-journal entry of the ninth Lore Keeper of Hutan
The Preceptors sitting across from Dayn murmured worriedly among themselves, indifferent to the transport's peculiar motion. Liberal amounts of silver touched the hair of the eight Ringmen. Dayn could mistake them all for Elders, except for their gray overcoats and the hungry looks they shot at his pack when they thought he was not looking. He could feel the pull of Shard's ground leaving him. The sensation made his eyes water, and his stomach tried to sink through his boots.
No openings were present in the transport’s barren hold, although simple metal benches lined either side of the interior. A wide hatch made up the entire rear wall, which was partitioned by an inner crystal door. He could almost see outside through the forward window, at least, which lay ahead of where vapor misted around the two navigators operating the craft. The other Preceptors stared forward as well, but for far different reasons.
Nassir and Lurec argued steadily, stopping only to ask questions of the two navigators seated before them in their curved seats. “...back to his district at once,” Lurec was saying.
The transport jerked imperceptibly, and Dayn squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp. He once believed a transport ride would be exhilarating, but he did not count on his fluttering stomach. Dayn missed the rest of Lurec's words, but some of the eavesdropping Preceptors nodded to themselves.
“Protocol must be followed to the letter, and he will give account to the Throne. Pray the Lord Ascendant doesn’t heed my counsel, for I would see you stripped of your position and sent back to your homeworld in shame.”
“But I―”
“Take your place!”
The other Preceptors’ speculative whispers died out as Lurec sat beside Dayn, his face stricken. None of his fellows met his eyes.
Dayn felt guilty, for he was glad Lurec lost the argument. Nothing but shame awaited him at Wia Wells. This Lord Ascendant might easily be the most powerful man in the World Belt. Not a world leader, but still in command of the Ring. Surely Dayn’s delivery of the Seed would earn some favor, and a measure of forgiveness once he returned to Shard.
Nassir obscured the transport's clear crystal pane, but Dayn could still see the sky outside as it shifted from Shard's steady, familiar blue to an indistinct gray, which soon gave way to night. Dayn gazed at the stars, entranced.
“I'm sorry if I've brought you trouble,” he finally ventured.
“Lad, I would face a force of such men for the gift you’ve brought us,” Lurec said. His face tightened as Nassir returned from the navigators, but quiet resolve filled his voice. “Your service will bring great reward.”
“I’ve known nothing but trouble since the night I found it,” Dayn replied, just as quietly. “I don't care who I have to talk to, so long as I'm rid of it. That will be best for me and my village.” Lurec offered a thoughtful nod, but lapsed back into silence. Sitting across the hold, the Defender regarded Dayn with unreadable eyes.
Dayn sat straighter, remembering Nerlin's words. I won't be taken for some backcountry lout, he silently promised. Nerlin might very well be dead by Moridos’s hand, alone in the ruins of Terabin Round with no wreath for his grave.
No. That is what the voidwalkers want me to believe, Dayn upbraided himself. They turn your thoughts against you. I won't help them by doing it to myself. He pictured Nerlin whole, making his way back to Wia Wells under cover of mist.
“Watch yourselves,” the navigator called out, running a damp hand through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. His green eyes were set in a kindly, fair-skinned face that looked wrinkled before its time. “The Ring is about to pull free of Shard's shadow. The glare can hurt your eyes.” Dayn leaned forward with rapt anticipation despite the warning.
Through the forward window, stars fled from the transport's path, winking out along the edges of an ominous black mass. Shard’s shadow abruptly withdrew, unveiling the World Belt’s greatest fortress.
The Ring floated silently before them, gleaming metal reaching out of sight to either side and looming ten miles high. The fortress looked like a bristling mountain range torn from the spine of some world, beaten and shaped by the hands of men. Granite towers of impossible size dominated the top at irregular intervals.
Dayn stepped forward in awe, craning his neck to see the edges of the shaped stone and metal.
“Your gaping craw is going to throw off my readings, farmboy.” The other navigator growled. He had helped pull Dayn into the transport, but looked at Dayn now like he would a beetle under his shoe. Lean and whip-like, he had the reddest hair Dayn had ever seen. Both navigators wore plain blue overcoats. “No Beltbound in the hangdeck.”
