rassed, but it was an undeniable fact that the Enhanced,
failed or not, were treated differently and not especially
positively, even though the programme ended years ago.
And Solvjeg would then wonder why she had lied and
might jump to conclusions about her and Greg ...
Catriona gnawed her lip - and what if she asked
Greg if they were involved? The embarrassment would
be unbearable.
But before she could brood any further, her comm
gave its cheery little call tune. Seeing it was Greg, she
thumbed the accept and answered.
'Hello, Greg.'
'Cat, I thought you should know that our visiting
VIP has just disembarked from his executive zeplin and
will be here shortly. Can you meet me at the mural
wall?'
'I'm on my way,' she said, heading for the stairs.
'Incidentally, will you be able to wait behind after
this circus is over? There's some new findings I'd like
your opinion on.'
'Sounds interesting,' she said. 'I'd like that.' And
hopefully I'll get up the courage to tell you what I said
before you hear it from your mother.
'Excellent,' he said. 'See you shortly.'
Finishing off the last of the yellowbead, she left the
glass next to the waiter's table and hurried downstairs,
wishing for the umpteenth time that she was back on
Nivyesta.
14
CHEL
In an alcove at the top of a grassy slope, Cheluvahar sat
with Listener Weynl and two other Uvovo scholars,
watching the Human gathering. All had listened intently
to the piper, who finished to an enthusiastic round of
applause, and now another group of musicians was com-
mencing on a variety of stringed and wind instruments.
'Humans are always making songs and stories,' Chel
said. 'Interesting to discover that other races create sim-
ilar things.'
'But not surprising,' said Listener Weynl. 'An exis-
tence divided always seeks attunement, ways to bridge
the gap between the mind and the eternal. Songs and
stories are expressions of the need for attunement, but
when that becomes a yearning to hear the voice of the
eternal it leads to gods and demons, holy books and
such things as the Dreamless.'
Chel knew the principles of attunement well, as did
every Uvovo - from birth the vital rhythms of Segrana
were part of blood and breath and the daily pulse of
living. But Humans had to imagine, needed to imagine
the entirety of the world beyond their own poor senses,
trying to bridge the gap with illusions.
Some distance away from where they sat, a solitary
four-armed figure came into view, pacing deliberately
along the perimeter of the temple site as it had done for
well over an hour. It - there was no outward indication
of gender - was a member of the Sendrukan envoy's
bodyguard, a squad of Ezgara commandos. It wore
some kind of close-fitting, full-body dull blue armour,
with a near-black visor covering the face and no obvious
sign of weapons.
On seeing the soldier making what had to be its
fourth circuit, one of the scholars - a Meshtowner called
Kolumivenur - turned to Weynl.
'Learned one,' he said. 'How can a race such as this
one seek attunement while serving the Sendruka?'
'I know little about these Ezgara,' Weynl said. 'But it is
clear that they have given themselves over to the needs
and methods of military service, just as many Humans
here do. I have heard it said, however, that Ezgara soldiers
are fanatically loyal to their Sendruka masters, in which
case I find myself wondering what kind of people require
utter obedience from their servants. But then, we now
know that all the worlds of the Sendruka, their society
and culture and government, are permeated with the
Dreamless. Machine minds are everywhere, spying,
manipulating, and coordinating the resources of a vast
empire, which clearly include these Ezgara. Perhaps they
in turn extract a kind of obedience from the Sendruka.'
'What of the Humans from Earth,' said the other
scholar, Tesobrenilor by name. 'Some of them have the
Dreamless . . . tiny machines planted inside their heads,
just like this High Monitor Kuros and his companions.
Can they be trusted?'
'Everything they see and hear reaches the Dreamless,'
Weynl said. 'At the time of the War of the Long Night,
the Dreamless were joined to one another by a hidden
web that reached into the underlayers of existence. We
cannot know if these Dreamless have a similar . . . pat-
tern but in caution we should assume so ...'
The Listener suddenly stopped and looked round.
Following his gaze, the rest saw that the Ezgara com-
mando had paused at the foot of the grassy slope with
the gleaming blackness of its visor angled up at them.
For a moment or two no one moved, then the Ezgara
began to ascend the slope.
'Remain seated,' Weynl said quietly. 'Be calm, there is
nothing to fear.'
As the Listener got to his feet, Chel smiled reassur-
ingly at the other two Uvovo, whose eyes were wide
and bright with alarm.
'Greetings, offworlder,' Weynl said, hands clasped at
his chest. 'I am Listener Weynl of the Warrior Uvovo
and these three are my companions. Please be welcome.'
The Ezgara came to a halt and swept them all with an
invisible gaze.
