Chapter 10
Foreknowledge
For the first few minutes, the sensation of flying was overpowering, and Rigg could not stop watching the forest and foothills pass underneath them. Rugged ground that he had covered with such labor now looked like gentle cushions of treetops, soft as clouds.
And within the depths of the forest, he could sense the webs of animal paths, and his own path brightly human among them, until they passed over the places where he had doubled back, and then there were no human paths at all.
Only a few minutes, and they had covered a day’s hiking.
Only a few minutes more, and he was tired of looking. So quickly did he get used to flying. Just as he had quickly gotten used to the velocity of the cart through the tunnel to the buried starship. Sensations that were unimaginable only an hour before were now to be taken for granted.
But Rigg did not stop looking out the window, because it was better than looking at the others.
And then he realized that he had to face them. Was he planning to avoid their gazes forever? So he turned to them and said something safe. “Does any bird ever move this fast over the ground?”
“The fastest bird on Garden can fly as fast as sixty kilometers per hour, unless you count the speed of a stooping hawk,” said Vadesh. “But that’s not so much flying as plummeting.”
Param raised her eyebrows. Umbo rolled his eyes. As if to say, Vadesh is such a know-it-all.
Rigg thought of the food in his pack. “Does anyone want some of the meat I smoked?”
They glanced at each other, embarrassed.
“This vehicle is equipped with a food synthesizer,” said Vadesh. “I had it well-stocked with nutrients, and everyone was able to get what they asked for.”
The meaning of “food synthesizer” was clear enough, but the concept struck Rigg as vaguely nauseating. He took out some of his meat and began gnawing at it. The others looked away, as if he were doing something disgusting. Well, they’d been glad enough to have such fare a few days ago.
“You know,” said Olivenko, “that everything we eat is disgusting.”
“Rotten vegetable matter, rotten animal corpses, and assorted feces and other bodily excretions combine in the soil,” said Rigg, as if he were back at Flacommo’s house being examined by scholars to earn the right to use the library. “From that collection of nutrients, plants draw what they need, combine it with water, air, and sunlight, and grow leaves and branches and fruit, which are consumed by us or by animals that we consume.”
“It sounds delicious,” said Param.
“The food synthesizer apparently skips the plant stage,” said Umbo.
“On the contrary, it skips the rot stage,” said Vadesh. “It takes the nutrients from any plant matter and grows whatever molecular structure is required—flesh or plant.”
“Takes all the fun out of it,” said Umbo. “All the farming.”
The conversation was only mildly amusing, but it served its purpose: It allowed them all to converse again, without having to deal with their conflicts in the immediate past.
Now that Rigg could look at them normally, he saw something that had changed in the time they’d spent apart. “Loaf has his eyes back,” he said.
“The facemask seemed to thin out over his eyes,” said Olivenko. “Only we’re not sure whether we’re seeing his actual eyes, or eyes that the facemask grew there in order to fool us.”
“He could see when his eyes were covered,” said Umbo. “He never tripped or stumbled and he always knew where we were.”
“Could have been by hearing and sense of smell, even touch—sensing the wind of our movements,” said Olivenko.
“I take it you’ve already had this discussion,” said Rigg.
“This quarrel, you mean,” said Param. “We don’t know anything but they argue about it.”
“He looks better with eyes,” said Rigg. “In both senses of the word ‘look.’ ”
That was worth a mild chuckle, and they dropped the subject. The whole time, Loaf’s gaze remained steadily with Rigg.
The flyer came to a landing at the crest of a large grassy hill. It was no mere meadow—the grass extended as far to the east as the eye could see, with only a few stands of trees providing a sense of distance and scale. Dust clouds rose from some distant herd of animals. Apparently they were very near the Wall, though not so near that any of them felt any effect from it.
What bothered Rigg was the crowd of people gathered on the far side of the Wall. “We have observers,” said Rigg.
They all got out of the flyer, including Vadesh, and stood beside it, looking at the crowd of at least a thousand people, probably more, who were arranged on a grassy slope beyond the Wall. Many of them jumped up and waved their hands wildly, so the motion could be seen across the width of the Wall.
“They knew we were coming,” said Umbo.
Because they all looked at Vadesh, the expendable put up his hands in a very human gesture of protest. To Rigg, it looked like his father telling him that he was about to refuse him a request. “It wasn’t me,” said Vadesh. “I didn’t tell any of the other expendables that I was coming.”
“I thought you told each other everything,” said Rigg.
“Eventually, yes.” Then Vadesh added, “Or at least I tell them. I think they are not all candid with me.”
“Nevertheless, these people seem to have known we were arriving, and they’re here to greet us,” said Olivenko.
“Or they’ve come to rush through if we bring down the Wall,” said Rigg.
“Bring it down,” said Vadesh. “This wallfold needs people.”
“People to wear your happy little facemasks?” said Param.
Vadesh made no answer.
Rigg was scanning the distant crowd, not with his eyes—the distance was too great to pick out individuals with any clarity—but with his path-sense. “They didn’t all come from the same place,” he said. “They’ve come from many places, and some of them very far away. They must have been traveling for days.”
“Well, I don’t want to cross here, then,” said Olivenko. “Who knows what they have in store for us?”
“Feels like a trap,” said Umbo.
“They seem to be waving to us,” said Param. “Cheerfully. Beckoning.”
“Laughing,” said Olivenko.
“You can’t possibly hear any laughter,” said Vadesh.
“But you can,” said Olivenko. “And I can see enough of their body movement and attitudes to see that they’re on a frolic. I don’t think they have any hostile intent.”
“Or that’s what they want us to think,” said Umbo.
“No danger,” said Loaf.
Everyone turned to him at once. Loaf had not spoken since he was possessed by the facemask weeks before.
“No weapons,” said Loaf, still looking across the grassy expanse of the Wall.
“Is this you talking?” asked Umbo. “Or the facemask?”
“Me,” said Loaf.
“The facemask would make him answer the same way,” said Param.
Loaf reached up a hand and rested it comfortably on the facemask, the way a pregnant woman might rest her hand on her swollen belly. “Husband of Leaky, soldier, innkeeper, it’s me,” said Loaf. “But yes, the mask is happy to have me say so. The mask is glad that I’m speaking now.”
“Why haven’t you spoken before?” asked Umbo, still suspicious.
“Nothing to say,” said Loaf.
Rigg laughed. “Yes, it’s Loaf,” he said. “Same sense of humor. Or at least it’s as much of Loaf as we’re likely to get. I don’t suppose you can take off that thing now?”
“Don’t want to,” said Loaf. “I see so clearly now. I see all the faces, all the hands, what they’re wearing. No weapons. All unarmed. And happy, interested, excited.”