would be snatched from death by the Taloid god before completing the fall.
Apparently nobody had ever been snatched yet, which the Taloid priests contended
was proof that they’d never issued a wrong verdict.
Clarissa located the cliff on a series of reconnaissance pictures of Padua and
its vicinity which she retrieved from the Orion’s databank. It formed the end
face of a ridge of craggy hills that descended almost to the city from a more
distant range of higher mountains. Even more interesting was that the geography
of the area seemed to make its own weather; Every set of pictures taken since
the Orion’s arrival, along with the accompanying sets of meteorological data,
had shown a formation of apparently permanent low-altitude methane clouds only a
thousand feet or so above the clifftop. That changed Clarissa’s assessment of
the odds considerably. “We could come in low along the ridgeline from the
mountains in the rear, and probably get up inside those clouds right over the
cliff without even the Taloids knowing we were there,” she said. “They’d
obviously be restricted to visual sighting since they don’t have anything like
radar. If the chance presented itself, yeah—maybe we could pull a quick grab and
be back up again before they could react. Okay, you’ve sold me, Karl. I’ll give
it a try.”
“But no stunts or miracles, right?” Abaquaan said. “We just go straight down and
straight up again.”
“Too right,” Clarissa agreed. Her tone left no room for dissent. “Just a quick
grab—no tricks and no clowning.”
“I agree, I agree,” Zambendorf said, nodding. “All I’m interested in is getting
Moses out if we can. I’m not asking for anything else to be changed. The
operation is still scrubbed, and the lander goes back to Genoa with its crew and
the Druids as agreed . . . except that we time it to coincide with our going in
at Padua. Okay?” He cast his eyes anxiously over the faces around him.
“Okay, boss—I’ll buy it,” Fellburg said resignedly.
“I’m already in,” Drew West reminded them.
Abaquaan nodded his assent. “Aw, what the hell . . . We’ve scraped through
everything else so far. Okay, let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it,” Vernon repeated.
Zambendorf looked at Vernon uncertainly for a second. “You don’t have to get
involved, you know. There’s still plenty of room in the lander going back to
Genoa.”
“I gave Moses his tablet, so it’s my fault as much as anyone’s that he’s where
he is.” Vernon shook his head. “No, if there’s a chance we might be able to get
him out again, that’s where I want to be.”
Zambendorf, apparently having half expected it, nodded briefly, and left the
matter at that. “Fine. So let’s get our things moved into the flyer and let Andy
and his crew get on with whatever needs doing in the lander. Then let’s get
together again one hour from now and have another look at the layout around that
cliff. There won’t be any chance for an actual rehearsal for this performance,
I’m afraid, so we’ll have to make do with the next best thing—a lot of imaginary
ones.”
36
WEARING A LONG, HOODED CLOAK THAT HE HAD BARTERED FROM a peasant for his helmet
and body armor, former private Sallakar pushed his handcart into the city’s
Central Square and selected a spot for himself in one of the normally busy
comers of the market area, between a plating-salt vendor’s stall and a wheelskin
dealer. The square, however, was quiet for this time of late-bright, and many of
the merchants had already closed down. Never mind, Sallakar thought—all the more
business for those like himself who were still on the street to trade. And
besides, his reason for hurrying to arrive ahead of the main body of the army
was to enjoy a few hours of profitable monopoly before the competition appeared
and drove down the prices. He threw back the cover of the cart to reveal a
collection of rock and ice fragments, pieces of parachute silk, burned-out
firework cannisters, and other oddments, and unfurled a sign which read:
GENUINE MERACASINE HOLY RELICS
GET YOUR ENLIGHTENER MIRACLE SOUVENIR HERE
“Genuine relics, direct from the scene of the Meracasine miracles,” he shouted.