A World of Secrets (The Firewall Trilogy)

by James Maxwell

  Gorax let out a breath. He leaned forward to clap Vance on the back. “That is quite a tale! I would like to meet this Blixen one day.”

  “Now,” Breang interrupted, “it is my turn for a request.” She turned. “Ruth, when were you and Vance married?”

  Ruth and Vance exchanged glances. “After . . .” Ruth hesitated, and now she was studiously looking away from Vance, “after peace was declared. Vance rescued me from the Protector, and we were married in a cactus grove.” She gave a wry smile. “His choice of setting.”

  “My joke,” Vance said with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye. “She was always prickly.”

  “Prickly?” Ruth glared at him.

  “You see?” Vance grinned. “But despite her disposition, she is a beauty.” He was now looking directly at Ruth. “The most beautiful woman in the wasteland.”

  Ruth’s scowl turned into a blush. It was the first time Selena had seen her at a loss for words.

  As the conversation continued, Selena found herself thinking about Taimin. She missed him. Even when he was with her, she missed the way things were. She remembered when they first met, and she had been fascinated by the young warrior with the wherry by his side. Their friendship had developed into something more as they searched for the white city. Together, they had discovered the truth about the world outside the firewall. If they could only get there, they might share a new dream, more wondrous than anything before it.

  All of a sudden, she had a strong urge to be alone. She climbed to her feet. “Warden, do you mind if I look around?”

  “Of course not,” Gorax said. “Everyone knows you are here by now. You will not be harmed. Make sure you come back in time for the feast.”

  She thanked him and walked away.

  Selena wandered through the settlement, watching bax as they clustered around fires, talking and preparing food. The false night still provided plenty of light to see by. Husbands and wives sat close together while little ones played at their knees. Some of the bax glanced at her and nodded; a few even waved greetings. It was strange; no one minded her being here. Perhaps the different races could live together after all.

  Maybe if everyone put their energy into finding common ground and working together, they wouldn’t need to destroy the firewall.

  The thought passed quickly. Selena shook her head. Someone had created the machine and put up the firewall. Someone had built Zorn. She owed it to everyone who had been killed by thirst, starvation, heat, exhaustion, predators, and conflict over scarce resources to get inside the machine—and destroy it.

  Passing the last hut, she focused on the terrain. Her purpose in this place was to find an entrance. She needed to search.

  Now that she was alone, she unfastened the grapple from around her waist and kept it handy; if she encountered anything she would be ready. She found seams in the rock everywhere. Most were like wrinkles in an old man’s face, but some were large, clefts and fissures that cut into the cliffs and might lead underground. Gravel Range was tiny compared to the Rift Valley; it might take a few days, but three of them working together would be able to explore the whole area.

  With no time to lose, Selena inspected the gaps and crevices, one after the other, but found only rock. She continued to walk along one face of the cliff until it dropped down and merged with the dirt, then she walked back toward the settlement, following the opposite side of the gorge.

  She had nearly returned to the huts and was poking her head into a seam when she heard a voice behind her.

  “What are you doing?”

  Selena turned and saw a little bax female. The youngling had pinkish cheeks, warts on her scalp, and a voice that was gruff and rasping, but somehow she was still as sweet as a human child.

  “I’m looking for beetles.” Selena crouched down and smiled. “They’re my favorite food.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “Of course you can.”

  Selena soon had a companion as she explored. The youngling skipped along beside her until it was too dark to see anymore.

  19

  Taimin turned his head to look outside. He could see only darkness through the triangular mouth of the cavern. He was seated on a cushion, with Lars and Milton on either side. Four guards stood nearby and watched the ongoing trade. Farther away, more skalen had gathered around the fire pit, and there was a sharp sizzle and fountain of sparks as they used aurelium to light the tinder. Younger skalen fetched meat, along with clay pots and water sacks, and began to prepare an evening meal—although to the night-loving skalen it might have been breakfast. One of the cooks peeled back the curtain guarding the nest and spoke to someone beyond.

