Omira took over. “And why, secretary, do you suppose they believed this? Our tragedy is no business of theirs. The Tolfarians abandoned this world and all claim to it ages ago.”
“The loss of life will be devastating to our bio-electric—”
Omira cut him off. She waved her hand in a sharp gesture. “We will discuss this matter and get back to you.”
The council experienced their own wave of dissent. The murmurs were a pale answer to the ones of the Clergy, however. Omira ruled here, and they knew it. If they’d expected a fast answer, the Senior Priestess had just made it clear that they wouldn’t be getting one. She ignored the secretary’s splutter and faced her people. Her hands moved again, silencing the room. Even the secular council stilled.
Omira’s eyes found Rowri again. The unspoken understanding hummed between them. They both knew what that answer would entail. Whatever the outcome, this outside contact had to be the spark. The Galactic Summit had called from the far edge of the sector, and the Uraru would make an answer. Something in that answer would lead her into her seeing. Something on the horizon would see Rowri and the Senior Priestess on a small shuttle and far away from home.
She lingered in the back by the bell tables. The crowd settled and dispersed, still chattering. Mirau followed them out, and Rowri resisted the girl's pleas to leave together. She stayed longer than she should have, than any junior Priestess should have, but she knew without question that the Senior would approve.
Rowri ignored the sideways glances, the scowls from the upper Priesthood, and waited as if she had good reason. She did have good reason, and the Senior Preistess confirmed it by leaving the dais as soon as the secretaries filed out and marching directly to meet her.
“You should be in bed, child.”
“I was.”
“We are going to answer the Tolfarians' plea.” Omira inhaled slowly, centered. Rowri took it as guidance and did likewise, but the Senior had more to share and was visibly agitated. “Tomorrow, I will address the congregation again. I’ll explain the situation and I will ask for a volunteer.”
“I have—”
“Wait!” Omira’s hand flew up. “Don’t say it yet, child.” She looked at the tables, as if her answer were hiding under the bells. “I know what is in your mind, Rowri. You know that too. I will address the clergy and you will answer, but before you do I want you to think on this long and hard. I wish to give you time to consider fully.”
“But we both know it won’t make a difference.”
“We both know, Rowri. Yes. But walk with me anyway. Do this thing; listen carefully. The steps we take along the path are fully as important as the destination we chase. What we know or do not know might make a difference that we cannot see.”
Omira’s anxiety infected her. The Senior’s Uraru felt as spooked as Rowri’s. Maybe they all were. The destruction of Bumare, the devastation of the bio-net, had shaken the security of their entire race. Without the planet’s defense, they'd be open to invasion, forced to rely on the Galactic Summit to defend them, a Summit that often favored one member over the other, that had been known to make allowances for the right price. Without the bio-net, there would be no guarantee they would remain Choman.
Rowri shook her head fiercely and followed Omira out of the Temple.
They took the path together, walked the garden without speaking. When her superior led her to the front gates, Rowri fought the urge to argue. She kept moving, but her Uraru rumbled and recoiled.
“I am breaking protocol, Rowri.” Omira swept out through the temple gate, left Rowri with no choice but to follow if she meant to hear the Senior’s words. The woman didn’t go far—she only stopped a few steps beyond Rowri’s comfort and turned, staring up at the very tip of the gates with a peaceful, but thoughtful, expression. “Our star is very old.”
Rowri slunk through the opening, felt the hairs prickle along her neck as if she were in beast form. The Senior only reflected on the gates and waited for Rowri to take a place beside her.
“We believe it represents the two sides of the Choma-uraru, the cat and the man, but I think, Rowri, that it might refer to something more.”
“The Choma-tolfari?”
“Smart girl.” Omira smiled a wistful thin smile and turned her face away, glancing out to the right where the jungle was still looking quite bent and ashy. “The Tolfarian scientists believe they have discovered a genetic unity. They claim that, once, all the Choma were of one variety, that only when our differences first drove us apart did we stop sharing genetic material.”
