“Ro, tomorrow morning I want you to ask Ty to show you how the subspace link at the house works. It’s about time you learned your line. Before you can learn it, you must assemble the information.” Without waiting for an answer, he returns to reading.
I see the warden, feel the irritation at being told what to do without being asked or even told why. I smile as I acknowledge the human’s wisdom in providing a talma along which childish retribution may be exacted. I close my eyes, settle into the chair before the fire wrapped in my warm cloak, and say, “Sleep in peace, Uncle Willy.”
SIXTEEN
The next morning, after a peculiar breakfast of root cakes and roast snake in the cave, Davidge returns to the manuscript, Haesni washes the shells and griddle, and I make my way to the estate, the day warm enough that I can walk the path without fear of my eyeballs shattering. From the ice-sheathed trees and rocks, I can see meltwater dripping.
Later, in Ty’s office, I sit facing the screen of the link. Jeriba Ty establishes contact with the Talman Kovah on Draco, runs the line probe, explains the controls, and says to call when I have completed entering what I can. Ty leaves and I enter the information for which the line probe asks.
My own name is Yazi Ro. My parent’s name was Yazi Avo. I know from what my parent told me of its parent that its name was Yazi Tahl. Tahl’s parent was named Itas, although I am uncertain of the spelling. If I ever knew the name of my nameparent’s child, it has left my memory. I have no choice but to leave the five-name sequence incomplete.
The line location, what I know of it, is on Amadeen, Northern Shorda, City of Gitoh. The occupations of myself and my forebears, those that I know of: Yazi Ro, Mavedah soldier; Yazi Avo, with its crippled foot, did whatever it could find to provide food and shelter for its infant child. Mostly it taught battlefield English to Mavedah soldiers; Yazi Tahl, another Mavedah soldier; Yazi Itas, I do not know, and there it ends. I call for Jeriba Ty and in moments it is there reviewing the information.
After reading it, Ty looks down at me and places a hand on my shoulder. It must have been very difficult growing up without the knowledge of your line.”
I am confused by my host’s pity. “I do not know, Jeriba Ty. I have nothing with which to compare it.” I point at the screen. “Is that enough information ?”
“It is all we have,” Ty answers as it reaches forward and touches the screen which changes immediately to the main catalog.
“How long will it take?”
Ty opens its mouth to answer, but before a word escapes, the results of the line probe appear. I nod my thanks to Jeriba Ty and sit back to discover part of myself.
The data links from Amadeen were cut off when the quarantine isolated Amadeen from the quadrant. There is, nevertheless, only one line on Amadeen whose names fit the sequence I entered. The full sequence is: Ro, Tomas, Itah, Tahl, Avo. There is a message to note the difference in the spelling of the center sequence name. The original line archives were registered in Gitoh.
I find that I had a nameparent, and my nameparent had a nameparent. Yazi Ro, third child of Stiyima Bahn of Aakva Benabi on Draco, left its home to found its new line on Amadeen years before the war. The founder was an explorer and entrepreneur who became partners in a business venture with a human named Tomas Muñoz. The Drac and the human began providing food and other supplies to the prospectors in the mountains above Gitoh. The business was prosperous, and the pair expanded their activities into various other retail enterprises.
When Yazi Ro had its first child, the founder named its child for its partner, Tomas. In turn, Tomas Muñoz named his new son Ro. The two children grew together until Tomas was no longer a child. Yazi Tomas maintained a close friendship with Ro Muñoz, though, until the war started on Amadeen. No one seems to know why it started, or how. Something about land and an unjust decision made by some court. The only thing certain was that members of the other species were responsible. The Yazi-Muñoz business venture struggled along for another year, but it eventually was consumed by the widening war. The partnership ended along with the friendship when Ro Muñoz was slain by an angry mob of Drac miners and Tomas Muñoz returned to Earth.
