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He turned, snapped his fingers, and his helpers mounted the scaffold carrying buckets of water which they poured into the tube. Meth Cagno co
"I have already magnetized this iron," said Cagno. "Note how it points to the north? Now-I bring it near the end of the coil. See it jerk! Electricity is flowing in the wire!"
The other members of the Seven were impressed. "And this iron needle will now serve to guide Henry Bastaff?"
"So I believe. But the Rous machine provides an even more dramatic possibility. With electricity we can disassociate seawater to produce, after certain operations, the acid of salt. and a caustic of countering properties as well. The acid can then be used to produce more highly concentrated streams of electricity-if we are able to secure more metal. There is iron in our blood: I ask myself, where does the iron originate?
Which of our foods contains the iron? I plan to reduce each of our foods under the lens, as well as any other distinctive substance which might yield a concentration of metal." He turned, went to the table, returned with a glistening object.
"Look. A bottle of glass. Bolin Hyse has produced this bottle. He fashioned a tube of copper, fixed it to a longer tube of withe, dipped the copper into molten glass and blew. The result"-Meth Cagno inspected the object critically-"is not beautiful. The glass is gray and streaked with ash. The shape is uncertain. Nevertheless-here is a glass bottle, produced from ash and sea-ooze. Eventually, we will be building devices of great intricacy."
"Subject to the indulgence of King Kragen," muttered Sklar Hast.
Meth Cagno threw up his hands. "King Kragen bah! We shall kill him. When next a kragen is brought to the derrick, allow me to deal with it. There are tests I wish to make."
Chapter VI
On the world which had no name, there were no seasons, no variations of climate except those to be found by traversing the latitudes. Along the equatorial doldrums, where floats of sea-plant grew in chains and clots, each day was like every other, and the passage of a year could be detected only by watching the night sky. Though the folk had small need for accurate temporal distinctions, each day was numbered and each year named for some significant event. A duration of twenty-two years was a "surge," and was also reckoned by number. Hence a given date might be known as the 349th day in the Year of Malvinon's Deep Dive during the Tenth Surge.
Time-reckoning was almost exclusively the province of the Scriveners. To most of the folk life seemed as pellucid and effortless as the glassy blue sea at noon, King Kragen's attack upon Tranque Hoat occurred toward me year's end, which thereupon became the Year of Tranque's Abasement, and it was generally assumed that the following year would be known as the Year of the Dissenters' Going.
As the days passed and the year approached its midpoint, Barquan Blasdel, Apprise Intercessor, instead of allowing the memory of his kidnapping to grow dim, revived it daily with neverflagging virulence. Each evening saw a memorandum from Barquan Blasdel flicker up and down the chain of floats:
"Vigilance is necessary. The dissidents are led by seven men of evil energy. They flout the majesty of King Kragen; they despise the folk who maintain old traditions and most especially the Intercessors. They must be punished and taught humility. Think well on this matter. Ask yourself, how may the dissidents most expeditiously be chastened?"
The other Intercessors, while politely attending Blasdel's urgencies, did little to give them effect. Blasdel daily became more hectic. At a Conclave of Notables his demands that the floats assemble an armada to invade the new floats and destroy me dissidents was vetoed by the Arbiters, Guild Masters and Caste Chiefs, on the grounds of utter infeasibility and pointlessness. "Let them be," growled Emacho Feroxibus, Chief of the Quatrefoil Bezzlers. "So long as they do not molest us, why should we molest them? I for one don't care to risk drowning for so dismal a cause."
Barquan Blasdel, containing his temper, explained carefully, "The matter is more complex than this. Here is a group who have fled in order to avoid paying their due to King Kragen. If they are allowed to prosper, to make profit of their defection, then other folk may be tempted to wonder, why do we not do likewise?!f the sin of kragen-kilfing becomes vulgar recreation, where is reverence? Where is continuity?
Where is obedience to High Authority?"
"This may be true," stated Providence Dringle, Chief Hoodwink for the Populous Equity Float. "Nonetheless in my opinion me cure is worse than the complaint. And to risk a heretical opinion, I must say the benefits we derive from High Authority no longer seem commensurate with the price we pay."
Blasdel swung about in shock, as did the other Intercessors, "May I ask your meaning?" Blasdel inquired icily.
"I mean that King Kragen consumes six to seven bushels of choice sponges daily. He maintains his rule in the waters surrounding the floats, true, but what do we need fear from the lesser kragen? By your own testimony the dissidents have developed a method to kill the kragen with facility."
