Planet Walkers

by A. V. Shackleton

  “Ah, yes,” he muttered to himself. “The yellow moss and the strap-trees … synchronous reproduction linked by a pheromone.” He blew to dislodge a gnat from his lips and drew a line on the parchment sheet. “But there seems to be a connection between the moss and the slugs and the fungal gardens. Are strap trees part of their cycle too?”

  With a sigh, he plunged his senses back into the local biome. Once more, the vibrations of the area filtered through his mind and he sifted through their myriad small songs, searching for links and correlations.

  Shamkarun Huldar! The Overlord’s call jangled him from his study. It came from the direction of their campsite.

  Huldar groaned. “And the song unmissed returns,” he muttered. “What does he want?”

  With great reluctance, he released the last shreds of connection, then, brushing leaves and dirt from his clothes, made his way to the nearby portal and stepped through.

  Duvät Gok faced him with his back to the hearth. His arms were folded. One foot tapped the ground. Gento hovered by the fire, unsure whether he should stay and continue preparations for their evening meal, or make a hasty exit.

  Huldar tipped his head toward the door. Gento bowed and hurried away.

  “It is time to move,” Duvät announced. “We have been detained on this continent for long enough.”

  Huldar frowned. “The east is still frozen.”

  The Overlord shrugged. “It was cold here when we arrived, and we all survived.”

  “But I haven’t finished my assessment,” Huldar said. “There are several key relationships I have yet to decipher, and I’m sure you won’t be happy with an incomplete report.”

  “Then work faster.”

  “The planet cannot be hurried!” Huldar frowned slightly. “The thaw is just beginning. I assess as factors unfold,” he said, “as you know. How can it be otherwise?”

  “You’re the ecologist. You tell me!”

  Although the Overlord was often overbearing, on past assignments his decisions had not been so capricious, and again it seemed he was in no mood to be reasoned with. Huldar shook his head and tried to think of a compromise. “Very well,” he said at last. “It’s possible I could finish this initial segment of my study within ten days.”

  “Five.”

  “Within ten days,” Huldar continued smoothly. “Then I will assess the progress of the Eastern Continental thaw.”

  “Assess all you want.” The Overlord scowled. “We’re leaving.”

  Fatigue spun behind Huldar’s eyes. He felt his anger rising, but was incapable of quashing it. “I am a leader in my field,” he snapped. “The best you’ll get. It will take ten days, no less!” He battled to keep his veil smooth. “This reef of gold is an important find. The Guild will expect a thorough impact assessment over the entire time of the thaw before they can even begin to think about the possibility of a mine. I don’t understand the hurry.”

  Duvät’s chin jutted. He pulled himself up to his full height, roughly level with Huldar’s nose. “I am the Overlord,” he said haughtily. “The Imperial representative. You are of House Leth, second of a minor lineage – where I am of House Tiamät, the Imperial House and First of my family. My grandfather is related to the uncle of the Kaskarudjan Kariiel Enna. My ancestry may be traced to the Empress Ishiquel Enna herself!” He paused to draw breath. Unseemly anger oozed from his every pore, but Huldar sensed an oddness to it – even desperation.

  “I am Overlord!” Duvät said again. “You will do as I say.”

  Huldar steeled himself. It would be impolite to show anything but absolute calm, but despite this, he couldn’t help leaning forward just a little. “And I am team leader … responsible for our safety,” he flicked his finger between the two of them, “yours and ours. You know the protocols as well as I do. Accordingly, if I deem the move to the east ill advised, we will not go.”

  “Then deem it wise!” Duvät snarled. He turned and stormed to the exit, almost tripping over the rug. “Ten days!”

  There was a flutter of wings as Gento hurried a slug from his path.

  Huldar found his teeth clamped together so hard he had to make a conscious effort to relax his jaw.

  Gento peeped around the door-flap. “What’s wrong with him?”

  They looked around as Nachiel came in. “I saw him wandering up and down as if he was looking for something,” he said. “I don’t think he found it. Put him in such a mood!”

