IV

 

 

Ever since Karg’s arrival at Fregwil the university’s healing-house had been besieged by sensation-seekers. Over and over it had been explained that the pilot would for long be too weak to leave his bower, and even when he recovered only scientists and high officials might apply to meet him. The crowds swelled and dwindled; nonetheless, as though merely looking at the place where he lay gave them some obscure satisfaction, their number never fell below ten score. Some of those who stood vainly waiting were local; most, however, were visitors to the Festival of Science, which lasted a moonlong and was not yet over.

Now and then Quelf graciously consented to be interviewed by foreign news-collectors, and took station in the nearby park behind a bank of efficient loudeners. The questions were almost always the same, but the neurophysicist’s answers were delivered with no less enthusiasm each time. She was positively basking in this welter of publicity, though of course she maintained that her sole ambition was to promote the fame and well-being of Prutaj in general and Fregwil in particular.

Certainly she missed no opportunity of boasting about her city and its skills. For example, to someone making the obvious inquiry about Karg’s physical health, she would describe how frost had ruptured many of his tubules and he might lose his right pad, and then continue: “Luckily, as you know, we now have a loss-free sparkforce lead all the way to Drupit, so when one of our ultramodern snowrithers brought him there, a local physician was able to apply penetrative heating to the affected tissues. Now we’re attempting to regenerate his damaged nerve-pith, too.”

Whereupon someone would invariably ask, “Has he regained full normal consciousness?”

“No, I’m afraid he’s still dreamlost, though there are signs of lucidity. When he does recover, by the way, the first thing we shall want to know is whether he still feels the way he used to about the respective merits of what they do at Slah with their resources, and what we do with ours this side of the ocean. I think his views may well have changed since his unreliable toy fell out of the sky!”

Cue for sycophantic laughter …

As Quelf’s nominee for Jingfired status, Albumarak was bound to dance permanent attendance on her, but the duty was becoming less and less bearable. Today, listening to the latest repetition of her stale gibes, feeling the change in air-pressure which harbingered bad weather, she wished the storm would break at once and put an end to the interview.

If only Presthin had not gone home … The goadster had been persuaded to accompany her and Karg to Fregwil, and spent a couple of grumpy days being introduced to city officials and other notables. Suddenly, however, she announced she’d had her mawful of this, and returned to her usual work with the snowrither, surveying the trade-routes which kept the highland towns supplied in winter and making sure that they were passable.

In the pleasant warmth of Fregwil, Albumarak found it almost impossible to recapture in memory the bitter chill of the valley where Karg had crashed. How could anybody want to be there, rather than here? There was, she realized glumly, an awful lot she didn’t yet understand about people. Worst of all, she had not yet had a chance to fulfill the purpose which had induced her to join Presthin’s rescue mission. All the time she had been in company with Karg, he had been unconscious or dreamlost, and since he had been brought here she had not been allowed to see him. Nobody was, apart from Quelf, a few of her associates, and the regular medical staff.

Wind rustled the nearby trees; the air-pressure shifted again, very rapidly, and people on the fringe of the crowd began to move away in search of shelter. With a few hollow-sounding apologies Quelf brought her public appearance to an end just as the first heavy drops pounded down.

“Do you need me any more right now?” Albumarak ventured.

“Hm? Oh—no, not until first bright tomorrow. Come to think of it, you could do with some time off. You don’t seem to have recovered properly from the strain of bringing Karg back. Actually meeting someone who’s prepared to abandon the rest of us to our fate is a considerable shock, isn’t it?”

Albumarak recognized another of Quelf’s stock insults, which the curtailment of today’s interview had prevented her from using. But she judged it safest to say nothing.

“Yes, get along with you! Go have some fun with young’uns of your own age. Enjoy your dark!”

And the famous neurophysicist was gone, trailing a retinue of colleagues and admirers.

Dully Albumarak turned downslope, making for a branchway that would take her into the lower city, but with no special destination in mind. She had few friends. Some of her fellow students cultivated her acquaintance, but she knew it was because of her association with Quelf, not for her own sake, so she avoided them as much as possible. Now and then, and particularly since her return from the highlands, she found herself wishing for the old days when she could afford to do outrageous things in order to annoy her family. But she had not yet decided to risk trying that again, for Quelf would never be so tolerant … How strange to think of her parents as tolerant, when a year ago she would have sworn they were cruel and repressive!

