Not long before noon the land began to rise. At the horizon, dead east of them, hung a dark mass that at first Loy thought clouds. In a few miles, however, she could just discern that the mass made a sharp edge against the clear sky. She caught Ammadin’s attention and pointed.
‘The hills,’ Loy said. ‘Chof country.’
Ammadin nodded, staring at the distant hills. ‘That’s where Sibyl must live. You don’t find caves in flat country.’
‘That’s true. Oh God! they’re so far away!’
Ammadin laughed, but in a friendly sort of way. ‘Another thing Water Woman told me? We need to be careful about yap-packs.’
‘What are those?’
‘Some kind of reptile. They’re not very big, but they hunt in packs. They’re noisy, so we should be able to hear them coming. She says that they’re pretty cowardly. When we camp, we should gather throwing stones.’
‘Oh great, just what we need! Hungry wildlife! It’s a good thing I brought the family legacy. I’d better wear the power pack from now on to keep it charged.’
‘The family legacy?’
Loy had to do some fast thinking. ‘Death spirits,’ she said. ‘They throw a particular kind of fire on command. They’re powerful, but they need a lot of feeding.’
‘I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘Well, they’re very very rare. I’ll show you when we camp. But I inherited it from my mother, who got it from hers, and so on, all the way back to the Chof Wars. The Loremasters Guild issued them, because of course everyone was terrified, thinking the Chof were out to kill us all. That’s why I call it the family legacy.’
‘I see. I’ll tell Water Woman we’ve got a weapon, then, when I talk to her next.’
‘How long before we meet up with her?’
‘I don’t know. She had to come from the Rift by some roundabout way.’
A few miles on, a white pillar stood beside the remains of the road. It gleamed, so slick and bright that it had to be flexstone, rising tall out of the grass and debris that had collected around its base. Loy dismounted and led the black over; she let him crop the high grass while she searched for inscriptions. Beneath the galactic spiral she found writing in Old Vranz.
‘I need to get out my notebooks,’ Loy said. ‘I want to copy this down.’
‘Well, let’s camp here,’ Ammadin said. ‘The horses are going to need some rest time, and it looks like a good spot.’
Loy glanced around and saw that they stood at the edge of a grassy field, thick with purple grass. A stand of Midas trees marked a stream running at the far side.
‘Let me help set up the camp,’ Loy said. ‘I can scrounge dead wood and dig our latrine.’
‘I won’t say no.’ Ammadin grinned at her. ‘You must be feeling better.’
The stream turned out to be broad enough to be called a shallow river. Once they had a camp laid out near the trees, and the horses were tethered and grazing, Loy took a notebook and a pencil out of her saddlebags and hurried back to the pillar. She had brought a good many pounds of bound rushi notebooks and pencils with her to gather the data she’d need for her reports.
There were two separate inscriptions on the pillar. Words engraved with artistic precision declared that it marked the border between Dordan and N’Dosha cantons. Words hacked out with some inappropriate tool memorialized all those who had died in the Chof Wars. ‘Too many to list in their hundreds,’ the inscription finished, ‘slaughtered defending their farms and their children.’ Loy turned cold. What was she doing, riding off to Chof country with only a spirit rider, a woman she hardly knew, for company?
The spell of a thousand ears, she thought. But it’s more than the tech that’s bringing you. The truth. An abstract thing to many, maybe, but it had drawn her east more strongly than any Settler gadgets could have. Water Woman would know Chof lore about the wars, she would see them as her species saw them, and she might be willing to share that knowledge. Sibyl’s cave might hold other truths about the Settlers as well.
Ammadin strolled over to join her. ‘What’s this white stuff made of? Do you know?’
‘In a very general way. It’s a ceramic – baked like pottery, but it’s not made out of clay, obviously, and it’s much stronger. You can’t drive nails through it, so the Settlers must have had some way of glueing it together. They left big sheets of it all over the Cantons, I guess where they were planning on building more things, but we don’t know why they never finished them.’
‘I’m beginning to understand why you study the Settlers. They left you all kinds of puzzles.’
‘Yes, they did. May they rot in hell for it, too.’