“When they left the home world?” Rowri couldn’t help but stare at the Temple symbol. The two-toned star stood for the Uraru, for their personal dual nature. “It was their choice, Senior.”
“Long before that.” Omira sighed and began to walk along the wall. It was too late to hesitate now. Rowri’s interest had been caught, and she followed along with only a few nervous, feral glances out to the jungle. “When the first schism happened, the Choma-tolfari only moved a little apart. They sought out their answers through their gadgetry and we were left without their dissent to pursue our truer nature through spirit.”
They both made the symbol with their hands, signing in unison and bowing their heads instinctively. If bells had been available, they might have chimed together before Omira continued.
“What do you know of our bio-net, child?”
“The sum energy of all life on Choma fuels the defenses, Senior. I believe the disaster must be…”
“Yes. Of course it is.”
They looked to the sky together, but Rowri’s head dropped quickly away. She didn’t want to see the emptiness, the lack of their constant lightning. “Pardon.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize, Rowri. I only meant to agree.” Omira rubbed her hands together, a subtle gesture, but one that belied her own anxiety. “I meant to ask if you understood where it came from, that it was the Choma-tolfari who conceived of and built the system.”
“The Tolfarians made the bio-net?” She hadn’t thought of it, and yet, the Uraru rarely wasted time on such things. They had a few souls who chose to work in mechanical fields, to maintain the small vehicles that cruised their surface and to keep the net going, but these were unfortunate men with little aptitude for more advanced callings.
“They did. And they invented most of the conveniences we still enjoy. It is not in our ilk to modify nature.”
“No, Senior.”
“It is our nature to see, and now I see change on our horizon, child. The disaster has incapacitated us. We can repair the damage, but we cannot fuel the net with such a loss of life. The Tolfarians, do you see how they have removed us even from their name? Now they send word that they wish to help, to open lines of communication in hopes of repairing our history, of healing the schism between our peoples."
“What is it, Senior?”
“They claim they wish to help, Rowri. The Choma-tolfari wish to offer assistance, so they say, and how can we refuse them when their technology could feed our safety again?”
“Are we to open our arms and welcome their help? After they rejected our world?” Rowri’s cat rumbled, forgot its terror, and snarled through her words.
But the Senior raised her hand, shook her head softly. “They wish only to open negotiations at this time, to offer an exchange. They possess a generator which they claim will restore the bio-net, somewhat of a temporary fix, but a solution to our immediate problem.”
They’d reached the first corner of the outer wall, the place where it bent and continued to the southwest at a slight angle, a facet glinting in white stone. Those blocks were ground smooth as satin by Choma-uraru hands, but had the sparking controls, the securities they’d come to rely on so fully, come from Tolfarian hands? The jungle curved away like a verdant blanket, the source, the life of the Choma wilds. In the distance, Rowri could see the dim sparkle of the nearest city, Fartua. They’d built as minimally as possible, had left the bulk of their wor
ld untouched. But the Tolfarians had disagreed with that tactic.
“They wish to exchange something?” Rowri squinted toward Fartua and tried to imagine why the Choma-tolfari would choose to help them. Had they seen the gap in the biosphere rent by the volcano as an opportunity to tear into Choma further? Or would they see the Uraru’s need as their opportunity to reclaim their home?
“They will give us this generator,” Omira said. “But they ask for something in return, something that I find particularly distasteful.”
“And what is this thing?” Rowri sensed it in her belly. Omira was reluctant to speak it; she didn’t approve. But Rowri had seen the lilac man. He’d held her in his arms.
“The Tolfarians believe that, were we to allow the genetics to mingle again, our seeing would not be denied them. They wish to regain their abilities on that count.”
“But not the Uraru.” The Choma-tolfari had reviled the beast nature of their kin, and had never hidden their fear of the cats their cousins held within. No Choma-tolfari would welcome the beast inside them, and Omira confirmed her suspicion that they still felt the same about the Uraru.
