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186
Flow
Captain Heath laughed with astonishment verging on disbelief. “By the Saints, she’s here before us!” For the sake of those without a Fleet background, he pointed. “Mercury’s Blade – my coin says she’s the fastest ship afloat.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Not at her trials. You are thinking she has changed?”
MacNeil chuckled in turn. “Commander Chalmers just sailed her from Sidmuth port down the lakes to Fort Narrows, and back here, at a pace a fair four knots faster than expected of a courier – or more.”
“Having this stiff wind behind her did no harm.” Heath glanced over at the helmsman, then up into the rigging where seamen scrambled to comply with orders from the officer of the deck. “I dare say we may learn more by a visit.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Lady Meriel, by your leave, I would invite those of importance on Mercury to join us for dinner.”
“Of course, Captain.”
Devon puffed a little from the climb; he was used to steady, even, paced work, not hurried dashes. “This had better be worth it”, he declared.
“Have a look.” The British scout handed him his telescope.
Devon aimed where pointed, using a faint sparkle to guide him. If this was what– “Holy crap.” He swung to the left, but what he wanted to see was hidden by the hill. “Okay, three things: get a message chasing Druid Anaph, get a team organized to go over there and see what’s really happening, and get a team together to get up here and build a tower high enough to see where that’s coming from.” Someone went running with those orders; the Engineer took another look. “That flow looks like about two-thirds of what we’ve got. I just hope Anaph knows about it, and that it stays stable.” Handing the telescope back, he smiled wryly. “One way or another, some Aliens are going to be getting swimming lessons.”
“Her hull....” Kevin MacNeil gave just enough inflection to suggest a question.
“Druids”, said Commander Chalmers, looking skyward.
Everyone laughed or chuckled. “Purveyors of surprises”, Rigel agreed. “Anaph – how?”
“The wood still holds life. Now the water flows around it better. Rigel, a ship has a life of its own, too. I don’t understand, but it does.”
“Druid, could you alter Resolute’s hull as well? Her design is meant to be fast, but a little more speed would be a great gift.” Captain Heath looked at Anaph expectantly.
The Druid shrugged. “Sure. The wood still has a lot of life – that will make it easy. Captain, where are you bound next?”
“Standish, across the bay. Then depending on the wind, either Pevensie or Tern’s Roost.”
“Tern’s Roost stands on a cliff.” The young voice was Onatah’s; the boy sat cross-legged on the deck by Elizabeth.
Heath chuckled. “Indeed, lad. But there is a stair, which Lady Meriel wishes to see. If the wind is easy, that can be done.”
“The west wind ends tonight”, Anaph informed him. “Tomorrow morning will be calm, then gentle winds from the south.”
The captain stared a moment. “You can feel the weather in different directions?’
Anaph shook his head. “No, I feel the living things, and they feel the weather. Sometimes I fail about when a change will arrive, though.”
“Knowing the weather ahead of time – that is a valuable thing!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Druid Anaph, could you train a Druid for me?”
Again Anaph indicated a negative. ‘I must find one with the idrûdh spark – only one with the spark can be trained.” He frowned. “The spark seems lacking here.” He looked over at the deck. “Yet Onatah has something like it.”
“We cherish the talents the Spirit Creator gives”, the boy responded.
Captain Heath and Lord MacNeil looked at each other and shook their heads. None of the Vortex Snatched had the trained eye, but these men, brought up in naval traditions, could see the difference. “How much faster?” asked Elizabeth.
“I think a little more than a knot”, Kandath answered. “But I haven’t felt the ship at real speed.” They’d made a morning run up and down Miles Bay, to give the Druids a chance to do their work.
“A knot – that’s amazing”, Captain Heath responded. “Now when she’s back in Hampton Wharf, the shipwrights won’t let go of her till they’ve measured the changes.” His grin was like a boy’s. “Then we can do new speed trials, and put the rest of her class to shame.”
An hour later they were on their separate ways, Resolute bound for Tern’s Roost, Mercury’s Blade not for what were no longer so much lakes as an arm of the sea, as Rigel had expected, but for the broken lands where Anaph’s earthquakes had made sharp-edged fragments of land.
