A Fire Upon the Deep by Vernor Vinge Read Free Book Online Page B

soldiers at the harbor fort.
    Hell. There was no cure for it; he would go ahead with the crazy scheme. He and Scriber and the alien member passed through the two inner sentries. He could smell the sea now. They came out of the trees onto the rock-walled harbor. Silver sparkled off the water in a million changing flecks. A large multiboat bobbed between two piers. Its masts were like a forest of tilting, leafless trees. Just a mile across the water they could see Hidden Island. Part of him dismissed the sight as a commonplace; part of him stumbled in awe. This was the center of it, the worldwide Flenser movement. Up in those dour towers, the original Flenser had done his experiments, written his essays ... and schemed to rule the world.
    There were a few people on the piers. Most were doing maintenance: sewing sails, relashing twinhulls. They watched the travois with sharp curiosity, but none approached. So all we have to do is amble down to the end of the pier, cut the lashings on an outside twinhull, and take off. There were probably enough packs on the pier alone to prevent that -- and their cries would surely draw the troops he saw by the harbor fort. In fact, it was a little surprising that no one up there had taken serious notice of them yet.
    These boats were cruder than the Southseas version. Part of the difference was superficial: Flenser doctrine forbade idle decoration on boats. Part of it was functional: These craft were designed for both winter and summer seasons, and for troop hauling. But he was sure he could sail them given the chance. He walked to the end of the pier. Hmm. A bit of luck. The bow-starboard twinhull, the one right next to him by the pier, looked fast and well-provisioned. It was probably a long-range scout.
    "Ssst. Something's going on up there." Scriber jerked a head toward the fort.
    The troops were closing ranks -- a mass salute? Five Servants swept by the infantry, and bugles sounded from the fort's towers. Scar had seen things like this, but Peregrine didn't trust the memory. How could --
    A banner of red and yellow rose over the fort. On the piers, soldiers and boatworkers dropped to their bellies. Peregrine dropped and hissed to the other, " Get down! "
    "Wha -- ?"
    "That's Flenser's flag ... his personal presence banner!"
    "That's impossible." Flenser had been assassinated in the Republic six tendays earlier. The mob that tore him apart had killed dozens of his top supporters at the same time.... But it was only the word of the Republican Political Police that all Flenser's bodies had been recovered.
    Up by the fort, a single pack pranced between the ranks of soldiers and whitejackets. Silver and gold glinted on its shoulders. Scriber edged a member behind a piling and surreptitiously brought out his eye-tool. After a moment: "Soul's end ... it's Tyrathect ."
    "She's no more the Flenser than I am," said Peregrine. They had traveled together from Eastgate all the way across the Icefangs. She was obviously a newby, and not well-integrated. She had seemed reserved and innerlooking, but there had been rages. Peregrine knew there was a deadly streak in Tyrathect.... Now he guessed whence it came. At least some of Flenser's members had escaped assassination, and he and Scriber had spent three tendays in its presence; Peregrine shivered.
    At the fort's gate, the pack called Tyrathect turned to face the troops and Servants. She gestured, and bugles sounded again. The new Peregrine understood that signal: an Incalling. He suppressed the sudden urge to follow the others on the pier as they walked belly-low toward the fort, all their eyes upon The Master. Scriber looked back at him, and Peregrine nodded. They had needed a miracle, and here was one -- provided by the enemy itself! Scriber moved slowly toward the end of the pier, pulling the travois from shadow to shadow.
    Still no one looked back. For good reason; Wickwrackscar remembered what happened to those showing disrespect at an Incalling.