  Meanwhile, the clan leader, Kash, carefully added a knuckle-sized shard of aurelium from her jar onto the open pouch on the ground in front of her.

  “There you have it,” Kash said. “My final offer.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. “Well?” she asked briskly. “Do we have an agreement?” She began to reach for the sword lying horizontally on the ground in front of the three men.

  Lars glanced at Taimin, who was scowling at the sword.

  “Wait.” Taimin held up his hand until Kash drew back. “I need to confer with my companions.”

  Kash looked from face to face. She threw up her hands. “Make it quick. I will eat, and you may talk until I am done.” The tall skalen climbed to her feet and walked away.

  “What do you think?” Taimin asked his two companions.

  “She’s hiding something,” Milton answered softly.

  “Lars?”

  “There’s something that rumbles under the desert, and she doesn’t even want to talk about it? It’s strange, I’ll admit. Still, the skalen might just be afraid of it.” Lars focused on Taimin. “What happened outside?”

  “I looked inside one of the caves, the other big one,” Taimin said. “As far as I could see there’s nothing strange about it. They’re using it as a storeroom.”

  Lars swept his gaze over the cavern. “So they’ve got even more goods than we can see here? Where does it all come from?”

  “Maybe they stole it,” Milton said.

  “Maybe,” Taimin said reluctantly.

  Lars turned to Milton. “Can you farcast what’s in the last cave?”

  “You think I haven’t tried?” Milton nodded toward various locations around the cavern. “There’s aurelium all over the place. It interferes.”

  “So there goes that idea,” Lars grunted. “What’s the plan?” he asked Taimin.

  “We need more time,” Taimin said.

  “They’ll never let us wander around,” said Milton, running his fingers through the wisps of his gray beard. “In fact, as soon as Kash returns she’s going to want us gone.” He raised an eyebrow at Taimin. “And you’re going to lose your sword.”

  “It’s late,” Taimin said. “They know enough about humans to know we sleep—”

  “Shh,” Milton hissed.

  Kash set a clay bowl and spoon onto a bench and came over. She didn’t sit down. The aurelium on the pouch was where she had left it, and the sword still lay flat on the ground. She revealed her pointed white teeth. “Well?”

  “We’ve just been talking,” Lars said. He indicated Milton. “Our friend is weak. We’re tired and it’s dark outside.” Milton’s mouth tightened at Lars’s comment. “If we can stay the night, we can resume our trade in the morning.”

  Kash’s reptilian eyes narrowed. “This is not what we discussed.” She shook her head sharply. “No, you cannot stay.”

  Taimin thought about how eager Kash had been to trade the sword. He took a risk and shrugged. “Then I’ll take my sword back.” He reached forward but Kash stopped him.

  “Wait . . . That will not be necessary.” The clan leader hesitated. “One night. But be warned, our trade will be affected.” She scooped up the pouch, keeping the aurelium shards within. She then pointed to one of the alcoves, a cleft in the rock that contained a pile of old skins. “You can sleep
over there and you can eat your own food. Do not leave the residence without permission. We will give you a pot for making water. Just keep quiet and stay where I have said. You may be sleeping but we will be awake, and we will be watching.”

  Taimin, Lars, and Milton gathered their packs and headed to the designated area. The ceiling was low and Milton cursed when he bumped his head. Lars wrinkled his nose as he kicked aside the old skins.

  “Weak, am I?” Milton muttered.

  “I said what I had to,” Lars murmured as a skalen passed by. “Try not to get so offended.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Taimin said.

  “Let’s just ask them,” Milton said.

  “No.” Taimin shook his head. “Not until we know what’s in that last cave.” He made a decision. “Milton, tomorrow you need to pretend to be ill.”

  Milton scowled. “There has to be another way.”

  “Do you want to help or don’t you?” Lars growled. “They understand age the same way we do. I’m old, but I’m not as old as you, and the rains know I’m stronger. It’s a better story if it’s you.”