“Captain, we don’t know these waters!”
“Leftenant, I trust the Druid. Keep to full sail. We’ll shoot the passage at speed, then make for the round bay he described. It’s out of the current, except a giant slow whirlpool.” Her first officer winced at the familiar playful grin. “If we get to the center, the Blade can turn lazily in place.”
The rough, shattered cliffs went by at twenty-six knots, as judged by Dugal, confirmed by Chalmers. Eleven of that was the current; the commander declared that their own fifteen was very good with the ship heeled over to use the south-east wind. “A new island”, the ship’s first officer observed. “Does it fall under Lord MacNeil’s authority?”
“Under no one’s”, his captain responded. “Lord MacNeil is special representative for the peninsula project, Lord Sidmuth minister of the western shore settlement. “Her Majesty will be appointing a new Minister of Settlement, for new islands.”
The senior leftenant scratched his right sideburn. “Are the islands Her Majesty’s?” he asked softly. “‘Tis the Druid who made them.”
Chalmers nodded slowly, just a bare movement. “A telling point. But what would he do with them? The kingdom needs the land.”
“Rigel gets a big one.” Oran had come along, mostly to see if he could judge distances when he wasn’t covering the ground. “He should have a title here, to bind the realms together. And he’ll want an embassy, anyway, which will need lands to support it.” He paused briefly to watch a dark, nearly black, rock face rush by not a mast’s length away. “And Anaph will pick one for Druids to use.”
“But for the rest?” Chalmers prodded.
Oran considered. “Probably one for the Escobars, and if any Celts want to come here, one for them. Rigel wants to bind us all together, so we’re friends, not just allies against the Aliens. But the rest” – Anaph had announced that many islands had formed, not just the few he’d foreseen – “he could sell them”. His grin was the impish one he shared with Casey. “I’m joking – he’ll probably give to your kingdom”, he told a briefly scandalized audience. Then he laughed. “But I’m going to tell Chen to ask for one for Scouts.”
“I don’t understand that gift”, the captain shared. “Does it serve you for aught, here on the Sea?”
Oran sighed. “Confuses me. I can feel us moving through the water, and I can feel actual distances, and the two don’t fit, almost ever. I’d rather have the earth under my feet.” His thoughts reached to the mainland. “And I miss my cat.” He’d explained that earlier, learning in exchange that the British had dogs, but they were weak, often sickly things, poorly adjusted to this world.
“I could put you on an island, and let you race the Blade”, Chalmers teased, relaxing with this lighthearted young lord.
“Hey, I’m the fastest Scout of all, but no one is that fast!”
Bishop Theodoro marveled yet again. His shadowy protector, Esteban, had procured some of the finest of cloth of the Realm so this Sister Anne could have an impressive nun’s habit. He’d agreed to schedule a Thursday evening Mass in the St. Anne’s chapel, announcing it as a Mass for Healing. He’d expected only two dozen, perhaps, but the poor families and host of urchins Anne had brought in tow from her travels numbered nearly two score, and three times more besides had come. Docenturion Vargas reported that the older children, shown the town by Esteban, had talked freely of the miracles Sister Anne performed; when people connected the name of the Sister and of the saint’s chapel, rumors started. Now the chapel was packed to overflowing with men, women, and children with recent injuries or present ailments. He had granted Anne the administration of the sacred Bread, he following with the Cup – and in his wake, often at the moment the sacramental wine was swallowed, healings happened. Now, completing the last circuit at the altar rail, he pondered who in the town was suitable to design an abbey, for this Mass would be followed by others until everyone in Dos Reyes was whole and sound – and that would bring vocations as surely as an announcement of free fruit pies brought children.