  “He wants us to go the Eastern Continent, even though we know it’s still frozen,” Gento said.

  “Why would he want that?” said Nachiel. “We’ll all be killed!”

  Huldar shook his head. “Ten days, I told him.”

  “But it’s your decision, Shamkarun Huldar,” Nachiel said. “He might be the Imperial representative, but you have the say in this. Guild rules.” He paused, then recited, “If the team leader deems that a direction of the Overlord unduly threatens the safety of the team, the team leader will advise the Overlord of the situation and the Overlord will defer to the team leader’s decision … Well, that’s more or less what it says.”

  “Guild rules,” echoed Gento.

  Sounds of the forest filtered in as Huldar tried to think. He picked up a stick and fed it to the flames. “We’ll do what we can to finish up here,” he said at last, “then I’ll go to the Eastern Continent as I said I would and see if there is anywhere we can survive.”

  “And if there’s not?” Nachiel asked.

  A cloud of sparks crackled from the fire as Huldar jabbed the stick into the coals. “We stay here until there is.”

  He had meant to visit Casco tomorrow. Andel was entrenched in determining the extent of a tin deposit, and he and Cobar were supporting her. He’d hoped to spend at least half a day with them, reviewing data and research patterns – and watching Andel while she divined. She was by far the best practitioner he had seen. But now he would have to check in remotely.

  The other team was west, of course. The thaw was gaining pace and they were trying to see as much as possible of the delta system before it was completely flooded. They’d discovered many wonderful wetland species, including a predatory vine. If one brushed against the leaves, it sprayed its victim with a malodorous substance that was very difficult to remove. The smell lingered for days. He thought of bringing one home and planting it in the Overlord’s tent …

  IN THE TENT OF DUVÄT Gok

  Ten days later, Huldar returned from the Eastern Continent and set out for Duvät Gok tent. He dressed formally for the occasion, hoping to remind him that the team leader had the final say in the matter in question. A floating seed landed on his shoulder and, as he brushed it away, he felt a brief sense of wonder at the insignia of House Leth embroidered on his lapels. The jacket had been presented to him by Arien Leth, the lord of his House, in recognition of his services to the Explorers’ Guild – it still embarrassed him to think that he should be singled out for such honor. He smiled, remembering Arien’s craggy face, so solemn and proud on the day, but behind the Leth’s cool demeanor lay a passionate nature always ready to defend the lives of El’s Design – especially those beings who could not defend themselves.

  There was no one nearby, so he cleared his throat and began to rehearse for the coming ordeal.

  “The move to the Eastern Continent is …” No, let’s not even mention the word ‘move’. How about – “The Eastern climate is still dangerously cold, and I need more time to complete the assessment – no – the initial feasibility studies on the newly discovered gold in the ravines.”

  He looked up at clouds racing across the sky – forerunners to the advance of the front. With any luck he would speak to the Overlord before the rainstorm hit. He resumed his murmuring – “It is my duty to be sure that future mining activities will cause no harm to the planet’s ecological balance, and to do that I must make an accurate assessment of the local ecology. When the area has been properly assessed, I will work with the diviner to devise strategies
of utilization. That’s how it’s always been done. How it should be done. We are the Uri’madu. There will be no cutting corners …”

  An image of Andel as he had last seen her came to mind. Walking with her eyes closed while she divined, she seemed so vulnerable, yet she moved with confidence, as if she had intrinsic knowledge of the path ahead … extraordinary. It wasn’t as if she was shy – it was more that she was guarded … afraid of being hurt. He wondered what had happened. Every once in a while she would smile, or laugh, or share some absurdly convoluted insight, and he would glimpse her soul, shining and beautiful. Then she would close again like a flower touched by frost. He cringed inside, remembering his gaffe at their very first meeting. To be fair, getting to know the opposite sex was not the greatest of his gifts.

  He stopped before the overlord’s tent and brushed down his sleeves, then he squared his shoulders and scratched the leather door-flap politely.

  “Duvät Gok?” he said. “Duvät Gok, are you there?”

  There was no answer.

