by Jo Clayton
As long as there was no suspicion and no direct questions to force his mind to focus, he could keep his secrets. No suspicion-that was the key. I’ll find out what you’re afraid of, he thought. Somehow. And I’ll sweep you all off this world.
He lifted the kolkrais, eased it into the box, dipped his hand into the water and sprinkled it across the leaves, then cut some moss and tucked it into the corners to keep the plant from sliding about. He snapped the lid on, tucked the container in the carry sack and got to his feet.
Money, he thought. If it costs too much, they’ll go somewhere else. The mines. If we can get at the techs, stop the mining machines…
He saw a flash of color ahead and moved cautiously toward it, his feet squelching through the muck.
Before he’d taken two steps, a weight landed on his back, knocking him flat, face in the mud, carry sack flying he didn’t know where.
Hands round his throat.
Heavy breathing in his ears.
Pull the chin down, shake and work the head, clamp teeth on one of the attacker’s thumbs and try to bite it off. Buck against the weight pinning him down.
Surge and work elbows and knees in the mud, getting them under him, pushing up, shaking side to side.
Grunting from his attacker, weight shifting.
He broke free. Rage put springs in his old knees and he was on his feet, kicking at the attacker who rolled away from the blows and got shakily to his feet.
For several moments they stared at each other, two old men panting and shaking as rage drained away, then Ilaцrn said, “Danor?”
The other Ard spat at him. “Filth. Eater of mesuch slach.”
Ilaцrn’s shoulders dropped and he looked down; his hands plucked uselessly at the mud on his clothes. “I would die if I could. I am not allowed.”
“Die! We aren’t going to die until we wipe this world clean. I saw Hereom burn and I burned with xe and I burn with every breath I take. Dying is easy. We live and fight.”
Ilaцrn stared at the wiry little Fior standing hunched from a kick to his gut, face gaunt, arms and legs skeletal from bad food and worse sleep. “You? Phratha, Danor, look at you. You couldn’t crack a nagal with a hammer. Chel Dй’s Thousand Eyes, you couldn’t even kill me and look at me!”
Danor’s body sagged and the fire went out of his eyes; he looked so old and tired, for a moment Ilaцrn half-seriously wondered if he were going to die on the spot.
He spoke hastily, slowing his words and putting stress on them as he got into what he was saying. “Matha matha, don’t tell me anything important. When the mesuch put that crown on your head, you’d betray your mother or your firstborn or whatever they think to ask you.”
He looked around and winced at the sight of the sodden carry sack half-drowned in the reeds. If he couldn’t produce some living plants and account for all his tools, it meant a beating and a session with the probe. Chel. Del what I could jeopardize. His mouth flooded with saliva, and he trembled as his body betrayed him as it had done so many times since Hunnar made a pet of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away so Danor wouldn’t see his arousal, crouched, and pulled the sack loose from the mud.
When he looked inside, the plastic containers seemed to be intact. Maybe the kolkrais would survive the mishandling. It was a hardy weed.
He set the sack back in the water, so he could rinse it off later. Without looking around, he said, “Find a place and sit down, then listen to me. Don’t interrupt, don’t say anything. Let me do the talking. Then just go.” He stared out across murky water that turned a deceptively brilliant blue out in the middle of the cheled.
“The Chave… the mesuch… they came for metals and gemstones, that’s what they deal in. They don’t care who the land belongs to, they take what they want because they can. They kill the. Eolt because it’s a game they-enjoy. They kill the Meloach and the Denchok because they are offended that such beasts should mimic their shape. It is not possible to reason with them. Would you listen if a bladal pleaded with you not to slaughter it? Would you understand its blats and honks or consider them speech? NO! I said don’t speak, just listen.
“This is important, Danor. If you kill even one of them and it is known a Fior or Keteng did it, they will take a terrible revenge. A thousand Keteng, a thousand Fior burned alive to pay for one dead Chav. Their honor demands it. I don’t understand what they mean by honor, but I’ve learned enough to know it’s a powerful thing to them. They can’t live without it. I’m not saying don’t kill them, I’m saying it HAS to seem an accident. Five days ago two died in such an accident and one of their airwagons perished also. It was smoke from the husk of a burning Sleeper that killed them, it made them wild so they lost control of their machine. What has happened before, you can arrange to make happen again.