Anne frowned internally. The boy – a mid-teen – she’d just given the Body of Christ to had the same affliction two before him, a widower and a husband, had exhibited. She’d paused to lay a hand on the lad in blessing, to get a closer look, and was now certain it was sexually transmitted. It didn’t seem terribly harmful; the worst symptom was a proliferation of hair follicles in pubic regions, plus the new hairs grew to two or three times the normal length – the second was waves of terrible itching as the tiny creatures, sixteen-celled organisms, reproduced in synchronization. She would have to inform Theodoro; no confessional seal held her to confidentiality. It was something she wanted to eliminate quickly; it seemed odd that the planet’s organisms had adapted this quickly, in just a few hundred years, to the Quistadors – and if it had adapted so fast, she worried that it might change again, into something more virulent.
After Mass, she went to the rack of prayer candles and knelt. The looks in people’s eyes declared that she was going to be swamped by grateful individuals with thanks, plus a few who were certain that she was St. Anne herself come to aid “God’s own Bishop”. Prayer was respected, and while she felt slightly uneasy about using it as a device to accomplish something else, she was in fact praying.
“Father Almighty, thank You for the girl with the gift.” Now Anne was certain she would stay here. And with the High Bishop in much better health, she held to hope that the trouble she would cause would remain quiet for a few years.
The young man scrambled over the ship’s rail. When HMS Mercury’s Blade had dropped anchor, they’d seen the figure on shore strip, bundle his clothes in a bag, and set out swimming for them. He was nearly as fit as a Scout, and not at all self-conscious as he dried and dressed. “So we’ve been cutting sod and tossing it in, since we didn’t know what you wanted to happen here. Master Devon said it was better to keep it whole even if you wanted it broken, because it would be easy to break in that case, but impossible to repair if things were the other side ‘round.” He wriggled a bit to settle his short pants in place.
“A good decision”, Anaph responded. “I don’t want it broken quite yet – that comes after Devon’s collapses.” The Druid could feel, distantly, the efforts of men continuing to raise the dam, now digging what would be a small harbor when sea level was reached. Every additional centimeter before it was all washed away was million of more cubic meters of water for his purpose. He devoted eight seconds to concentrating on the third ridge holding in the Sea, where the final smaller ridge had broken and salty, muddy water was rushing in. Its condition told him they couldn’t afford another two meters of depth. “A little more, and this will hold. Then stay here and start a village – this will be a good spot for a fortress.” Once it had amazed him that people under the command of others would so easily take orders from him; now he accepted it and used it.
“Oh – do you have signal towers from here to the fort?”
The lad nodded. “The Engineer said this is an island now, so we don’t have to worry about Aliens. That meant no soldiers were needed, so the towers went up fast.”
“Good. Send word to Devon that I’m here. When I’ve finished what I need to do, I’ll go join him.”
“What do you have to do here?”
Anaph waved a hand at the ridge/dam. “I’m going to arrange it so that an hour after Devon’s dam collapses, this will do the same.” He looked to the north, toward the Stone. The amount he’d come to understand here was astounding to him; he’d had no idea that it was possible to link events that way, to set up the energies to wait on something else happening. “It will be a sight to remember – so when you feel the ground tremble, settle down to watch.”
“And stay back”, the lad deduced.
Anaph chuckled. “Definitely. Now do you swim back?”
The welcoming committee of one shook his head. “I ride in with you in a ship’s boat. Then I return with you – I’m a messenger to Master Devon.”
Dinner was just before sunset; it had taken Anaph hours to set everything properly, and make the link.
Brother Dismas found what the Bishop needed. Just a two hour walk outside the walls was a piece of property so tangled in disputes that the Count’s court and the city courts had never been able to agree on a settlement. In such a case, Theodoro had learned, it was a bishop’s prerogative to step in and settle the matter. The eleven expectant faces before him – expectant toward him, hostile to one another, especially the lawyers – were all going to be united in a moment, united in anger toward him.
“Four parties claim the land”, he stated, and began to review the case. The lawyers were impatient at first, but began nodding in respect as he listed every significant argument they’d made for their clients. “So under law each has a good claim”, he summarized some time later, “enough so that the courts cannot reach a decision.
“Having this land sit vacant–“
“Except for trespassers and squatters”, an attorney interjected.
