Watson, Ian - Black Current 03 (8 page)

 
          
"You don't say."

 
          
"Your new book won't be
printed—not entire. Yet it
must
be.
I'll tell you how. A copy has to be smuggled out."

 
          
"Tell us something new,"
said Peli. "Those guards watch what goes out like snapperfish."

 
          
"Merely a
practical detail!
First, we need a good copy. I shall make it. I pen
quickly. Once my copy is clear away from here—"

 
          
"You'll send it straight to your
crackpot Guild of Seekers," Tam said suspiciously. "And that'll be
that."

 
          
"No! Everybody must read it.
Obviously it can't be printed here in Pecawar. It should be printed in Port
Barbra."

 
          
"Uh?" said Tam. "No
books are ever printed there. They don't know how."

 
          
"Hear me out! That's an
excellent reason for sending the copy there."

 
          
"What, where
it can't be printed?"

 
          
"Listen to me. All the type for
Ajelobo's printing presses is made in Guineamoy. Likewise the type for
newssheet presses everywhere. En route here, I stopped over at Guineamoy and
made enquiries. I seek truth everywhere, you see! I assess all options. I
discussed with a metalsmith the crafting of a special new fount of type—and the
cost plus a price for discretion. We agreed; I commissioned the making of the
fount."

 
          
"You hadn't seen Yaleen's new
book then," said Peli. "You're ly- mg.

 
          
"We Seekers, in Ajelobo and
'Barbra, wish to print pamphlets privately. Tmth is about to blossom.
Such changes recently!"

 
          
"Yon bunch of Seekers must have
plenty of spare fish to toss around," said Tam.

 
          
"In the past—how shall I put
this without sounding coarse
?—
several prosperous
patrons have appreciated the erotic aspect of our investigations."

 
          
"And burned themselves up in the
process, I'll be bound!" I said. "I know about that drug. You're old
by thirty if you overdo it. So your Seekers are content to hook rich fools on
early death, and buy printing type with the proceeds!"

 
          
Stamno's eyes gleamed.
"Never mind about that.
The whole galaxy might die
before its time. In any case I must dissociate the Seekers of Truth from some
of the more carnal activities of our own associates—which are best regarded,
mind you, as a mask, a guise, a Special Path."

 
          
"Path where?
To the graveyard?"

 
          
"You don't understand. Hear me
out. The new type fount will be consigned to Port Barbra. Our associates have
great influence over the newssheet in 'Barbra. Necessarily so! They don't want
slanderous rumours published about them.
The
Book of the Stars
will be printed in that newly minted
typeface—untraceable! It will appear in the form of a flat newssheet of many
pages. It won't be elegant and it won't be bound. The paper will be raggier.
But it will be shipped everywhere covertly in that disguise—then released
simultaneously. After which, you will publicly confirm your authorship."

 
          
"If I'm
allowed."

 
          
"If you aren't, savants in
Ajelobo will soon prove by exegesis that it is no forgery."

 
          
The confrontation had got completely
turned around; and in short order. I began to appreciate the cunning style in
which Stamno must have inveigled his way into the good graces of the river
guild over a number of years without any 'mistresses suspecting deceitful
intent; all for the sake of his ideal. There was a lot about this set-up which
I didn't like. But nevertheless . . . and nevertheless, again!

 
          
"Okay," I said, "we'll
do it."

 
          
"That's all very well,"
said Peli, "but how do we smuggle
Stamno's
copy out? I can't very well stuff the pages up my whatnot." She nudged
Stamno, embarrassing him.

 
          
"In pots!" exclaimed Tam.
"We'll smuggle it out a part at a time in pots with false bottoms. They're
used to seeing me shift pots around, and take them out to the stall."

 
          
"Where I'll ensure that they're
snapped up promptly," said Stamno. "I'll employ an agent."

 
          
"They're used to looking in my
pots, too. That's where the false bottom comes in."

 
          
"Forgive me if this is a dumb
question," said Peli, "but won't the papers bum to a frazzle if
you're baking a false bottom over them?"

 
          
"No. I'll put them in pots I've
already made. I'll fold the sheets tight, wrap them in waxed paper,
then
tamp clay down on top. I'll just dry the false bottom
by hanging the pot over a lamp; and I'll bmsh paint on to look like a glaze.
The guards can peer inside to their heart's content. I'll make the necks of the
pots too narrow to get their hands down."

 
          
Two mornings later, there was a
bustle on the river. All the regatta visitors were being packed off home again.
(Incidentally, I'd hoped that Hasso might avail himself of the temporary
liberty of the waterway to pay me a visit. No such luck; maybe he couldn't afford
the fare.) In the midst of these manoeuvres, hoping that they provided a pretty
distraction, I sought Donnah and requested a lot more paper.

 
          
"Why? Is the book turning out
long?"

 
          
"Oh yes. Besides, I spoiled
oodles of sheets."

 
          
"That many?
I hadn't noticed."

 
          
"I threw them in the river,
didn't I? I made paper boats."

 
          
Donnah provided paper.

