The Dark Path

by Walter H Hunt

  As she stood on the field looking up at the sky, she could pick out tiny shapes flying outside the airspace of the port—zor flying under their own power. The breeze blowing across the field ruffled Ch'k'te's wings as he stood next to her. To Jackie, it looked as if he were ready to take flight himself.

  All the fuss about Qu'u had prepared her for a reception when she reached solid ground; instead they were left out in the open, waiting for cargo and their gear to be unloaded. After several minutes Ch'k'te picked out an aircar approaching from the direction of the terminal. It presently pulled up alongside.

  A uniformed zor leaned out of the driver's side and said, "se Commodore Laperriere?"

  Not "mighty Qu'u? she thought. Then she added, to herself: Word must not have reached the frontier yet.

  "I'm Laperriere," she said, glancing sideways at Ch'k'te. "Are you our transport?"

  "Yes, se Commodore," the zor replied. He inserted a talon into a receptacle on his dashboard and the rear hatch, and two back doors slid open. "I am to take you to your lodging, though my orders are to take you to another destination first."

  "Another destination? Where else?"

  "A . . . courtesy visit," the zor answered, "according to my orders, se Commodore." They stowed their bags and climbed into the backseat. The zor pilot engaged the car and took it up in the air; shortly they were flying along over a major city.

  It was Jackie's first extended visit to a zor world. The scenery was alien below; the car traveled at about two hundred klicks, at an altitude that provided a good view of the buildings. She could see zor flying below the car at slower speeds, descending to land on platforms that extended everywhere from the thin, angular buildings. Unlike human architecture, which had gradually progressed to a point of geometric abstractness, zor structures were intricate and extensively decorated. They bore huge spidery patterns on their sides which Jackie knew to be hRni'i, visual and tactile markings that indicated not only the purpose of the building but also its ownership, history and (for all she knew) present market value and number of available rooms. If she were a zor, she could have flown along the walls of the building and read the hRni'i with her hands as well as with her eyes.

  Such a pity to be without wings. She remembered the voice of Shrnu'u and she had a floating memory of him, his wings held in a mocking position.

  "Bastard," she said, burying a fist in her open hand and wondering to herself whether she meant Shrnu'u or the High Chamberlain.

  "Pardon?" Ch'k'te asked, solicitous.

  "Nothing. I was just . . . Nothing."

  ***

  The car touched down on a wide landing-bay, six or seven levels—perhaps thirty meters—above ground level. There was no railing around the platform. Of course not, she thought to herself as she disembarked, a meter away from a sheer drop. If you step off the edge, you just have to spread your wings.

  "I am to wait for you here," their driver said, and gestured to ward a young zor approaching the car. The driver picked up a comp from the seat and activated it, perhaps settling in for a long wait.

  They exchanged bows and pleasantries with the zor, who was an alHyu for the person they were to meet. He led them into the building, along a railingless balcony that overlooked a sheer drop to the lobby, which was fitted out as a garden. They passed under an archway and came into a sitting-room; there a single zor was perched, as if expecting their arrival. The alHyu bowed and left them alone with their host.

  The zor was old. She'd never really seen an old zor before; the wrinkled face and drooping wings, the whitened proboscis and balding head, were a bit shocking. The elder one fluttered to the part of the room where they sat; he went to an ornate flagon from a side table and slowly, almost painfully, poured some clear liquid into three exquisite cups, one for each of them. He took one cup at a time from the table and offered it to each guest; then, taking the last one, he slowly made his way back to his own perch. Jackie watched the entire process—she could not look away: it was a compelling scene from the moment she'd first seen him until the time he settled back onto the perch, the disk of esLi silhouetting him from behind.

  "So," he said, wrapping his taloned hands around the cup and rocking back and forth slightly. He reached one talon into the liquid and drew a small circle in the air.

  "So," Jackie repeated.

  "So, you are probably wondering what you are doing here."

  "The question had crossed my mind, Honored One—"

  "Fah," the old zor said, raising his cup. "esLiHeYar." He tossed the contents down his throat. "Aaah," he added after a moment.