Theodoro ignored him. “--benefits no one. Thus, I exercise my authority to settle this matter.” Though that was what they’d expected, still breaths were sucked in. “Since each claimant has a good case, it would be unjust to favor one. Therefore I end the disputes by awarding the property to the Abbey of St. Anne.” Shock was quickly followed by anger and dismay. “The vineyards are to be restored, and half the revenue each year is to be divided among the claimants present here.” Several lawyers chuckled; one claimant hadn’t bothered to attend; he would regret that decision. “In addition, stones in the steps to Saint Anne’s common hall will be engraved with the names of the claimants here present, as donors of the property for the glory of God.”
That caught them by surprise. If asked, none of them would have agreed to make such a donation, but the Bishop was crediting them nonetheless. One was honest. “Your grace, we did not offer – we do not deserve this!” Everyone present, even the lawyers, nodded.
“None of us deserves the grace of God”, he replied, wondering again at how the Lord Oran had delivered that small, wonderful book. “Yet He bestows it in spite of that. Though you did not choose to make this gift, still you are making it, and so will receive recognition.” In truth, he wasn’t certain such recognition should be awarded; might it not take away from the reward in heaven? Yet in truth, it was the only compensation he had to give for the loss of the wealth each had pursued.
“How to pay for this abbey?” a lawyer inquired.
“The gifts at the Mass of Healing and at the cathedral’s St. Anne’s chapel have been large”, Theodoro answered. “I expect they shall suffice. Yet if not, there are still luxuries in my residence that might be sold.”
The eldest of the claimants, a man with a slight hump on his back, stood. “Bishop, I know you were sent by God. Now Anne of God is among us, and I say for myself that I happily approve your judgment.” The next wasn’t immediate, but one by one the claimants stood and stated their agreement.
Theodoro sighed inwardly at the less than full truth he had given. Neither the gifts nor works of art would pay for the building of this abbey. The balance, he had been promised in terms permitting no disagreement, would be made up by the thieves of seven cities. As those who had come to hear him filed out, the bishop wondered, and asked God, just how that young Esteban had learned that attitude, that posture and assurance of command, yet had called him to no holy service. He grinned as he followed the deacon who carried his books: Esteban would likely claim that his was a holy calling, and argue the matter for an hour.
Elizabeth laughed, letting herself go. The antics she was watching – “Truly, Lady Rita, is this called dance, in your homeland?”
Rita managed to laugh and pant at the same time. “That depends – on who you ask – some call it gyrating – some call it free form – some call it modern.” She forced slow, deep breaths for a count of twenty. “Everyone makes it up as they go.”
“As he goes”, Kevin MacNeil corrected, in an ongoing sort of verbal tag with Rita. The two grinned at each other.
“There’s what we call ‘ballroom dance’”, Rigel informed Elizabeth. “It’s got definite patterns and moves, but still a lot of improvisation. I like swing – that’s one of the types; it goes with a certain kind, I guess beat, of music.”
“Swing?” Rita asked, all innocence. “I thought you liked tango!”
Rigel blushed faintly. “Well, it has... elements”, he replied lamely.
Elizabeth caught the subtle change of color to his cheeks. “Lady Rita, would you teach me this ‘tango’? I would venture it with Lord Rigel.”
Three minutes later, Kevin MacNeil was mentally listing ladies he’d like to tango with. But an alert piece of his mind, always on his kingdom’s business, was evaluating just how Rigel and Elizabeth were enjoying the exercise.
Anaph tossed his staff to the shore, where it bounced off its tip, flipped, landed on its foot, and balanced. “Commander, many thanks. If your ship is to escape, you must go swiftly.”
“Back the way we came”, replied Marlys Chalmers. “That side channel was flowing back out.”
“It won’t be for long. Once these dams are broken, the whole Sea will flow in.”
Rigel wasn’t totally oblivious, at least not sometimes, Rita noted, keeping her silence, letting him put things together. “So the Isle of Bruce is wealthy, but its prosperity is threatened.” He scanned Guysdock, where six fishing boats lay up on the shore. “The fish are running out?”
