are ashamed," said Ruori. It was about as sharp a rebuke as you
could give a man whom you didn't intend to fight. He softened his tone to take
out the worst sting, but the doctor had to shut up. Which he did, mumbling an
apology and retiring with his blushes to a dark corner beneath faded murals.
Ruori turned back to his host. "I beg your pardon, S'flor," he said, using
the local tongue. "My men's command of Spaflol is even less than my own."
"Of course." Don Miwel's lean black-cald form made a stiff little bow. It
brought his sword up, ludicrously like a tail. Ruori heard a smothered snort
of laughter from one of his officers. And yet, thought the captain, were long
trousers and ruffled shirt any worse than sarong, sandals, and clan tattoos?
Different customs, no more. You had to sail the Maurai Federation, from Awaii
to his own N'Zealann and west to Mlaya, before you appreciated how big this
planet was and how much of it a mystery. "You speak our language most
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excellently, S'ñor," said Doflita Tresa Carabán. She smiled. "Perhaps better
than we, since you studied texts centuries old before embarking, and the
Spaflol has changed greatly since." Ruori smiled back. Don Miwel's
daughter was worth it. The rich black dress caressed a figure as good as any
in the world; and, while the Sea People paid less attention to a woman's face,
he saw that hers was proud and well-formed, her father's eagle beak softened
to a curve, luminous eyes and hair the color of midnight oceans. It was too
bad these Meycans-the nobles, at least- thought a girl should be reserved
solely for the husband they eventually picked for her. He would have liked her
to swap her pearls and silver for a lei and go out in a ship's canoe, just the
two of them, to watch the sunrise and make love. However- "In such
company," he murmured, "I am stimulated to learn the modern language as fast
as possible." She refrained from coquetting with her fan, a local habit
the Sea People found alternately hilarious and irritating. But her lashes
fluttered. They were very long, and her eyes, he saw, were goldflecked green.
"You are learning cab'llero manners just as fast, S'nor," she said. "Do
not call our language 'modem', I pray you," interrupted a scholarly looking
man in a long robe. Ruori recognized Bispo Don Carlos Ermosillo, a high priest
of that Esu Canto who seemed cognate with the Maurai Lesu Haristi. "Not
modern, but corrupt. I too have studied old books, printed before the War of
Judgment. Our ancestors spoke the true Spaflol. Our version of it is as
distorted as our present-day society." He sighed. "But what can one expect,
when even among the well-born, not one in ten can write his own name?"
"There was more literacy in the high days of the Perio," said Don Miwel. "You
should have visited us a hundred years ago, S'nor Captain, and seen what our
race was capable of." "Yet what was the Perio itself but a successor
state?" asked the Bispo bitterly. "It unified a large area, gave law and order
for a while, but what did it create that was new? Its course was the same
sorry tale as a thousand kingdoms before, and therefore the same judgment has
fallen on it." Doflita Tresa crossed herself. Even Ruori, who held a
degree in engineering as well as navigation, was shocked. "Not atomics?" he
exclaimed. "What? Oh. The old weapons, which destroyed the old world. No,
of course not." Don Carlos shook his head. "But in our more limited way, we
have been as stupid and sinful as the legendary forefathers, and the results
have been parallel. You may call it human greed or el Dio's punishment as you
will; I think the two mean much the same thing." Ruori looked closely at
the priest. "I should like to speak with you further, S'nor," he said, hoping
it was the right title. "Men who know history, rather than myth, are rare
these days." "By all means," said Don Carlos. "I should be honored."
Doñita Tresa shifted on light, impatient feet. "It is customary to dance," she
said. Her father laughed. "Ah, yes. The young ladies have been getting
very impatient, I am sure. Time enough to resume formal discussions tomorrow,
S'flor Captain. Now let the music begin!" He signalled. The orchestra
struck up. Some instruments were quite like those of the Maurai, others wholly
unfamiliar. The scale itself was different. . . they had something like it in
Stralia, but- A hand fell on Ruori's arm. He looked down at Tresa. "Since you
do not ask me to dance," she said, "may I be so immodest as to ask you?"
"What does 'immodest' mean?" he inquired. She blushed and tried to
explain, without success. Ruori decided it was another local concept which the
Sea People lacked. By that time the Meycan girls and their cavaliers were out
on the ballroom floor. He studied them for a moment. "The motions are unknown
to me," he said, "but I think I could soon learn." She slipped into his
arms. It was a pleasant contact, even though nothing would come of it. "You do
very well," she said after a minute. "Are all your folk so graceful?"
