“It’s so ugly. Where are we going to put it? Throw it away,” his wife had yelled. “Unless you can get enough for it to buy tomorrow’s meal!”
Now she would regret her angry words! The gem and the map were his security, his opportunity. Maybe his grandfather had understood the shame he had caused, and this was his way of atonement.
After a sure bet went bad, he had been left with barely enough coin to buy food, and the Faythans more than keen for payment. But then, by the greatest of luck, his grandfather had died. When he found the gem, his first thought had been to sell it then and there. It was only when he’d looked more closely at the paper the globe was wrapped in and realized what it was that he’d seen the opportunity. Although a part of him had enjoyed the fantasy of his wife sold off and enslaved, under the circumstances, the find had seemed like Breath’s design. His very last coin had gone into the Faythans’ coffers, and the promise of more when he returned had been enough to keep them at bay.
He closed his eyes and ran his hand over the paper again, reading the impression of the snowball planet sung into it. He smiled when he remembered the moment he’d recognized this very same planet on the Explorers’ Guild’s list. Even now the turn of good fortune amazed him!
With a little prompting and a few hidden strings, he had ensured this planet for the Uri’madu. And, as if it was a sign, there had been a Trianogi on the list of potential new diviners. The ancient scryer, Ulisharu of Trianog, had been first to see the planet, and having another Trianog apply for a place on the team seemed like El’s blessing on his venture. It was all falling into place.
Now all he had to do was to be on the beach when the creatures described on the map emerged from the sea. His grandfather had found a dead one and discovered the gem-like quality of its eye. Now, it was Duvät’s turn. This was no time to be squeamish: he would kill the creatures and take their ornaments for himself.
Such rare and beautiful gems would be greatly sought after. There would be plenty of coin to pay out his gambling debts. He imagined the surprise on the Faythans’ faces when he paid them all in full. With his accounts paid, his wife would look at him with admiration again or, at the very least, a lack of loathing. He would purchase a fine manor in Sadir, or even Al Bayut, where he could see the Imperial Palace. Because of his forethought and planning, they would want for nothing and he would never have to exile himself on a frozen, Breath-forsaken planet again!
Huldar was the only concern. The plan involved unnecessary killing, as the ecologist would see it, though the deaths were certainly necessary for him! His insistence on an early move to the east had caused a great fuss, as planned. Everyone was distracted and would be for some time. Duvät nodded – he would make sure of it!
In due course, the creatures would emerge from their watery home, and Duvät Gok of Tiamät would be there to greet them. Briefly, he wondered how big they were, but that moment passed. There had been no other large animals found on the planet so far, so why would the sea-creatures be any different?
He looked at the map again, the crude drawings and rough notes. Eye of Bel Nishani was written near a pale circular blob – no doubt the name was some gibberish in the language of navigators, but to his mind, the sound had the ring and tinkle of coin about it.
His gaze moved to the Djan’rū symbol. His grandfather had left markers leading from there to the inner sea, or so the map said, but although Duvät had searched, the charms had long since faded. However, since Huldar had obligingly made new portals all around the shores of the inner sea, this no longer mattered. The place he had to find was clearly marked, and one thing he’d become good at over the millennia was reading maps.
Following in his grandfather’s footsteps? He sniggered at the thought. His grandfather had been an arrogant boor, Enna to the core. No, this was his time. His new life had begun, his own path to riches – and even better, no one else knew it … yet.
EASTERN CONTINENT
Huldar stumbled in from the shrieking wind and tossed a bag of coal toward the center of the marquee. Frost clung to his eyebrows. He should have covered his face.
“Get the fire lit! Quickly, Tam!”
Tam and Arko grabbed the bag. Black lumps of fuel spilled onto the rug. Huldar pulled on a fur-lined balaclava and turned for the exit again. Outside, billowing tents huddled around the marquee as if looking for warmth. Dark leathers faded into dull white, swallowed by the blizzard. The wind was a malevolent force, whining among the guy-ropes as if it resented their presence.