“They have developed a means of suppressing that trait.”
“So they covet our visions but still reject the Uraru?”
“Yes.”
They made the sign together again. Rowri tried to imagine life without her Uraru, the emptiness of it. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even the Choma-tolfari. She thought of the lilac man, of his eyes, the scent of him. Perhaps, she could convince them otherwise, show them that the cat could be embraced. Her cheeks warmed at the thought. Her Uraru purred. She had seen it. Before she could confess as much to the Senior, Omira snarled.
“They want only half of us, want to defy nature, and to do so, they seek a-a…” She spat the last words, and killed Rowri’s confession in her undisguised ire. “They want a broodmare.”
Chapter Six
It had to be Shayd that went. None of them questioned that, not in front of Tout and not once they’d settled in to discuss the offer in private. He looked out the sliding doors at the private atrium and tried to imagine why the Heart would throw him to the wolves.
They’d borrowed an empty dormitory, and the Shrouded Council rested now on couches intended for the Bride candidates. Haftan and Jadyek shared one. Shayd could see their reflection in the glass, though he kept his back to the room. The king paced, and Mofitan and Dolfan both stood. Together, the King's Council made a portrait of Shrouded genes. The lilac skin and dark hair, the size and features that marked them as alien…even to their own planet.
In this room, Brides from across the galaxy had met the alien refugees of Shroud, learned their customs, and signed a promise to remain on the veiled planet below. Each candidate chose to spend her life there, to marry one of the Shrouded and bear him children that would all be male and fully Shrouded despite the mother's genetics.
Since the Eclipsan invasion, the candidates sent were just as often spies hoping to ferret out the Shrouded secrets or princesses with their eye on the next King of Shroud. The whole process had been undermined. Jadyek's idea would make a fair replacement, but it meant big changes. And change never tasted sweet to the Shrouded.
"This is the Summit's price for our membership," Peryl said. "They want us to negotiate the reconciliation of the Chomans.”
"They want us to force it," Mof said.
“Perhaps we should wait.” Haftan’s voice barely reached him. The man spoke down now, always to his own feet. "What if we do it and they still don't recognize our petition?"
"We have Tout's word," Peryl said. "The Summit wants us more involved in local affairs. They always have."
"But will they honor this promise?" Mofitan aimed the question at Shayd, and they all turned to him, stared at the Seer who should have all the answers.
The scent of jasmine had followed them inside. It filled his senses now, thick like the Temple fumes. He let it in, let it lift him up and out of himself so that he could drift amidst the fronds in the courtyard outside the glass—a much more inviting place than inside of it. They discussed details, suspicions. They debated tactics, but Shayd knew these things for trifling. He would leave Fourteen on a transport before another day had passed. He would leave Shrouded space to serve as this mediator for the Choma peoples.
He saw foggy images, the flash of a silver cat between the leaves. In truth, there were only gravel pathways, but Shayd saw the beast just the same. Its pelt shimmered like the droplets decorating the foliage. Padding on all fours it stood as tall as Shayd's shoulder, and the round head swiveled gracefully to fix him in eyes like the embers he kept as a constant fire in his brazier.
“What say you, Shayd?” Mofitan spoke at his shoulder.
When he turned away from the glass, he found all eyes on him. What did he say? Talking had never been his thing. He inerpreted the song of the Heart, watched for patterns in the smoke. Now, he saw a Summit hungry to solve its problem using outsiders instead of its own resources. He suspected that, as much as he suspected the Shrouded petitions for membership had been delayed for just this purpose. They Summit had left them dangling until it needed a favor.
He met Peryl's gaze, focused on the king and let the answer show on his face.
“He will go to Choma,” the king proclaimed. “He will mediate the reconciliation and then the Summit will accept our membership.”
“And if these Uraru don’t want to reconcile?” Mofitan reclaimed his customary growl. “Then what?”
“Then we will find out why, and do our best to negotiate another solution.”