Blasdel said with frigid menace, "I can not overlook the fact that your remarks are identical to the preposterous ravings of the dissidents, who so rightly shall be obliterated."
"Do not rely on my help," said Providence Dringle.
"Nor mine," said Emacho Feroxibus.
The conclave had divided into two antagonistic camps, the Intercessors and certain others supporting Barquan Blasdel, though few favored the more extreme of his propositions.
From the foliage which surrounded the scene of the conclave came a crash and a muttered exclamation. A number of men sprang into the shrubbery. There was a confused scuffle, the sound of blows and exclamations, and presently a man was dragged out into the lamplight. His skin was dark. his face was bland and bare of hair.
Barquan Blasdel marched forward. "Who are you? Why do you iurk in these forbidden precincts?"
The man staggered and blinked foolishly. "Is this the tavern? Pour out the arrack, pour for all! 1 am a stranger on Apprise, I would know the quality of your food and drink."
Emacho Feroxibus snorted, "The fool is drunk. Turn him off the float."
"No!" roared Blasdel, jerking forward in excitement. "This is a dissident, this is a spy! 1 know him well! He has shaved his head and his face, but never can he defeat my acuity! He is here to learn our secrets!"
The group turned their attention upon the man, who blinked even more vehemently. "A spy? Not I. I came to find the Old Tavern."
Blasdel sniffed the air in front of the captive's face- "There is no odor: neither beer nor arrack nor spirits of life. Come!
All must satisfy themselves as to this so that there will be no subsequent contradictions and vacillations."
"What is your name?" demanded Vogel Womack, the Parnassus Arbiter. "Your float and your caste?"
The captive took a deep breath, cast off his pretense of drunke
"A spy!" cried Barquan Blasdel in a voice of horror. "A self-confessed spy!"
"It is a serious matter," said Emacho Feroxibus, "but the truth of the matter is undoubtedly as he has averred."
The Intercessors set up a chorus of indignant hoots and jibes. Barquan Blasde! said, "He is guilty of at least a double offense: first, the various illegalities entering into his dissidence; and second, his insolent attempt to conspire against us, the staunch and the faithful- The crime has occurred on Apprise Float, and affects our relations with King Kragen.
Hence, I, Barquan Blasdel, am compelled to demand an extreme penalty. Parler Denk, the new Apprise Arbiter, in such instance, can implement such a penalty by simple executive command, without consultation with the council. Arbiter Denk, what is your response?"
"Be not hasty," warned Vogel Womack. "Tomorrow the man's deed will not appear so grave."
Barquan Blasdel ignored him. "Parler Denk, what is your response?"
"1 agree, in all respects. The man is a vile dissident, an agent of turmoil and a spy. He must suffer an extreme penalty. To this declaration there will be allowed no appeal."
On the following day a significant alteration was made in the method by which King Kragen was tendered his customary oblation. Previously, when King Kragen approached a lagoon with the obvious intent of feasting, arbors overgrown with sponges were floated to the edge of me net, for King Kragen to pluck with his palps. Now the sponges were plucked, heaped upon a great tray and floated forth between a pair of coracles. When the tray was in place, Barquan Blasdel went to his sanctum. King Kragen was close at hand; the scraping of his chitin armor sounded loud in Blasdel's listening device. Blasdel sounded his submarine horn; the scraping ceased, then began once more, increasing in intensity. King Kragen was approaching.
He appeared from the east, turret and massive torso riding above the surface, the great rectangular swimming platform gliding through the ocean on easy strokes of his vanes.
The forward eyes noted the offering. King Kragen approached casually, inspected the tray, began to scoop the sponges into his maw with his forward palps.
From the float folk watched in somber speculation mingled with awe. Barquan Blasdel came gingerly forth to stand on the edge of the pad, to gesticulate in approval as King Kragen ate.
The tray was empty. King Kragen made no motion to depart; Blasdel swung about, gestured to an understudy. "The sponges: how many were offered?"
"Seven bushels. King Kragen usually eats no more."
"Today be seems to hunger. Are others plucked?"
"Those for the market: another five bushels."
"They had best be tendered King Kragen; it is not well to stint." While King Kragen floated motionless, the coracles were pulled to the float, another five bushels were poured upon the tray, and the tray thrust back toward King Kragen.
Again he ate, consuming all but a bushel or two. Then, replete, he submerged till only his turret remained above the water. And there he remained, moving sluggishly a few feet forward, a few feet backward.