He led Cor into a thicket; they settled down. He looked into the sky, found the Hourglass, and extended its base to intersect the long bar of the Northern Cross. Now that he had north fixed, he could find the azimuth in Tatja’s message: the azimuth of the Rebel camp.
As he set the tripod on the ground and screwed the signaler on it, Cor took out paper and pen, ready to record any answer. He pulled the starting strip and felt the box warm. He grasped the shutter trip and recalled the exact words Tatja wanted sent. The message was in Savoy Mercantile Code, the most common signaling code of Crownesse: AS THE ISLAND APE SAID TO THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR: MAY I AID YOU? Since island apes are brainless, only a very peculiar person would get the point.
He began tripping out the message. The lamp’s shutter flew open and shut with barely audible clicks. The air was clear, and the box was well shielded. He saw no sign of the beam he was casting across the valley. He had barely finished the third word when he saw a light flicker down by the river. He ignored it, concentrated on his own message. Behind him, Cor whispered the letters she was recording from the other signal lamp: “KZTPQ MPAPF RPTOZ DZRNR.”
He finished the message and folded the tripod. “Let’s go. I’ll bet you iron that was one of our own spies reporting that someone was signaling the enemy from here. If Profirio doesn’t land a shell on us, we’ll be shot by our own people.”
They scrambled out of the brush and trotted across open ground. Svir dropped the signaler; they were no longer red-handed. He guided Cor by the waist. She paid little attention to the ground, but kept her face turned toward the river valley. On her shoulder, Ancho made whimpering noises.
Cor stopped, and Svir followed her gaze. Across the valley, at the top of the far crest, a signal lamp winked on and off. Cor took her book out and recorded every letter. The message was short: just two words, and the first was nonsense. More military signals? He felt Cor shrug. “I think the friend yonder plays Tatja’s game; maybe she can translate.” They watched for nearly half a minute, but there was nothing more. Further up the hill they were stopped by a party of guards. Ancho was either asleep or afraid, because he didn’t radiate anything effective. Svir identified himself as the astronomer royal and demanded to be taken to the command area to report a “disgraceful breach of security.”
Fifteen minutes later they walked through the light trap of the command tent. Though large and well appointed, the interior had a crudeness that labeled it provincial. A single oil lamp hung from the center pole. Svir and Cor walked past the officers and guards who sat bleary-eyed behind the queen. Tatja’s face was strangely slack. She glanced up and didn’t seem to recognize them. What had happened? Svir looked at the provincials. Nothing strange there. Apparently she had been talking to the young underofficer who faced her across the camp table.
Cor handed her the notebook. She stared at the message for a long moment: JOLLE JESTS. Her slack expression was replaced by a faint smile. She looked up at them, then at the fellow standing on the other side of the table. She spoke very softly. “We were wrong, Cor. There are two of them.”
Svir looked more carefully at the other man. There were enough bars on his sleeve to make him very high ranking. His chair was set ahead of the provincial generals. He returned Svir’s gaze with a puzzled frown. Then he smiled and leaned forward. His voice was low. “How many more are there like you three?” Tatja replied just as softly, “How many more are there like you two?”
“Just we two. You see, I’m a gendarme, a policeman. The thing called Profirio is—a monster.”
Seventeen
It was said Riverside Road in Picchiu Province passed through the most beautiful country in the world. Svir did not dispute the assertion. The road ran along the Picchiu River, straight through an open forest whose trees often extended their branches to form a roof across the road, a roof that scattered green and gold highlights on the pavement.
They were nearly ten thousand feet above sea level, and though the air was thin, it was wonderfully crisp, and dry. For the first time since they had left Bayfast, Svir felt really clean. That morning, he and Cor had taken a quick swim in the icy waters of the Picchiu. Even now, he could hear the river rolling by just a few feet away. That sound would come louder as they moved upstream, as the valley became a gorge and the riverbed steepened.
It was when the forest roof parted that things got really impressive. Still miles away, the main peaks of the Doomsday Range rose thousands of feet above the road. Except for a cloud band at the fourteen-thousand-foot level, every detail was visible. Much of the flanks were free of snow, and the bare bones of the young mountains stood black and gray and yellow and brown. Svir thought he could see every crystalline striation there. In the nearer distance, rugged hills ranged on either side of the river valley. Downstream those hills were gentle, covered by the same deciduous forest as the valley proper. Here they bore dark-needle looproot trees. And they were fast becoming too rugged for the looproot—great sections of bedrock were visible. The hillsides would soon become cliff faces.
But no matter how formidable the valley walls might seem, Svir knew there were paths there. And somewhere up there, the enemy’s infantry and supply trains made their slow, difficult way. By now those forces must be several miles behind the Crownesse-Sfierranyil army, since the Crown’s Men were using the wide, straight Riverside Road.
Through the trees bordering the road, Svir could see foot soldiers paralleling the cavalry and art’ry. The Sfierranyii battle groups had been annexed to the crown’s, summing to nearly twenty-four thousand men and five hundred art’ry pieces. From their position in the second group, Svir and Cor couldn’t even see the head of the column—some thousand yards ahead. Before and behind them was the line of creaking supply and art’ry wagons, puffing skoats, and silent infantrymen. The line stretched nearly nine miles. It wasn’t the biggest army in the world, but the crown’s battle groups comprised the best men and equipment from the best military organization in the world.
And of all the people marching along this road, only four knew the real reason they were here. Last night he had witnessed the strangest revelation of his life.
Tatja had adjourned the conference in the tent. This was a relief to most of those present. They had been up all afternoon. Not even Haarm Wechsler had noticed that Tatja and Jolle stayed behind when the others left. Empty, the tent was like a cave. The flickering torch lighted four faces; everything beyond was darkness. Then Jolle revealed the secret behind all recorded history.
There had been a long silence. Svir felt himself caught in a nightmare that would disappear if he could only show its implausibility. “For food?” he asked.
The other shook his head. Svir wondered if Jolle were his real name. Profirio was certainly an alias, since it had a distinctive Upcoast flavor. “Well, then what does he want to kill us for?”
Jolle spoke a single word. “Golems.”
Svir looked blank.
Jolle stared at them for a moment. Then he spoke to Tatja. “There’s really only one of you, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve looked.”
“Tough,” Jolle commiserated. He waved at Cor and Svir, and Tatja replied, “Fingers.”
“Hmm,” said Jolle, “perhaps I should have, too.”
“But surrogate pain. Is there?”
“No. Ten trillion. Human too.” He nodded. “You’re it and foxily burnt.”
Tatja smiled shyly.
Svir’s jaw dropped. What were they talking about? Occasionally Tatja would carelessly address him in this fashion, but his blank look had always forced her to be silent or to make sense. Now she had found someone on her own level, and there was no need for “redundancy.”
He was about to ask for a translation, when Jolle said, “Excuse me Minister Hedrigs, Miss Ascuasenya. If you’re going to be in on this, you should know what’s going on. I just assumed from the way you worked together that you… Perhaps golem is not the right word, but what shall I say? Have you ever heard this term?” He made a