“There has to be a reason they don’t want the Tolfarians back. The Summit isn’t giving us all the information. That Tout…”
“Mof,” Dolfan spoke in a dry, level voice. “This will be Shayd’s task, I believe.”
“I’m going too.” Mof said it in a hush, but it had a firmness to it. “It’s not safe to send the Seer without a guard.”
“He’s right,” Peryl nodded and gave a small hop that landed him in the midst of them, in the center of the room. “Mofitan will go. You will pilot one of the Bride collectors. Tout says the Choma-uraru don’t like outside interference any more than we do. He believes our ship will be more likely received with good results. Take Haftan as well.”
“Jadyek must stay on Shroud,” Shayd felt compelled to add, though he hated the sound of his voice, echoing in the open room. “He has a plan to alter the Bride training. A good plan.”
“Does he?” Peryl tittered and turned to Jadyek, who, now that his moment in the spotlight appeared, fumbled with his wrappings and managed to look terrified.
“He does, and we should heed it.” Shayd didn’t add that Jadyek’s heartbond would be forthcoming. He could sense the man’s match only a little ways out, and didn’t care to rob the other Prince of the thing all the Shrouded coveted most…the thing even he coveted most.
“Good!” Mofitan put a hand on Shayd’s shoulder briefly before remembering himself. He laughed anyway, a bellow from deep in the man’s violet chest. “It’s settled. We can leave on Tout’s timetable, and be to Choma in less than a week.”
“I wish to send some good will gifts to the Chomans,” Peryl said. “A private gesture from our people, and nothing Tout needs to worry himself over.”
“We can have an elevator shipment brought by morning,” Haftan muttered from his slump on the couch.
“Good.” Peryl missed his distress and grinned like a fool. “It’s settled. It will only be a few weeks in the interim.”
Peryl itched to return to Shroud. Shayd could sense it. The Heart called its king even while it ejected the Seer. They filed out slowly, commenting to the king or one another like birds in the background. Shayd watched the courtyard. He squinted and tried to see the cat again. Mofitan and Dolfan held back, waited to speak to him most likely. He could sense their urgency, and he let them stew in it a little and focused on Haftan’s back. Haftan had left through the
courtyard, and his slow amble gave Shayd plenty of time to examine the man. He needed something, their guilty Prince. Haftan needed redemption fast, or they were going to lose him.
“We’ve fallen serious so quickly,” Dolfan spoke first.
That earned a snarl from Mofitan.“I say it’s about time. We waxed too leisurely for too long.”
Good to see they could still argue, that something remained the same.
“Our spirits were lighter then. There is something to be said for that, for a little frivolity,” Dolfan said.
“If I remember correctly that light spirit led us straight into an invasion," Mof said.
“Maybe.” Dolfan sighed. He didn’t give Mof back the fight he wanted, a tactic that seemed to work. It infuriated Mofitan instead.
“Maybe you’re safe enough away on Eclipsis to have forgotten us?” he snapped, and Shayd heard steps. Better to diffuse them himself than to have them tumble through the glass.
“Eclipsis is hardly safe,” he interjected. “Nor will it be for some time.”
That quieted them. Shayd heard their feet shuffling, the rustle of their robes. He needn’t say anything further. Mofitan, at least, had learned to trust him. That would have to be enough.
Dolfan left that evening, returned to his own troubles on Eclipsis. The Shrouded slept in an empty bride dormitory, on couches that were designed for much smaller occupants. Shayd woke with a kink in his spine and a dark mood brewing. He wasn't the only one, either. By the time he'd dressed, eaten, and made his way to the docking bays, his crankiness had abated slightly. Mofitan's, however, had not.
The ship they would take waited for them between the trading vessels on the main level. Mof stood beside the loading ramp, fuming at one of the reptilian traders.
“We aren’t taking tourists,” Mofitan snarled at the stubby green man, but the Shevran only flared yellowish and bobbed his head. “I don’t care what you were promised.”
Seen (Heartstone Book 2) Page 5
