“The contrivance,” said Manacle in a pompous, didactic tone which reminded me a little of Gamesmaster Gervaise, “was used by our forefathers when we came to this place. Evidently the length of the journey, or the time it took, did not allow persons to travel while awake and alive in the ordinary way. No, the fleshy part was preserved, as you see, for storage. They can be kept forever, these bodies, or so the techs say. However, when resurrected, these bodies would have no memory, no intelligence¾all of that is wiped clean by the process, so we are told. So a record was made. A record containing all thought and memory, and this record was embodied in the form you see. Blues. That is what we call them. We make a few hundred each year to use in the Calling Home ceremony. Then we give them to the Gifters to use in trade.”
“I have seen them,” said Huld. “Kept in cold chests. Why are they kept cold?”
“Well¾I am not certain. Perhaps one of the techs would know. The techs make the gameboards, after all, don’t they Flogshoulder?”
“I will ask a tech. Father. It is not something which interests me. Hardly in our field, you know.” He went away to return in a moment with an old, pleat-faced man with tired eyes. “Tech, why are the blues kept in cold chests? And are the gameboards made here? You have a word for it, I think. Micro-micro something?”
“Microcircuitry, Supervisor. The gameboards are made with microcircuitry. To make the Gamespieces move. They are kept cold because they are supposed to last longer that way. The manuals say they break down very rapidly if they get warm.”
“There are manuals?” Huld, greedy-voiced. Too greedy-voiced, for Manacle gave him a sharp look before taking him by the arm to guide him away. “So. Interesting, isn’t it, Huld? And now you need worry about those two no more. Their bodies will be stored in the caves, used in the ceremony, then put into the caves once more and forever. Their blues will go into some Trader’s wagon to be given to some Gamesmaster as a giftie. I sometimes wonder if they feel anything, those bodies. They seem very dead.”
Huld, pretending a disinterest I knew he did not feel, “How are the bodies and the blues joined together again?”
“Oh, my dear fellow. Who knows? I wouldn’t know. We haven’t done that in a thousand years. There may be a book about it somewhere, but I doubt the machinery to do it even works. Why would one care?” They went out the way they had come, still chatting, leaving Mavin and me behind, hidden among the sighing machines. When they had put a little distance between them and us, I hissed at her.
“One of us must go after them. One must stay here to see where they put Windlow and Himaggery. Which?”
She thrust me away. “You must go after Huld. I have no Didir to protect my mind, and I cannot keep up this rhyming and jiggy song forever. You go. I will stay. I will meet you in that place they held the meeting, soon as may be. Go!” And I went. I went in a fever of impatience and anger, anger at myself, at Huld, at the silly, fatuous Manacle and his idiot son. If we were to save Himaggery and Windlow now, we would have to restore them to wholeness, put their two halves together, body and spirit, and who knew how to do that? The books? What books and where? I was reaching the end of my ability to slink and sly about, the limit of my self-control. It was Didir and Dorn who saved me, who soothed me into sleep like a fretful child and held me there, barely ticking, while they followed Huld, Manacle, Shear and toothy Flogshoulder deeper into the labyrinth while Huld sought information. “These books, Manacle. The ones which tell about rejoining the bodies. Have you seen them? Read them? What did they say about … the blues?”
“I don’t recall seeing anything about them in books. But then, I recall what my father said about them. A pattern, he said. The pattern of a personality. Yes. That was well put. The pattern of a personality. In ancient times, of course, the pattern was reunited with the body when both had reached their destination. It is this process we reenact during the ceremony. We don’t really do it, of course. Some of the younger men act the part of bodies, and we use the blues symbolically. It’s only a ritual, but very impressive for all that. But then I’ve told you all this before.”