Yazi Tomas attempted to keep a much smaller foodstuff supply business going by itself, but war respects no contracts and soon Tomas was pressed into service by the newly organized Shorda Continental Defense Force, which later changed its name to the Mavedah. Tomas’s only child, Itah, went directly into the Mavedah, as did its child, Tahl. As my parent’s nameparent was born, the quarantine was placed on Amadeen, and there the information ends, The cycle of names is there, though, and the probe fills in the missing names. I am the eleventh of my line. If I should ever conceive, my child would carry this human’s name: Tomas.
“Ro, did your parent ever tell you about this Tomas Muñoz, and about their business?”
I glance at Ty, only part of my mind on its question. “I do not remember. I was so young when Avo was killed. I may have been told, but I do not remember.”
“You have an information notice aid. May I see what it is?”
I look and there is a spot on the screen blinking between white and blue. I get up from the link and go to the office’s window wall as Jeriba Ty sits before the link and gives the probe some new instructions. The window looks out upon a distant chain of mountains, the tops black with cliffs too steep to hold ice or snow. My eyes see the mountains but my mind is on Amadeen and a time when a Drac and a human could become business partners and name their children after each other. How did we move from such a place to Douglasville where that man, that human, took its captured energy knife and cut poor Lota Min into screaming pieces?
The wounds on Amadeen are so many, so deep, so ghastly, how can there be an end to it? How can we live in a world where we cannot kill humans, where there is nothing left to do but feel the pain of our many losses while staring at the shattered remains of so many futures?
“Yazi Ro, do you know a human named Michael Hill?”
My thoughts touch the passenger lounge of the Venture and the man who told me about the danger of looking at the stars alone. “I met him on the ship.” I turn to face Ty. “He is a representative for Earth IMPEX.”
Jeriba Ty is frowning as it looks at the screen. “It seems that Michael Hill is very interested in anyone carrying the line name of Yazi.” Ty shakes a finger at the screen and says, “More specifically, he’s interested in anyone who has an interest in a Yazi line name. Hill has entered an automatic call request that his message station be notified of the names of everyone who does a probe on any of the Yazi lines.”
I turn from the window and face Ty. “I don’t understand.”
“What it amounts to is that this man wants to know if anyone, most likely you, did a probe on the Yazi line name.”
“Is there some way to hide my inquiry?”
Ty shakes its head. “No. All of this―the line histories, the names of those who file requests―is public information. Michael Hill has already been notified that you did a probe on your line. Might he be a danger?”
I lower myself into a chair facing Ty. “Your parent said that it has done business with Michael Hill for years. Zammis said that Hill is well respected.”
“Perhaps it’s just curiosity concerning a chance encounter on board a ship.”
I think back and recall that face in my mind. For a human it is a handsome, pleasant face. Honest, hiding nothing. Perhaps it is just curiosity. Those who travel far from home may need things with which to occupy their time. Still, the man might be the descendant of someone in the Amadeen Front or the USE Force who thinks he has a debt to collect against Dracs of the Yazi line. He was on Draco at the same time I was. Perhaps Michael Hill has some interest in the Jetai Diea’s charge that sent me on my mission to Friendship.
“Does Hill know where I am staying? Is that information public, as well?”
“It’s not public information, Ro, but having Jeriba Zammis pick you up at the port effectively announ
ced to the entire population of First Colony where you are staying. With your permission, I will have my parent look into the matter of Michael Hill.” Ty looks up at me and smiles as it hands me a copy of my line probe. “If Uncle had you learn your line, the next thing he’ll want is for you to memorize it. Then The Talman. Before he’s finished he will have you in front of your line’s archives reciting line and book.”
In my rooms I look at the copy of my line. Eleven names is all. If I had been born into the Jeriba line I would have had to memorize over two hundred histories, as well as The Talman. What a fantasy it is: Yazi Ro, filled with knowledge, reciting line and book in front of the Yazi Archives, my human Jetah standing with me as I receive the belated robes of adulthood.
