“Sure,” replied Joules who turned and took several steps toward the hall. “Are you coming,” she said, realizing Blackie was still looking at the book and hadn’t moved. He joined her and they walked down the hallway. When they entered the lobby, Blackie stopped.
“I want to show you something,” he said. He stepped closer to her as if to shield what he was about to do from anyone else’s eyes and opened the book in his hand to the page with the colored figure. “See this symbol,” he said quietly, “Nita is wearing a ring with this exact same symbol on it. When I asked her about it she said she didn’t know if it had any significance. She said her father hadn’t said anything about it before he died, and she said her uncle took it around to several jewelers who were artifact experts; they said it was very old and certainly unique but they didn’t know anything more.” Blackie stopped talking and was momentarily deep in thought.
“You know what it means don’t you?” said Joules. Her question brought him back to his senses.
“Yes,” came Blackie’s reply, “and I think her uncle did too.”
“Why would he tote a ring around to professional jewelers if he already knew what the symbols meant?” asked Joules.
“I don’t think her uncle was trying to figure out the symbols on the ring. I think her uncle was trying to find out if anyone else knew what they meant. He wanted to make sure that no one else knew what they meant, and that it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to figure it out. I think Uncle Jimm thought that if professional jewelers skilled at identifying artifacts couldn’t identify the symbols on the ring then it was probably safe for Nita to wear it.”
“You are sort of screwing that up aren’t you Blackie?” said Joules. “I’m kidding,” she said when she saw the look on Blackie’s face. “What does it mean?” she asked.”
“Did you see Nita with that truncheon when the Shumbran tried to shoot her? How she jumped in the air, struck him then twisted away from the weapon’s blast while positioning herself in mid-air to land her baton squarely on his head? I was mesmerized by what I witnessed, but normal people don’t do that Joules.”
“But she said she trained with her Uncle,” said Joules. Blackie had a pained look on his face but before he could continue Joules asked, “There’s more isn’t there?”
Blackie now asked the questions, but more to himself than to Joules, “Why did her Uncle guide her, mentor her, teaching her to fight so well? Why did Nita not know any details about how her father and brother died? Was she just not saying or did she really not know? What was it about that ring that her Uncle Jimm wanted to remain secret? “This is what I think,” said Blackie showing her the colored figure. He snapped the book shut and turned it to show Joules the cover. “This is what I was reading before we went to lunch” - Centorians, Guardians of the Universes, by Stueben Stalcrys.
Joules stared at the cover. “You think she’s a Centorian?”
“I’m certain of it,” said Blackie, “and I’m certain she doesn’t know. I’m certain her Uncle knew and I’m certain her training was because her father and brother were killed, they didn’t die in some accident, they were killed doing something the Centorians have always done, quietly efficiently, behind the scenes.”
They both stood there not saying a word, staring at the cover of the book - Centorians, Guardians of the Universes. “You may be right Blackie, but you’re covering a lot of ground with a whole lot of assumptions” said Joules.
“Do I tell her?” Blackie asked.
“Of course you tell her,” Joules replied a little more loudly than necessary given their proximity. “She has to know what you suspect Blackie. You saw earlier what can happen when people don’t understand their heritage. What happened with me earlier could have gone very, very wrong because I wasn’t as prepared as I needed to be. I got lucky, and maybe you are right, maybe Gram taught me more than I realized. Well, maybe Nita’s father and uncle did the same for her. Blackie, the Shumbrans came after me because of my father. I don’t know what happened to Nita’s father, but if he was killed during some clandestine Centorian campaign there may be someone or something out there looking for his daughter. I don’t know a lot about Centorians, Blackie, but I know enough to know they don’t die easily.”
“Whoever or whatever was responsible for Nita’s dad’s death is very dangerous.” She paused for a moment and then said almost pleadingly, “Blackie, Nita needs to know about this.” They stood for a moment without talking. Joules watched Blackie’s face for some hint of how he felt.
He nodded his head slightly and said, “I need to take this book.”
Joules looked around the ruined lobby and Blackie followed her gaze. “Okay, you’ll need a library account and then I’ll check it out to you,” said Joules, “we wouldn’t want to do anything to upset the Head Librarian.”
Joules smiled and Blackie couldn’t help but smile back as he looked at all the wreckage. “No, we wouldn’t want to do that, would we?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE EASTERN RIDGES OF UMBREATHE
Seglig Venderhoft approached the Ninnth Hill Cliffs on a small path that wove through the Kimwood Trees of Kindoull Forest on the western plains. One of his favorite scenes in all the galaxies was the village of Umbreathe glimpsed just before sundown from the western ridges. And there was no more spectacular place to do that than the Ninnth Hill Cliffs. He could remember vividly the last time he was here. Umbreathe is situated in a shallow valley that stretches out on both sides of Govent Rivulet, whose waters were crystal clear and so cold it was said Paul Currei, the proprietor of The Kerdinvah, a fine ale house and bed and breakfast, could chill enough bottled home brew in 15 minutes to serve a full crowd. Sundown comes early to the valley, but as the sun descends and Umbreathe becomes slowly immersed in long shadows it is suddenly plunged into a soft golden light reflected from gigantic polished rocks high on the eastern ridges.
