by Ehsan Ahmad
Gripping the edges of the light tightly, Sonus pried it free and laid it on the ground beside him. He glanced over his shoulder and spied the two guards standing near the front of the freighter. They were covering their ears, seemingly listening to their communicators. One of them said something to the other, and it seemed to Sonus that they were both looking at him.
They set off at marching pace—but not in his direction, toward the tower.
Sonus unscrewed the top of the light. He was about to examine it when a stone struck the ground and bounced off his foot. He looked around. A Lovirr was crouching behind one of the freighter’s rear landing struts. He beckoned to Sonus.
Having checked he wasn’t being watched, Sonus walked as casually as he could over to the strut. By standing close to the stranger, he could remain well hidden. From above came a series of thuds and thumps as the loading continued.
The Lovirr was perhaps a bit younger than Toroda, also a little larger. He offered his hand, which Sonus shook.
“Name’s Nomora.”
“Sonus.”
“I know. I hear you’re a curious man.”
Sonus wasn’t sure how to respond or whether he even should. What if Toroda had told him of his request? No tribe on Corvos had worked more closely with the Vitaari than the Lovirr. What if he was an informer?”
“Yes,” added Nomora, whose accent was clearer than his compatriot’s. “He told me. Toroda is not a curious man. Nor one to take risks. But he knows I am, and he is not entirely unsympathetic to what I do. We can trust him, and you can trust me.”
Sonus knew he had little choice other than to do so. “Exactly what risks do you take?”
“I talk. I share information.” Nomora gestured up at the ship. “I am in a good position to do so.”
“There are more of you?”
“A few. We cannot tarry here long, Sonus. Tell me what you need to know.”
“Are there free people out there? Anywhere?”
“Some, yes.”
“Rebels?”
“That’s not a word we use. For now we talk, and we watch, and we wait.”
“What if I wanted to get something to them? Could you make that happen?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m told you are very intelligent—that you understand more about the Vitaari machines even than we Lovirr. That knowledge is of great value. Tell me precisely what you require.”
Sonus didn’t know how long he had. Qari could be discovered at any time, and he could not know when he might be able to meet the Lovirr again. He told Nomora what he needed.
“That will be difficult. Very difficult. We will need a lot in return.”
Sonus nodded. “Such as?”
“We will need you.”
9
Cerrin sat against the cavern wall, well away from the glare of the artificial lights. The biscuits had run out long ago, and she was back on Vitaari rations. Today’s midday delight came in a small transparent bag—a thick soup-like liquid that had to be squeezed out. It tasted entirely unnatural, but Cerrin was so hungry that she finished it quickly.
She was alone. The other women took their break in the tunnel where the air was a little fresher. It had been made clear that she was not welcome to join them. They somehow knew she had been on the trip with Yeterris and Talazeer, and the very mention of the Count’s name was enough to terrify them. As if her attempted escapes hadn’t made things bad enough, she was now even more isolated. At least Dukas had stopped pestering her.
As she tried to wash the non-taste away with water, young Yarni trotted into the cavern. She held out her hand, and Cerrin passed her the empty bag. Yarni took it and put it in the sack she was carrying. She glanced toward the tunnel to check no one was watching, then abruptly sat down.
“Why does everyone always talk about you?”
“Good question.”
Yarni’s feet were only an inch or two from Cerrin’s, who moved hers away.
“Did you try and escape again?”
“No.”
“What happened then?”
Cerrin only answered because she hoped the truth might get through to the women and the other workers.
“The governor asked me to go along on a trip because I know about the forest. That’s all.”
“But you didn’t try to escape?”
“No.”
Yarni seemed disappointed.
“Not this time,” added Cerrin with a grin.
“Is it true that you almost got across the river—the time before?”
“Almost.” Cerrin was surprised by how much it hurt to say that.
“We lived by a river,” said Yarni. She was a pretty girl with long, curly hair and intelligent eyes.
“Before? You can remember it?”
Yarni nodded.
“Do you speak any Echobe?”
“A few words.”
“Where did you live?
“Very far away. My father told me that no one from our tribe had ever seen the Empty Lands.”
Cerrin knew that both of the girl’s parents were gone; that was why the women were so protective toward her. “Do you remember the forest?”
Yarni thought about this for a moment, then shrugged.
“That’s why I went with them,” said Cerrin. “Just to spend some time there.”
“My aunt says it’s quiet. Here it’s always noisy.”
“She’s right.”
“My mother and father are there. They walk through the forest with the ancients and the other shades.”
Cerrin’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Yes.”
“My aunt says I shouldn’t say this but… sometimes I wish I was with them.”
Without thinking, Cerrin leaned forward and gripped her hand. “No. You are young, Yarni. Young and strong. You will not join them. Not now. Not for a long time.”
When the child pulled away, Cerrin realized she had scared her.