Only later did he realize it was a compliment for which he should have thanked
her; being an Islander, he took it at face value as a question and replied,
"Most of us spend a great deal of time on the water. A sense of balance and
rhythm must be developed or one is likely to fall into the sea." She
wrinkled her nose. "Oh stop," she laughed. "You're as solemn as S' Osé in the
cathedral." Ruori grinned back. He was a tall young man, brown as all his
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race but with the gray eyes which many bore in memory of Ingliss ancestors.
Being a N'Zealanner, he was not tattooed as lavishly as some Federation men.
On the other hand, he had woven a whalebone filigree into his queue, his
sarong was the finest batik, and he had added thereto a fringed shirt. His
knife, without which a Maurai felt obscenely helpless, was in contrast: old,
shabby until you saw the blade, a tool. "I must see this god 5' Osd," he
said. "Will you show me? Or no, I would not have eyes for a mere statue."
"How long will you stay?" she asked. "As long as we can. We are supposed
to explore the whole Meycan coast. Hitherto the only Maurai contact with the
Menken continent has been one voyage from Awaii to Calforni. They found desert
and a few savages. We have heard from Okkaidan traders that there are forests
still further north, where yellow and white men strive against each other. But
what lies south of Calforni was unknown to us until this expedition was sent
out. Perhaps you can tell us what to expect in Su-Merika." "Little enough
by now," she sighed, "even in Brasil." "Ah, but lovely roses bloom, in
Meyco." Her humor returned. "And flattering words in N'Zealann," she
chuckled. "Far from it. We are notoriously straightforward. Except, of
course, when yarning about voyages we have made." "What yarns will you
tell about this one?" "Not many, lest all the young men of the Federation
come crowding here. But I will take you aboard my ship, Doñita, and show you
to the compass. Thereafter it will always point toward 5' AntOn d' Inio. You
will be, so to speak, my compass rose." Somewhat to his surprise, she
understood, and laughed. She led him across the floor, supple between his
hands. Thereafter, as the night wore on, they danced together as much as
decency allowed, or a bit more, and various foolishness which concerned no one
else passed between them. Toward sunrise the orchestra was dismissed and the
guests, hiding yawns behind well-bred hands, began to take their departure.
"How dreary to stand and receive farewells," whispered Tresa. "Let them think
I went to bed already." She took Ruori's hand and slipped behind a column and
so out on to abalcony. An old serving woman, stationed to act as duenna for
couples that wandered out, had wrapped up in her mantle against the cold and
fallen asleep. Otherwise the two were alone among jasmines. Mists floated
around the palace and blurred the city; far off rang the "Todos buen" of
pikemen tramping the outer walls. Westward the balcony faced darkness, where
the last stars glittered. The seven tall topmasts of the Maurai Dolphin caught
the earliest sun and glowed. Tresa shivered and stood close to Ruoni.
They did not speak for a while. "Remember us," she said at last, very
low. "When you are back with your own happier people, do not forget us
here." "How could I?" he answered, no longer in jest. "You have so
much more than we," she said wistfully. "You have told me how your ships can
sail unbelievably fast, almost into the wind. How your fishers always fill
their nets, how your whale ranchers keep herds that darken the water, how you
even farm the ocean for food and fiber and-" she fingered the shimmering
material of his shirt. "You told me this was made by craft out of fishbones.
You told me that every family has its own spacious house and every member of
it, almost, his own boat. . . that even small children on the loneliest island
can read, and own printed books . . . that you have none of the sicknesses
which destroy us. . . that no one hungers and all are free- Oh, do not forget
us, you on whom el DIo has smiled!" She stopped, then, embarrassed. He
could see how her head lifted and nostrils dilated, as if resenting him. After
all, he thought, she came from a breed which for centuries had given, not
received charity. So he chose his words with care: "It has been less our
virtue than our good fortune, Doflita. We suffered less than most in the War
of Judgment, and the fact of Judgment, and the fact of our being chiefly
Islanders prevented our population from outrunning the sea's rich ability to
feed us. So we-no, we did not retain any lost ancestral arts. There are none.
