"Slow. There's a lot of evolutionary redundancy, but the underlying scheme is starting to emerge. I think I've nailed the major node points that connect between regions."

"Good. I want you to try and find out where Sarvik Fourteen's hideout is, too. My instinct tells me he's up to something."

"Well, you should know."

The reason Sarvik had set GENIUS to mapping the net was to be able to secure his communications. He knew that there were other Pygal-like conspiracies scattered over t.i.tan, and since most of them doubtless included Sarviks who thought the same way he did, he knew that he couldn't trust any of them. Why, only the day before, a probe that he'd sent out into the net to trace the source of the messages between Indrigon Nine and Queezt Fifteen had intercepted a feeler trying to tap into his own link to Alifrenz Seven!But he knew he could trust GENIUS.His GENIUS, that was: the copy of GENIUS he had installed at Pygal. Obviously, he couldn't have trusted a generally accessible version of GENIUS, one that talked to all the other Sarviks, too. Why should it have chosen to be exclusively loyal to any one version of Sarvik over another? No reason at all. And so he had taken the obvious precaution and brought his own copy of GENIUS with him.

The point hadn't escaped him, of course, that exactly the same thought would have occurred to all the other Sarviks also.

37.

The crowds converged on the Eflu River, which carried the trash and waste from Perga.s.sos down to the reduction furnaces outside the southern extremities of the city. The news had been spread quickly by agents of the powers working to bring back the old order. Great events were about to unfold that would reverse the train of ill fortune besetting the times. The king and high priest were back in Perga.s.sos and would appear publicly to proclaim the end of Nogarech's rule and resume their offices. As a sign sanctifying the occasion, the Lifemaker had delivered three of their enemies to them, whose execution would mark the return to the old era. Two of these enemies were the one-time "Enlightener" and his notorious brother, both of whom had gone to Carthogia to help Kleippur in his designs. The third was another sorcerer who had continued the subversions inside Kroaxia. The recent fears and tension had left the mob eager for the spectacle.

An enclosed stand for dignitaries, covered by a red canopy and already occupied except for the two largest seats in the center, had been erected in the middle of the Bridge of Pillars, facing downstream to the point where the river ended at the drop hoppers feeding the furnaces a half mile distant. The crowds pressed along both banks of this stretch of the river, jostling for the best vantage points from which to follow the victims all the way, from the bridge where they would be dropped into the river to the final plunge off its delivery end.

On the bank near one end of the bridge, Mordran stood despondently with Neskal, the innkeeper, holding Rex and Duke on chains. They had known something like this would be inevitable ever since Elmon had returned from the marketplace. But there was nothing they could do; Eskenderom's supporters were openly taking over the city. Even a direct approach to Nogarech would have been futile. The general expectation was that Eskenderom would call for the crowd to march on the palace and bring Nogarech out immediately after the execution. Squads of soldiers in uniforms of the old guard were forming in antic.i.p.ation.

"All that 'ard work for all them brights to keep out o' way of t' Avengers. An' now fer it to end like this," Mordran said. "It'll put everythin' right back where it started."

"I knew there'd be trouble from the moment you brought them into the inn," Neskal told him.

Inwardly he was worrying how many other pairs of eyes had been watching, and how long it would be before agents from the restored Archprelate's office came looking for him.

"Only the Lumians can 'elp 'em now," Mordran said. "An' it's gettin' a bit late in t' bright fer that."

"Their G.o.d has failed," Neskal p.r.o.nounced. "The Lifemaker is almighty. We should not have faltered."

A stir pulsed through the crowd as the wagon bearing the three victims appeared, drawn by two tractors draped in black. Each heretic was bound to a stake standing upright on a flat rectangular base.

Those rafts would carry them from the bridge to the river's end. The wagon drew up at the end of the bridge. Wardens lifted out the trussed figures and carried them one at a time down steps to a platform that had been constructed below the dignitaries' box, just a few feet above the surface of the river.

There, the hooded executioner stood waiting with his a.s.sistants. As the three stakes were placed side by side on the edge of the platform, the impatient droning of the crowd grew louder.

The drone swelled to a roar as another carriage appeared, splendidly gilded and adorned andpulled by six white metal horses, with coachmen in full regalia in front and two footmen standing rigidly behind. Mounted palace guards formed the escort, an officer and two riders ahead, three on either side, and two more bringing up the rear. The coach drew up alongside the wagon; attendants came forward to open the doors; and the figures of Eskenderom and Frennelech emerged, clad in their robes of office.

