Seeds of Earth

by Michael Cobley

  were taken.' He hesitated. 'How about you? You look

  pretty much the same, apart from needing a couple of

  days' sleep, maybe.'

  A look of amusement softened the Uvovo's weary,

  strung-out expression. 'Yes, the husking did not pro-

  ceed quite as I or anyone else expected. Yet it has left its

  mark ...' Chel paused as one of his cowled companions

  signed to him; he nodded and continued. 'Gregori,

  regretfully we must resume our talking later - I have a

  very important forgathering to attend.'

  i understand - I look forward to hearing about your

  travels.'

  i promise I will explain what I can,' Chel said cryp-

  tically. 'Till then.'

  For the next three hours or more Greg went over a

  bundle of field reports filed by teams of Uvovo scholars

  who had been surveying the valleys northwest of the

  Kentigerns. Periodically he had to go over to the large

  eco-samples hut to examine this or that specimen - he

  would have asked the reports' authors but they were

  attending the conclave of this Artificer Uvovo. As he

  shuttled back and forth he could see that the numbers

  were growing steadily as newcomers arrived via the

  densely forested ridges rising to the west. There seemed

  to be a lot of discussion, groups walking to and fro,

  lone speakers addressing small crowds, knots of Uvovo

  milling about. Fortunately the weather was mostly dry,

  with just one light passing shower which freshened the

  air and made everything gleam in the cloud-fractured

  sunlight that followed.

  At last a young, wide-eyed Uvovo brought a message

  from Chel asking Greg to meet him in the excavated

  area known as the Stairwell in half an hour. He spent the

  time eating a snack of baroham and gramato sand-

  wiches while catching up on the news headlines on the

  radio, then, with minutes still to spare, he decided to

  head over anyway.

  The Stairwell was a perfect example of the problems

  inherent in excavating Giant's Shoulder. It did have

  some stairs, two flights descending beneath the flag-

  stoned expanse, but after that further steps had been

  improvised out of broken masonry uncovered by earlier

  explorers during their excavations. However, due to the

  unstable, cavity-riddled nature of the interior, those pio-

  neers found that the baulk sides of their digs quickly

  became prone to serious collapse the deeper they went.

  After several cave-ins and one fatality a couple of

  decades ago, the bottom ten metres of the twenty-metre

  hole were filled in and planked over. Further investiga-

  tion was restricted to stratification studies and a few

  cautiously shallow side trenches.

  Chel was already there when he arrived, seated on a

  bench in one of the older side trenches, just out of the

  fitful sunlight. He raised a hand in greeting as Greg

  descended the few steps and joined him on the bench.

  'Chel, I could say that you're looking great,' he said.

  'But that wouldn't, strictly speaking, be true.'

  'The truth, friend Gregori, is that I feel worse than I

  look,' the Uvovo said with a tired smile.

  'Was your gathering a success?'

  in the end, yes. There was much doubt to overcome,

  and more distrust and pessimism than I anticipated.' He

  gazed up at the ragged clouds. 'They were expecting a

  fully-fledged Listener but instead they got... something

  else.'

  Turning to face Greg, he launched into an account of

  his visit to the daughter-forest Tapiola. Greg listened

  intently, fascinated at first by the husking ritual and

  ensuing hallucinatory trance. But when he spoke of

  having visions of the past and hearing the voice of

  Segrana in his head, Greg began to wonder if the drug

  had affected his mind - Chel seemed convinced that

  these experiences were not fanciful creations of his mind

  but came from outside, from Segrana.

  Chel paused and regarded him a moment. 'Earlier,

  many of my brothers and sisters thought that part of me

  was still in thrall to the husking sap - do you think that

  I have lost my reason?'

  'You seem quite rational, Chel - I'd be reluctant to

  judge until you've finished your tale. What happened to

  you in there? Why didn't you turn into a Listener?'

  Chel gave him a considering smile. 'Because I became

  something else.'

  He pushed back his cowl, reached up to untie the

  dark grey bandage and lifted it away.

  Greg stared, open-mouthed, at the row of four closed

  eyes on Chel's forehead. As he watched the outer pair

  fluttered open while Chel kept his own, original pair

  tightly shut, along with the centre pair. The new eyes

  swivelled to look at Greg, who smiled uncertainly.

  'What do you see?'

  The eyes looked around the shallow trench, its slop-

  ing sides of compacted soil and masonry debris, then up

  to the sky for a moment of searching before gazing

  down at the Stairwell and its gloomy depths.

  i see Umara's hidden face,' Chel murmured. 'I can

  see glimpses of lost and forgotten histories. That block

  for example—' He pointed to an irregular piece of stone

  with a smooth outward surface,'—was once part of an

  archway, and that one just along from it was part of a

  supporting wall. Or I can look at your face, Gregori,

  and see your mother and father, very clearly . . . and

  also a thin-faced man with an ear missing, and a woman

  with long black hair and a white streak through .. .'