  Huldar laughed at himself. All that speechifying and I didn’t think to check if the Overlord was at home. He cast about with his mind, hoping to sense Duvät close by, but he was nowhere near.

  An early gust was the only warning as a sheet of freezing rain swept the camp, quickly plastering his hair to his head. The Overlord’s door was unsecured, and with barely a hesitation he stepped inside. The impropriety made him uncomfortable, but rain beat hard against the leather and he decided that the shelter was worth the moment or two of awkwardness. Then a powerful gust lifted the door-flap and made the tent-walls billow. Papers scattered from Duvät Gok’s rather plain desk and Huldar gave chase.

  He picked up an invoice clipped together with several others. It was stamped with the rune of House Faytha. Huldar’s eyebrows lifted when he glimpsed the amount outstanding. How could the Overlord possibly owe so much coin? Beneath this, he found a chit for a gambling debt and then another scrap that looked like a map. His cheeks flamed. He had heard that gambling was a problem for Clan Gok. With hasty movements, he returned the papers to the desk and went back to his position just inside the door.

  The moment the squall subsided he stepped outside again. Damp hair and clothes did nothing to improve his mood. How was he to face the Overlord now, knowing that he was a gambler? He decided to leave his visit for another time, but had walked no more than a few paces when he sensed him heading his way.

  “Duvät Gok.” Huldar nodded a bow and noted sand on the Overlord’s shoes.

  “Shamkarun Huldar?” the Gok replied. He sniggered at Huldar’s wet jacket. A brusque hand-sweep told Huldar to follow. As the overlord swept his door aside, Huldar rolled his eyes. His fingernails were freshly painted with the Imperial blue of the God-Emperor’s court, but he doubted Duvät had actually been there.

  The Overlord halted beside his desk and glanced down at the papers Huldar had returned. His eyes narrowed. Beneath the shelter of firm mental screens, Huldar cringed. The Overlord’s gaze followed damp footprints leading to and from his desk, then arrowed back to his.

  “What were you doing in here?” Duvät Gok demanded. There was flint in his yellow Tiamäti eyes.

  Huldar showed him an impression of the rain squall, the reason he’d entered. He indicated the papers. “They blew from your desk. I replaced them.”

  Duvät’s gaze bored into his. He felt the Tiamäti trying to pry beneath his veil and was shocked by the force of the intrusion. Duvät was not Marked, but he was an archangel of House Tiamät and, like many of his brethren, strong in powers of the mind – especially secrecy. With a sharp word of song, Huldar closed him out. Overlord or no, such rudeness could not be tolerated.

  The papers are your business, Gok, not mine.

  What did you see? Duvät demanded.

  Gambling debts.

  Despite the grave dishonor the Faythan invoices signified, Huldar was surprised to see a look of relief flicker across the Overlord’s face.

  “Your private amusements are of no interest to me,” he said. “I came to talk about another issue.”

  Duvät released a sub-audible sigh. “Go on.”

  “The Eastern Continent. The Uri’madu will not be able to relocate until the snows have cleared. One month, no less, before we move.”

  “It must be sooner!” Duvät slammed his fist onto the table. “What is wrong with you people?”

  “There is nothing ‘wrong’ with us,” Huldar snapped. “Unless you’ve discovered a major weather-working charm, that is how long it will take.”

  “Two more weeks, no more.”

  “Whatever you hope to achieve there, it cannot be accomplished by a team who are dead of exposure!”

  The Overlord paused and seemed to consider. “Very well, I will allocate extra coal for the fires.”

  “Coal? You have coal?”

  “Yes. I brought it with me as … a contingency.” Duvät’s crafty smile sent Huldar’s irritation levels soaring. “You can have some to keep your delicate little toesies warm, provided you relocate as ordered.”

  Huldar considered this. There was no wood for burning while the ground was still covered in snow, only what they’d brought with them, and as the thaw progressed it seemed less and less likely they would find anything resembling an average, ligneous tree. Coal might solve that problem, but the gasses it emitted could be dangerous in confined spaces.

  “How much do you have?” he asked.

