John Brunner by Times Without Number

Author:Times Without Number [Number, Times Without]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-08-26T22:39:43+00:00

V

The jesutt master-theoretician of the Society of Time got down from his carriage, bird-like head cocked as he surveyed the fantastic scene. He said, "I fail to see, my son, why my arrival in the middle of this to-do should so excite you, but something tells me that I shall not enjoy learning the facts, enlighten me."

Rapidly Don Miguel summed up the catastrophe as far as he knew of it—the mysterious attackers beyond the river, the burning of the palace, the unknown fate of the royal family, the refugees streaming north, his being in the company of the Lady Kristina of Scania, her concern about her father, then last of all the astonishing apparition of the girl in blue feathers.

Father Ram6n started. "Describe this woman!" he said sharply. As well as he could, Don Miguel obeyed, and was appalled to see the expression that came to the older man's face. It was as though the words were blows from an enchanter's wand, each one aging him by another year.

"Do you think you know what her origin is?" he demanded.

"Yes, my son. I fear I do," the Jesuit said heavily. "And to judge from your reaction, it seems that you do also."

Don Miguel did not know whether to be relieved that his guesswork had been so accurate, or horrified for the same reason. He said, "But then—"

"Let us not speculate too far," Father Ramon interrupted. "How can we find with some degree of accuracy what has transpired at the palace?"

"Ah—just as you arrivedl" Don Miguel said. "My friend Don Felipe Basso has swum the river, pierced with strange arrows but living when he came ashore. They are ministering to him—see, there on the bank!" He pointed.

Father Ramón headed towards the white oudine of the Sister of Mercy like a shot from a gun. Don Miguel glanced at Kristina; it was clear from her paleness and her trembling hps that she was using her self-control to its uttermost. He put his arm comfortingly around her and led her to Don Felipe's side.

Father Ramón was already kneeling there, head turned to the medical orderly. "Will he live?" was the crisp question. If the answer was negative, Extreme Unction must precede any questioning, of course. But the medical orderly, tossing bloody dressings into the river, nodded.

"He's tough as oak, Father," he said. "Hell live."

Don Miguel heaved a sigh of relief and bent close to Father Ramon's thin lips as they formed the crucial words. Don Felipe opened his eyes and tried to senile.

"You were lucky not to be there, Father," he whispered. "And Miguel—I thought you were ... No matter. God's name, what madness can have taken possession of them all?"

"Speak onl" Father Ramón commanded sternly. "Without fear or favor I charge you to speak unvarnished truth in the name of God and the Society!"

Don Felipe closed his eyes again, but his lips writhed and in halting whispers he outlined the dreadful truth.

Partly, it seemed, it was the fault of the Ambassador from the

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