She was aware of a sort of revolution going on within her. Attitudes she had taken for granted since budlinghood were changing without her willing it. It was like having to endure a private earthquake. She had been dazzled by the idea that one day she too could be Jingfired; she was growing into the habit of behaving herself appropriately. But now she was constantly wondering: do I really want it after all?

“Excuse me!”

A voice addressed her in an unfamiliar accent. She turned to see a she’un not much older than herself.

“Yes?”—more curtly than she intended.

“Aren’t you Albumarak, who helped to rescue Karg?”

It was pointless to deny the fact. Any number of strangers recognized her nowadays.

“My name is Omber. I’m from the space-site at Slah.”

Albumarak’s interest quickened. She knew that a delegation of scientists had arrived a few days ago, to take their pilot home and negotiate for recovery of his cylinder. But this was the first time she had met one of them.

“Ah! I suppose you’ve been to visit Karg, then.”

“They won’t let us!” was the astonishing response.

“What?”

“Literally! Not even Yull—she’s my chief, second-in-command of the entire project and the senior member of our group—not even she has been allowed to see him yet. Do you have any idea why?”

“This is the first I’ve heard about it!” Albumarak declared.

“Really?” Omber was taken aback. “Oh … Oh, well, then I won’t trouble you any further. But I did rather assume—”

With rising excitement Albumarak interrupted. “No, I assure you! I’m horrified! What possible reason can they have to stop Karg’s friends from visiting him, even if he isn’t well enough to talk yet?”

“I’m not exactly a friend of his,” Omber said. “I only met him once or twice during his training. If it were just a matter of myself, I wouldn’t be surprised. But Yull …! How is he, really? I suppose you’ve seen him recently?”

“They won’t let me see him either,” Albumarak answered grimly. “They didn’t let Presthin, come to that.”

“Presthin—? Oh, yes: the goadster! You mean not even she …? This is ridiculous! Excuse me; one doesn’t mean to be impolite to one’s host city, but it is, isn’t it?”

“It’s incredible!”

“You don’t suppose … No, I oughtn’t even to say it.”

“Go ahead,” Albumarak urged.

Omber filled her mantle. “You don’t suppose he’s being submitted to some sort of experimental treatment, and it’s going wrong? We can’t find out! Not many people here care to talk to us, and the people from our permanent trade mission say it’s always the same for them, too.”

“You make me ashamed for my own city!”

“That’s very kind and very reassuring.” Abruptly Omber sagged, revealing that she was dreadfully tired. “Excuse me, but I haven’t had a proper rest since we boarded the floater. Yull sent me up here to have one more go at persuading the staff to admit us, while she went to see some official or other about recovering the cylinder. Not that there’s much hope of our getting it back before the spring, apparently. They’re making excuses about the danger from its unexpended fuel, and nobody understands that the colder it is, the safer. I mean, I work with it every day of my life, back home, and we haven’t had any accidents with it, not ever, not even once. By the spring, though, venting it could really be hazardous. Still, with a bit of luck Yull will manage to make them listen.”

There was a pause. Except for the hardiest, most of the crowd surrounding the healing-house had dispersed or sought shelter. Abruptly Albumarak realized that she had kept Omber standing in the pouring rain, and hastily urged her to the nearest bower.

“Do you think your colleagues will believe that even I haven’t been allowed to see Karg?” she demanded.

Omber gave a curl of faint amusement. “I believe you entirely. And nothing in this weird city is likely to surprise me after that. Yes, I think they will.”

“But just in case they don’t …” Albumarak’s mind was racing. “Would you like me to tell them personally?”

“Why—why, that’s too much to ask! But it would be wonderful! That is, if you can spare the time?”

“I have nothing much to do,” Albumarak muttered, thinking how accurate that was not only of the present moment but of her entire life. Quelf’s idea of encouraging her students’ research was to let them watch what she herself was doing and then take over the repetitive drudgery involved … and blame them for anything that afterwards went wrong. “Where is your delegation lodged?”

“In a spare house near our trade mission, which they had to wake up specially for us. It’s a bit primitive, since it hasn’t been occupied for several moonlongs, but if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind …?”

“It will be a pleasure,” Albumarak declared. “Let’s go!”