The Sands of Argurumal (Argurma Salvager Book 3)

by S. J. Sanders

  He turned away and gathered his mate under his arm to follow as Mahame directed them deeper into the canyon where the house rose, carved from the rock itself. The long stretch of the cavern in front of it was an enormous courtyard filled with dragnars, dorashnals, Argurma offspring chasing each other. Malraha and Dreth may have been close behind him with obvious desire to avoid the male and female warriors scrutinizing them, but Veral was not concerned.

  They would become accustomed to it.

  “This place is incredible,” Terri murmured at his side as the entered the cool, dark interior.

  Despite the dark stone of the corridors, the walls were rough, and rather than polished to high shine to show of the minerals in the most elegant way possible, they were brightened by woven tapestries and lights. Some of the path lights were from the market, but there were also simple candles made from the raw material extracted from the vansik colonies. With a slightly sweet fragrance, their warmth was not only from the light they sustained but also from the rich perfume that released as they heated.

  “Okay, no offense, but I’m not going to lie. I kinda wish we came here first,” Terri admitted in a hushed whisper.

  Mahame chuffed happily ahead of them.

  “You found a good mate, Veral,” the elder observed. “Not many would appreciate the beauty of our halls, preferring the sterility of endless dark stone. The flatter and darker the walls, the more they like it. I have been to the Monushava House once, revolutions ago, with my daughter’s son, and it was like living underground.”

  Veral had never seen the house from that perspective, and he wondered if that was how Terri thought of it, too. She had never showed any comfort or true admiration there as she was now. In fact, as he thought back on it, she had almost shrunk back from everything there except the courtyard gardens. Here, she was looking at everything, her expression lit up even though the corridor was still dim. He had to admit that it did not have the endless dark, sleek beauty of the Monushava House. Instead, it was comfortable. Perhaps that was the appeal.

  Someone grunted skeptically behind him at Mahame’s observations, clearly not of a similar mind, but he did not acknowledge the response by so much as turning around to discover its source. His kin were content to ignore it, and so Veral chose to as well, rather than give anyone an opportunity to make a complaint. The time for changing their mind had long come and gone. They were all going to be guests for the next couple of weeks while Harahna weathered her final tiani period. After that, she would no longer be too vulnerable to remove from the planet surface and his mother-kin would be able to return to their regular lives.

  They arrived at a set of doors and his great grandmother squeezed a lever on the door handle and pulled it open. Electricity was limited there so it was natural that they wouldn’t waste it on something like sliding doors. The rough-hewn door was heavy and formidable and, in many ways, Veral felt safer with it separating him and his immediate line from the rest of the household. It would take considerable effort for anyone to enter uninvited.

  Stepping inside, he was immediately engulfed in the sweet smell of gardna blooms that grew near the groundwater springs and the spicy bark of the lanik. Someone had picked the fragrant herb and placed it throughout the room to freshen it. A happy sound escaped his mate as she sighed and drew in a deep breath. This scent pleased him, but even more so because Terri obviously enjoyed it.

  Mahame paused by the door, her vibrissae swelling with pride.

  “I see that these chambers are suitable. Good. The preparations for the feast have already begun, but it is not yet time for Harahna’s presentation and naming. Our gazthi will let us know when she is ready. You will be retrieved then.”

  Veral inclined his head in respectful agreement, herding his mate deeper into the room as the door was closed behind them. At his side, Terri let out a low whistle as she looked around. She patted Harahna’s back as their daughter tugged curiously at her long, yellow hair.

  “They’re really going to have a full ceremony for Harahna? Why does this feel like it’s more than the meet-and-greet after her birth?”

  “It is different,” Veral agreed as he settled into a large chair, moving his foot just in time to avoid Krono’s weight sprawling over it. He opened his arms for his daughter, taking her up against his chest. She was so tiny against him, fragile and dependent on them to care for and protect her—even with the symbiont. Strong emotion rose through him as it did every time he so much as looked at her or thought of her.

  He suddenly understood his mother and father very well. He would not survive being separated from either his daughter or his mate. His daughter would never be processed and have her unique identity destroyed.

  Pulling free of his thoughts, he continued with his explanation. “Harahna’s presentation was mostly symbolic and to welcome our daughter to the house. This time, she will be presented by the gazthi, the spirit speaker of the line. She will present our offspring to the gods and spirits of the house and conduct divination to foresee her fortunes. The feast is a symbolic one that is shared with the gods of the house, recognizing the bond between the living members of the house and those they have with the gods and ancestors,” he elaborated.

  “You seem to know quite a bit about it,” she observed.

  He grunted in agreement.

  “I was present for two naming ceremonies when I was a young male, still early in my training. They are strange rituals, but important ones among my kin.”

  His mate hummed thoughtfully.

  “You respect their beliefs even though you don’t share them.”

  “I do not know what to believe. Belief in an unseen world is illogical and self-deceiving.”

  “But…?” Terri prompted.

  A low hiss escaped him. He hated to admit to anything that defied logic.