Not long after, the observation grid rose over the horizon. Loy had brought crystals with her, but not her multi-unit, an irreplaceable piece of equipment. While Ammadin scanned for Water Woman, Loy carried her own saddlebags to the other side of the campsite. She had a crystal for sending and receiving sound that would soon be useless; she’d brought it to keep in touch with Master Zhoc, who was now at the very limit of its range. Unlike Ammadin, she lacked the power to hear without a crystal, and talking was an awkward process, requiring her to constantly switch modes between receive and send.
When she managed to connect with Zhoc, she could barely hear him. Her end of the conversation seemed to consist mostly of ‘what what what?’ Finally they agreed to break the link and try again at the sunset segment of the grid. Thinking about the grid made her frustration double. Like Yarl, she was aware of the paradox that short distances between surface units quite simply should not have mattered. Goddamn the Settlers! she thought. They had trusted their descendants about as much as a sane person would trust a longtooth saur.
After she gave up on the conversation, Loy retrieved the rifle stowed in the horse packs. It was an unprepossessing object, at first glance no more than a squat cylinder of silver metal with a handle near the base and a pop-up sighting lens near the tip. The cylinder telescoped out to form a long, frail-appearing rod. A spiral of black tubing attached it to a cubical power pack. Like all Settler technology, it had been engineered to function with voice commands in Tekspeak. When Loy said ‘charge pack’, a glowing red strip appeared on one face of the cube. It would stop pulsing when fully charged, a long process, since the pack had been designed as an emergency backup and nothing more. The Settlers had had some other way of supplying energy to these weapons, but they had carefully destroyed all traces of that knowledge to protect the Chof. Probably they’d thought they’d destroyed all the weapons as well. In a few minutes Ammadin joined her, hunkering down in the grass. She looked at the rifle with narrowed eyes.
‘Death spirits?’ Ammadin’s voice dripped scepticism. ‘It looks like some kind of fancy tool to me.’
‘Well, you’re right, of course,’ Loy said hurriedly. ‘The spirits only supply the power.’
‘Oh.’ Ammadin looked unconvinced, but she let the matter drop. ‘I spoke with Water Woman again. We should get to the white cliff tomorrow well before sunset. She and her servants should arrive the next day.’
‘Excellent! I’m really looking forward to meeting her.’
‘Will you be able to hear her?’
‘Yes. That’s one of the spirit powers I do have, hearing beyond the normal register. It’s one reason I chose Settler history for my field – I can interview Chof.’
Ammadin sat down cross-legged with a nod at the pack. ‘Those spirits are the hungry kind, I’d say.’
‘You bet, very hungry.’ Loy took off her riding hat and wiped the sweat from her forehead on her filthy sleeve. ‘What about those yap-pack things? Did Water Woman have anything more to say about them?’
‘Only to keep the horses tethered in near us at night.’
‘That sounds ominous.’
‘Yes, it does. We should sleep this afternoon, because we might be up all night. I’m glad you’ve got a weapon.’ Ammadin smiled, then looked away. ‘I asked Water Woman if Sibyl could find Zayn for me.’
‘Well, I’m glad. You seemed worried about him.’
‘The quest he’s on could kill him, yes.’
‘You must be worried.’
Ammadin nodded. Loy waited. In the past few days, she’d learned that Ammadin never chatted or, for that matter, talked much at all about anything that she considered unimportant in the present moment. Eventually, though, she stopped contemplating the distant hills.
‘I was wondering if you could tell me something about the Inborn,’ Ammadin said. ‘I know about the spirit powers, of course, but Zayn’s a Recaller. A real Recaller, I mean, not a player on the stage. Like in the old days.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. It’s made his life very painful. The Kazraks call that kind of mind a demon talent.’
‘Yes, they would.’ Loy could feel her own mind racing. ‘Do you know, I mean do you mind telling me, just how extensive his talents are?’
‘Very, from what he’s told me and what I’ve seen him do. He read a Vransic dictionary once through and knew every word in it. He can look at a picture and then draw it months later. When you ask him to remember something he read in a book, you can tell he’s seeing the pages in his mind and reading the information off.’
