Again Silence Greeted the Yngling's Question
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OUT OF THE FRYING PAN "You do not answer." Again silence greeted the Yngling's question. "Each tribe has a law against slander, and the council a law against lies in its meetings. Men are seldom charged under them unless the lie is harmful, and I will not charge you now. But . ." The Yngling's words were cut short by a keening noise from the other's throat, a keen•ing that quickly grew to a howl of rage. Fum•bling, wrenching, the chief tore off hissleeveless leather shirt, drew his sword, andcharged the lagman . The Yngling's sword was out too, and blind-eyed he met the man's berserk assault. The vio•lent energy and quickness of Jäävklo's attackwas shocking to Baver, who'd never before wit• nessed an attack to kill. But the lagman beat off the berserker's strokes, seemingly withoutany effort to strike back; either he was too hard pressed or he exercised an unexplainablerestraint. The Jäävklo's sword broke against the lag-man's , almost at the hilt. With a howl, he flung the rest of it at his adversary, then turned and threw himself on the council fire. Baen Books From John Dalmas The Regiment The White Regiment The Kalifs War The Lizard War Fanglith Return to Fanglith The Reality Matrix The General's President JOHN DALMAS THE YNGLING AND THE CIRCLE OF POWER This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events por-trayed in this book are fictional, and any Page 1 resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. Copyright © 1992 by John Dalmas All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. A Baen Books Original Baen Publishing EnterprisesP.O. Box 1403 Riverdale, N.Y.10471 ISBN: 0-671-72106-2Cover art by Darrell Sweet First printing, February 1992 Distributed bySIMON & SCHUSTER1230 Avenue of the AmericasNew York, N.Y.10020 Printed in theUnited States of America This story is dedicated to SPIDER and JEANNE ROBINSON PROLOG The Sanctuary was semi-dark, lit by a single, large oillamp that set blurred shadows trembling and jumping. Seven men, robed in silk, sat in a circle on straw mats, legs folded beneath them. Another sat in the center.Their shaven heads were upright. Lamplight flickered on calm faces, glinting on eyes otherwise black, giving off an aroma too mild to conceal the fragrance of Koreanpine from panels, timbers and floor. As dark as the room,was the sound that came from their throats—a deep and droning "OM," protracted and near the limit of audibil•ity, like the dying hum of some great bell. They were questing. Vague images flicked behind un•focused eyes. Now and then something vaguely recogniz•able came to them, to be gone before it stopped shimmering. They didn't try to hold them. When—if— they found something significant, it would stay to beexamined. After a bit, they got one clearly, of conical tents—a campground—with a village of log huts not far behind it. Behind the image was a sense of context; this wassome tribal gathering. The picture, still wavering, shifted, 1 2 then focused on a very large, physically powerful man. Aman without eyes, they somehow knew, who nonetheless carried a sword. A man without eyes who walked briskly,meaningfully. Suddenly he stopped. And turned as if tolook at the men who spied on him from their Circle ofPower. He did have eyes, strange eyes without pupils, thatsomehow seemed to lock with their collective gaze. Then the vision wavered and was gone, and they knew withoutdiscussion that they would not get it back. The emperor, Songtsan Gampo, sat in his study beforeopen, glass-paned doors. A light cool wind blew from the northwest across the Yan Mountains, played with the sil•ver wind chimes on his balcony, and touched his face. Above his left shoulder an oil lamp, its flame shieldedby a glass chimney, cast faintly Page 2 yellow light on the manu• script he read. Remotely he heard a small gong—heard and registered, and ignored. A minute later there was stirring at his corridor door, and an exchange of muted words. Then his doorguard entered, a giant humanoidwith short, rich-brown fur. It cleared its throat softly. "Your Magnificence," it murmured. Songtsan Gampo lowered the manuscript and turnedwithout speaking. "His Reverence, Tenzin Geshe, wishes to speak withYour Magnificence." Dark eyes regarded the doorman. "Send him in." The geshe could have communicated with him telepathically; given the Circle of Power, the distance fromthe gomba, the monastery, was no problem. But the em•peror didn't allow mental intrusions except when he'd ordered them, or in true emergencies. One sent or car•ried messages, on paper or orally. Tenzin Geshe enteredthe room and bowed low. He would not speak until in•vited to. "Yes?" the emperor asked. "Your Magnificence," said the geshe, "your Circle ofPower has been questing. And we have seen a man ..." 