  “Please,” Taimin said, meeting Milton’s eyes.

  “Fine,” the old mystic grumbled.

  Taimin was tired, but as he lay on his blanket, his eyes shifted and he saw an armed skalen, seated against the opposite wall, watching them carefully. The tip of the guard’s javelin glowed. If thrown, the point would detonate. Would the guard risk it? Or would he use the dagger at his waist if he wanted to cause them harm? There might be enough aurelium in the cavern for one explosion to trigger another. The skalen’s tilted eyes reflected the green light as he returned Taimin’s gaze.

  It took Taimin a long time to fall asleep.

  Kash scowled. Milton lay stretched out on his back and panted while he stared up at the ceiling. Lars had wet the old man’s forehead so it looked like he was dripping sweat. Seated nearby, Taimin leaned over Milton and made a show of covering him in a second blanket. He didn’t like the subterfuge but at least it would give him the chance to find out what the skalen were hiding.

  “I am not pleased. Not pleased at all,” Kash hissed. “How long will this sickness last?”

  Taimin frowned at the tall skalen standing over him. “This isn’t our choice. We planned to travel today.”

  Lars gave an elaborate sigh. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.” He spoke to Kash in a grim voice. “Last time he was like this he didn’t recover for days.”

  “Are you certain he is not dying?”

  “It’s just a fever,” Taimin said. “It will pass with time.”

  “Wait here.” Kash angrily tossed her head and strode away.

  Lars met Taimin’s eyes. “We’re pushing our luck.”

  “It worked, that’s the important thing. You did well, Milton.”

  Milton spoke in a low growl. “Are you telling me I have to lie like this for days?”

  “Just until we get a chance to look around,” Taimin said.

  Taimin saw Kash finish a discussion with her warriors. The tall skalen’s expression was irritated as she strode toward them.

  “We want the sword,” Kash said, baring her white teeth. “And we are giving you nothing in return. No aurelium. No leather. No ceramics. Nothing. Also, while you are here you can feed yourselves or starve. That is my offer. You can accept it or you can go.”

  Taimin looked at Lars. The big skinner scratched his thick black beard and then gave a reluctant nod.

  “Fine,” Taimin said. “We agree.” His gaze rested on his sword, which was still in its scabbard beside his blanket. It wasn’t just valuable; if he had to fight, his bow would be unwieldy in the confines of the cavern.

  “Now,” Kash said. “You must stay where you are, and you will be guarded at all times. If you wish to go outside, you must ask, and you will be escorted. I do not trust you. And let me be clear, you must depart before the sandstorms come, sickness or no sickness. Understood?”

  “We understand,” Taimin said wearily.

  “Now, the sword.”

  Seated on the stone floor, Taimin didn’t move. He gave Kash a determined stare. “You’ll have it when we leave.”

  “No. Now.”

  Taimin shook his head. “My friend is sick. I’ll keep the sword until he’s better. When my friend is well, then you can have the sword for providing refuge.” He put strength into his voice. “There are many more of you. You know you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

  Kash thought for a moment and then nodded. “Remember: before the sandstorms, one way or the other. Now tend to your companion. The sooner you are all gone, the happier I will be.”

  Two days passed, and then three. The skalen in the residence moved about at night and rested in their nest during the day, while the humans followed the opposite rhythm. The close quarters, cold temperature, and lack of freedom wore on Taimin’s nerves. Lars became sullen and withdrawn. Milton complained.

  The residence was now familiar. Taimin had even seen inside the nest when he had offered to help carry water sacks, peeking in as he passed the curtain. He saw a low-ceilinged, circular space, filled with cushions and blankets. Small skalen tottered about under the supervision of the adults. The nest was big enough for the twenty or so skalen in the clan to sleep together, but there were no branching passages.