My line is missing a few histories, though; the Yazi archives are smashed and in Front-controlled territory on Amadeen, while my Jetah, Uncle Willy, is safe in his cave beneath Friendship’s protective clouds. Still it is a nice fantasy. I take the paper and read from it, my tongue wrestling around the ancient, unfamiliar sounds of formal Dracon.
Before you here I stand, Ro of the line of Yazi, born of Avo, the teacher of English…
I stop as I realize the hopelessness of it all. I do not know if Avo itself stood the rites, and if so, when. There is so much missing. A great weariness fills me and I lie on the bed, close my eyes, and, just before I search my usual nightmares, I see Estone Falna as it was at the repast, strong, witty, smart, full of fun. A longing begins in me that I extinguish as soon as I know what it is, because it can never be.
…I hear a dog. The night is cold, Amadeen’s moon huge and bright in the sky. The dog is whimpering, begging for an end to its pain. Except for the dog, it is quiet, the fighting and bombing at an end for now. Inside the bombed-out structure, Avo is sitting in a shadow looking across the street, its eyes wet with tears.
“Avo?” I call from its side where I have been trying to sleep. “Avo, what is wrong? Are they coming again?”
“No, child. They are gone for now.”
I reach up and touch my parent’s cheek. “Why do you cry?”
Avo nods at the ruins across the street. “Do you remember the building that once stood there?”
“No.”
“You were just born, I suppose, when it was last used. The Mavedah stored supplies there until the building was destroyed completely by a Front bombing. Before that, when I was a child, it was a hospital.” Avo looks down at me. “My parent once told me that very long ago, before the war, your nameparent’s nameparent had a business there where it sold food and many other things.”
My parent returns its gaze to the ruin. “Yazi Tahl told me that Dracs and humans both shopped there, and that your nameparent’s nameparent even worked with a human in the business.” Its head lowers until Avo’s chin rests on its chest. “I don’t know if I believe that,” it says, “though I always thought of this building with a special warmth, until it was destroyed. Now it makes me sad.”
I do not know why Avo cries. It is, after all, just a pile of rubble. I wrap my arms around my parent and urge it to stop crying. Avo places an arm around me and continues to look at the ruin. It still looks as I close my eyes. The dog is silent and I sleep.
SEVENTEEN
I awaken with an acrid smell of smoke in my nostrils. At the moment I realize the smell is no dream I sit up and open my eyes. Davidge is sitting in a chair in front of the window wall, looking at the view. The smoky smell comes from his clothes. I stand and walk toward him. As I do I see the sight that holds the human’s attention. Great streams of black smoke come from the point, blown back toward the mountains by the winds.
“Davidge?”
He turns his head and faces me. His skin is smudged with soot, soot rings his nostrils, and his eyes are very red. “You’re awake,”
“Obviously.” I point toward the smoke. “What happened?”
The human looks back toward the point, his eyes on the past. “Someone came into the cave last night and set fire to the place. I was in the back getting something to eat.” He seems to nibble at the insides of his lips as tension makes his jaw muscles pulse. “When I came back to the main chamber, I saw him. A fire was already started in the woodpile and he was tinkering at some sort of device. I picked up a piece of wood and came up on him from behind. He turned just before I struck and I caught his head and an arm. Whatever kind of bomb he set fully ignited then and filled the cave with smoke and intense heat. The man got away from me and all I could think of was making sure that Haesni was safe.”
“Is Haesni safe?”
“Yes. A sore throat from the smoke, scared, but other than that, okay.” Davidge stands and faces me. “Haesni was in the back chamber. We had to cover our eyes and feel our way through the main chamber, the smoke was so thick. Once we made it out of the mouth of the cave we came to the house.” He looks around at the room and says more to himself than to me, “After all these years, they’re finally going to get me to sleep in the house.”
“Was there any sign of the intruder?”
Davidge nodded. “Ty had the retainers arm themselves and search for the fire bug. They were at it for the rest of the night. At first light Alri Gan found the bastard at the bottom of the cliff below the cave entrance. Looks like he didn’t quite make that first turn.”