She reached out and this time held both her hands. “But I will show you the forest. We will go there together one day.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Later that afternoon, she was called out of the line by Stripe, who explained that Yeterris wanted to speak to her. He escorted her to the tower and spoke most of the way. By the time they arrived, he’d asked her in five different ways what exactly had happened in the forest with Talazeer and the damareus. Cerrin didn’t say a word.
She had never been up to the top of the tower before. With the hulking Stripe—now silent—behind her, she felt her stomach churn as the elevator zoomed upward, far faster than the ones they used in the mine.
When the doors opened, she was surprised by how few Vitaari were there. Four administrators sat in front of large displays, some of which showed different parts of the mine. Though Cerrin had occasionally seen such images on the data-pads, this was just another thing she could not comprehend—to watch something without being there?
When the Echobe had first witnessed what the Vitaari possessed, people had spoken about magic. But it was not magic the invaders depended on; it was their machines. They had machines to watch, machines to move, machines to talk to each other, and machines to kill. Cerrin sometimes looked at their silvery skin and lifeless faces and wondered if they were machines underneath, too. But though she had never seen black blood run herself, others had. She found the thought of it vaguely comforting: anything that bleeds can be killed.
The administrators had all turned around to look at her.
“This way.” Grabbing a handful of her overalls, Stripe shoved her to the right and toward a smaller room. The door was open, and inside stood Governor Yeterris. He was standing over a large table, peering down at his own screen.
Noting the new arrivals, he touched the translator. “Ah. Cerrin
. Come in.”
Stripe pushed her forward but remained outside the doorway.
Yeterris ran a finger across the screen. It was set up on the table at an angle so Cerrin couldn’t see what it showed.
What she could see was the grassy plain beyond the compound’s northern wall. Like Yarni, she knew little of the Empty Lands; the thought of the endless, featureless terrain chilled her. Palanians and Kinassans and the other tribes felt the same way about the Great Forest.
“Yes,” said the governor. “It is a fine view.”
He wandered over to another table and poured himself a drink from an intricately carved bottle. The liquid was red. He sipped at it, then went to sit in a high-backed chair.
Cerrin glanced at a map upon the wall to her right. One part showed the surface of the installation, the other the mine itself: complete with all the tunnels and caverns. Cerrin had a picture of both in her head and reckoned they were as good as any map.
“You’re probably thinking we need you for another scouting trip.” Yeterris adjusted the folds of his tunic. “We may at some point, but not yet. The findings from the site are still being analyzed; I’m not sure if we will proceed or not. But yesterday I spoke to Count Talazeer. He needs your help with a project of his. Come here.”
Cerrin walked around the table. The governor moved his chair forward so he was closer to her and nodded at the screen. The display was divided into eight: each section showing a creature from the forest. Cerrin recognized all of them.
“Nothing as large or dangerous as those monstrous yellow things. And as I understand it, they can all be found relatively close to here.”
The Count aimed a finger at the screen. “Touch one. Any one.”
Cerrin chose a picture of the sesskar—a large rodent noted mainly for its two tails. The change caused by her touch made her take a step back.
Yeterris snorted.
The whole screen had changed to show a larger image of the sesskar. Vitaari writing had appeared beside it, and various arrows pointed to different parts of the creature.
“A small team will be assigned to help you collect the animals.”
Cerrin was confused.
“I thought you’d be happy,” added the governor as she turned toward him. “More time in your beloved forest. You can start tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Count Talazeer wants the animals for his menagerie—a collection of live beasts. People like to see anything exotic—the Count wishes to impress his guests back home with something they haven’t seen before. I’m sure he will give you all the time you need. It seems he was rather impressed by the way you evaded that creature. I will have to send some guards with you, of course, but I’m sure you won’t make any trouble while working for the Count.”
She shook her head.
“Good.”
“No, sir. I can’t do it.”
“What? Why?”
She thought it best to be honest. “The others. They used to hate me because I tried to escape. Now they hate me because I help you. I can’t do this as well.”
“I am not offering you a choice, Cerrin.”
“Governor, I have to live with these people.”
“Girl, they are nothing compared to you. They do not have your… spirit.”
“Please. I really would prefer not to do it.”
“Come closer.”
Cerrin took only one step. Yeterris sipped his drink and spoke quietly. “The guard outside. I do not particularly like him. But for a man in my position, he does have his uses. If I so wish, I need not waste a single breath on attempting to persuade you. We both know that. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, Governor.”
“I daresay you think me cruel.”
She knew better than to reply to that.
“But the truth is, Cerrin—I’m the best friend you have.”
“Well?”
Administrator Danysaan looked even more uncomfortable and anxious than usual. He cast a glance back at what had once been his office and shook his head. “Yield increases are still not enough. He asks the impossible.’
Clearly not in the mood for further conversation, Danysaan hurried away and could soon be heard calling for his deputy Rasikaar.
