began waving toward where the rest of Henry’s party were waiting with the mounts
in one of the nearby ground-vehicle sheds. “What in hell’s going on?” Lang
demanded.
“It looks to me as if they’re taking off,” Seltzman said bemusedly. “I guess the
meeting just adjourned.”
“Sharon, find out what’s happening,” Giraud instructed.
Somehow Sharon managed to sustain a dialogue of sorts while the Taloids paced
back and forth gesticulating wildly at one another, while mechanical steeds and
more Taloids appeared outside the loading doors and Henry continued to show all
the signs of throwing a fit. “They’re going back to Padua,” she said at last,
shaking her head dazedly. “Something about a public execution that Henry doesn’t
want to miss.”
“Execution of whom?” Seltzman asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s the messiah.”
“Can we let that happen?” Giraud said, looking uneasily at Lang.
Lang’s expression was stony behind his faceplate. “It’s their business and their
customs. Who are we to interfere?”
There was a short pause. “Are you sure you’re not really aiming at Zambendorf?”
Giraud asked uneasily.
“I’ve given you my decision,” Lang said,
Konrad Seltzman met Giraud’s eye for a split second, then shifted his gaze to
Sharon. “Did they say exactly when?” he asked her.
Sharon glanced at the computer’s conversion of the Taloid time measurement that
had been mentioned. “About twenty hours from now.”
35
THE OUTER DOOR OF THE MIDSHIPS AIRLOCK OPENED ON THE HIJACKED surface lander
hidden in the valley two hundred miles north of Padua city, and the suited
figures of Zambendorf and Andy Schwartz, the lander’s captain, came out onto the
extended stair-head platform and descended to join Drew West and Clarissa, who
were already waiting on the ground. Then, walking two abreast and guided by
hand-held flashlamps in the darkness, the melancholy little procession made its
way through the labyrinth of steel and concrete shapes to the crude shanty-camp
that the Taloids had made for themselves. Abaquaan, Fellburg, and Price, who had
gone on ahead a while earlier, were waiting at the camp with Lord Nelson and
Abraham, the leader of the Druids, and the rest of the Taloids gathered around
on all sides. The time had come for Zambendorf to tell the cast officially that
the show was wound up and they were being paid off, to wish them good luck, and
send them back home.
“We’ve told them they won’t be going to Padua,” Abaquaan said. The team had
agreed on the storyline that Moses, his main task of preventing the invasion of
Genoa now successfully accomplished, had been called elsewhere to attend to
other things. It was hardly a satisfying end to their venture, but nobody had
been able to suggest anything better.
Zambendorf nodded inside his helmet. “How are they taking it?” he asked.
“Not as badly as we thought they might,” Abaquaan replied. “They’re disappointed
all right, but not disillusioned. They seem to have rationalized some way of
coming to terms with the situation in their own minds.”
“I don’t know … A true believer is a true believer anywhere, it seems,”
Zambendorf sighed. “Oh well, bring the transmogrifier here, would you, Otto. I’d
like to say a few words to them before they go.” The plan was that the surface
lander crew, having ostensibly been released from forcible detainment, would fly
to the Terran base at Genoa to return themselves and the vehicle to the
authorities, and take the Taloid contingent home at the same time. As to what
should happen after that, opinions were divided; Abaquaan, Fellburg, and
Clarissa felt that the team had no alternative but to follow in the flyer and
turn itself in, whereas Zambendorf and Drew West wondered if there might be some
way of extricating Moses from his predicament first.
Indeed this was modesty and graciousness of spirit that was truly worthy of
noble beings, the Renamer—formerly Captain Horazzorgio —thought to himself as he
listened to the enchanted plant speaking the Archangel’s thoughts. So much had
been accomplished in so little time —a new faith founded; a village saved; the
whole sect of Waskorians at peace now with Carthogia; the Kroaxian tyrant
checked and his army scattered—and yet here the Archangel was, expressing regret