  Jackie sipped at her cup, which she supposed contained some kind of tea. A fiery liquid several orders of magnitude stronger coursed down her throat, numbing her lips as it passed. "esLi HeYar," she managed to whisper. "What the hell—"

  "It is called egeneh. Best served warm. Can I pour you some more?"

  "Perhaps in my next life, Honored One," she replied.

  "Enough of that," he said. "Or else I will feel obliged to lapse into "mighty Qu'u" every second sentence. esLi knows you have probably heard that enough in the last few days.

  "I saw you observing me a short time ago, se Commodore. An old one, you thought. How unusual. No, do not apologize," he continued, pouring himself another cupful of egeneh. "Even those of my own race are taken aback by my extreme longevity. I remember—Ah, well. Let us not get me started. When I was young, there were no old ones for a simple reason: Your race was busy killing members of my race before we could grow old." His wings altered to a different position; Jackie supposed it conveyed sorrow, but she couldn't be sure.

  "Exactly how old are you?—if one may ask such a question."

  "Before I answer, let me put your mind at ease. You may ask any question you wish within these walls. However, let me warn you that if I am able, I will answer. Choose carefully the questions you ask; and be sure that you wish for me to answer them.

  "As to your question, I am one hundred and twenty-four Standard years old, se Commodore."

  "Jackie."

  "Jackie." He thought about the name for a moment, as if he were tasting it. "se Jackie. I am S'reth."

  "A pleasure." Jackie set the egeneh-cup on the arm of her chair and sat forward, her hands folded. "You will really answer all of my questions? No mysticism, no bullshit?"

  Ch'k'te shifted uneasily on his perch and looked across at Jackie.

  S'reth's wing-position changed. "After a lifetime of studying humanity, I believe I can discern what you mean. Yes, I will answer you directly without any, as you say, 'bullshit.' " The obscenity sounded very strange, being expelled from the mouth of a zor. "Where shall I begin?"

  "At the beginning."

  "As you wish. Let me see." S'reth settled on his perch. "It is . . . the wish of the High Lord that you undertake a difficult, perhaps even desperate, mission for the High Nest. Naturally, the High Nest cannot demand this service of you; you are not one of the People. Even the rather clumsy artifice of transferring you to our naval service will not change that biological fact.

  "The mission is the recovery of the gyaryu, the Talon of State for the High Nest. It was taken somehow during the attack on Cicero by the esGa'uYal. It is likely still intact, because our—enemies—would certainly recognize its intrinsic power. If the esGa'uYal were to learn to employ the gyaryu, its use against us would likely be devastating; therefore, the need to recover it is great.

  "The High Lord dreamed that the sword would be lost and then recovered by the greatest warrior of legend: the first Gyaryu'har, Qu'u."

  "The High Lord knew for sure that the sword would be lost?"

  "It was part of the dream, yes."

  "He sent the old man to Cicero, and he knew—"

  "It was part of the dream, se Jackie," S'reth replied, as if that explained everything. "The High Lord knew that it would be taken, and that Qu'u would appear to recover it. One was necessary in order for the other to occur. In this terrible hour, with the peril of t
he esGa'uYal at talon's length, the High Lord believed that we needed the strength of Qu'u to guard us."

  "And they got me instead."

  "The High Lord is mad, se Jackie." Ch'k'te's wings altered position into an unfamiliar pattern and he shifted on his perch at this statement. "But I assure you that your role as Qu'u is neither a disappointment nor a surprise to him. Your presence here is not an accident.

  "You see, in the High Lord's dream, Qu'u had a human face."

  For a moment the image touched off something familiar in Jackie's mind, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

  Ch'k'te's wings changed position again and his talons extended a few centimeters in surprise. This revelation was news to him.

  "Go on," she said, trying hard to restrain her anger. She knew that S'reth was only a messenger, not the cause of the present situation.

  "I sense you are upset, se Jackie. I . must remind you that the High Lord's distress was greater, for he knew what was to happen. He and se Sergei have been friends and brothers for his entire life.

  "It pained him to send the Gyaryu'har to almost certain death. It frightened him to place the gyaryu in the hands of the enemy. But . . . it was part of the dream."

