Farfetch tdt-2

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  “I wouldn’t call it that.” But–she thought at Jindigar– if you recover, maybe we can renegotiate? She hardly noticed Darllanyu’s parting glance, weighing her. She was busy taming the wild hope thundering in her breast. She’d whipped Desdinda. If Jindigar survived, maybe…

  In the following days Darllanyu accepted Krinata’s vigils at Jindigar’s side, and between them and the Lehiroh, somebody was always with him. Even so, he developed sores, and the skin seemed loose over his giant frame. His teeth faded to a chalk white, and the normally springy nap of his skin became limp and unpleasant to the touch.

  On the other side of the river they found themselves in the neighborhood of the settlement. Here the rolling hills flattened, dotted with clumps of a new kind of short tree, clinging to the banks of the numerous streams. And they saw the first of the gargantuan herbivores—about as large as a land animal could be under this gravity and seeming larger by casting an illusion of size. They roamed the plain in groups structured like a hive, symbiotic to stationary hives.

  They moved in groups of a hundred or more, munching the tops of trees, females with nursing calves at the center of the herd. But Darllanyu explained, “They return to their habitat at night, carrying food for those who don’t forage. The calves are not borne by the ones suckling them but by bearers who stay in the habitat with others who defend it. The habitat isn’t a constructed dwelling, just a portion of land. And they migrate with the seasons, almost never returning to the same locale the next year.”

  The Dushau advised their party to stay well clear of the herds, as they seemed restless, and the triad distrusted them. Once or twice they saw members of different species traveling with large herds, and Cy remarked how unusual that was. Darllanyu said, “We think this’s the echo of the Squadron’s activities. Ever since their camp was hit by the tornadoes, the Squadron has become more vicious—destroying hives of all sorts. These creatures are forming alliances, preparing to fight a common enemy headed in this direction.”

  “But they’re just beasts!” objected Fenwick.

  “Yes,” agreed Darllanyu. “Beasts of Phanphihy.”

  One midday they came across another kind of oversize herbivore, a single shaggy brown animal. The caravan stopped, for the loner was being stalked by a pack of wolf-like creatures. Darllanyu narrated the stalking ritual with the detachment of a naturalist shepherding tourists, the flatness of her voice showing that she spoke for the triad as she ended, “Those hunters could turn on us if they don’t get their prey, and we don’t want to attract the attention of this growing network of hives.”

  Settling her sled into place, Krinata climbed up to quiet the children, who clung to her more now. They were riding with Jindigar, keeping the piols from inadvertently smothering him. No sooner had she topped the edge of the cargo than Imp tore loose from the Cassrians and ran down to the ground. Before anyone could act, the piol had dashed headlong into the stalkers’ pack, screaming dementedly.

  Krinata was sure that in moments there’d be nothing but shredded piol fur where Imp had been. But the stunned creatures eyed the mad furball and broke ranks. In moments the hunters had disappeared, the grass waving in their wake. Imp scrambled up the herbivore’s shaggy brown pelt and perched atop its flat head, chattering for all he was worth, as if trying to steer it away from them.

  “Wait right here!” Krinata commanded the Cassrians.

  She climbed down and ran to the front of the caravan where Darllanyu and Cy watched the performance. As she came up Cy was asking, “What made him do that?”

  Darllanyu said, ‘There’s one possibility—” And she pushed past Krinata to head for the sleds.

  Krinata asked, “How are we going to get him back?”

  “Good question,” said Cy. “I’m not going out there. I’ve seen those things squash critters bigger than I am.”

  Cy had not had his life saved by the piol, nor did he know how Jindigar could be revived by the small beast’s loving. “Well, then, I’ll go!” said Krinata, tucking her shirt into her trousers as she breasted the tall grass.

  Cy started after her. “No! I—”

  Krinata was halfway to the beast when the herbivore tossed his head, causing Imp to clutch with sharp fishing claws. Enraged by the pain, the huge creature roared, stomped, then reared back on squatting hind legs, two cloven hooves pawing the air. As Krinata tried to retreat, a front hoof caught her on the side of the head, and she went down.