Elizabeth kept her pleased smile inside. “The catch each year, for eight years, is smaller than before. A smaller catch means higher prices, but also men without work. And it means less to eat. None starve, yet, but” – she pointed back toward the peninsula with its new towns and Wall – “this should have begun five years ago, to grow grain. Your new plow will aid, but now we need men for war, not the fields, and the peninsula has little enough good land for crops.”
“Don’t worry about that”, Landon remarked without taking his attention from the deep water between ship and shore. “Lady Meriel, do you harvest the small creatures with pearly shells?”
Elizabeth blinked, her attention on his offhand comment about not worrying over land for grain. Kevin saved her. “Yes, Bard – they’re delicacies.”
Landon nodded. “I thought so. If you can make people stop harvesting those, you’ll have more fish in two years. Can they harvest them without killing them?”
Elizabeth blinked at the shift in thought. “Yes. Many prefer them live.”
“Good. Lord MacNeil, if you have the authority, get everyone on that island who knows how busy getting all those creatures off that big rock face.” Landon pointed. “Why, you wonder? Because when Druid Anaph shakes the earth again, that rock is going to collapse, and kill them all.” Finally he turned from the rail.
His harp seemed to appear from nowhere; he strummed a mournful, somehow scolding, series. “There are places in your islands where these used to live, but your fishermen took them all. Use the ones from here to put them back, and allow no harvesting of them for ten years.”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Bard, how can eating these harm the fish?”
Landon sighed. “There are three basic things these fish eat. Two are very scarce right now. The third is becoming scarce. They’re becoming scarce because there’s something else that competes with them, and something else still that eats them.
“What the shells eat uses the same space and places the things the fish eat do. Without the shells, that crowds out the things the fish eat. That takes food away from the little creature that also eats the food the fish eat. Except it doesn’t just eat them, it also spreads their seeds. But since it’s scarce because its food is scarce, the seeds aren’t getting spread.”
“So because the shells’ food is not eaten, the fishes’ food is driven away?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes on a distant focus. “I find that makes sense!” She had to catch herself from just giving an order. “Kevin, could you write this, and send it to the University? And perhaps the Prime Minister?” Kevin nodded, the sharp action reprimanding her for almost breaking character.
“I’m going to try to figure out what could help here”, Landon declared. “I can show Druid Anaph what’s needed – once I discover what that is.”
“Lots more lower on the food chain”, Rita mused. “Do you know enough to interfere with this ecosystem?” she asked softly.
“I know enough to know one thing”, he replied. “Life here only goes down about five meters – so I should be able to find things that live eight to twelve meters down, and not have problems.”
Elizabeth was looking at him intently. “You have the talent, true? So why are you not a Druid?”
Landon struck his harp and a pose. “Oh, aye, in me’s the talent / a Druid for to be – but God gave out singing, so I am – what you see!”
Light laughter and applause rewarded him, along with one silver coin flipped his way by the officer of the watch. “Entertain the crew tonight, Bard, and I’ll see about a better thanks”, the leftenant said. “Some has been asking after you. If I put them off much longer, I may be subject to an over-boarding action.”
“Gladly”, Landon replied, bowing. “And”, he added with a sly grin, “I shall strive to play some for a tango.” Rigel glared at him briefly, then shrugged. Elizabeth clapped in delight.
Rita looked thoughtful.
Devon looked down at his dam, where men frantically dumped fill in low spots. “Another six hours?” he asked Anaph rhetorically. “Only one way to do that. Shelby!” he yelled. “Go blow that canyon – let the pressure off.” The Engineer turned back to the Druid with an explanation. “All the flow was going sideways, five days back. Some water had started flowing out a swale about eighty meters upstream, then a section close by collapsed. I didn’t think much of that until the current headed across the collapse.
“It let a lot of water out – those Aliens know there’s water coming their way now; they can see it, and some are building dikes.” Devon grinned grimly. “Lines in the dirt, is what they’ll be when this busts loose. Anyway, that water flowing down the swale carved a gully that swallowed water fast enough we could barely tell it was rising, here.
“So why six hours?”
Anaph grinned. “Rigel and all the rest will be here in about four. Then we’ll hike up by your watch tower, for the show.”
P'raps you meant "sans physical form?" aka Corporeal????
