The Ringworld Throne

Rooballabl was right, and Vala was irritated. “I don’t know the answer. How about a war between people who could fly and people who couldn’t? You’d want to pull up the bridge, so to speak.”

Her crew looked at each other. Beedj asked, “Do any of you have old records of such a war?” None spoke. “Rumors, then?”

“Forget it,” Vala snapped.

Manack asked, “Why build the ramp to lift? Why not just lift the city a little?” Alien or not, he saw something in Vala’s demeanor and added, “Never mind.”

The sky was black and pouring rain when Tegger waked into the shadow.

He lit a torch when he could, but the light didn’t travel far. It lit a featureless circle of the road down. He was walking into a roar like a rainstorm. He edged to the right side and found a rib-high curb. Peered over and saw nothing.

They must have seen him. They might not like the torch, but it certainly made him conspicuous. He was carrying nine more. What would happen if he dropped one?

Instead, he leaned far over the curb and hurled the torch onto the loop of road below him. He looked over to be sure it still burned, then walked a little farther down the ramp. He’d come somewhat more than a full turn.

Now he could let his night vision develop.

These odors reminded him of the nights he and the others had spent waiting to speak to the Ghouls. The sounds were like the Thurl’s tent at night: domestic sounds, murmurs, sudden quarrels, all in an alien language, all above a sound like a waterfall. What he imagined below him must be worse than the reality …

Tegger looked over.

The bottom of the spiral ramp was high off the ground.

Something inside him saw that as fu

Deep into shadow, water fell in a vertical river, a waterfall of tremendous scope. All the rain falling on the City was pouring onto some huge dark mass, and thence into the Homeflow.

He was at the edge of the City. The waterfall must be near or at the center, but the roar was loud even here. It was pouring onto, into, a vast, intricate structure, then into the Homeflow via lesser falls and streams. Tegger could see little but dark-on-dark, but … here was a fountain of such size as nobody but an ancient City Builder would even consider.

The Homeflow ran around the fountain on both sides. Here it seemed to be confined in concrete. Where the concrete ended, near Tegger’s perch, was rapids. Water falling from the City, adding its momentum to the Homeflow itself, had cut a deep canyon. Only its walls showed in the blaze of daylight around the City’s edge.

And of course there were vampires everywhere.

Most were asleep, cuddled in family groups. Wait, now … that was a Machine People, wasn’t it? Hard to tell in the dark. A woman, despite the mustache; she had breasts. And no clothing. She was the center of a circle of vampires.

It looked to Tegger like they were protecting her from other vampires: from thieves. Four of adult size, two small enough to be children, and the infant in one woman’s arms: enough to guard her.

Machine People had been taken during the attacks on the Thurl. Tegger continued to watch.

The baby woke and attempted to suck.

The woman half woke. She gave the baby to the Red woman. Oh, flup, the Red was putting it to her neck!

Tegger let himself slump against the curb, in the dark. He hadn’t eaten in some time, but old bird meat was trying to rise again.

Why do vampires collect prisoners?

How do vampires wean their babies?

Tegger didn’t want to know anymore.

Sometimes the trick is to set a problem aside. Tegger had almost reached the light above him when it all came together in his mind.

Water. Ramp. Lights. Vampires below, stranded City Builders above. The cruisers!

There was more to be learned, but Tegger knew what he had to do now. And afterward … ultimately he’d love help.

All over the floating industrial structure, lights were going on.

Valavirgillin was hurting for lack of sleep. Soon she would seek her bed. But they were so beautiful.

Her mind drifted.

Food was ru

A few vampires were hunting around the Shadow Nest’s garbage dump. They must be hungry, Vala thought, but they were having some success. Warvia reported scavengers no Red had ever seen before. Perhaps Ghouls killed competing scavengers where they could.

Fudghabladl had said they rolled corpses into the Homeflow. The vampires’ numbers must have been smaller then. Now they stacked them away from the river. Scavengers came for the bodies, and starving vampires hunted them for their blood.

The cruisers were once again parked back-to-back, with sentries on duty. Vampires had ignored them on the first night. They’ve had the whole day to watch us. As we watched them.

In a day or two the stored grass would be gone. The giants would have to forage in the lowlands, in daylight only, with companions to guard them. The Ghouls might find forage, too. Vampire prisoners must die during the trek home.

Grieving Tube spoke. “Power ca

Valavirgillin didn’t jump, didn’t look around. “I know.”

“Unusual. Some wire must have survived the Fall of the Cities, or else come under the Arch afterward. Where would a Red Herder find such?”

“In my pack, I think,” Valavirgillin said. Ghouls know all secrets. “A good thing for Tegger. He would have died at the river.”

“Yes.”

Into the silence Valavirgillin said, “Louis Wu left me a stack of—it has a long name—superconductor cloth. I traded it to the City Builder families of a floating city. They used it to repair their lights and water condensers.

“So, I was rich. I took Tarablilliast for my mate. I bore three children. I invested in a project to make what Louis Wu described. Plastic. Tarablilliast has never criticized me for wasting our money.” Never but once, she remembered. “After all, it was my wealth. He brought little to the mating.”

“This plastic.” Grieving Tube’s pronunciation was the exact imitation of Valavirgillin’s. “Does it have a name in our tongues?”

“I think not. Louis described stuff that could be made from the nasty residue after one makes fuel. Scentless. Taking any shape. He showed me one or two plastic things. Otherwise, I was guessing.

“Tarbavala Labs has produced results … answers … nothing we can sell. Tarb and our parents are taking care of our children while I scramble for money to keep our concerns going. I thought a trading expedition would serve me. Persuading hominid cultures to make alcohol commands a bounty. Trade is wealth on top of that.”

“How long have you been gone?”

“Nearly ten falans.”

“Too long?”

“I don’t know. I’ve mated. Tarb never bargained for that.” Vala shook her head. “I need sleep.”

“I will watch.”