  Greg could suddenly feel his heart pounding. 'My

  grandfather Fingal was a hunter who lost an ear to a

  GREG

  cragwolf, and the woman with the white in her hair can

  only be my great-grandmother Moira - Chel, how . ..'

  The Uvovo regarded him with those eyes, their dark-

  ness a mingled hue of brown and green. 'Segrana's gift,

  with which to carry out Segrana's work.'

  Greg could not help noticing the undertone of resent-

  ment in Chel's voice, but now that the initial shock was

  past his mind was focused on the Uvovo's new abilities

  and what they implied.

  'And the other eyes,' he said. 'What do they do?'

  i am not entirely certain,' Chel said, replacing the

  strip of cloth then opening his ordinary eyes, i have not

  yet learned how to interpret what they show me - some-

  times it is as if I can see a kind of language underpinning

  things around me, then if I look at symbols or written

  words or even pictures it feels as though part of my

  mind is trying to wrench a different kind of meaning

  from them.'

  'Are all these eyes meant to work together, perhaps?'

  Chel gave a bleak smile, i have attempted that -

  once. The effect is ... hard to describe, as if my head is

  filled with a thousand arguments except that it is not

  voices that war with each other but meanings! When I

  came out - crawled out of the vodrun I really thought
/>   that my mind was going insane, like a storm flooding

  and tearing apart a town, a city, while all I could do was

  watch the destruction from a nearby hill. If Listener

  Eshlo had not acted to cover these eyes ...' He left the

  sentence unfinished.

  Could it really be true? Greg wondered. Is Segrana

  actually an aware entity, some kind of distributed sen-

  tience capable of radically altering individual Uvovo}

  He had never heard of any Uvovo being born with extra

  eyes, yet here they were before him, which suggested

  that they had to be part of Uvovo DNA. Which also

  begged the question, were these characteristics the result

  of survival adaptation or of genetic engineering?

  'Chel, have you looked at any Uvovo carvings or

  symbols with the outer pair?'

  'A few times,' Chel said.

  'Did any appear unusual?' he said, adding, 'but in a

  rational way?'

  in Tapiola there are several ground dwellings and

  the one where I recuperated is decorated with a number

  of meditation pieces, wooden figurines and tablets. One

  bore the symbol hmul, meaning "release of burdens",

  but when I opened these eyes it became a word -

  elishum, meaning "work of calmness".'

  Greg nodded, his smile growing as facts fitted together.

  'Chel, my friend, I think you might be able to help me

  solve a little problem.' Then he told the Uvovo about his

  encounter with the Heracles's xeno-specialist, Lavelle,

  and took him over to his hut to show him the scan print-

  outs of Giant's Shoulder. As Chel stared at the images by

  the light of a desk lamp, Greg went on to tell of his mid-

  night expedition, the strange passage and the pillar traps

  blocking the way. The pictures he took down there had

  turned out slightly distorted or blurred but he showed

  them to Chel anyway. Chel studied the pictures closely

  then shook his head.

  i cannot make out these symbols, Gregori.'

  Greg grinned. 'Would you like to go and look at the

  real thing? Now?'

  Chel needed little persuading. Half an hour later, with

  the help once more of the Uvovo scholars Teso and

  Kolum, they were lowered down the south face of

  Giant's Shoulder, first Greg then Chel, entering this time

  through the creeper-curtained opening. Equipped with a

  torch each, they ventured into the cold, dark passage.

  Chel stared about him at the eye-motif carvings on the

  walls but made no comment, just nodded thoughtfully.

  Greg slowed as they approached the pillars.

  'Be ready for when the symbols appear,' he said.

  'When that countdown starts it goes by very quickly.'

  'Very well, Gregori, as you wish,' Chel said, removing

  the headband and opening those strange eyes. Then he

  walked the final few paces, bringing him right next to

  the row of square pillars. He looked them over carefully

  while Greg watched, tense and edgy, and they both

  waited. Five minutes went by without incident then five

  more. Chel looked questioningly at Greg, who shrugged.

  'Friend Gregori, did you not say that you touched the

  pillar while examining it?'

  'Well, when I touched ... I suppose you could say it

  was a bit of a shove ...'

  Chel nodded and gave the nearest pillar a firm push.

  There was no give to it but almost immediately four

  familiar, glowing symbols appeared on the middle pillar.

  Chel saw them, gasped and staggered back a step and

  shook his head, as if dizzy.

  'Are you okay?' Greg said.

  Chel glanced at him with his ordinary eyes while

  keeping the new ones focused on the pillar. 'No cause

  for alarm, friend Gregori. Every time I need to adjust a

  little ... ah now ...'

  Leaning closer, the Uvovo examined the four intricate

  symbols, just as a column of glowing triangles appeared

  on the adjacent pillar.

