by James Gurley
“Are they unjust?”
“Let me put it this way, only three of the eight races marry their mates, or at least contract to remain together – Terrans, Saddir and Plin. The others,” He shrugged. “Who knows? Certainly the Lilith don’t. They probably eat their mates.”
Tad shuffled his feet nervously until Janith laughed at his own joke. Tad joined in.
“Are there Churches of the One True God here? We believe marriage is a holy bond between two people.”
“Men and men, women and women?” Janith asked.
Tad’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “Sometimes,” he admitted, “But it is frowned upon in Casson.”
“Not here in Delphi. Miscegenation rules.”
Tad had never heard this word before. “What is miscegenation?” he rolled the word over his tongue to remember it. It felt rough, not right.
“When people of different races cohabitate,” Janith explained. “I’ve seen human women living with Gecks. Can you imagine that? And Quarn living with Shura.” He shuddered animatedly to show his disgust. “It makes me sick.”
Tad tried to get his mind around the concept and failed. Even allowing for Janith’s obvious disdain of the non-human races, Tad heard the truth in Janith’s words.
Emerging from the foul-smelling alley, they encountered three small Quarn standing outside a low, round building. One, an elder with white stripes running down his head and back, seemed to be preaching to the others. He held a small silver script case in his small paws and patted it lovingly as he spoke.
“There are Quarn here in the Warrens?” he asked, puzzled that the reclusive natives would live in a city. Even in his part of the country, the Quarn lived in almost inaccessible areas, high mountain passes, swamps, islands.
“Some, not many except during Caravans,” Janith answered, eyeing them carefully. “They keep mostly to themselves and are very secretive. I don’t trust them.”
“They are friendly in the country,” Tad offered. “We trade with them sometimes.”
“Here, they mostly meet in small groups and sing.”
“Sing?” This was new to Tad.
Janith shrugged his shoulders. “I call it singing. They mumble words while swaying and stomping their feet.” He laughed. “It sounds like a herd of wild animals braying.”
They crossed a busy intersection, dodging carts pulled by scraggly oxen so thin that their bones were showing through their tough hairy hides. Down a narrow alley, Janith stopped.
“Here it is,” he announced under his breath.
He held open a heavy wooden door while Tad stepped through. Inside, the darkness hid most of the room in shadows. A single spear of light crossed the broken tiled floor entering from an oblong window high on the wall. As his eyes began to adjust to the glom, Tad saw several men standing around talking quietly. A few younger men stood in their own groups. Tad spotted Cyrin and Snark perched on a low bench along one wall.
“Welcome to Rebel Headquarters,” Janith said, spreading his arms wide.
5
Rebels
“REBELS?” TAD ASKED IN SURPRISE. “THERE ARE REBELS HERE?” He stared at the gathering somewhat disappointed. He had expected to see men with weapons, men bristling with rage against their oppressors, plotting their attacks. Instead, they looked like a motley group one would find in any pub.
“Not many yet. A few dozen, but soon there will be hundreds. Terrans are tired of taking orders from xenos.”
“But the Council …?”
“The Council favors the xenos,” a tall man said as he approached. He examined Tad closely while nodding his head slowly. “A new recruit, Janith?”
“Perhaps, Valcor. He’s fresh in from the country, but he’s eager to learn. He’s going to work for a Watcher. I thought he might be useful to us.”
Valcor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A Watcher, eh? That’s unusual, but then you look like an unusual lad. Don’t let Janith sway you. We don’t hate the xenos. We just want our fair share. The two Terrans on the Council are controlled by the Saddir and Lilith temptress and the majority want Terrans out of the city.”
Valcor pulled up a chair and sat at the table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. He slipped a pipe from a coat pocket and lit it with a match he struck on the table. The others remained standing in the shadows or sitting on benches against the wall.
“Why?” Tad asked.
Valcor puffed a few time to start his pipe; then exhaled a cloud of smoke that disappeared into the shadows. “They claim Terrans caused the Veil to fall. In addition, they are angry that we invaded the Sanctuary of Delphi many years ago, back when each race fought for dominance. We fought them to a standstill then, but Terrans are growing fewer and fewer. Most opt for freedom in the wild lands of the eastern continent. Soon, the other races will have the power to evict us from the city.”
