much to do. Look, thanks for letting me know - could
you pass that on to the other teams, tell them to get
ready?'
As the intern headed off, Greg looked at his uncle,
black suspicion in his thoughts.
'If this has anything to do with you,' he said, Lyou
should tell me now.'
Theo sighed, then beckoned forward the man in the
long robe, who had been hanging back.
'Greg, let me introduce you to the Earthsphere
ambassador to Darien, Robert Horst. Mr Horst, this is
my nephew, Gregory Cameron.'
Up close he recognised the grey-haired man from the
news reports, while feeling a slight sense of unreality as
he shook his hand.
'So, er, Mr Horst, what do the Brolturans want with
you?'
The ambassador looked tired and haggard yet he
managed a smile. 'Mr Cameron, I assure you that I had
nothing to do with the murders at the airport yesterday,
or any other terrorist acts. I was there, I saw it, I could
have been killed myself! . . .' Horst's anger ebbed as
quickly as it had surged. 'The Brolturans usually do
what the Hegemony tells them, so Ihave to assume that
it is all Kuros's doing. Mr Cameron, until I can make
contact with the captain of the Heracles I must appeal to
you and Major Karlsson and his friends for help. I have
no wish to end up in a Brolturan interrogation cham-
ber!'
'Greg, those Brolturans will be here soon,' Theo said.
'We need to find somewhere safe to hide, like in the
forest back there. Are there any caves up behind that
ridge?'
'I don't know, I think so,' said Greg. 'Some of the
Uvovo scholars would know, but it would take time to
reach the nearest, and wouldn't these troops have some
kind of nightvision tracking technology?'
Theo nodded. 'They're bound to.'
Greg ran a hand through his hair. 'Right. Fine. Then
there's only one place you can go - follow me.'
Once everyone was down in the entrance corridor, he
told the Uvovo scholars Teso and Kolum (whom he had
woken earlier) to dismantle the winch and the canopy
and stow them in the storage hut. They were then to
reassemble them about an hour after the intruders had
left. As he watched the empty body harnesses rise up
and out of sight, he muttered a prayer that his instruc-
tions had been clear enough, then turned to take stock
of the situation. At least everyone had a blanket, and
there was a satchel filled with whatever food had been
in his cupboard, along with a couple of hand torches.
Which should keep them from getting too cold and
hungry for a while.
'Never heard o' this place,' Rory said, glancing
around. 'You scientists been keepin' it secret, aye?'
'Didn't know about it myself until a coupla days ago,
Rory,' he said, and launched into a brief summary while
omitting the bit about it having been built as a weapon,
as well as any mention of an ancient, intelligent
guardian, not wanting to have to deal with alarm, much
less disbelief. His audience was nevertheless silently
astonished as they followed him along the corridor and
down into the icy room of pillars.
'This is incredible,' Ambassador Horst said, peering by
torchlight at the carved walls. 'Could this be the work of
the Forerunners?'
'Going by Uvovo histories and the few datings I've
done so far, the time period seems to be about 100,000
years ago,' Greg said. 'Which apparently puts it near the
end of the Forerunner era, going by what I've learned
from offworld sources. But if you come through here
you'll see the main attraction . . .'
Warming to his tourist-guide role, he led them into
the well chamber, torchbeams lighting the way through
the heavy, cold darkness. Two figures were visible off
around the boundary wall, Chel and Weynl huddled
over something in the lamplight. Then one of them must
have heard the clatter of footsteps, straightened and
looked round. Greg waved and the Uvovo stood and
started towards them. As he drew near Greg saw it was
Chel.
'It is a remarkable edifice,' Horst said, approaching
the boundary wall. 'And you say this circular area has a
ritual function?'
Greg nodded. 'There's also some kind of highly
advanced Forerunner technology embedded in . . .'
A shattering, stentorian drone blasted through the
chamber as spears and swirling webs of brilliant radi-
ance erupted from the surface of the well next to where
Ambassador Horst was standing. Everyone reacted the
same way, rearing away from the noise and the dazzle,
except for the ambassador, who was trapped in a cage of
light, quivering meshes interleaving. The roaring drone
lessened in force, becoming a resonant, booming voice
speaking incomprehensibly in a demanding tone.
'What in hell is that, Greg?' yelled Theo. 'Is the
ambassador in danger? Are we?'
'The chamber . . . the well has a guardian . . .'
But before he could continue, Chel came running up
followed by Listener Weynl. Chel's forehead was bare
and the outer pair of eyes were open.
'Who is he, Greg?' said Chel, pointing at Horst. 'Who
is this man?'
'He's the Earthsphere ambassador.'
At the same time, Listener Weynl was shouting at the
coruscating maelstrom of light, responding to the
immense voice that thundered forth from it.
Chel stared at Horst, who was on his knees, looking
terrified and hugging folds of his gown to his chest.
'Does this man carry one of the thing you call AIs?'
he said.
