The Bigger Picture (To Walk the Path 7)

by Paul Smith

about him. Taking a breath, he dove under, forcing his eyes open against the sting of the salt. Grinned as one of the boto came nosing up to greet him into their underwater world. Sunlight from above fell through the surface in shafts of gold, playing off their silver blue skins as they slid effortlessly through the vaulted space, twisting and accelerating to rush the surface… tearing back into the cathedral-like hall trailing streamers of bubbles.

  His ice announced the shaman's approach and he looked at as the boto in question. He bore flashes of gold like eye shadow leading back from the corners of its eyes.

  Her eyes, he corrected, as a brief barrel roll revealed the telltale ventral slit on her underside, with the accompanying pinpoints of her marmoreal openings to either side.

  A series of distinct clicks accompanied by a ping to his ice and a jerk of her chin made her intention clear, and he nodded, kicking for the surface. They emerged at the same time, both of them exhaling gustily. He trod water, turning in place and reaching out a hand as the dolphin let the swell carry them together beneath the open sky.

  Ikari had schooled him a little in what to do if he ever met the boto, after they'd come up in one of his stories about Carpassan. Timo reached out to place his hand upon the dolphin's melon, feeling their ice connect, exchange protocols. As he'd been warned the sensation was a little odd. He could sense the mind at the other end of the connection, see it almost, in that intuitive way of things that involved the Garden. But whilst he could apprehend the consciousness there, and perceive its awareness, he could not understand it. It's patterns, the forms it expressed, were just that little bit too far removed from his own.

  Fortunately the patch the Nym had given him worked a charm. As he'd been warned, the resultant link did not work in terms of language but rather images and concepts, the former flavoured with emotional content that was recognisable enough to comprehend.

  Deciding to be bold, he returned the shaman's greeting with an impression of her dancing companions, tinged with his own pleasure. To his surprise the dolphin threw its head back, chirping loudly. He grinned, realising she was expressing amusement, emanating happiness into their connection as they touched once more.

  Hmm… let's see… He scowled briefly in frustration, trying to decide how to frame his query over the dolphin's presence here...

  Fortunately, the boto sensed his difficulty and forged on with her query. A spurt of reassurance/togetherness crossed the bridge. Images flashed through his mind: a ship on the open ocean at night, the view panning across the sky to take in the constellations before inverting to offer a resonance of the sea floor. Back to the deck, where a Nym (Ikari?) stood waiting, eyes upward, before a final pan upward revealed a darkness creeping in at the edges of perception.

  Timo shivered as the echoing sense of foreboding that accompanied that final image faded from his soul. Marshalling himself, glancing up at the sun almost as if seeking reassurance, he turned back to the creature floating before him. Concentrating, he offered a careful impression of himself linking hands with Ikari, mixing in an impression of the sun overhead as he drew the focus back from the figures and pulling them apart to show this would take place across a great distance. A thought struck him, and he cocked his head, hoping the gesture might be familiar enough to the boto to aid in its translation of the wash of curiosity he sent through the link why…?

  Apparently it was enough as the dolphin slapped the waves behind it with its flukes, delivering him an image of what looked for all the world like a vast dolphin suspended against the stars, points of phosphorescent light tracing the line of its flank. The boto broke their physical connection to vanish beneath the surface, shooting into the air seconds later in a corkscrewing somersault that could only be interpreted as joy. Timo grinned, a sudden wash of warmth enveloping him for these creatures who shared their world.

  Returning briefly to expression her gratitude, the boto nosed close, tongue protruding briefly to offer him a glowing kernel. He took it, nodding thanks and offering a last swipe of his palms down her flank. She chittered her acknowledgement, head coming to rest on his shoulder in a gesture he guessed she knew he'd understand from his time with the Drakes – Kir had warned him before that others might smell their association on him. Then the dolphin dove. He looked down, catching the flash of her flukes as she switched directions. Seconds later she and the rest of the pod were arcing away through the waves, cries of joyful farewell sailing back to him on the wind.

