Chalker, Jack L. – Rings 1 – Lords Of The Middle Dark

rings—they had not been appointed to those positions by the Master System

because of longevity or family breeding. They had earned their way with the

blood of others, mortgaging their souls in the process. Men like them, perhaps

better than them, had reached the point where mass genocide and mass suicide

were taken for granted. Would humanity be better off in the hands of five evil

people? Would his own people, whose way of life was spiritual and fulfilling, be

among the first to be penned up, perhaps extinguished, while others again

slaughtered the buffalo and deer and elk into near or total extinction just for

sport?

Oddly enough, he decided that the attempt to find and use the rings was worth

the risk. If it could be done or if he could just spread the knowledge of the

rings so that someone, some day, could and would do it, he should try.

Cloud Dancer was not truly correct. Master System, whatever it was, had not

coalesced all evil into itself; its evil had been entirely taught to it by

humankind. It was not an evil creation, just one that had done its job and then

kept on doing it. It was evil now, the ultimate evil, because it had gone on

past its time and threatened to go on forever. By locking the people of Earth

into their own past, it had rendered them powerless to destroy themselves. And

it had done more. It had taken the huge masses of people who could not be

supported by such a system or controlled by it and scattered them among the

stars. He hadn’t mentioned that part to Cloud Dancer, because she thought the

stars were spirits, and the concept of billions of humans was beyond her. Still,

it was exactly so.

Even if Earth again reached a capacity for self-destruction, humanity would not

die. So many worlds out there were populated now that humanity would probably

live—in some form or another—as long as the universe lived. Yet those worlds,

too, were held down, suppressed by the Master System. It treated them all as it

had treated its birthworld, and worse. Humanity could not be destroyed, and that

was the objective of the system as its human creators had envisioned, but

neither could it grow— ever.

Better that men be in command, even if they were far more evil than the machine.

Evil men had come and gone throughout history and caused great suffering, but

they had come—and gone. Others, some better, some worse, all different, had

replaced them, but civilization had grown. He must loose the Lords of the Middle

Dark from their chains, even if they devoured him and all that he held dear. He,

as a historian, understood that better than most.

But first there was that pipsqueak pirate and dictator over there in that lodge,

chuckling to himself and filling his fat belly. If he could not deal with

Roaring Bull, he deserved no better than serving the lowest of the lords of

evil. After Moxxoquan, Emperor of the Council of Nations, what was a Roaring

Bull?

He felt suddenly invigorated, although the smells of fine food denied him

attacked his stomach. He would not be stopped here. He had a thought that was

appropriate to the occasion, although it was out of place here and to one of his

lineage, traditions, and spiritual beliefs; a thought that only a scholar who

had been given the keys to knowledge forbidden to the masses of humanity could

have in such a time and place:

Why, this is merely Limbo; I stand only at the gates of Malebolge and have nine

circles to go before I am permitted to Dis. What warrior could dream of facing

great Satan in his lair when he is trapped in Limbo?

He scouted the village, strutting as if he were its master, yet all eyes averted

from him, all contact forbidden. They watched him in furtive glances and

wondered if he was mad or perhaps would make a bargain.

But he would make no bargains with demons, he knew. He would not be trapped

forever in Limbo, as they all were.

A number of traders were stopping at the landing: perhaps six or more canoes,

some double and lashed together to carry all the more. The summer was ended, and

they were going home. Two large warriors guarded the path and eyed Hawks

nastily, so he went to one side and waited for the traders to come up. They were

of many nations, but he was able to make out their conversations as they came up

from the landing and went into the village to pay their respects—and perhaps

more as well—to Chief Roaring Bull.

I do not like this one bit, so many of Council without respect going about the

land, one remarked to another casually in a tongue Hawks understood.

I do not know what they do here, the other responded. That Crow man and that

black Caribe bitch. I would gladly give my life if I could first be permitted to

cut their arrogant throats. They had better not come into my tribe!

They were looking for someone in particular, the first one noted. I hope that

if they find him, he feels as you!

You will have more two or three days south, another put in. Up on a bluff on

the west shore. They tried to be hidden, but they are amateurs, soft in the ways

of living free. They were there when I came up. A bunch of them digging holes

and sifting dirt. Their ways are inexplicable.

That all interested him, and he remained to hear as much new gossip as he could.

He didn’t know who the southbounders were referring to. A Crow and a Caribe?

Council Security, certainly, at least the Crow.

They were hunting someone. Him, perhaps? Had they found the body up there, or

had the Val just pulled the alarm when it saw that Hawks, the only Council

member around not searching with it, had vanished south? The fact that a Caribe

had ventured this far north was unnerving, even though she would make the

hunters easy to spot. She had to be the one who’d lost the courier, the one told

to go up there and not come back without a dead body and a destroyed briefcase.

