by Jo Clayton
“Threats, Scholar?”
“Certainly not, Goлs. Merely an objective and measured assessment of the situation.”
“I see. And if a flake of this conversation were sent to the head of your School?”
“That is your privilege, Goлs. Feel free to do whatever you choose.”
“I see. If I allow you to leave, you’ll sign a release?”
“For myself and if I’m allowed to write it, yes. And if you have a Register File intact. University has a standard form which should be acceptable to your legal department.” She smiled. “This isn’t the first time the problem has arisen. As to Aide Ola and Manager Shears, they will have to speak for themselves.”
“If you’ll provide a flake for the legalware to look over, I’m sure we can work something out. When were you thinking of leaving?”-
“That will depend upon how soon we can get passage on a barge. I wanted to clear matters with you, Goлs Koraka, before I started making arrangements.” She stood. “If you want my testimony under Verifier, it is yours without condition. I do not like what is being done to these people.”
Marrin drove past the track parked at the beginning of the causeway. “And we hope they’re finally doing their job since their being here makes Shears’ telltales useless.”
“I know. You rank me right up with the Goлs for cluelessness, don’t you.”
“From what I can see, Scholar, you’ve led a singularly sheltered life.” He kept his eyes moving, scanning the silent green front of the Marish as if the flicker of the leaves and the flutter of hanging lichen webs could give him the answers the telltale wouldn’t.
“Tactful. And very like my mother.” She was silent a while. The darkness under the trees, the stagnant water with its reeds and clouds of insects, the gauzy lichen like ancient webs of gigantic spiders, the stillness of the place, all of that seemed to settle over her and give her voice an oddly muffled quality when she finally spoke. “It has always amazed me how most physically competent, practical people have such a low opinion of a Scholar’s imaginative competence even when they are very bright themselves.”
“In my case, if you want a serious answer, Scholar…”
“I would prefer one, yes.”
He frowned at the stretch of causeway left, glanced over his shoulder, reached up and tapped on the telltale. “On Picabral, men whose skills lay only in the mind generally died before puberty. It gives one a viewpoint perhaps a little skewed.”
“I see.”
“A dull and bloody place, Scholar. You wouldn’t find much interesting there. Such a world tends to a deadly uniformity, the more so since anyone with a touch of your imaginative competence… by the way, I rather like that phrase… removes himself at the first possible moment.” He sighed with relief as he started down the ramp. “Though I wouldn’t put you among those who only dream. But you have been sheltered from a great deal that might help you plan right now.”
“Hm.” It was a small and exceedingly skeptical sound almost lost in the hum of lifters. It trailed off into a sigh as she leaned back and let the stunner rest in her lap. “We’ll have to crate the gear and get the Metau and Teseach to give it storage room in the Meeting House. That should be safe enough. You and Dunc start running the analysis of the interviews, get everything encrypted and duplicated into flakes. Just in case. I’ve three more interviews set up for tomorrow. Might as well finish those before we leave. Besides, one of them is a bargeman’s wife. Won’t be direct help, no doubt, but maybe I can pick up some useful information.”
“No more argument?”
“About going after the Chav? I don’t waste my breath.” She wrinkled her longish nose, laughed at him. “Besides, Shadow may already have dealt with him. She can be a very sudden woman when she chooses.”
“I’ve heard rumors. That the truth you told the Goлs?”
“Now, Marrin, I’m surprised at you. You think I’d lie?” She grinned. “When every word I spoke is going through analysis by traders used to listen for nuance?” She sobered. “And I’ll probably have to submit to the Verifier when this business is over. You, too. Remember that.”
“Me?” He blinked, looked startled. “Why? I’m only a student.”
“Because this is a Trade Matter. Which means Helvetia. I’ve been through one of their condemnation trials. They pick nits like no one else. Which means everyone, including you, Dunc, and a sample of the Bйluchar who can speak as direct witnesses to the burnings. Goлs Koraka hoeh Dexios knows all of this, Marrin. It’s why he’s being so very very careful in everything he does. This is life and death for Yaraka and Chandavasi.”