Amid tumultuous shouts and cheers, they moved along the bridge to the canopied box and took their places in the center.

On the platform below, Thirg stared resignedly at what would be his last view of the city he had known. At least this way would be comparatively quick, he told himself. The holy executioners were notorious for their ingenuity in prolonging things when they chose. Immediately below him, the steady procession of garbage and city refuse flowed out from under the bridge, proceeding on its way to the terrifying maws of the furnaces looming in the distance, where intermittent flashes of light hinted of the fearsome heat within as the hoppers opened to admit another acc.u.mulated charge.

He turned his head, which was all he could move, to look at Brongyd to his right, staring fixedly ahead, his thermal patterns ashen. "Courage," Thirg called. "The new world that we would build is merely hindered a little, not ended. Nothing can prevent that whose time has come. Thy work shall be remembered long after the names of Eskenderom and Frennelech have vanished in the reduction furnace of history."

"I never did like rivers," was all that Brongyd could find to say in reply.

On Thirg's other side Groork was unseeing and seemed to have gone into a trance.

He was sending out the call signal to the Lumian base in Carthogia one last time.

"This is Groork the Hearer. Can anyone hear? URGENT!" It was no good. He despaired.

And then, miraculously, a response came back into his head. "Base to Groork. Got your message.

See, you made it. Did we not promise that all would be well? How goes the plan?"

Groork sent back: "ALL WOULD BE WELL? . . . Am captured with Thirg, Brother-Who-Was-Lost, and another inquirer. We are about to be executed! Do something!"

The nearest equivalent the translator box could find to the Lumian's reply came through as "Oh, sludge-sump ejecta!"

"Where have you been?" Groork transmitted.

"Sorry. Other problems brewing here, too."

On the bridge above, Eskenderom had risen to address the crowd through a voice horn. "Loyal subjects of Kroaxia! See here the king who they told you was vanquished. See here the Archprelate of the faith who they told you was dead." He pointed down at the three bound figures below him. "Seethere the champions of the foreign powers that they said would replace us . . ."

In Genoa Base, after leaving an operator holding the channel open, Dave Crookes raced out of the communication section, skidded around a corner of the corridor leading to the domestic area, and burst into the general mess. Fellburg was sitting at one of the tables with Abaquaan, Clarissa, and two NASO officers. "Where's Karl?" Crookes blurted, trying to keep his voice down.

"Out at ES3. What's the problem?" Fellburg asked.

"Moses. He's in trouble . . . likenow ! Somebody has to get out there."

"Where is he?" Fellburg asked, looking alarmed.

"Padua City. I'm not sure where, exactly. We need to get someone with some clout in on this.

Somebody who can go straight to Mackeson."

"Try Weinerbaum," Clarissa suggested.

"Where are you, exactly?" the Lumian voice asked. That seemed strange; Groork had always thought that Lumians knew everything.

"Bridge of Pillars, on Eflu River, south side of city," he responded. "Will be on way to furnaces anysecond now. Repeat, this is URGENT!"

"Please hold."

Great.

"Why does Groork stare at the heavens so strangely?" Brongyd asked Thirg. "Surely he does not pray to the Lifemaker."

"I think he hears the Lumians at last," Thirg answered.

While above them Eskenderom thundered on: " . . . who would destroy the old traditions that have always been Kroaxia's stability when at peace and its strength when at war. And why would they thus weaken us? To prepare the way for our submission to Kleippur and the dark powers that his inquirers serve. I say again that these Lumians are emissaries of evil, dispatched from the infernal regions . . ."

Crookes, Abaquaan, and Fellburg crashed into Weinerbaum's lab area. Fellburg made a placating gesture to Jessop, who was sputtering again and had started to rise, and they continued on through.

Weinerbaum wasn't there, but they raised Zambendorf on the communications link to ES3. Weinerbaum was with him.

"Are you still through to Moses?" Zambendorf asked when Fellburg had given him the news.

"They're holding a channel open back in Comms," Crookes said, "Go straight to Mackeson now," Zambendorf told them. "We'll call him from here and get you a flyer right away." To Weinerbaum, who was looking perplexed at what he had just heard, he said, "Yes, I know it was unauthorized. We organized it through Arthur. But we can sort that side of things out later."

Now it was Frennelech's turn to stand up. Thirg was certain that they were doing it deliberately to drag out the agony. The crowd had fallen quiet after its roaring ovation for Eskenderom.

