“Given that it does, friend September, and I intend no disrespect, but—what of this?” Hunnar waited to be convinced of he knew not what.
“I was on a world once,” the giant said reminiscently, “similar to this one. Only the oceans were covered with grass—sort of an anemic pika-pina, Hunnar, like they say grows inland here—and there were sailin’ ships akin to the Slanderscree. They sailed easy over those green oceans, on wheels instead of skates.”
“What,” inquired Hunnar blankly, “is a wheel?”
Ethan sat stunned. The Tran had achieved such a high level of civilization that he’d taken an invention as basic as the wheel for granted. Now that he thought back on it, nowhere in Sofold could he recall seeing a wheeled vehicle; not a cart, not a wagon, nothing. Everything traveled on chiv, or skates. Dry land transport was by means of sledges, used as little as possible. And they had no need for wheels, after all, in a land where icepaths were easily constructed and frozen seas surrounded every city-state.
He finally found an example to serve as illustration. “Like the millstones, Hunnar, you use for making meal from dried pika-pina and juice from its pulp. Like the,” and he had to use the Tran term for steering control to refer to the Slanderscree’s own great ship’s wheel. “You place them apart like so, with a supporting beam between like those that connect our ship’s skates and they carry you smoothly across unfrozen lands.”
“This is surely an awkward way of traveling,” Hunnar admitted, brows contorting in confusion, “yet if you say the thing works, it must be so.”
“It’s a proven method,” replied Ethan without smiling. At least Hunnar and the other Tran had the idea now.
“We will need,” Williams began, already drawing designs and measuring stresses in his head, “additional axles to place beneath the ship. While the five duralloy skates now positioned beneath us are sufficient to support the icerigger’s mass, I have less confidence in stone or wooden wheels, and that is the best the Moulokinese could construct. They have good quality timber. Perhaps they can be metal-reinforced, if the work of these Saia is as fine as they claim.”
“Why not just make metal wheels?” wondered one ship’s mate.
“Assuming these Saia are indeed not gods, they would do extraordinarily well to manufacture one wheel of such size in only four days,” Ta-hoding pointed out gruffly. Gentle of demeanor when speaking to his superiors or the three humans, the icerig-ger’s captain could be harsh whenever he thought one of his own crew guilty of stupidity.
“With stone or wooden wheels then,” the teacher continued, calculating all the while, “we’d need additional axles for additional wheels.”
“Plenty of trees big enough,” September agreed. “They’ll be a lot easier to cut and attach than takin’ the ship apart would be. Of course,” and his excitement grew tempered by thoughtfulness, “this is all assumin’ the Moulokinese are willing to make ’em for us. I expect they will. I’m sure most of ’em would prefer to work a little harder rather than fight. A saw usually sheds less blood than a spear.”
“You speak a truth which I suspect extends beyond my own world, friend September.” Hunnar regarded the giant somberly. “There are those who do not share your opinion and mine of fighting.” He looked around the table. “There is also the question of obtaining permission from these Saia, whatever they may be, to travel through their lands. Given all this, I will defer a personal desire to shed Poyo blood.”
K’ferr Shri-Vehm also had to be convinced. It took considerable persuasion by minister Mirmib to talk her out of opting for the bloodthirsty path. That accomplished, orders were issued for an orgy of work to commence.
The industrious Moulokinese took the enormous assignment as a challenge to their skills. When the first evening fell, lights were brought out to permit the work to continue. The central shipyard reeked of old oil. From a distance, it looked as if the Slanderscree rested in a pool of fire.
Huge trees, cut and stored for use as masts on other rafts, were already available to serve as subsidiary axles. Metal bolts made by the Saia were brought out and used to help pika-pina cable secure axle to ship. Four new axles were emplaced between the fore and aft pairs of duralloy runners beneath the motionless icerigger.
Hours passed, became days. The metal-sheathed and reinforced wheels were bolted onto the four new axles. Then the runners were removed, first the pair fore and then the two aft. Wheels slightly larger than the eight already attached were placed on the runner shafts. Finally, the fifth runner, used for steering, was replaced by a steering wheel.
As expected, a brief experiment revealed that the resultant hybrid was as maneuverable on ice as a greased two-year-old. There was no way it could make any distance upcanyon against the steady, powerful winds that blew down off the plateau. The wheels would simply spin in place as the icerigger was shoved into the first cliff behind it.
Seven of the largest rafts in the harbor—and the Moulokinese built respectably big ones—were detailed to tow the helpless Slanderscree upcanyon, to the end of the ice. To the land of the Golden Saia. From there it could begin its slow journey inland.
Mirmib, however, could not give assurance to Ethan and the others of safe passage through the thermal regions. A representative hastily dispatched to acquire such assurances had returned, typically dehydrated and exhausted, to report that the Saia chose not to comment on the question. They had not given guarantee of safe conduct, nor had they denied it. Their sole response had been an indifferent silence.
In the absence of denial, it was decided to proceed.
“They have strange powers and commune regularly with the spirits of the interior,” a solemn Mirmib informed the readying travelers. “You would do well to treat cautiously with them, and to avoid conflict at all costs. In addition, they might offer much more information on the true conditions you can expect inland, though they abhor it more than we do.”
It was night as Mirmib addressed them. They were standing on the long dock paralleling the almost-finished, almost converted icerigger. Ethan and Hunnar were alone among a rushing current of preoccupied craftsmen.
Winches were carefully loading the last of the five removed duralloy runners aboard the ship. Hopefully, they would find another sloping canyon far away. Ethan found himself shivering as the minus sixty temperature pressed at his survival suit’s adjustive potentials. On locating another such canyon they would once more replace the duralloy runners, remove the wheels, and set off for a new location, perhaps distant Yealleat. As Ta-hoding had pointed out, the stars were a Tran icemaster’s principal guide to navigation, and the stars remained constant over land as well as ice.
They were loading final stores the next morning when a small raft came racing into the harbor, heeling dangerously to port as its crew hiked to maximum for top speed. She disgorged a single officer, who hauled himself up a boarding ladder with impressive speed despite the blood filtering through the fur over his left eye. The four sailors sprawled exhaustedly on the deck of the little raft looked equally battered.
“The Poyos have not waited,” the officer explained to the rapidly growing group of listeners clustering around him. “This is the fourth day and they attacked two hoid ago, no doubt hoping to catch us. offguard and by surprise.” The bleeding soldier permitted himself a vicious smile. “They did not, though they are stronger than we thought.” He recognized Hunnar among the assembled Tran.
“It would be well for all if you were on your way as soon as possible.” He took in the seven jostling tow-rafts, the cables stretching taut between them and the icerigger. “I must return to my post. Our warmth is with our new brothers. Go with the wind.” He was over the side before anyone had a chance to ask questions.