But we did re-create an ancient attitude, a way of thinking, which has made
the difference-science." She crossed herself. "The atom!" she breathed,
drawing from him. "No, no, Doflita," he protested. "So many nations we
have discovered lately believe that science was the cause of the old world's
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ruin. Or else they think that it was a collection of cut-and-dried formulas
for making tall buildings or talking at a distance. But neither belief is
true. The scientific method is only a means of learning. It is a. . . a
perpetual starting afresh. And that is why you people here in Meyco can help
us as much as we can help you, why we have sought you out and will come
knocking hopefully at your doors again in the future." She frowned,
though something began to glow within her. "I do not understand," she said.
He cast about for an example. At last he pointed to a series of small holes
in the balcony rail. "What used to be here?" he asked. "Why . . . I do
not know. It has always been like that." "I think I can tell you. I have
seen similar things elsewhere. It was a wrought-iron grille. But it was pulled
out a long time ago and made into weapons or tools. No?" "Quite likely,"
she admitted. "Iron and copper have grown very scarce. We have to send
caravans across the whole land, to Támico ruins, in great peril from bandits
and barbarians, to fetch our metal. Time was when there were iron rails within
a kilometer of this place. Don Carlos has told me." He nodded. "Just so.
The ancients exhausted the world. They mined the ores, burned the oil and
coal, eroded the land until there was nothing left. I exaggerate, of course.
There are still mineral deposits here and there. But not enough. The old
civilization used up all the capital, so to speak. Now sufficient forest and
soil have come back so the world could try to reconstruct the machine
culture-except that there aren't enough minerals and fuels. For centuries men
have been forced to tear up the old artifacts, if there was to be any metal at
all. By and large, the knowledge of the ancients hasn't been lost; it has
simply become unusable, because we are so much poorer than they." He
leaned forward, earnestly. "But knowledge and discovery do not depend on
wealth," he said. "Perhaps because we did not have so much metal to
cannibalize in the Islands, we turned elsewhere. The scientific method is just
as applicable to wind and sun and living matter as it was to oil, iron, or
uranium. By studying genetics we learned how to create seaweeds, plankton,
fish that would serve our purposes. Scientific forest management gives us
adequate timber, organic-synthesis bases, some fuel. The sun pours down energy
which we know how to concentrate and use. Wood, ceramics, even stone can
replace metal for most purposes. The wind, through such principles as the
airfoil or the Venturi law or the Hilsch tube, supplies force, heat,
refrigeration; the tides can be harnessed. Even in its present early stage,
paramathematical psychology helps control population, as well as- No, I am
talking like an engineer now, falling into my own language. I apologize.
"What I wanted to say was, that if we can only have the help of other people,
such as yourselves, on a world-wide scale, we can match our ancestors, or
surpass them. . . not in their own ways, which were often short-sighted and
wasteful, but in achievements uniquely ours-" His voice trailed off. She
wasn't listening. She stared over his head, into the air, and horror stood on
her face. Then trumpets howled on battlements, and the cathedral bells
crashed to life. "What the nine devils!" Ruori turned on his heel and
looked up. The zenith had become quite blue. Lazily over S' AntOn floated five
orca shapes. The new sun glared off a jagged heraldry painted along their
flanks. He estimated dizzily that each of them must be three hundred feet
long. Blood-colored things petaled out below them and drifted down upon
the city. "The Sky People!" said a small broken croak behind him.
"Sant'sima Marl, pray for us now!" III Loklann hit flagstones,
rolled over, and bounced to his feet. Beside him a carved horseman presided
over fountain waters. For just an instant he admired the stone, almost alive;
they had nothing like that in Canyon, Zona, Corado, any of the mountain
kingdoms. And the temple facing this plaza was white skywardness. The
square had been busy, farmers and handicrafters setting up their booths for a
market day. Most of them scattered in noisy panic. But one big man roared,
snatched up a stone hammer, and dashed in his rags to meet Loklann. He was
covering the flight of a young woman, probably his wife, who held a baby in
her arms. Through the shapeless sack dress Loklann saw that her figure wasn't
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摘要：

TheSkyPeoplebyPoulAndersonTheRoverFleetgottherejustbeforesunrise.Fromitsheight,fivethousandfeet,thelandwasbluishgray,smokedwithmists.Irrigationcanalscaughtthefirstlightasiftheywerefullofmercury.Westwardtheoceangleamed,itsfaredgedissolvedintopurpleandafewstars.LoklannsunnaHolberleanedoverthegalleryra...

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