Michael Cobley - Humanity's Fire book 1

by Seeds of Earth

  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