  “But in the Galithilan, or even among the dunes of the Quarnet’safet, it is more difficult to dismiss the possibility of such beings. I am not programmed to believe. My processors struggle with it,” he admitted.

  Terri settled on the arm of his chair, her sweet scent surrounding Veral.

  “Do you want to believe?” she asked.

  He paused, considering.

  Did he want to?

  He thought of the joy and reverence on the faces of his far-kin when they received blessings from the gazthi, or even among other species, many of them salvagers he had met who had expressed joy from their beliefs.

  He would like to know what that was like. It seemed a wholly organic experience that was out of reach for a highly modified Argurma—and a secret part of him desired it. He also recoiled from it. His world was perfectly calculable as it existed now. The possibility of feeling less control and understanding regarding his world was not a thought he enjoyed.

  “I have never seen or experienced a divinity,” he said instead.

  His mate laughed, brushing a kiss lightly against the tip of one ear.

  “I don’t think it works that way,” she murmured.

  He leaned into his mate’s touch, his heart heavy with emotion that he did not understand or know how to process or express. He felt it filling him without direction. Perhaps that was part of what belief was like, too.

  “I do not know,” he admitted at last.

  Hours later, as they sat among his far-kin, tables of food stretched out in front of the communal benches, he still did not know if he wished to experience such a thing. No one ate. All eyes were attentively fixed on the gazthi.

  The last time he had witnessed the spirit ceremony, the gazthi had been ancient, her vibrissae nearly translucent with age and her scales dull and colorless. This was not the same female. Her successor was young, her expression serene as she carried Harahna to the low altar that was a permanent fixture in the room.

  Laying his daughter amid a nest of blankets, she spoke in a soothing voice. It was too soft him to make out properly, but Harahna did not cry nor struggle against the female. Instead, her little glowing eyes
followed her curiously as the gazthi anointed her with fragrant oils. A bowl set up on long three long iron legs stood off to the side filled with hot coals, a cloud of sweet, white smoke erupting from it when she suddenly cast a handful of powder onto them.

  The gazthi inhaled deep, her voice taking on a rolling quality, one word blending into another in a stream of indecipherable chant. Her hand twitched, and she dug into her pouch with one hand as she brought the opposite one to her mouth. Biting down on her thumb, she allowed three drops to fall onto the hot coals before her nanos were able to repair the wound.

  The blood sizzled on the coals, but she took no heed of it. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her strange chanting growing louder and filling the room, drawing tension from the onlookers, as she pulled out a token from her pouch and set it on Harahna’s belly. Another was set at the crown of her head and another at her feet. Tokens were then placed at either side of her shoulders.

  The gazthi shuddered as she leaned over his offspring, her eyes staring unseeing at the tokens. Her words were barked in a strained rasp.

  “Harahna’monushava’terri spans the worlds. The gods favor her and will see her grow strong. She will see many places unseen and will grow in wisdom and cunning. The gods will this that they send their daughter out beyond us, to not return for fifty cycles around the sun. She will not know Argurma air or sand, but she will return, and her footsteps will be known across our world. This is as the gods will that she will be a powerful warrior who will rally the world that shall break and fall in her absence. She has been marked by destiny!”

  The gazthi’s voice snapped through the room like the crack of lightning. The deafening silence that followed was short-lived as conversation erupted from all corners. Never had a child of their line been offered such a foreseeing. Dishes clattered, the sound joining with the chatter as food was passed around. The feast had begun, but Veral’s entire focus was on his daughter as the gazthi carried her over and lay her gently in his arms.

  “You will raise her well, and her brothers and sisters that come after her,” the gazthi whispered, her eyes glowing unusually bright even still, her voice throatier with a rough rasp like a blade drawn over a rock. “Do not fear her fate. The gods will protect your line.”

  The gazthi drew back, the ornaments around her neck rattling. She did not join in with the feast but disappeared through a narrow hall at the opposite end of the room. With her body still trembling from the aftermath of the ritual, he calculated that she required time of solitude. An older offspring followed her with a platter and jug so that her needs would be seen to.

  At his side, his mate drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Her lips were parted, and her eyes with awe and some undefined emotion. Sensing his gaze, she turned and looked at him and gave him a nervous smile.

  “Wow,” she murmured with a weak laugh. “So much for a peaceful life of adventuring among the cosmos.”

  “We will have that life,” Veral swore.

  He would not let down his mate.

  31

  Terri grinned at the Argurma female sitting across from her. They were both seated cross-legged on the floor as their babies, only a month apart in age, sprawled on the floor at their sides. Unlike most other parts of the planet, the Galithilan Houses, while slow to breed, weren’t suffering from any recent reproduction issues.

  Not that they would share that with the council.

  They kept to themselves, hidden deep within the sands, sending out only occasional caravans with goods to their kin on the borders. Secretive, they preferred to remain as unchanged as possible. They hadn’t been able to avoid the introduction of nanos, but they rejected most other things outside of tech they specifically selected that would increase the enjoyment of their lives without bringing misery.