“He's fine, Samli,” the older navigator barked, flashing a wink at Dayn. “It wasn't so long ago you were fogging up my vapor array, your own self. Mind your pitch.”
“A thousand Sheercrest miners could work their whole lives and not build such a place,” Dayn said. The Ring's surface came into further detail as the transport drew closer. Soon Dayn could see nothing else. Embedded bands of metal glinted against the rock in brilliant hues of white and silver.
“The sight can be overwhelming, the first time. Is it not, Jetar?” Lurec joined Dayn behind the navigators. Samli scowled at him, but minded his controls. Glowing droplets spread on the metal surface surrounding the navigators' chairs, forming complex patterns of symbols that rippled at their touch. Samli manipulated the suspended web of droplets under Jetar's watchful gaze.
“Sectional levels a mile thick, and a hundred miles across,” Jetar said proudly. “It’s not completely hollowed out of course, many sections are solid rock.”
“I’d thought it to be an actual ring, but it looks more like a giant slab of wall,” Dayn observed. Samli and Jetar shared a long look, but said nothing. “It’s as big as a world, isn't it?”
“Not nearly, mudfoot,” Samli muttered.
The transport slowly drew within a few hundred feet of the Ring. Crystal channels crisscrossed the surface. Dayn marveled to see Ringmen behind them, moving about their tasks in the hallways like termites in a fallen silverpine log. Jetar cleared his throat, and Lurec nudged Dayn back into the hold.
A metal gateway nearly two hundred feet wide slid upward to reveal a shadowed chamber within. They passed through, and the metal rumbled to a close behind them. Another identical portal opened before them, revealing a brightly lit cavern and hundreds of transports.
They touched down with a thump. Samli muttered something that made Jetar laugh. A hiss of air, and the Preceptors pressed eagerly toward the hold door. They avoided making eye contact with the Defender, and looked tremendously relieved to escape his presence. Dayn wondered if he should share their feelings.
“Peace upon your path,” Jetar called to them. A flash of pity touched his face when he saw Dayn peering nervously out of the hold door. “Stand tall, young Shardian!”
Dayn waved goodbye to them both, and filed out between Lurec and Nassir, clutching his packs and staff. The Defender suddenly grabbed Lurec's arm, and leaned over to whisper briefly in his ear. Judging from how the Preceptor's eyebrows rose, pleasant words were not chosen. Dayn stood by uncertainly until Nassir strode off, reminding Dayn of a hunting ridgecat. He would not miss the Ringman one bit.
“I will see you before a Query if I must, Defender,” Lurec said to the man's back. “If you believe―” he cut off sharply after a glimpse of Dayn's round eyes.
“You needn't hear all of that, I suppose,” Lurec sighed. He touched the bruise on his forehead with a wince. “I'm sorry you were brought here in this manner, young Shardian. Certainly not a hero's welcome, but that’s what you are, whether he realizes it or not. We can at least examine the Seed while the Ring slumbers. It is night here, and most everyone should be resting, except for the Defenders. I've never seen a Defender sleep.” He frowned in the direction Nassir had disappeared. “Do not worry about the Lord Ascendant. Tell your story truly, and you will return to Shard within the day.”
“They would not be Defenders if they did not. Now come. Let others worry about such things.”
Lurec walked quickly through the transports, spaced in neat rows. Huge stalactites spilled from the ceiling two hundred feet above, piercing the dull metal floor in random places. The combination of unadorned rock and gleaming metal felt unfinished, somehow.
Powerful lights shone out from the stalactites so hardly a shadow touched the bay. Several navigators milled along Lurec’s chosen route. They eyed Dayn curiously―especially his staff―but said nothing as they passed.
“Is that cross coupling tight?” A woman's voice sounded from deep within a transport's hold as Dayn walked by. He heard splashing sounds inside.
“It is,” another navigator shouted back, scrambling beneath the transport. “Peace, I've checked it three times!”
“Then why are we still losing water?”