Davidge narrows his eyes and studies me. “Ty, Zammis, and I climbed down to the base of the cliff to look. Jeriba Zammis knows the dead man. Before he splashed on the rocks, he called himself Michael Hill.”
I feel my eyes widening at the name. “The man I met on the ship? The IMPEX representative?”
“Yes. Ty told me about your experience; also about Hill’s interest in your line probe. You have any idea why he might want to kill me or Haesni?”
I remember the stars, that face, the compassion in his voice. That strange joke: If you want to hear God laugh, make a plan. I think back and remember the cliff, the height of it, the broken boulders at its foot. Michael Hill had a long opportunity of understanding before he reached those water-washed boulders.
I have seen my enemies come at me many ways, everything from shooting to begging. Compassion is an unexpected stratagem.
“Davidge, on the ship from the Amadeen orbiter it was not a closely held secret that I was smuggled off Amadeen. On Draco, almost the entire Jetai Diea knew I was Mavedah, as well as an unknown number of clerks, masters, and others.” I look down as I think about the man in the wheelchair. Matope. Something mean and bitter crawls into my heart. “Perhaps still others.”
Davidge nods. “So he learns you’re coming here.”
“He might be someone with a hatred. Perhaps an ancestor or loved one might have died on Amadeen,”
“That explains why he might want to kill you. Why me or Haesni?”
I look to see if he is joking. “To such a person, Davidge, a Drac is a Drac,” I nod toward the human. “And a Dragger suck is a Dragger suck.”
The human’s eyes grow wide and he laughs. “Ro, Dragger suck is old-fashioned, obsolete. According to Falna, the modern term is symp.”
“Symp?”
“Short for sympathizer, I think. Maybe it’s short for simpleton.” He shakes his head and turns back to the window. “It just doesn’t wash, Ro. Zammis has known Hill for years; worked with him, introduced him to others. Michael Hill has been working with Dracs for an awfully long time. Is it possible that you’re the first Drac Amadeen veteran he’s ever run across?”
I think of Aureah Vak, pilot of the Tora Soam. As well there is Koboc, the Tsien Denvedah veteran who lives with Matope. There are millions of Dracs who fought on Amadeen, old but still alive. “No, Davidge, it is not likely that I am Michael Hill’s first.”
I reach out my hand and place it on the human’s shoulder as a theme from the Koda Nusinda teases the back of my head. “Davidge, the Ovjetah considers you and me to be pieces to a very important puzzle. Perhaps the puzzle cannot be solved if either of us is removed.”
The
human’s face wrinkles in confusion. “What does IMPEX have to gain in keeping the war going? Do you have any idea of the investment―” As Davidge curs himself off, his confusion fades. “The Koda Nusinda. The Eyes of Joanne Nicole.”
“Yes. The Timans. Do you think the Timan species is still attempting to manipulate events?”
“If it’s true, they’re taking the possibility for peace on Amadeen whole lot more seriously than we do.”
I rub my eyes and look at the smoke from the cave hanging in the air as the winds shift. “I thought Timan tampering in USE-Dracon relations ended with the death of the war’s secret architect, Hissied ‘do Timan.”
“So did the author of the Koda Nusinda. I don’t know why it would, though. If I read that manuscript right, manipulating other species toward self destruction wasn’t just Hissied ‘do Timan’s hobby. It’s a survival mechanism―instinct with the Timans―the entire species.” The human scratches his beard.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Yazi Ro, maybe the key to stopping the war on Amadeen is in somebody’s ammonia-soaked hand on Planet Timan.” His eyebrows rise. “You don’t suppose that’s where the Ovjetah’s talma is supposed to go?”
“As I understand this most recent book of The Talman, Davidge, if the Timans are involved, they are operating their own talma. I do not know which talma we would be serving by going to Timan. Perhaps the Timan path encloses the Ovjetah’s.”
Davidge folds his arms and frowns at the thinning smoke. “I need to get on the link and talk to Shiggy about this. If we go to Timan and it’s a wrong turn, it’ll be a helluva big one.”
Enemy Papers Page 49