by James Gurley
Tad had not heard that the authorities were so vicious. Like an inviting pool of water, there appeared to be much about Delphi that remained unseen below the clean surface, like a layer of pond scum slowly spreading across the bottom. Tad took another sip of his ale. It was growing warm and this time tasted vaguely of spice, an odd taste but appealing. The men resumed their banter, quickly accepting him as one of their own. Janith drained his mug and slammed it down on the table. He looked at Tad.
“Now for a bite to eat.” He pushed away from the table, nodded to the men, and motioned for Tad to follow. Once more, they negotiated the crowded room to the door, down the corridors, and out a different door that descended two flights of rickety steps to the ground. The air was hazy with acrid smoke from the garbage pits.
They walked through a barren scar on the earth that appeared to be the remains of several buildings, of which only an occasional burned plank or soot-covered stone remained. Tad imagined that a fire could easily run rampant among the close quarters of the Warrens. The mostly wooden structures would make a funeral pyre.
As if reading his mind, Janith said, “Constables came through in one of their rare sweeps looking for recruits for labor gangs. When someone began pelting them with rocks and other less desirable objects from an upstairs window, they set the house on fire.” Janith’s voice was bitter as he spoke. “Burned the entire block before people managed to control it. Killed dozens and not a word from the Council.”
On the far side of the scar, pressed close against the city’s outer wall, a low stone structure looking as old as the city itself stood alone. Unlike the previous buildings, this one had glass windows open to the night. Light shone from them, revealing the skeleton of an old garden, now only broken walls, skeletal plants and tree stumps outside the entrance.
Janith held out his arms. “The Headers Club,” he announced with pride.
Inside the building, about three score people sat at tables with clean, checkered tablecloths illuminated by candles in wine bottles. The aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread permeated the air. Music from a fiddle and fife drifted from one corner, played enthusiastically by two old men. Janith spotted an empty table, grabbed a chair and sat down. Tad followed suit. A girl, pretty and smiling, came to them.
“Two plates of meat with potatoes and bread and don’t spare the drippings,” Janith told her, slapping her ample bottom when she turned to leave. She turned and wagged a finger at him while smiling. “This is Viva,” he said. “She’s a fun one. Loves to dance and can drink me under the table. You’ll like her.”
Tad thought of Sira. What would she think of him if she saw him now? He looked around the room. The restaurant had at one time been prosperous and well-decorated, but time had taken its toll on the building, the gaudy paintings, the furniture and the peeling paint on the walls. Lengths of plain wood replaced missing ornate intricately carved molding around the ceiling. The worn tiled floors were patched and irregular though well scrubbed.
“It’s not much to look at,” Janith commented, seeing Tad’s expression, “but it was once a grand place, the old ones say. The food is good and the people friendly—that’s why I come. Oh, and Viva, of course.”
Viva danced across the room holding a tray aloft with one hand, shaking her bottom at one old man who tried to grab her. She set the tray down on their table and handed each of them a large plate heaped high with carved meat, stewed vegetables, and bread lathered in honey and butter. The aroma was enough to entice Tad to grab a fork even before he knew what he was doing. It was a sumptuous meal by any standard, hearty but less refined than the meal served at the expensive restaurant where he had taken his uncle.
“Keep your grubby hands off my ass, Janith,” Viva barked at Janith as he patted her bottom. She looked at Tad and smiled. “Who’s your cute friend?”
“This is Tad de Silva. He’s new in town.”
“Whatcha do, Tad?” she asked.
“I am the king’s companion,” he answered without thinking.
She burst out laughing. “Good one, Tad!” She turned to Janith. “I like your friend here. He’s a funny one.”
As she walked off, Janith said quietly, “I would keep my occupation quiet around here. Not everyone likes someone who works for the Council.”
Tad took a bite of drissel meat, savored the strong flavor for a moment, swallowed, and then replied, “I see. I’ll be more careful.”
Janith shrugged. “No problem. Everyone knows me. No one would dare harm you in my company.”