“There is another kind of mesuch across the sea on Banitoлh. I have seen one of them. A traitor spying on, his own, kind for money and spite. That kind are enemies of the Chav. I could taste the bitterness of that hate in Hunnar’s voice and the voice of the other. Consider an alliance with them. The enemy of our enemy-you know how that goes.
“And one last thing. I say again, these mesuch are driven by profit. Make this world cost too much and they will be called away. Find our miners, ones who know the lay of the mountains. Tell them to destroy the surface crawlers, the ones like metal houses set on tracks. These control the mining machines. It will stop them and close down the mines. As much as you can, make it seem an accident. But understand, no matter how cleverly you contrive, the Chav are a bloody-minded suspicious lot and will take payment in blood for every loss.”
“Ila, I’ve got a question.”
“Be careful. Tell me nothing important or secret.”
“Our Keteng are already moving south, away from here. The Fior who’ve escaped the slave chains go with them. Will the mesuch come after them, hunt them out?”
“If it touches their honor or their profit, yes. Or to make a lesson for the rest of us.” He caught hold of the carry sack’s shoulder strap, began sloshing the sack back and forth in the shallow water. “I wish you hadn’t told me that. It’s something he’ll be bound to ask me when he needs to know.”
“Your Chav know it already, word has come their airwagons are following the walkers.” Danor got to his feet. Ilaцrn could hear the sucking sounds from the mud. “And if we do nothing, will there be less dying?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re the only Bйluchar inside those walls. If you have something to tell us, how can we know?”
“After the accidents begin, even if he lets me out, don’t come near me. I mean it. They have ways of watching and listening beyond anything you can imagine.” Ilaцrn listened to the gentle splash of the water, watched the black mud swirl off the c’hau cloth. “The Riddle Mode,” he said after a long silence. “I meant to burn my harp when Imuл burned, I didn’t, though. I was taken too soon and afterward I hadn’t the heart. I haven’t played since, but I’ve kept her oiled and fed. I’ll put my news in the Riddle Mode and you can have ears listening to untwist the meaning. Do the same if you have word for me.” He sighed. “Matha matha, go away and let me do my work.”
3
Hunnar’s shadow fell on Ilaцrn suddenly, without warning. The Bйluchar’s hand shook and he scattered soil over the other plants; he bit down hard on his tongue and continued digging out melidai so he could replace it with the clump of kolkrais. Chel Dй’s Thousand Eyes, these bulky mesuchs could move like wisps of down if they took a notion.
“You’re a mess. What happened, the Drudges get at you again?”
Ilaцrn got to his feet, stood with head down, hands in the honor position. “No, O Ykkuval. I fell in the water, got tangled in roots. It was fighting out of them that did this.”
“Mp. What’s that you’re planting?”
“It is called kolkrais, O Ykkuval. It will have a small, dark yellow flower, then a shiny red sporecase. As to use, I know none except as de
coration.”
“Ta’ma, go back to work, Cho, don’t let it die on you.” Hunnar strolled off, hands clasped behind him.
Ilaцrn dropped to his knees,, closed his hands into fists, and shook for a while. Then he pulled himself together and dipped up a dipper of water from the stream, moistened the soil with it, and began the delicate process of shifting the clump of kolkrais from the container to its new home.
“Doesn’t look like much.” Hunnar was back, standing on the far side of the stream watching him work.
“O Ykkuval, it will take a while for it to make itself at home here.”
“Ta’ma, ground grubbing isn’t my business.”
“No, O Ykkuval. You have much more on your mind than a miserable little weed.”
“Mp. You don’t know how true that is.” He began pacing back and forth along the path with its careful arrangement of flat stones, back and forth, his head tilted up so he was looking at the sky, not where he walked or at Ilaцrn even though he made a pretense of talking to him.
