On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted

by Helena Puumala

  “This isn’t bad,” she assured him at one point when he laughed a little ruefully as Kati and Joaley both struggled with a series of obstacles which the natives barely needed to acknowledge. “A while back some people coming to the Base from the Capital City brought an off-worlder with them, one who had to be kept hidden like the Klensers have to be, from the Exalted. She’s a tiny thing, even shorter than Joaley. And because during the trip from the City, she had to hide inside one of the deluxe carts, she was not in the best shape for walking. The runner who guided the group told me that the girl had an awful walk to the Base, but boy, was she tough. No quitter her, that’s for sure. Later, we said to one another that she ought to have been taken there on a runnerbeast—she’s small like a child and could easily have ridden one—but no-one thought of that at the time.”

  “Do you use the runnerbeasts as pack animals to get supplies to the Base?” Lank asked.

  Santha nodded.

  “Although they often need help to make it over obstacles,” she said with a laugh. “Sometimes, on the way back when they’re not heavily loaded, they can manage to make it underneath the obstacles. It’s kind of interesting to watch them do that; they can squeeze their bodies very close to the ground.”

  Rakil had reached them.

  “Never before, in my whole life,” he said with a rueful shake of his curly head, “have I thought of myself as a short person. Home on Borhq I’m just normal height, and on Lamania I was deemed a big brute. But here on Vultaire, I feel like another twenty centimetres of height would come in useful.”

  “Another twenty centimetres would make you a pretty tall Vultairian,” Santha laughed at him. “And, considering your girth, you’d be a giant!”

  “All the better when it comes to following this trail,” Rakil replied, his natural good spirits clearly reasserting themselves. “Here come Kati and Joaley, stubborn strugglers, both!”

  “If you women feel that you need a break, we can certainly stop for a short rest and a drink of water,” Santha said, looking at the two with some concern. “We don’t have to be at the Base at any particular time. We can travel as fast, or as slowly, as we want.”

  “A drink of water is a good idea,” Kati said, settling on a fallen log which lay beside the trail—and not across it, like many of the others that they had passed.

  She was actually not much the worse for wear; the Granda had been keeping her muscles in good order. However, she had noticed that Joaley had been lagging, but knew by now that the red-head would never admit to needing rest if no-one else did.

  With a sigh Joaley dropped down to sit beside Kati, while the others found places for themselves. They hauled out their water flasks and drank. After a few minutes of chatting, they tackled the trail again, Joaley looking better for the break.

  *****

  They stopped to eat their lunch in an open area, which Santha said had been cleared to serve as a meal stop.

  “So we’re not travelling all that much more slowly than a Vultairian group would?” Lank asked.

  “We’re making as good time as any group new to the area,” Santha replied. “You foreigners have been keeping up remarkably well.”

  “We’re a determined bunch,” Joaley had muttered, between bites of a sandwich.

  “She doesn’t have the benefit of an old, experienced node,” The Monk had subvocalized to Kati, who had been eyeing Joaley with some concern. “Hers is a fresh one, still learning the ins and outs of the human musculature. Unlike myself—I can tell when and where you need internal massage before you do. Her node doesn’t know to help until she registers discomfort.”

  Interesting, Kati thought.

  “So a translation node goes through a learning curve, too?” she queried silently.

  “Oh yes. Although most nodes satisfy their curiosity about human life pretty quickly. I am valuable precisely because I have stayed around to learn much more than most nodes do.”

  Kati withdrew her attention from The Monk’s big ego, and gazed upon the scenery, instead. Trees and rocks; a landscape a lot like the one she had grown up in on her own world, yet utterly different. The trees were evergreens, but much taller and less gnarled than the jack pines and spruces that she had known at home. The soil in the rocky crevasses must be nutrient-rich, she decided, wondering about the geological history of the continent that she was on. How much did the Vultairians know about their world; was there a library somewhere, perhaps in the Capital City, where she could find such information?

