Darkwar

by Glen Cook

  The Serke darkship.

  Where?

  She searched, found a line, drove toward the enemy darkship. If she could strike before they recovered….

  They sensed her coming, turned, gained velocity rapidly. Marika swept into their wake, skidding like an aircraft in a tight turn, began gaining, began snapping up stellar landmarks as she went. Those were few indeed. This deep in the cloud only a dozen stars were visible in any direction.

  The Serke ship vanished. Marika fixed its line of flight and a target star and grabbed for the Up-and-Over herself.

  She did not press as hard this time. She guessed she need not strain so to arrive first.

  Correct.

  From that second system, in the dense heartstream of the dust, only three stars were visible. One was that from which Marika had come.

  There was no life in that system. Nor had there ever been any, for the star was a dwarf of a type never associated with planets. Marika scanned star and system only casually. Then she concentrated upon those two farther stars.

  One was a red giant.

  The other was a yellow, like the meth home sun.

  Elation filled her.

  She had sniffed out a hot trail at last.

  She gathered everyone at the axis and had the senior bath pass the silver bowl again. Once everyone had sipped and taken a few moments to relax, she pulled the darkship into the Up-and-Over again and returned the way she had come. Back to the base world.

  Let the Serke think they had eluded her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I

  Bagnel left the wooden darkship at the Hammer. Marika scanned the surrounding void. The Hammer was just one of a dozen huge orbital stations now, and far from the largest. Near space seemed almost uncomfortably crowded. There had been many changes during the years she had been gone. Some she had heard about, of course, but the seeing was nothing like the hearing.

  She wanted to make a pass by the leading trojan, to see her brainchild, but responded to the anxieties of Grauel and Barlog. They had not set foot on the homeworld in nearly seven years. It was time to be attentive to their needs. Time to take the darkship down. The mirror would be there forever.

  Too, the huntresses wanted to move fast, lest some unpleasant welcome be arranged.

  Marika did not arrive ahead of the news of her coming. Bagnel had not been able to keep her return quiet simply because there were meth who had known he was with her. Random touches, mostly unfamiliar, brushed her, curious. She descended toward Ruhaack, ignoring the touches, sending only one of her own ahead, to warn the Reugge cloister that she was coming in.

  Most Senior Bel-Keneke herself came out to meet Marika. Marika fixed her gaze upon the Reugge first chair, ignoring the amused silth studying her wooden darkship and the firearms that she and her companions bore. She tried to read Bel-Keneke.

  She had been gone so long. This would be a changed world, perhaps a different world….

  Assuredly a different world. She could feel the difference. There were new smells in the air, smells of heavy industry, such as had plagued Maksche when the air was still. But Ruhaack was far from any industry. The smell must be everywhere.

  Had it become a world remade in the image of a brethren dream? Had it become what she had battled to avoid, simply because that was what had to be to escape the grasp of the grauken winter?

  She glanced up. The mirror in the leading trojan stood high in the sky, almost too bright for her eyes. Yet the air seemed colder than she remembered.

  Snow lay everywhere. It looked very deep.

  She could not recall what the season should be. She suspected the snow would be there no matter which. Bagnel had said the permafrost line had moved far south of Ruhaack before it halted.

  The silth awaiting her looked thin and haggard. They had not been eating well. So, too, the bonds waiting to handle the darkship. So. How much worse for the run of meth?

  Marika let the darkship drop the last few inches, formally reuniting her with her homeworld. When she stepped down she nearly collapsed. She had pushed herself too hard making the long journey homeward.

  Bel-Keneke greeted her with elaborate honors. Marika returned the greeting formulas, pleased that her stature had not suffered in her absence.

  “Welcome home, far-fared,” Bel-Keneke said, now speaking for herself rather than as the voice of the Community. “We wondered if we would ever see you again. There have been repeated rumors that you had perished in the dark gulf, that you lived on only in legend, that the Redoriad were only pretending you were still alive to keep the warlock and his ilk afraid.”

  “I have gone farther afield than any silth before me, Bel-Keneke. I have seen ten thousand stars and marveled at ten thousand wonders. I can tell ten thousand stories that no one would believe. So. I have come back to the world of ice. I have come home.”

  “You have abandoned the hunt? You have given up? We surely can use your help here.”

  “No, I have not given up. Not exactly. Why would you need my help?”

  “Rogues.”

  “Ah. And my friend Bagnel was convinced no one would want me around, poking my nose into that business. That everyone would be happier were I to stay a legend among the stars.”

  “No doubt there are a great many high silth who would feel that way. Your return is sure to be the topic of discussion in every cloister. It will be searched and researched endlessly for meaning. But I speak only for myself and the Reugge. We are glad to have you here, and we will welcome your help.”

  “Tell me.”

  “That can wait. We are standing in the weather. You have just set foot to earth. You need rest more than you need news.”

  “This is true. Are there quarters for me?”

  “The same as always. They are being cleaned and the heat let in.”

  “Good. Will you attend me there at your earliest convenience? Would that be too much of an imposition?”

