by T E Olivant
Maybe this was why I hadn’t been given a job as a Historian, I thought as I gazed unseeing at yet another string of characters that snaked its way across the monitor. Historians like my mother squirrelled facts away, sorted them, rated them and saved them for future generations. What they did not do was ask questions. It was the ‘where’ ‘when’ and ‘who’ that was important, not the ‘why’. But I just wasn’t built that way. I had asked my father once why the grey-haired man on the view screen got to be the Leader. Of course, as an adult that would be revolutionary talk, but my father beamed down at me, indulging his young daughter.
“There is a careful process of genetic determination that calculates which member of our people would be most suitable for the candidacy of leadership. The finalists then perform a variety of tasks, from which the person with the highest score is judged the Leader.”
“Not how, daddy, why? Why is he the leader?”
His face reddened, and he folded his arms in annoyance. This was not how it was meant to go.
“What do you mean Lisanne?” I should have known from his tone it was time to stop, but I couldn’t help it.
“Why is he chosen because of his genes, why not something else? And why do we have to have a leader anyway?”
By this point my father was already dragging me into my bedroom and my words had become a plaintive whine. I was left there to learn my lesson.
Well, the only lesson I had learnt was to keep the questions inside, not to stop asking them. And the red message had left me many more unanswered questions. I thought about my father’s disappointed face all those years ago as he shut the door and walked away. Perhaps it wasn’t worth looking for answers, but maybe this time I owed it to myself to try. And I knew just who to get to help me.
Sam had been back at work for a week before I managed to get him alone in a quiet corner while we were having our break. I kept my voice low as I told him about the message. I couldn’t help but feel a little excited telling him what I had seen – even though I was sure I could trust him, it was still taking a risk. One look in his bright, animated eyes told me that he was just as thrilled as I was.
“The thing is, Sam,” I said, my lips close to his ear, “I think I know what those numbers were.” I was a brilliant scholar after all, and it had come to me just a few hours after I read the message. “I think they’re co-ordinates.”
“Co-ordinates?” Sam frowned, and I felt a little smug as I leaned even closer, my voice barely audible.
“Old map positions. Do you remember how we looked at the old earth maps in Historical Geography? Well, that’s how they described where everything was. The numbers give a location horizontally and vertically.” I leaned back and folded my arms. Sam stared at me for a moment, and I felt warm from his attention.
“That’s… incredible.”
I shrugged, still smiling.
“But it doesn’t make sense. Why would there be a message about somewhere on a map? We don’t need a map for the city, so it must be somewhere out on the White.” His face was flushed, and his eyes darted around eagerly. “We need to know more. Where exactly were these co-ordinates referring too? And what is there?”
I felt my smile loosen a little. I hadn’t really thought much further – I had been pleased enough just to work out what the numbers meant.
“Well, there’s one way we can check,” Sam said after a few moments. “Get us in to your mother’s archive room and we can find out for ourselves.”
I grabbed the arm of the chair next to me, my body suddenly felt faint.
“No,” I said weakly, “that’s crazy, I just wanted to tell you about the message. There’s no need to take it any further.”
“Would you really be satisfied with that?” Sam’s face was etched with disappointment.
Yes, I thought. “No,” I said. I felt immediately sick, but something was whispering in my head saying that Sam was right. I wanted to find out more.
Chapter 4: Kyrk
“Keep hold of Jony’s hand,” I called to Mya as she whipped away from my grip while we dodged through the crowds. She scowled, but did it anyway, her eyes huge in her small face as she looked at all the strange people. Makeshift stalls were set up along the road to trade in anything you could wish for. I took the kids with me while I made a few trades of my own from the pack. Some antlers and skins I swapped for trade chits, and I refilled our water bags from another stall. I also sold some rarer items for a decent price. Maybe the Meet might turn out to be alright after all.
I heard a squeal from behind me and turned around just in time to see Mya disappear into the crowd. Jony caught my eye and we both bolted after her. I cursed out loud: she would be hard to spot. I dodged around men and women of all the different clans, stared into darkened tents and earnt myself some harsh words. As the minutes went on I started to grow frantic. Then I saw her, she had stopped at one of the stalls and was hugging someone’s legs. The person turned around and smiled at me.
“Hello Kyrk.”
The young Hunter woman wasn’t immediately beautiful. She was smaller than most hunters and her hair was longer and more unkempt, as if she had just stepped out of a storm. But she had bright, clever eyes and a mouth that always seemed about to burst into laughter.
“Hi Tyla.”
Mya saw my angry expression and hid behind Tyla’s legs. She knew she could avoid trouble if she stayed out of the way.
“It’s great to see you.” Tyla reached out her hand and Jony also went in for a shy hug. I stood to one side awkwardly.
“Jony, Mya, why don’t you have a look in the sweet stall over there.” I handed them a couple of chits to trade and they skipped away happily.