Talk of harm and danger curbed Tad’s appetite somewhat. He chewed the remainder of his meal more slowly without tasting it, upset that such a fine feast was going to waste. He had come to the Warrens seeking answers, but so far had found none. The rebels claimed no responsibility, instead hinting at the actions of the secret group, the Blood Cabal.
Janith pushed back his plate after having made a sizable dent in its contents. Tad was in awe of his friend’s appetite. “I’m stuffed,” he said. “Not another bite. We can wait until Viva goes off duty in about an hour. She’ll be fun enough for both of us.”
Tad was feeling tired and groggy and his back ached. He wondered where Janith found the energy. His failure to learn anything dismayed him.
“I must return to the Black Tower,” he lied. “They will expect me.”
“So soon?” Janith asked in genuine surprise. “It is hours until dawn, but I suppose the Black Tower runs on a different schedule than the Warrens.”
Tad nodded.
“Well, Viva will be disappointed, but I suppose you and Sira are an item by now.”
“We are friends,” he answered coyly.
“Friends? If that’s all, maybe I will look her up, eh?” Janith joked, punching Tad in the ribs with his elbow. The pain radiated through Tad’s back.
Pangs of jealousy swept over Tad at the thought of Janith with Sira, but he held his tongue. Janith stood and tossed a few coins on the table. “My treat. Well, if you must leave, follow the wall to the main gate. It is a direct route and safe this time of night. If anyone gives you trouble, mention Valcor’s name. That will shut them up quick enough.”
“Thank you for your company,” Tad said as he left.
Janith laughed. “Maybe I’ll take a bath and you can show me around the Black Tower sometime.”
Tad was not certain if Janith was jesting. The night was still and dark when he left the Headers, but the mass of the city wall looming beside him, thrusting above the roofs of the few buildings reflected the sparse light of Melaina just above the southern horizon and provided guidance enough through the outskirts of the Warrens. He noticed small mounds of soil he at first surmised were graves, but realized they were entrances to Quarn community burrows. A few sun gliders sat nearby. A distinct odor filled the air that reminded him of rutting stags, a stale musky smell, but he saw few Quarn. Mostly creatures of the daylight, they sought the shelter of their burrows at night.
As he neared the city gates, a man stepped from the shadows of a wall buttress. Tad stopped short and tried to get a better look at the man, clad from head to toe in a dark cloak and hat. He pulled the cloak aside and Tad became anxious when he saw the man’s pale skin, a Saddir. He walked closer to Tad, hands outstretched to show he carried no weapon in them, though Tad suspected by the man’s self-assured carriage that he could kill him just as easily unarmed. The Saddir removed his hat, revealing a long single braid of hair and a scar on his right cheek.
“Hanat?” Tad asked, recognizing the Caravan’s protector.
“Indeed, young Tushima. You have come far. The Delphinium Captain saw something in you I confess did not.”
As intrigued as he was by Hanat’s admission, he was perplexed to see the mercenary in the Warrens. “Why are you here?”
The Saddir peered into the shadows behind Tad. He did not answer. Instead, he said, “Two people follow you. I believe they mean you harm.”
“Quarn?” Tad asked in surprise.
“No, one Terran. The other is larger, perhaps Geck.”
“Why?”
Hanat shrugged. “Why I do not know. It would be best if you hurry home. I will confront them.”
“How did you know? Are you a rebel?”
Hanat looked dismayed at Tad’s conclusion. “No, I am no rebel. A friend asked me to watch over you.”
“What friend?”
“A friend best left unknown for now, for his sake and for yours. Now, hurry.”
Tad decided that arguing could be dangerous. He started to walk away, but decided to ask a question that had bothered him since the day of their arrival in Delphi.
“I heard the Delphinium captain mention ‘Korath’. What does it mean?”
Hanat glanced at Tad with sad eyes, but quickly turned his gaze to Tad’s two pursuers. “Korath was a rebel Saddir, a Marauder. He convinced my brother to join him. I arrested my brother and killed Korath. My brother was later executed. After that, I had no taste for the law.”