  “Enough,” Duvät admitted. “In case the navigator is late to return – I brought ten sacks or so – enough to survive.”

  “All right,” Huldar said. “We will need three bags. Give them to Tam.”

  “Three? I was saving them for the north!”

  “Give us three,” Huldar insisted, “and we’ll leave in two weeks. Why was this not noted on the cargo manifest?”

  “Because they are mine!” the Overlord snapped.

  He signaled Huldar to follow him through the door, and once they were outside he dragged two large lumpy bags from Qalān. They plopped heavily to the ground, staining the slush with coarse black dust. Huldar waited, and Duvät produced another.

  “There!” Blue fingernails flashed as Duvät dusted his palms. “Two weeks! No more.” He scowled. Are we understood!

  Without waiting for Huldar’s reply, he returned to his tent and was swallowed into its secrets.

  Huldar hefted the grubby bags into his own Qalān. His head was spinning. That someone as fastidious as the Overlord would have a secret hoard of coal was strange to say the least – and he was a gambler? What other secrets was he hiding … and what would Casco make of this turn of events?

  He took a deep breath and turned toward the marquee. Even with the fuel as a sweetener, he was not looking forward to telling the team they would soon be working in frigid conditions again.

  THE EYES OF BEL NISHANI

  Duvät Gok watched from the cover of his tent as Huldar stowed his bags of fuel and headed for the marquee. Who knew what he’d tell the team – and did he care?

  “At one with the planet? I accept it? Bah!”

  He stalked over to his desk and snatched the damning documents from under the stone. “Just because it was raining? What was he really doing in here? In my domain, my inner sanctum!”

  He collapsed into the chair before the desk and laid the papers out before him. “He’s lying – I know it!” he muttered. “Snooping around! He’s an ecologist, for Breath’s sake. He’s not going to melt in a little rain.” He flicked the group of dockets with one blue-varnished fingernail and the Faythan invoice skated lose. If Huldar made free with the knowledge of his debts or of his entertainments, Duvät’s authority would be eroded, his honor decidedly tarnished.

  Tack, tack, tack – his fingernails danced a rhythm of annoyance against the desk top. With a brusque gesture, he shoved the papers aside, then swore as the map fluttered free and fell to the floor. As he recovered it, his heart rate steadied. The Great Design sti
ll favored him. Lethians were intensely moralistic which, although irritating, meant they rarely gossiped – and, more importantly, Huldar had not seen the map.

  He smoothed his palm across the rough diagram and felt the tingle of unseen messages in the paper. This unpretentious scrap was his greatest secret, the key to his future fortune. His gaze flickered to a locked drawer at the back of the desk, where the gem, the amazing crystal globe lay hidden. It seemed, at first glance, to be completely transparent, but if you looked closely, there was a rainbow inside it that altered and re-formed whenever it was turned. The Eye of Bel Nishani – his finger traced the characters scrawled on the map then followed the curve of a long beach on the inner sea. He already knew where he could find more.

  He imagined his wife. “The rooms are too small,” she scolded. “There’s no fountain in the courtyard!” She waved her arms theatrically. “This is little more than a dingy shack!”

  No matter how well she hid it he knew this was what she thought, and it made him angry. But now he saw she was right all along. He didn’t fit in there and it was his grandfather’s fault. His grandfather had been of Clan Enna, a navigator no less, and related to the Empress – the chosen of the Chosen. Why would a high status Enna select a lowly Gok to be his bride, and, even more confusing, why raise his daughter as a Gok, not an Enna? So selfish! He’d done it for love – or so the story went, but because of his grandfather’s short-sightedness, Duvät had been born to the clan of the bureaucrats. The flunkies. All his life, he had paid the price, but now the scales would be evened.

  His grandfather had been to this planet before – in secret. He had found the gem, made the map, and hidden them both in a drawer in this very desk. The piece was all he’d left to him when he died. Those hints were meant for him to find.

  Duvät tapped the wooden surface again. Why his grandfather had come to this dreadful place then hidden his fabulous souvenir from sight was beyond his comprehension, but he was thankful, whatever the reason.