  Bel-Keneke blinked, glanced at Grauel, Barlog, and Marika’s bath, none of whom had departed for bath quarters. “I think not.” She was feeling around, trying to recall how one dealt with the wild silth Marika.

  Marika, too, was trying to remember. Seven years she had done without the artificial protocol and ceremonial of homeworld silthdom. Seven years since she had seen Bel-Keneke. Perhaps the most senior no longer felt indebted.

  Marika nodded. “Please do not speculate. To anyone, or even within yourself. I am here. That is enough for now. Let other sisterhoods drive themselves silly trying to figure out what I am about.”

  “Yes.” Bel-Keneke seemed amused. “Will you need anything? Other than your quarters, and food?”

  “A roster of all the current most seniors and ruling councils of all the dark-faring sisterhoods. Eventually, I suppose, the interesting and relevant data on the rogue problem. Though I may not be inclined to help those who have not helped themselves.”

  “I will see to it.” Bel-Keneke blinked some more. “Welcome home, Marika.” She hurried away.

  Marika watched her go, a little puzzled. She had not been able to read Bel-Keneke well. Had she lost the touch while away? Perhaps because she had been with so few meth for so long, and all of them well known?

  Bel-Keneke vanished through a doorway. “Come.” Marika gestured. Grauel, Barlog, and the bath followed her, trying to ignore the stares of the meth in the landing court. That the bath did not go to the bath dormitories would fuel wild speculation, Marika knew. But she doubted anyone would strike on the truth, and to allow them a chance to let that slip seemed a greater risk.

  It was a strain, keeping her eyes open till Bel-Keneke arrived. The others she sent to rest as soon as they had eaten and the workers had been chased from the still frigid apartment. She tossed more wood on the fire, paced before it awhile. She had been on warmer worlds too long.

  Pausing to gaze out the window, she watched a small brethren dirigible drift down and begin unloading firewood and what probably were food stores.
Perhaps she had been unwise to take the old Serke cloister as the new Reugge main cloister. Maybe she should have chosen a site nearer the equator.

  She had to give up. Her eyes refused to remain open. She put still more wood on the fire, then slouched in a chair before it.

  Bel-Keneke’s scratch at the door did not waken her. But the squeak of hinges as she let herself in did. Marika sprang up, rifle swinging to cover the most senior.

  “Oh. I am sorry, mistress,” she apologized. “I dozed, and out there we are accustomed to…”

  “No matter,” Bel-Keneke replied, regaining her composure. “I believe I understand. May I?” She indicated another chair.

  “Of course. Come close. Singe your fur. It is very cold here. Is it winter, or has the weather turned this bad? Or have I just forgotten how bad it was?”

  “It is the heart of winter. The coldest time. But these days the summers are little better. You could have forgotten. I do not recall the winters having been much more harsh when you left. And the mirror meth tell us that from orbit you can see that the project is beginning to have an effect.”

  “My friend Bagnel told me the permafrost line has been halted.”

  “So they say. The energy from the mirrors falls day and night. When both are finished there will be no more night. What will we silth do if we do not have the dark?” She twitched her ears to signify that that was a joke. “I have hopes of seeing another summer before I join my foredams in the embrace of the All.”

  “The project continues well? Asking Bagnel did me no good. He is as determined a pessimist as ever.”

  “Very well. It remains ahead of schedule, more or less. The sisterhoods and brethren remain unified and determined, much to my amazement. If you had asked me when we began I would have said there was no chance there would be any enthusiasm left at this time. But there is. I suppose because those with the training can see positive results. There is, however, that element I mentioned before.”

  “Yes. It is just possible I may have a cure for that. I have come home to…” Marika paused. Some great reluctance held her tongue. It was almost as if some part of her did not want an era to end.

  Bel-Keneke waited expectantly.

  Marika forced it. “I have found them.”

  “The rogues?”

  “The rogues and Serke. Yes.”

  “Why are you here? You have dispatched them?”

  “I have not. It is not something I wish to hazard alone. For many reasons. No. I have come home to ask for a convention. For this I want to gather all the voidfaring darkships of all the Communities.”

  “I was certain you would…”

  “Go after them myself? Perhaps the Serke think the same. I hope so. It will keep them confident that they have not been found out. But I would not try it alone. I am not that wild novice from the Ponath anymore, Bel-Keneke. I have learned to regard consequences. And our enemies are not the Serke of yore. They are not true silth at all anymore.”

  Bel-Keneke did not care to comment. She just sat there toasting her boots, face composed in a mask of neutrality, waiting.

  “Were I to go in alone, and challenge Bestrei alone, and were I to defeat her, still nothing would change. They would not accept the failure. They would destroy me and keep on. They put the old ways, the traditions, the laws, aside long ago, the day TelleRai died. Would the meth who cast down the fire upon TelleRai…”

  “I understand. I do not like it, but I understand. They have backed themselves into a position where they must do what they must to survive.”

  “Then you understand why they must be approached with all the force that can be mustered.”

  “I see it, but I do not think you will win much support. Many of the old starfarers have retired now. They are content working the mirror project. They may be content letting the Serke lie. Those who do venture to the starworlds now are younger. They are not motivated by the hunt. For them, come from here, the grauken is a danger more to be feared than the legendary Serke. I believe times have changed. Though I could be wrong. Certainly there are those of us who do remember, and who still hurt.”