  Shouting, Cy distracted the beast from its intent to pound her to death. Through the ringing in her ears and the roaring beast, she heard Darllanyu call, “Cy, Rita’s pregnant! Imp’s protecting her!”

  And then everything receded into blackness.

  *

  “Krinata!” Terab’s voice, furry Holot hands and face.

  She came to in a bedroll, camp fire lighting their usual shelter, bandages around her head. The huge herbivore was gone, and she thought she’d dreamed it until she remembered it had clobbered her with a hoof. “Imp? Is he all right?”

  “Of course,” scoffed Terab. “He’s indestructible. But you’re not. Had to carry you all afternoon. Irnils!” she bellowed to her mate. “Bring Krinata some soup.”

  Remarkably, after that and a double dose of medicine she was able to get to the latrine, and the next morning, despite a crashing headache, she pulled her sled, though not the tandem rig. She was determined that her stupidity wasn’t going to delay getting Jindigar to the help he needed. They had told her how Darllanyu had gotten Rita to call Imp back, and then the herbivore had simply left. She hoped she’d learned her lesson. Next time trust the triad!

  Oddly, in the next couple of days, she saw Adina and Viradel watching her, not at all contemptuous, though she’d made a fool of herself. She didn’t understand those people.

  On the seventeenth day after the hive they came to the cliff overlooking the settlement. A strange sense of deja vu haunted Krinata as she surveyed her new home. They were standing near a rope-and-board elevator rigged at the edge of the cliff, and below them the settlement spread out between the base of the cliff and a broad, winding river. Up on the cliff edge, far to their right, Dushau and ephemerals were constructing something near a waterfall.

  Darllanyu pointed to the waterfall. “Our power station. The water wheel is going already, down below. We’ll have our generators in before winter, but we’ve shut down all ship’s power until the Squadron leaves.” She gestured to their left where, in the shadow of the cliff, metal hulls gleamed.

  Across from where the waterfall spilled into the river, there was a gravel mine. Roads had been laid out around groups of buildings and out to distant plowed fields. All around, crews of Dushau and ephemerals were graveling the roads, building, hauling, plowing. To their right a large log stockade shaped like a tilted parallelogram surrounded some log buildings, mostly still under construction. All those within the stockade were Dushau.

  Darllanyu pointed out the two largest buildings within the stockade, the Aliom and Historians’ temples, saying, “We’ve had to exclude ephemerals already because some of us have been thrown into Renewal by the repeated shocks of the last year.” Then she identified the clay mine on the far side of the river, downstream from the gravel pit. “It’s not the best grade, but it will do for a while.” On one beach at the edge of the river, a kiln was rising. Beyond a cluster of foundations for houses and barns was a corral where local animals were being trained to pull wagons, and already some teams of beasts were dragging logs in from the stand of tall trees beyond the river.

  There had to be at least a thousand people working below them. Krinata asked, “How many Dushau altogether?”

  “Four hundred thirteen,” answered Darllanyu.

  “Humans?”

  “Over two hundred. Cassrians, Holot, and Lehiroh account for several hundred more.”

  Before Krinata could ask about children, they were spotted, and a group of humans and Holot gathered. They harnessed a beast to a horizontal wheel and pu
lley to power the elevator. Once down at the settlement’s level, Krinata, like everyone else, was caught up in the exuberance of a warm greeting. She saw the Cassrian children welcomed by a Cassrian couple, the children thrilled by the unbridled curiosity of others of their own species.

  Krinata was drawn into a group of six human young women fussing over her scrapes and bruises, insisting she be seen by their physician. As she was swept away from Jindigar, she looked back and saw Darllanyu accompanying his litter toward the Dushau compound, two other Dushau clustering about them.

  She smothered an urge to break away and run to Jindigar, knowing she’d be barred from the private compound, and with good reason. But her mind refused to focus on those welcoming her to the unattached women’s house.

  They’d built their house larger than a family cabin, and as yet it lacked glazing in the windows, interior walls, and furniture, though they had indoor water taps and would soon have toilets.