The reply was lost as Dayn turned a corner, following closely in Lurec's wake. Driven by his own thoughts, the Preceptor nearly walked head on into a dozen circled navigators. They all looked as different from each other as they did from Dayn. They could be from different worlds or the same world, for all I know. Lurec murmured apologies before passing through.
“Beg pardon, Preceptor.” A burly man with a thick black beard nodded politely. The other navigators crowded close again once Dayn passed. “So he asks me, 'How was I to know we were in their migration path?' I says back, 'Boy, ever since you grazed that erratic, our hold has looked like the finest nest in the torrent this side of Tu'um!'”
The navigators all roared as the burly man pointed to the transport above them. Dayn gaped at the hull. Fist-sized holes pockmarked the metal and looked...gnawed on. What in peace's reach could chew through metal?
“I thought they were going to eat us,” another navigator said peevishly. Embarrassment lit his face so badly, Dayn could scarcely see his freckles. “But they went straight for the ore.” More laughter sounded as the group fell away behind them. Dayn wanted to hear more, but Lurec did not even slow. New oddities soon demanded his interest.
They passed another transport where a bleary-eyed navigator carefully peeled away what looked like enormous palm fronds from the front of his craft. He yelped when one of them twitched, then continued at his task, more warily than before. The veins of the fibrous leaves pulsed regularly, and the bony protrusions along each edge looked like sharp, green teeth.
Down another row, Dayn spied two navigators scrubbing the hold of another transport vigorously with long-handled brushes. Their hair looked like curly rays of sunshine, and their honey-colored skin shone with sweat. They worked together in the familiar manner of husband and wife. The repulsive orange lichen they were scraping at began to eat through the transport's belly, and they both started to swear profusely. The sound of boots echoed through the bay as more navigators rushed over to help.
Dayn could only imagine what other curiosities the navigators dealt with, but the Preceptor did not stop once. They passed out of the chamber through a large metal door that made Dayn jump when it slid open with a hiss.
Lurec turned left down a dimly lit hall of formed stone, and to Dayn’s surprise, began to bound. Nondescript hallways constantly split away from his route, as though they were moving through an anthill. They saw no other Ringmen.
“I think every house ever built on the whole of Shard could fit in here,” Dayn called out.
“I'm sure that's not true.” Lurec slowed his pace to talk. His mood seemed much improved, closer to the man Dayn first met back in the Mistlands. He gestured to the surrounding halls. “We’re now in the Outer Walk, the largest section of the Ring. Our Consorts hear petitions over trade disputes, merchant's rights, transport requests and the like. You’ve seen the Consorts on Shard, assuredly, when it’s time to take in the Pledge?”
“Once. We store the harvest in your barrels, at the Festival of Sealing in Misthaven, but the Consorts always come down after everyone leaves Misthaven.”
“I see,” Lurec said, nodding thoughtfully.
Defenders and Preceptors might have all the brawn and brains, but the Consorts keep the bread. Dayn had heard a Misthaven Elder tell his father that once, and wondered what the Preceptor would think of it. “Everyone bounds here?” he asked instead.
“After a fashion, yes. But the ground is strong enough to walk normally, as most still prefer. We also use these.”
The hall ramped upward, with metal rails attached to either wall about waist high. The Preceptor bounded up the ramp, using the rail to pull himself along. His feet never touched the ground until he finally came to rest at the top. Dayn followed him easily, and launched himself with a single leap to where Lurec waited.
“Enjoy showing off, don't you? The ground on the Ring is not kept so strong as Shard, except for the halls where the Defenders train.” The Preceptor cast furtive glances down the intersecting hallway at the top of the ramp. “We need to be quiet now, and walk quickly. Everyone will know of your discovery, soon enough. There’s no telling what will happen to the Seed then, thanks to that insufferable Defender. The Lord Ascendant will summon you once he gives his account. Until then, any Preceptor who stands higher than I can requisition the Seed, and I would be powerless to stop them. So for now, I would prefer not to be seen by any of my fellows. Do you understand?”
Dayn nodded. “I know when to keep my mouth shut.”
“Good lad. My study is in the Middle Halls, the Preceptor's domain. Let's hope the same luck that saw you to the transport holds.”
They ghosted quietly down the halls. No one chanced upon them as they crept along.
