The Blue World (18 page)

“Sponge arbors
and barges,” mused Maible. “Nothing immediately sinister
here.”

“Not unless
the intent is to provision a new expeditionary force.”

“Something is
in the wind,” said Henry Bastaff. ‘The intercessors both
new and old are arriving at Apprise, and there’s talk of a conclave,
You two keep your ears on Smathe’s workroom, and I’ll try to catch a
word or two of what’s happening.”

Mid-morning of` the
following day Henry Bastaff walked by the hessian bush under which
lay Barway and Maible. Squatting, pretending to tie the thongs of
sandals, he muttered: “Bastaff here. Today is the conclave,
highly important, beside the hoodwink tower. I’m going to try to hide
behind a stack of hood-facings. I may or may not be successful. One
of you swim to where the tower posts go through the float. There’s a
gap of a few inches where you can breathe and possibly hear—especially if you chisel away some of the pulp.”

From under the
fronds of the hessian bush came muffled voice. “Best that you
keep your distance; they’ll be on the alert for spies. We’ll try to
hear the proceedings from below.”

“I’ll do
whatever looks safe,” said Henry Bastaff. “I’m going.
There’s an Exemplar watching me.”

In their niche
below the pad, Maible and Barway heard his retreating footsteps and,
a moment later, another leisurely tread, as someone, presumably the
Exemplar, strolled by.

The footsteps moved
away; Barway and Maible relaxed.

After consultation,
Barway slipped from the shelf into the water, and after taking his
bearings, swam to where the poles of the hoodwink tower passed
through the float.

Here, as Bastaff
had stated, were gaps at which, after a certain amount of cutting and
chiseling, Barway could either put his mouth and nose or his ear, but
not both at once.

Henry Bastaff went
about his business of spice-grinding, and after an hour or so walked
past the hoodwink tower. The pile of hood-facings was as before.
Henry Bastaff looked in all directions. No one appeared to be
observing him. He squatted, shifted the facings this way and that and
contrived an opening into which he inserted himself.

Time passed. The
longer Henry Bastaff sat the more uneasy he became. The pile of
facings suddenly seemed overprovident. The area had been too
conveniently deserted. Could it be that the facings had been arranged
to serve as a spy-trap? Hurriedly Bastaff wriggled back out, and
after a quick look around, took himself off.

A half hour later
intercessors began to gather on the scene. Six Exemplar Selects came
to stand guard, and to prevent unauthorized persons from pressing too
close.

At last Barquan
Blasdel appeared, walking slowly, his black cloak drifting and
billowing behind. .Three Exemplars of the Fervent category marched at
his back. He passed near the stack of facings and turned them a quick
glance. They had been disarranged, slightly moved. Barquan Blasdel’s
lips tightened in a small, secret smile. He turned, spoke to the
Fervent Exemplars, who took up positions beside the pile of facings.

Barquan Blasdel
faced the assembled intercessors. He raised his hands for silence.
“Today begins anew, phase of our preparations,” he said.
“We expect to achieve two purposes: to systematize our relations
with King Kragen, and to establish a necessary precondition to our
great project. Before I go into details, I wish to make some comments
in regard to espionage. No creature is as vile as a spy, especially a
spy from the dissident floats. If apprehended, he can expect but
small mercy at our hands. So now I inquire: have all present been
vigilant in this regard?”

The assembled
intercessors nodded their heads and gave witness that, indeed, they
had exercised meticulous caution.

“Good!”
declared Barquan Blasdel heartily. “Still, the dissident spies
are clever and viciously militant. They know no more fear than a
spurgeon, and even less guilt for their misdeeds. But we are more
clever than these spies. We know how to smell them out! In fact, the
rank odor of an unmitigated spy issues from behind that stack of
hood-facings. Fervents! Take the necessary measures!”

The Exemplar
Fervents tore into the stack of hood-facings. Barquan Blasdel came to
watch. The Fervents found nothing. They looked at Barquan Blasdel,
who pulled at his lip in annoyance. “Well, well,” said
Blasdel. “A vigilance too extreme is preferable to carelessness.

Below, where the
pole passed through the float, Barway, by dint of taking a deep
breath and holding his ear to the crevice, had heard the last remark.
But Barquan Blasdel returned to his previous place, and words became
muffled and incomprehensible.

Barquan Blasdel
spoke for several minutes. All listened attentively, including the
six Exemplars Barquan Blasdel had put on guard, to such an extent
that presently stood at the last row of the intercessors. Barquan
Blasdel finally noticed and waved them back. One of these more
punctilious than the others, retreated past the edge of the hoodwink
supply shed, where a man stood listening. “Ho!” called the
Exemplar. “What do you here?”

The man so detected
gave a wave of all-indulgent tolerance and staggered drunkenly away.

