by Timothy Zahn
Akim chuckled. "Yes; the soft decadence of a convalescent's life. Don't worry—I'm sure you'll readapt to real life soon enough."
"We can make a contest of it, you and I," Daulo offered. "I noticed you also needed to get up once or twice during the night to stretch your muscles."
Akim's eyes narrowed slightly. "You saw me leave?" he asked, an odd tone to his voice. "When?"
"It was a little after midnight," Daulo said, wondering if he should have lied, or perhaps said that it might have been just a dream. Too late now. "You said something to the Djinni standing guard at the western opening, then slipped out."
"And the second time?"
Daulo frowned. "The second time?"
"You said I left once or twice," Akim reminded him. "When was the second time?"
Daulo frowned. Had he said Akim had left twice? He must have. So what exactly had he meant by that? "I think I woke up again a little before dawn and saw you come in," he said slowly, trying to sort through the images, dreams, and half-dreams from the long night. "I just assumed you were coming back from another walk, that you hadn't been gone that whole time. Should I have not said anything?"
For a moment Akim gazed into his eyes, perhaps trying to discern whether or not Daulo was leaving anything out. Then, his lip twitched. "No, that's all right," he said. "But keep this between us, and don't tell any of the others." He looked significantly over at the glowering Haafiz. "Any of the others."
"I won't," Daulo promised.
"Good." Akim gestured at the food and water in Daulo's hands. "Then eat up, and prepare yourself for travel. We still have a good fifteen kilometers to go before we reach safety."
The road to Windloom and the villages beyond had been reasonably well maintained. But it was hardly up to the standards of the Great Arc's major roads, and Daulo's wheelchair bounced and bucked on the uneven surface as the group made their way along it. Occasionally they hit a patch that was rougher than usual, or else pockmarked with pits and potholes, which the wheelchair simply couldn't navigate. At those spots Daulo was obliged to get up and hobble across with the assistance of one of the Djinn while a second carried the chair.
But at least the forest predators seemed to be leaving them alone. That was something to be grateful for.
They'd been traveling for three hours, and Daulo was wondering if he should just give up on the chair for a while and see how far he could get on foot when he spotted the shadowy figures silently pacing them through the forest on both sides.
His first panicked thought was that they'd hit a pack of razorarms or some other predators. But the figures seemed to be maintaining their distance, making no effort to either leave or move closer. He kept watching, and a minute later one of them crossed a better-lit section of the woods, and Daulo saw to his relief that it was just a man. A group of villagers, then.
But if they had come out to escort the newcomers into Wind-loom, why were they skulking out in the woods instead of joining the refugees on the road? And if they were out here for logging or hunting, why were they bothering to pace the visitors at all?
Daulo was still turning the question over in his mind when Akim cleared his throat. "The village should be just around the next bend in the road," he told the rest of the travelers. "You can expect us to be challenged at the gate and our belongings searched."
"Searched?" Haafiz demanded, his eyes widening with outrage. "On whose authority do villagers search a Shahni of Qasama?"
"It's not because you're a Shahni," Akim said hastily. "It's merely the fact that we're city dwellers."
"City dwellers whom they dislike?" Haafiz growled, turning his glare onto Daulo. "Is that it, villager? They hate us?"
Wincing, Daulo searched frantically for a diplomatic response. Fortunately, Akim was already on it. "It's not hatred, Your Excellency, but distrust," he said. "With the fall of Sollas they fear a flood of refugees who will severely overtax their resources. More than that, they fear those refugees may bring in weapons or illegal substances that will pose a threat to their people."
Haafiz snorted. "More likely they hope to find medicines or food they can steal."
"That could also be the case," Akim conceded. "In addition, there are rumors that some city dwellers have made devil's bargains with the invaders. They thus also fear the infiltration of spies and saboteurs."
"Ridiculous," Haafiz bit out. "No Qasaman would make such a bargain." His eyes narrowed as he turned his glare onto Omnathi. "Unless you speak of the bargain made with the demon warriors Jin Moreau and her son. That pact may prove even more of a disaster for the Qasaman people than the alien invasion itself."
