“No. I’ve been asking,” Terrell said, “but I haven’t heard anything.”
“I got Jean to share local gossip when I went with her on her errands,” Adara said. “The big house where we’re looking after the animals gave a good opening. Jean has a lively interest in goings-on in town—very lively. Since the Old One entertains very rarely, her entire social life is elsewhere. I think she’d know any juicy rumors.”
“Did she,” Terrell asked curiously, “say anything more about people with something to hide?”
“Not in so many words.” Adara tilted her head to one side, sorting through her memory. “I do have the impression that, while she respects the Old One and is very pleased to have the prestige and status that goes with working for him, she doesn’t precisely like him. They came to the job through Joffrey. He had worked for the Old One when he was younger, came back when he heard that the couple who had been taking care of the Sanctum were moving to be closer to their grandchildren.”
“Interesting,” Terrell said, “and possibly useful, especially since I think Jean likes you and Sand Shadow.”
“Sand Shadow mostly, at first,” Adara agreed, “but I think I’m bringing her around. Female guests who don’t expect to be waited on are a rarity. Any female guests rare enough at that.”
“The Old One doesn’t have a lady friend, then?”
“Not that Jean has mentioned—and I think she would. My impression is that while the Old One isn’t exactly a misogynist, for all that he looks youthful, he has grown past the time when he wants a woman in his life.”
“Lynn said something like that, too,” Terrell said. “He really is a very strange man.”
“Do you like him?”
“I do sometimes,” Terrell admitted. “There’s a passion to him. When he’s talking about the seegnur or one of his discoveries, it’s as if a flame has come to life. Other times … no. I don’t like him. I don’t think I would even if Lynn and her people hadn’t told us all that. He looks at me—Griffin, too—as if we’re bugs. I’m a sort of interesting beetle. Useful. Attractive in certain lights. Griffin—at least for now—is more like a rare dragonfly: a fast-moving, air-dancing treasure.”
Terrell laughed, self-conscious at these flights of fancy. Adara hastened to reassure him.
“And me, I’m a wasp. A little bit pretty. A little bit dangerous. On the whole, to be avoided.”
Terrell’s smile faded. “Be careful, Adara. I don’t think you’re completely wrong about how the Old One feels about you. When they get too annoying, wasps tend to get swatted … or poisoned.”
“I know that,” Adara said. “That’s why I’m just going to be a nice, dumb girl who’d rather play with her kitty. No claws at all.”
Interlude: Mushroom Cloud
Darkness between encasing tables.
(Mushrooms thrive in darkness.)
A million mushrooms drain a cloud—
suck its blood and all it carries.
Mycelium spread, mosaics interlacing,
lacing, twisting, shaping strings.
A million strings make a tangle, a knot,
a net.
Net works, meshes catching invading flame.
Breaking tables …
(1—1–OO)
Crumbling law …
(------OO)
Spilling god into steam.
(----------)
16
Searching
Griffin continued to spend part of each day trying to open the hidden door. Terrell worked with him but, as was increasingly common now that there were fewer dramatic revelations, the Old One was elsewhere “attending to business.”
“If the door is password-protected,” Griffin said, not for the first time, “even if we do find the controls, they aren’t going to do us any good.”
“Still, finding the controls would give us progress to show the Old One,” Terrell said. “He’s been politeness itself. Maybe it’s his reputation, but I find myself wanted to keep proving myself.”
Griffin nodded. “I was wondering if it was just me. The Old One isn’t unlike my father—superficially calm and controlled, as merits a leader of men. My father was never a shouter or screamer, but I was very aware that his approval rested upon my succeeding. Trying wasn’t enough.”
“Is that why finding Artemis mattered so much?” Terrell asked, continuing to meticulously probe along a possible seam. “I mean, mattered so much that you took such huge risks?”
Once, Griffin would have denied any such thing but, somehow, Terrell had gotten under his skin. More and more, Griffin found himself confiding in the other man things he himself hadn’t even considered.
“I think you may be right—especially since, if I’d started recruiting assistants, there would have been no way I could have avoided taking one or more of my brothers along.”
“And your brothers would have taken over,” Terrell said. “Yeah. There are men like that. Even if they’d sworn to obey you, it wouldn’t have mattered. They’d have found a way to bend the restrictions.”
“Bend,” Griffin said thoughtfully. He stood there silently for so long that Terrell straightened and stared up at him. “Terrell, you just may have been brilliant. We’ve been looking at this whole problem from a solely technological angle. No matter how advanced they were, the seegnur were still human. We’ve evidence enough that they hadn’t evolved beyond human weaknesses and that means…”
He put a hand down and all but hoisted Terrell to his feet. “Come on. I want to go over to the residential wing. You’ve given me a thought.”
Terrell stared at him. “Going to tell me what it is?”
“Sure…” Griffin hurried on ahead, almost at a run. “Remember how I said that the icons used on Artemis may have been designed for this planet? Well, that means that new arrivals would have needed to be taught them. I just realized that one possible reason we haven’t found any guide sheets or directories to the icons is that knowledge of them was restricted to people who worked in this facility.”