 
          
Stamno set to at his scribing task,
working in his own cubby-hole of a room which he kept locked without causing
comment, since he of course was a friend of the guild. Tam for his part began
producing pitchers with narrow necks so that the guards would get used to
seeing them. And I rushed to finish my writing.

 
          
Quite soon came the day when Chanoose
called by to announce that work on the dikes would be completed the following
Tauday. The 'jacks were almost home. The prisoners were safely beyond Aladalia,
battened down, ready to be freighted over. Another few days, and the water
could be pumped out of the dikes.

 
          
"What a fine success our regatta
was," she cooed at me.

 
          
"I couldn't agree more."
That was when we had uncovered Stamno and hatched our scheme.

 
          
"The number of visits here is
falling off, though."

 
          
"Yes, I'd noticed." Thank
goodness; I'd needed the extra hours.

 
          
"It's only to be expected. Price
of success, eh? Do you know
,
we've enrolled almost the
whole of Pecawar? Therefore the guild has decided that shortly you should go on
a grand progress lasting half a year or so—down south to Tambimatu, first, then
all the way north at least to Aladalia."

 
          
"But . . . but Tam just came
from Aladalia to be with me!"

 
          
"Not to worry! With all that
expensively gotten clay in his hands, he ought to be as happy as a mud-hopper.
You see, people
are
joining us in
the other towns—but your presence on the spot will attract many more. We do
want the maximum number safely in the fold before the Godmind attacks, don't
we?"

 
          
"Yes," I mumbled weakly.

 
          
"Good, that's all settled. You
can set off on Rhoday next.
Women only on the river by
then!"

 
          
"Rhoday next,
eh?"
Stamno smoothed the hair lapping his nape. "I've nearly
caught up in my copying."

 
          
"There's only a tiny bit
more," I said. "I'm nearly done."

 
          
"We'd better start smuggling
tomorrow. Right, Tam?"

 
          
Tam was staring at me slack-jawed.

 
          
"Half a year
or so!
What does 'or so' mean? Maybe they'll decide you ought to tour
the river permanently. In which case, why did I ever come here?"

 
          
"To make pitchers, that's
why," replied Stamno.
"Pitchers in which to hide
paper."

 
          
Tam bunched those bony fists of his;
for once in his life he looked on the point of striking someone.

 
          
"I'll stick by your side,"
Peli promised me. "You can count on it."

 
          
This only made matters worse; Tam
smashed his fists together. He pounded his knuckles.

 
          
"Stow it!" snapped Stamno.
"I don't see this as an ultimate tragedy. If need be, you can always walk
home."

 
          
"After all this effort they've
put into getting the right clay for me, who says as I'll be allowed?"

 
          
Stamno disregarded this. "If
Yaleen's well away from here when
The
Book of the Stars
appears, and if the river guild get vengeful, and if she
happens to be in the general area of Ajelobo or Port Barbra—we Seekers can
offer sanctuary."

 
          
"I can hide in the forests and
be the pet of your cult? Lovely, charming! Just what do you think the guild
would do for revenge? Cut my head off?"

 
          
Stamno laughed in a dry, rattly way.
"We're wasting time in idle speculation. Fact number one: Yaleen is going
on a trip. Fact number two: we have
work
to
finish."

 
          
"Just a mo," said Peli.
"What are you going to be doing after Rhoday next, Stamno?"

 
          
"Me? I'll remain here in all
innocence and study the writings which Yaleen leaves behind. What else? Thus
Tam shall not be entirely bereft of congenial company." Was this some
essay at humour?

 
          
Tam, bless him, grinned crookedly.
"With Peli gone off sailing, I could use another pair of hands at the
kiln!"

 
          
"Oh dear me," said Stamno.

 
          
"I hear you're going away,"
said Mum. "I think I shall come with you."

 
          
"What? How about Dad? He can't
sail. He's stuck here, same as Tam."

 
          
"I'm
not stuck."

 
          
For a brief moment I almost hated my
mother.

 
          
"Your father will be happy with
his facts and figures," she continued lightly. "Temple statistics
matter more them his spice accounts of old.
Though of course
those were also important; in their way."
Her voice hardened.
"I don't have a home any more, except with you, Yaleen. Do you suggest I
remain as caretaker of an empty temple?
A sort of human
dust-sheet?"

 
          
"This temple won't be a ghost
when I'm gone! If you think so, what price Dad's facts and figures—not to
mention his happiness?"

 
          
She shrugged. "This trip is
different from your other trips, daughter dear. This time you won't be a young
woman well able to look after yourself. You're only three years old."

 
          
"Peli will be going."

 
          
"Is Peli your
mother?"

 
          
"She's a riverwoman! Um, maybe
you and Dad ought to move back to our house while I'm away?"

 
          
"And caretake there, for a
change? No, Yaleen, I want more. I have a right. Didn't I endure childbirth
twice for you?"

 
          
"Yes, yes. But look, I really
don't see how you can do this to Dad."

 
          
"What am I doing?"

 
          
"Abandoning him, damn it!"