  Taimin left the cavern several times, and at least the pain in his foot was better than it had been in a long time. He exercised when he could, but every move he made was under the watchful eyes of a guard. As the winds from the desert grew stronger, the skalen made visits to the storage cave to fetch supplies. At night, hunting parties set off with javelins and returned with rock lizards and scrub rats. The skalen found cactuses on their travels and hauled them into the residence. But no one visited the smallest of the caves, the one Taimin had yet to see inside, at least not while he was near.

  Taimin now sat with his back against the wall and sharpened his sword. As he ran a smooth stone along the blade, rays of morning light poured through the cavern’s entrance. The skalen attended to their individual tasks, still awake from the previous night.

  “I’m tired of this,” Milton muttered. The old mystic sat up. Taimin shot a glance at their ever-present guard, but the skalen was inspecting the glowing tip of his javelin. “It’s been three days. I want to be searching the desert, not stuck here with a bunch of skalen.”

  “Lie down,” Lars said. Milton gave Lars a wary look and reluctantly followed the command.

  “There’s a mystery here,” Taimin said softly. “Where does Kash get her aurelium? This isn’t a mine.”

  “Wait,” Lars said. “Something’s happening.”

  Kash entered the cavern with a trull by her side.

  Taimin watched with interest. His only experience with trulls came from encounters in the arena. The trull was tall, over six feet in height, and had long, lank hair, dirty brown in color. A large upturned nose with wide nostrils gave way to a thick-lipped mouth and curved incisors that hung over the lower jaw. The trull wore a vest and coarse trousers over a solid, muscular body.

  The trull turned to speak to someone following. Taimin’s surprise grew when he saw a mantorean trailing behind. The mantorean had the typical triangular head, crowned with a pair of antennae, along with multifaceted black eyes and a bone-colored carapace. She was evidently a female, given her strong legs.

  He remembered when a trull had sold Rei-kika and her eggs, and at first thought the mantorean must be a captive. But then, from her easy manner, bow on her shoulder, and knife at her waist, he realized that the trull and mantorean were companions.

  Kash obviously knew them both well. “Sit, please.” She indicated the circle of cushions that the three humans had once occupied. Kash saw the trull’s dark eyes on Taimin and waved a hand. “Ignore the humans.”

  “Why are they here?” the trull asked.

  “One of them is ill. They say they are unable to travel.”
>
  “You are certain? They may be taking advantage of your hospitality.” Taimin felt a spike of apprehension at the trull’s next words. “If you want them gone, why not kill them?”

  “Believe me,” Kash said with a snort. “They are getting little hospitality from me. Seat yourselves. Please.”

  Kash waited for the trull and mantorean to lower themselves to the cushions before settling herself. A young skalen brought clay cups filled with water and the strange group of three drank together.

  “I hope your travels have been successful.”

  “Somewhat,” the trull said in a throaty voice.

  A pack rested on the ground, and Kash glanced at it curiously. “Well? What do you have for me?”

  The trull began to rummage, and removed a leather pouch that jingled. As Kash watched, the trull emptied the pouch onto the ground. Taimin heard multiple clangs.

  “Metal rings,” the trull said.

  “That is not all,” the mantorean said in a clicking voice. “Show her.”

  The trull reached into the pack once more and removed a cloth-wrapped bundle. Kash leaned forward to see, and Taimin caught a glimpse of a long dagger with a wooden handle and a slightly rusted blade.

  “Prin-tika killed a human for it,” the trull said.

  “Hara played her part,” Prin-tika said. Taimin realized that it wasn’t just the mantorean who was female.

  Kash leaned forward eagerly. She inspected the items and then her head moved sharply as she took note of Taimin watching. “Human, keep your eyes to yourself,” she said.

  Taimin looked away, but only long enough for Kash to return her attention to the trade. The skalen clan leader laid out a leather pouch on the ground. She then picked up a large jar and reached inside to place the contents onto the pouch one by one. Taimin saw the pile of aurelium pieces grow, and was surprised to see several formed into rings and cylinders.