Tad looked aghast. “Why would they do that?”
Valcor looked at Janith, and then back to Tad. He pointed the pipe at Tad. “The Veil is falling again.”
Tad felt his legs sway and his bowels growl. The Veil was the most evil thing he could imagine. It had almost destroyed an entire galaxy, had destroyed Charybdis. Now, it was coming back. Was this to what Sea Hawk was intimating?
“How … how do you know?” he gasped.
“The Watchers filed a report with the Council of Regents almost a year ago. The Council suppressed it, of course, but we managed to secure a copy. It will return in less than two hundred years.”
Tad felt a rush of relief. His breath returned. “That long? I thought-”
“Two hundred years is hardly enough time to prepare for it. Almost all life died the first time. We must be ready, boy. There are hardly enough resources to sustain the races for years of nothingness. It’s up to us to see that Terrans come out on top this time.”
“But if we work together, like last time…” Tad started but stopped as he saw Valcor’s face.
Valcor laughed. His laughter was hearty but not mean-spirited. A few others chuckled quietly. “I see you’ve been studying your history. It’s not true, you know. There was no cooperation before Veil Fall. When knowledge of the Veil became widespread, every race fought to build its own Sanctuary and steal all the resources it could before the end. Tens of thousands died in those battles. One of our Terran Sanctuaries was in the Black Mountains. We recovered first and spread fast. It wasn’t long before the first inevitable conflict.”
Tad was puzzled. He had always believed that the races had cooperated before the Fall. “With whom?”
“The Saddir. We beat them soundly at the Battle of Murim’s Pass. That’s why they admire us. They idolize the art of war and respect strength.” He frowned. “The Plin, as usual, took no sides, using their powers to leverage neutrality.”
“What of the others?” Tad asked, eager to hear the rest of the story.
“The Quarn keep clear of everyone as best they can. That’s how they survived. The Haffa are no threat. The Lilith,” he said, and then laughed. “Now there’s a fighting force for you, beauties all. They were once as Terran as the rest of us. Some great evil befell their smaller Sanctuary near Sundering affecting only the males, turning them savage. Forced to kill the males, the women chose the only option available for them and have since made of it a religion.”
Tad was astounded at this news. He had not known their origins, thinking them a separate race. Now he understood the Cloud Rider’s dilemma—not truly half-Terran, but not fully accepted by Lilith or Terran.
“Why not change?” he asked.
Valcor shrugged and inhaled deeply from his pipe. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift lazily upwards. The smoke passed through a shaft of light from a broken window, roiling like a storm cloud before passing into the darkness above. “I guess they found some pleasantry in the absence of men’s company.”
Janith laughed aloud.
Tad ignored him. “These Sanctuaries—where are they?”
/> Valcor pointed toward the walls of Delphi. “This was one, deep in the forbidden Catacombs beneath the city. Sundering was one. Another is Dureth in the Black Mountains.”
“Dureth?” Tad said excitedly. “I’ve heard of the legend of Dureth. It’s supposed to be near Casson, my home, a great cavern filled with gold and silver from the old times.”
“An El Dorado, eh?” Valcor smiled. “Yes, it was lost but not forgotten. The others, though, have been long forgotten.”
Tad frowned. “I think my father died searching for it.”
Valcor blew another smoke ring. “Did he find it?”
“I guess not. He did not return.” He confronted Valcor. “Do you propose to fight the other races?”
Valcor weighed his answer carefully. “Not if it can be helped. There are too few of us to lose as it is. No, it is through the rule of law we will win our goal and force the other races to prepare for the Second Coming.”
Tad considered this. “Then you are more a league of change than a rebel army.”
Valcor again laughed at this, slapping the table in his mirth. “A League of Change. I like that. I suppose we are, but rebel sounds so much more emphatic.”
“You want me to join you?”
“As a Terran, you should at least consider it, but first, live; enjoy Delphi. When you see things as we do, we will come to you again and ask for your help. For now, watch, listen and learn.”