  Idly, she sent her PSI sense to wander around the little clearing, avoiding the consciousnesses of her fellow travellers. She recalled how, on the Drowned Planet, she had once tried to enter the minds of her travelling companions, and had found that most were so well blocked that she had slid by them without registering a touch. She had no need to contact the minds of her co-travellers now; instead she thought to explore the fauna and the flora about, to sense what consciousnesses might be in the forest. So, chewing on her sandwich, she allowed her mind to drift, leaving The Monk to keep track of the talk eddying about her.

  There were small lives around, but nothing big. She remembered being told that the people at the Underground Base fed themselves partly by hunting; no doubt the larger animals had begun to keep their distance from any humans on the trail. She was about to withdraw back to her body, when she became aware of a psychic presence which, unexpectedly, enveloped her.

  “What?” her surprised thought attracted The Monk’s attention.

  She sent him to suss it out, withdrawing her own mind to her body.

  Only seconds later, the Granda was back.

  “That would be the consciousness of the forest, the land around us,” The Monk told her. “This world is so old, so thoroughly established, that the natural environment has evolved its own sentience. It is aware of all who pass through, but very rarely are people aware of its existence. It is very curious about you and me, since we can sense its presence.”

  Kati could mentally hear the questioning behind The Monk:

  “Who-o-o? Not of us, you-u-u. Why-y-y he-e-re?”

  The presence was not powerless, even though it seemed ephemeral. There was a demand in the questions; for a moment Kati wondered if it might not have been wiser to not have attracted the attention. It was too late for that, however, so she made a quick decision, and opened up her mind to the sentience. If the Granda was right about its connection to the planet, she had nothing to fear. She had loved the natural landscape of her own world, and she was prepared to like this one.

  The new acquaintance scrutinized her—and the Granda—quickly but thoroughly. It seemed to find The Monk a most amusing creature; imprisoned within Kati’s nervous system, it was mostly harmless in spite of its dangerous proclivities. As for Kati herself, the consciousness quickly settled in as a new friend. It whisked her mind through its psychic essence (she sensed rocks, rivers, trees, flowering plants, animals of all kinds and even the people living in Ithcar Province and its environs). She was given to understand that the entity was unhappy with the imbalances on the planet that the human population had created over the centuries, and wanted to see balance restored. Insofar as Kati’s plans would help with that restoration, it was willing to keep out of her way, and, if the need arose, to help her. In fact, already it was tolerating, and, at times, aiding and abetting the Rebels at the Underground Base for the same reason, in spite of not being able to communicate with them.

  “Hey Kati, you went off somewhere!” Joaley said, snapping her fingers in front of Kati’s face.

  The people around her were gathering up their packs.

  Kati pushed Joaley’s hand away, and picked up remnants of a sandwich from her lap.

  “Was I out long?” she asked, and shovelled the last of her lunch into her mouth, following it with a glug from her water flask.

  “Only a few minutes,” Rakil answered, clearly determined to forestall Joaley’s teasing. “But we’re all curious, of course, as to what’s
going on.”

  “Whew. That was a long—or should I say, a packed—few minutes,” Kati replied. “I made a friend. At least, I think I made a friend. I had an exchange with the—how would you express this—The Spirit of the Forest—or maybe, The Spirit of the Land, a portion of the Spirit of the Planet.”

  She thought for a moment.

  “People theorized about the existence of such a planetary entity on my world,” she added. “We called it Gaia; the name came from an Earth goddess from a distant past.”

  “I have heard old people talking about something like that,” Santha said slowly, drawing tight the strings that closed her back-pack. “At one time, at least some of the Klensers could contact it, I was told. We are to live in harmony with it, but I’m not sure that anyone knows any more what that means.”

  “I gather that what the Underground is doing, is closer to it than what the Oligarchs are up to,” Kati replied. “I got the impression that it likes us, because our aims may help to restore the balance of the world, which, it feels, has been off-kilter for a long time.”