"Yet the Shahni did approve the sending of Jin Moreau back to her people for aid," Omnathi pointed out calmly.
"At your instigation," Haafiz retorted. "Even then, you had authorization from only three. The rest of us weren't even consulted."
"I had the approval of all who were present," Omnathi said. "That's the law."
"No, that's an excuse." Haafiz flicked his hand in an ancient gesture of challenge that Daulo had never seen anyone use in real life. "And rest assured that I shall deal with those Shahni once the invaders have been pushed forever off Qasama."
"There was no time for further consultation, Your Excellency," Omnathi said. "You in particular were in another part of the subcity, and all efforts to find you failed."
"So you say," Haafiz said. "We shall see. If those three Shahni survive this war, I'll gladly take the judgment seat at their trial for treason." He raised his eyebrows. "As I'll also gladly sit in judgment at your trial on those same charges."
Daulo stared at them, a fresh wave of disbelief washing over him. Moffren Omnathi, venerated hero of Qasama, under suspicion of treason? How could anyone, especially one of the Shahni, even think such a thing?
"The future is in its own hands," Akim said. "And if I may say so, Shahni Haafiz, this is neither the time nor the place for such discussions. Windloom and sanctuary lie directly ahead of us. We should continue on."
"You may continue on," Haafiz said. "But my part of this journey is at an end."
For the first time since they'd left the Sollas subcity Akim actually seemed taken aback. "What?" he asked.
"I'm leaving." Haafiz gestured around him at the silent Djinn. "The Djinn will accompany me back to the main road. We go to Tazreel and from there to Purma."
"You can't be serious, Your Excellency," Akim said. "We've been over this."
"And I've reconsidered," Haafiz said. "Whatever this haven is that you spoke of, it's now abundantly clear that it's too far out of the main stream of activity to be of any use to me."
"But the cities aren't safe for you," Akim persisted.
"Nowhere on Qasama is safe," Haafiz said. "At least in Purma I'll be able to lead my people."
"You can't," Akim insisted.
Haafiz's eyes narrowed. "Are you now of the Shahni, that you presume to dictate another Shahni's choice of path? Or do you merely presume to circumvent Shahni rule as does Moffren Omnathi?"
Akim flashed Omnathi a look. "But you agreed to come here, Your Excellency."
"I agreed to allow you to offer the protection of the Djinn to an injured village leader," Haafiz countered. "Daulo Sammon is now as safe as it's possible for him to be on Qasama. I now choose to move on."
"But you also must be protected," Akim insisted. "Back in the Great Arc is where the invaders are the strongest."
"Back in the Great Arc is also where any Shahni still alive and free will have gathered," Haafiz countered. "There are rendezvous and communication points in Purma that have been established for this situation. With no ground communications and no radio, I must physically travel there to learn whether others have survived or whether I alone now lead the Qasaman people."
"Let me instead send my Djinn," Akim offered. "They can assess the situation and return with that news."
"While I meanwhile sit uselessly in the middle of the forest?" Haafiz shook his head. "No.
"
"At least come to Windloom long enough for some proper food and rest," Omnathi said. "I'm certain that Daulo Sammon, as a fellow villager, will use his full influence to make sure you aren't searched or otherwise mistreated."
"Of course," Daulo said, wondering if Omnathi realized how little influence he was likely to have here. Unless some of the metalwork artists he'd dealt with all those years ago had managed to become Windloom's leaders, he would be lucky if anyone here even remembered him.
"Then it's settled," Akim said. "We'll go to Windloom, rest, and take some refreshment. Then, if you still want to go to Purma, you and the Djinn can go with proper equipment and provisions."
Haafiz studied Akim's face. "Very well," he said at last. "An hour, no more, and I leave. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Akim said.
With a loud sniff, Haafiz strode away, passing Akim and Omnathi as he continued down the road. Akim flicked an unreadable look at Daulo, then turned and hurried to catch up.
