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A.R.Yngve DARC AGES Book Three _________________________ |
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Chapter 2
Of the many daily laser transmissions that zipped between the city lords of North Castilia, very few ever reached the ears of commoners -- except as half-baked rumors. And yet one message from Lord Fache went to Lord Damon and then, as if by magic, slipped through his hands into the common mouth. Its crucial part read: "The noble Lord Fache's honored wife reported a vision, where Darc spoke to her. His words were: 'Fear not. The King can be killed, but he never dies.' Then Darc urged the good Sir Dohan Damon forth, and lo! he was dressed in the robes of a great ruler. Thus ended her vision." The quote from the dream was, of course, the words uttered by Darc to the soldiers during the battle of Damon City. This was generally regarded as a good omen in these dark times... "What is a 'ra-dio?'" Mechao demanded to know. Darc's inquiry about "radio equipment" bewildered Mechao and his assistant sons. At first, they confused the concept of "radio waves" with particle counters and radiation. Darc was forced to painstakingly draw diagrams of electronic circuits, electromagnetic waves, and explain the function of radio, before Mechao began to understand. This took a whole day. Only then, Darc could convey to him his new plan to spread the news of Plague Virus A vaccine to the world. Mechao judged the plan as doomed, insane -- and brilliant. But their quest for a remedy against Virus B was not yet won... "My wife will deal with the village council, so that you receive its permission to follow our next trade expedition to the mainland," Mechao told him as they left the laboratory for supper. "You cannot leave the islands without their consent, in any case. In a few weeks, perhaps, we..." The little old man stopped, when a passing servant whispered a message in his ear. Mechao chuckled, and nodded. "Darc, someone from the village wishes to see you. Perhaps not a man of great importance, but judging by what you've told us, you will want to meet him. I should say no more. Do go to the entrance hall." Slightly miffed at Mechao's playful secrecy, Darc went to see the visitor. The old man he found waiting there, with a small following of villagers, was a musician. It was evident from the guitar that hung from his back, and his colorful attire. Also, the man wore a pair of square, smoke-colored eyeglasses. He was dark-skinned, wrinkled with years of sun, and on every finger of his thick hands he wore rings. "Greetings," Darc said and moved to shake hands. The man stood up from his seat, and bowed his head. His dark glasses made it hard for Darc to figure out his mood. "You asked to see me?" Darc had half suspected the man was mute, but he talked -- and his voice was like gravel, words spoken in the rhythm of recital: "Greetings, Darc, this meeting makes me glad... Far the word travels, and I hear of a man, risen from the dead. Come from a Golden Age, when music ruled the world. And I hear, word of a song from long ago, yes I do, that my forefathers passed on to this day. Yay, this is a great day..." The musician picked up his guitar, an instrument with metal strings, and in his right hand glistened a little silver plectrum. Darc grinned. Others who kept the music of ancient times alive! And on this isolated archipelago, it was no wonder... "My name is known across these islands, my clan builds instruments," the man went on in gravel-voiced sing-song, plucking improvised, twanging chords on his steel guitar. "When they shout 'Pop Shah is coming!' they know joy is near... I was away from here for many months, I was... then the word reached my old sorry ears the Singing King had returned... I could not believe it, so I had to come and see... and now the legend's coming true, I know, I do, yay... the divine music will be released again." Though this po-faced old troubadour was a complete stranger, Darc still felt as if a long-lost friend had returned. Perhaps Pop Shah had that effect on everyone he met. "Come, honorable Pop Shah... let us drink, talk and sing. We have much work to do. Tell me, do you manufacture electrical instruments also?" Days and weeks went by; the monsoon period approached the tropical islands of Kap Verita. The two biochemists were now compiling a detailed plan for the treatment of Eye-Leg. Parallel to that scheme, Mechao's sons were examining the DNA samples from the Lepers -- a tedious, repetitive task, but of crucial importantance. To pinpoint the exact genetic errors that caused the Plague required little genius, but plenty of time -- for there were thousands upon thousands of slots in a genetic sequence where this virus might be hiding. Mechao estimated the time needed to locate Virus B at anything between a month and a lifetime. Though rich and powerful, he owned no robots that could do this work. Once Eye-Leg could be cured from both viruses and her bodily defects, the much slower and harder process of global change might begin for Lepers and city-dwellers. And a new music could now be heard in the evenings, Darc and Pop Shah holding open-air concerts that brought new joy to the island, and a sense of apprehension of things to come... |
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