  “Yeah, I imagine that the imbalance has to do with the Exalted grabbing all power, and using it to benefit only themselves,” Santha agreed.

  Kati turned to Zass.

  “You’re a Klenser; can you feel its presence?” she asked him, adding: “It’s a pretty amorphous feeling, being in contact with it; like something wispy surrounding your consciousness, but very powerful at the same time—if what I’m saying makes any sense.”

  Zass smiled at her.

  “It’s what I sense when I listen to the heartbeat of the world,” he said. “I’m sure of it. Only, I don’t think that I can communicate with it the way you did. It’s all just sensations to me.”

  “I’d bet that you can learn to communicate with it,” Kati responded, shouldering her pack.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Your entertainer guests have arrived!” Santha shouted to what looked to be more of the trail, in the bottom of a valley.

  A couple of hours had passed since the lunch stop. A stream ran beside the path, but, outside of that, Kati saw nothing to mark the place as different from any of the other portions of the track. Suddenly, her psyche was invaded by the Spirit of the Forest, with what felt very much like a giggle, and the veil of the vegetation was lifted, at least within her mind, if not to her ordinary sight, and she realized that there was a big, camouflaged structure ahead, attached to a large natural cave.

  “It is literally an Underground Base,” she subvocalized to The Monk, with amused wonder.

  What kind of rocks were they amongst, that there would be a large natural cave in the area?

  The Forest Spirit drew her attention to the gardens beyond the building, and the place where the stream had been diverted to provide water for the people inside. Kati had the impression that the water diversion had been accomplished rather ingeniously, but she had no time to explore it. Her attention was claimed by Vultairians who had abruptly surrounded the Troupe.

  Before she could study them, however, her mind was whisked away again, this time further along the path, into the forest beyond the Base. She found her mental self next to an off-world gadget, hidden in a crevice beneath a large rock. It was a small, boxy-looking item, with a half a dozen buttons, and a blinking light on it, plus what looked like an ear-piece and a microphone. In fact, it resembled a cell phone, although not one that she had ever seen.

  “Wha-a-a-t?” the Spirit asked her.

  She was given a fleeting image of a Vultairian furtively speaking into the mike, listening with the ear-piece.

  “A transmitter of some kind,” Kati responded subvocally, and The Monk added: “Shelonian technology.”

  Did the Underground Base harbour a mole?

  She had to re-orient herself; the Vultairians around her were a group of less than ten friendly, if looming faces, and they were greeting Santha even while eyeing her companions curiously. One of them recognized Jock, and with a delighted whoop, came to whack him on a shoulder.

  “This bunch of rapscallions,” Santha explained to the Troupe, “are today’s outside workers. They split wood, weed the gardens, and so on. They also keep an eye out for visitors, and determine if they are expected guests; if not, they find out who the arrivals are, and why they are here. Since we are expected—I brought word of our coming myself, a couple of weeks ago—there is no problem.

  “These are the musicians that I promised you,” she added for the Base workers’ benefit.

  “No kidding,” someone laughed. “Who else could the shorties be?”

  “Now, now, let’s not be rude,” Santha said, waggling a finger under the nose of the offending young man.

  The fellow greeting Jock was the leader of the work detail, apparently, for he immediately cut his conversation short, and turned to the lad:

  “Vic, you get to go and wag your tongue to give Jorun the news. Rayna and Ditt are on watch duty, and will have to stay here. The rest of us can accompany our guests indoors.”

  There were no arguments. Vic took off, and a young man and a woman lagged behind, as the group began to move down a different, seemingly camouflaged, path which veered to where Kati knew the Base building to be. The camouflage was not complicated; there was simply a line of bushes separating the trail that they had been on, and the one they now took. Kati suspected that one of the outside workers’ jobs was to keep these bushes thriving in spite of the traffic through them; they were verdant enough that anyone walking along the streamside path would stay on it, never even noticing the fork in the trail. A simple precaution, but added to the fact that the Base kept guards on watch, suggested that the Underground Movement was not complacently relying on superstitious fears for their safety.