‘That’s staggering. I didn’t know it was still possible. I mean, some of the old talents have survived, but mostly among your people, because you keep marrying each other rather than marrying out of the Tribes.’
‘Ah. They are inherited then, just like that play said. You told me some Cantonneurs went to live with the Kazraks, right? They must have brought the talents with them.’
‘That’s the most likely explanation, yes.’
‘What other spirit powers do you have?’
‘I can magnify the images in crystals. But that’s all, just a fragment of what a spirit rider can do.’
Ammadin was watching her with the barest trace of a smile. Loy had the unpleasant feeling that Ammadin knew she was talking around the truth. Merde! Loy thought. I’ll bet she can smell the difference.
‘Well,’ Ammadin said at last. ‘Zayn’s told me that there are a number of Kazraks who have some of what we’d call spirit powers. Or at least, I’d call them that.’
Her emphasis on the ‘I’ was unmistakable. Loy arranged a sickly smile and kept quiet. Ammadin stood up, stretching.
‘I’m going to go bathe in the stream,’ Ammadin said.
‘When I’m done feeding these spirits, I will too. I want to wash out my clothes. They should dry fast enough in this sun.’
‘Good idea. And then we should get some sleep.’
‘Yes.’ Loy paused for a long sigh. ‘We should. I should have known better, but I forgot all about predators. Uh, there aren’t any longtooths or slashers in this part of the world, are there?’
‘Water Woman said no. Don’t worry, I asked her.’
Warkannan may have been frustrated by how slowly they were travelling, but Zayn hovered on the edge of fury. Ammi was on her own in the ruins of N’Dosha, Soutan was chasing after her, while during the past few days, he’d been forced to stand around and listen while Jezro Khan talked with one official or farmer after another. Jezro must have noticed his black mood, because the khan led them straight to Shairb without a single stop.
They reached it by mid-morning, an ugly little town, about three hundred dirty-pink buildings with slanted grey roofs. Its circular streets centred upon the militia armoury and huddled inside thorn-vine walls. The armoury, made of brilliant white flexstone, also housed the mayor’s office and served as a station for the town’s two zhundars as well – a convenience in vain, since none of them had seen Soutan and Arkazo. The mayor, a stout man with thinning grey hair, apologized repeatedly to the important Jezro Khan. Since the mayor knew only Vranz, Zayn acted as Warkannan’s translator.
The mayor finished his apologies at last. ‘Allow me to show you around my humble town,’ he said. ‘It would be an honour, Jezro Khan.’
‘We should get on the road now,’ Warkannan muttered in Kazraki.
Zayn agreed, but Jezro wavered.
‘Besides,’ the mayor continued. ‘It’s possible that one of the citizens did see something or hear about these fellows. We held a farmers’ market yesterday.’
‘All right,’ Jezro said. ‘Let’s have the tour.’
The mayor smiled in honest delight. ‘Let me just get my hat,’ he said. ‘Won’t take a minute.’ He rushed into an inner office before Warkannan could argue further. They heard him speak to someone; then he popped out again before the minute was up, hat in hand.
The town itself continued as dull as it looked. Outside the walls, about a quarter of a mile to the east, stood a pair of long, rambling buildings with oddly tall doorways, a permanent market for trading with the ChaMeech. The mayor himself owned a stall there, he told them, and he made a nice profit, too, trading cloth and finished leather goods for the carcasses of game animals, gold panned from the streams in the hills, little figurines and beads made from obsidian, or even, on rare occasions, items of the old technology.
‘They won’t say where they get them,’ the mayor said. ‘Can’t blame them, I guess. They don’t want us just going out and digging the stuff up ourselves.’
‘There can’t be too many objects left anyway,’ Jezro said. ‘I don’t suppose the farmers out there ever had much.’
In the hot, muggy morning everyone was sweating by the time that they headed back to the armoury, where a zhundar waited with their horses. On the way, Zayn noticed another white sphere such as he’d seen when he first crossed into Burgunee. The town had erected a fence, woven of pink bamboid and vines, to set it off from the town plaza.