Terrell caught the drift of Griffin’s thinking immediately. “Restricted because the people administering Artemis would not have wanted their visitors to be able to operate the machinery or open any door they happened by.”
They were at the top of the stairs leading down into the residential wing. Terrell took a pair of oil lanterns from the cabinet the Old One had ordered Joffrey to set up, expertly trimmed the wicks, then lighted them.
He kept talking as he did so. “If the seegnur were even a little like the people who have come down to us through the lore, they would not have liked being told any area was off-limits or restricted. A curious or bored visitor might have decided to go exploring on his or her own.”
“Only to be foiled by instructions they couldn’t decipher,” Griffin said, accepting his lantern and leading the way down. “That’s the first part of it. The second part also has to do with human nature. Say you’re someone newly stationed here. You’ve memorized all the pertinent icons, but you’re apprehensive you might forget them.”
“Wouldn’t they have copies in those portable data storage units you’ve talked about?”
“Not if the codes were meant to be kept absolutely secret,” Griffin said. “Devices like that were designed to be connected into larger networks. At least in the Kylee Dominion, it’s pretty common for bosses to have override codes that disable even password-protected material. Basically, the only really secure place to store something is between your ears.”
Terrell rubbed at the stubble of his beard, as he often did when some thought made him uncomfortable. “If we’re to believe the lore, in the time of the seegnur, even a person’s thoughts weren’t safe. There were specialists who read minds as easily—even more easily—than Adara and Sand Shadow read each other.”
“True,” Griffin replied, “but we have ample evidence that the mind reading talent was not common. If it had been, then the betrayals that led to the fall of the empire could not ha
ve happened.”
“Point,” Terrell said. “We’re heading toward the smaller crew quarters. Shall I read your mind, seegnur?”
Griffin started, then realized the other was teasing. “By all means, Factotum.”
“You’re hoping that someone at some time wrote a cheat sheet, just in case they forgot one of the icons. We’re going to the smaller quarters because they’re likely where the lower ranked staff—which would include most of the new arrivals—would have been housed.”
“That’s it,” Griffin agreed. “I also noticed that those rooms showed the least sign of having been gone over by the invaders—probably because they weren’t interested in people of lower rank.”
Terrell grinned, white teeth flashing in the lantern light. “Human nature again. I’ve talked with the Old One about getting help to record what’s in this wing. He’s planning on starting with the larger suites—and the hospital.”
“I’m not sure human nature changes much,” Griffin said. “Even the adapted, like Adara and Bruin, are human at the core.”
He paused. He’d gotten so comfortable with Terrell that only at times like this did he remember that—on one level, at least—they were rivals. Still, it was ridiculous not to mention Adara. They saw her every day, ate meals with her, even—now that Griffin had given up being quite so obsessive—took some time for riding or swimming or games of marbles.
But he couldn’t escape it. He didn’t know how he felt about Adara—except that it was something more complicated than friendship—and that made …
Terrell cut in as Griffin’s thoughts began to curve into one of their complexly layered spirals. “Searching is going to be pretty hard by lantern light, especially with all these old textiles and other flammables around. I wonder if we should ask Adara if she’d help out? Her ability to see even when there isn’t much light would save a lot of trouble.”
Griffin frowned. “Did the Old One suggest using her that way?”
“Not in so many words,” Terrell said. “I don’t think he’s very comfortable with her. I have to admit, I have trouble imagining Adara down here, surrounded by a bunch of loremasters. They’re used to being respected and have a tendency to give orders.”
Griffin tugged at a lock of hair that was tumbling into his eyes. He really had to decide whether he was going to let it grow out like a native’s or cut it short again.
“Do you think Adara would help us?”
Terrell shrugged. “We can ask. I don’t think she’d spend all her time inside, but she is a huntress and this is a hunt.”
“Then, if we don’t find anything, let’s ask.”
They found many things but light proved to be a severely limiting factor. That afternoon, when they went to exercise the horses, Griffin put their proposition to Adara.
The huntress’s amber eyes lit with lively interest. “That would be fun! Can you show me your list of the icons you’ve found? I’ve seen them here and there, but a complete list would help me know what we’re looking for.”
Griffin warmed at her enthusiasm. Maybe they weren’t as far apart as he’d been imagining. “Absolutely. We’ve made several copies. I’ll get you one as soon as we return to the Sanctum.”
“When are we starting our search?”
“I thought after dinner.”
Adara glanced up at the skies, then over the bay, and came to some conclusion. “That would be fine.”
* * *
Adara was delighted to have an excuse to poke around the subterranean areas of the Sanctum. Terrell’s reports had far from satisfied her curiosity, both about the place and the hints it might give about the long-vanished seegnur.
