SIXTEEN

Addie Explains

We headed north along the main Cambrianopolis road. I was driving, with the Helping Hand^™ making easy work of the half-track’s ridiculously heavy steering. Perkins was in the passenger seat with Addie between us, and the princess just behind. The fields we drove past contained cultivated almond tree groves, from which refined marzoleum was derived; the syrupy oil was used for fondant icing, sunblock, window putty, aviation spirit, and pretty much anything in between.

Curtis and his friends had been standing in the back of the vehicle because they thought they looked cool and manly, at least until the dust, flies, and road debris got in their eyes and mouths. With eyes streaming and throats sore, they bravely sat in the rear instead.

I looked back to make sure they weren’t within earshot, then said to Addie, “Why were you so eager for Curtis and his dopey friends to come along?”

“Simple. We need those three to make up the fifty percent fatalities.”

This made me uneasy. “That’s not a great thing to hear.”

“Perhaps not, but this is: You’ll go home safely, and Curtis and his losers get to be the honored dead. What’s not great about that?”

“A lot,” I replied. “Everyone matters, even those three.”

“I don’t think they do,” said the princess. “If they never came back, it wouldn’t change much. Their families would be a bit glum, but they’d get over it. Besides, you don’t come to Cambria without accepting at least the possibility of tragedy.”

“I know you’re not actually a handmaiden,” said Addie astutely, “what with your un-servantlike manner and all, but you speak my language.”

“Well, I don’t,” I replied. “I’m not having those three used as cannon fodder.”

“They knew the risks,” said Addie, “and so did you when you agreed to the trip. I offered you a fifty percent fatality index, and you accepted it. No point getting all precious about it now.”

“We were taking the responsibility for ourselves,” I said, “not other people.”

“And you still are,” said Addie with a shrug. “I can only guarantee the fifty percent. I can’t say for certain who will live and who will die.”

Addie’s logic was strange, but did ring true—sort of. We fell silent for a few moments.

“Have you lost many tourists?” asked Perkins.

“Hundreds,” said Addie nonchalantly. “I used to keep count, but after a while there were just too many. You always remember the first and the youngest and the one you liked most, but after that they’re simply a blur.”

“Wait a moment,” said the princess. “Jennifer, me, Porkins, you, Ignatius, Ralph, and Curtis only make up seven. If you expect a fifty percent casualty rate, how does that work?”

“We’ll pick up someone on the trip,” said Addie. “We always do. It’ll pan out, you’ll see. I have a gift.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” said the princess. “What’s that up ahead?”

On the road someone had painted SORRY in large letters.

“Hunker down!” shouted Addie, and we all did as she said. The half-track had an armored flap that could be swung down in front of the windshield in case of attack. Addie reached up and released the catch; the flap swung down with a bang, leaving the driver a small slot to see through. A second or two later, the first bullet hit the vehicle, followed by a second, then a third.

“Don’t stop,” Addie told me.

The air was suddenly heavy with the crack of rifle fire and the metallic spang of bullets as they bounced off the half-track.

“Okay,” said Addie as if we were doing nothing more unusual than driving through heavy hail. “Here’s the plan: We’ll enter the Empty Quarter soon and stay at the Claerwin Reservoir tonight; they have some pod-poles. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll reach Llangurig and visit your friend. We’ll stay the night there and then head off into Mountain Silurian territory to get to the foot of Cadir Idris. We’ll search for the Leviathans’ Graveyard on its rocky slopes until you give up—which you will, because the graveyard doesn’t exist—and then return.”

“Good plan,” I said, “although our plans really depend on what my friend in Llangurig says—I’m not keen on going any farther than we have to.”

I wasn’t wild about the idea of climbing the mountain. Cadir Idris was known not just for its stark beauty—a soaring pinnacle of sheer rock almost six thousand feet high, it was the highest in the Cambrian Range—but for the number of people who had vanished on its rocky slopes. Despite numerous expeditions, no one in modern times had reached the summit, or if anyone had, they had not returned to tell about it. I’d risk our lives if there was a chance of finding the Eye of Zoltar, but not if there wasn’t.

