“And was this young captain someone with whom I’m familiar?”
“He was.” Rias tapped the map. “A copy of this would be useful for navigating in and out of the harbor on our first voyage, especially if there’s something out there—” he waved toward the ocean, “—we should investigate.”
“I’m told there isn’t, nothing of archaeological significance anyway. Our people have documented everything that’s happened in the last seven hundred years, and before that the islands were uninhabited.”
Rias lifted his gaze from the map. “Nobody had ever been here before?”
“According to the history texts, when my ancestors landed here, there wasn’t any evidence that other humans had ever settled or even set foot upon these islands.”
“After my ancestors chose to depart from the Nurian continent, they roamed the oceans and explored widely, looking for an uninhabited land before choosing what they eventually turned into Turgonia. I haven’t studied that period of history extensively, but I’m surprised they didn’t find your islands at any point in their travels.”
“It’s interesting that you said your people ‘chose to depart’ Nuria,” Tikaya said, wondering if he’d be offended if she shared an alternate view of the history with which he’d been raised. “The Kyattese global chronicles tell us that the peoples who banded together to become the early Turgonians were those who were persecuted and shunned and even enslaved in Nuria because of their poor affinity for learning the then burgeoning mental sciences. They fled the continent in search of a land where they could live without worrying about Nurians.”
Rias lifted a hand, palm up. “History has always been written to favor the viewpoints of those penning the texts. Were not your people also fleeing something when they left the Southern Hemisphere?”
“A plague, yes. It broke out after opposing factions started a war that decimated the continent. My ancestors were those who left after governments collapsed and chaos reigned. They vowed to find a new land where they could adopt a peaceful way of life and stay neutral in other nations’ disputes. They found their way here seven hundred years ago, and we’ve always prided ourselves on starting over so successfully.” Realizing she sounded a tad supercilious again, Tikaya mumbled, “Not that any of that matters now,” and returned her attention to the table. While comparing historical accounts was interesting, they had limited time in the library. She opened one of the books.
“What are your people hiding, I wonder?”
Perusing a map, Rias sounded like he was talking to himself, but Tikaya felt compelled to ask, “You just have a hunch, right? No proof of anything?”
“They’re upset by my submarine construction plans.”
“Because they fear you’re still holding hands with the emperor and he’ll want to use your submarine for purposes that’ll be detrimental to our people.”
“Yosis’s comments aside, I don’t believe for a moment that your high minister thinks I’d build my craft in front of them if that were my intent. I also suspect that the Kyattese diplomats stationed in Turgonia have ferreted out the truth about my alienation from the emperor—they must know I’m no longer his man. Your government is making up false concerns to camouflage something else. There’s something down there that they don’t want me to see.”
“I’m not aware of any underwater secrets that my people are hiding from foreigners.”
“Maybe they don’t want you to know about it either.”
Tikaya propped her fist on her hip in exasperation. So far, she had nothing more than his hunches to go on, and they seemed to be straying farther and farther from the likely. The only thing that supported the idea that something fishy was going on was the odd closing of the library wing. For all she knew, there was a burst pipe waiting to be fixed or some other innocent piece of maintenance requiring attention. “Maybe you’re a paranoid Turgonian who’s ascribing entirely too much intelligence to my government.”
“I’ll admit that there are a number of popular sage quotes involving paranoia and survival in my culture, but your government isn’t full of fools. Regardless, if we do operate under the assumption that there’s something down there, something that’s not visible from the surface but would be visible with the help of an underwater craft, it’ll narrow down our search a great deal.” Rias tilted his head toward the overflowing shelves. “We’ll only need to look up the history of water exploration around the islands.”
“It’s as good of a starting point as any, I suppose. Those books will be in Old Kyattese.”
“I’ll stick to the maps.” Rias waved to the shelves, then paused and took a longer look. He rolled the ladder over and climbed up to a row of maps drawn on parchment, their edges yellowed and tattered with age.
“I’ll grab some of the old chronicles from the other room,” Tikaya said. “It’s always possible the ones I grew up reading contain revisionist history.”
Rias, perched on the ladder and already engrossed in a map he’d withdrawn, did not answer.
• • • • •
Tikaya yawned and glanced toward the shuttered windows. She didn’t think dawn lurked on the horizon, but she and Rias had been buried in their research for at least two hours. Perhaps because she’d found so little of interest, she’d been spending a lot of the time worrying that Yosis would wake up, notice Rias gone, and hasten in this direction with some draconian punishment in mind.
“I may have something,” Rias said. No fewer than twenty maps sprawled about him, some recent, some so old that the edges had crumbled when he opened them. “Your main island here has gained square footage over the decades, I assume due to the volcano’s continuing leakage of lava onto the sea floor. Following these maps—there was a new one done about every hundred years or so—you can see the gradually increasing footprint on the east side.”
“Yes, that’s a fairly well-known fact here.”
“What’s interesting is that these first three maps all have a basin delineated just north of the underwater lava flows. Here, next to this inlet.” Rias pointed to the same spot on different pages. “Then, four hundred years ago, the basin disappears from the maps. Not just one but all the subsequent ones.”