“This much I will promise—I will consider what you have said and learn what I can. When the time comes, then I will decide.”
Valcor opened his hands and spread them wide. “We ask for no more.” He turned to Janith. “Show him back to his quarters. Be a friend to him in this city of strangers.”
“I will,” Janith swore with a solemnity that touched Tad.
Valcor looked at Tad. “It would be best if you spoke of this meeting to no one. We are watched.”
Tad nodded as Janith headed for the door. He felt as if quicksand had swallowed part of his world and that the rest was spongy underfoot. He had thought Delphi to be the city above all others, the City of the Eight Races. That rebellion lurked just beneath the thin veneer of harmony and cooperation dismayed him. He cast one last look at Valcor sitting at the table, puffing away at his pipe. The rebel leader looked more academic than dissident.
Janith proved exceptionally quiet on their way back into the city as if considering Valcor’s words. Tad had to admit that the rebel leader spoke passionately and eloquently and his words rang with truth, but Valcor seemed too relaxed, too content, to overthrow the government. He wondered if the rebels were, after all, all talk and no show.
A light drizzle made the cobblestones slippery and plastered Tad’s hair to his head. The gray sky promised more to follow. They went directly to the Caravan grounds. A new, smaller Caravan was already making ready for the reverse trip. Many had decided to stay in the city a while longer. Their wagons now lined the wall forming a more permanent community. His uncle would be among those leaving. Janith waited only long enough to greet Tad’s uncle before disappearing back into the city. Tad was unusually taciturn and nervous. His uncle noticed Tad’s solemn demeanor also.
“Were there any problems in the city?” he asked.
“No,” Tad lied, drying his wet hair with a towel his uncle had handed him. “Everything was fine.”
His uncle stared at him a moment longer before changing the subject. “We will leave before dawn, I expect.” He glanced out at the overcast sky from beneath the edge of the canvas covering the wagon. “If the roads are not too muddy. Do you have you a place to stay yet?”
Tad nodded. “Simios said to bring my belongings to the Watchers’ Tower at the eighth hour.” He dug in his pocket and held out his new chronometer. He showed it to his uncle.
“Very good,” his uncle beamed at Tad’s purchase. “Every young man needs a chronometer. Being on time is a sign of character. Did Simios say what you would be doing?”
Tad smiled. “I am to be a companion for King Karal and live in the Black Tower,” he said with pride.
Instead of the praise he expected, his uncle frowned. “You must be doubly careful,” he warned while wagging a finger at Tad. “I have heard talk since we arrived. Perhaps is it just back-alley bull swaggering, but I fear that some in the Council seek to overthrow the young king and rule in his stead. There could be trouble. Do not get caught in the middle.”
“Because the king is Terran?”
His uncle looked at him oddly. “Yes, perhaps. Have you heard something also?”
He did not wish to tell his uncle about his meeting with the rebels. He shook his head. “No, but it seems Terrans are not well loved in Delphi.”
“It is so, I fear, having grown worse since last I was here, but do not let anyone intimidate you. You come from a proud lineage and, if Askos is any judge of character, you have a great future here. Be proud of who you are. Terrans explored more of the galaxy than any other race. We ruled ten dozen worlds and had colonies on dozens more.”
“Now we are a mere handful,” Tad said.
He nodded. “Here on Churum perhaps. Many Terrans, ever adventurous, have chosen a new life on the wild eastern continent of Valastaria. Besides, there is no proof we are truly alone in the galaxy. Even if true, the blood that sent men to the stars courses through your veins. Be proud of it.”
“People I met know who I am; at least they recognize the de Silva name. Why?”
His uncle looked pensive, as if trying to decide how best to answer Tad’s question. “Your grandfather passed through Delphi many times in his adventures both here and across the ocean. Perhaps they remember him.”
Tad wasn’t satisfied with his uncle’s answer. He was leaving something out. “No, it is more than that. They know me as well.”
His uncle sighed. “Your Grandfather once worked for King Kalman, before he met your grandmother and left the king’s service, before he developed the wanderlust.”
His uncle’s revelation stunned him. “My grandfather worked for the king,” he gasped. Angrily he asked, “Why has no one told me this?”