“I was so sorry to hear about your parents.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. Tyla had known my mother and father as well as anyone, so I knew she meant it. But then no one was sorrier than me, so I didn’t have much sympathy left to spread around.
Tyla put her hand on my shoulder and after a second I placed my hand over hers. I left it there just long enough to feel the heat from under her fur, then I gently pulled her hand away. She looked up at me, confused.
“I better go after the kids,” I said bluntly. She nodded and turned away. I knew she was hurt, but I couldn’t allow myself to become distracted. Last year I would have given anything for a moment with Tyla. This year I had more important things on my mind.
The children were still inside the tent so I sat down on the snow outside. I ran some of the soft flakes through my fingers. They were grubby and grey, dirtied by the crowds. I felt a hostility to the City that came from my Hunter’s bones. This was not the real White, open and free.
“Nice to see you son.” A kindly pair of eyes looked down at me from a massive shaggy face. Greyson was practically family and he pulled me into a giant bear hug that crushed my ribs a little.
“So sorry to hear about your parents.”
Would I have to have this conversation with everyone I met? I looked away from his tearful eyes. If I let myself see his hurt, it would only remind me of my own.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty rough for a while. We’re doing okay though.” Without looking at them I gestured to the two little ones behind me.
Greyson gave a snort and grabbed my arms, turning me around.
“They’re doing well at the moment that’s for sure!”
I looked back and stared at the kids in horror. Somehow, they had managed to find some kind of sticky sweet from one of the stalls. They were covered in the stuff from noses to chins and I frantically bent down to clean it off as Greyson chuckled low laughs behind me.
Jony looked at me sheepishly, sticky sauce already matting the fur on his hands and his face.
“What were you thinking?” I started angrily, then stopped as Mya held out her hand. In her sticky little paw was a sweet, saved for me. I laughed then too, the sound a little raw in my throat and swept them both into a hug. A timely reminder of what I was doing all this
for.
“You’ll be speaking tonight at the Clan Assembly?” Greyson asked bluntly once I had lowered the children back to the floor.
“Yes. Can I count on your support?”
“Of course,” he said, but I didn’t like the shifty expression on his face. “I’ll see you there.”
And with that he was gone, just another body in the crowd. I looked after him for a long moment, not daring to think what tonight might bring.
Whack! A large first slammed into my back. I had just sat down with the kids but I sprung up immediately. I turned around with fists raised and a low snarl. When I saw the small face and slim body before me I dropped my hands to my sides and laughed.
“One of these days I’m really going to thump you one.”
“Just testing those Hunter reflexes.”
Max was a Herder, a year or two younger than me. We first met years ago when his herd were being bothered by some White wolves. My parents had scared them off and we had been friends ever since.
“How are you doing?”
I sighed. Even Max had that pitying expression that I had come to hate.
“Well, it’s not been easy. But we’re getting on okay.”
“And you’re going to speak at the Hunter Assembly tonight?”
I nodded. Max shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Something was up. Max was normally hard to faze. Herding deer required a lot of patience; I had never seen him agitated before.
“I don’t know how it works with your lot, but listen, just be careful what you say about your parents.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Max looked around him and lowered his voice to a whisper. I almost laughed until I saw how serious he looked.
“Look, I don’t know what your parents were into, but there are rumours about them over at my place. Not good rumours, Kyrk.”
I felt heat spread across my face. My claws dug into my palms and I clenched my jaw.
“What exactly do you mean?”
Max cringed at my loud voice. He placed his hand on my chest and I calmed down a little.
“I’m not the enemy here Kyrk. There’s more going on than you know about. Just be careful.”
“I always am.”
“Look, why don’t I give you a break? I’ll take the kids to see the herd.”
I was about to retort that I didn’t need the help, but one look at Max’s face showed me he meant nothing but friendship.
“Yeah, thanks, they would love that. See you back here in an hour?”
While the kids were off to look at Max’s deer, I let my feet carry me wherever I felt like. Wandering without purpose for once was refreshing.
Max had been right, there was something strange about this Meet. At first, I thought the oddness was just me and my circumstances, the absence of the two figures that haunted the edge of my vision. But it was more than that. Everyone was just a little on edge, a little less friendly than last year. And what had Max meant about my parents?
I wondered what was going on. Hunters are generally the most solitary of the races, but I remembered that in the months before they died my parents had received more visitors than usual. I had resented that every time a shadowy figure turned up at the cave to seek shelter I would be shut away with the kids. My parents must have been trying to protect me.
I kicked a clump of snow. That had only made things worse. Now I was head of the family and I had no idea what was going on. They had caused me more trouble than they would have ever realised.
I passed a bar and saw two men squaring up to each other. This was nothing unusual in that, there was always a lot of moonshine about at the Meet and not all clans were good at holding their drink.
The small man was a Herder, with short claws, a shaggy beard and a dark pelt that mimicked the colour of a new-born deer. I stopped for a moment, surprised. Herders were not known as fighters, but he was standing on his toes and shouting at his opponent.
