The Ringworld Throne

Warvia said, “A little.”

Tegger said, “We court briefly and negotiate first. I suppose other hominids consider us shy or cold.”

“Hmm, yes—”

Grieving Tube said firmly, “Time runs short. We must mount the wagon. Barok, Forn, you’ll help before you leave?”

“We will. We’ve found livestock, too. What do you intend?”

“The wagon must sit solidly on the vehicle at the end of the starboard platform.”

“Is that a vehicle?”

It was one of three long floating platforms. Tegger might have taken it for a covered dance floor, tournament field, shooting range … The roof was transparent. The floor was flat, and five times as big as the cruiser’s wheelbase. Sturdy aluminum loops as big as his torso were recessed into the floor.

They centered the cruiser on the platform. Harpster and Grieving Tube supervised from under the awning while the rest threaded rope through aluminum loops and over and around the iron payload shell. They used pulleys to put tension on the ropes, until it seemed no force beneath the Arch would cause the wagon to shift.

They were done by midday. Barok and Forn began to gear up for their own journey.

“You’ll need food,” Tegger said. “Shall we smoke some shriekers?”

“Good. And I noticed something,” Barok said. He led them to his find: a shallow tray three manheights long by two wide, with lines trailing from holes at the corners. He lifted it effortlessly.

Warvia gri

“Yes. But first …”

The shrieker guard emerged to form rank.

First, the nets. They scooped up most of the guard, twisted the net and threw it aside.

Then the four dipped the edge of their tray into the loose sandy dirt and pushed and wiggled and pushed until the tray slid in and under. When they pulled at the ropes, the corners of the tray came up. They had a section of shrieker city on a tray.

The guard had been working their way free. What they saw maddened them. A swarm of them dug straight into the section of city on the tray, frantic lest it escape. The rest formed a crescent and screamed.

Lifting it took all the strength of all four, but they only had to carry it thirty paces. Then ropes and pulleys lifted it to the cemetery heights, and sliding posts on rails took it the rest of the way. They set it down aft of the cruiser, and slid the tray out from under the dirt.

Four shriekers still struggling in the net were pulled loose, killed, cleaned, and smoked over wood Barok pulled from a collapsed building. The Machine People drank as they worked, as much water as their bellies could carry. They left before halfnight.

Warvia and Tegger talked to the Night People while they inspected the work.

“Truly, we thought you, too, would leave us before now,” Harpster said. He was looking to spinward of port, where Foranayeedli and Sabarokaresh were tiny shadows.

The Sand People had mapped a path to other tribes. Traveling by night, the City Builders could bounce from one tent city to another until they were in green lands once again.

And where, Warvia wondered, would two Red Herders be by then?

Warvia explained: “Red Herders travel widely. Twenty daywalks is nothing. Where we settle, rumor and questions will catch us up. We make poor liars, Harpster. We must go farther. Best to do without the questions.”

Tegger said, “In twenty daywalks we’ve had rishathra with Machine People and Dryland Farmers and Sand People.”

Warvia remembered that her own experience was wider yet. Nobody spoke that truth, not even Harpster. He only gu

Warvia’s eyes dropped. She would rish, but not with a Ghoul, and Tegger wouldn’t either.

“But we acted without the encouragement of vampire musk,” Tegger said. “There is a restlessness in us—or me …?”

“Us,” Warvia said firmly. “Mated we are, but no longer for each other alone. I don’t doubt that we can return to our custom—”

“But we must be far from the rumor of Red Herders who rished with every species along their path! We’ve nearly left the Machine People empire behind. A little farther—”

Warvia said, “Five days, you said. How does this thing move?”

The Ghouls were at work closing the aft end of the great crystal canopy. Warvia began to feel claustrophobic. It bothered her, how little she and Tegger knew of where they were going.

She thought they would not answer; and then Harpster said, “Like this.” He moved a lever that took both arms and a strong back. The platform detached from the dock.

Motion was hard to see, it was so smooth, but the platform was clearly drifting away.

“How far are you going?” Tegger asked.

“Oh, easily farther than the rumors you’re fleeing.” Harpster gri

Grieving Tube strode around the bulk of the wagon. “Is this Barok’s work? He did well. Tegger, Warvia, we’re going as far as the rim wall. We can drop you off at the next stop if you like, or you can come along and then leave us coming back.”

Tegger laughed incredulously. “You’ll be dead of old age before you get to the rim wall!”

“Next stop, then,” Harpster said agreeably.

Grieving Tube chitter-whistled angrily. Harpster laughed and chittered back, whistling ribald-sounding comments through his teeth.

“Grieving Tube wants you,” he told the Red Herders. “She thinks we should travel with people who can look daylight in the face.”

“We only need to be outside Machine People turf,” Tegger said.

“Leave us when you like. But think! It’s serious work we’re doing. We’re going up the spill mountains and farther yet. No Red Herder has ever done anything so big. You’ll have so much to tell when you finally settle that you’ll never remember to speak of rishathra.”

The desert slid smoothly past. Warvia asked, “What are we riding?”

“It’s a Builder thing. I’ve only heard about them. None of the Night People would use an air sled unless the need was dire, but we have permission and directions.”

“How fast does it go?” The landscape was moving faster yet. The receding dockyard had become a dot. A sound was rising, as of wind heard through a sturdy stone wall.

“Fast. We’ll be below the spill mountains in five days.”

“No.”

“So I was told. But the first stop is only three days away.”

“I’m frightened.” Watching the world zip past was begi

“Warvia, there are lines under the land. In drawings they took like a honeycomb, and they lift and move Builder things. We can only stop where the lines come together.”

“Three days,” Grieving Tube repeated.

Far across the desert, a caravan of hominids and beasts popped up and was gone so quickly that Warvia couldn’t even identify the species. The air sled was still accelerating.

The payload shell smelled of Ghouls. It hummed. Warvia huddled against Tegger in the dark and didn’t speak of what was happening outside. They mated with an intensity backed by fear, and for that time Warvia entirely forgot where she was. But then the whisper of motion was back, and Tegger’s voice in the darkness to drown it out.

“What was Karker like?”

“Strong. Strange to hold: strangely shaped.”

“Down here …?”

“No, not here. His body was broad, shoulders and belly and hips. I think every man is alike here. And he was very eager to talk, to try his skill at trade language.”

“You only talked?”

Warvia giggled. “We rished. It was his first time. Imagine, Tegger! I was his teacher!”

“Did you tell him—”

“Of course. The only Red Herder woman who ever engaged in rishathra, and all his for the night. He loved it. Who were you with?”

“Hen—no, Hansheerv. I made sure I got her name right. She was the tall one, almost my size?” Warvia laughed at that, and he said, “The old leader’s widow, though she’s about my age. Of course we couldn’t talk. We tried to rish in the dark, but we couldn’t gesture that way, so we went outside and did it by Archlight.”