‘Nomads will be in this area tomorrow,’ said Talaban. ‘We do not have much time.’ . ‘Surely that is why we brought soldiers,’ said Ro.
‘Indeed it is, Questor. We have no Avatar soldiers. If the nomads come in strength we will be outnumbered ten to one. My Vagars are armed with conventional weapons only. They will not withstand a heavy assault.’
‘Of course they won’t,’ snapped Ro. ‘I said at the start that we needed Avatars. On an expedition as important as this it is hard to credit that it could have been refused. Surely the empire would not have been weakened by allowing us true men and zhi-bows?’
‘This was not intended to be a war party, Questor. The General was specific about that. Any complaints you have should be taken up with him upon our return. However, since we are speaking frankly, you should be aware there are fewer than fifty zhi-bows still in operation.’
‘Fifty? That is a disgrace,’ stormed Ro. ‘Why only last year the General assured the Assembly there were over three hundred such weapons.’
Talaban leaned back in his chair. ‘Questor Ro, I am aware of your great skills, and I know you spend much of your time in research. But surely the eastern revolt did not entirely escape your attention. Six thousand tribesmen? The zhi-bows swung the battle, but most were exhausted. We did not have the power to feed them. Hence this expedition.’
Questor Ro absorbed the information. ‘It did not escape my attention, as you put it, captain. Few events escape my attention. However it seems a criminal waste of resources to allow our main defensive weapon to be exhausted by one petty revolt.’
‘With respect, you are not a soldier, sir. Without the bows we would have been overrun in the east. That would have encouraged the other tribes to join in the revolt. The cities would have fallen.’ Questor Ro was about to argue, but Talaban raised his hand. ‘Enough of this, sir, for it is now history. Our task is to replenish the energies of the chests. Can it be done?’
‘I need two days, captain. I believe Communion is near.’
Talaban fell silent. ‘Do not tell me what you believe,’ he said, at last. ‘Tell me what you know.’
The man is insufferable, thought Ro. He took a deep breath, calming himself. ‘Some of the rods have picked up faint emanations. I believe … I know … that with adjustment I can hone them to the pyramid. Once I have done so we will draw on the power and feed the chests.’
Talaban’s dark eyes fixed to Ro’s gaze. ‘Be sure, sir, for I will have to risk the lives of my men and the security of this vessel. Be very sure.’
‘Only these facts in life are sure, captain: the sun rises and sets and lesser beings die. Give me two days and we will power the six chests.’
Talaban looked long and hard at the smaller man. He did not like him, and had no reason to trust him. And yet… The power of one full chest would recharge every zhi-bow in the city and keep them charged for up to five years. The dragon would breathe fire again.
‘You will have your two days,’ he said. ‘But get your men back to the ice tonight. They can work under lanterns.’
* * *
Talaban stood on the balcony deck behind his cabin and watched the Vagar team scurrying about on the ice. The bald blue-bearded figure of Questor Ro moved among them. ‘Make me smile, him,’ said Touchstone. Talaban considered the comment.
‘He’s a man from a lost time,’ he said, at last. ‘I both admire and pity him.’
‘He faces the wrong way,’ said Touchstone. Talaban smiled.
‘For him the past is golden, the future barren. What else can he do but strive to recreate what is gone?’
‘He could live. Now. Read the stars. Sire small sons.’
‘How old are you, Touchstone?’
‘I took breath when the red wolf ate the moon. Twenty-four summers back.’
‘Questor Ro was more than four hundred summers old by then. And he had lived all those centuries in Parapolis, the greatest city ever built. He was part of an empire three thousand years old. Ships like these sailed the oceans without need of wind. No grotesque masts, no bulging sacks of filthy coal. And then, one day, the sun rose in the west, and the seas rushed up to greet it. Parapolis was engulfed, the people swept away. Those that survived, like Questor Ro and myself, journeyed back to Parapolis. But the stars had changed, the earth had tilted, and it was bitter cold. All the trees had died – frozen in a single night. In one day the invincible cities of the Avatar had perished. And every day since the land is buried further beneath the ice. One mathematician calculated that 90,000 tons of fresh ice a day gathers over the old empire.’
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