'Warriors?' The words were in Anglic, spoken in a
flat, slightly buzzing voice. 'I see no weapons.'
'I likewise see none about your person, honoured
guest, yet I am not sure I would recognise them if they
were there.'
The Ezgara gave no reply for a moment, seeming to
stare at Weynl as if studying him. The creature stood
with its major arms hanging loosely at its sides while its
lower, lesser arms were crooked back, hands resting in
pockets. That dull blue armour, which covered every
limb, on closer inspection appeared to consist of a
worn, scored surface over a layer of thumbnail-sized
platelets just discernible through the outer material.
'One amongst you spoke the name of my master, the
High Monitor Utavess Kuros,' the commando said at
last. 'Why?'
'We were only discussing . . .' began Tesobrenilor,
abruptly falling silent when the Ezgara quickly turned
on him.
'It is my duty to protect the High Monitor,' it said.
'Why were you discussing him?'
The Ezgara took a step towards Tesobrenilor, who
backed away in fear. At the same time, Weynl moved in
the commando's direction, one hand starting to reach
out, and the moment he saw this Chel knew what was
about to happen.
'Honoured guest,' the Listener said. 'There has been
a misunderstanding ...'
The commando reacted with a speed so blurring that
afterwards Chel had difficulty recalling the exact<
br />
sequence of movements. Listener Weynl had reached out
to the soldier's lesser arm on the right side and an instant
later he was hurtling backwards through the air. Chel
caught a glimpse of the Ezgara's right-side arms and leg
lowering but it was the Listener who drew every eye. In
mid-flight he somehow twisted his body, robes
fluttering, and flipped over to land on his feet, legs
crouched. Smiling, he straightened and calmly walked
back to where the others stood, staring in astonishment.
'As I explained, honoured guest,' Weynl said, spread-
ing his long-sleeved arms, with his bony hands open and
empty. 'There has been a slight misunderstanding. My
young companion was puzzled as to the meaning of your
exalted superior's title and so, despite my scant knowl-
edge, I attempted a doubtlessly inaccurate interpretation.'
Silence. For several seconds Uvovo stared at Ezgara,
who seemed also to stare back, both perfectly immobile.
Just when Chel thought he could no longer bear the ten-
sion, the Ezgara raised a hand to the side of its helmet as
it looked downslope to where a second commando was
standing. Then without a word it turned its back and
retraced its steps to join the other one. Moments later
both were moving away, patrolling the site perimeter
along the foot of the western crags, as if nothing had
happened. Glancing at Tesobrenilor and Kolumivenur,
Chel saw his own puzzlement mirrored in their features,
along with a certain relief.
Listener Weynl, on the other hand, seemed quite
unperturbed, even as he guided Chel off to one side, a
little way down the incline from the others.
'Once this ceremony is over,' Weynl said in low tones,
'you will be leaving for the Tapiola daughter-forest in
the north. A floating craft shall be waiting for you at the
zeplin station.'
Chel bobbed his head in respect, suddenly excited
and apprehensive. 'I am prepared, Listener.'
Weynl smiled. 'Yes, I thought I was too, when my own
time drew near. My advice would be to put aside all you
have learned and read because your husking will be
unique to you. Which is as it should be.' He breathed in
deep and nodded. 'Now I must depart for Hammergard -
I have an important meeting to attend.'
'But Listener Weynl - who will represent our people
to the Sendrukans?'
'A straightforward task, Scholar, which I am confi-
dent you can undertake. Besides, you are far more
knowledgeable about this delving site than I. A word of
caution, however - should anything unforeseen take
place here, resist any temptation to become involved.'
'Unforeseen?' Chel said. 'Is something bad going to
happen?'
'I do not know,' Weynl said with a kind of sombre
puzzlement. 'The event itself is provoking a sense of
anticipation, but the instinctive violence of that
Ezgara . . .' He surveyed the site's ruins with brooding
eyes. 'Something else is approaching, something nas-
cent . . . but whatever happens stay focused on your
duty and the work to come. The first aspirants are
already gathering down in the Glenkrylov daughter-
forest, so when you return in a few days we will be
ready to begin confirmations for the Artificer Uvovo.'
He gave Chel a fatherly pat on the shoulder and
went to bid the other two goodbye. Chel thought
about the many sheets of notes he had made on the
ancient Uvovo ruins, the ones the Humans knew about
as well as the ones they didn't, and wondered how
much use they would be after he had gone through the
husking.
Weynl waved to them all and Chel watched him
hurry across the uneven floor of the site's western
stretches. A little further on he paused to wave once
more before disappearing behind one of the main walls.