3 He opened his mind to his emperor then, rerunning theexperience. When the geshe had completed his brief report, hewas dismissed. The emperor sat with the manuscript ig•nored on his lap. The Circle had learned nothing explicit, except that the man existed and what he looked like. And that he'd been aware of them observing him, and had broken the connection. A man of unusual power then,obviously, but where he was, and of what people, there'd been no clue. There had been a limited knowingness with the vision,however: the man was far away, and was important tohim. There'd been no sign of what the importance might be. Logic suggested that the man would lead an army against his, when the time of conquest came, but thatwas only logic, not knowledge. Songtsan Gampo sat with his mind clear of thoughts, waiting quietly for more, but no more came. PART ONE DEPARTURE ONE The council fire flickered ruddy-yellow, lighting theNeoviking chiefs who sat around it. It was a very large fire, by the standards of a people whose summer firesnormally were small: fires for cooking, and smoke fires to drive the mosquitoes from their log houses. Ted Baver squatted unobtrusively as part of the ring of chiefs, an honor granted him as a representative ofthe star folk. He had no role in their council, of course. He was there to watch, listen, record, and in the pro•cess learn. He held a small audio-video recorder beforehis face, as if aiming a pistol, and through and around its simple, fold-out viewing frame he watched theproceedings. Page 3 He'd grown used to squatting, this past year. Occasion•ally, absently, he squashed mosquitoes on his face withhis left hand. The thump of an insect-hunting nighthawkbraking overhead did not catch his attention. He was engrossed in the dispute before the council, aiming hisrecorder at whoever was speaking, capturing their wordsand image. 7 8 Jäävklo,* chief of the Glutton Clan, got to his feet.He was wide-framed, with remarkably muscular arms, his muscles more ropy than bulky. His face was creased, but at fifty feet by firelight, his black hair seemed ungrayed, and the skin on his arms, shoulders and neck was still tight. Baver guessed his age at between forty and forty-five. Jäävklo spoke loudly, that the throng of northmen could hear, the hundreds who squatted unseen on the slope above the council fire. "Here is my answer to Ulf Varjsson of the Wolf Clan," he said. "In the Homeland, we of the Glutton** Clan had the poorest territory of all the Svear. It was poorest to start with, and as the world grew colder, it became impossible to feed ourselves ade•quately. Nor would the Reindeer Clan or the Salmon Clan adjust their boundaries with us. When we brought it up in council, Axel Stornäve refused to require it of them. There was bad blood between the two of us, Axel and me, and so he refused. "Now the tribes have come to a new land, and pos•sessed it, dividing it, each clan marking its own. The Glutton Clan has built cairns at their corners, and other cairns at needful places, according to the agreement among the tribes. Yet here at the ting, we find the Wolf people complaining that we encroach on them! We en•croach on no one! We have done all things according to the agreement!" He looked around the circle scowling, then squatted down again in the place that was his. Nils Järnhann got up then, a huge, muscular young man only twenty-two years old, scarred on legs, face, and shoulder. His eyes were sky-blue glass, crafted by a machinist aboard the jump ship Phaeacia. They fitted properly but were conspicuously artificial, and around them the sockets were sunken. He turned his face to *For those who are interested, a brief pronunciation guide forNeoviking names and words is included in the appendix. **Also known as the wolverine. 9 Jäävklo as if the glass eyes saw. He was lagman of the People—reciter and interpreter of the Law and arbiterof disputes, who also presided when crimes were broughtbefore the council. "And the corners are on the tails of two ridges?" heasked. His voice seemed quieter than Jäävklo's, and mild, but it could be heard clearly by the tribesmen higheston the slope. Jäävklo answered without rising. "They are." "Can the tail of one ridge be seen from the other?" "Distantly, yes." Page 4 The lagman's wide mouth pursed briefly before he spoke. "The complaint of Ulf Varjsson, chief of the Wolves, has been heard, and also its denial by Jäävklo,chief of the Gluttons.