'Yes, he does,' said Greg.
Chel shook his head, teeth bared. 'A Dreamless . . .
we will try to save him from the Sentinel, Greg, but you
must trust me and not interfere.'
Greg breathed in deep, trying to steady himself, then
nodded and watched as Chel and Weynl bared their
arms and crouched down near Horst. There was a
moment of stillness, then they swiftly thrust their arms
through the bright shifting mesh - Greg saw the short,
dense fur on their arms begin to char and smoke - and
touched the ambassador's head.
And the ambassador cried out, the muscles on his
neck taut as cables, his eyes wide with pleading.
43
CHEL
When Greg and the other Humans appeared at the door,
Chel and Listener Weynl were sitting cross-legged on
the walkway floor with a blanket between them and the
cold stone. By the lamp's golden glow they were exam-
ining hand-drawn copies of several patterns recently
uncovered in a very old stone tile archive on the forest
moon. They were comparing the tile patterns with
sketches they had made of portions of the well surface,
looking for similarities. The tiles also contained com-
mentaries, but they appeared to be written in some kind
So it was over these that the two Uvovo were poring
when Chel heard the hard, dry sound of footsteps and
looked up. He had been using the outer pair of his new
eyes to regard the well patterns, but now he saw a
strange, spiked nimbus around one of Greg's compan-
ions. At the same time, a faint amorphous radiance was
gathering at the edge of the well nearest the newcomers.
'Something is wrong, Listener,' Chel said, getting to
his feet. 'The well is behaving strangely.'
Without waiting for Weynl's reply he started round
towards the group of Humans. He had gone a few paces
when a bright column of energies erupted from the
well's edge, near where the man with the disturbing aura
was standing. A cacophonous, blaring drone accompa-
nied the outburst of light, almost painful to Uvovo ears,
yet he broke into a run. He could see that the man had
been caught in a bright cage of well energy, and he could
hear the blasting drone subsiding into speech, words in
the Uvovo tongue.
INTRUDER! ENEMY DETECTED! THE HIGH
PATHMASTER MUST INSTRUCT ME ON THE
MODE OF ERASURE.
'No, Sentinel, wait,' Weynl cried out. 'This is a
friend.'
CAPTIVE IS IMPLANTED WITH A FABRICATED
ENTITY - THIS ENTITY MAINTAINS A COHER-
ENT CHANNEL INTO TFIE UNDERD OMAINS OF
THE REAL. THIS CHANNEL MUST BE SHUT OFF
OR ERASURE WILL BE ENACTED - YOU ARE NOT
A PATHMASTER.
Chel hurried up to Gregori, who was talking with his
uncle.
'Who is he, Greg?' he said, pointing at the man in the
cage. 'Who is this man?'
Gregori looked stricken by what was happening.
'He's the Earthsphere ambassador . . .'
Chel gazed at the ambassador, a terrified, grey-haired
man who had slumped to his knees, holding the folds of
his robe close to his chest for some reason.
'Does this man carry one of the things you call AIs?'
Chel gritted his teeth. 'A Dreamless ... we will try to
save him from the Sentinel, Gregori, but you must trust
me and not interfere.'
Gregori hesitated, then nodded. Chel removed the
sleeves of his body garment, as did Weynl next to him,
then they knelt down on the stone floor on the other
side of the energy cage from the Human ambassador
He steeled himself, his outer eyes open, staring at the
intervening, shifting bright meshes, saw how they moved
and saw how to move between them. Then as one, he
and Weynl raised their hands and struck through to take
hold of the Dreamless's host. The spikes in that nimbus
signified the Dreamless's presence and gave away th<
nodes of its connection. Some instinct made his hand
move, small, furred hands stroking the man's head, trac-
ing out the contours beneath, applying a touch or a finely
gauged pressure ... no, not an instinct, he realised, but
skills of another agency, the Sentinel of the well.
Both Uvovo withdrew their hands, and Chel noticed
the band of crisped and smoking fur on his upper arms.
There didn't seem to be any pain at the moment.
'Chel, are you okay?' said Gregori as he helped him
and Weynl to their feet.
He felt dizzy and there was a hollowness in his stom-
ach. He fumbled with unsteady fingers at his waist for
the strip of heavy cloth, the blind for his husking eyes.
Once they were covered, he inhaled deeply, held it for a
moment then exhaled a long, shuddering breath.
'Yes,' he said as the tension ebbed a little. 'I feel
better.'
Then he realised that the Human ambassador was
still held prisoner. The Sentinel had fallen silent, for all
that Listener Weynl kept calling out to it. And now the
ambassador had recovered his composure sufficiently
to stand and converse with Gregori in signs.
'Chel,' Gregori said after a moment or two.
'Ambassador Horst says that his AI is absent and making
no contact - why won't the Sentinel release him?'
'I confess I do not know, Gregori,' he said, turning to
Weynl. 'Did it say anything before . . .'