  Sighing, he glanced about at the empty waters he now inhabited, feeling unaccountably lonely all of a sudden. Smiling at the whimsy of his emotions, he turned back towards the ship, raising a hand to Grifarne, who waved back in understanding, disappearing from the rail. Timo struck out across the intervening swell, the rhythm of his strokes steady as he made for the Run's towering side. It was times like this he was grateful to Coren for taking the time to teach him to swim. As he crested the last rise he heard the splash of a rope ladder hitting the water.

  Hauling himself from the sea's buoyant embrace was, as ever, initially a struggle, but his muscles had ceased their protests by the time he made the rail, and he landed on deck with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes, the Skuigr grinning back at him.

  “How was your swim?”

  “Bracing.”

  Grifarne laughed, slapping him on the shoulder before leaning overboard to haul the rope ladder back in. “What news from our aquatic friends?”

  Timo grimaced. “I'm not entirely sure… they want me to contact the Nym, I think there's something on its way to meet them…”

  “Oh…?”

  Something in the colour of that innocent enquiry made Timo look at his mentor sharply. The Skuigr's expression was innocuous enough, but he sensed something beneath it. A foreboding that resonated worryingly with the darkness marring the end of the boto's message.

  “Yeah, though I couldn't make any sense of it myself.”

  He waited to see if the northerner would say more, but the former Isshjarta only shook his head, bending to gather the trailing ends of the ladder across one shoulder before straightening once more. Something in Timo's expression must have betrayed his thoughts as Farn laid a hand on his shoulder, offered a tight smile. “Best speak to Ikari kiddo. I'll go let his highness know we're good to get underway.”

  Timo grinned as the Skuigr as he turned away, but the expression didn't last. Brows furrowed he padded off across the deck in search of his cabin, some dry clothes and hopefully some answers.

  “So, you've finally met our fluked friends.”

  Timo nodded. “It was... an experience.” He smiled self consciously at the Nym. “It's odd, communicating with something - some one - who views the world so differently.”

  Ikari grinned. “Their priorities are very different to our own.”

  “Yes!” Timo waved his hands in the air, briefly looking like the excitable teenager Ikari had first met at the inn outside Coranton. “Exactly that. With the Drakes, well…”

  “They're still recognisable?”

  Timo grimaced. “I'm not sure I'd put it like that. They're... on a similar plane?”

  “Is probably as good as we're going to get,” Ikari agreed with a smile. “So, what did our friends have to say.”

  Timo pulled a face, gazing out over the view. Ikari had let him bring the setting, and almost without thinking he'd brought them to the Sentinels. Not literally, obviously - that would have been a flagrant waste of power, not to mention dangerous with the Myson on the warpath. No, they met by telepresence. But after he'd complained about the Nym always monopolising the setting out of habit Ikari had let him pick. He was quite proud of the reconstruction too, though there was something odd about the clouds in the distance if you paid too much attention.

  “It was for you, actually, hence the call.”

  “Hmm... we need to teach you to weave messages.”

  “Birds?”

  “Oh I'm sure you can do better than that.”

  Tim
o shrugged non-commitally.

  “So...” Ikari raised his eyebrows, made encouraging motions with his hands.

  “Oh, right. It went a little something like this...” and he gestured at the sky, which dissolved into his memory of the encounter.

  “Show off,” muttered Ikari, but he was grinning as he turned to watch the spectacle unfold.

  Timo watched too, careful to empty his mind off all else as the images and sound flowed forth, letting the episode wash over him as Grifarne had taught. It was a restful expeience, and he found he had to shake himself as it drew to a close. Like waking again from those snatches of sleep the body grabs when you're tired. He glanced at Ikari and felt a stab of worry at the ashen look on his friend's face.

  “What? What is it?”

  But the Nym was shaking his head. “I can't talk about it - I'm sorry Timo, I would if it were up to me. But this is something I need to bring before the Cabal. Possibly the Council of Thorns even.”

  “The what?”

  Ikari grimaced. “The closest thing our people have to a governing body on this world.” He smiled weakly. “We at Sha'Klairon are not the only members of our race living on Enoi.”

  Timo nodded understanding. “I didn't know that,” he offered quietly.

  “Hmm, nor does anyone else local, far as we know. And we'd like to keep it that way.” Ikari shot him an uncharacteristically serious look,