Not that Ruddle fancied herself any great philosopher. She could barely follow the intricacies of the ideas the combatants expounded upon—the origins of the cosmos, the gradations of corporeality, the multiplicity of worlds, the dynamics of poetry. But she did have a vested interest in knowing whether Lirht would remain ruled by the Cafmor or be ceded to the Regent of Kump. Those Kumpen had notions of medical ethics that Ruddle had no desire to see implemented here at Hvov Memorial—unless, of course, she could be persuaded of their worth by sufficiently eloquent debate.
But then, that was the major bone of contention being hashed out in tonight’s debate. In principle, the war of words had already ended, and the Regent was claiming victory. But the Cafmor and the Lirhten Council rejected the claim. It all came down to an issue Ruddle felt more qualified to comprehend: was the winner in a debate the one who proved one’s case more thoroughly and substantially, as Lirhten believed, or the one who adhered more skillfully to the traditional rhetorical form, as Kumpen held to be true? No doubt the Regent had debated beautifully, improvising in perfect twelvefold stanzas without a single syllable stressed out of place. No doubt his use of traditional formulas and invocations had been flawless. But the Council was led by reformists who held that the traditional elevation of form was shallow and decadent, that a leader needed to prove actual knowledge and practical ability, not just mastery of conventional formulas. The Cafmor’s arguments had been more informed, more weighted with facts and deduction; but to the Kumpen authorities, that was irrelevant, for her form had been so sloppy and informal that they perceived it as an insult to the Regent himself.
The question Ruddle was dying to hear tested, therefore, was: How would the respective voters decide who won the debate about which set of standards for debate were more valid, when they would be judging that debate using different standards? The recursion involved was dizzying, and Ruddle was mentally assembling a couple of stanzas about it to amuse her cousins with.
Of course, it wouldn’t be amusing if the debates broke down entirely, for then the Regent might actually send in troops. Ruddle wouldn’t put it past those Kumpen. It would certainly make things busier at the hospital. Why, lives might even be lost. The thought preoccupied her as she compiled the fatality record for the day. None of the deaths today had been due to violence, but deaths from disease and accident were still all too common, even with the new antibiotic medicines—medicines that a Kumpen regime would force them to give up in favor of homeopathy and spiritual healing, no doubt.
As a result of her morbid mood, Ruddle was extremely alarmed when a loud roaring sound came from outside, accompanied by cries of panic. She rushed to the ambulance lot out front, following the ruckus, pushing past the people who were fleeing inside. She expected to see the worst, some kind of war machine from Kump, maybe an airship delivering troops.
What she saw instead was…undreamt of in her philosophy. An angular object of some sort, smaller than an airship but not by much, was descending from the sky, making a roaring, whining noise as it did so. Bright, multicolored lights, even more vivid than the electrics that had replaced gaslights during Ruddle’s adolescent years, shone from the object, half-blinding her. What she could make out of the object’s shape was bizarre, its contours alien to her experience. “Where did it come from?” she cried to an orderly who was heading inside, grasping his arm.
“Out of the sky! Like a spirit-wain!”
“Don’t be absurd! There’s a rational explanation for this!”
“I’ll be happy to debate that, ma’am,” the orderly told her, “some other time!” He pulled free of her grip and retreated within.
Ruddle had to admit, she could understand the perception of this thing as a spirit manifestation. It had an eldritch quality to it, she realized as it slowly settled to the ground. The way it crushed the gwikwhen it landed left no doubt that it was heavier than air, yet still it had been able to hover without any visible propellers and only the stubbiest of winglike protrusions. Perhaps her childhood beliefs in the spirits deserved another examination after all.
The noise and wind from the bizarre craft subsided, and Ruddle dared to step forward and take a closer look. It was larger than she had estimated, intimidating in its looming bulk and arrowhead contours. And did she catch a glimpse of some massive form moving inside? It was hard to see through the transparent portion mounted on the high upper surface of the hull.
But then a hatch opened on the side— slidingopen under its own power, as though with a will of its own. Maybe the craft did indeed have its own spirit. Ruddle ducked behind a tree, though it afforded little cover.
Then itemerged. It was huge, terrifying—a massive golden-brown thing, walking on two legs but with a long, horizontal body and heavy tail like an elkruh. But unlike an elkruh’s gentle blue-furred countenance, this thing’s head was as long and angular as the craft it had emerged from, its enormous mouth filled with countless razor-sharp teeth. Ruddle was too frightened to move.
As the monster came out farther, Ruddle realized it was carrying another creature on its back. This creature was built more like a person, even a female, except it was a giant—Ruddle estimated it was nearly half again a real woman’s height—and had no evident clarfelbelow the chin. She (the pronoun seemed reasonable enough to use) also had a pronounced belly, almost like a pregnant woman.
Another giantess emerged behind the monster, walking under her own power. This one was roughly the same size but with no abdominal bulge; still no clarfel, though. She placed a hand on the other giantess’s flank, perhaps to stabilize her on the monster’s back, though it reminded Ruddle of a doctor’s gesture of comfort to a patient. The walking giantess held something in her hand that gave off lights and a high warbling sound, waving it in the direction of the other giantess and studying it intently as though it were some magic talisman. Was this how spirits tended each other’s illnesses? Or was she reading too much of her own experience into something truly unknown?
The hideous, toothed monster had been looking around the ambulance circle, and now its eyes locked on Ruddle. She jumped, and as it began to stride toward her, she scrambled backward, hoping to retreat into the hospital. But she promptly backed into the side of an abandoned ambulance. And there was no time to try to get inside the cab before the monster reached her. Terror overwhelming her, she sank to the ground, her back against the ambulance’s large middle wheel. She prayed to every spirit she’d stopped believing in as the monster loomed over her and opened its slavering maw.