The peoples of a nearby planet named Delciton have a legend that the great Koganraim giants split the rocks above Umbreathe and carried their spoils to distant planets for building great homes, and that it was their hewing techniques that resulted in the perfectly polished surfaces of the eastern ridge rocks. But other peoples have their own legends. Some say Angels were told the valley would someday be settled by a mild tempered people whose credo was to treat all things with respect and kindness, protect those weaker than themselves and uplift the downtrodden. So, the Angels set about polishing rocks on the eastern ridges so they would reflect the sun’s last rays of light to illuminate the valley briefly just before night fall; it was their gift to the people who would settle there.
When the long shadows of evening suddenly disappear into the golden light, the people of Umbreathe know they have a scant two minutes to finish their chores before darkness rushes upon them and the long shadows give way to night. Seglig was preparing himself for another spectacular sundown as he trudged up the slopes. He loved watching the people of Umbreathe stroll through the hauntingly long shadows as they prepared for their evening. Smoke from chimneys was normally dispersed quickly during the day by a gentle breeze that finds its way up through the valley. But just before sundown each day, the winds calm and chimneys issue their smoke to form long curling plumes that rise in the air as if they sought entrance to the second heavens.
Seglig made the Ninnth Hill Cliffs early and found a perfect spot for watching sundown. He had been there almost a dozen times to enjoy the idyllic scene and had never been disappointed. He wasn’t disappointed this time either. The wind had calmed and the sweet smell of wood smoke lingered on the air. He could see children playing their last game of street ball. Shopkeepers used the final bit of spectacular light to put away their wares, and men and women strolled to their homes calling their children for dinner. Seglig would stay in Umbreathe that evening, it was his first time, and then he planned to leave midafternoon the next day for a business meeting on Delciton.
He had left his transport in a parking bay on the edge
of town because transports were not allowed to drive in the city starting three hours before sundown. “What a nice ordinance,” he thought. He walked up the sidewalk to find a place to dine and spend the night. Houses and businesses lined the street but few people were outside. In the front yard of a small immaculate house on the east side of the road sat a man and his daughter looking up at the stars. As Seglig approached he could hear the man naming constellations, and then began telling a story to his daughter about people from a distant planet. Seglig stood by the small fence and having gone unnoticed he listened to the story. As the man brought the story to a close and they stood to go inside, Seglig cleared his throat to announce his presence.
“Evening,” said the man.
“Good evening,” said Seglig, “might you be able to point me to a bed and breakfast.
The man didn’t hesitate a second. “You might like The Kerdinvah, it’s just up the street on the left; mind the brew if you have business tomorrow morning, especially the dark, it’s delicious but strong. You’ll find it three blocks up the way on the left.” The man smiled at Seglig and said, “Tell Paul he owes Ian Mcgrent a half pint for the referral,” and he and his daughter turned up the path toward his front door.
Seglig walked up to the counter at The Kerdinvah and asked if they might have a room available. After getting his keys, he asked where he could order dinner and the night clerk pointed toward the bar indicating they would take his order. “Thanks, said Seglig, “oh, and Ian says you owe him a pint.”
“Oh, does he?” said the proprietor. “Ian is a good lad, but he drinks more free beer than any man in Umbreathe. I wager,” he continued, “he’ll be in tomorrow about three hours before sundown to say hello and collect his commission.” That last bit was accompanied with a smile that seemed to indicate he and Ian McGrent were good friends.
The next morning Seglig was down early for coffee. The room was almost full of people so he joined a table of men deep in discussion.
“Are you that fellow that watches sundowns from the Ninnth Hill Cliffs?” asked one of the men.
Seglig was stunned; he didn’t know anyone knew he frequented the cliffs.
“Beautiful up there at sundown,” continued the man, “been up there myself on occasion; great place to relax. Take some of Paul’s brew with you next time. “I’m Bert,” he said extending his hand to shake.
Seglig shook his hand and couldn’t help notice it was very powerful, not unusually muscular, but somehow very powerful. “Donnally, Kelton, and Arton,” said Bert, as an introduction to the other men at the table, “this is Seglig Venderhoft.” Seglig was again stunned. He hadn’t introduced himself. How did this fellow know his name?
“So Bert, “began Donnally, “what do we do if they come back?”
“They won’t come back,” said Kelton.
Koganraim giants are a bit thick if you get my drift,” said Arton, “they’ll be back regardless of what they were told because they want what they want.
“Koganraim giants you said?” asked Seglig.
“Yeah, they showed up here last week saying something about mining the Angel’s rocks,” said Donnally.
“Angel’s rocks?” said Seglig.