He looked out over the placid fields with the herds and their drowsy keepers, the farmers working in their fields, weeding, irrigating, planting things whose names he didn’t know, whose uses he had even less idea about. The sky was empty of Eolt, but a few clouds stretched in long arcing wisps across a deep blue dome. Such peace was deceptive, he knew, this was no godhome perfection, but filled with stresses and strains and the thousand thousand ways that life can go wrong for people, especially when two such disparate species tried to live together. But they did try, and there had been peace. This wasn’t a stagnant world; things changed, but they had changed at Bйluchad’s own pace and in ways peculiar to this dual species called Bйluchar. And the Eolt were a wonder. The first time he’d seen them, they’d been like jewels carved from amber, and when he heard them singing in that grand chorus… the memory stung a sterner anger out of him and a determination to pull together for himself the Chandavasi files. They were there in the Rekordek, he’d just been too busy to look into them.
Duncan Shears was waiting in the stable the Blai Olegan had cleaned out to house the jit. “Metau and Teseach have been by,” he said. “They want to see you soonest, Scholar.”
“About what?” Aslan swung down from the jit, pushing her hair back from her face. “They give you any idea?”
“Probably Glois and Utelel,” Marrin said. “Finally got around to doing what they should have done yesterday.”
“Hm. Dunc, were they angry or what?”
“Serious but not hostile.”
“Then that’s all right. I’d better get cleaned up first. Marrin will fill you in. Things are going to start changing very quickly.”
“Enclave?”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, we’re not. We’re going to go inland and hunt for Shadith.”
“I was thinking about that. Away from here to anywhere is a good idea.”
3
“Ihoi! I’m weak as a rotted rootbulb.” Danor grunted, tried to push himself up.
Shadith rose from the cot where she was drowsing, opened the slide on the nightlight and carried it across to the bed. “So you’re with us again.” She set the nightlight clown, bent down, touched his face. “Good. For a while there I thought you were going to burn this place down around you, that fever had you so hot.”
“Place. Where are we?”
“Blai at Dumel Minach.”
“How long…?”
“Six days. You nearly died from the fever and the allergies, but Tokta Burek got you through.”
“Allergies?”
“There was a point when I had to use things from my medkit on you. They worked enough so we didn’t kill you by moving you but caused some problems later.” She managed a smile. “Might have fried a few nerves, but with some rest you’ll do all right.”
“Rest. We’ve already lost six days.” His voice went shrill on the end, and he tried to push himself up.
Shadith clucked her tongue, bent over him, her hands on his shoulders, not applying pressure yet, just letting him know she could. “And we’ll lose even more if you tear open that wound. Relax. Mer-Eolt Lebesair went on ahead to let the Meruu know what happened. Xe got back yesterday. They’ll wait for us.”
“The dying won’t wait. Leave me and go on.”
“Yes, we could do that,
but you’ve seen what we could only report second hand, Ard Da…”
“Don’t call me Ard. My sioll’s dead.” That outburst used the last of his energy; he went limp, turning his head so she wouldn’t see the tears coursing from his eyes.
She touched his hair lightly, straightened, filled a glass from the ewer on the bedtable. “I’ve poured you some water. It’s on the table here, just stretch out your hand when you want it. I’m on the cot by the window, call me if you need anything.”
She stretched out, yawned, but couldn’t recover the drifty doze she’d been in when he called out. She’d done everything she could think of to get the handcom working again, but repairing solid state electronics with a screwdriver and a talent for mindlifting small objects wasn’t a very hopeful project to start with and she got the results she’d expected. She thought about throwing the thing away as useless weight, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do that. Not yet.
Aslan would be bothered over no reports coming back, but she wouldn’t worry too much. Shadith smiled into the darkness, remembering the Scholar’s acerbic comments on administrative stupidity. Not one to suffer fools lightly, Aslan. Talking about fools. Smugglers bringing in guns. Those were offworld pellet shooters the choreks had. I should have taken them apart instead of just leaving them beside the corpses. Well, no time for it, I’ll just have to live with that Won’t be Arel. How odd to come across word of him again. Or maybe not so odd. The Callidara was part of his round before Bogmak. And won’t he be pissed if the Chave win the prize and shut the world on him. She sighed.