“Don’t worry,” said Addie, mistaking my silence for nervousness. “Cadir Idris will be fun.”

“Ever been there?”

“No. That’s why it will be fun.”

As we drove on, the rifle fire slowly diminished until it stopped completely, and Addie gave us the all clear to raise our heads above the armored body of the half-track.

“What was that?” Perkins asked her.

“What was what?”

“The rifle fire?”

“Oh, that. I don’t know. The local warlord could be annoyed that they built the bypass around his village. It’s cut travel time by a third and reduced congestion, but it also means he can’t extract money from travelers—so he fires on any car that passes. It’s nothing really serious.”

“Unless you’re not in an armored car,” said Perkins.

“But everyone is,” said Addie simply. “Take the next left and continue on for about twenty miles.”

The half-track was neither fast nor quiet, so to conserve fuel and our eardrums I drove as slowly as practical. We spent the time taking in the spectacular local countryside. It was utterly unspoiled. There were few modern buildings, no shopping malls or fast food joints, and no billboards, electricity poles, or other modern contrivances. Away from the almond groves, broadleaf forests covered much of the lowlands; the small houses dotted haphazardly about were constructed of stone with riveted steel roofs, and all were fortified in some way.

“What’s a somnubuvorus?” asked the princess, who had been reading Enjoy the Unspoiled Charms of the Cambrian Empire Without Death or Serious Injury.

“It looks like a cross between a baobab and a turnip,” explained Addie, “and it’s about the size of a phone booth. It’s actually not a plant at all, but a fungus that releases puffs of hallucinogenic spores into the breeze. If you inhale them, you become suddenly convinced that being near the somnubuvorus will enlighten you with devastatingly relevant social and political commentary. Once there, of course, you are soon overcome with a sense of listlessness and torpidity, and fall fast asleep.”

“It sounds like what would happen if you weaponized French cinema,” I observed.

“Pretty much, if French cinema secretes enzymes from its roots and dissolves you while you sleep.”

“Yag,” said the princess, and returned to the book.

I had a thought. “Why did the gunners shoot down Col—I mean, that dragon just before we left?”

“That’s easily explained,” said Addie. “Emperor Tharv deplores mankind’s need to defy gravity, so he’s banned all aerial traffic above his empire. Because he wants to be equitable and just, he thinks that it would be unfair if birds, bats, insects, and so forth were allowed to fly—so he banned them, too.”

“And that includes dragons?”

“Right.”

“But that’s absurd,” said Perkins. “Are you saying that geese and pigeons and bees and bats and dragons and stuff can’t fly at all in the empire?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“And how does the emperor expect to enforce that?”

Addie shrugged. “He can’t, obviously, except—”

“Except what?”

“Have you seen anything that flies since you arrived?”

Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t think I had.

“If there are no airplanes in Cambria,” said Perkins, pointing toward two trucks stopped in the road while their drivers chatted, “what about them?”

The trucks were painted with the pale blue logo of Skybus Aeronautics. As we watched, the one heading into the empire lumbered forward with a grinding of gears while the one heading out accelerated away.

“Aircraft components,” said Addie. “Emperor Tharv may not support flying, but he does apparently have an aircraft component factory somewhere in the empire.”

“It doesn’t sound like a very consistent policy, does it?”

Addie shrugged. “Perhaps not. But as insane as he is, he does okay for us. Do you get free health care and child support in your country?”

“No.”

“We do. And even though the Cambrian Empire boasts the lowest life expectancy in the kingdoms, at least we get to live our short lives in a way that is full of interest, fun, and adventure. Which would you prefer? A short life as a tiger or a long one as a rabbit? I’m with the tiger.”

“The only place where we don’t agree,” I replied after some thought, “is that I think everyone should have the choice to be a tiger or a rabbit—or anything in-between.”