  "Did se Sergei know?"

  "He was a warrior—"

  "I'm a warrior, se S'reth. Are you saying that se Sergei would have willingly walked into the hands of the—the esGa'uYal—and handed over the sword that has been a part of his body and soul for half his life—as a pawn of some damn game of the High Lord's?"

  "se Jackie—" Ch'k'te touched her arm, coming out of a stony silence almost for the first time.

  "se Jackie," S'reth interrupted, "I would hardly classify the fulfillment of the High Lord's prescient dream as a 'game.' "

  "What would you call it?"

  S'reth set his cup on the side table and resettled his wings. They were so thin as to be almost translucent, catching the glow of the indirect lighting behind the disk of esLi on the far wall. "I would call it the seeds of madness."

  "Well, goddamn it, I'm not that mad."

  "But the High Lord still is, se Jackie. And he still dreams . . . and I regret to say that what he dreams is still a prescient vision of the future."

  "What did he dream about Qu'u?"

  "He dreamed that Qu'u would return with the gyaryu, and with it he will hold the esGa'uYal away from the Flight of the People."

  "As it happened in the legend."

  S'reth did not acknowledge her remark, though his wings rose slightly at her comment. "We believe that in order to save the People, and humanity as well, we must follow the legend as closely as possible. The High Chamberlain has determined that you are to be Qu'u. Therefore we must proceed on that basis. Your companion se Ch'k'te must assume the role of Hyos; thus also I will serve in the role of M'hara, who taught Qu'u of the Plain of Despite. There is another role, but no one has filled it as yet: that of E're'a, the spirit-guide. Perhaps someone will come forward."

  Jackie exchanged glances with Ch'k'te.

  "se S'reth, let's assume I'm willing to accept all you've told me so far." She ran a finger along the delicate traceries on her egeneh-cup. "Fine. I'm Qu'u, Ch'k'te is my companion, you're my teacher and I'm supposed to fetch back the gyaryu from the enemy—the vuhls, the esGa'uYal, whatever you choose to call them.

  "Isn't there a practical aspect missing here? The Plain of Despite—I'm willing to accept that it actually exists even though it seems to me that it's part of the dream world, the spirit world. esGa'u exists, but he's part of the same world. In this world, 'the World That Is,' the real enemy has the real gyaryu some where on some planet, probably under heavy guard. When Ch'k'te and I mind-linked with se Sergei back on Cicero, we traveled through the spirit world, while our bodies remained behind. No amount of dreaming will actually retrieve the gyaryu, even if somehow we can use that method to locate it.

  "Aren't we going to have to jump somewhere, sneak our way in, steal back the sword and sneak our way out again?"

  "Of course."

  "And isn't this going to be damn near impossible against aliens who can Dominate minds and who already reamed us both inside and out before we pulled out of Cicero?"

  "Those facts do present an obstacle, yes."

  "An obstacle? An obstacle? Those facts make this operation an impossibility. We can't do it. I—can't do it."

  S'reth didn't answer. Instead he lowered himself carefully to the floor and went to the flagon and refilled his cup. He flew slowly back to his perch, made the same gesture with his talon after dipping it in the cup, and took the cup in a shaking hand and sipped slowly from it.

  "esLiHeYar," he whispered to no one in particular, then continued. "When Qu'u and his companion Hyos left Ne'es Li'e after being released from their duties in guarding the fortress, they traveled many days in the wilderness until they reached a hermitage. They had been told that there they would receive instructions on how to carry out their mission. When they arrived, a message was waiting: Servants of the Deceiver were already abroad, looking for them in particular. Qu'u knew he had been chosen for this special duty but could not see how he could accomplish his mission when he was facing the Lord of Despite, who surely could find him wherever he went.

  "The hermit replied as follows: 'Despite has more enemies than it can count; the true warrior knows but one.'

  "esGa'u did not know who the Lord esLi would choose to perform this task, but that a true warrior would recognize esGa'u or his servants readily enough. It is possible that the esGa'uYal have your scent, se Jackie, but I do not believe it is certain. Just as Qu'u could venture unrecognized onto the Plain of Despite, there is some reason to believe that you might be able to pass behind the shadows and enter alien space without being detected as the avatar of Qu'u. It is how you deal with the situation afterward that should be your concern."