  “We have to haul the water into the cistern on the roof, but we can have a warm shower when the sun’s up. Wait until we get the solar heaters made and the power pumps in!”

  As they regaled her with their plans they insisted she shower. Then the doctor arrived. She was a middle-aged woman with a dark chocolate complexion and bright black eyes that saw everything in a flicker. Her hair was cropped painfully short and clung to her head tightly. She wore the same tough cord trousers and tunic as everyone else but with the effortless elegance of the born aristocrat. Poised and unruffled, she examined Krinata without instruments, then corroborated her findings with field sensors. “Practicing against the day when these are gone. Even though they’re Dushau manufacture, they’ll wear out someday!”

  The results tallied, and the doctor announced, “You’re one lucky woman indeed. No concussion, no broken bones, no permanent internal injuries. You’ll be fine as soon as the bruises heal.” She rebandaged Krinata’s head and left a locally grown herb potion for pain, “Our pharmaceuticals won’t last long, so we’d best get used to these.”

  Krinata surveyed her body as she dressed in the clean clothes the women provided. Leaner than she’d ever been, she had muscles she’d never have believed before, and the exposed skin areas were incredibly dark compared to her untanned skin. She was no office worker anymore.

  The other women had gone back to work, but the cook, an older woman who reminded Krinata of her mother, insisted she eat a hot meal—native foods, but cooked with familiar spices. She couldn’t enjoy it, though, her mind plagued with thoughts of the risks Darllanyu might be taking right now to save Jindigar. She was gnawing on a fruit when there was a sound at the door, which stood open in the heat of the day.

  A male Dushau voice asked, “Is Krinata Zavaronne here?”

  “Who may I say is asking?” inquired the cook, trying to sound like an important servant of a Lady.

  Krinata, recognizing Dushau tones, went to the door, heart pounding in sudden anxiety. He’s not dead!

  The Dushau replied, “My name is Zannesu, and I’ve come with a message from Darllanyu.”

  “I’m Krinata Zavaronne.”

  “Darllanyu requests your presence.”

  “Jindigar! Is he—”

  “When I left, he was alive. Darllanyu wishes you to understand that you will not be welcomed by all but that your presence is necessary.”

  Krinata handed the half-eaten fruit to the cook, mumbling, “Thank you—I’ll be back,” and plunged out into the afternoon sun, taking the trail toward the Dushau compound before her escort could show her the way.

  After the brief taste of acceptance the human women had shown her, Krinata was doubly chilled by the stares she gathered as Zannesu took her through the gate of the Dushau stockade. Evidently her involvement with the triad had quickly become common knowledge, for everyone they passed—road crews, wagon drivers, loggers, carpenters, miners, fishers and hunters—stopped to inspect her with the curious apprehension usually reserved for a new species.

  They entered the stockade at the acute angle of the parallelogram closest to the clusters of dwellings of the ephemerals. There was no actual closable gate. Instead, two walls curved out to embrace each other creating an S-shaped, open portal that blocked all view of the interior. Beyond the portal, walls were being built out from the stockade walls to form an inner chamber. Here foundations of stalls– perhaps a market or visitors’ area—were being laid.

  All the workers were Dushau, young and old, male and female. She spotted several Dushau races with distinctive features or mottled coloring. As Zannesu led her through the inner walls, a murmur followed them. She felt a chill of unwelcome she knew wasn’t Dushau hauteur but rational fear.

  Dushau entering Renewal were not emotionally stable. Even Dushau children under a thousand years old were not permitted to travel off-planet because they, too, were not to be trusted to deal rationally with ephemerals. Only after first Renewal could they earn passports by meeting stringent requirements. Krinata walked close to Zannesu, keeping her eyes down, determined not to offend anyone, no matter what.

  They came out in the wide area of the central compound, where already there were foundations of another pair of interlocking walls built out from the oblique corners to divide the main compound in half.

  Zannesu took her elbow firmly. “With your permission, Lady Zavaronne, we must go quickly through here to Aliom.”