“Halt!”
cried the Exemplar. “Return and declare yourself!” He
jumped forward and dragged the man into the open area. All examined
him with attention. His skin was dark, his face was bland and bare of
hair; he wore the nondescript snuff-colored smock of a Peculator or
Malpractor.

Barquan Blasdel
marched forward. “Who are you? Why do you lurk in these
forbidden precincts?”

The man staggered
again and made a foolish gesture. “Is this the tavern? Pour out
the arrack, pour for all! I am a stranger on Apprise—I would
know the quality of your food and drink.”

Vrink Smathe
snorted. “The fool is a spice-grinder and

drunk. I have seen
him often. Direct him to the inn.”

“No!”
roared Blasdel, jerking forward in excitement. “This is a
dissident, this is a spy! I know him well! He has shaved his head and
his face, but never can he defeat my acuity! He is here to learn our
secrets!”

“The group
turned their attention upon the man, who” blinked even more
vehemently. “A spy? Not I! I seek only a cup of arrack.”

Blasdel sniffed
the air in front of the captive’s face. “There is no odor:
neither beer nor arrack nor spirits of life. Come! All must satisfy
themselves as to this so that there will be no subsequent
contradictions and vacillations.”

“What is your
name?” demanded Vogel Womack, the Adelvine Intercessor. “Your
float and your caste? Identify yourself!”

The captive took a
deep breath, cast off his pretense of drunkenness. “I am Henry
Bastaff. I am a dissident. I am here to find if you plan evil against
us. That is my sole purpose.”

“A spy!”
cried Barquan Blasdel in a voice of horror. “A self-confessed
spy.”

The intercessors
set up a chorus of indignant hoots. Blasdel said, “He is guilty
of at least a double offense: first, the various illegalities
entering into his dissidence; and second, his insolent attempt to
conspire against us, the staunch, the faithful, the true! As Chief
Exemplar, I am compelled to demand the extreme penalty.”

Vogel Womack tried
to temper Barquan Blasdel’s wrath. “Let us delay our judgment,”
he remarked uneasily. “Presently the man’s deed may not appear
so grave.”

Barquan Blasdel
ignored him. “This man is a vile dissident, an agent of turmoil
and a spy. He must suffer an extreme penalty! To this declaration
there will be allowed no appeal!”

Henry Bastaff was
taken to Vrink Smathe’s dwelling, which stood nearby, and confined in
the workroom, with four Exemplars surrounding him and never for an
instant taking away their gaze.

Henry Bastaff
surveyed the surroundings. To right and left were shelves; at the
back a screen concealed the hole through the float.

Henry Bastaff spoke
to the Exemplars. “I heard Blasdel’s program. Are you men
interested in what is to happen?” None responded.

Henry Bastaff
smiled wanly and looked toward the quarter of the room in which was
the hole. “Blasdel intends to lead King Kragen to the new
floats, so that King Kragen may express his pleasure against the
dissidents, and may also destroy whatever dissident boats stand in
the way.”

No one spoke.

“To this end,”
said Henry Bastaff in a clear and distinct voice, “he has built
floating sponge arbors to guarantee King Kragen an ample ration
during the voyage, together with barges for more sponges, boats for
the necessary advertisermen and a force of Exemplars to occupy New
Home Float.”

The four men in
uniform merely stared at him; After a few minutes Henry Bastaff
repeated the information. He added: “I may never see the New
Floats again, but hope I have helped us to freedom. Farewell to the
men of the New Floats; I wish only that they could be warned of the
evil which Barquan Blasdel plans to bring to them.”

“Silence!”
spoke one of the Exemplars. “You have ranted enough.”

On the following
day an alteration was made in the method by which King Kragen was
tendered his oblation. Previously, when King Kragen approached a
lagoon with the intent of feasting, arbors overgrown with sponges
were floated to the edge of the net, for King Kragen to pluck with
his palps. Now the sponges were plucked by advertisermen, heaped upon
a great tray and floated forth between a pair of coracles. When the
tray was in place, Barquan Blasdel went to Vrink Smathe’s work-room,
where he seemed not to see Henry Bastaff. He listened at the horn.
King Kragen was close at hand; the scraping of his chitin armor
sounded loud in the earpiece. Blasdel turned the crank which sent
forth the summoning rattle. King Kragen’s scraping ceased, then began
once more, increasing in intensity. King Kragen was approaching.

He appeared from
the east, turret and massive torso riding above the surface, the
great rectangular platform gliding through the ocean on easy strokes
of his vanes.

The forward eyes
noted the offering. He eased forward, inspected the tray, and with
his forward palps began to scoop the sponges into his maw.

From the float folk
watched in somber speculation. Barquan Blasdel came forth to stand on
the edge of the pad, to bow and gesticulate ritual approval as King
Kragen ate.