“Ah, here.” The Preceptor stopped in front of a door of a dull blue set into the simply cut umber rock. Nothing distinguished it from any other door in the hallway that Dayn could tell. It whisked aside at Lurec's touch. Dayn entered the dark interior at the Preceptor's beckoning.
“Welcome to my study.”
A warm glow illuminated the spacious room as the door closed itself, although Dayn could see no lamps. He peered around curiously as the Preceptor took off his gray overcoat and tossed it on a stool. Lurec's study would have made Dayn's mother cringe. Open, leatherbound books with cramped notes scrawled neatly in the margins formed precarious heaps on every available surface. Pinned insects and leaves encased in glass littered a huge stone table in the center of the room.
“It’s...nice,” Dayn managed. An enclosure surrounded by clear crystal panes took up one wall of the room, complete with dreary plants, and a hopelessly scum-filled pond. It reminded Dayn of the swamps around Southforte. A pallet with crisply folded blankets stood nestled away in a corner, between bookcases filled to bursting.
“You sleep in here?”
“When the need arises.”
Lurec removed a tower of books from a stool beside the table and motioned for Dayn to sit. He swept aside some dusty scrolls that made them both sneeze, revealing a circular metal bowl built into the table top. Dayn set his packs and staff near the door and settled on the stool.
“Dayn, would you...? Thank you.” He placed the Seed into the bowl at the Preceptor's prompting. Lurec rummaged through some glass containers on a shelf until he found the one he sought. He applied the clear paste within to the bruise on his forehead and sighed in relief.
“Why will no one else touch the Seed?” Dayn asked. He could not help but stare as the Preceptor’s bruise faded right before his eyes. “I almost think people are afraid of it. Should I be, too?”
“Afraid? Certainly not. Think of it as respect. The less people who handle the Seed, the better. At least, until we understand precisely how it works.” Lurec poured water from a small flask into the bowl. The water's surface dimpled and flashed around the red orb. It glowed more vibrantly, pulsing in a regular rhythm.
Dayn grew nervous, as Lurec studied the water intently. Something
about the glow made him uneasy. “Well, does it work? You sounded like you didn't know before.”
“I was certain this specimen was intact from the moment I laid eyes on it.” Lurec sat back, clearly satisfied with whatever he saw. “And I am right. I cannot thank you enough. My every conscious moment shall be devoted to this treasure you've found!”
“What is it?” Dayn asked, watching the Seed's light. He rubbed his shoulder absently. It occurred to him that he needed to change he bandages beneath his shirt, although he no longer felt the wreathweaver's bite. “You never told me, after everything that happened.”
“Yes, of course. The Seed...where do I begin?” The Preceptor laced his fingers behind his head and pursed his lips. He glanced over at his swampy enclosure. A hidden frog croaked from somewhere within the mire. “You must understand that the Seed predates the Ring by thousands of years. All of its powers are not fully understood. Perhaps it is simplest to think of it as a living repository. A record of the entire World Belt's plants and animals―many long dead. I imagine a farmer would appreciate that aspect most of all.”
“I thought it’d be for more than just study,” Dayn said dubiously. “I thought it would do something. Even our Elders keep a bestiary, and Wia Wells is small. We’re taught everything they know about plants before our first Sealing.”
“That is impressive.” Lurec leaned forward intently. “Yet how would you tend crops that you are not as learned about? From Shard's Highlands, her swamps or caves? Do you have a lifetime to master each of those environments, should your skills be called upon elsewhere? Or on another world, perhaps?”
“Well, no,” Dayn admitted. “But I could learn in a season or two. What good is—”
“Perhaps a test is in order. A demonstration.” Lurec stood and plucked the Seed from its strange bath. The rippling water immediately stilled. Dayn followed him over to the habitat. The Preceptor lifted the crystal top, and the fetid smell of rot and standing water immediately wrinkled Dayn's nose. Lurec unceremoniously plunked the Seed into his odd little swamp. The red glow showed dimly through the murky water. He peered at it with a thoughtful expression before closing the top. “Curious. I've never read of one pulsing this way. I hope it is truly undamaged.
The Seedbearing Prince: Part I Page 15