Umbo wanted to shout with laughter. In that simple look, Rigg had as much as told the officer he was a worm, not worth talking to. And yet his expression had not changed at all.
On impulse, Umbo started to cast his net of speeded-up time around Rigg.
Rigg turned to him and said, “No.”
Umbo stopped.
“No what?” the officer demanded.
Rigg said nothing.
The officer turned to Umbo. “What did he tell you not to do?”
Umbo shrugged.
The officer seized him by the shoulder, his grip fiercely painful, as if he meant to drill a hole through his shoulder with his thumb. “What did he tell you not to do, boy?”
“He was thinking of running,” said Rigg.
“Oh, you can read his mind?” said the officer.
One of the tower guards approached them gingerly. “If you’ve found them, can we let people continue to leave the tower?”
The officer turned to him and said harshly, “Don’t bother us!”
The general turned his head to the guard, ignoring his own subordinate from the People’s Army. “There’s no reason to block them now. Thank you for helping us.”
The officer showed no sign that the general had just contradicted him.
The tower guard bowed deeply. “Thank you, your excellency.”
“The People’s Army has no ‘excellencies,’” snapped the officer.
“Sadly enough,” said the general, “that is true. Guard, if you wouldn’t mind, could you send a man or two into the tower to search for a tall man who looks like a former soldier? I saw him with these two, and when he saw Mr. Cooper, he headed back into the tower, pretending to look for something.”
Umbo was impressed. Maybe generals got to be generals because they were smart, or at least observant.
Then again, the general seemed to carry himself and turn his head and speak exactly the way Rigg was acting. When Rigg told Umbo no, he had spoken with the same kind of calm authority the general used when speaking to the guard. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed-yet there was no anger or emotion in it, so that it didn’t provoke resentment. When Rigg spoke, Umbo had simply obeyed, without even thinking of arguing or doubting or even hesitating. How had Rigg learned how to do that? He had never been in the army. But maybe it was something he learned from the Wandering Man. He had the power of command.
What a fine thing it must have been, to be raised by the Wandering Man. And what had Rigg’s father been planning for him? Not just the jewels, not just a royal name that apparently belonged to someone who was supposed to be dead, but also this air of command, all the knowledge of finances Rigg had, his understanding of how to bargain with adults-Rigg’s father must have trained him in all of that.
Had he foreseen this moment? Wouldn’t this make him one of the heroes, to be able to see into the future? Umbo had never heard of a hero with such a power, but wouldn’t that be a mighty gift from a god? All that Umbo and Rigg had been able to do, between them, was reach into the past-and even that was a rare gift, and hard to do.
I will have to learn how to do it alone.
“I’ll take the boys with me back to their boat,” said the general. “We’ll wait there while you see to getting the man called Loaf.”
“That’s his name,” said Umbo.
The general looked at him steadily.
“It’s not a nickname or anything,” said Umbo. “In his native village, that’s how they name people. His wife’s name is Leaky.” Umbo had no idea why he had felt the need to speak up, but it had been an irresistible impulse. And now the tiniest trace of a smile played at the corners of the general’s mouth. Umbo looked to Rigg to see if he had said too much, but Rigg’s face was calm and showed nothing.
“By all means,” said the general. “Wassam, the man’s name is ‘Loaf,’ so there’s no need to demand a realer- sounding one. Bring him to me unquestioned and unbeaten, please.” With that the general reached out his hands toward Umbo and Rigg. Without needing a bit of explanation, they each took one of his hands and he walked with them back toward the city.
He held their hands lightly. But when Umbo thought-just thought-of running off, he could feel the grip tighten on his hand.
Can the man hear my thoughts?
No, thought Umbo. I must have tensed up just a little when the idea of running crossed my mind. Or maybe he noticed that I glanced off toward that canebrake.
Meanwhile, Mr. Cooper shadowed their steps. “He’s going to lie to you,” said Cooper. “He’s full of nothing but lies and poses!”
“And yet,” said the general mildly, “he hasn’t told me a single lie today.”
“That’s because he hasn’t said a thing. You notice he doesn’t deny anything I said!”
“Mr. Cooper,” said the general gently. “He doesn’t regard you as worth his notice, that’s all.”
“Yes!” cried Cooper. “That’s the arrogance I was talking about!”
“The arrogance that we might expect,” said the general, “if he really is of the royal house.”
“Oh, right, I’m sure you know how impossible that is!”
“Wouldn’t your time be better spent, Mr. Cooper, remaining behind to identify the man called-no, the man whose name is Loaf?”
Again, there was that subtle air of command, and Cooper turned and began to walk briskly back toward the tower, muttering, “Of course, should have thought of it myself,” and then his voice faded out.
With Cooper gone, the general’s demeanor changed. “Well, my young friends, how have you been enjoying the city of O?”
“It’s very big,” said Rigg.
The general chuckled. “You’re from upriver, of course, and this is certainly the first real city you’ve encountered. But I can assure you that there are fourteen cities larger than O within the People’s Republic. No, big as it is, O’s real claim on the attention of the wise is its great age. The artifacts of an earlier time, whose wisdom we have not yet recovered, and may never recover.”
Rigg nodded. “You mean the globe of the world inside the tower?”
The general walked in silence for a few moments, and it occurred to Umbo that perhaps the general had never realized that the thing was a map of the world both outside and inside the Wall. “The whole tower is a miracle,” said the general, finally. “The ribs of stone up inside the tower seem to be structural, but they aren’t.”
“They aren’t holding up the walls and the dome?”
“The stone pillars are not attached to the walls in any way. They hold up the lights and the globe, but there was an earthquake once, more than three thousand years ago, and three of the pillars collapsed inside the tower. The great chronicler of that time, Alagacha-which is as close as we can come to pronouncing his name in our tongue-reported that as they restored the pillars, they discovered that there was no way to tie them to the walls. It’s as if the tower was there before anyone thought to add the stone ramps and pillars, the lights and the globe.”
Rigg did not seem impressed. “What does that have to do with the great age of the city?”
“Nothing at all. Except that legend has it that the tower was here before the city of O, and nothing else.”
“Then the tower is very old,” said Rigg.
And Umbo thought: How can you arrest us and then talk to us as if we were children at school?
But Rigg had said his life with his father was like this-walking along, discussing things. So maybe Rigg found this natural. Maybe the general was already some kind of father to him.
Well, he’s a father to me, too, thought Umbo. The difference is that to me a father is a punisher, unreasoning and unstoppable, not someone to chat with about history.
“In every other city, wherever someone digs to lay the foundation of a new construction, the workmen turn up stones and bones-old walls, old floors, old burial grounds. Everything is built on the foundation of something else.