Huldar saw a loose rope on Lind’s tent and ran to sing it tight before the flapping leather could fatigue and tear.
Lind emerged from the tent door, her face framed by the thick fleece of her hood.
Thank you, she smiled. My hero!
“It shouldn’t have come loose!” Huldar yelled. “Be more careful!”
Lind’s arms hugged her chest, keeping her heavy coat in place, but the collar was loose. She seemed to have little on beneath it.
I’m sorry, she said, I thought I had everything in place.
The smell of smoke eddied faintly with the dull, wet scent of snow. Despite the appalling cold, she loosened her arms and opened the fur a little more. Huldar glimpsed her cleavage.
“Dozy shuna!” he cried. “There’d be nothing in place if your tent had ripped!” But the wind swirled into his open mouth and snatched the power from his words.
After the scorn you heaped on our diviner, what right have you to be so careless? he said. With a snarl, he continued into the teeth of the gale to check on the other tents, just to be sure.
Further on he saw a dark figure staring into the blizzard and recognized Andel. She stood as if trying to absorb the storm’s secrets, as if she wanted to be part of it. A particularly heavy blast rocked her on her feet. Her head moved and he knew she had felt his presence. Despite the conditions, warmth flushed his cheeks.
When he came to the space reserved for the Overlord, his scowl deepened. Duvät Gok had taken one look at the woeful weather and decided to remain at the base on the central continent. “Inform me when the wind has dropped,” he’d said.
Breathless Tiamäti bastard!
As he emerged from the lee of the marquee, flying snow assaulted his face. Recalling the Overlord’s smile as he’d stepped back to the warmth made Huldar seethe. Ice crunched as he stumped on.
By midday, the blizzard had cleared. As he searched the horizon for the next storm coming, Casco appeared beside him in the freezing slush. He could sense no immediate disturbance, but the planetary systems were changing rapidly and it was impossible to predict the weather with any accuracy. “Seems clear for the moment.”
“I wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to tell the Gok,” Casco sniggered. “He might come back.”
A slow grin crimped Huldar’s eyes as he peered up at the crisp blue dome of the sky. “You’re right. Might turn again at any instant.” He clapped Casco’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look at the map and see if we can get some work happening nearby. Come watch my back while I get started on local Qalān?”
Casco nodded. “Someone’s got to keep you out of trouble.”
_______
Within a few weeks, Huldar had zigzagged a sparse but adequate network of portals across the great Eastern Continent, and made the first link across to the Southern Archipelago. Since they had already found promising gold and mineral deposits on the central landmass, he felt no hurry here, anticipating a steady examination of key terrain features and interest points.
Over the next several months as the long warming season rolled through its various processes, their sense of time became harder to reconcile with Giahn time – the standard of the Realm. Most inhabited planets had day-lengths and yearly cycles that were within comfortably similar ratios, but here, as winter blended through spring, the slow increase in daylight hours was barely perceptible.
Signs of a lasting change came as warm winds arrived to tease the barren snowfields. Snow and ice
were transformed into mighty rivers that churned in a muddy race to the sea. A green haze emerged to cover the great plain where they were camped. It thickened then was swallowed by a riotous flush of flowers. Colorful carpets crept like rising waters between long corrugations of rubble stretching to the horizon – all that remained of the icy tides. Along the ridgelines’ northern flanks, tiny white flowers heaped like the glacial drifts they replaced, and the Uri’madu enjoyed a period of peace, at one with the vast open skies and wide natural beauty of their temporary home.
But when Duvät Gok met with Huldar and Casco in the sturdy tent that was their designated work area, the harmony ceased. The Overlord stabbed his finger at the map laid out on the table. “… And I want this cliff examined, here, here and here.” His list of “key terrain” seemed endless and arbitrary.