Daulo's memories of Windloom were several years old. But like Milika, the village hadn't changed appreciably in that time. The outer wall looked just the way he remembered it, though he was pretty sure the gate's hinges had been replaced recently. Most of the buildings clustered together inside the wall had the look of comfortable permanence about them, the same look he'd seen in many of these older Qasaman settlements.
But while the village itself had remained largely unchanged, the villagers had not. The last time Daulo had been here the people had been cautiously welcoming, the typical attitude of people living not far from a major city whose inhabitants looked down on them even while they were buying their goods. Now, though, there was no friendliness in the men at the gate. They were cold and aloof, their questions brusque and suspicious. And all of them carried rifles or sidearms.
As Daulo had privately predicted, he had no influence whatsoever with the guards. But Omnathi's name seemed to carry some weight, and he was able to convince them that Shahni Haafiz should be exempt from any search. The others of the group weren't so lucky, or perhaps weren't so intimidating, and went through the full procedure. Even Daulo's wheelchair was taken away for closer examination, leaving him once again hobbling with Djinni assistance.
Fortunately, he didn't have to hobble very far. Two of the guards escorted them to a house near the gate, where one of them set out food and water while the other headed off with Akim through the narrow streets to meet with the village's leaders.
Daulo was working his way through a second dried meat ring, watching Omnathi and Haafiz studiously not speaking to each other and feeling extremely uncomfortable about it, when Akim and one of the village leaders returned.
And they weren't alone. Flanking them were four more armed men.
"Finally," Haafiz growled, glowering briefly at Akim and then turning his attention to the villagers. "Have you prepared the provisions for my journey to Purma?"
"I regret, Your Excellency, that there will be no such journey," Akim said, his voice tight. "Not for you or anyone else."
"What?" Haafiz demanded. "Marid Akim—"
"Because this was found beneath Daulo Sammon's wheelchair, attached to the front of the carrier bag." Akim held out a slender cylinder about thirteen centimeters long and three in diameter. "It's a radio."
Daulo felt his stomach tighten, peripherally aware that all eyes had turned toward him. Everyone in the room, probably everyone in Windloom, knew that the invaders' weapons were keyed to home in on Qasaman radio transmissions. Even through the hazy memories of his recovery in the subcity he had a vivid image of men coming through the hospital collecting all radio transmitters and other wireless equipment and emphasizing that the use of such instruments could bring death and destruction down on them all. "That isn't mine," he said, striving to keep his voice calm. "It's not even my wheelchair—it was assigned to me in Sollas."
"It doesn't look like any radio I've ever seen," Haafiz said, his eyes flicking between the cylinder and Daulo.
"It's a Djinni field radio," Akim told him. "One of those that were being experimented on in hopes of making them undetectable to the invaders."
"Were the experiments successful?" Haafiz asked.
Akim snorted. "Would we be talking about letting you walk all the way to Purma if they'd been successful?" he countered. "More significant even than the radio, though, is the name of one of the men who worked on that project." He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Fadil Sammon, son of Daulo Sammon."
Daulo felt his mouth drop open. Fadil, on a secret high-tech project?
But that was impossible. Fadil was intelligent enough, and dealing with the radios they used in the family mine had given him a working knowledge of the theory and hardware involved. But he didn't have nearly the expertise that Akim would have needed for such work.
Omnathi wasn't buying it, either. "Your logic is tenuous," he rumbled. "Daulo Sammon has been in the Sollas subcity since the first attack, while Fadil Sammon is... elsewhere. How could the son have delivered a radio to the father?"
"I don't know," Akim said. "The more intriguing question for me is why he would send it to him."
And suddenly, with a rush of fear and horror, the answer slapped Daulo hard across the face. The only way Fadil could have become smart enough to join such a high-level project—"You son of a venomous snake," he snarled, his eyes boring into Akim's face. "What poisons did you pump into his blood?"
"I gave him precisely what he asked for," Akim said, his voice and expression carved from midwinter ice. "And it was at his request. He volunteered himself to be part of the project."