“I’m sorry.”
Hanat nodded. “You did not know and it was long ago. Now, run.”
Tad turned and hurried away, glancing back often over his shoulder but seeing nothing. He had traveled about one hundred meters when the sound of a scuffle erupted from the darkness behind him, muffled by the cloak of night. He stopped to listen more closely. The sharp sound of steel upon steel rang out several times until someone cried out in pain—Terran or Geck, he could not tell. The sound of a pair of running feet disappeared into the night. Tad waited with his hand upon his short blade, uncertain if his few lessons with Arias the Plin would aid him. With relief, he saw Hanat emerge from the shadows.
“I wounded the Geck. The other panicked and fled. They were not expecting me.”
Tad noticed that Hanat was not even breathing hard after his encounter. “I must thank you.”
Hanat bowed slightly. “Your warning at the beach saved several guards. Some were friends. I was indebted.”
“For whatever reason, I thank you.”
“Be quick back to your rooms. Tell no one of this. I suggest you pay closer attention to your Plin martial arts instructor. Your life could depend on your ability to defend yourself in the near future.”
Tad smiled. He knew Hanat was right. “I will. Who are you?”
Hanat shrugged. “Just a citizen protecting another citizen. I bide my time until another Caravan needs a guard or a rich merchant needs a protector.”
“A mercenary,” Tad said, confirming what he already suspected.
If Tad had offended Hanat by his use of the appellation ‘mercenary’, he did not show it.
“I have skills to offer, it is true, and offer them for a price, but I try to use them wisely. Now, enough conversation. Return to your quarters and do not venture back to the Warrens without weapons. Our friends may bring others.”
Tad sensed the uselessness of further conversation and saw the wisdom in leaving. He nodded to Hanat and began a fast trot to the gates. When he looked back, Hanat had disappeared among the shadows. He did not stop until he reached the Black Tower. He rushed to his rooms and locked the door behind him. Suddenly feeling dirty, he stripped off his clothes, filled a basin with cold water, and washed. He fell on his bed naked, wondering who the unknown friend Hanat referred to was before falling asleep.
15
LIFE AS USUAL
THE WEEKS PASSED QUICKLY, BECOMING MONTHS. EARLY mornings before the young king arose passed in the study of philosophy under Osmos’s dreary tutelage. Weaponry and self-defense under Arias’s scrutiny occurred in the early afternoon during Karal’s usual nap and math under the careful eye of Simios whenever Simios appeared. Tad surprised himself with the ease at which he absorbed all three subjects, though hard work and many hours of late night studying were required. Only with Theliolis could he relax. Close to Tad’s own age, Theliolis had not yet atrophied into the staidness of most Plin. His youth and vigor gave his lessons in the art of wizardry a new life. His quick jokes and ready humor livened up an otherwise tense and repetitive task.
Tad did not know or ask Theliolis’s true age. He had the appearance of a lad in his early twenties, but something in his eyes made Tad guess the Plin was much older. He seemed to be the only young Plin in Delphi.
When asked of this, Theliolis replied, “There are more, but we are few. Therefore, we seldom mingle with others until our Blooming.” He smiled. “I was an exception. They claim that I am the first True Adept in generations; therefore, they streamlined my education. My Blooming will not be for many years.”
“Where are the Plin from?”
Theliolis smiled. “Another place.”
“Are you human, Terran, I mean?”
His mentor shrugged. “Who can say?”
When Tad had tried to probe further, Theliolis had dismissed his queries with a smile and another shrug.
In the beginning, many of the small acts of wizardry shown to him were impossible. Slowly, as he accepted the realization that many of his concepts of the natural world, if not wrong, were slightly askew because of the peculiar geometry of local spacetime caused by the Veil, they became easier. Soon, he could manage the art of hearing conversations from a distance and divine the contents of a sealed container simply by allowing his eyes and ears to slip the chains of what others considered normal and focus upon what he wished to see or hear. At first, the effort tired him and gave him a tremendous headache. After Theliolis’s explanation that certain chemicals produced by the hypothalamus during these exertions were the cause of the headaches, he paid closer attention to processes within his body, becoming used to the rush of hormones, and the headaches eased.
