Free Orion Shall Rise by Poul Anderson

jutting nose, long chin, pale-blue eyes. Alcohol and tobacco had hoarsened what was once a melodious voice. Like Iern, he was clean-shaven, and he kept his receding sandy hair cut more short. However, his blouse, trousers, and shoes were in worse shape than the Clansman’s rough but sturdy outfit.
    ‘May I ask what brings you to us?’ he inquired.
    ‘Oh, I was visiting my mother and stepfather in Carnac. His oldest son has lately become skipper of a small freight schooner, among several that the father owns. He set off on a trip down the Gulf to Port Bordeu, stopping first at Kemper to get his cargo. I thought I’d ride that far. I used to carouse in Kemper, on furloughs while a Cadet, often in this very den, but I hadn’t seen the town foryears. It hasn’t changed much, has it? Except for our charming servitrice, of course.’
    Plik grimaced. ‘No, places like this don’t change easily. They’re too haunted.’
    Surprised, Iern considered the remark for a few seconds. Haunted? Why, Kemper was the largest community in Brezh, its chief seaport, capital of Ar-Mor. … Wait. More than history and prehistory brooded above its narrow streets. A cathedral raised in the Middle Ages to honor St. Corentin, who was among the Bretons when they arrived from the province of Britannia, which Rome had let go; today its crumbling majesty knew the rites of three separate faiths. … A museum, rebuilt after centuries had gnawed away the former episcopal palace that had been its predecessor, housing relics more ancient than Breton or Roman or Gaul, megaliths like those which stood in arrays outside Carnac.…
    Iern guessed Plik meant ghosts more newly made, though amply old by now. Kemper became consequential because it was spared the destruction that fell on the great cities of Brezh during the Judgment, and because engineers afterward did not find it impossible to broaden and deepen the upper Odet River enough, and dig out a harbor basin big enough, for such ships as their world was able to launch. If he had a sense of history, as he appeared to do, then wherever he looked as he wandered about, Plik perforce remembered billionfold deaths and high hopes crushed.
    ‘Why did you come, then?’ Iern blurted. ‘Why do you stay?’ He checked himself and prepared to apologize. Most groundlings were flattered, overjoyed, when a Clansperson asked about them, and ready to confide at embarrassing length. This man wasn’t typical, not of anything Iern had met.
    Sesi cut him off. She had returned with the wine and Plik’s change, and poised watchful. ‘Must you talk Angley?’ she complained. ‘I mean, it’s sort of dull for me at this time of day. Later it’s more fun, but then they keep me busy, the fellows do.’
    Iern suspected some of them kept her busy with more than fetching and carrying.
    ‘Vineleaf,’ said Plik in Francey, ‘you should know that we have with us –’
    Tern,’ the pilot interrupted, ‘Plain “Iern” will do.’ He didn’t want her overexcited.
    ‘Ah, well.’ Plik waved expansively. ‘Why don’t you join us,Vineleaf? Tap yourself a glass, on me.’
    ‘Oh, I really shouldn’t – Well, thanks. A girl does get tired and thirsty. Iern, are you ready for another?’
    The Clansman drained his own goblet. ‘I suppose. But please let me treat. You too, Plik. Aren’t poets traditionally paid in wine?’
    ‘Ah, you know more than I realized.’ The other man’s large Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped what he had. ‘Yes, it’s been said down the ages that the Spirit shuns wealth. I suspect this may have been promulgated by lords who wanted to get their entertainment cheap, but no matter. I at least am in no peril of riches.’ He spoke with an exaggerated precision that suggested he was drunk.
    He confirmed that in Iern’s mind when he leaned back, elbow on table, shank over knee, and stared after Sesi while words tumbled out of him:
    ‘You wondered what I’m doing in exile. Well, I’ve always been