goals. But my proposal is serious. Also, the primary mission is one of quite negligible risk."
"In the Darklands? I don't believe it."
"Nonetheless, it is true. Listen to me, and see if you change your mind. The role of our group would merely be to serve as invited guests to a formal ceremony. The Ten Tribes are ready to crown a new emperor. The man who will ascend to the throne, Rasool Ilunga, has decided that his crowning will be an event unprecedented in Darklands history. He plans an elaborate coronation, putting on display the wealth of the Darklands. And to observe those ceremonies, with their jewel-encrusted robes and jeweled and priceless emblems of office, and also to be witness to his imperial greatness, Ilunga has invited representatives from every region; even a Chipponese party has been asked to descend from the Moon to Coronation City and attend the event. But the Ten Tribes have traditionally been highly suspicious of Traders, and Ilunga's condition on our presence is that children or trainees be invited, not qualified Traders. The Kallario group qualifies. The mission has no danger that I am able to identify." There was a substantial pause. "Of course, one could entertain a speculation that might lead to a possible second agenda: the Chipponese are looking for a permanent equatorial launch and landing franchise. The central part of Rasool Ilunga's Darklands empire is ideally located. It is tempting to correlate those facts and explore the implications. But it would be at the Fourth Level of difficulty."
"For Shannon's sake, you are trying to get them killed. You can't let them even look at Fourth Level—we'd never see them again!"
"With this trainee group, there is evidence to suggest otherwise. However, that is not a point to be profitably pursued at this moment. To ease your fears, I promise this: the quartet will not be charged with any second agenda. May we leave the situation thus? We both believe that the remaining scheduled visits to the Azores' simulation facilities are likely to be of limited use to the Kallario group. We will therefore cancel them. Also, the opportunity of the Darklands visit is something that requires further consideration. Let me attend to that, and prepare the necessary briefing documents."
"Don't you think—"
Connery paused. The circuit light had begun to blink, indicating that the terminal would remain open but that minimal computing capabilities would be linked into it. For all practical purposes, Daddy-O was saying good-bye.
A few more moments, and Lyle Connery was left staring out at the bleak Atlantic winter. The whole structure he sat in was shaking and swaying with the force of the wind. He stood up, wondering as he often did after a session with Daddy-O whether they had achieved any worthwhile communication at all.
CHAPTER 5
"Hello. On behalf of Rasool Ilunga, let me welcome you to the Heart of the World, home of the Ten Tribes."
The words were spoken the moment the four passengers stepped out of the Trader aircar. They peered around them. The Mach Six trip from midwinter at the Azores to tropical noon had left them with transit shock. They blinked, shielded their eyes against the glare of the equatorial sun, and squinted at the speaker. The temperature was in the middle nineties. Reflected sunlight flared from a thousand places on the baked ground.
The man standing in front of them was an albino, skeletally thin and frail looking. He was wearing a suit of white silk, white shoes, and a broad coolie hat that extended across his head and shoulders. Blue-tinted glasses covered his eyes. His features were fine-boned, with a thin, chiseled nose. He was extending a cotton-gloved hand as he continued in excellent Trader: "You have come a long way to be here, but I am sure that you will not find it a wasted journey. There are exciting times ahead for you."
Jake stepped forward and took the man's hand in both of his, Darklands fashion. "It is a pleasure to be here. I
"In the Darklands? I don't believe it."
"Nonetheless, it is true. Listen to me, and see if you change your mind. The role of our group would merely be to serve as invited guests to a formal ceremony. The Ten Tribes are ready to crown a new emperor. The man who will ascend to the throne, Rasool Ilunga, has decided that his crowning will be an event unprecedented in Darklands history. He plans an elaborate coronation, putting on display the wealth of the Darklands. And to observe those ceremonies, with their jewel-encrusted robes and jeweled and priceless emblems of office, and also to be witness to his imperial greatness, Ilunga has invited representatives from every region; even a Chipponese party has been asked to descend from the Moon to Coronation City and attend the event. But the Ten Tribes have traditionally been highly suspicious of Traders, and Ilunga's condition on our presence is that children or trainees be invited, not qualified Traders. The Kallario group qualifies. The mission has no danger that I am able to identify." There was a substantial pause. "Of course, one could entertain a speculation that might lead to a possible second agenda: the Chipponese are looking for a permanent equatorial launch and landing franchise. The central part of Rasool Ilunga's Darklands empire is ideally located. It is tempting to correlate those facts and explore the implications. But it would be at the Fourth Level of difficulty."
"For Shannon's sake, you are trying to get them killed. You can't let them even look at Fourth Level—we'd never see them again!"
"With this trainee group, there is evidence to suggest otherwise. However, that is not a point to be profitably pursued at this moment. To ease your fears, I promise this: the quartet will not be charged with any second agenda. May we leave the situation thus? We both believe that the remaining scheduled visits to the Azores' simulation facilities are likely to be of limited use to the Kallario group. We will therefore cancel them. Also, the opportunity of the Darklands visit is something that requires further consideration. Let me attend to that, and prepare the necessary briefing documents."
"Don't you think—"
Connery paused. The circuit light had begun to blink, indicating that the terminal would remain open but that minimal computing capabilities would be linked into it. For all practical purposes, Daddy-O was saying good-bye.
A few more moments, and Lyle Connery was left staring out at the bleak Atlantic winter. The whole structure he sat in was shaking and swaying with the force of the wind. He stood up, wondering as he often did after a session with Daddy-O whether they had achieved any worthwhile communication at all.
CHAPTER 5
"Hello. On behalf of Rasool Ilunga, let me welcome you to the Heart of the World, home of the Ten Tribes."
The words were spoken the moment the four passengers stepped out of the Trader aircar. They peered around them. The Mach Six trip from midwinter at the Azores to tropical noon had left them with transit shock. They blinked, shielded their eyes against the glare of the equatorial sun, and squinted at the speaker. The temperature was in the middle nineties. Reflected sunlight flared from a thousand places on the baked ground.
The man standing in front of them was an albino, skeletally thin and frail looking. He was wearing a suit of white silk, white shoes, and a broad coolie hat that extended across his head and shoulders. Blue-tinted glasses covered his eyes. His features were fine-boned, with a thin, chiseled nose. He was extending a cotton-gloved hand as he continued in excellent Trader: "You have come a long way to be here, but I am sure that you will not find it a wasted journey. There are exciting times ahead for you."
Jake stepped forward and took the man's hand in both of his, Darklands fashion. "It is a pleasure to be here. I
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