He practiced slight movements with his hands to make small objects invisible for minutes at a time. The latter seemed to be more a subtle form of misdirection than true magic, tricking the viewer’s mind into not seeing what was plainly visible, but the results were inarguable.
The Plin managed their magic because of their ability to see in more than three dimensions. This advanced spatial cognition allowed them to see not only objects, but also the energy surrounding them, moving through the objects. A subtle shifting of one energy field could produce large movements in another. He knew how the Plin managed their magic, but he was no closer to learning how he could do it. Simios had hinted at devices inside his body, augmentations. Perhaps these enabled the Plin to perform their feats of marvel. However, he had no such devices. How then, Tad wondered, could he master even the simplest of deeds?
He saw Sira only twice during this time as she was deeply involved with her own studies. Once, they had walked the city and dined together under the moonlight speaking of philosophy, one of her latest subjects. She had grilled him on Plin philosophy, of which he knew nothing, and extolled the virtues of education and its role in keeping civilization from stagnating. He had good-naturedly argued that education must have failed, since civilization seemed stagnant. At first, she had taken offense at his attack on the University, but he had been unable to keep a straight face at her protestations. For his trick, she had punched him on the arm. It had been a good day, one of his best since arriving. She held his hand during their stroll and kissed his lips before departing.
On their second meeting a few weeks later, she seemed more distant, as if she had much on her mind. Finally, she admitted that Janith had shown up after one of her classes and asked her dine with him. Tad tried not to let his jealousy show on his face.
“You had a good time?” he asked carefully.
She smiled. “Yes, we did. He is a strange man, but he knows the city well and it would seem everyone in it.”
“Yes, he does.” Including some rather unsavory characters, he thought. “Will you see him again?”
She lowered her head. “He asked me to take in a play with him this Saturday,” she raised her head, “unless, of course, you can take time off. If so, perhaps we can see it together, the three of us.”
Tad bit back a silent curse at
Janith. “My studies take much of my time these days and Saturday the king reviews the Palace Guard. I must accompany him.”
“Oh, I see.” There was disappointment in her voice, but not enough in Tad’s young love-smitten mind. “You have come far since your arrival here. I see you so seldom now. We both have so little time.”
“You have time enough to go out with Janith,” Tad retorted before he could curb his tongue.
Sira looked at him. “You think I sought out his company? He came to me and, yes, I enjoyed my time with him. He showed me many wonderful things. You have no need to be jealous, though to be jealous would mean you have a prior claim on me. Do you? You never seek me out. You spend all your time with your king. I see no need to sit and pine for your company.”
Tad let his anger boil over. “Marry him then and be queen of the Warrens!”
Sira said nothing as she stormed away, leaving Tad angry at his outburst but angrier with her for reasons he could not define. Summer lingered longer than usual and the days grew hot and humid with numerous afternoon showers, leaving the air in the city thick with moisture when no breeze blew. The streets emptied of people from early afternoon until dusk, when the temperatures dropped to a more bearable level. Tiny blue Melaina dipped below the horizon for the final time, casting only a faint glow just after dusk.
In his lessons in astronomy, Tad had learned of the orbits of the planets about the suns and the moons around the planets. Charybdis was the outermost of two planets, preventing its atmosphere from becoming a ball of frozen gas by the mysterious miniature blue sun Cleodora that orbited Charybdis at a distance four times that of Bulls Eye. Charybdis took 720 twenty-five hour days to orbit Corycia, a large yellow sun twice the diameter of Earth’s Sol. Farther in, Charybdis’s sister planet, Scylla, orbited much faster, less than half of Charybdis’s year. It was a cold world. If there was life upon it, they had not made contact with Charybdis in at least five hundred years.