Chel already knew that the most obvious change
wrought by the husking was the physical, a lengthening
of certain bones, including the skull. Was he really ready
for such an alteration? Those Listeners he had got to
know seemed to be mostly sane most of the time, even
Faldri, which was slightly reassuring.
Then these thoughts were chased away by a repetitive
chiming sound coming from one of his waist pouches. It
was the signal from Gregori that all senior duty staff
were to meet outside the site office hut - Kuros was due
soon. Moments later, the three Uvovo scholars were has-
tening back to the prepared gathering place, careful to
avoid the Ezgara commandos, who were still doggedly
patrolling the perimeter.
1 5
GREG
From the moment he got out of bed, nearly an hour
before dawn, the whole day had just been one damned
thing after another. Crates of seating and modular
gazebos had been delivered overnight, and while he
was organising the carriage and assembly teams, two
grey-uniformed OG officers arrived with Institute
authorisation countersigned by Petrovich himself. By
the time he had given them a brief tour of the site and
left them to their own devices, the caterers had turned
up with a variety of containers and the need for some-
where reasonably clean to get ready. The only halfway
suitable place was the recreation hut, so there they
were sent, much to the annoyance of a group of Uvovo
scholars who were just back from the mountains and
enjoying a leisurely game of hexadominoes.
It was then that the Ezgara commandos had
appeared, three quad-armed humanoids in worn, dull
blue battledress, their heads enclosed by black-visored
helmets. Trailing after them was one of the interns, a
young Rus called Pyotr.
'So sorry for this, Mr Cameron,' he said, slightly out
of breath. 'But these gentlemen...'
'That's all right, Pyotr - now that they're here, I'll see
to them.'
Pyotr nodded, shot a glare at the oblivious newcom-
ers and headed back to the site entrance. Greg smiled at
the Ezgara, taking in the details of their armour, their
identical stances and those extra arms.
'Well,' he said. 'You all look very intimidating, I must
say. Are you here in advance of our honoured guest?'
He broke off as one suddenly stepped up close, bring-
ing them face to face. Greg could see his own breath
lightly fogging the commando's faceplate, but he nei-
ther flinched nor backed away.
'I am Juort,' the Ezgara said in a low, rasping voice
that sounded synthetic. 'I command.'
The commandos all appeared of similar height, and
up close Greg could see that he was a little taller than
the one confronting him. If anything this made them
more daunting, not less, but Greg was determined to
hold his ground.
'By an amazing coincidence,' he said, smiling broadly,
'so do 1.1 command this site and its personnel -1 am in
command here, which me
ans that I have the power to
permit you to enter ...'
'I command you ...' began Juort.
'Ah, wait, I don't think ye've got it quite right. Y'see,
you're supposed to ask me if you can ...'
'Mr Cameron? A word, if you please.'
Greg turned to see Ingerson, one of the Office of
Guidance men, giving him a look that said, Are you
completely out of your mind? while beckoning to him.
'Mr Ingerson, how can I help you?'
'The Ezgara commandos are here to assist with the
security arrangements, Mr Cameron,' he said. 'Their
access is covered by our authorisation.'
'I see,' Greg said. 'If only I'd known earlier . . .' He
turned to the Ezgara, but they were already following
Ingerson in single file while ignoring Greg altogether.
'In that case, welcome to Giant's Shoulder! - enjoy your
visit. . .'
Not a head turned in his direction, so he shrugged
and went back to trying to cope with chaos.
The seating was done and three of the gazebos were
up: he'd left the others in their packaging since the latest
forecast was predicting dry, bright conditions for the
rest of the day. The gazebos, however, were serving as
shelters for three groups of exhibits - flora and fauna of
Darien, ruins and remains, and ancient Uvovo culture.
But the flora and fauna cases were empty since the ecol-
ogist and his materials (both on loan from the
university) had so far failed to appear. Hastily, Greg per-
suaded one of the Russian researchers, Andrei, to
assemble a small exhibit from the archive store - fig-
urines, glyphs, decorated artefacts of any kind. It was
going to cost half a bottle of Glenmarra single malt, but
at least the cases would not be bare.
Then the first zeplin-load of guests arrived, bringing
with them a clutch of reporters both local and offworld.
With ruthless ease they bypassed the guides and atten-
dants and tracked Greg down to the supply hut, where
he was checking the water-tank level. Amid a barrage of
brash, bizarre and often fantastical questioning he main-
tained a look of amused tolerance while giving vaguely
surreal one- or two-word answers: it seemed that news
of his encounter with Lee Shan had got around. Before
long they realised that there would be no verbal fire-
works, so off they wandered to hunt other quarry, and
Michael Cobley - Humanity's Fire book 1 Page 13