“May I ask why?” Huldar’s irritation bubbled beneath his veil. If the Overlord had not delayed being there, he would have known of this list and made portals accordingly. Again, it seemed much of his work had been wasted.
Duvät glared as if his enquiry was open mutiny. “The God-Emperor wishes us to search for rare substrates! These places seem likely. Is it my fault you were too hasty?” He jabbed the same finger at Huldar’s face. The air in the workstation congealed. “You’ve established portals in all the wrong places. Start now, and maybe we will get something useful done before it’s time to leave!”
After a brief struggle with the door-flap, Duvät Gok stormed from the tent.
Casco released his breath in a plosive sigh. “What’s wrong with him?”
Huldar thought he knew. “A while back, before we left … It was sleeting. I went into his tent when he wasn’t there.”
“And?”
Casco paused as he shared his memory of what had happened. “He was right to be angry,” Huldar admitted. “We had a chat, I asked for more time, he gave us the coal.”
“No … there’s more to it.” Casco narrowed his eyes, considering.
Huldar hesitated, but Casco deserved the truth. “I found some papers … things he’d rather I hadn’t seen.”
“What things?”
“Gambling debts … He’s a gambler.”
“Gambling?” Casco exclaimed. “We’re not that well paid. Where does he get the coin?”
“I’m not sure,” said Huldar, “and I’m even less sure where he’ll find the resources to pay what he owes.
“And we thought it was just trouble with his wife!” Casco half laughed. “I can’t believe it! I know he’s unpleasant, but gambling! How can he make all these stupid demands, as if he’s the God-Emperor himself? How can he look us in the eye?”
Huldar shook his head. He’s angry with me for knowing. “If the Imperium found out he’d be lucky to keep his job. Shifty kalla must have veils within screens within veils.”
They studied the map in silence.
“Best get started then,” he said at last. “You call the others. We’ll meet in half an hour.”
“Right,” said Casco. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?”
“That the Overlord’s a gambler? Course not!” Huldar frowned at the map. “I’ll start work on the portals he wants, but can we organize a team to start on this bit.” He indicated to a mountainous region to the north.
“Might still be snow,” Casco pointed out.
“Well, here then.” Huldar pointed to a stretch of coastline. “The coast should be fine – this area here? I saw some caves. Could be something there that’ll keep him off our backs.”
After Casco had gone, Huldar continued scowling at the map. Charms of preservation tingled in his fingers where they touched it. This was the original map made by Ziquarudjan Ulisharu of Trianog; the notes at the top had been hand-written by the great scryer herself. Because of this, he believed it was a reliable representation of the planetary landmasses as they had been, but it was a few thousand years since Ulisharu had retired, maybe more, and terrain changed over time, climate altered, continents moved. How long had it been since this planet had actually been discovered? How long since this drawing, the record of a shared remote viewing, had been made? Huldar had been a child when the old God-Emperor, Zohrät Ashik, had died, but he remembered that when the new God-Emperor took over, many stalwarts of the previous reign had resigned, Ziquarudjan Ulisharu among them. He wondered if she still thought of the many planets she had discovered, or if she was even still alive.
With a sigh, he re-rolled the chart and replaced it in its long leather cylinder. It was here for all to use, details to be added as they were discovered. At the other end of the table was a tray of reports left for Duvät Gok. He began to flick through them but paused when he recognized Tsemkarun Andel’s flowing script. It was her volcanism assessment. His blood boiled afresh. She had saved her team from certain death and nearly lost her own life, yet there it was, still unread.
He shoved the papers back into place. Processing these was the Gok’s one useful task, and he’d failed to complete even that much.
EXPLORATION
Hunkered down on a low hill in a sea of rolling blue-green plains, Huldar shaded his eyes and gazed east toward barren tundra and the glare of a crumbling ice-shelf. On the other side of the continent, where the Uri’madu were camped, warm ocean currents had accelerated the thaw. Here in the west, the ice retreated more slowly, but every hand’s-breadth of change was just as exuberant. At his feet, new vegetation grew so quickly he could almost hear its progress with the naked ear.