  “We shall see. What I would like, if possible, is a quiet gathering of the most seniors of the dark-faring silth. Those who do remember and who have the power to order done what needs doing. If we move quickly, we can strike before the news reaches the rogues.”

  “You are sure they do not know you have found them?”

  “Only one meth outside my crew knows. And the crew only suspect. And them I intend to keep here in the apartment till decisions are made and action begun.”

  “Who is that one?”

  “You, mistress.”

  Bel-Keneke gave her a strained glance.

  “The story is a simple one. For the past several years I have made my base on a world where we stumbled across evidence that the Serke had once rested a darkship crew. Just recently a Serke darkship, possibly headed here, appeared. We pursued it and it pointed the way, though I allowed the Serke Mistress to believe she had lost me. She was not as strong as I.”

  “They will have defenses, Marika. They know you are hunting.”

  “Of course. That is another reason I do not care to undertake the final move alone. If I am lost, nothing is gained for anyone else.”

  “I will contact the most seniors immediately. I fear I cannot promise much, but I will do my best.” Bel-Keneke passed Marika a large envelope. “These are my comments upon the various most seniors. As you asked. I think, though, that you should rest before you do anything else. You do not look ready to challenge the universe.”

  “I do not feel ready. You are right. I have driven myself hard for a long time. I will rest before I begin studying them. Thank you.”

  “Good. I will return tomorrow, then. I should have a response from the most seniors. I will tell them as little as I can, and what I do tell I will bind with oaths.”

  “Yes. That you must. Though the news will escape soon enough.”

  Bel-Keneke rose and moved toward the door. A few feet short of the exit she halted, turned, looked at Marika oddly.

  “Yes?” Marika asked.

  “A random thought. About how you have become a huntress despite having become silth.”

  “I have had similar thoughts often enough. But what game I stalk. Eh?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  II

  Marika wakened in the night, cold but somehow more comfortable than she had been in years. She had missed being enfolded in the homeworld’s unconscious background of touch. Even the base, with its population of transients, had not become comfortable.

  She entered the room where Grauel and Barlog were sleeping and found them resting peacefully. She studied them in the light cast by the coals in their fireplace, wondering that they had remained with her so long, through so much. She knew they would continue till the All reclaimed them, though it was past time they moved on into the role of the Wise. Both had gone gray. Barlog had lost more spots of fur.

  She considered ordering them to remain behind when she returned to the void. But she knew she would not. She could not, for they would be hurt beyond measure. They were her pack. They were her only true sisterhood. Her loyalties beyond those two attenuated very quickly. And they had none but to her and to a dream of yesterday.

  She went back to the fireplace in the main room, added firewood, settled in her chair. She opened Bel-Keneke’s envelope.

  Few of the names had changed. Death had not been busy during her absence. She wondered what time had done to change those old silth. Attitudes were most important. Had they lost their desire to finish the question of the Serke?

  Attitudes could not be gotten from pieces of paper. Those she would not know till she had faced the meth themselves…. She became restless.

  She missed Bagnel.

  Already? She mocked herself. It had been but hours since their parting.

  For how long this time? Years again? Someho
w, that seemed insupportable.

  She went to the window and stared at endless vistas of white, skeletal in the moonlight. Biter grinned down like a skull, Chaser like something hungry in close pursuit. That was a change, if noticeable only to one who had been gone a long time. There was no permanent overcast.

  She looked past the moons, and all the roving dots of light that had not been there before, in the direction whence she had come. She would be going out there again, soon. And this time she might not come back. Win or lose.

  “How old are you, Bestrei?” she whispered. “Too old? Or still young enough?” Her restlessness increased. Finally she could stand it no more.

  She went to the cabinet where she had stored her saddleship in times long gone, times that seemed to belong to another’s past. Who had that been, that pup-silth who had drawn a bloody paw across the face of the world?

  The saddleship was there still, ready for assembly. It had not been touched. She brushed dust from her personal witch signs.

  She considered only a moment more.

  The outside air was more bitter than she remembered. She ignored the chill, drifting above the rooftops of Ruhaack, between pillars of smoke, looking longingly on winter-bound streets where nothing moved.

  An occasional curious touch brushed her and departed satisfied. Her presence was accepted. She was home.

  She was pleased. They were alert, for all that they could not be seen.

  Where was Kublin now? What was he thinking? He must have had word of her return by this time. Could he guess its significance? Would his rogues react?

  She should let it be whispered that she had come home to break their backs again. They would believe it. Kublin the warlock would believe it. He was mad. He feared her. Feared her as he feared nothing else, for he knew that he had strained her mercy beyond endurance.

  They all feared her. For them she was the grauken, the stalker of the night without mercy, without pity. She was the hunger that would devour them all.

  The rogue problem had been of great concern to Bagnel. She ought to examine it while she was here. Ought to get back into touch with it. Perhaps she could again find a fresh approach that would give these earthbound silth a novel way to defend themselves while she hunted down the ultimate authors of the dissatisfaction that produced the rogues.