She was deeply tired, but sleep kept eluding her no matter how she tried to clear her mind. In a few days, less than a week, she’d be answering questions for the Meruus. What happens after that? I’ve done what Aslan brought me along to do. Now what happens. What do I do? What do I do? Burning Eolt. She shuddered. That has to stop. I have to help. Somehow. Aslan can testify, say we make it offworld. Which may be a very iffy thing. The Ykkuval has to know he doesn’t dare let us get away. What do I do? Go after them. Use what I can do… animal armies… I haven’t tried it with budders I wonder if I can mindride local vermin? Hm. No, don’t try it now, you get started, you’ll never get to sleep.
She heard the clink of the glass, thought about going over to help the Fior, after a moment, though, she decided he’d feel better doing as much for himself as he could. In the morning, soon as Maorgan gets back from whatever bed he’s found, I’ll ask him to give Danor a bath and a shave. Gods, I hope we get out of here soon, this place is growing on me like mold
4
Amalia Udaras was a middle-aged woman with gray-streaked brown hair. Her face was round, comfortable, still pretty, her eyes big and a dark strong blue. She’d chosen to be interviewed in the garden of her house where she had a good view of the river.
“I like to sit out here when I have a little time and the day’s a clear one. My Tamhan, he’s Kabit on the Ploлsca, my eldest boy, Dolbary, he was good at making things even when he was barely crawling, he’s carpenter’s mate on the Morrail, and my second boy, Beill, he’s prenticed to the pilot on the Grassul. Never a one of them ever had a doubt in his head that he’d be working the river when his time came. I’ve always wished I’d had a daughter or two, but Beill came hard and after him, I couldn’t have more. Cha oy, Chel Dй has his reasons.”
“Kabit. An interesting word when you look at the roots. A well/source. The rule. Will you explain it, Amalia Udaras?”
“Ah. The Kabit of a sailbarge is two things at once, Scholar. He holds coin, lends and collects interest on coin lent. Because he is moving continually along the river, this is convenient for traders and storekeepers. My Tamhan is a clever man, numbers dance for him, though he hasn’t as much time for them as he likes. He has two apprentices who do much of the actual accounting. He is also the chief officer of the barge, concerned with cargo, crew, and safe sailing. Is that sufficient?”
“Not only sufficient but interesting. I’d like to interview him if he can find a moment to talk with me. But that’s for later. Go on with what you were telling me.”
“As I said, I like to sit out here and watch the river. It’s like it ties me to my Tamhan and Dolbary and Beill. There, you see that bit of slickery there on the water, means there was a storm up near the mountains a few days ago, there’s something in the soil up there that makes that glitter when the river’s carrying new mountain mud. I used to worry when I saw that and understood what it meant. I still do, a little. You know every ten years we have the Blianta Sirnur which is rather like the Mengerak. The Children’s Walk. Did they tell you about that? Cha Oy. The Blianta Simur is a pilgrimage like that. People travel to shrines or just go visiting, or go to Chuta Meredel to study something. Not everyone, of course. Most folks only make one Blianta in their lives, though some do three or four. And if you’re always traveling like my Tamhan, cha oy, you just don’t bother. But one year he got permission for me to come on the barge with him so I could make my Blianta. What? Oh, yes. They do take passengers sometimes. Some barges. It depends upon the Kabit. Some don’t like having dirteaters on their boats. That’s what they call us, you know, even me, though I’m married and mother to the river, you might say. Anyway, we went through a terrible storm, but the barge it was tight and rode easy enough, so I haven’t worried near so much since. Mostly, if you’re on a barge and not part of the crew, you’re expected to keep out of the way at all times, otherwise you might find yourself on shore and walking.”