“Eastern ridge,” said Bert, “where the evening light is reflected.”
“The Koganraim aren’t used to being told no,” said Arton, “they’ll be back.”
“I hope not,” said Kelton, “we explained the rocks are not for mining.
“If they show up again, we’ll explain again – the Angel’s rocks are off limits, no mining.”
“Koganraim giants take what they want, Bert, and they are not stupid; they’ll be back and we should be prepared.”
“We’re always prepared, you know that,” responded Bert. The discussion continued through breakfast. Finally, they stood to leave.
Seglig asked Donnally, “What if they return, what will you do?” The other men had stopped to talk to Paul the proprietor on their way out.
Donnally responded, “We wouldn’t let them do something like this to someone else. Our people aren’t comfortable sitting by idly while ill-minded beings take advantage of others. If they return, we’ll deal with them.”
“I’ve read about the Koganraim giants,” said Seglig. “They’re as unpleasant a species as exists anywhere in the universes and they’re willing to fight and take what they want, and they don’t seem to be the type to negotiate. I’ve read they all but decimated Balshan IV when they went there looking for precious metals; strip mined the entire planet without regard to the effect on its inhabitants.”
“We know about the Koganraim giants,” responded Donnally, “we didn’t know about Balshan IV until it was too late, but if they return here with ill intent, we’ll deal with them and I’m afraid it won’t end well.”
“Donnally, how did Bert know my name?” asked Seglig.
“We make a point of knowing things,” he said vaguely, “we like to know what’s going on around us.”
“If the Koganraim return will the military get involved?” asked Seglig.
“We are the military,” responded Donnally matter-of-factly. He shook Seglig’s hand. Seglig couldn’t help notice his hand felt powerful. It wasn’t overly large or muscular, but somehow very powerful.
“I hope we have a chance to talk again,” said Donnally and he left the restaurant.
Seglig returned to his room to find his communicator blinking and a message indicating his meeting had been postponed until the following week. He spent the rest of the day walking about Umbreathe trying to learn the lay of the city. He had a feeling he would visit here more often because the people were so congenial and everyone seemed content, or happy; Seglig couldn’t quite put his finger on what made them feel special.
Rather than return to the cliffs that evening to watch sundown, he stayed in town to experience firsthand the long shadows creeping out from buildings and the sudden blast of golden light before nightfall. He headed back to The Kerdinvah and found the place busting at the seams with people. He made his way to the counter to order dinner then spotted Donnally at a long table with Bert, Arton, Kelton and three other men. Bert motioned him to join them so he made his way across the room. Conversation at the table sounded tense as he approached.
“Our intelligence indicates a Koganraim mining ship will arrive just before first light,” said Bert to the table of men.
“They can’t start cutting until they’ve deployed outriggers and run their calculations. If someone is there right after dawn they won’t have had time to start cutting or drilling.”
“And then what?” asked Kelton.
“Then we stop them. No one wanted this,” said Donnally, “none of us wanted to engage them but now we don’t have a choice. The Koganraim giants only respect brute force. Tomorrow morning there won’t be any negotiating or discussion. They will come out to meet us and we’ll stop them, it’s that simple.”
“Who’s going up tomorrow?” asked Kelton.
“I’ll go,” said Donnally, “Arton can come along if he’d like.”
“Sure, I’ll go up,” said Arton, “We can meet at my transport at 5 IPT.” Bert and the others agreed and everyone left for their homes.
Seglig went to his room and set the timer for 4:00 IPT. He had decided to go to the eastern ridge and watch how Donnally and Arton handled the giants. If he sprinted to his transport and flew directly to the eastern ridges there should be plenty of time. Surely they are just going to ask them to refrain from mining the ridge, he thought. Two men against an entire mining crew isn’t good odds if it comes to a scuffle. Since he hadn’t been invited, his plan was to arrive early and find an inconspicuous place to hide and watch.
He made for the eastern ridges at 4.14 IPT and found a flat spot to park. No sooner than he turned off his transport the Koganraim mining ship appeared over the eastern plains and glided toward the ridges. It settled into position about 100 yards from where Seglig had parked. He made his way down
a small cut between the hills and back up the other side where he found a rock jutting up from the ground that provided a perfect place to watch what happened. The mining ship began to lower its stabilizers and Seglig noticed the ship’s cargo door was on his side of the ship, pointed just to his left. The ships stabilizers had touched the ground and the pilot was reducing power to its thrusters, allowing the ship to slowly settle into position. The ship was big, about 1000 yards long and at least ten stories high. Seglig looked at the top unit of the ship, straining to see into the command deck, but it was too far away to glimpse any details.
To his utter surprise, when he returned his gaze to the cargo hold of the ship he saw two men standing between him and the ship. The light was still low, but he was confident of their identities.
“Ought to be interesting,” said a voice right behind him.
Seglig jolted as if someone had just shocked him with a bare electrical wire. He turned to see Bert creeping up to the rock and squatting next to him.
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