Griffin’s arrival had answered the biggest question: Why hadn’t the seegnur returned? Many Artemesian religions had been built around supplying answers to this. The one Adara’s family had followed—and which had influenced her, even though she had left to live with Bruin when she had been very young—was that the time of the seegnur had been a training period for the people of Artemis. The seegnur had departed in a fashion that left no doubt as to their fallibility. Now the divine forces desired the people of Artemis prove themselves fitting heirs.
Bruin had thought this as good an explanation as any, although his own faith was a blending of science and personal mysticism. In any case, he had shown no desire to undermine Adara’s belief that it was up to her to prove herself the best she could be.
Griffin’s revelations had not particularly shaken Adara, but she knew that there were those who would be unsettled, even furious, to learn that the seegnur had proven as argumentative and self-destructive as a farrow of piglets. The question of how those religions would react when—even if—they learned the truth could be comfortably postponed. The one reaction that could not be ignored was that of the Old One Who Is Young.
Over dinner, the Old One listened attentively as Griffin and Terrell outlined their new approach. Pretending to be more interested in her meal than the men’s plan, Adara watched their host’s reactions. She thought the Old One was pleased, but she felt a sneaking suspicion Griffin was not living up to the Old One’s idea of what a seegnur should be.
“I will join you,” the Old One said as the dinner plates were cleared away and an apricot tart brought in. “Griffin, I am certain you will agree that we cannot disrupt the crew quarters in our hope we will find a document that may not exist.”
“Of course,” Griffin agreed easily. “However, I will admit I had the impression that you were unsatisfied with our progress.”
The Old One gave a thin-lipped smile. “Unsatisfied? Not in the least. I am certainly eager for some great revelation. However, whatever is here has waited five hundred years. Surely it can wait even a year or two more.”
The fleeting expression that passed over Griffin’s face made it quite clear that he did not wish to wait a year or two, but he did not speak his protest aloud.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we should make note of where everything in each room is located before we disturb it. That way we will not later regret our haste.”
Griffin frowned. “In my own world we have machines that would do such a thing in seconds. What do you suggest we use here?”
“Sketches,” the Old One said. “Nothing overly detailed, simply enough that if some area is disturbed we can return it to its place.”
Griffin’s frown deepened. “I can sketch a little, but I am neither fast nor particularly efficient.”
Terrell cut in. “Both sketching and cartography were part of my training as a factotum.”
The Old One nodded approval. “I will send for some of the local loremasters. I have worked with them before and they understand what I require.”
“But won’t they be curious about Griffin?” Adara said. “Loremasters would be the most likely to detect that he is not Artemesian. I thought we agreed to keep his true nature a secret.”
“True. I have some thoughts as to a substitute biography for him. Moreover, Griffin can work with Terrell and stay away from the others as much as possible.”
“But recruiting the loremasters doesn’t mean we can’t begin searching this evening,” Griffin pressed. “I remember one room that was pretty bare. It might have been uninhabited at the time of the raid. We can start there. Old One, I have the impression you also can sketch.”
“Yes. I have acquired some skill over these many years.”
“Good. Then you start on another room. That way it will be ready to be searched when we’re done with the first.”
Adara swallowed a slice of apricot tart to cover her grin at the Old One’s astonishment at being assigned such a menial task—and at being given orders.
But he wanted this done. He can hardly protest that he is too important to participate.
Although they went over the first room meticulously, it yielded nothing of use, nor did the second. Eventually, Adara excused herself.
“I need to go stretch,” she said. �
�It’s going to be ages before another room is ready for me anyhow.”
No one protested. Adara suspected that they would quit work soon. Tempers were wearing thin as, again and again, the Old One’s insistence on drawing everything came up against Griffin’s certainty that the location of a pillow or dust-encrusted blanket did not matter in the greater sense of things.
As Adara slipped outside to join Sand Shadow, she found herself wondering. Is the Old One deliberately trying to slow down the search? Is he perhaps less eager than he seems to find out more about the seegnur? Or is he merely challenged by Griffin in a way he has not been for many decades?
* * *
Although they didn’t find the cheat sheet in those first days, they did find a number of items that led to considerable speculation about what the seegnur valued. Evidence that the staff had plenty of contact with the local community was shown by the trinkets and textiles that decorated their rooms.
There was also ample evidence of trade that was less open. Hidden in some truly ingenious places were bottles of locally brewed beverages, hallucinogenic preparations, and even pornography. All of this led Griffin to argue that the landing facility staff was kept on a pretty short leash and—in the manner of such groups in every planet he had visited—had found a way around the rules.
“They certainly had a good trade network,” Terrell said after translating the archaic script that identified the contents of a glass container that now only held scraps of brownish material. “The particular mushroom used in this preparation grows only in the tropics. We’ve often wished we could acquire some because it apparently permitted pain control without dulling mental acuity.”
The Old One had arrived to view this latest find. Turning the bottle in his slender fingers, he said, “Artemis in the days of the seegnur was different, even for the Artemisians. With the seegnur’s universal rule to keep the peace, merchants could expect their goods would make it to port.”
“What about storms and such?” Griffin asked. “Did the seegnur provide weather control?”
Artemis Awakening Page 23
