The Sky People
by Poul Anderson
The Rover Fleet got there just before sunrise. From its height, five thousand feet, the land was bluish gray, smoked with mists. Irrigation canals caught the first light as if they were full of mercury. \Vestward the ocean gleamed, its far edge dissolved into purple and a few stars.
Loklann sunna Holber leaned over the gallery rail of his flagship and pointed a telescope at the city. It sprang to view as a huddle of walls, flat roofs, and square watchtowers. The cathedral spires were tinted rose by a hidden sun. No barrage balloons were up. It must be true what rumor said, that the Perio had abandoned its outlying provinces to their fate. So the portable wealth of Meyco would have flowed into Sв Anton, for safekeepingчwhich meant that the place was well worth a raid. Loklann grinned.
Robra sunna Stam, the Buffaloвs mate, spoke. гBest we come down to about two thousand,д he suggested. гJust to be sure the men arenвt blown sideways, to the wrong side of the town walls.д
гAye.д The skipper nodded his helmeted head. гTwo thousand, so be it.д
Their voices seemed oddly loud up here, where only the wind and a creak of rigging had broken silence. The sky around the royers was dusky immensity, tinged red gold in the east. Dew lay on the gallery deck. But when the long wooden horns blew signals, it
was somehow not an interruption, nor was the distant shouting of orders from other vessels, thud of crew fleet, clatter of windlasses and hand-operated compressor pumps. To a Sky Man, those sounds belonged in the upper air.
Five great craft spiraled smoothly downward. The first sunrays flashed off gilt figureheads, bold on sharp gondola prows, and rioted along the extravagant designs painted on gas bags. Sails and rudders were unbelievably white across the last western darkness.
гHullo, there,д said Loklann. He had been studying the harbor through his telescope. гSomething new. What could it be?д
He offered the tube to Robra, who held it to his remaining eye. Within the glass circle lay a stone dock and warehouses, centuries old, from the days of the Perioвs greatness. Less than a fourth of their capacity was used now. The normal clutter of wretched little fishing craft, a single coasting schooner. . . and yes, by Oktai the Stormbringer, a monster thing, bigger than a whale, seven masts that were impossibly tall!
гI donвt know.д The mate lowered the telescope. гA foreigner? But where from? Not in all this continentчд
гI never saw any arrangement like that,д said Loklann. гSquare sails on the topmasts, fore-and-aft below.д He stroked his short beard. It burned like spun copper in the morning light; he was one of the fairhaired blue-eyed men, rare even among the Sky People and unheard of elsewhere. гOf course,д he said, гweвre no experts on water craft. We only see them in passing.д A not unamiable contempt rode his words: sailors made good slaves, at least, but naturally the only fit vehicle for a fighting man was a rover abroad and a horse at home.
гProbably a trader,д he decided. гWeвll capture it if possible.д
He turned his attention to more urgent problems. He had no map of 5в Anton, had never even seen it before. This was the farthest south any Sky People had yet gone plundering, and almost as far as any had ever visitedчin bygone days aircraft were still too primitive and the Perio too strong. Thus Loklann must scan the city from far above, through drifting white vapors, and make his
plan on the spot. Nor could it be very complicated, for he had only signal flags and a barrel-chested hQllerer with a n~egaphone to pass orders to the other vessels.
гThat big plaza in front of the temple,д he murmured. гOur contingent will land there. Let the Stormcloud men tackle that big building east of it. . . see. . . it looks like a chiefвs dwelling. Over there, along the north wall, typical barracks and parade groundчCoyote can deal with the soldiers. Let the Witch of Heaven men land on the docks, seize the seaward gun emplacements and that strange vessel, then join the attack on the garrison. Fire Elkвs crew should land inside the east city gate and send a detachment to the south gate, to bottle in the civilian population. Having occupied the plaza, Iвll send reinforcements wherever theyвre needed. All clear?д
He snapped down his goggles. Some of the big men crowding about him wore chain armor, but he preferred a cuirass of harden leather, Mong style; it was nearly as strong and a lot lighter. He was armed with a pistol, but had more faith in his battle ax. An archer could shoot almost as fast as a gun, as accuratelyчand firearms were getting fabulously expensive to operate as sulfur sources dwindled.
He felt a tightness which was like being a little boy again, opening presents on Midwinter Morning. Oktai knew what treasures he would find, of gold, cloth, tools, slaves, of battle and high deeds and eternal fame. Possibly death. Someday he was sure to die in combat: he had sacrificed so much to his josses, they wouldnвt grudge him war-death and a chance to be reborn as a Sky Man.
гLetвs go!д he said.
He sprang up on a gallery rail and over. For a moment the world pinwheeled, now the city was on top and now again his Buffalo streaked past. Then he pulled the ripcord and his harness slammed him to steadiness. Around him it bloomed with scarlet parachutes. He gauged the wind and tugged a line, guiding himself down.
U
Don Miwel Carab‡n, calde of Sв AntOn dв Inio, arranged a lavish feast for his Maurai guests. It was not only that this was a historic occasion, which might even mark a turning point in the long decline. (Don Miwel, being that rare combination, a practical man who could read, knew that the withdrawal of Perio troops to Brasil twenty years ago was not a гtemporary adjustment.д They would never come back. The outer provinces were on their own.) But the strangers must be convinced that they had found a nation rich, strong, and basically civilized: that it was worthwhile visiting the Meycan coasts to trade, ultimately to make alliance against the northern savages.