Tikaya removed her spectacles, rubbed gunk out of her eyes, and leaned close to examine the tiny underwater terrain lines. “It’s possible it was filled in. Every couple of generations the volcano gets frisky and spits out larger amounts of lava.”
“Frisky? Is that the geological term?”
“I’ve never had occasion to learn the Turgonian words related to volcanology. If you’d like to switch to Kyattese, I can be more precise.”
“Not necessary. It’s just that the word frisky brought other thoughts to my mind.” Rias wriggled his eyebrows.
Tikaya blushed, forgetting her weariness. “If we finish here, maybe there’ll be time for exploring those thoughts more thoroughly before you have to get back.”
“In that case, let us be most efficient in the study of these maps.”
Tikaya traced the basin on one of the older versions and eyed the legend. “That would be a big area for lava to have filled in without a major seismic event.”
“Deep too. Turgonian diving suits wouldn’t allow one to descend even halfway down to the bottom, if the basin still exists, that is.”
Tikaya scribbled the dates AC 374-469 on a scrap of paper, the years between the last map drawn with the basin and the first map drawn without it. “I’ll dig out a geology text and see if anything significant happened during that gap. Are there any other discrepancies?”
“Not that I found.”
“I don’t suppose you memorized the bathymetric maps your people took and could verify or disprove the accuracy of this one?” Tikaya tapped the 469 version.
“Sorry, my ancestors gave me a reasonably good memory, but not an eidetic one.”
“Ah, apologies. I sometimes expect too much of you.” Had she the energy, Tikaya would have laughed at his chagrinned
shoulder slump. He always seemed so disappointed when his education failed her in some way. She patted his arm to let him know she was teasing him. “We should leave before Yosis realizes you’re gone. I’ll head to the geology wing and grab a couple of books to take home. If that section isn’t closed for repairs too, that is.” In her wanderings around the Oceanography Wing, she hadn’t seen any problems that would have justified the locked door and sign. “Do you want to put those maps away and meet me at the door?”
“Cleaning up, is that one of the roles of assistants?”
“I don’t care what Grandpa says; Turgonians are faster learners.”
Rias snorted. “Take your time with the books. I want to copy this side of the island.”
“Planning your first trip already?” Tikaya asked lightly, though her colleague’s words came to mind. How many of her people would consider it treasonous of her to facilitate Rias’s acquisition of the bathymetric maps? But, assuming his story was true, the Turgonians already had this information—better information—so it shouldn’t matter.
“The craft will need a maiden voyage, and this isn’t that far from your harbor.”
Maiden voyage, sure. He wanted to know what was down there.
Tikaya had to admit that the strings of her curiosity were being plucked as well. Though they’d found nothing major, the small discrepancies were making her believe there was something to Rias’s hunches. She put away the books she’d looked at, and headed for the geology department, hoping to find a historical accounting of seismic activity on and near the Kyattese Islands. On a whim, she veered into the civil history room first. There hadn’t been newspapers back then, but the government had maintained annual journals, recording significant events. They were more political than geological, she was sure, but an earthquake or volcanic anomaly would have affected the populace and therefore been mentioned. When she located the appropriate date range on the shelves, she found herself staring at a gap in the middle. It was only a one-book gap, and she might have missed it if she hadn’t been perusing the years with intent, but 397 was gone. As a historical reference book, it shouldn’t have been checked out.
Tikaya lifted her lantern and gazed at nearby tables, thinking someone might have left it out, but they were all empty.
“All right, 397,” she murmured, “what happened to you?” Or, more specifically, what happened in that year that someone wanted forgotten?
Her mind filled with research ideas, histories of other fields that she could cross-check, but she’d been in the library too long already. Rias needed to get back, and he was probably waiting for her to finish before leaving. Besides, none of the other rooms was locked, so she could come back and investigate during the day.
Nodding to herself, Tikaya strode back to the bottom-floor door through which she’d entered. Rias wasn’t there.
“Still tracing?” She thought she’d been gone long enough for him to finish, and then some.
She returned to the stairs. A thump came from somewhere on the second floor. Worry knotted Tikaya’s gut and she broke into a run. Taking the stairs three at a time, she sprinted toward the Oceanography Wing. Rias had closed the door on his way out but not made it farther than that. He was curled on the floor, clenching his temples.
“Akahe curse that man,” Tikaya growled, knowing Yosis had to be responsible. She dropped her knapsack and raced to Rias’s side. “Rias?” she whispered. “Are you…?”
He gasped and shook his head so hard he almost clunked it on the floor. “Heard… cousin’s warning… too late. I can’t… block… it.” He clawed at his wrist.
Though her first instinct was to stay and help him somehow, the only way to stop his pain was to stop Yosis.
“Stay here,” she barked, though it was unnecessary. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Tikaya lunged to her feet and sprinted down the stairs. Rage fueled her, and she flew out the library door like a champion sprinter. Right away, she spotted the white-robed figure on the dark path nearby. Her vision narrowed to a black tunnel until she saw nothing but Yosis. His gaze was toward the second-story windows of the Oceanography Wing, and he didn’t see her coming. Good, Tikaya thought, the word a snarl in her mind, and she ran at him like an arrow loosed from a bow.