With her career and future on the line, she would pull no punches, and for the

knowledge of the rings, Master System would allow a lot of leeway.

The others to the south were more interesting. Archaeologists, certainly, from

the description. This was a region of the mound builders, whose structures

remained miraculously preserved in spite of the prior huge population here and

the massive destruction that had followed.

The archaeologists would try to blend in, but somewhere close they would have

modern equipment, which Hawks might be able to use to advance his cause and

cover his tracks.

All right, he said to himself. You now have a destination, pursuers, and a

potential for escape. If you can just find something to eat and get a little

more rest, you might just save your neck.

Saving humanity would come later.

Neither Hawks nor Cloud Dancer got much rest. In anticipation of action, he just

couldn’t sleep; she quickly discovered that the stables were busy places in the

daytime and managed to catch an hour here and an hour there. He admired her

greatly for her seeming lack of concern. He tried to draw on her courage.

The trouble was that they didn’t have enough to go on to work out a definite

plan. They knew what they had to do, but how it was done would be strictly

improvised, and they were depending a lot on the overconfidence and incompetence

of the men set to watch them.

It wasn’t until late that evening that they had enough privacy to discuss their

plans. Cloud Dancer had effectively scouted and memorized the village layout the

night before, but he had to describe to her in detail the interior of Roaring

Bull’s main lodge as he remembered it. He also told her about the two security

people who were probably looking for them.

I would prefer more time to study this, but I have been fearful all day that

they would arrive here, and they will certainly be here within another day. I

think we must go as soon as we can.

It is better to act than to dwell, she responded.

He had feared a clear night, but the mists rolled in off the rivers and hung

heavy on the village, and through it a light, cold rain fell, turning the whole

area thick with mud. The dampness was uncomfortable; at times like this he

appreciated all those inoculations against colds, flus, and pneumonia, and he

worried a bit about Cloud Dancer.

By early morning the conditions were appalling but very much to the advantage of

the pair. The sleepy guard was back, but he’d retreated inside to keep out of

the rain; when Cloud Dancer slipped silently from the stable and peeked in the

small hut across the way, she found him out again and snoring loudly by a small

fire. The watchdog looked up, yawned, and went back to sleep. She checked for

the guard down the street as well, but he was gone, almost certainly inside by a

fire himself, warming his insides with fire liquids. She saw no trace of other

watchers.

When she returned for Hawks, he was already numb from the cold of the stable and

somewhat wet, since the roof leaked, so actually moving more than made up for

the additional wetness outside. The mud, however, was both deep and slippery,

something which worked against them, but would also be a problem for pursuers.

Cloud Dancer’s silent friend peered out the doorway nervously and was given a

whispered response. She motioned them up and in with a hand gesture. The warmth

of the kitchen felt good.

The woman was indeed tiny, although her proportions showed the results of being

a cook. Not that she was fat, but her behind and breasts were definitely a lot

fatter than they were supposed to be. She had long, stringy black hair with

traces of gray, although she didn’t look all that old. Her eyes were ancient.

She was barefoot and had on a simple skin and cloth dress which looked as worn

as she did.

Time was pressing, but he tried his entire repertoire of American languages and

found each met by a shaking of the head. She had certainly learned some Illinois

just by being there, but he didn’t know that language. Since so many of the

plains languages were related, as were another group from the southwest, he

decided that Cloud Dancer had probably been correct: The mute woman was from

either the south or the east coastal area. How she had wound up in the hands of

this band was probably an epic story but not one she would ever tell.

She had gone to some risk for their sake, that was clear. She had two knives for

them, one a hunting knife and the other well balanced for throwing, and somehow

she’d managed to get a spear. She also had a worn leather shoulder bag that

contained some provisions such as small apples, nuts, and dried fruit. It was

more than he had expected, but both he and Cloud Dancer understood the

obligation their acceptance incurred. In a place this small it was unavoidable

that such help would be traced back to the slave woman, whether they succeeded

in escaping or not. The punishment would be very slow and agonizing torture

until death released her, in public, as an example of what happened to those

slaves who betrayed their masters.

She must come along, you know, he told Cloud Dancer.

I knew you would think so. I could not love a man who would decide otherwise.

It is also not likely we can return her to her people. The Hyiakutt accepted

returned or escaped prisoner-slaves into the tribe, but many tribes considered

becoming a prisoner or slave to be an act of unworthiness and tantamount to

death. Also, she had clearly been here a long time; she would have no future and

few, if any, friends if she did return. I also could never keep a slave.

Come on and let us go, Cloud Dancer said irritably. It was I who involved her

in this and agreed to her help. I understood then that you would have to marry

her, too. Come. If we do not make good this escape, then none of this matters.

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