Eat5rn eased the bits of moss beneath the lowest layer of the kolkrais, pressed it into the soil and poured more water on it. The moss would hold the moisture and keep the plant’s roots happy until they’d tapped their own source of nutriment. This wasn’t the first time Hunnar had used him as a sounding board. From what he’d seen of Chav life, the Ykkuval wouldn’t dare talk like this to any of his own kind; it would be a weakness that they’d seize on and use to unseat him. Able to trust no one. Didn’t even have a wife to share his ambitions, at least, not here, not yet. I’m his wife for the hiatus, I suppose. He and I both know if I open my mouth about this, I’m dead. He dipped up more water, splashed across the kolkrais clump to wash the grains of earth away.
“They don’t know, they don’t know, they spend thousands on com calls to chew me out for wasting time and money. Get rid of the Yaraka, they tell me, but don’t you embarrass us, don’t get caught with your hands sticky. When I ask what do they want me to do, they say that’s your business not ours. When are you going to start shipments coming back to us, that’s what we want to know. We’ve got commitments. We need product. We’ll give you six more months, then expenses start coming out of your pockets. Hah! They foist that moron with the wide mouth on me, that Genree. Taner! What a lackwit. I’d like to do to him what they’re doing to me, I’d like to say get your bolgyet together so you can face a real inspection or I’ll fine your ass till you scream mercy. I’d like to, but I can’t. His mother is Gatyr ni Jilet’s sister and his sister is about to marry Tothar ni Koroumak. Cut my own throat if I tried it. I’ve got to do something, can’t get product with half the plant down. Wall him off somehow, get him too busy to interfere…”
Ilaцrn let the spate of words flow over him, nodding and making small listening sounds as he moved along the stream bank, setting out the plants he’d brought back with him. Nothing useful in all that glagairh, nothing he hadn’t known before. Old men, he thought. Donor didn’t tell me, but I know. A gaggle of old men plotting war. He lifted the last plant from its container, purple delk, a young one with a small single bulb, washed the dirt from its roots and settled it in its hole, tamping the dirt around it with gentle taps from his thumbs.
Hunnar paced on, spewing his anger and frustration, his ambitions and annoyances, Ilaцrn kept on murmuring encouraging noises and paying no attention to the words, shifting to make work when he finished the transplanting, pinching off dead leaves, stirring the ground to get air to the roots; he didn’t dare leave the stream bed or just squat there doing nothing.
“… and now there’s this lot from University, cinsing prynoses interfering, if this thing with the jellies gets out…” The voice stopped. Suddenly.
Ilaцrn looked up.
Hunnar was across the stream from hint, scowling at him. It wasn’t anger, the Chav’s inner lids weren’t down, his eyes were shadowed and dull.
Ilaцrn met those eyes briefly, then dropped his own. Chav reacted violently and without waiting for thought to a challenging stare even from one of their own. From a local like him, it was an invitation to a broken neck. Early days, before Hunnar had planted hooks in his head, when he was reaching out of grief for defiance, he’d earned himself broken ribs, a broken shoulder blade, and twice a concussion. Like a gath trained to bark and not-bark on command, he’d learned his lesson well.
“You won’t talk about that,” Hunnar said. “Not to Chav, not to anyone. Be sure I’ll find out if you do.”
“I have already forgotten, O Ykkuval.”
“Hm.” After a long Blistery stare, his inner lids drew back. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Those husks. Just what is the effect of that smoke?”
Ilaцrn’s mind skittered frantically as he fought to keep his face dull and incurious, to show no interest in what lay behind the question. Chel Di’s Thousand
Eyes, what do I do. WHAT DO I DO! If Hunnar really wanted the information, he could get it despite anything Ilaцrn tried and he might pull out more…
“O Ykkuval, I’m not sure I know what you want.”
“Your lot, not those vegheads, what does it do to them? You have anyone who gets a taste for that smoke?”
