Elizabeth. That was most impolite. And it won’t work.
Shame. “It was an impulse, a social error I apologize for. In our world, no metapsychic would dream of probing without invitation unless placed in a threat situation. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You’ve been discomposed by the portal.”
Wonderful dreadful pitiless one-way portal! “It’s more than that,” she said, sinking back into the chair. She did a swift tour of her mental defenses. Up and fairly secure, rawness crusting over, familiar patterns reasserting.
“Back on the other side,” she said, “I suffered a serious brain injury. My metafunctions were obliterated in the regeneration process. It was thought that the loss was permanent. Otherwise”, she gave it mental underlining, “I never would have been allowed to cross into Exile. Nor would I have wanted to come.’
We are most fortunate. Welcome from all Tanu.
“You’ve had no other operant metas come through?”
“A group of nearly one hundred arrived abruptly some twenty-seven years ago. I’m sorry to say they were unable to adapt to our local conditions.”
Caution, caution. Wall-up. Elizabeth nodded. “They would have been fugitive rebels. It was a sad time for our Galactic Milieu… Are all of them dead, then? Am I the only operant in Exile?”
Perhaps not for long.
She braced herself on the table, rose and walked closer to him. His amiable expression changed. “It is not our custom to enter lightly into another’s private space. I request you in courtesy to withdraw.”
Polite regret. “I simply wanted to look at your golden collar. Would you take it off so that I can examine it? It seems to be a remarkable piece of craftsmanship.”
Horrors! “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. The golden torc bears a weight of religious symbolism among us. We wear it as long as we live.”
“I think I understand.” She began to smile.
PROBE.
Elizabeth laughed aloud. Now you must apologize Creyn!
Chagrin unease. Regrets Elizabeth. You will take some getting used to.
She turned away. “What will become of me?”
“You’ll go to our capital city, rich Muriah on the White Silver Plain. It lies in the south of this Many-Colored Land. We’ll have a wonderful welcome for you there among the Tanu, Elizabeth.”
She spun around and met his eyes. “Those that you rule. Will they welcome me, too?”
Caution. “They will love you as they love us. Try to suspend judgement on us until you have all of the data. I know that there are aspects of your situation that trouble you now. But have patience. You are in no danger.”
“What happens to my friends? The people who came through the time-portal with me?”
“Some of them will be coming to the capital. Others have already indicated that they prefer to go elsewhere. We’ll find good places for all of them. They’ll be happy.”
Happy ruled? Unfree?
“We do rule, Elizabeth, but kindly. You’ll see. Don’t judge until you see what we’ve done with this world. It was nothing, and we’ve transformed it, just this little corner, into something marvelous.”
It was too much… her head began to throb again and vertigo came. She dropped back into the soft cushions of the bench. “Where, where did you come from? I know every sentient race in our Milieu six million years into the future, coadunate and non. There is no people resembling you, except for humans. And I’m certain you’re not of our genus. Your mental pattern is different.”
Differences similarities parallels star whirlpools in countless numbers to the uttermost limit.
“I see. No one in my future time has managed intergalactic travel. We have not yet been able to supersede the pain barrier of the necessary translation. It rises geometrically with the increase in distance.”
Mitigant.
“How interesting. If it were only possible to transmit information about that back through the portal.”
“We can discuss this later, Elizabeth. In the capital. There are other possibilities even more intriguing that will be made clear to you in Muriah.” Distraction. He fingered his gold necklet and at once there was a tapping on the door. A nervous little man in blue stepped into the room and saluted Creyn by placing his fingers to his forehead. The Tanu gave a regal gesture of acknowledgement.
“Elizabeth, this is Tully, one of our trusted interviewers. He’s been talking to your companions, discussing their plans for the future and answering their questions.”
“Have all of them recovered from the passage?” she asked. “I’d like to see them. Talk to them.”
“In good time, Lady,” said Tully. “All of your friends are safe and in good hands. You mustn’t worry. Some of them will be going south with you, while others have chosen to travel to another city in the north. They feel their talents will be appreciated more up there. You’ll be interested to know that caravans will be leaving here this very evening, going in both directions.”
“I see.” But did she? Her thoughts were muddled again. She threw a tentative query at Creyn, which he parried neatly.
Trust in me Elizabeth. All will be well.
She turned back to the little interviewer. “I want to be sure of saying goodbye to those of my friends who are going north.”
“Certainly, Lady. It will be arranged.” The little man put a hand to his necklet and Elizabeth looked at it closely. It seemed identical to the one worn by Creyn except for the dark color of the metal.
Creyn. I want to put this one to the question.
Disdain. He is under our protection. Would you distress him in premature attempts to satisfy curiosity? Questioning would distress him very much. Perhaps permanent harm. He has little data. But do as you wish with him.
“Thank you for telling me about my friends, Tully,” she said in a gentle tone.
The man in blue looked relieved. “Then I’ll just run along to the next interview, shall I? I imagine Lord Creyn has already answered all of your questions about, um, general matters.”
“Not quite all.” She reached for pitcher and glass and poured some of the cold drink. “But I expect he will, in time.”
CHAPTER FOUR
No sooner had the blue-clad interrogator left the room than Aiken Drum was testing the wooden door, discovering that it was locked, and doing something about it.
He used the tough glassy needle of a leatherworking fid to probe the slot where the brass latch bar came through until he was able to lift a concealed pawl that was preventing the notched bar from moving. Opening the door carefully, he saw the device on the other side that activated the locking mechanism. A tiny stone from the floor served to jam it.
He pulled the door shut and went creeping down the hallway, passing other closed rooms where he assumed his comrades from Group Green were incarcerated. He wouldn’t let them out yet; not until he looked things over to see how he might take advantage of this strange situation. There was something powerful as well as peculiar at work here in the Pliocene, and it was obvious that it would take more than the simple-minded schemes of Stein and Richard to con the local yokels.
…Look out!
He darted into one of the deep window bays that overlooked the castle’s inner courtyard. Whipping out his chameleon poncho, he hunkered down in the shadows and tried to blend inconspicuously into the stone floor.
Four sturdy guardians, led by a man in blue, went dashing down the corridor in the direction from which Aiken had come. They never looked in his direction and in a moment the reason became apparent.
There was a roar of rage in the distance and a muffled crash. Heavy blows began to ring against the inner side of one of the reception room doors. Aiken peered from his alcove in time to see the group of castle lackeys cringe away from the first door at the head of the stairway. Even from his viewpoint more than ten meters away, Aiken could see the slabs of thick oak tremble from the force of rhythmic smashes.