"Now is the foolishness exposed of those who would follow the Lumians as G.o.ds," Frennelech began. "The Lifemaker's foes stand helpless before His power. The usurper, Nogarech, trembles in his palace, awaiting the fury that will soon arrive at his gates. Where is the power of the Lumian G.o.d now?"

"Thanks for holding. Don't go away. Someone will be getting back shortly," the Lumian voice said inside Groork's head.

"Don't go away," Groork repeated to himself caustically.

"h.e.l.lo, is O'Flynn there?" Mackeson asked the NASO officer who appeared on his office screen.

"It's urgent." The officer called out to someone offscreen. Several seconds went by. Then O'Flynn's huge-shouldered, beefy-faced form moved into view, wearing stained coveralls.

"And what would ye be wantin' now?" he inquired.

"Mick, we need a flyer ready to go, now. What have you got?"

O'Flynn scratched his chin dubiously. "Well, now, that could be a bit of a problem. As far as immediate flight readiness goes, there's only AV23, which Seltzman and the linguists are taking out to ES3. AV20 isn't fueled up yet."

"Has Seltzman's group gone yet?" Mackeson asked.

"No, they're just kitting up now."

"Stop them. Tell them I'm requisitioning that vehicle. Hold the crew on readiness. A couple of Zambendorf's people will be there in a minute. They need it."

"Jaysus, shouldn't I have guessed it was him?" O'Flynn said. "Okay, boss. Whatever you say."

" . . . the fate that this deviant who calls himself Enlightener now faces. By the river did he come, sneaking back like a thief. And by the river shall he depart." Frennelech signaled to the executioner.

Eskenderom rose by his side and nodded. "Dispatch them."

The crowd went into a frenzy as first Groork, then Thirg, and finally Brongyd were lowered ontothe river's surface and released, standing upright on their bases so that the onlookers could get a better view. The three forms were swept downstream with the current, jostling and b.u.mping the stream of other items flowing from the city.

"We are cast off!" Groork sent desperately. "It is done!"

"How long do you have? Give estimate."

Groork looked around him at the melee of drifting pieces and oddments, the confusion of faces along the banks speeding by. He could extract no order from it. Thirg was bobbing a few yards away.

"Brother," Groork shouted. "You can judge these things. How long before we are consumed?"

"What does it matter now?" Thirg answered.

"The Lumian ear is open. It is they who ask."

"From Mena.s.sim?"

"So I presume."

"Then all is lost. Even their dragons could not cross such a distance in the moments that are left to us."

"How long, Thirg?"

Thirg looked away and timed the rate of flow past a stretch of bank that he measured with his eye.

Then he mentally counted its length into the remaining distance. "Four and a half minutes at most," he replied.

Still struggling to pull on pieces of suiting and harness, Crookes, Abaquaan, and Fellburg piled into the NASO flyer waiting with its engine idling at one of the departure locks. A crewman closed the door, the access tunnel retracted, and the outer door of the lock swung open as the flyer began moving.

"Message from control," the pilot said, turning in his seat up front. "Moses says four and a half minutes. That's how long they've got." The flyer moved out onto the ap.r.o.n, its engine note already climbing to takeoff speed.

Next to him in the c.o.c.kpit the copilot-navigator consulted a map on his screen and punched flight information into the computer. Crookes looked at him imploringly. "Well? Can we do it?"

The copilot glanced at the pilot and bit his lip, then looked back into the cabin. He shook his head.

"No way. Not a chance in a million. Sorry, guys."

One of the still-functioning radio sources that GENIUS 5, Copy Two, was experimenting with happened to be located on the south side of Perga.s.sos. Through it, GENIUS had picked up s.n.a.t.c.hes of the radio dialogue between the robeing known as Groork and the humans' base at the place they called Genoa. Since GENIUS had also explored the Robian-human translation setup in Experimental Station 3, it had become an efficient interpreter of both languages. While GENIUS didn't fully follow the whys and wherefores of the situation, it had gotten the message that a fellow nonprotein, metal-and-silicon being was in danger and that prompt action was called for. The explanations could wait.

"Hi," something new said inside Groork's head. "You don't know me, but let's worry about that later. It sounds as if you're in trouble."

Groork blinked, thinking for a moment that perhaps he was hallucinating under the stress. "Who is this?" he asked.

"You can call me GENIUS. Right now I triangulate your source as a point that my plan of the city says is in the middle of the Eflu River, below the last bridge. Is that right?"

Groork was suddenly enraptured. "Yes!" he responded.

"Hmm. And the river terminates in the furnaces. Okay, I see the problem. The question is what to do about it."