She smashed into him so hard, they both hit the ground and rolled several meters. Her battles at Rias’s side must have taught her something, for she came out on top, straddling Yosis. She smashed the heel of her palm into his face before he got his arms up in a semblance of a block. With anger and frustration still coursing through her veins, she simply aimed for a different target. She punched him in the gut numerous times before an indignant yell of, “Ms. Komitopis!” pierced her fury-clouded mind.
A moment later, someone grabbed her shoulders and hauled her off Yosis. Blood charged through her body, and she almost took a swing at this newcomer as well, but cold awareness cut through her rage. Striking one’s fellow citizens was illegal on the islands, and she had witnesses who had seen her beating up on Yosis. Lots of witnesses, she realized, as she peered about at policemen carrying lanterns along with a couple of government officials that she recognized from the war room. Their hair was tousled and clothes rumpled. One woman wore a bathrobe. Yosis must have sent out some sort of alarm when he woke to find Rias missing.
Several sets of eyes stared at Tikaya, some stern, some shocked, some outraged. Yosis staggered to his feet, one hand pressed against his abdomen, the other clutching his nose. Blood ran from one nostril and dripped down his arm. The lantern light shown brightly enough to reveal several droplets spattered on his white robes. Tikaya couldn’t bring herself to apologize.
“Ma’am?” the ranking policeman asked one of the officials. “Do we take her to—”
He broke off and cast an uneasy glance over Tikaya’s shoulder. Rias had come up behind her without a word or a sound. Blood trickled from the side of his eye and his ear, and Tikaya ground her teeth, not regretting her attack on Yosis for a second. If there weren’t policemen edging closer, she’d be tempted to punch him again.
Rias eyed the professor, but Tikaya couldn’t guess what was going through his mind. None of the rage she felt seemed to burn in his eyes. How could he be so calm?
“Take them both to jail.” Yosis had moved away from Tikaya and Rias and was standing—hiding—behind one of the patrollers. “You see what kind of animal she’s become under his influence?”
“His influence?” Rias asked mildly. “I haven’t pummeled anyone.” He rested his hand on Tikaya’s back and gave her a half smile. She blushed, though she had the impression he was pleased that she’d beaten up some fellow on his behalf.
“What were you doing in the library at night?” the ranking policeman asked.
Tikaya opened her mouth to proclaim that she was on the faculty and could visit the library any time she wished—no need to mention the second-floor lock picking, but Rias answered first. “Searching for a private spot. Between her family-filled home and the thin walls of the Pragmatic Mate, we’ve found it difficult to… visit with each other.”
Tikaya blushed harder. She could understand making up a story to cover their true interest, but she didn’t want all of these strangers imagining her… visiting.
“Are you telling me that you were using the library for some sort of… tryst?” the policeman demanded.
“We are both academically inclined,” Rias said. “And those posh reading chairs on the first floor are quite comfortable.”
That earned a round of glowers, and a lip curl from the official who was probably even then vowing to never read in those chairs again.
Tikaya nudged Rias with her elbow. “Stop helping,” she whispered. As it was, this news would likely spread all over town. If she was going to go visit Parkonis’s mother, she didn’t want the woman thinking she’d become the sort who… violated library reading chairs with men.
“Ma’am?” the policeman asked again.
“Though I’m inclined t
o have Ms. Komitopis put in jail,” the female official said, “her father would create a fuss over that. Take her home and leave someone to ensure she stays there. If Professor Yosis wishes to file a complaint of assault, we’ll have a judge attend to it.”
Stay at home? How was she supposed to find a power source for Rias if she had to stay at home?
“I want a full psychiatric evaluation done on her,” Yosis said.
Tikaya slumped. As satisfying as beating him into the ground had been, the repercussions were going to be unpleasant. She imagined a flock of telepaths descending on her home to “evaluate” her.
“And him?” the policeman asked.
“Yosis’s summons was heard,” the official said.
“What does that mean?” Rias murmured.
“I’m not sure,” Tikaya said.
“My colleagues are coming?” Yosis asked. “Excellent.”
“Reinforcements?” Rias guessed.
Something about the smug expression on Yosis’s battered face made her think it might be worse. A moment later, Yosis turned his head toward the street. A cluster of men and women in the white robes of the Practitioner School strode onto the Polytechnic campus. A pair of gold braids were sewn into the sleeves of each person, a couple of inches above the hem. Tikaya’s stomach sank. These were faculty members from the College of Telepaths.
The policemen stepped back, perhaps happy to hand the Rias problem off to someone else. The practitioners joined Yosis, bent their heads, and conferred for a moment before forming a line facing Tikaya and Rias.
“It is time to see why this enemy of our people is really here,” a white-haired telepath said.
Though Tikaya already stood in front of Rias, she eased over so she more fully blocked him from them. “What are you planning to do? He’s my guest here, and even if he weren’t, there are laws about using invasive mental techniques on people.”
Forgotten Ages (The Complete Series) Page 50