Glad he had been strong enough not to indulge himself in narcotic relief the previous night, Vellerik entered the office. As the door slid shut behind him, he once again found himself face-to-face with Marl. The Drellen was more interested in his sword; he was leaning against a wall and sharpening the edge with some kind of stone.
“Interesting encounter in the forest?” asked Vellerik.
“Not all that interesting,” replied Marl. “I heard you’ve been killing natives. Or… not killing them. I know that Vitaari get soft in their old age, but I hadn’t expected it of a former legionary.”
Vellerik nodded at the stone. “That might be better used on your wit.”
Talazeer strode out of an anteroom. “I must say you two are rather entertaining, but there are more pressing matters to attend to. Come, Vellerik.”
He led him back through the door into what had now been trans-formed into his quarters. Garments were strewn across a large bed and a hunting gun lay on the floor, partly disassembled. Half of the largest wall screen showed an unlikely-looking creature with three curved tusks. The other half showed frozen footage from Vellerik’s encounter with the Batal.
Talazeer waved a hand at the screen. “My uncle killed one of those on Sasalanga Prime. It weighs over three thousand kilos, would you believe? Unfortunately, the damareus is somewhat lighter. However—” The Count held up a finger. “It is longer. By several centimeters. We will need an expert taxidermist, of course, but it’s already frozen—should thaw out in decent condition.”
Talazeer rubbed his chin. “I… I was reluctant to call you in, Erasmer.”
Vellerik wasn’t sure the use of his first name boded well.
Talazeer pointed at the other half of the screen. “We could watch it all, of course, but I don’t really see the need. I think you know what I will say.”
Vellerik could have played along, but he realized he was beginning to hate this young man. “Sir?”
“You wish me to spell it out?”
“Sorry, sir, I’m not sure what you mean.”
“There were, what, fifty of these… Batal?”
“About forty, I think.”
“You killed only eight. I would have left only eight alive—just enough to tell the others. And disruptors? Not much of a spectacle.”
“I didn’t realize I was there to create a spectacle, sir.”
“You were there to stop these attacks. Every time the guards have to go out or your squad has to fly down, it costs. The Fleet needs the material, but it is the Resource Directorate that funds this operation. As well as improving production, I must keep expenditure down. Who’s to say these bloody primitives might not return and cost me even more?”
“As far as I know, there have been no further sightings, sir.”
“Not yet, Vellerik. Not yet.” Talazeer let out a long breath. “This is the last thing I wanted. Please let me clear, I am not questioning your judgment. But I have certain targets in mind, and I must rule in a certain way. The incident with the assassin, now this? We must be strong, Erasmer. Hard.”
The Count paced around, wringing his hands. “I would hope to avoid any further such conversations. I feel awkward even now.” He smiled. “I do so respect you, Captain. Please tell me I will not have to feel awkward again.”
Vellerik wondered: was this strange, arrogant noble as bad as he seemed or was it him? Hadn’t he seen worse, done worse, many times before? Perhaps he was just too old.
It didn’t really matter: the message was clear. If he defied Talazeer again, he might be removed from command. The shame would be intolerable—for him, for his family, even for Seevarta. He had been stupid to play these
games. Stupid and unrealistic. He knew how The Domain worked. He just had to keep his head down, do as he was told, complete his last year; get out.
“You will not, sir. I assure you. It’s just that I have seen how a strict approach can occasionally be counterproductive. Sometimes a strong response simply fans the flames. But you are right. The decisions are yours. I will do as you ask.”
Three hours later, Vellerik received a message from Kerreslaa that made him suspect the Count had known what was coming. But when he met the liaison officer in a quiet briefing room, Kerreslaa’s panicked appearance and shaky voice convinced him that he had not been conspiring with his superior. In fact, Kerreslaa quickly disclosed that he didn’t really want to involve Talazeer at all.
“He will be angry, Captain. My initial report stated that there was no activity to concern us in the south.”
“I thought there wasn’t.”
Kerreslaa gestured to the only active screen in the room, which showed a map of the southern sector. Vellerik was not familiar with the terrain, but he knew the Kinassans—the tough, nomadic people who occupied the south of Corvos’s single continent—had been the most troublesome resistors during the invasion eighteen years ago; eventually, an Imperial Legion battalion had been brought in to subdue them.
The remaining Kinassans had withdrawn, leaving the Vitaari to construct three mines. Without a local workforce, they had been forced to bring in laborers from other areas who simply wilted in the heat. When the extreme climate began to also have an impact on their machinery, the Resource Directorate decided to cut their losses and abandon the desert. Rumors occasionally surfaced of movement in the southern sector—from the mines closest to it—but no one had actually seen a Kinassan in five years.
Kerreslaa pointed to Mine Seven, which was the southernmost of the occupied installations. “Governor Fedriss has received some alarming reports since we visited with the Count several weeks ago.”
