The Dark Design

Smoking like a dragon though the cigar tasted bitter, he paced back and forth. So far, there were only two on the boat who shared the secret of X with him-Joe Miller and John Johnston. There were, or had been, eight who to his knowledge knew about the Stranger: Miller, Johnston, himself, Firebrass (now dead), de Bergerac, Odysseus (who'd disappeared long ago), von Richthofen (now dead), and Richard Francis Burton. The being whom Clemens called X or the Mysterious Stranger (when it wasn't son-of-a-bitch or bastard) had said he'd elected twelve to get to the polar tower. X was supposed to return in a few years and give Sam more informa­tion. So far he had not shown.

Perhaps the other Ethicals had finally caught him, and he was- where?

Sam had told Miller and von Richthofen about the Stranger. So that left six of those informed by X unknown to him. Though it was possible that they were all on this boat. Why had X not given each one a sign or a codeword of recognition? Maybe he meant to do so but had been delayed. X's schedule was about as uncertain as that of a Mexican railroad.

Cyrano had told him about Burton. Sam didn't know where Burton was, but he knew who he was. The newspapers had been full of his exploits during Sam's lifetime. And Sam had read his Person­al Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El-Medinah, First Footsteps in East Africa, The Lake Regions of Central Africa, and his translation of the Arabian Nights.

Also, Gwenafra had known him personally, and she had told Sam all she remembered about him. She had been only seven or there­abouts when she had first been resurrected. Richard Burton had taken her under his wing, and she had traveled with him on a boat up-River for a year. Then she had been drowned, but she had never forgotten the fierce, dark man.

Greystock had also been with them. But neither he nor Gwen were aware of the Stranger. Or way Greystock an agent?

That fellow Burton. On Earth he'd led an expedition to find the source of the Nile. Here, he was as passionately involved in getting to the headwaters of the Nile, though for a different reason. De Bergerac had said that the Ethical had told him that, if he found Burton, Burton would pretend to have lost his memory of anything related to the Ethicals. Clemens should tell him that he knew better, and Burton would then explain why he was pretending to have amnesia. Very curious.

Then there were Stern, Obrenova, and Thorn. And Firebrass. Their roles were as clandestine as those of X and his colleagues. On which side were they?

He needed help in untangling the warp and woof of this crazy tapestry. Time for a conference.

Within five minutes, he was closeted in his cabin with Joe and John Johnston. Johnston was a huge man, massively boned and muscled. His face was handsome though craggy; his eyes, a start­ling blue; his hair, bright red. Though he towered above other humans, he looked small beside the titanthrop.

Sam Clemens gave them the news. Johnston did not speak at first, but then the mountaineer was not one to talk unless there was extreme occasion to do so. Joe said, "Vhat doeth it all mean? I mean, the gateway through vich only Pithcator could pathth?"

"We'll find out from Thorn," Sam said. "For the time being, what worries me is Thorn and the rest of that filthy crew."

Johnston said, "Ye don't think Greystock was an agent for them Ethicals, do ye? I think the polecat was just one of King John's men."

"He could have been that and also an agent," Sam said.

"How?" Joe Miller rumbled.

"How do I know? Anyway, you mean why. That was really what the thief said to Jesus while he was being nailed to the cross. Why? That's what we should be asking. Why? Yes, I think Greystock could have been an agent. He just fell in with King John's purpose because it suited his own purpose."

"But them agents don't use violence," Johnston said. "At least, that's what ye told me X told ye. They not only hate violence, they don't even like to touch human beings."

"No, I didn't say that. I said violence was unethical for the Ethicals. At least, according to X. But I don't know that he wasn't lying. For all I know, he may be the Prince of Darkness, who was, if you remember your Bible, the Prince of Liars."

"Then what're we doing?" Johnston said. "Why're we follow­ing his orders?"

"Because I don't know he's lying. And his colleagues haven't had the courtesy or decency to speak to me. He' s all I have to go on. Also, I said that X seemed rather reluctant to have me get too close. Like the abolitionist who aired out his house after he'd had a black to di

"Hith thtink vath different from Tham'th," Joe said, gri

"You're a thly one, ain't you?" Sam said. "Anyway, Joe has never smelled anyone else like that. So I presumed that the agents are of human origin."

"Tham thmoketh thigarth all the time," Joe said. "I couldn't thmell a thkunk around thothe weedth."

"That'll be enough of that, Joe," Sam said. "Or I'll run you back up the banana tree."

"I never thaw a banana in my life! Not until I came here and my grail gave me vone for breakfatht. Even then I vathn't thyure it vathn't poithon."

"Stick," Johnston said.

Sam's eyebrows curved like the backs of recoiling caterpillars.

"Stick what? I hope ..."

"To the point."

"Ah, yes. Anyway, I'm sure that there are agents around. The boat may be crawling with them. The question is, whose? X's or the others'? Or both?"

Johnston said, "They ain't seemed to interfere so far. Not with the boat, anyway. But when we get close to the headwaters ..."

"I don't know about interference. Even though he never said so, it's safe to assume that X bored that tu

"Also, what about Odysseus? He showed up in the nick of time and saved us when we were fighting von Radowitz. He told me he was one of the twelve picked by X. I assumed at first that it was X who'd sent him. But no, Odysseus said it was a female Ethical. So, is there another one of them in on this? Another renegade who's X's ally? I asked him about her, and he just laughed. He wouldn't tell me.

"But maybe the woman wasn't X's pal. Maybe she was an Ethical who'd gotten wind somehow of what was going on. And she sent Odysseus, who may have been an agent posing as the historic Odysseus.

"I say that because I've run into two Mycenaeans who were actually at the siege of Troy. At least, they claimed to have been. There are so many phonies on The River, you know. Both said that Troy wasn't where Odysseus said it was. He had told me that Troy was much further down in Asia Minor than the archaeologists said it was. The two Greeks said that it was where everybody had always said it was. Near Hissarlik, Turkey. Well, they didn't identify the town and country under those names, of course. Neither was in existence in their day.

"But they did say that Troy was near the Hellespont, where Hissarlik was later built. Now, how about that mess?"

"If that Greek feller was an agent," Johnston said, "why would he make up a lie like that?"

"Maybe to convince me that he was the real stuff. That he was the dyed-in-the-wool original. He wasn't likely to encounter anyone who could call him a bald-faced liar. For one thing, he didn't stick around long enough to be challenged.

"Here's another thing. The scholars of my time had all said that the wooden horse of Troy was a myth. The story was about as credible as a politician's campaign promises. But Odysseus said that there was a wooden horse, and he himself proposed it, just as Homer said he did, and it did get the Greek soldiers into the city.