“Barge season. It’s high season now. You will see a lot of traffic on the river these days. The season generally runs from Kirrayl through Termallyl, that’s thaw through to the first big snowfall, though if it’s a mild winter in the mountains sometimes the first barges will leave in Diokayl, unless it’s a Fifth year when Diokayl loses a day and is called Getrentyl, that’s an old word for Sorrow, you know. When Diokayl is Getrentyl, no one starts anything. It is very bad luck. The children who are born in Getrentyl have a curse on them, they either die young or go bad some way. The Denchoks never bud in the winter months so they are spared that.”
“How long is Tamhan usually away? That varies according to how far upriver he goes and what loads he finds. If he fills up early, he comes back sooner. In general, though, in season he is away between forty and fifty days each trip and each season he will make around five trips. In the winter, when the barge is in drydock, he consults with the owners, works on the books, looks over the loans to see which are current and which look like they might go bad on him, makes plans for the next season, and oversees repairs and cleaning of the barge. Time he has left over, he plays dissa or droic with the other bargemen, works on our house-he’s neat fingered and clever, Dolbary gets his talent from his Da-goes to Council meetings and does the thousand small things he’s had to let go since Spring.”
“Me? Oh, what I do isn’t very interesting. Just a lot of little things. I make the boys’ clothes and keep them mended. Tamhan gets his shore clothes made by the tailor, of course. He has to look just right when he’s talking with merchants and mill owners and miners. I do make his workshirts, though. And I make the covers for the furnishings in his cabin on the barge. I do needlepoint, it’s something I take pleasure in. I make up my own designs and Tamhan tells me they are much admired, so perhaps Dolbary gets a little of his gift from his mother, too. I take care of the house. I take my turn fixing lunch at the school, I help the Denchok and the other Dumel wives arrange things for the fetes and rites and celebrations. Why just this last Summerday; I baked the suncakes and the berry bread and kept an eye on the children as they strung pennants and looped poppers around to make the fine noise of the Summer Greeting.”
“I am also a perfumer. I distill and blend, do concentrates which I sell to the soapmaker. It is easier to do this when Tamhan is away; some of the smells are a bit overpowering. He is always bringing me new essences, flowers and other things for my distillery and glass bottles and tubing from the Glasshouse at Dumel
Olterau. And he sells my perfumes in all the Dumels he stops at. I enjoy very much the creation of new blends and it helps the family prosper.”
“I do keep busy when Tamhan’s gone, though when he comes home I like to keep a lighter schedule. I like to fuss over him a bit, listen to his tales. He’s always got interesting things to tell me. I’ve been on two other Bliantas with him since that first time and it’s always good to, hear again of places I’ve seen.”
“It is sad that Dolbary and Belli are almost never home when Tamhan is. Nor do they see each other all that often, except to wave to if their barges happen to pass. A time or two they’ve tied up together, but not often. Their rounds are just too different. Cha oy, if you live from the river, you live by river’s time.”
5
Shadith glanced over her shoulder at the litter ponies. Danor seemed to be handling the jolting all right.
Night before last, after xe had inspected Danor, ignoring the Fior’s agitated complaints, Tokta Burek let Shadith tug xe from the room.
“He won’t listen,” she said.
Tokta Burek had just shrugged, xe’s lichen-web creaking with the movement. “He’ll fret himself dead,” xe said, “you might as well start on again and see if you can get him to rest come nightfall. He’ll not let the jarring stop him getting better, you needn’t worry over that. The chert’s too dammalheaded to die.
You said he’s been drinking smoke. That’s where those blisters come from, his body fighting the need, trying to revert to the way it was before. Can’t be too far gone, or he would be dead. I’ll give you some doses of the roec and a lotion to spread on his skin for the pustules. It will take a few weeks to work the irritants from the smoke out of his system.”
“Hunh! He’s an irritant to my system.”
Burek chuckled. “A talking boil,” xe said. Xe touched her cheek, the one with the hawk etched on it. “I have deeply enjoyed your art, Shadowsong. By next year I will have spun my husk and be dreaming the change time away and you will be part of those dreams.”