Suddenly the deep, overpowering voice spoke:
THE DREAMLESS HAS BEEN CONFINED AND
ITS TIES TO THE UNDERDOMAINS ABROGATED.
HOWEVER, IT REMAINS A THREAT.
Chel and Gregori exchanged a look of alarm.
'Wait, Sentinel,' said Chel. 'There has to be a way to
make it completely safe. If you release him to us, it may
be possible to remove . . . the device . . .'
NONE HERE ARE PATHMASTERS. NONE MAY
COMMAND ME, THUS I MUST RESOLVE THIS IN
THE LIGHT OF OTHER REQUIREMENTS. THE
CONSTRUCT HAS ASKED FOR A HUMAN PROXY
SO THIS ONE MAY SUFFICE.
'No!' said Gregori. 'We need this man here - he can
help get the Hegemony off this world . . .'
'Certainty is not... immutable ...'
The words came in a dry, sibilant whisper, not loud
yet omnipresent, and Chel felt a surge of relief when he
saw the outlines of the Pathmaster's hooded form
emerging amid the energy meshes that enclosed the
Earthsphere ambassador.
'Venerable one,' he said, bowing along with Listener
Weynl. Gregori was still standing nearby while Theo
and the others retreated off towards the entrance.
'Sentinel,' said the Pathmaster. 'The Human bears a
Dreamless which has been restrained. Why do you still
hold him?'
THE ENTITY IS CAPABLE OF CONTROLLING
ITS HOST, PATHMASTER. IT REMAINS A THREAT.
I JUDGED THAT THE CONSTRUCT'S REQUEST
FOR A HUMAN WOULD BE SATISFIED BY THIS
ONE.
'Yet this Human is a senior representative of the
greater Human culture,' Chel said. 'Left here, he would
be able to weaken the Hegemony's position and even
force their withdrawal.'
'Ah, young Seer Cheluvahar, the Hegemony
Dreamless know this place exists - they will not loosen
their grip, even if the Earth Humans were to turn
against their Hegemony allies. No, the ambassador's
presence will have little or no effect on the strife and
conflict about to befall this world. The Hegemony will
shortly control Umara and soon they will be walking in
this very chamber.'
Chel fell silent, shocked, but Gregori was clearly
upset.
'What does that mean for the ambassador?' he said to
Chel in Noranglic. 'He's not sending him off to this
Construct, whatever that is...'
'Human, the Construct was the Great Ancients' most
faithful ally,' the Pathmaster said in perfect whispered
Noranglic. 'And it remains a steadfast guardian of their
purpose - it has promised us help in our struggle against
the occupiers, and its promises are never broken. Also, it
will know how exactly to deal with the Dreamless
locked up in the host's head, for that is why he has come
here, Human, otherwise he would be elsewhere.'
<
br /> 'No,' said Gregori. 'This man is our best chance of
holding off the Hegemony . . .'
'Damn it!' said Theo Karlsson. 'I didn't get him away
from those Brolturans just to lose him like this!'
'No, Human Karlsson,' whispered the Pathmaster.
'That is precisely why you rescued him.'
'Venerable one,' said Chel. 'Respectfully I ask, is your
certainty immutable?'
'No, Seer Chel, but my judgement must be - Sentinel,
send the Human onwards to the Construct!'
IT SHALL BE DONE.
For a long, agonising moment Chel stared at the hor-
rified Ambassador Horst as he pointed and begged in
silence. Then a dense vortex of well energies engulfed
him, a bright maelstrom swirling for a few seconds before
it began to diminish back across the boundary wall. The
Pathmaster still hovered amid the fading, dissolving flow
of radiance, and in those dying instants it pointed at Chel,
Gregori and the rest in a single, sweeping gesture.
'Leave here - now!'
Then the last threads and grains of energy were gone,
leaving them in the gloom of torchlight, hopes crushed,
plans scattered, and the future . . .
The Humans wandered despondently away through
the door, Gregori lingering, gazing at the darkened well.
Chel went with Listener Weynl back to their small camp
to gather together their sketches and papers. Yet Chel
realised that, despite this dismal, dispiriting outcome,
the future remained unwritten, as opaque and formless
to the Dreamless as it was to themselves. Consoled by
this, he followed Weynl, hastening after Gregori and the
others.
44
KAO CHIH
In his dream he was being chased by a long, winding fes-
tival dragon whose head was the four-armed torso of an
Ezgara commando, its four hands tipped with serrated
claws, its featureless helmet splitting open to show rows
of needle-like teeth, gleaming, snapping . . .
He was jolted in his couch, waking once more to a
sickly mouth and a nasty headache.
'Back among the living, KC? - good. We're docking
with my associates' mothership so it won't be long
before you meet the leaders of the revolution!'
Corazon Talavera, his beautiful and deadly captor, sat
in the pilot couch, monitoring displays, making a few-
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