  The remaining escort had arranged itself to unobtrusively surround the newcomers. Jock was conversing in a low voice with the escort leader, and Santha was bantering with another member, but outside of that there was no talk as they crossed the distance to the building. The double doors into it were open—Vic must have primed the two people who were holding them—and everyone trooped through into a large open hall, where people hurried to and fro, each intent on his or her errand. A few of the nearest ones stopped when they saw the newcomers, and Kati who had had the Granda enhance her senses for the occasion, heard one murmur to her nearest neighbour:

  “Hey, it has to be the off-world troupe of entertainers!”

  “Hello, Santha,” the talker’s neighbour greeted the guide. “Has Jorun been sent for?”

  “Yeah.” This was Jock’s acquaintance—Kati still did not know his name. “Maybe you, Jame, can take our guests to the dining area while we go back outdoors to finish our work.”

  There were disappointed mutters from the escort, but he remained firm, adding:

  “It’s the middle of the afternoon, and we have work to do. The end of the workday will come soon, and no doubt there will be some top-notch entertainment in this hall tonight! Besides, we don’t want to overwhelm our guests; there are going to be enough gawkers coming around to get eyefuls. Work doesn’t get done unless someone does it.”

  “That last statement is Mycha’s favourite saying,” the Vultairian closest to Kati said, her eyes dancing. “But he’s right about the gawkers. And hey, I intend to ask a hundred questions before you guys leave again. My name’s Brin, by the way.”

  She reached for Kati with her hand. Kati shook it, grinning, and stated her name. With that, Brin, Mycha, and the others of the escort turned back outdoors.

  “Jame, I know my way to the dining area,” Santha said brightly. “If you’re busy, keep on with what you’re doing. Vic will have told Jorun that I’m bringing the entertainers, and he’ll know that I’ll take them to the dining area—where you people always have an adequate supply of the best beer in this part of the world.”

  Jame and the woman beside him chortled in unison.

  “You have a reputation, Santha,” Jame said. “I do have an errand to ru
n—I guess now it’s two errands. I’ll be spreading the word of the arrivals!”

  “Me too,” said the woman. “Only I’m heading in a different direction. Everyone awake in this place will shortly know that the musicians have come!”

  Laughing, Santha led the group to the back of the huge hall, where tables and chairs were set up behind a partial wall. Beyond the tables was a counter, and a kitchen. There were several people working in the kitchen, apparently preparing the evening meal.

  Santha hailed a couple of them by name, and one of the women brought a tray of mugs to the counter, next to a keg, and an urn.

  “Is your crew hungry, too, or just thirsty?” she asked. “We have some fresh pastries. Ithcar sent us a shipment of assorted flours, yesterday, and our bakers have been going wild.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Santha looked at the musicians questioningly, and at their nods, added: “All agree. We’ll be glad to test the bakers’ handiwork.”

  “They are good,” the kitchen worker said, hauling out a large, cloth-covered basket.

  Rakil was the closest Troupe member, and he crossed to the counter and took the basket, with a smile.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow. “I think we will enjoy them after all the exercise we have just had.”

  “Make sure to try the beer, too,” the woman told him, obviously charmed. “You’ll have worked up a thirst, too, on the trail.”

  Santha was already at the keg.

  “This beer,” she said, “is the best brew in this part of the continent. It is worth the walk here.”

  “Then I’ll definitely have to try a mug,” Rakil stated, settling the basket in the middle of the table to which Santha had led the group. “We brew some fine ales on Borhq, so I consider myself a bit of a connoisseur.”

  “Oh, you won’t be disappointed,” Santha said, replacing the mug under the tap. “Here.” She brought the full one to the table, and Lank got up to help her at the keg.

  “I suppose that word has been sent to Jorun?” the kitchen worker asked.