“Town ahead,” said Claver.
Quait could now see clearly a network of ancient roads and piers and stone walls. The precipice that might contain Haven fell behind.
The town was reasonably intact. Blackened buildings still stood. The network of streets was easy to make out, and there was a large industrial complex on the north. “Looks like an old power plant,” said Claver. “Probably shut down before the collapse. If we can make it, we’ll be in good shape.”
Bluffs and trees were coming up fast. “Try to relax when we hit,” he added.
A road appeared beneath them, and swerved off to the east. They scraped the too of a hill and bounced throueh some treetops. As they broke free, Claver jerked away the rip-panel and the envelope collapsed with a sigh. The gondola landed hard and spilled its passengers into a field.
“We’re down,” said Claver.
“Orin,” said Quait, ‘flying is never going to catch on.”
29
They dragged the envelope and the gondola into a shed, collected their weapons, blankets, lamps, the rope ladder, and the rest of their supplies, and turned back toward the bay.
There was no sign of local inhabitants, no houses, no plowed fields. They found a road and followed it into the woods. Nobody talked much. They could hear the sound of the surf in the distance.
The road eventually faded out. But they could smell the water, and an hour later, as the sun went down, they broke out onto the shoreline.
They had fish for dinner and sat late into the night, listening to the long silences. Flojian was appalled to learn that Claver had sold individual steam engines rather than the process to marine manufacturers. In a society without patent laws, this had amounted to giving away the secret for the price of a few units. The buyers were now in the business of making their own, and he was effectively cut out. “It doesn’t really matter,” Claver said. “I have all the money I need. What disturbs me is that they overpriced the boats and people blame me. The river-men think I got rich on their backs.”
“When in fact,” said Flojian, “the manufacturers took the money.” He shook his head. “You need a business manager.”
Claver confessed that he was getting excited about what they might find tomorrow. “I’ve been trying to dismiss it as nonsense, and 1 still think it is. But wouldn’t it be glorious to find the Quebec? What a cap that would be for my career.”
Quait and Chaka took a walk in the woods. “Last night of the great hunt,” she said. “It’s hard to believe we’re really here.”
Moonlight filtered through the trees. It cast an aura around her hair but left her eyes in shadow. She was achingly lovely, a forest goddess who had finally revealed herself. Quait felt nineteen. “I have a suggestion,* he said. His voice was pitched a trifle higher than normal. He’d been practicing all evening how he was going to say this, what words he would use, where he would pause, and where lay stress. But it all vanished. “There’s a tradition,” he continued, “that a ship’s captain is authorized to perform weddings.” He felt her stiffen, and then melt into him. “I’ve talked to Orin. He’d be willing to do it for us. And I think this would be the perfect time.”
“Because the quest ends tomorrow?”
“Because we’re here tonight. Because I’m in love with you.” Because six people died in those tunnels and nobody knows how.
“Yes,” she said.
He had not expected so quick a reply. He’d rehearsed various arguments, how they would remember forever the night and the following day. Haven and their wedding, inextricably linked forever. How, regardless of the way things turned out, the journey home would be difficult and dangerous. (He hadn’t been able to work out why the wedding would make it less difficult or less dangerous, but it would sure as hell make it more endurable.) How there was no need to wait longer. Been through enough. They knew now beyond doubt that they would eventually be mates. That decision having been taken, why delay things indefinitely?
She drew his lips down to hers and folded her body into his. “Yes,” she said again.
Orin Claver was not a believer. Nevertheless, he surprised the Illyrians by showing no reluctance to invoke the Goddess as protector of the hearth.
“We are met on this hilltop,” he began, in the timeless ritual of the ancient ceremony, “to join this man and this woman.” The fire crackled in the background, and a rising wind moved the trees. As there was no one present to give the bride away, Flojian agreed to substitute for the requisite family member.
Claver’s white scarf served as Chaka’s veil. She was otherwise in buckskin. Quait found a neckerchief to add a touch of formality to his own attire.
Illyrian weddings required two witnesses, one each from the earthly and from the divine order. Flojian consequently was drawn to double duty, and stood with the invisible Shanta while his two friends pledged love, mutual faith, and fortune. When they’d finished, they exchanged rings which she had woven from vines and set with stones. Claver challenged any who had reason to object to come forward, “or forever remain silent.”
They glanced around at the dark woods, and Chaka’s eyes shone. “No objection having been raised,” said Claver, “I hereby exercise the authority held by captains from time immemorial and declare you husband and wife. Quait, you may kiss the bride.”
Flojian, sensing that the Goddess was preparing to depart, took advantage of her proximity to ask her to remember her servant Avila.
…A sheer wall rising about two hundred feet out of the water. We could see thick woods at the top…. There was a river on the north side of the bluff, and a pebbled beach….
They looked at their map some more, took bearings on the turn in the channel and the saddle-shaped formation that Knobby had described.
“I’d say that’s it,” said Claver.
They compared it with Ann’s sketch. “He would have been back that way,” suggested Chaka. A quarter-mile or so down the beach.
They stood on wet sand off to one side of the formation. “There’s the discolored rock,” Quait said, drawing a horizontal line in the air with his index finger. “The door.”
They all saw it. Flojian noted the position of a notched boulder on the summit. Chaka produced Silas’s journal and made the appropriate notation: SUSPECTED ENTRANCE FOUND. She dated and initialed it. When she’d finished, they hiked around behind the bluff and started upslope.
By early afternoon they’d arrived at the top. They laid out their gear under a spruce tree and peered over the edge. It was a long way down. The cliff face looked gray and hard and very smooth, save for occasional shrubs. Far below, whitecaps washed over rocks. Flojian looked for his notched boulder, walked a few paces along the summit, and stopped. “Right about here,” he said.
Gulls fluttered on air currents and skimmed the outgoing tide.
Quait nodded. “Til go down.” He was already reaching for a line.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Claver.
“Why not?”
He glanced at his own eighty-seven-year-old body, at the diminutive Flojian, at Chaka. “I know I’m in good shape for my age,” he said, “but I’m still not sure the three of us could haul you back up here if you got in trouble. Seems to me as if the muscle in this operation should be on top and not on bottom.”
There was no arguing the logic. “Who then?”
“Me,” said Chaka.
“No,” said Quait.
Claver nodded. “It makes sense. She’s forty pounds lighter than anybody else.”
Chaka looped a rope around her shoulders. “It’s not a problem,” she said.
“Absolutely not,” said Quait.
But Chaka never paused. “I’m a full member of this mission,” she said. “I’ve taken my chances along with everybody else.”