Destiny's Road

"If the mice lock us out," Jeremy murmured.

Glen glared. "It's bad for them too! They don't see any sapient creature outside their insular selves. It stunts their minds."

Harlow said, "They're inbred, too, but that is policy-"

"So, we know what we want," Jeremy said. "What if we don't get it?"

"Oh, we'll get it."

"That's good. Because we're here for two nights if we get it or not. Chugs can't forage in one place more than two nights ru

"The Spirals know it too," Glen said. "Remember, sell anything but speckles tomorrow." He crawled into the tent to sleep.

Jeremy kept walking, and Harlow followed.

Wagons were wide apart. Between tents they could not be overheard. Jeremy said, "Thank you."

"It's a joy," she said, "watching you keep your mouth shut."

"You terrify me. Are you with Steban tonight?"

"Tanya snatched him as soon as he was on board. Don't you notice, Jeremy? Or was that a joke?"

"He'll have you both. If she's any good-?"

"Very. And beautiful. And already pregnant."

"He'll wonder what you've got to match her. Anyway, you're mine tonight, if I can get you relaxed. So what would that take?"

She was silent.

She was thinking about all the way back to Bloocher Farm, and watching him the way an armed yutz watches the sea.

Downslope to shore, then across the overgrown fence, then up. Likely enough he'd be shot as a burglar.

Uphill would take him to the frost line. He'd crouch behind the brush like a nineteen-year-old, duckwalk past Mount Apollo and down into Spiral Town. The long way home, but Harlow couldn't guess who might give him refuge....

Or he could procure Spiral garb, recover his Spiral accent, and walk past the gate in a clump of shoppers.

"I've promised not to go home," he told her.

"Right."

"Harlow, do you think I'd leave these old birdfuckers alone to decide whether to turn us all into speckels-shies?"

Harlow put her fingertips over his mouth. Damn, he was getting too loud. She said, "Now who needs relaxing?"

"Me."

"Well, come back to the tent."

In the morning the chugs went into the sea again. Ten sharks followed them out. Three lay flopping when the rest fled.

"Six last night, then ten. They're getting smart," Angelo said.

"Smart?"

"For sharks. The first night, there's weed close to shore. Morning, the chugs have to go deeper for it. Next night, deeper yet. Next morning, even farther. The sharks get a better and better chance to catch a chug or two."

"They don't get smart, just hungry. The chugs are taking their food, Angelo."

Thousands of Spirals had come to watch the shark-shooting. Now they descended on the wagons.

Yutzes were sent to fetch the clocks, pottery, glassware, fruit, and vegetables piled beyond the gate. The prices for these had been agreed. They were told to leave the Begley cloth alone. By noon it was sparking and spitting lightning, not safe to touch.

The Spirals bought what the wagons sold, and couldn't believe that they couldn't buy speckles too. Jeremy gave away handfuls of festivity to all the children. He'd cut and roll more tonight.

Merchants were expected to wear eccentric dress. Pockets were always in fashion. Jeremy had built a big pocket over his belly and lined it, and he kept a generous handful of extra seeds inside to keep the jelly candies from sticking. It gave him a lumpy-rotund look.

Come evening, the Hearsts geared up for Warkan's Tavern. As they laid out cookware and the yutzes dug their pits, Jeremy found himself crouching down behind his persona. The last time he'd seen Warkan's Tavern, he'd killed a man.

Here came a forest of black devilhair and a row of chugs pushing it. Time to board the roofs.

Far up the Road, two electric wagons approached Warkan's Tavern. Maybe Spiral Town only had two; in Jeremy's youth they'd had four. These were empty but for five men.

They stopped at the gate. Five soberly dressed Spiral Town men went into the tavern and emerged on the second-floor balcony.

The chugs left off burrowing in the black weed, and moved uphill. Sharks zipped up the sand. Bullets spattered them; two fled, seven burrowed into the weed, four sped after the chugs. A hail of bullets stopped those.

"Smarter," Angelo grunted, and relaxed.

Seven sharks zipped out of the weed all at once, into the waves before anyone could quite react.

Harlow asked, "What would it cost to wipe out lungsharks?"

"We almost have," Glen Hearst said. "There used to be more. It's a bad idea, though. Without sharks we'd pay less attention to shark guns. Locals tend to be respectful if they've seen shark guns in action. Bandits too."

Tanya asked, "Harlow, don't you like shooting sharks?"

"I really do not." Tanya laughed.

Miller wagon was cooking di

They stopped, milling a bit, when the dignitaries came out of Warkan's Tavern and walked toward the caravan.

Glen Hearst said, "I think that's my di

Jemmy Bloocher's father had been of the Council, and the Council did usually take several wagonmasters to di

avans had come as far as the Hub. Later... but was it no

The Councilors were picking up elders from the wagons, not all, just some. Nobody from Krupp wagon, #2. Nine men re~ched Hearst wagon. One man took Glen Hearst aside and spoke to him, a casual and genial tone, words half-heard. "-Harry's Bar-"

Pat the special pocket: half-full. Pit chef Jeremy: obsequious, a bit effusive. First sight of Spiral Town: gape a little. Even Warkan 's Tavern is impressive. Damn, you can see buildings poking up in clusters a klick away! He felt himself wanting to overdo it.

"-And you must meet our pit chef from the finest restaurant on the Road, Jeremy Winslow."

Not much interested, Chairman Greegry Bloocher stepped forward to shake the cook's hand.

'Jeremy, some of us have been invited to di

"A recent invention, sir." Spiral Town accentanda complacent smile. Jeremy handed his brother a thumb of festivity candy. He watched Greegiy's appreciation, and offered a handful to the rest. Harlow was watching him like a magician's hat.

"Why don't you come to di

35

Spiral Town

Most cultures have understood that some are more equal than others. There were those who would not go to the stars, and there were those we not take.

-Captain Arnold Cohen aboard Argos, during negotiation

Electric wagons brought them back to the light and noise at Warkan's Tavern. Jeremy walked in behind Govert Miller. Harlow was with six other women on the women's side of the room. She saw him; he smiled; she dove back into animated conversation.

Jeremy looked around for company. He'd completely forgotten that he couldn't just sit down with his wife.

"There, Jeremy." Govert Miller meant a table of merchants, all men in their twenties, with one empty chair. Jeremy fielded one from another table and they sat.

Jeremy flagged a waiter and ordered drinks for the table, far too skillfully. The waiter was puzzled. Nobody else noticed. The elder Miller began an animated description of events at di