[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
legs. The reptile stood up. With the lions joining in, they became a shifting in-and-out sequence of fluid bodies and startling colors. The first dance ended with one woman riding the tiger and a man leading the reptile by a short halter. Kiril couldn't break his eyes away. He expected disaster and carnivorous reprisal at any instant. As the curtains closed the crew of the Trident crossed their arms and slapped their palms against their biceps. Kiril and Barthel mimicked the applause. A grin covered the Khemite's face, and his eyes sparkled like a child's. The chandeliers lighting the hall tinkled and quivered slightly. Kiril felt his neck hair prickling. A low, inaudible vibration passed through the floor and tables. The hall was suddenly quiet. Behind the curtains the sounds of scuffling and growls interrupted the silence. There were no quakes on Hegira. There were no records of quakes except on the Obelisks; it was assumed they were plagues visited upon the First-born in moments of hubris. But very clearly the palace lights were swaying, and the floor sustained its subsensuous murmur. The King and Queen stood up hesitantly, and a retinue of guards surrounded them. A man dressed in flowing, shiny green robes passed along one side of the hall with two lackeys in red following, each carrying bowls of incense. They left the hall. The reptile poked through the curtains and stood on the apron of the stage, uncertain and file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt (33 of 77) [5/21/03 12:35:57 AM] file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt unwilling to jump into the audience. A trainer dressed in black came out and led it backstage again. Its tail swished back and forth like a cat's under the curtain. Barthel crouched wide-eyed by the table. The captain ordered his crew to be seated. Outside, it had been dark for an hour and a slight drizzle was falling. The watch on the Trident felt the tremor as a singing in the hull. Water rippled from the shore, and the logs of the bund creaked. Bar-Woten walked up the ladder from the engine room and went to the port side to stare out into the dark. He could see nothing but the patient gleam of the fire doves and small, fitful glows of disturbed animals in the water. He squinted his eyes, looking directly north. A hand span up from the horizon, something dimly flickered, and it wasn't a fire dove. It was in the same vicinity as the Weggismarche Obelisk -- could, in fact, have been the top of the spire -- and it suggested heat lightning on a warm summer night. Its flicker sent sympathetic flashes across the sky like messages between gods. Suddenly, from across the sea, it was daylight. To the south the glow was dull gray and listless, but in the north the day was full and bright. Bar-Woten saw the Obelisk clearly, a line of white drawn from the sky down, its top lost in the sheet of daylight glow. It was no longer vertical. With clocklike slowness it changed its angle. The tremble that made his feet ache and his head throb was a much-reduced and distant effect. The Obelisk was tilting and falling. He was enough of a seaman now and had studied the charts enough to know that the fall of anything of such size would create havoc along that distant sea and coastline. The result would be more quakes, and something he had never imagined until now, but knew was inevitable. The sea would rise from the collision of world and spire like an unleashed monster. He knew instinctively it would carry itself to Golumbine and beyond. He had no idea how fast such a vibration could travel through water or the land beneath, but it would be rapid. He ran to the poop deck and toid a cabin boy to take a message to the captain. As the boy ran to the gangway and crossed to the shore, the Ibisian saw the final moment of the fall. In awful silence the spire dropped below the horizon. The daylight flickered and bunked out. With agonizing awareness of his ignorance, Bar-Woten tried to calculate how long they had. He had learned enough about basic physics in the last few months to make a guess -- it would be measured in hours instead of minutes -- but how many? Sound traveled through rock faster than through air or water. In a half hour the crew and hundreds of Golumbines were running along the bund and docks. The captain boarded without ceremony and issued a call to general quarters. "We're taking the ship out to sea," he shouted. Sails were rigged and steam was brought up. The boilers protested the rapid heating by creaking and pounding. In another half hour the ship was ready to cruise at one third out of the harbor. The Golumbines followed its example, hauling their boats ashore if they were small enough or following the Trident out to sea. Bar-Woten watched the barges and outrigged clippers following in their wake. In the wavering glow of lamps mounted along the sides of the boats, he saw the faces of sailors working at oars and rigging or simply waiting, eyes north and mouths wide. When the engines were up to full steam he turned his deck gauge over to another sailor and went to find Kiril. The Mediwevan was stowing gear with a dozen other men. Bar-Woten helped them, and as they worked he asked Kiril what he had read about big waves and the First-born. "They were called tidal waves," Kiril said. "That's about all I know. But we don't have any tides here -- I'm not even sure they were caused by tides on Earth." He shook his head. They'd never seen really big waves except those caused by a storm at sea, such as the waves on the beaches in Mures-Werd. "If the Obelisk fell -- " "It fell!" Bar-Woten said firmly. "Then we probably won't survive." "What are they going to do on the island?" "Head for the highest hills they can find. Or behave as people usually do and be washed out to sea. I don't know! The captain warned them, but he doesn't know what he's talking about any more than the rest of us." The Trident was four kilometers northwest of the island when the captain decided the water was deep enough. The sails were furled, and all the ship's hatches battened and bolted. The bow was swung about in the direction of the Obelisk, and the boilers cooled. The excess methane in the tanks and fire chamber was blown out the rear through valves. All compressed gas tanks were double sealed and anchored to the deck plates and beams with thick rubber-coated chains. file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt (34 of 77) [5/21/03 12:35:57 AM] file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt It was quiet. The crew secured themselves below decks to stanchions and bulkhead hooks, using slipknots in case they had to abandon ship. The Trident made her usual share of ship noises. The water lapped against her steel hull. An hour and a hah7 after the fall the distant island hummed and wailed like a bottled demon. The deck watch and the captain and officers on the bridge observed through binoculars. Trees cast off their leaves like dogs shivering water. From the north they could hear a wind rising. It sounded like a moaning woman. In the dark, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |