Suggest that they blather quicker. One other thing.
Yes, Djan Seriy?
I am switching on all my systems again. All those that I can, at least. Those I can’t reinstigate myself I’ll ask the Liveware Problem to help with. Always assuming, of course, that it is familiar with SC procedures.
You are not being ordered to do this, Batra replied, ignoring what might have been sarcasm.
Yes, I know.
Personally, I think it’s a wise move.
So do I.
“Didn’t you notice, sir? Never breathed, not for the whole time we were in there, save for when the glittery thing was there. When it wasn’t, she didn’t breathe at all. Amazing.” Holse was speaking very quietly, aware that the lady concerned was only a couple of rows behind them in the shuttle. Hippinse was a row in front, seemingly fast asleep. Holse frowned. “You quite sure she’s really your sister, sir?”
Ferbin only remembered thinking how still Djan Seriy had seemed in the strange tube of corridor back on the little wheel-habitat. “Oh, she is my sister, Holse.” He glanced back, wondering why she’d chosen to sit there, away from him. She nodded at him in a distracted way; he smiled and turned away. “At any rate, I must take her to be,” he told Holse. “As she, in return, must take me at my word regarding the fate of our father.”
Oh yes, I can feel you doing it, the drone sent. She’d just told the machine she was re-fanging herself, switching back on all those systems that she was able to. Batra happy with that?
Happy enough.
I wonder how “fanged” the Liveware Problem is? the drone sent. The machine was lodged between Anaplian’s neck and the seat. Its appearance had changed again; when they’d arrived on the 512th Degree FifthStrand facility it had morphed its surface and puffed out a little to look like a kind of baton-drone.
Oh, I think it might be quite fanged, Djan Seriy sent. The more I’ve thought about it, the more strange it’s come to seem that the ship described itself as “Absconded”.
That struck me as odd at the time, too, Turminder Xuss sent. However, I put it down to elderly ship eccentricity.
It is an old ship, Anaplian agreed. But I do not think it is demented. However, certainly it is old enough to have earned its retirement. It is a veteran. Superlifters at the start of the Idiran War were the fastest ships the Culture had and the closest things to warships that were not actually warships. They held the line and took a preponderant share of the punishment. Few survived. So it should be an honoured citizen. It should have the equivalent of medals, pension, free travel. However, it is describing itself as Absconded, so maybe it refused to do something it was supposed to do. Like be disarmed.
Hmm, the drone replied, obviously unconvinced. Jerle Batra does not clarify its status?
Correct. Anaplian’s eyes narrowed as the few immediately available systems she could control just by thinking about it came back on line and started checking themselves. So it has to be an old SC machine. Or something very similar.
I suppose we should hope so.
We should, she agreed. Do you have any more to add?
Not for now. Why?
I’m going to leave you for a bit, Turminder. I should go and talk to my brother.
24. Steam, Water, Ice, Fire
Tyl Loesp found the Boiling Sea of Yakid a disappointment. It did indeed boil, in the centre of the great crater that held it, but it was not really that impressive, even if the resulting steams and mists did indeed “assault the very vault of heaven” (some ancient poet — he was glad he couldn’t remember which one; every forgotten lesson was a victory over the tutors who’d tried so hard, under the express instructions of his father, to beat the knowledge into him). With the wind in the wrong direction all the Boiling Sea had to offer was the sensation of being in a thick bank of fog; hardly a phenomenon worth walking out of doors to sample, let alone travelling for many days through frankly undistinguished countryside.
The Hyeng-zhar was far more striking and magnificent.
Tyl Loesp had seen the Boiling Sea from the shore, from the water in a pleasure steamer (as he was now), and from the air on a lyge. In each case one was not allowed to get too close, but he suspected even genuinely dangerous proximity would fail to make the experience especially interesting.
He had brought what was effectively his travelling court here, establishing a temporary capital in Yakid City to spend a month or so enjoying cooler weather than that afflicting Rasselle, allow him to visit the other famous sites — Yakid was roughly at the centre of these — and put some distance between him and both Rasselle and the Hyeng-zhar. To put distance between him and Oramen, being honest about it.
He had moved his departure from Rasselle forward only a day or so to avoid meeting the Prince Regent. Certainly it let the fellow know who was boss and this was how he’d justified it to himself originally, but he knew that his real motive had been more complicated. He had developed a distaste for the youth (young man; whatever you wanted to call him). He simply did not want to see him. He found himself bizarrely awkward in his company, experienced a strange difficulty in meeting his gaze. He had first noticed this on the day of his triumph in Pourl, when nothing should have been able to cloud his mood, and yet this odd phenomenon somehow had.
This could not possibly be a guilty conscience or an inability to dissemble; he was confident he had done the right thing — did not his ability to travel round this newly conquered level, as its king in all but name, not attest to that? — and he had lied fluently to Hausk for twenty years, telling him how much he admired him and respected him and revered him and would be forever in his debt and be the sword in his right hand, etc. etc. etc., so it must simply be that he had come to despise the Prince Regent. There was no other reasonable explanation.
It was all most unpleasant and could not go on. It was partly for this reason he had arranged for matters to be brought to a conclusion at the Hyeng-zhar while he was away.
So he was here, some rather more than respectable distance from any unpleasantness, and he had seen their damned Boiling Sea for himself and he had indeed seen some other spectacular and enchanting sights.
He was still not entirely sure why he had done this. Again, it could not be simply because he wished to avoid the Prince Regent.
Besides, it did no harm anyway for a new ruler to inspect his recently conquered possessions. It was a way of imposing himself upon his new domain and letting his subjects see him, now that he was confident the capital was secure and functioning smoothly (he’d got the strong impression the Deldeyn civil service was genuinely indifferent to who ruled; all they cared about was that somebody did and they be allowed to manage the business of the realm in that person’s name).
He had visited various other cities, too, of course, and been — though he had taken some care not to show it — impressed by what he had seen. The Deldeyn cities were generally bigger, better organised and cleaner than those of the Sarl and their factories seemed more efficiently organised too. In fact, the Deldeyn were the Sarl’s superiors in dismayingly many areas, save the vital ones of military might and martial prowess. The wonder was that they had prevailed over them at all.