Blade was relieved at not being filled with arrows and musket balls, but far from satisfied. He needed an intact flier for his plans, and if the three fliers were left anchored in the open lake, they would be sitting ducks for the first Conciliator patrol flier that thought of checking out Tengran. And that patrol might arrive within a matter of hours.
The Tengrans landed them on the shore of the lake rather than in the town, then took Nilando and Stramod off to the island for further discussion. Having no idea of how long he would have to wait, and being more or less resigned to being unable to affect the proceedings while he was cooling his heels in the forest along with the other refugees, Blade decided to put the time to some use by speaking to Captain Pnarr about a flight north.
He chose to speak to Pnarr rather than one of the other pilots because, apart from knowing the captain better than any of the others, he was more impressed by his competence, his coolness, and his ability to take «fire, danger, and sudden death» more or less in his stride. The man was a professional. But that still did not make it much less of a gamble to speak to him in terms of aliens-though the alternative was winning Pnarr's support under false pretenses, and Blade was totally unwilling to do that.
As it worked out during the hours of sitting under the trees, the gamble paid off. Pnarr had not already concluded that aliens were lurking in the polar wastes, but he had concluded from the number of fliers that had vanished in the area that somebody or something was working to make it highly dangerous to enter. Aliens, if they existed, could hardly affect their chances of coming back safely that much-or so Pnarr said. Blade hoped the pilot wasn't whistling in the dark, and turned to a discussion of how best to approach the town elders for permission to make the flight. Stramod could permit them to go, but only the town elders' permission would make it possible to use the fliers.
In fact, the town elders approached them late in the afternoon, summoning them out to the island. When they reached the town meeting hall, they found Nilando sitting among a dozen men and women, not all of them literally elderly, by any means, around a smoke-grimed table. He rose to greet Blade and Pnarr as their guards escorted them in.
The looks the «elders» threw at Blade and Pnarr were filled with curiosity now, rather than hostility or suspicion. Apparently Nilando, who sat among them as though it were his birthright to do so, had been doing much talking during the day, and to good purpose. One thing he had apparently done was to persuade the elders to dispense with the formalities Blade knew such bodies usually loved, and plunge directly into business. The head of the council, sparrowlike in appearance, was also sparrowlike in the briskness with which he opened the discussion.
«Your people,» he said, «will be received among us, for Brother Nilando has convinced us that you are indeed friends. But they must at once withdraw into the forest and do their work there, that they may not be found in Tengran if the enemy's patrols come down on us.»
One of the women interrupted. «That will not save the town if the patrols do come. They will burn it for the sheer joy of seeing the flames.» She looked sullenly at Pnarr; Blade gathered she had been one of the last-ditch opposition to aiding the refugees.
«No, but it will save these people from perishing in those flames. And if they do indeed have ideas of how to fight the Ice Dragons and the weapons for such fighting, then we must save them.»
«Well and good,» said another man. «But what of their fliers? We cannot very well take them into the woods. And if they lie where they are much longer-«
Pnarr grinned and took up this perfect cue. «We're going to do something about that, Blade and I,» he broke in, ignoring the glare at the interruption. «We think we ought to take one of the fliers north to find the Ice Dragons' home. There must be some place nearer than the glaciers themselves where they stay between raids. If we can find it, we can go there and kill many of the Dragons and Masters at once.» That was the cover story they had worked out together. Mentioning the Ice Master would have been dangerous; mentioning aliens not only dangerous but futile.
Now the elders were turning to one another, discussing the idea, all except Nilando, who stared at Blade with a gaze that seemed to strip away the cover from the story and penetrate a long way toward the core of truth. Eventually the discussion petered out and the Sparrow looked at Blade and nodded.
«A wise idea. We have never had a flier before, but now that we do, it is well to get some use out of it before we must destroy it. What you need and what we can give, that you shall have.»
That was all, except that Nilando drew Blade aside as he was leaving the chamber. The Treduk leader's wide-set gray eyes bored into Blade's as he said,
«There is more to this than you are telling the council, is there not?»
Blade nodded.
«You expect to find perhaps more than Ice Dragons during your search?»
Again, Blade had to nod.
«Then the High Spirits of the Hills be with you. I do not know whether I should hope that you find what you seek, because I suspect that if you do, you will not be returning. And a man such as you, with the strange wisdom of a Graduk and the strength and courage of the Treduk, is someone we cannot spare without loss. Rena and I will both mourn you.» They clasped hands, and then Nilando was striding away, head up and shoulders back.
Blade and Pnarr still had many hours' work before they could take off. The fliers had to be moved to an at least slightly less exposed position in the mouth of a creek; town boats towed them there. The fuel had to be transferred to the flier intended for the mission; Pnarr took care of that, scrambling all over the fliers like an energetic cockroach, sweating, swearing, reeking of fuel and his bare chest and black trousers turning sickly green with the fumes and droplets. Survival gear had to be loaded aboard-rafts, emergency rations, tents, winter clothing, weapons, and so on; Blade took care of that. By nightfall everything necessary had been done, and it was time for both Blade and Pnarr to lie down in soft beds in a forest-screened lakeside cottage and get a sound night's sleep.
Pnarr did indeed lie down and sleep soundly the night through, but Blade's sleep was troubled and tormented by nightmarish visions of the aliens. At times they were insects, man-sized and multi-legged, waving bristling antennas and clicking mandibles and claws in his face, hideous things in garish shades of blue and red and slimy purple. At other times they were enormous bear-like things, but lumbering about on eight legs instead of four, with hairless ears sprouting from far back on their heads and long tentacles waving from sockets in their massive shoulders. And at times they were not even living creatures, but giant silver-shimmering cubes, with a fringe of jointed crab-like limbs sprouting from their lower edges, on which they moved and with which they reached out toward him, beeping and whistling all the while like a radio set gone berserk. Now that the long preliminaries were over and the moment of what he hoped would be a decisive thrust at the heart of the problem had come, the long strain and worry had finally caught up with him. It was only toward morning that he was finally able to get to sleep. It seemed only an hour or so beyond that before Pnarr shook him awake and led him out to the boat waiting to take them to the flier.
The sun was just breaking the horizon in a blaze of orange and luminous pink when the boat bumped against the flier's fuselage. The two Union people who had spent a damp and chilly night mounting guard aboard it greeted Blade and Pnarr, then eagerly scrambled down into the boat and shoved off, no doubt dreaming of warm beds and hot drinks. Pnarr pulled the main hatch open, threw in their gear, waited while Blade climbed in, then pulled the hatch shut behind them and sealed it. The pilot then went forward to the cockpit, while Blade headed aft to make a quick inspection and stow the gear. He had just passed the beamer turret when Doctor Leyndt stepped through the door from the rear cabin.