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A.R.Yngve
DARC AGES
Book Three
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Chapter 38 (continued)

"Yes, Dohan, I still need your help," Darc told him. The white-haired time-traveler, now clad in a white coat and thin gloves, looked up from his microscope and nodded at the young warrior. "Can you get the Sunray up and flying again?"

Dohan thought of piloting the jetfighter again, and made a spontaneous leap onto a table. Darc wondered quietly how such an impetuous teenager could act so responsibly at other times.

"Yes, I can! One of Mechao's sons has analyzed the Sunray's jet fuel, and do you know what he said? He promised me that they could change the genes of certain small life forms, so that they produce the components of jet fuel for me! In a matter of days, they can grow a vat full of fuel! Pity, that none of them is an aircraft mechanic..."

In spite of mounting technical problems, Darc made Dohan promise that the Sunray would soon be ready for a flight to Castilia and back. Then, in confidence, Darc revealed his complex scheme to him -and Dohan was delighted to hear it.

He felt busy and useful again, and his hopes soared. One day, he would be able to marry Meijji and yet be reconciled with his family. As long as Darc lived, nothing seemed impossible.

Shortly thereafter, Mechao's wife Amada rounded up the village council. She invited the council to her house, plus her many children and relatives as a show of strength. More than sixty villagers gathered in the mansion; Mechao and Darc were politely barred from attending.

Several hours later, Darc sat with Pop Shah at a window facing the sea, trying to create a rendition of an ancient song. Then Shara knocked, and entered through the open doorway.

"Girl's asleep now, but it breaks my heart to leave her in that cold, frightening laboratory."

"Perhaps we could come and play something for her? Have you met Eye-Leg, Pop Shah?"

Pop Shah's hands stiffened and stopped playing; he shook his head.

"Another day, maybe," Darc told Shara, as she sat down in his lap. "Any word from the village council?"

Just as he asked that, one of Mechao's youngest grandchildren rushed in, breathless. The girl bowed her head, and delivered a note.

"It says here, the council voted approval for our trade expedition!" he said, smiling a little. "But it also says... I am to be guarded by two appointed, armed villagers. Our boat awaits us, now, at the camouflaged fishing-boat harbor."

Pop Shah stood to attention, and his gritty voice, low but clear, said in his inimitable manner: "I need to go with you, yay I do, if your electric dream is to come true, that is what I say."

"Electric what?" Shara asked suspiciously. "Darc, what are you up to this time?"

"Wait and see," he replied with a mischievous smile. "I mean, wait and listen. When I come back. Don't worry."

"I won't," she said, smiling. "Plenty for me to do here, in your grand scheme."



The sleek, sea-blue catamaran was slightly larger than those of the popular boat races Darc recalled from his own era.

Its small crew consisted of women; Darc and Pop Shah were the only male passengers aboard. The catamaran left the island by aid of a small electric propeller; the crew waited until they were out in open water, before setting sails. The captain put them on a rapid, southeastern course across the calm, deep sea.

While Darc was rubbing black dye into his white hair and eyebrows, he approached two of the crewmembers. They were sitting on deck, winding up sail tackle, humming a work song.

In the light of dusk, Darc could hardly make out their dark-skinned faces. When the two women looked up at him, they both greeted him with the typical islander laugh that resembled a screech.

"Just look at him!" the short one exclaimed and gestured wildly, flashing a gold tooth as she grinned. "Black hair and green eyes! Nobody's going to be fooled by that!"

Darc brightened up and said: "I know you two. You are the ones who put out the fire, when..."

The shorter woman gave her tall companion an "I-told-you-so" glance, and replied in a more serious tone: "We missed the last opportunity to visit the mainland, so we're going shopping now."

In a way, the two women were also disguised - in rough but colorful dresses. Earrings, necklaces and other accessories were to be added later.

The taller woman said, as if excusing her chubbier friend's behavior: "I'm Lucijja, and she's Faluti. Amada paid us to look after you. Have you seen Dakchaor?"

"No - not even in my own time. What's it like?"

Lucijja smiled at Darc, then at Faluti, and replied: "Shouldn't he rather be asking, what is it not like? Dakchaor, city of the silver spires! The world's biggest open harbor! There's this song - Pop Shah! Play!"

Pop Shah, who sat nearby, started to pluck a basic rhythm on his strings. The women clapped hands rhythmically, and sang a simple tune.

"Bissaw is too humid, Noakchott too dry;
Banju is too crowded, Konaki too small;
Monroia is a beauty, but if you can't afford;
Dakchaor you can thrive in, Dakchaor has it all."

Darc did not know what to expect - another fortified city-state, or just a miserable, overcrowded tropical village? Many things might change in nine centuries. He sat and listened as Lucijja and Faluti kept singing, until the sun sank into the ocean.

"Monroia has the dishes, Noakchott the spice;
Konaki the best women, Banju the best men;
Bissaw has the riches, but if you are too poor;
Dakchaor has the happy, Dakchaor has them all..."

Their journey to Dakchaor took one night, one day, and one night. It proved uneventful, save for some tackle fishing on the way. Avoiding the main streaks of fishermen and traders, Darc's expedition sailed southeast, then north a few miles off the coast, then southeast again and into the port of Dakchaor.



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