The banquet lasted till nearly midnight. Though some of the old irrigation canals had choked up and never been repaired, so that cactus and rattlesnake housed in abandoned pueblos, Meyco Province was still fertile. The slant-eyed Mong horsemen from Tekkas had killed off innumerable peons when they raided five years back; wooden pitchforks and obsidian hoes were small use against saber and arrow. It would be another decade before population was back to normal and the periodic famines resumed. Thus Don Miwel offered many courses, beef, spiced ham, olives, fruits, wines, nuts, coffee, which last the Sea People were unfamiliar with and didnвt much care for, et cetera. Entertainment followedчmusic, jugglers, a fencing exhibition by some of the young nobles.
At this point the surgeon of the Dolphin, who was rather drunk, offered to show an Island dance. Muscular beneath tattoos, his brown form went through a series of contortions which pursed the lips of the dignified Dons. Miwel himself remarked, гIt reminds me somewhat of our peonsв fertility rites,д with a strained courtesy that suggested to Captain Ruori Rangi Lohannaso that peons had an altogether different and not very nice culture.
The surgeon threw back his queue and grinned. гNow letвs bring
the shipвs wahines ashore to give them a real hula,д he said in Maurai-Ingliss.
гNo,д answered Ruori. гI feaf we may have shocked them already. The proverb goes, ОWhen in the Solmon Islands, darken your skin.вд
гI donвt think they know how to have any fun,д complained the doctor.
гWe donвt yet know what the taboos are,д warned Ruori. гLet us be as grave, then, as these spike-bearded men, and not laugh or make love until we are back on shipboard among our wahines.д
гBut itвs stupid! Shark-toothed Nan eat me if Iвm going toчд
гYour ancestors are ashamed,д said Ruori. It was about as sharp a rebuke as you could give a man whom you didnвt intend to fight. He softened his tone to take out the worst sting, but the doctor had to shut up. Which he did, mumbling an apology and retiring with his blushes to a dark corner beneath faded murals.
Ruori turned back to his host. гI beg your pardon, Sвflor,д he said, using the local tongue. гMy menвs command of Spaflol is even less than my own.д -
гOf course.д Don Miwelвs lean black-cald form made a stiff little bow. It brought his sword up, ludicrously like a tail. Ruori heard a smothered snort of laughter from one of his officers. And yet, thought the captain, were long trousers and ruffled shirt any worse than sarong, sandals, and clan tattoos? Different customs, no more. You had to sail the Maurai Federation, from Awaii to his own NвZealann and west to Mlaya, before you appreciated how big this planet was and how much of it a mystery.
гYou speak our language most excellently, Sв–or,д said Doflita Tresa Carab‡n. She smiled. гPerhaps better than we, since you studied texts centuries old before embarking, and the Spaflol has changed greatly since.д
Ruori smiled back. Don Miwelвs daughter was worth it. The rich black dress caressed a figure as good as any in the world; and, while the Sea People paid less attention to a womanвs face, he saw that hers was proud and well-formed, her fatherвs eagle beak softened to a curve, luminous eyes and hair the color of midnight
oceans. It was too bad these Meycansчthe nobles, at leastч thought a girl should be reserved solely for the husband they eventually picked for her. He would have liked her to swap her pearls and silver for a lei and go out in a shipвs canoe, just the two of them, to watch the sunrise and make love.
Howeverч
гIn such company,д he murmured, гI am stimulated to learn
the modern language as fast as possible.д
She refrained from coquetting with her fan, a local habit the Sea People found alternately hilarious and irritating. But her lashes fluttered. They were very long, and her eyes, he saw, were goldflecked green. гYou are learning cabвllero manners just as fast, Sвnor,д she said.
гDo not call our language Оmodemв, I pray you,д interrupted a scholarly looking man in a long robe. Ruori recognized Bispo Don Carlos Ermosillo, a high priest of that Esu Canto who seemed cognate with the Maurai Lesu Haristi. гNot modern, but corrupt. I too have studied old books, printed before the War of Judgment. Our ancestors spoke the true Spaflol. Our version of it is as distorted as our present-day society.д He sighed. гBut what can one expect, when even among the well-born, not one in ten can write his own name?д
гThere was more literacy in the high days of the Perio,д said Don Miwel. гYou should have visited us a hundred years ago, Sвnor Captain, and seen what our race was capable of.д
гYet what was the Perio itself but a successor state?д asked the Bispo bitterly. гIt unified a large area, gave law and order for a while, but what did it create that was new? Its course was the same sorry tale as a thousand kingdoms before, and therefore the same judgment has fallen on it.д
Doflita Tresa crossed herself. Even Ruori, who held a degree in engineering as well as navigation, was shocked. гNot atomics?д he exclaimed.
гWhat? Oh. The old weapons, which destroyed the old world. No, of course not.д Don Carlos shook his head. гBut in our more limited way, we have been as stupid and sinful as the legendary
forefathers, and the results have been parallel. You may call it human greed or el Dioвs punishment as you will; I think the two mean much the same thing.д
Ruori looked closely at the priest. гI should like to speak with you further, Sвnor,д he said, hoping it was the right title. гMen who know history, rather than myth, are rare these days.д