"You lie," Daulo bit out, an agony of fire filling his lungs. He'd heard whispers about these secret drugs, chemicals that could temporarily enhance creativity and intelligence to an astonishing degree. But their aftereffects were the stuff of fever nightmares. "What did you do to him? Where is he?"
"Your son's condition and location are not the point, Daulo Sammon," Akim said. "The point is whether—"
"God damn you all to hell!" Daulo exploded, leaping to his feet and sending his chair crashing to the floor behind him. "Where is my son?"
"He's at your home in Milika," Akim said. He hadn't even twitched at Daulo's outburst. "I'm afraid he's been paralyzed. I'm sorry."
For a long moment Daulo just stared at him, feeling the blood drain from his face and the strength fade from his legs and body as his mind tried to wrap itself around Akim's words. His son, paralyzed? "No," he whispered. "Please, God. No."
"I'm sorry," Akim said again.
"We mourn your loss," Omnathi said in a voice that reeked of suspicion and impatience and had not a drop of genuine mourning that Daulo could detect. "Now sit down."
One of the Djinn stepped behind Daulo and set his chair up again. Slowly, Daulo sank back into it. "Because the point, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi continued, "is not what the drugs have done to your son, but what your son may have done to Qasama."
Daulo shook his head tiredly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"He's talking about the radio," Akim said. "Why it's here, and whether you've used it to communicate with the invaders.
"And whether you or your son has committed treason."
The word took several heartbeats to register through the frozen turmoil in Daulo's brain. Then, like the flash of a cutting torch, it abruptly sliced though the swirling emotions. "What did you say?" he demanded. "Treason? You can't possibly believe that."
"My beliefs are irrelevant," Akim said. "It will be the facts that ultimately define reality."
Daulo stared at him, then looked at Omnathi. They were serious. God above, they were actually serious. "This is insane," he said, hearing the quaver in his voice but unable to suppress it. "I was nearly killed defending my world and my people. My son is now trapped in a living death for doing likewise. How can you possibly think such things about us?"
"How can this radio have come into your possession?" Omnathi countered. "There are facts here which m
ust be brought into the light."
Daulo raised his head a little higher. "Then assemble your facts. Advisor Omnathi," he said. "I don't fear the truth. Bring your facts into the light, and allow me to face them."
"After you've set me on my way to Purma," Haafiz said, standing up. "If there's treason here, there's even more reason for me to quickly make my way elsewhere."
"Elsewhere, certainly," Akim said. "But not to Purma. Without knowing what Daulo Sammon may or may not have told the invaders, we cannot risk you traveling to any place we've spoken of during our journey. The invaders may be even now setting a trap for you there."
"Did you mention Windloom in his hearing?" the village leader put in. "If so, you can't stay here, either."
"Agreed," Akim said. "But we shouldn't need to go far. I'm told there's a quarantine cabin half a kilometer into the forest to the west."
"That's correct," the villager said doubtfully. "But it hasn't been used in years. I can't make any promises for its comfort or even its structural soundness."
"Whatever its condition, we'll make it do," Akim assured him. "Can you provide us with two weeks' worth of food and water?"
"Two weeks?" Haafiz echoed. "We're speaking of a summary trial, Marid Akim, not something long and involved. I can't be away from Qasama that long."
"This is Qasama," the villager said, an edge to his voice.
"I mean the real Qasama," Haafiz retorted, not even wasting a glare on the man. "The Qasama the invaders are conquering and destroying. The Qasama that's worth conquering and destroying."
"I understand your wish to return to the main theater of war, Your Excellency," Akim said hastily. "But I'm afraid the delay can't be avoided. We need to bring Fadil Sammon here to testify as to his part in this, and even for Djinn a journey to Milika through forested lands will take at least a week in each direction."
"And thus you rob me even of knowledge," Haafiz growled.
Akim frowned. "I don't understand."
"If you send the Djinn to fetch Fadil Sammon, they can't also go to Purma to learn what the invaders are doing," Haafiz reminded him.
