the beached vessel and braced herself with a shoulder against the prow. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the boat slid down the beach, only stopping when the stern was moving urgently in the current.
Kin took Leiv’s arm and led him firmly towards it. He was quick on the uptake. Within five minutes the men were on board, the dumbwaiter was humming to itself by the mast, and all eyes were on Silver, hovering out to sea on the end of the cable.
There was an area of dead water where the sea parted round the island before dropping into nothingness. By the time the current tugged feebly at it the boat was flying over the waves.
* * *
Two incidents enlivened the journey. Marco was handed a horn of some sweet substance by a nervous Leiv.
He sniffed it suspiciously and poured some into the ’waiter. ‘It appears to be some kind of glucose drink,’ he said. ‘What do you think, Kin?’
‘Did you try it on the ‘waiter?’
‘It gave a green light. Could it be some form of strengthening potion?’
He drank half the horn, and smacked what passed for lips. Then he laughed vaguely and drank the other half.
Later he programmed the dumbwaiter to duplicate it, and when the men had got over their amazement at the disposable plastic cups they were passed back as fast as they could be filled. Spasmodic singing broke out, and there was an occasional clattering of oars as rowers missed their stroke. Finally Kin, after Leiv’s unspoken plea, switched off the machine.
Later Silver tried her hand at rowing. Sitting amidships and grasping two oars, she followed the stroke easily. One by one the rowers stopped to watch her. The boat didn’t slow until her oars snapped.
Marco found Kin sitting in the skin shelter behind the mast, drinking martinis and thinking.
‘I wish a private word,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ said Kin, patting the rug beside her. ‘How is the head now?’
‘Better. That drink obviously contains dangerous impurities. I don’t think I will try any more for an hour or so.’ He fished in his belt pouch and pulled out a roll of plastic. It opened out into an aerial photograph of the disc.
‘I got the computer to prepare it before we left the ship,’ he said.
‘Why didn’t you show it to me before?’
‘I did not wish to encourage any foolhardy explorations. However, now that we are penetrating the disc … Look at the photo. What is missing?’
Kin took the sheet. ‘A lot,’ she said. ‘You know that. No Valhalla. That’s why Leiv found the waterfall. No Brasil. The Peaceful Ocean is tiny, look, round here on the back of Asia—’
‘Any additions?’
Kin peered at the map. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. Marco used a double-jointed thumb to point to the centre of the disc.
‘The cloud cover makes it a bit indistinct, but that shouldn’t be there. That island in the Arabian Sea. You notice it’s perfectly circular? It is the geographical hub of the disc.’
‘What about it?’
‘Don’t you see? It is an anomaly. We’ll find the disc civilization there if anywhere. These people are barbarians. Intelligent, yes – but space-going?’
He looked at her.
‘Are you afraid this may turn out to be a Company artefact?’ he said carefully. She nodded.
‘There is an old kung story,’ said Marco softly, his voice like the currents in a quicksand, ‘concerning a lord who had a high tower built. Then he called various wise kung together and said, “I will give my finest oyster farm and the famed kelp beds off Tchp-pch to the kung who can determine the height of that tower using nothing but a barometer. Those who fail will be exiled to the dry lands because that’s the way it goes for the not-wise-enough.” So the wise kung tried and, although they could find the height to within a few chetds , this was not considered accurate enough and they were sent to the dry lands.’
‘I like folk tales,’ said Kin, ‘but do you think this is—’
‘Then one day,’ said Marco loudly, ‘the wisest kung, who
Kin took Leiv’s arm and led him firmly towards it. He was quick on the uptake. Within five minutes the men were on board, the dumbwaiter was humming to itself by the mast, and all eyes were on Silver, hovering out to sea on the end of the cable.
There was an area of dead water where the sea parted round the island before dropping into nothingness. By the time the current tugged feebly at it the boat was flying over the waves.
* * *
Two incidents enlivened the journey. Marco was handed a horn of some sweet substance by a nervous Leiv.
He sniffed it suspiciously and poured some into the ’waiter. ‘It appears to be some kind of glucose drink,’ he said. ‘What do you think, Kin?’
‘Did you try it on the ‘waiter?’
‘It gave a green light. Could it be some form of strengthening potion?’
He drank half the horn, and smacked what passed for lips. Then he laughed vaguely and drank the other half.
Later he programmed the dumbwaiter to duplicate it, and when the men had got over their amazement at the disposable plastic cups they were passed back as fast as they could be filled. Spasmodic singing broke out, and there was an occasional clattering of oars as rowers missed their stroke. Finally Kin, after Leiv’s unspoken plea, switched off the machine.
Later Silver tried her hand at rowing. Sitting amidships and grasping two oars, she followed the stroke easily. One by one the rowers stopped to watch her. The boat didn’t slow until her oars snapped.
Marco found Kin sitting in the skin shelter behind the mast, drinking martinis and thinking.
‘I wish a private word,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ said Kin, patting the rug beside her. ‘How is the head now?’
‘Better. That drink obviously contains dangerous impurities. I don’t think I will try any more for an hour or so.’ He fished in his belt pouch and pulled out a roll of plastic. It opened out into an aerial photograph of the disc.
‘I got the computer to prepare it before we left the ship,’ he said.
‘Why didn’t you show it to me before?’
‘I did not wish to encourage any foolhardy explorations. However, now that we are penetrating the disc … Look at the photo. What is missing?’
Kin took the sheet. ‘A lot,’ she said. ‘You know that. No Valhalla. That’s why Leiv found the waterfall. No Brasil. The Peaceful Ocean is tiny, look, round here on the back of Asia—’
‘Any additions?’
Kin peered at the map. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. Marco used a double-jointed thumb to point to the centre of the disc.
‘The cloud cover makes it a bit indistinct, but that shouldn’t be there. That island in the Arabian Sea. You notice it’s perfectly circular? It is the geographical hub of the disc.’
‘What about it?’
‘Don’t you see? It is an anomaly. We’ll find the disc civilization there if anywhere. These people are barbarians. Intelligent, yes – but space-going?’
He looked at her.
‘Are you afraid this may turn out to be a Company artefact?’ he said carefully. She nodded.
‘There is an old kung story,’ said Marco softly, his voice like the currents in a quicksand, ‘concerning a lord who had a high tower built. Then he called various wise kung together and said, “I will give my finest oyster farm and the famed kelp beds off Tchp-pch to the kung who can determine the height of that tower using nothing but a barometer. Those who fail will be exiled to the dry lands because that’s the way it goes for the not-wise-enough.” So the wise kung tried and, although they could find the height to within a few chetds , this was not considered accurate enough and they were sent to the dry lands.’
‘I like folk tales,’ said Kin, ‘but do you think this is—’
‘Then one day,’ said Marco loudly, ‘the wisest kung, who
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