The Ringworld Throne

The Hindmost said, “Agreement?”

“I’ll work out a contract.”

“You are in a poor position to bargain.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Louis said. He got up and waded back through the river … waiting for the musical scream behind him. It didn’t come.

Louis came awake slowly, groggy from lack of sleep. Sawur felt good, moving against him. He asked, “Do Weavers rish at sunglare?”

“By preference, we do.”

“Stet.” Louis got his arms working and began ru

“Thank you.” She stretched along his length. Her fingers caressed his scalp, grooming what hair she could find. They moved easily into rishathra.

It was a wonderful lifestyle, in its way.

Presently Sawur pulled back to look at him. “Tired or not, you seem very relaxed.”

“I think I’ve got him.”

Night.

“I have formulated a contract,” the Hindmost said.

“So have I,” Louis Wu said. He held up his translator. “It’s in memory, mostly in notes.”

“I can’t read that. We’ll have to work from here.” The cliff abruptly glowed with lines of print, black on white, and a virtual keyboard taller than Louis himself.

Their audience murmured appreciatively. Most of the villagers were seated around Louis. Louis wondered what they thought they were seeing.

He’d been making notes toward his own contract all afternoon. To work from the Hindmost’s instead of his own would violate a basic principle of negotiation. Louis didn’t intend that.

But another principle said that a negotiator should never admit to being under a deadline. Louis asked in Interspeak, “How do I work it?”

“Point,” the Hindmost said. “Left for cursor, right to type.”

Louis tried it, waving his arms like an ambidextrous orchestra conductor. {Mental patterns may require alteration}—Louis deleted that and wrote, {Mental patterns must not be altered for any purpose.} The section on {PAYMENT} looked reasonable: he was to be charged for work comparable to treatment in hospitals at Sol system, paid off in service not to exceed twelve years.

Hold it–“Boosterspice and standard tech?”

“By no means.”

“What then, puppeteer experiments?”

“I’ve tried to describe what I have available, a modified ARM X-program.”

“You can’t compute the cost of this thing against fees payable at a Sol hospital! Your system would give me another thirty years of life, roughly speaking, wouldn’t it? I’ll give you seven years of service following my emergence from the ’doc.”

“Twelve! Louis, this system will rewrite you to the age of twenty! You’d get another fifty years with no further medical treatment at all!”

“The risks you’ll put me through, I’ll be lucky to get fifty good days, and you know it. That’s why I went on sabbatical in the first place. Seven.”

“Stet.”

Louis pointed with his left forefinger, the cursor. {Time expended shall be computed only for discrete actions taken at the direction of the Hindmost.} “Now what is this flup? What about consultation time? Travel time? Actions done without consulting you because there’s no time? Subconscious problem-solving during sleep?”

“Write it in.”

“Your motives are questionable. No honest entity would have tried that.”

“This is how negotiation works, Louis.”

“You’re going to teach me how to negotiate? Stet.” Louis erased the offending sentence, then typed one-fingered on the air. {Service period shall terminate seven years after acceptance of this contract.} He ignored the squawk of distress. “Now I need a clause to protect me from being altered into a better servant. I don’t see anything in here that will do that.”

Text added itself. Louis watched for a bit, then said, “No.”

“Write, then.”

“No. Can you think of any way to get yourself a copy of my contract?”

“No.”

“It’ll have to wait for me to reach Hidden Patriarch, then. I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Wait! Louis, I can easily find you here.”

“Hindmost, I think I’ll have to insist on your accepting my contract, not yours. If you can’t read it, how can you suggest changes?”

“You must read it to me aloud.”

“Tomorrow. Now, something else has been bothering me. How long does it take you to shape a plume from the sun and then set off the superthermal laser effect?”

“Two hours, sometimes three. Conditions vary.”

“Three ships came through Fist-of-God, near here, and someone blasted them. One landed on the far side of the Ringworld and something blasted it. Did that take longer? What with all the fast-forward action, I just couldn’t tell.”

“I will look.”

Louis woke late. Sawur and the children were gone. Nothing edible remained from last night. Louis worked near the empty firepit.

{No entity or process shall alter Louis Wu’s patterns of thought by medical or chemical means nor by any means save persuasion worked while Louis Wu is fully conscious and in his right mind. No agreements made while he is not fully conscious and in his right mind shall be binding.}

{The period of servitude}—Louis crossed out “servitude.” —{mutual dependence shall end no more than seven years after acceptance of this contract. Wu shall be entitled to sleep, meals, and periods of healing as required. Emergencies interrupting these free times shall shorten the period of mutual dependence at triple time. Penalties for violations … vacation periods mutually agreed upon shall extend the period of mutual dependence … Louis Wu may refuse any command if in his sole judgment the commission involves undue risk, undue damage to local hominids or their culture or their environment, global damage to the Ringworld, or clear ethical violations.} A few talking points wouldn’t hurt.

He’d become ferociously hungry. He knew where to find more roots. Louis rode the cargo stack straight up to seek out a path, and saw children milling in the upland woods across the Shenthy River.

Sawur had found two big mushrooms of different species, and the children had killed a land-going crustacean as big as a rabbit. They watched with interest as Louis wrapped them in leaves and then wet clay. He dug his flash out of the lockbox on his cargo stack. With the flash on microwave, wide aperture, medium intensity, he heated the mound of clay until it puffed steam. Then he carefully locked the flash away. A dangerous thing to leave loose.

“Strill, Parald, keep the rest away from the clay. It’ll burn you. Sawur? I want to make you a parting gift.”

“Louis, are we to part?”

“The Web Dweller sent his refueling probe to spray the cliff. It must be nearby. I expect he could have it here in a few hours.” He hopped off the plates. “Let me show you this now. I’m wondering if it should go to you or to the whole village.”

The cargo plate controls were depressions on the rims, and they took some strength to move. Protector strength. Louis jabbed with a slender piece of rod held in both hands. The bottommost plate dropped from his stack and floated an inch above the grass.

Sawur asked, “Will you present it tonight? Give it to the village in charge of me and Kidada. I will be as surprised as any. Show him and me how to work it, but none other, and no visitors.”

“Stet.”

“This is a magnificent gift, Louis.”

“Sawur, you’ve given me my life. I think. Maybe.”

“Do you still doubt?”

“Give me a moment.” Louis knocked the clay off one end of his mound. The mushrooms looked and smelled done.

They tasted wonderful. He broke open the rest of the mound and found the crawler done, too. Most of the meat was in the spi

“That’s better. I’m not rational when I’m that hungry. Now look.” Louis drew a ring in the dirt. “Light takes thirty-two minutes to cross the Ringworld and come back.” He heard the translator converting times and distances.