  She yielded, lengthening stride as they turned into a graveled path among long buildings and cabins with closed courtyards. They had the same steeply pitched roofs as the ephemerals’ cabins, but the walls rarely formed right angles, most windows were round or oblong, and doors were concealed. Small gardens had been tilled, but only tiny brown shoots had broken the russet surface. In one building a skylight was being installed—the first glass she’d seen.

  At her question Zannesu explained, without slackening pace, “The first attempt to make glass produced very low-grade material. We’ve found a better sand now, so the next batch should be good enough for windows. This must be accomplished before winter.”

  “Are the glaziers Dushau?” asked Krinata.

  “Some are. We’ve gathered here artisans in every trade. That’s why Jindigar’s so important to us, for he’ll be our greatest expert on Sentient computers, as well as our Active Priest to form a new Oliat—if he survives. With an Oliat we might achieve the industrial base for orbital flight in a thousand years, and Sentient computers within fifteen hundred—by the time the new galactic government discovers us.”

  Krinata couldn’t help contrasting this with the women’s ambitions for a water heater and power pump to fill the cisterns. The Dushau perspective was dizzying, yet familiar. For the first time in days Takora was with her, quietly, without fuss, making this alien community seem like home.

  They emerged into an open court circled by a cultivated area where Dushau were transplanting saplings that would, in the blink of an eye, perhaps only a few centuries, grow into a circular wall of trees shading the two buildings within.

  Two large buildings, virtually identical, faced one another. Each was half-roofed, a pile of shake shingles beside the longest wall. Zannesu took her to a front entry of one building while the gardeners peered at her unhappily.

  There was scaffolding over the entry they took, and a craftsman was carving words beneath a replica of the lightning flash over the portal. Krinata was a slow reader in Dushauni but had seen that particular quote before.

  SIXTH OBSERVATION OF SHOSHUNRI

  Fidelity is the most demanding Law of Nature, thus the most highly rewarded.

  From: Purpose and Method

  by: Shoshunri,

  Observing Priest of Aliom

  Now she knew Shoshunri’s title meant he had once been an Oliat Center. Her eyes lingered on the quotation, as if Takora felt it was important.

  As she followed Zannesu between the overlapping walls of the entry way, it suddenly dawned on her. Jindigar had never, ever been loyal to the Emperor, the Empire, or
his friends, as she had always thought. He strove for a higher virtue, fidelity. It explained so many of his contradictory actions; he kept his oaths, regardless of how he’d misjudged a situation. He’d abandoned the Emperor only after the Emperor had broken fealty. If she knew all the Aliom oaths a priest took, she’d have understood his reticence.

  With that insight came a deeper one. Aliom rejected Inversion because it was resorted to when one had lost the fidelity between one’s internal model of the universe and the external, objective reality, and thus could not find one’s place in the overall pattern. After having misjudged the pattern, a person was tempted to Invert to correct that mistake by forcing the pattern to conform to their presence.

  If fidelity was a law of nature, men Inversion was a breaking of that law, unless one’s internal model -of reality had absolute fidelity, and one was in fact in me” proper place—and the pattern had become distorted. One might then Invert to restore the pattern expecting to survive it, as Jindigar had.

  She rounded the last curve into the Aliom temple, desperate for time to think, but about two dozen Dushau were looking at her. They sat on the floor in a circle, most holding strange Dushau musical instruments. Jindigar’s whule reserved a place just before Krinata. Beyond the circle, where the roof was still open and sunlight shafted down between uncovered rafters, a huge carving that would eventually be the Oliat symbol, the X supported at the crux by an arrow, stood half-finished. Piles of construction debris had been swept aside to clear the floor.

  In the center of the Dushau’s circle under the finished roof, there was a fireplace and chimney of smooth river stones. Despite the warmth of the day a fire burned in the center of the raised hearth. She saw Jindigar lying on his side under a thermal blanket, surrounded by Darllanyu and several others.

  “Jindigar!” she gasped, and dashed to him, heedless of protocol. Kneeling, she took his hands, which were clenched to his chest, and felt the tremors shaking him, as bad as when Desdinda had died. She glanced around at Zannesu and accused, “You didn’t tell me he was like this!”