“Your mother thought it best. After the death of your father, she was afraid of losing you too.”
Tad nodded. “Instead I lost her.”
Tad wondered that if what his uncle had said about the blood in his veins being proud was true, why his blood felt so cold.
6
RUMORS
THAT NIGHT, AS PROMISED, TAD TOOK HIS UNCLE TO A FINE restaurant near the Garden District named The Dying Swan. He had passed it on his way home the previous day, attracted by its strange architecture. Made of ancient metal rather than stone or wood, it had a curved appearance, ending in an area composed entirely of a substance harder than steel that became as transparent as glass when electric current ran through it. The passage of centuries had etched even this hard substance. Beneath a curved wing-like structure lay an outdoor patio strung with tiny electric lights. A three-piece string group played quietly in one corner.
“I think this was once an ancient spaceship,” his uncle said, looking closely at the building. “See the glass-like substance. It is very old. I think it must have been the bridge.” He looked above them. “This was a wing or aerofoil. It was perhaps a shuttle designed to journey between the planet and a light Jump ship.”
Tad stared at the building with new interest. He had seen spaceships in ancient books, but did not suspect any had survived the Veil, even if only the hull since converted for more mundane purposes.
“To think man once flew in such a ship.” He thought of Zerot the Cloud Rider and wondered if he would have flown in such a ship.
The aroma wafting from the kitchen soon took his mind off the derelict and drew it back to the table. The bouquet alone was enough to whet their appetites. The tantalizing smell of roasted garlic and caramelized onions mingled with the fragrance of grilled meats and freshly baked breads, hinting at the meal to come. The wait staff wore black suits with st
ring ties and bowed as they approached the table. One Saddir, his alabaster skin making him look strangely resplendent in his black attire handed Tad a large, leather-bound menu. Tad scanned the menu and was shocked at the prices, but did not want to appear cheap and provincial in front of the waiter.
Thinking to impress his uncle, he said, “I’ll order for both of us.” To the waiter, he said, “We will have the seafood chowder with garlic rolls to start and grilled breast of karth with wine sauce for our entrée, also a side of roasted meshart root and fresh tai’n beans.” He had heard of meshart roots, long, thin tubers considered a delicacy by the Saddir, and while he had never tasted the tart, purple tai’n bean found in the jungles of Valastaria, the name intrigued him. He quickly scanned the wine list and was lost. The names meant nothing to him. He randomly chose a bottle at a price he thought he could afford. “We’ll take a bottle of the Southern Hills Brandy, please.”
The waiter nodded. “Excellent choice, sir. I think you will enjoy the fruity hint of mishberry liqueur used to fortify the wine. It has a slightly citrus taste.”
His uncle smiled and bowed slightly. “Great job, Tad. You will do well here, I think.”
“Not at these prices, I fear,” he joked.
“I’m surprised someone had the forethought to store grape seeds for wines before the Fall,” his uncle said. “Many plants and animals did not survive.”
“And people,” Tad added.
When the food arrived, the presentation was as appetizing as the aroma and it tasted better yet. Both agreed it was far superior to anything his aunt could have cooked and she was renowned in Casson for her slow-cooked roasts and gravies. The chowder contained kernels of roasted corn and green peas with large chunks of potatoes floating in a thick white broth amid perfectly cooked slices of crustacean and fish, lightly seasoned.
“I wonder if any of these vegetables came from our farm,” Tad said.
“Perhaps. Casson is widely known for its vegetables.”
The entrée of breast of karth was so tender he needed no knife to cut it. Thinking of Flick and Flack, Tad felt a little squeamish about eating, but wild karth had been a food staple for centuries. Once the first delicious bite passed his lips, he showed no more reluctance and dug in with pleasure. The sauce was so light Tad could see through it as he ladled it over his meat. The brandy was sweet and dry but palatable. Each time the level of their glasses dropped, the waiter appeared almost magically and replenished them. Tad, unused to so much alcohol, felt giddy. For dessert, they chose a bowl of frozen cream with fresh fruit sautéed in an exotic liqueur whose name he could not pronounce. Before he could finish it, Tad pushed away from the table.