  'And that right there is your countdown, Chel,' he

  said but the Uvovo waved him into silence, his stance

  almost that of someone who was listening intently. After

  a moment or two of standing stock-still he suddenly

  straightened, his small, neat features creased by a smile,

  then he sang a sequence of syllables in a clear, loud

  voice. There was a grinding sound, deep vibrations from

  above, and trickles of fine dust fell as the double row of

  pillars ascended into the ceiling. Beyond it, Greg could

  see by torchlight the previous ones and another three

  sets after that also rising.

  'That,' he said, 'was well done.'

  Chel was gazing up at the pillar ends, resting flush

  against the plain, unadorned stone ceiling. 'At first I

  thought the celfs - the symbols - were showing me

  words but when I looked deeper at each one I heard

  musical notes which I sang in the order of the words

  and ...' He gestured at the now-open corridor.

  if only Cat was here to see this,' Greg said, laughing.

  'Right, let's see what's along there.'

  'Tread carefully, Gregori,' said Chel. 'There may be

  other tests.'

  Twenty paces on, the passageway turned a corner

  and steps went down to a chamber where four columns

  stood in a group before three stone doors in a curved

  wall. The room was icy-cold - it was like walking into a

  storage freezer. Greg shivered, his breath pluming like

  silver fog in the torchlight as he went up to the door on

  the left. Before he could get near it, though, Chel said:

  'Gregori, wait, don't touch it! There is danger in this

  room, another test to overcome. These columns .. .' The

  Uvovo reached out to one, grazed it with his fingertips

  and snatched them back. 'Very cold, sharp as talons,

  and something else . . .'

  Greg stood back from the stone door, and moved his

  torch beam up the heavy frame and across the lintel and

  the wall above, illuminating panels of relief carvings of

  forest imagery alive with creatures of every kind, includ-

  ing Uvovo. Then he noticed something in the wider cone

  of torchlight, a circular, seemingly blank panel amid the

  carven foliage, and when he turned the torch rightwards

  he saw others.

  'Chel - look.'

  The Uvovo turned to see, adding his own torch beam

  to Greg's as he examined the discs, standing motionless

  with only his strange eyes staring. After several moments

  he let out a long sigh, bowed his head and muttered

  something in the Uvovo tongue. When he looked up

  again his original eyes were open as well and full of a

  dark, relentless concentration. The light from his torch

  trembled on the wall and Greg didn't know whether to

  speak or keep silent. Then Chel drew in a shuddering

  breath as he turned away, all eyes closed, shining torch

  dangling from his waist.

  it says, "Choose Your Path To Death".'

  'How cheery,' Greg said.

  'But in the Iterants of the Eternal it says that all paths

  lead to death and all deaths lead to the Eternal ... so
<
br />   why three doors?' The new eyes were closed but his

  own glinted in the torchlight. 'And why four pillars?' He

  approached the nearest, aiming his torch at it as he

  placed his empty hand against it.

  'Careful, Chel,' said Greg. 'Frostbite.'

  i can resist it for a short while, Gregori. There is

  something strange about these pillars . . . could you

  shine your torch here a moment - thank you.' Under the

  combined light, Greg could see that the column had a

  slightly slick, dull sheen. Chel shook his head. 'This is

  not stone. Like the ones out in the corridor it signifies

  something but I cannot see it. . . with these or these.' He

  indicated his normal eyes then the new outer pair.

  'What about the other ones?' Greg said.

  Still looking at the pillar, the Uvovo said, 'Are you

  asking me to risk my sanity, Gregori?'

  i could never do that, Chel,' he said, if the risk for

  you is too great, then we'll go back up top and see if

  there's another way to solve this - your call.'

  CheL smiled. 'There is risk, certainly, but as I now

  have a responsibility to the Artificer Uvovo I must inves-

  tigate this mystery with all of my abilities. Otherwise I

  would not be worthy of Segrana's gifts and purpose.'

  He closed all his eyes and stood there for a moment,

  head slightly bowed. Then he straightened suddenly and

  on his brow the centre pair of eyes snapped open,

  glanced very briefly at Greg, then stared at the pillar

  before him. Greg looked on, trying not to think about

  the cold, pitiless volition he glimpsed in those eyes for an

  instant.

  Chel's gaze seemed to bore into that column.

  Occasionally he flinched, a slight twitch of the head,

  and his lips began to move soundlessly. Then without

  warning he stepped away and went over to the next

  pillar, his features fixed in a wide-eyed grimace. After

  some moments he proceeded to the next and finally to

  the last. When he retreated from it his eyes were all

  tightly closed and his face was a mask of pain. As he fell

  to his knees, Greg lunged forward to slow his fall, help-

  ing him to rest on his side; the hand he had used to

  touch the pillars was cradled by the other, and when

  Greg reached out to the wrist he felt shockingly stone-

  cold flesh.

  Guilt washed over him. God, what have I done}

  'The test demands . . . demands the correct path to