“I drank smoke when I was just become a man. There were reasons for it. You could call it a religious thing.” He closed his eyes. I’m not talking to him, but to you, sioll Imuл, to your spirit wherever it is. “I have not done it since,” he said aloud, “but I can remember the sweetness of that day, I can remember my senses expanding to embrace all of earth and sky and everything between. An angi’s song was… ah… bright and piercing to my ears as its jewel colors were to my eyes. I could hear grass growing and the sap rising in the trees. I have had other pleasures since, but none that quite equals that.” He opened his eyes. “And many of the aroch… that is, those who tend the Sleepers… they live year round at the Sleeping Grounds because they can’t be without the smoke or they suffer. But how drinking smoke would affect a Chav, I have no idea. You’d have to test it.”
Ilaцrn stared at the water, wondering if the probe was going to be used on him to confirm what he said; a mix of terror and pleasure drenched his body and he couldn’t have moved just then if Hunnar was whipping him.
After a long silence, he looked up.
Hunnar was gone.
6. Journey’s Beginning
1
Yawning and still half-asleep after two nights of disturbing dreams, Shadith carried her harp and gear from the room assigned to her and stood in the arcade outside, shadows from the vine leaves flickering across her face. It was a hot day, damp and sticky; sweat stayed on the skin and breathing brought a load of insects, plant spores, and a whole stewpot of smells, ranging from the oversweet perfume of the fruits on the trees in the next field over to the acrid bite of pony urine.
Peaceful. She looked up. Through the vines she could see a flikit circling overhead. Protection or spy? She clicked her tongue. Probably both. Koraka may be a slickery slider, but he’s not stupid. I wonder if I am. Stupid. Staying here. At least I’m walking in with my eyes open this time, not falling through a hole.
Followed by a line of ‘bots like ducklings waddling after their mother and a hoard of curious children, Aslan, Duncan Shears, and Marrin Ola went down another shady walk toward the tech rooms at the back of the blai, going to log in before mapping and collecting began. Better them than me. She sighed. Well, chatting to a lot of odd-shaped politicians isn’t that much more interesting. At least there’ll be music. I can live with that.
She rubbed at the hawk etching, distressed because the passion she’d felt only two days ago was draining from her, leaving her cold and dim again. Restless. Even thinking about the murdered Eolt only wakened an echo of feeling in her. She sighed. And this business of the cross-country trek on ponies wasn’t helping. Stupid, the Eolt not letting the Goлs send them in a
A Fior woman and two Ketengs with growths budding from their hips hurried past her, dragging a cle
aning cart; they stopped a moment to stare at the troop of ‘bots, then bustled into her room and set to work with much banging about, sloshing of water and unflattering comments about the mesuchs moving in on them.
Aslan leaned out the door of the workroom. “Shadow, if you’ll come here a moment?”
“What’s up?”
“Grab a seat.” Aslan kicked a backless chair across to Shadith, settled herself in her own, leaning back, elbows braced on one of the work tables. “Bad news, folks. You may want to change your plans, Shadow.”
“More bad news?” Shadith looked round for the privacy cone, raised her brows.
“No need. Anyone who’s watching knows what I’m going to say.” Aslan held up the flake, tossed it onto the table. “I took this over to the enclave this morning, saw Koraka. He got the point real fast and took me to the com room himself. And we got to watch the software melt to sludge. And the backup program follow it. Com’s dead until the Goлs’ techs figure out what happened and make sure it won’t happen again. A tech took the shuttle to the parking station. Same thing. He had to pull all personnel out of the station. Life support was going. No ship due for three months, so we’re stuck here. We can do it two ways. We can move back to the enclave and stay there hunkered down till the ship comes, or we can go on with what we planned and take our chances with getting killed.”
Shadith got to her feet. “Doesn’t look to me like all that much has changed since the last time we talked.” She pushed her arms through the straps of the gear sack and settled the harpcase beside it. “Count me irritated and on the job. I’ll be flaking the trip, dictating observations. One way or another, word of what’s happening here is going to get out.”
Without waiting to see what the others decided, she left the room, strode along the walkway toward the staging area where Maorgan and the Metau Chachil were getting the pony train organized.