The tray was empty.
King Kragen made no move to depart. Blasdel swung about, called to a
Fervent Exemplar. “The sponges—how many were offered?”

“Seven
bushels. King Kragen usually eats no more.”

“Today he
seems to linger. Are others plucked?”

“Those for the
market, another five bushels.”

“They had best
be tendered King Kragen; it is not well to stint.”

While King Kragen
floated motionless, the coracles I were pulled to the float. Another
five bushels were poured upon the tray and the tray thrust back
toward King Kragen. Again he ate, consuming all but a bushel or two.
Then, replete, he submerged till only his turret remained above
water. And there he remained, moving sluggishly a few feet forward, a
few feet backward.

Nine days later
Maible and Barway, haggard as much from horror as privation, reported
to the folk of New Float.

“On the
following day King Kragen had not yet moved. It was clear that the
new method of feeding had impressed him favorably. So at noon the
tray was again filled, with at least ten bushels of sponge, and again
King Kragen devoured the lot.

“During this
time Henry Bastaff was moved from Smathe’s workroom, and we could not
learn of his new place of incarceration. This saddened us, for we had
intended to attempt his rescue through the horn hole.

“On the third
day Blasdel made an announcement which went across the hoodwink
towers, to the effect that King Kragen had demanded the privilege of
executing the dissident spy who had sinned so grievously against him.
At noon the tray went out. At the very top if was a wide board
supporting a single great sponge, and below the usual heap. King
Kragen had not moved fifty yards for three days. He approached the
tray, reached for the topmost sponge. It seemed fastened to the
board. King Kragen jerked, and so decapitated Henry Bastaff, whose
head had been stuffed into the sponge. It was a horrible sight, with
the blood spouting upon the pile of sponges. King Kragen seemed to
devour them with particular relish.

“With Henry
Bastaff dead, we no longer had reason to delay—except for
curiosity. King Kragen showed no signs of moving, of visiting other
floats. It was clear that he found the new feeding system to his
liking. On the fourth day his meal was furnished by Granolt Float and
ferried to Apprise by coracle. On the fifth day the sponges were
brought from Sankston. It appears that King Kragen is now a permanent
guest at Apprise Float—which is the essential first part of
Blasdel’s plan.”

There was a moment
or two of silence; Phyral Berwick made a sound of revulsion. “It
is a situation which we must alter.” He looked at Sklar Hast.
“How far advanced are your preparations?”

Sklar Hast
indicated Roger Kelso. “Ask the man who smelts our metal.”

“Our resources
are multiplying,” said Kelso. “We have bled everyone on the
float, twice or three times; this blood has yielded ten pounds of
iron, which we have hammered and refined. It is now hard and tough
beyond all belief—but still there is only ten pounds. The
kragen and the sponge husks have given us much more copper: fifty or
sixty pounds at a guess. Our electrical device has produced
twenty-four flasks of acid of salt, which we maintain in bottles
blown in our glass shop. This is now an establishment completely
separated from the smelting.”

“Encouraging
and interesting,” said Robin Magram, the Master Incendiary, a
man not too imaginative, “but how will it avail against King
Kragen?”

“We haven’t
completed our experiments,” said Kelso. “I can’t give you a
definite answer—yet. We need a live kragen, and they’ve been
giving us a wide berth. Perhaps we’ll be forced to go hunting.”

“Meanwhile,”
said Sklar Hast, “we can disrupt Blasdel’s timetable.”

A month later, in
the dead of night, with only starlight to guide them, six black
coracles approached Tranque Float. It showed a barren unfamiliar
silhouette, denuded of all verdure save for the central spikes and
their attendant fronds. At the eastern end of the float were low
barracks and a flat area apparently used as an exercise ground; at
the western end was a bleak construction area, where the skeletons of
sponge arbors glimmered white in the starlight.

The net across the
lagoon mouth was cut. The coracles drifted into the lagoon, where
were ranked long arbor after arbor, each bulging with ripe sponges.
The men made silent play with knives, cutting away the with floats
and the anchor ropes; the arbors submerged, disappeared; the water of
the lagoon rippled blank and vacant.

The coracles
departed as stealthily as they had come. They circled the float. From
the eastern side of Tranque, toward Thrasneck Float, extended six
floating fingers, to which were moored twelve double hulled barges.
Oil was poured into each hull, torches were flung; great flames
thrust high into the sky, and angry cries came from the barracks. The
black boats, with the men in black straining to the paddles, fled
eastward across the ocean. For an hour the orange flames licked at
the sky, then slowly dwindled and died.

Two months later, a
scout coracle, after a cautious reconnaissance, returned to report
that the docks had been repaired, that new barges were nearly
complete, that new arbors were in place, and that the area was
patrolled continuously by Exemplars armed with pikes and swords.