Jenny wondered guiltily if he could guess the essence of what Ralph Hiltch had said to her. Ill tell Dean to look out for a likely landing spot.
She hadnt even reached the wheel-house before Dean Folan was shouting urgently. Boat coming!
They went to the gunwale and peered ahead through the thin grey gauze of drizzle. The shape slowly resolved, and both of them watched it sail past with shocked astonishment.
It was a paddle-steamer which seemed to have ridden straight out of the nineteenth-century Mississippi River. Craft just like it were the inspiration behind Lalondes current fleet of paddle-boats. But while the Swithland and her ilk were bland distaff inheritors utilizing technology instead of engineering craftsmanship, this grande dame could have been a true original. Her paintwork was white and glossy, black iron stacks belched out a thick, oily smoke, pistons hissed and clanked as they turned the heavy paddles. Happy people stood on the decks, the handsome men in suits with long grey jackets, white shirts, and slender lace ties, their elegant women in long frilly dresses, casually twirling parasols on their shoulders. Children ran about, sporting gaily; the boys were in sailor suits, and the girls had ribbons in their flowing hair.
Its a dream, Jenny whispered to herself. Im living a dream.
The stately passengers were waving invitingly. Sounds of laughter and merrymaking rang clearly across the water. Earths mythical golden age had come back to nourish them with its supreme promise of unspoilt lands and uncomplicated times. The paddle-steamer was taking all folk of good will back to where todays cares would cease to exist.
The sight was tugging at the hearts of all on board the Isakore. There wasnt one of them who didnt feel the urge to jump into the river and swim across the gulf. The gulf: between them and bliss, an eternal joy of song and wine which waited beyond the cruel divide which was their own world.
Dont, Murphy Hewlett said.
Jennys euphoria shattered like crystal as the discordant voice struck her ears. Murphy Hewletts hand was on hers, pressing down painfully. She found her arms were rigid, tensed, ready to propel her over the side of the fishing boat.
What is that? she asked. At some deep level she was bemoaning the loss, being excluded from the journey into a different future; now she would never know if the promise was true ...
Dont you see? he said. Its them, whatever they are. Theyre growing. They dont care about us seeing them unmasked any more, they dont fear us.
The colourful solid mirage sailed on regally down the river, its wake of joyous invocation tarrying above the brown water like a dawn mist. Jenny Harris stayed at the gunwale for a long time, staring into the west.
The grove was a site of intense activity. Over two hundred people were working their way along the rows, positioning the collection cups around the weeping roses. It was early Duke-day; Duchess had just set, leaving a slight pink fringe splashing the western horizon. Between them, the two suns had banished all trace of moisture from the torrid air. Most of the men and women tending the big weeping roses wore light clothes. The younger children ran errands, bringing new stacks of collection cups to the teams, or supplying iced fruit juice from large jugs.
Joshua was feeling the heat despite being dressed in a burgundy sleeveless T-shirt and black jeans. He sat on the back of his horse watching the cupping teams at work. The cups that were being hung so carefully were white cardboard cones, with a waxed shiny inner surface, thirty centimetres wide at the open end, tapering down to a sealed point. Stiff hoops pasted onto the side were used to wire them onto the trellis below the weeping rose flowers. Everyone he could see carried a thick bundle of wires tucked into their belt. It didnt take more than thirty seconds for them to fix each cup.
Is there one collection cup for every single flower? he asked.
Louise was sitting on her horse next to him, dressed in jodhpurs and a plain white blouse, hair held by a single band at the back. She had been surprised when he accepted her invitation to take the horses rather than use a carriage to get about the estate. Where would a starship captain learn how to ride? But ride he could. Not as well as her, which gave her a little thrill, that she should be better than a man at anything. Especially Joshua. Yes, she said. How else could you do it?
He gave the stacks of collection cups piled up at the end of each row a puzzled frown. I dont know. Jesus, there must be millions of them.
Louise had grown accustomed to his casual swearing now. It had shocked her a little at first, but people from the stars were bound to have slightly different customs. Coming from him it didnt seem profane, just exotic. Perhaps the most surprising thing was the way he could suddenly switch from being himself to using the most formal mannerisms.
Cricklade alone has two hundred groves, she said. Thats why there are so many cuppers. It has to be done entirely in the week before midsummer when the roses are in bloom. Even with every able-bodied person in the county drafted in theres only just enough to get it finished in time. A team like this takes nearly a day to complete a grove.
Joshua leant forwards in the saddle, studying the people labouring away. It all seemed so menial, yet every one of them looked intent, devoted almost. Grant Kavanagh had said that a lot of them worked through half of Duchess-night, they would never have got the work finished otherwise. Im beginning to see why a bottle of Norfolk Tears costs so much. Its not just the rarity value, is it?
No. She flicked the reins, and guided the horse along the end of the rows, heading for the gate in the wall. The foreman touched his wide-brimmed hat as she passed. Louise gave a reflex smile.
He rode beside her after they left the grove. Cricklade Manors protective ring of cedars was just visible a couple of miles away across the wolds. Where now? It was parkland all around, sheep clustering together under the lonely trees for shade. The grass was furry with white flowers. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be blooms of some kindtrees, bushes, ground plants.
I thought Wardley Wood would be nice, you can see what wild Norfolk looks like. Louise pointed at a long stretch of dark-green trees a mile away, following the bottom of a small valley. Genevieve and I often walk there. Its lovely. She dropped her head. As if he would be interested in the glades with their multicoloured flowers and sweet scents.
That sounds good. Id like to get out of this sunlight. I dont know how you can stand it.
I dont notice it, really.
He spurred his horse on, breaking into a canter. Louise rode past him easily, moving effortlessly with her horses rhythm. They galloped across the wolds, scattering the somnolent sheep, Louises laughter trilling through the heavy air. She beat him easily to the edge of the wood, and sat there smiling as he rode up to her, panting heavily.
That was quite good, she said. You could be a decent rider if you had a bit of practice. She swung her leg over the saddle and dropped down.
There are some stables on Tranquillity, he said, dismounting. Thats where I learnt, but Im not there very often.
A big mithorn tree stood just outside the main body of the wood, its coin-sized dark red flowers sprinkling the end of every twig. Louise wrapped the reins round one of its lower branches, and started off into the wood along one of the little animal tracks she knew. Ive heard of Tranquillity. Thats where the Lord of Ruin lives, Ione Saldana. She was on the news last year; shes so beautiful. I wanted to cut my hair short like hers, but Mother said no. Do you know her?
Now thats the trouble when you really do know someone famous; no one ever believes you when you say yes.