The True Game by Sheri S. Tepper part two

“Do as well as what, Manacle?” It was Quench, leaning against a shiny panel, boring into Manacle with eyes which could have burned holes in stone. “Why have you not Called Home, Manacle? That is what you are supposed to have done. Call Home. I wish to hear what Home has to say!”

“Oh, Quench. Quench, you monster. What are you doing here? Why have you come? You are disrupting the ceremony. Get out of my way. I have to tell them.”

“Tell them what? That you did not Call Home? That there was no message from Home? That there has not been any message from Home for¾for how long, Manacle? How long, you little, insignificant dribble. How long?” He shook Manacle, waving him like a flag. “Tell me, or I’ll break your bones.”

“Don’t be a fool, Quench. You know it’s only a ceremony. We all know it’s only a ceremony. The message from Home is only a ritual. We all know.”

“We don’t all know. We all may suspect, but we don’t all know. How long has it been. Manacle. I want to know. Now!”

“My … my great-grandfather’s time. Not since then. Not since then to Call Home. And no message received from Home long before that. The machines stopped working, Quench. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They just stopped working.”

“So it’s all a mockery and a deceit. All of it. The monster watching, and the Faculty¾all of it.”

“No, no, Quench. You know that isn’t true. It’s worth something, worth preserving. You mustn’t, mustn’t …”

“I mustn’t, mustn’t I? Manacle, for the sake of those poor fools down there, I won’t drag you out on the platform and expose you for what you are, an empty sack of nothing. I’ll leave you to go to them, Manacle, with your lies and your ceremonial message. You! I remember a time when being Capan meant something. As for me, I’m off to the Council.”

“What¾where¾what are you going to do?”

“I’m leaving, Manacle. I’m leaving with all the techs who want to leave with me, and that means almost all of them. We disabled the power machine for the boots this morning. You can’t hold them, and they won’t be held. We’re going. Some of the younger men may go with us, and if not¾well, be that as it may. I’m sorry for you all, Manacle, but there’s nothing I can do to save you, and I won’t perish with you.”

And he was gone, clattering down the spiralling stairs. Mavin and I could hear him, down and down until the sound faded, and I knew he had come to the cargo space at the bottom and gone out through it. Manacle was crying before us, great tears oozing down his face. The singing outside had reached its climax once more. He gulped, made a little heartbroken sound, then wiped his face upon his sleeve, leaving long red welts upon it from the harsh gold trim. Unconscious of this he stepped to the door, straightened himself, and opened it. As Mavin and I slipped away to follow Quench, we heard his voice crying to the world, “Message, message from Home.”

* * *

12

Huld Again

* * *

WE ARRIVED AT THE CARGO SPACE near the bottom of the tower¾the “ship” ¾only moments before Manacle himself came down. He wore a forced, fixed smile as he met Flogshoulder and Shear near the ladder. I heard Shear say, “Where are the techs? They should be here to unload the bodies and take them back to¾” and Flogshoulder interrupting, as always, with some inconsequentiality. Manacle did not hear either of them.

He laid hands upon Flogshoulder and said, “Quiet, my boy. Be still. Now listen to me, for all your life is worth. Remember the room where we were yesterday? The room which controls the defenders? Good. That’s a good boy. Now, I want you to go there. I left it unlocked for you. I want you to press the lever down. Just do that, my boy. Then come back and tell me.” He patted Flogshoulder, almost absentmindedly, as he turned to Shear with that same fixed smile.

“Shear. There’s a minor emergency. Nothing we can’t take care of, but I think the Committee should be advised. Can you go among the celebrants and suggest that we move the celebration indoors? Hmm? And tell the Committee members we will meet them in the Committee room. Have you seen Huld? No. Well, that was more than I could hope for, perhaps

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