  Although reserved, the lack of “upgrades” made a noticeable difference among their population. Children were showered with affection. Males laughed and attempted to outdo each other in stories and contests or drank pulsed and fermented vansik—something she still couldn’t get her mind around, as much as she enjoyed eating the little critters fried. The females drew her into their company, showing her how to do various tasks that she demonstrated interest in. Although there were plenty of female guards, Terri found herself gravitating more and more to the males and females who were weaving and making household goods. She was terrible at it, but with all the fighting that had occupied her time, she discovered that she enjoyed it.

  Veral accompanied her much of the time, conversing with his cousins or with his far-kin as he lingered nearby. When he was absent, she always had guards hovering close. It had taken time, but after a few days, he reduced her guard to one so that Malraha and Dreth could alternate shifts. It allowed them to engage in other activities in their downtime and was far less stifling to her, so she approved.

  She was going to miss the place when they left. The days had passed quickly as Harahna grew by leaps and bounds. At a month old, she was able to crawl around a bit before she exhausted herself and was interacting with everything she could grab and stick in her mouth. They would be leaving any day now. Veral conferred with his people on the best way they could bring the starship down to collect them. It was going to have to be a quick exit directly from the canyon to avoid sand blowing into the engines and vulnerable points of the Wanderer.

  Dari’samah met her eyes and smiled as they worked together, weaving knotted fibers into a large rug between them.

  “You will be leaving very soon. I will miss you, Terri. When your daughter returns to our world, you must come with her. We can speak of all of our offspring and return to our weaving together… and you can tell me of all your adventures,” the female added with a teasing light in

  her eyes.

  “And will probably bore you to death with half of them,” Terri snorted with a laugh. “Salvaging and doing odd jobs isn’t glamorous. It’s often just dirty and boring work. I’ll miss you too, and will send you comms. I know they’ll take time to get to you, but I will stay in touch so you’re updated on all of the dull details.”

  Dari chuffed.

  “I am sure you will find a way to make it interesting in your duty, unlike some.” She grinned, her head tipping toward Malraha, who stood stiffly a short distance away with her dorashnal standing tensely at her side.

  Poor animal seemed as miserable as her bonded Argurma.

  “She looks like someone has asked her to hold a galgar in her mouth,” she whispered, her mandibles vibrating with amusement.

  Terri bit back a laugh. A galgar was a small scorpion-looking insect, but rather than possessing a venomous sting, its tail, easily twice the size of its body, sprayed a foul liquid in self-defense. The comment wasn’t nice, but not incorrect since Malraha had a tight expression that Terri was starting to identify as her put-upon expression. Even the firm press of the Malraha’s lips looked sour.

  Knowing that the female would have been able to hear the comment with her enhanced hearing, Terri didn’t want to embarrass her further. It was bad enough that the female had embarrassed herself with bitter comments and rude observations about everything. Veral’s far-kin had tolerated it, but it seemed that Dari wasn’t above poking at the too-serious female.

  As they finished their knots, completing the rug, Dari sighed and pushed up to her feet. She shot a narrowed look at Malraha but smiled at Terri as she folded up the rug and tucked it over one forearm before scooping her son up into her arms. Although toothy, Terri decided she enjoyed the genuine smiles of the Galithilan people.

  “Come, Terri. We have finished our work. Now is time for enjoyment… if your guard knows such a thing,” she said.

  Malraha bristled, but Terri jumped to her defense before a fight broke out.

  “Things are different beyond the Galithilan, but they do enjoy games of chance and strategy as well as gardens.”

  Dari’s brow rose in surprised as if it never occurred to her that those beyond their territory knew how to enjoy any
thing at all.

  “Indeed,” Malraha snapped. “Just because we are controlled and civilized does not mean we do not have our enjoyments. We are not as crude as the Galithilan people. Judging by the way Veral growls and moans, rutting like a beast whenever he has the opportunity to be alone with his mate, it is clear where that comes from. This entire place stinks of beasts and is unworthy to house our Ahanvala.”

  Terri’s jaw dropped at the vehemence in the female’s voice, but Dari stiffened, her eyes slitting and heating with blue fire.

  “I’m sorry, Dari,” Terri said quickly. “I don’t know what just came over her. I’ll talk to her and join you in a moment.”

  Dari nodded stiffly, her expression glacial as she focused intently on the guard for several heartbeats before turning to Terri. Her expression softened.

  “I will be by the lower pool,” Dari said. “Once you are done, she can bring you there. Do you know the way?” she asked, directing the question to Terri’s guard.

  Malraha predictably stiffened

  “I am aware of the route,” Malraha bit out. “I have the layout recorded in my processor.”

  The other female’s lips turned in distaste, a small shudder running through her, but she nodded.

  “How fortunate that you come equipped with one,” Dari replied. “Having the seat of your soul opened and experimented with benefits you at least in one way, whether your soul escapes or not.”

  Terri bit her lip. Having discovered that the Argurma of the Galithilan believed that the head housed the soul, she was not surprised to learn they believed that those Argurmas who were processed stood a chance of losing their souls to it. It made them even warier of interacting with those they didn’t personally know to still be ensouled. The dig in response to Malraha’s comment was clear. If she didn’t separate them soon, a fight would break out.