After a last look, he clapped loose grains of dirt from his palms, freed his legs from a clinging vine, and stepped through the new portal to the foot of the long range of chalk cliffs Duvät Gok had placed on the list for urgent exploration.
His head tipped slowly back as he studied the massive rock face, almost as white as the ice, and sheer but for a long underscore, rounded like the curve of a breaking wave. He squinted over his shoulder for a glimpse of the sea. The oceans would rise to the level of this formation and stabilize there, possibly for a full year, before the freeze began to lock them away again. He should assign a team to study the transition, but doubted there would be time on this first foray. Maybe next time.
The next portal took him to the cliff-tops further down, and he rested for a while with his legs dangling over the precipice, watching distant breakers glint in the sun. Although the wind was chill, the biosphere sang with the need to feed and grow; but curiously, the urge to reproduce was subdued, as if the planet knew its summer would be long and there would be time to do things properly.
He lay back and looked up at the cloudless sky, enjoying the warmth and solitude. It was raining where Andel was. He pictured her as he had seen her that morning, wet and miserable, yet determined to continue her work. She and Casco had found several serendite deposits associated with a seam of fiery red opal. Serendite was highly sought after by leather-workers as a substrate for superior waterproofing charms, but the opal was far more beautiful.
She had handed him a rounded lump of yellow stone to examine. He closed his eyes and pictured the smile on her face as he discovered the delicate opalized seashell hidden within it. She’d been surprised how quickly he found it.
He kept the stone. Little by little he would remove the outer casing until the fossil was revealed. Maybe he could make a plaited leather clasp for it, the way his father had taught him, then he would give it back to her.
He was still smiling when he returned to Qalān. The next major branch in the planetary web would take him to more decaying snow-fields, but before that, there was possibility of a portal set on the very edge of the precipice. They didn’t really need it, but from the outside it would seem as if one were stepping into thin air!
As he made his way along the cliffs, he saw no creeks or rivers; there were no lakes, not even a pond. But there were caves. Perhaps Bush and Topper would find water below ground. It was uncanny how reliable the brothers were. He’d never asked them how they did it, but their campsite was o
nly a few steps from where he intended to finish the day. Perhaps it was time to pay them a visit.
That evening, Huldar sat with Bush and Topper swapping stories by their fire, but as much as he enjoyed their company, sharing their evening meal was an ordeal. Despite the once-tangy local herbs Topper had added to the pot, stoic chewing yielded little flavor from an over-cooked lump of krale.
“So, Topper, where did your talents came from?” he asked.
Bush poked at the gluey substance in his bowl and said, “I’m assuming you don’t mean ’is cookin.”
“No, indeed!” The brothers had slipped into dialect, and Huldar’s eyes crinkled in a smile as he sensed their shared laughter.
“Family tradition,” said Topper. “We learned bout findin water at our parents’ knee, we did … or knees, I spose. They could both do it, but Mum was better at it than our da.”
“At least our da could cook,” said Bush.
“So this …” Huldar waved his fingers over his bowl “… is your mother’s fault?”
“Hopeless,” Topper admitted. “Still is. We try and eat out when we get home.”
“Unless Da’s a’cookin,” Bush chuckled. “It’s all about survival, see – even in the family nest.”
“No,” Topper went on, “I’ve no idea how it works, really. We just listen to the land, let it talk.”
Huldar nodded. That, he could understand.
“But there’s something I can tell you, Huldar,” Bush said, “if you don’t know already. These plains, see em now all green and lush? By high summer all be desert.”
Topper agreed. The corners of his mouth leveled.
“We found fresh liquid water, deep underground,” Bush continued. “Take time to bring it to surface, but glad of it afore too long.”
“Should move somewhere less open,” added Topper. “Move now afore weather turns.”
“Starts a’burnin,” Bush added, “like me brother’s cookin!”
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