Chapter 11
As soon as all three fliers were well clear of the lake area, Pnarr, the most experienced pilot, took the lead. He led the formation straight toward the coast, crossing it less than twenty minutes after take-off. Looking down, Blade could see the lights of houses and vehicles flash by underneath, then the faint glimmer of the surf as they headed out to sea. The idea was to confuse the radar that was undoubtedly tracking them. Also, over the sea there was less chance of being spotted and reported by ground-based observers.
They were well away before the floor tilted as Pnarr took the flier up to its most economical cruising altitude. There were no signs of pursuit, although Pnarr kept the beamer turret manned and ready all the way north.
Three and a half hours later Pnarr turned west again, heading toward the coast and dropping down as he approached. Through the windows Blade saw the mountains south of the lake marching over the horizon and plunging down into the sea in long rocky points. The white of breaking waves skirted their feet; the white of snowcaps crowned their peaks and crests, pink-tinged by the rising sun.
The fliers raced over the coast less than two thousand feet up and held that altitude, dipping and bobbing to avoid tree-crowned hilltops, until the lake sprawled blue and shimmering across their field of view ahead. Near its northern end, Tengran squatted on its island, as far as Blade could tell unchanged since the last time he had seen it, barely two crowded months ago.
On Blade's suggestion Pnarr led the formation well clear of the town on the final approach, to avoid alarming the people unnecessarily or picking up ground fire. Not that Blade had much hope of getting a friendly reception in the town, at least not without a good deal of fast and persuasive talking. He and Nilando had volunteered to go out and meet whoever came out from the town; hopefully the fact that Nilando was Treduk and he himself not Graduk would persuade the townsmen to not shoot first and ask questions afterward.
Pnarr put the flier down so that it glided to a stop only a few hundred yards from the piers of Tengran. Blade could see boats already putting off and men clustering around the guns of the forts as he peered through the cockpit window. He didn't entirely like being so close in, where even a well-aimed cannon ball from one of the shore guns could damage the flier. But putting themselves so much at the mercy of Tengran's guns was a useful gesture of good faith.
By the time he and Nilando climbed out of the hatch and inflated the life raft that would carry them to shore, the boats were a good deal closer, and Blade could see that they were packed with men and bristling with weapons. Two of the larger boats carried sizable guns both fore and aft, and in general the fleet gave a ready-for-anything impression. They were not concentrated either, but formed a long arc, encompassing all three fliers. Even with beamers, a really hostile force would have had a fight on its hands this time.
They launched the raft, climbed in, and began to row toward the boats. As they did so, the men in the boats crowded to the railings, lifting muskets and nocking arrows to their bows. The cannon slewed around until Blade could look straight down the black bore of one.
When they were within easy earshot, Nilando rose to his knees and spread out his empty hands.
«Hoy, people of Tengran! I am Nilando of Irdna. This is the warrior Blade, who slew a Dragon Master and his Dragon. We are returning from Graduk captivity.»
There was a long silence in the arc of boats, then a voice called out:
«We have heard of both of you. But why return you in Graduk warfliers?»
«There are those among the Graduki who would aid us in fighting the Dragons. Have you not heard of these?»
«Tales. When was a Graduk ever a friend to us?»
«Many are. Or were. Those among the Graduki who hate you also are enemies to those who would aid you. They have defeated and slain most of them in a great battle. Some have fled in these fliers, and seek your aid.»
«Why should we aid any Graduk?»
«These have much of the high Graduk learning. I know you have heard of it, and I know you have seen it, for I was taken prisoner in the battle where your town lost so many of its fighting men. Would you not like to see two-score or more Graduk aiding you to slaughter the Ice Dragons as their enemies and yours have slaughtered you?»
That brought the Tengrans in the boats up short; a great buzz of debate and argument arose, but the guns and bows did not waver. Nilando took the chance to mutter to Blade. «I think they will not kill us now. But trusting us-that is another thing.» The debate and argument went on, until Blade began to wonder if the people of Tengran held a town meeting every time some critical question arose, even though it might be in the middle of a battle, or the middle of the lake.
Then the same voice that had spoken previously called out:
«We will send boats to you. Let your people come out one at a time, and give us their firethrowers as they do so. We will take them ashore and keep them safe until we decide what to do with them.»
«We accept.»
Blade was relieved at not being filled with arrows and musket balls, but far from satisfied. He needed an intact flier for his plans, and if the three fliers were left anchored in the open lake, they would be sitting ducks for the first Conciliator patrol flier that thought of checking out Tengran. And that patrol might arrive within a matter of hours.
The Tengrans landed them on the shore of the lake rather than in the town, then took Nilando and Stramod off to the island for further discussion. Having no idea of how long he would have to wait, and being more or less resigned to being unable to affect the proceedings while he was cooling his heels in the forest along with the other refugees, Blade decided to put the time to some use by speaking to Captain Pnarr about a flight north.
He chose to speak to Pnarr rather than one of the other pilots because, apart from knowing the captain better than any of the others, he was more impressed by his competence, his coolness, and his ability to take «fire, danger, and sudden death» more or less in his stride. The man was a professional. But that still did not make it much less of a gamble to speak to him in terms of aliens-though the alternative was winning Pnarr's support under false pretenses, and Blade was totally unwilling to do that.
As it worked out during the hours of sitting under the trees, the gamble paid off. Pnarr had not already concluded that aliens were lurking in the polar wastes, but he had concluded from the number of fliers that had vanished in the area that somebody or something was working to make it highly dangerous to enter. Aliens, if they existed, could hardly affect their chances of coming back safely that much-or so Pnarr said. Blade hoped the pilot wasn't whistling in the dark, and turned to a discussion of how best to approach the town elders for permission to make the flight. Stramod could permit them to go, but only the town elders' permission would make it possible to use the fliers.
In fact, the town elders approached them late in the afternoon, summoning them out to the island. When they reached the town meeting hall, they found Nilando sitting among a dozen men and women, not all of them literally elderly, by any means, around a smoke-grimed table. He rose to greet Blade and Pnarr as their guards escorted them in.
The looks the «elders» threw at Blade and Pnarr were filled with curiosity now, rather than hostility or suspicion. Apparently Nilando, who sat among them as though it were his birthright to do so, had been doing much talking during the day, and to good purpose. One thing he had apparently done was to persuade the elders to dispense with the formalities Blade knew such bodies usually loved, and plunge directly into business. The head of the council, sparrowlike in appearance, was also sparrowlike in the briskness with which he opened the discussion.