‘Children kept sitting on it,’ the mayor said. ‘I don’t have the slightest idea what it is, but it’s old, and it could be dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ Jezro said. ‘Has anyone ever dug one up?’
‘No.’ The mayor looked startled. ‘Why? You never know what could happen to you if you fool around with this old stuff. It could blow up in your face.’
‘Has that ever actually happened?’
‘Well, not that I know of, but it could. You can’t be too careful.’
‘Actually you can,’ Jezro muttered this in Kazraki, then returned to Vranz. ‘Well, maybe so. Thank you so much for showing us around. We’ve got to get on the road.’
‘You’re going home, eh?’
‘Eventually. We wanted to take a look at the old N’Dosha road.’
The mayor smiled as broadly as if he’d been given a compliment. ‘Just about half a mile west of here you’ll see a feeder road south. Follow that, it’s not far.’ With a cheery wave, he turned and hurried back inside his office – oddly fast, Zayn thought, for someone who had just insisted on wasting their time.
Just outside of town they found the narrow dirt road. Marked by a wooden signpost, it ran straight south between two fenced fields of gold wheatian.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ Jezro said. ‘The N’dosha road isn’t far, just a couple of miles according to Hassan’s map. Want to take a look?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Zayn said.
‘No,’ Warkannan said. ‘We’re too close to ChaMeech country. Yes, I’m worried about my nephew, but –’
‘The khanate comes first,’ Jezro said. ‘I know, I know. But if we pick up Soutan’s trail, and if his tracks head east out into the great and perilous unknown, then we’ll turn back.’
‘All right,’ Warkannan said. ‘That sounds reasonable.’
Right around noon they reached the N’Dosha road, a wide strip of crumbling grey edged with the usual hard dirt, heading east through abandoned farmland. Here and there a decaying house broke the long flat view of bluish-purple grass and weeds that stretched to the jagged horizon of the hills. Only a stand of Midas trees, clinging to a riverbank, disrupted the flatness of the landscape, and only the trees moved, rustling in the warm wind.
‘God in heaven!’ Warkannan said. ‘It’s desolate out h
ere. You’d think we were a hundred miles from Shairb, not five.’
‘Yes,’ Jezro said. ‘I’ve been told that this farmland was all as prosperous as Kazrajistan once. Long time ago now.’
Zayn, however, had no time to waste on either the view or ancient history. He dismounted, crouched down on the dirt road, and found a muddle of hoofprints. He walked on, crouching often, until he could break them down into two sets, the one overlying the other, and all of them headed east. As far as he could tell, none came back west.
‘The older set was made by three horses, which says to me Ammadin, a pack horse, and another rider,’ Zayn said. ‘We had our horses re-shod in Leen, and two of these horses have left hoofprints that don’t show much wear. The third horse has old shoes. The Loremasters Guild must have sent someone with her, maybe Mada Millou. That third horse is carrying a light burden, and Loy’s short and thin. The second set – four horses left those, two carrying heavier loads than the others.’
‘Soutan, Arkazo, and the two pack horses?’ Jezro said.
‘Most likely, sir.’ Zayn stood up. ‘There’s old horseshit in the road, too. Judging from how dry it is, Soutan must have a good three days’ lead on us. We spent a lot of time socializing.’
‘Yes. Sorry.’ Jezro smiled, utterly unrepentant. ‘It’ll pay off in the end. Soutan can’t stay in ChaMeech territory forever. When he comes back, everyone will be looking for him, especially the zhundars.’
‘That’s true.’ Warkannan was staring at the thin line of distant hills as if he were memorizing the view.
Zayn took the reins of his gelding and mounted again, guiding the horse around to face Warkannan and Jezro. ‘Idres? My turn to ask you what’s wrong.’
‘Just thinking about my nephew, of course. He’s out there somewhere with a renegade and a criminal. How in hell did Soutan manage to get his confidence? That’s what really hurts. Kaz respects the little bastard.’
‘Soutan can be oddly persuasive,’ Jezro said. ‘Don’t blame the boy too much. Look at me. I believed his sheepshit story, didn’t I?’
Warkannan nodded. With a sigh he turned his head away from the eastward view. ‘We should head back.’
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