  "se S'reth speaks truly, se Jackie," Ch'k'te said, leaning for ward and then settling his wings. "It is possible that the esGa'uYal that infiltrated Cicero might have been able to provide those on the edge of the system with descriptions of all of the base personnel, but how would they distinguish you and me from the hundreds of others?"

  "We'll be pretty obvious. Really, a human and a zor surrounded by aliens—"

  "If they take prisoners, they will be both naZora'i and People, se Jackie. They captured several starships and at least one fighter craft."

  "We believe the esGa'uYal have retained the prisoners they captured," S'reth said. "You and se Ch'k'te would simply be two more prisoners."

  "Who could have provided them with everything they needed to know." Jackie looked from S'reth to Ch'k'te. "They read minds, remember?"

  "I most certainly do remember." She saw Ch'k'te's talons clench and reached out a hand to touch his arm. Then she froze, noticing that S'reth was paying close attention to the exchange.

  She withdrew her hand and steepled her fingers in her lap. "I suppose that means we go to Sargasso, then."

  "It does seem the logical place to begin," S'reth replied, slowly rocking back and forth on his perch. "It is the entrance to the Plain of Despite."

  ***

  They were quartered across the city from S'reth's home in a high-rise hotel that catered both to zor and humans. Jackie's arrival had been anticipated; she was given a suite that provided human amenities—comfortable couches and chairs, a bed and 'fresher that accommodated her. It also had a shrine to esLi in an alcove with a torus for contemplation and facilities for receiving zor guests. Lighting and the autokitchen accommodated both races.

  Jackie and Ch'k'te returned from their meeting with S'reth weary and not very talkative. Ch'k'te tried to excuse himself to go to his own rooms, but Jackie ordered him directly into her sitting-room, voice-locking the door to the suite behind her.

  The lighting was set for zor eyes; she left her contact lenses in. She settled into an armchair. Ch'k'te ran a talon over one of the hRni'i on the wall and settled onto an extruded perch.

  "Al
l right," she said. "Now we know what's supposed to happen. We're supposed to follow the legend of Qu'u, with me in the starring role. You represent Hyos, who is Qu'u's faithful companion. Is that right, Ch'k'te?"

  "That appears to be the case."

  "And there's even something for old S'reth to do—he's the representation of M'hara the Sage."

  "It does seem to fit the legend."

  "But according to S'reth, we also need E're'a the Spirit Guide. Does anyone come to mind who might represent her?"

  "You are begging the question, Jackie. I am sure se S'reth would reach that conclusion if you had told him that you carry Th'an'ya's hsi. I am also sure that you are not attempting to bring me to a sSurch'a. Where does this line of reasoning lead?"

  "At the Academy, they always taught us that flying solo will get you killed sooner or later. Since I dearly hope to survive this little adventure, I intend to coordinate this little team of ours. That means discussing the plan with all of the team members."

  " . . . All?"

  "All that are going ashore. That means you, me and Th'an'ya. It's time all three of us discussed this."

  Ch'k'te shifted uncomfortably from claw to claw. "As you wish."

  Th'an'ya? Jackie thought, trying to relax her mind into a receptive state.

  I am here.

  We need to talk—all three of us. How can I help you appear? Do you need a mirror, or—

  No such devices are necessary, se Jackie. Let me concentrate through you for a moment.

  Jackie closed her eyes, and then opened them again when she heard Ch'k'te's sharp intake of breath. Th'an'ya, in the same peach-colored robe, holding the same wood staff, appeared before them. She inclined her head to Ch'k'te and bowed slightly to Jackie.

  "se S'reth has suggested we begin our journey by going to I the system where the two vessels disappeared and where Admiral Tolliver apparently went mad. There, it seems, we'll try to assimilate ourselves among other humans and zor, outwit our mind-Dominating, amoral, alien captors, find our way to where they're keeping the gyaryu, steal it out from under their noses and get away without shedding a drop of blood.