George R. R. Martin - With Morning Comes Mistfall

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GEORGE R. R. MARTIN
With Morning
Comes Mistfall
if you could go to Loch Ness tomorrow and prove or disprove conclusively the
existence of the monster, would you? Should you? When all the questions are
answered, when all the superstitions are stilled, when science has unraveled
all the mysteries, what will we do? Would you want to live in such a time?
Would we be able to live then?
I was early to breakfast that morning, the first day after landing. But
Sanders was already out on the dining balcony when I got there. He was
standing alone by the edge, looking out over the mountains and the mists.
I walked up behind him and muttered hello. He didn't bother. to reply.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, without turning.
And it was.
Only a few feet below balcony level the mists rolled, sending ghostly
breakers to crash against the stones of Sanders's castle. A thick white
blanket extended from horizon to horizon, cloaking everything. We could see
the summit of the Red Ghost, off to the north; a barbed dagger of scarlet rock
jabbing into the sky. But that was all. The other mountains were still below
mist level.
But we were above the mists. Sanders had built his hotel atop the
tallest mountain in the chain. We were floating alone in a swirling white
ocean, on a flying castle amid a sea of clouds.
Castle Cloud, in fact. That was .what Sanders had named the place. It
was easy to see why.
"Is it always like this?" I asked Sanders, after drinking it all in for
a while.
"Every mistfall," he replied, turning toward me with a wistful smile. He
was a fat man, with a jovial red face. Not the sort who should smile
wistfully. But he did.
He gestured toward the east, where Wraithworld's sun rising above the
mists made a crimson and orange spectacle of the dawn sky.
"The sun," he said. "As it rises, the heat drives the mists back into
the valleys, forces them to surrender the mountains they've conquered during
the night. The mists sink, and one by one the peaks come into view. By noon
the whole range is visible for miles and miles. There's nothing like it on
Earth, or anywhere else."
He smiled again, and led me over to one of the tables scattered around
the balcony. "And then, at sunset, it's all reversed. You must watch mist rise
tonight,"
he said. j
We sat down, and a sleek robowaiter came rolling a out to serve us as
the chairs registered our presence. Sanders ignored it. "It's war, you know,"
he continued. "Eternal war between the sun and the mists. And the mists have
the better of it. They have the valleys, and the plains, and the seacoasts.
The sun has only a few mountaintops. And them only by day."
He turned to the robowaiter and ordered coffee for both of us, to keep
us occupied until the others arrived. It would be fresh brewed, of course.
Sanders didn't tolerate instants or synthetics on his planet.
"You like it here," I said, while we waited for the coffee.
Sanders laughed. "What's not to like? Castle Cloud has everything. Good
food, entertainment, gambling, and all the other comforts of home. Plus this
planet. I've got the best of both worlds, don't I?"
"I suppose so. But most people don't think in those terms. Nobody comes
to Wraithworld for the gambling, or the food."
Sanders nodded. "But we do get some hunters. Out after rock cats and
plains devils. And once in a while someone will come to look at the ruins."
"Maybe," I said. "But those are your exceptions. Not your rule. Most of
your guests are here for one reason."
"Sure," he admitted, grinning. "The wraiths."
"The wraiths," I echoed. "You've got beauty here, and hunting and
fishing and mountaineering. But none
of that brings the tourists here. It's the wraiths they came for."
The coffee arrived then, two big steaming mugs accompanied by a pitcher
of thick cream. It was very strong, and very hot, and very good. After weeks
of spaceship synthetic, it was an awakening.
Sanders sipped at his coffee with care, his eyes studying me over the
mug. He set it down thoughtfully. "And it's the wraiths you've come for, too,"
he said.
I shrugged. "Of course. My readers aren't interested in scenery, no
matter how spectacular. Dubowski and his men are here to find wraiths, and I'm
here to cover the search."
Sanders was about to answer, but he never got the chance. A sharp,
precise voice cut in suddenly. "If there are any wraiths to find," the voice
said. We turned to face the balcony entrance. Dr. Charles Dubowski, head of
the Wraithworld Research Team, was standing in the doorway, squinting at the
light. He had managed to shake the gaggle of research assistants who usually
trailed him everywhere.
Dubowski paused for a second, then walked over to our table, pulled out
a chair, and sat down. The robowaiter came rolling out again.
Sanders eyed the thin scientist with unconcealed dis-
taste. "What makes you think the wraiths aren't there,
Doctor?" he asked.
_Dubowski shrugged, and smiled lightly. "I just don't feel there's enough
evidence," he said. "But don't worry. I never let my feelings interfere with
my work. I want the truth as much as anyone. So I'll run an impartial
expedition. If your wraiths are out there, I'll find them."
"Or they'll find you," Sanders said. He looked grave. "And that might
not be too pleasant."
Dubowski laughed. "Oh, come now, Sanders. Just because you live in a
castle doesn't mean you have to be so melodramatic."
"Don't laugh, Doctor. The wraiths have killed people before, you know."
"No proof of that," said Dubowski. "No proof at all. Just as there's no
proof of the wraiths themselves. But that's why we're here. To find proof. Or
disproof. But come, I'm famished." He turned to our robowaiter, who had been
standing by and humming impatiently.
Dubowski and I ordered rockcat steaks, with a basket of hot, freshly
baked biscuits. Sanders took advantage of the Earth supplies our ship had
brought in last night, and got a massive slab of ham with a half dozen eggs.
Rockcat has a flavor that Earth meat hasn't had in centuries. I loved
it, although Dubowski left much of his steak uneaten. He was too busy talking
to eat.
"You shouldn't dismiss the wraiths so lightly," Sanders said after the
robowaiter had stalked off with our orders. "There is evidence. Plenty of it.
Twenty-two deaths since this planet was discovered. And eyewitness accounts of
wraiths by the dozens."
"True," Dubowski said. "But I wouldn't call that real evidence. Deaths?
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