The other man was nearly twice his size. He was a Builder, nearly as broad across the shoulders as he was tall. He had his arms crossed but his eyes flashed with barely suppressed rage. I shook my head – the Herder was clearly going to lose.
“Get out of my way!” The Herder called bravely. The Builder laughed and shook his head. Just as a crowd began to gather the Herder threw a punch. It bounced off the Builder’s chest like a flake of snow. The Builder laughed, then struck out with one of his thick legs and swept the other man’s feet out from under him.
The Herder fell and gasped as the hard ground knocked the air from his chest. The Builder snorted and turned back to his drink, making a rude gesture at the other man. But the Herder was already getting back to his feet and the anger was steaming off him. The low sun glinted on something in the Farmer’s hand. A knife! He flung himself towards the Builder with a scream.
Two bodies barrelled into the Herder and knocked the weapon from his hand. It was two more Herders, taking down their own clansman.
“Not now, Elias,” one of them said in the enraged man’s ear, “not now.” The Builder looked at him in shock for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. The three men walked away into the market without a second glance. As if they shared the guilt, everyone watching quickly found something else to do.
I stood still long after the crowd had left. It wasn’t the fight that was unusual: the drink could do that to anyone. It was the speed of the interventions. As if people were worried what might happen if the fight had been allowed to continue. And since when had Herders carried knives?
Yes, I thought, people were worried, worried and afraid.
“Hurry or we’ll be late!” I said, one paw on each child’s shoulder as I pushed them forwards.
“I’m tired,” Mya moaned. I should never have let them go and see the herd with Max. They were tired and grubby from playing with the deer. And it was going to be a long evening.
I swept Mya up onto my shoulders when she nearly tripped over a stone on the path. Jony looked at my worried face and pushed his legs to walk faster.
“The gate’s about to close,” the guard said when we finally reached the Tyngvall.
I nodded and began the weary climb past him up the steps of ice. I had to stop every few steps to wait for Jony to catch up, but at least we had made it. With a final burst of effort we climbed up into the hall.
The Tyngvall was massive and eerie. It was a semi-circle so large that only the Builders knew how it had been made. The shape might have begun as a crater or a cleft in the rock. I couldn’t even imagine how long it must have taken to carve the stone benches and steps. Over the years the rock had been covered in snow that set to hard ice so that it glistened silver-grey like metal.
The grand chamber had space for tens of thousands of people. Now even with all the clans here we barely filled a third. Each family took its place within its clan, each clan in turn filling the seats allocated to them in their own arcane order. After the loss of my parents my little family had no ranking whatsoever, so I took the kids down to the end of a row near the back. We instinctively drew together, trying to make the room feel smaller, enjoying the comfort of warm bodies and fur.
Two Builders on the other side of the Tyngvall carried in an old woman on a stretcher. The ancient woman looked like she might die at any moment. But illness was no excuse for missing the Meet. The only people absent were the dead.
A commotion at the bottom of the amphitheatre drew my eyes. The room fell silent as the clan chiefs walked in together to take their places at the table. Seven leaders for seven clans. They were mainly old, both men and women. The only clan not represented was the Seekers. My father had told me once that the Seeker Chief had to remain impartial and so could take no part in politics, but I never really understood what that meant.
A man stood up at the centre of the table.
“Welcome to the Meet.” The Chieftain Dubh’s voice was powerful and carried around the Tyngvall with its natural sound-amplifying shape. The
clan Chiefs beside him started to applaud, and the audience did the same with a deafening rumble.
The Chieftain raised his arms for quiet. I could see the muscles in his shoulders; he had been born a Digger with that clan’s immense strength, although the years of being leader had whitened the fur on his face so that it seemed to hover above his dark body.
“We give thanks for your long journey and may you be granted a safe return home.”
I looked around the room. These were the same words spoken at the start of every Chieftain’s speech, the same formalities that had to be undertaken. I saw Tyla sitting just two rows above us. She caught my eye then turned away. I turned back into the speaker.
“This year we must remember that in our separate clans there is strength. In our difference there is survival. And we must learn not to take our lives here for granted.”
“Our first point of business is regarding the trades.”
“What about the wood prices?” a voice interrupted from the crowd, and there was an angry murmur of agreement. The man that stood up looked like a Builder and his question could only have been aimed at the Digger clan.
The Diggers were broader than they were tall. They were a small clan, but wealthy. Their job was one of the strangest on the White. They would dig down, under the ice and snow and bring up anything they found that might be of use. Metal ore taken from stone was expensive and hard to work. But just as vital was the wood, carved from the frozen forests that have lain buried for hundreds of years. No wonder they had to be so strong.
The Diggers could pretty much charge what they liked for the wood they dug up, and I had heard even my father, normally a calm man, curse at them when they raised their prices.
The Digger Chief shrugged from his position at the table. “We will do our best, if the weather improves, to get more stock for trade.” He called, raising his voice over the others. “We hope to bring the prices back down again soon.”