Artemis Awakening

by Lindskold, Jane

  “I have not been able to find conclusive evidence of such,” the Old One admitted. “However, weather is only one—some might say the least—of the threats merchants face.”

  “Piracy?” Griffin suggested.

  The Old One nodded. “Piracy is certainly a problem. So are privateers—pirates operating under the guise of law. One of the greatest problems is taxation. In the days of the seegnur, there were no taxes. The infrastructure was supported by the fees the seegnur paid. There were no armies to supply and maintain. Since the slaughter of the seegnur, every little ruler charges for protection, every little town for public services. Merchants, coming as they do from outside, are charged road tolls or harbor fees or to rent stalls in the market.”

  Griffin nodded. “I can see how that would put a damper on long-distance trade. I hadn’t really considered the cascade effect.”

  Adara excused herself, since long discussion of taxation and trade policies wouldn’t be in keeping with her assumed character. As she stepped out into the night, she found herself wondering: It has been a long time since this region had a king. Perhaps that is because, uncrowned as he is, there is a king here no sensible person would cross—he is called The Old One Who Is Young.

  * * *

  Although Adara’s assistance definitely sped the search along, Griffin was the one who found the long-hoped-for “cheat sheet.”

  He’d been pulling apart one of the last of the small rooms, a chamber that—judging by the lack of local goods in its decor and its unfavorable location both next to a service shaft and at the end of a long corridor—could have been given to someone of low rank.

  By now, Griffin had a strong sense of the usual hiding places, as well as for a number of unusual ones. When he found the cheat sheet, it was in a place so obvious Griffin could almost see the fresh-faced innocent who must have hidden it.

  Each chamber was supplied with a bed framed in by cabinetry. Various shelves and tables could be manually pulled out—arguing that there were times when the power supply on Artemis might be interrupted. The cheat sheet was tucked into the underside of one of the lower tables.

  At the time it had been hidden, the sheet would have been completely concealed, but even the seegnur’s high-tech materials had deteriorated over five hundred years. When Griffin poked his head under the edge of the table, he saw a small rectangle outlined against the sagging liner. He carefully eased it out, expecting yet another pornographic drawing or perhaps someone’s attempts at poetry. When he saw the two parallel columns of icons, each annotated with a few neatly printed words, he could hardly believe his good fortune.

  “Terrell!” Rolling from under and up onto his feet, Griffin saw the factotum rounding the doorway, his sketchbook in his hand.

  “Got something?”

  “Do I! Look. The first column is the Artemesian icons. The second are what historians think were universal Imperial icons—at least they’ve been found on planets all over the former empire’s range. The notes aren’t in any of the languages I’ve studied, but there are similarities. Given time, I’m sure I can work a translation.”

  Impulsively, Terrell gave Griffin a bone-creaking hug. “We’d better tell the Old One right away. He’d be furious if he wasn’t the first to know.”

  They found the Old One sorting through the contents of the suite they had guessed belonged to the chief administrator of the landing facility.

  Despite my careful explanations as to why this area was likely to have been thoroughly picked over, Griffin thought, the Old One has clearly never given up his sense that important things will be found where important people lived. Then again, maybe he’s not looking for the same things we are …

  “I’m going to need to sit down and do some translating,” Griffin concluded, “but now that we have a rozeta, it should be infinitely easier.”

  “Rozeta?” Terrell asked curiously.

  “Sorry. Archeology jargon. It means a text containing an unknown language, along with one or more known languages. In this case, the Artemis icons are our unknown, but the other two are at least partially known.”

  “Well,” Terrell said, “it may be a rozeta for you, but it’s meaningless to me. One or two of the icons in the second column look vaguely familiar. The lore says they indicated public services like drinkable water or toilet facilities.”

  “Griffin will be our translator,” the Old One stated. “However, there is no reason why the rest of us should not continue our investigations. We might find something that will add to our information.”

  He’s pissed he didn’t find it here and prove me wrong, Griffin thought.

  “A fine distribution of resources,” Griffin agreed aloud. “It’s still daylight. I’m going to take advantage of it.”

  * * *

  Soon after Griffin found the rozeta, Adara and Sand Shadow paddled out toward the islands one night at low tide, hoping the currents wouldn’t be as strong and they that could walk over the shoals. However, the currents were, if anything, worse and the shoals proved to be made from very jagged rock. The barriers to approaching the islands made Adara more certain than ever that they would be the perfect place for the Old One to hide his secret.

  She and Terrell did their best to find out anything they could about the islands but, other than Terrell finding a tavern performer who knew an old ballad that referred to “Mender’s Isle,” they came up with nothing. The singer didn’t even know if Mender’s Isle was one of the Haunted Islands or not.

  One afternoon, Sand Shadow—who had been perfectly content to do some of her napping where she could keep an eye on the fishing village—noted a surge in activity. She hurried back and sent Adara images of boats sailing in and out, much loading and unloading of boxes and barrels. The final image was more complex.

  Negatives were hard to indicate in pictures. Indicating that Sand Shadow had found trace of deer scent was easy: her sniffing, then one or many deer. They’d had to work harder to figure out how to show the absence of something. Eventually, they’d come up with showing the image, then deliberate blankness. Sand Shadow now gave the negative image for the usual things the fishing boats brought in: fish, crabs, and the like.

  “So,” Adara said, suspecting that Sand Shadow understood her a great deal better than she did the puma. “Boats came in with lots of goods but you don’t think it was the usual catch. Boxes and barrels … That seems to indicate supplies of some sort. Have they left?”

  To reinforce her words, she sent an image of laden boats sailing out of the harbor.

  Sand Shadow repeated her image of the boats still in the harbor.

  “Interesting. Let’s be ready to follow them if they go out after dark.”

  Sand Shadow avidly agreed and loped back to keep watch. Adara joined her at twilight. Little gusts off the bay carried random sounds she associated with the moving of heavy objects. Occasional fragments of commands confirmed this impression. Several times, Adara thought she heard Julyan’s voice.

  Julyan’s whereabouts in Spirit Bay remained a puzzle. Adara had hired Edward Trainer and a few of his siblings to see if they could find where Julyan was staying. She impressed on them that she wanted to find the man, but didn’t want him to know he was found. Accustomed to the complex games used in training the dogs, the children did not find this last in the least strange. However, although they were thorough, the few men they found who met the description Adara gave—which included that the quarry would not be native to Spirit Bay—each turned out to be someone else.

  Adara and Sand Shadow had searched for any indication that Julyan was camping. He might be a hunter, skilled in hiding his sign, but Adara was confident that in combination with Sand Shadow she was as good or better. They also found no trace of him. Adara had almost convinced herself that Julyan had left the area but now, here, she was hearing his voice.

  When twilight shifted to full dark, Adara moved the canoe closer to the fishing village. Then she and Sand Shadow took turns drowsing and watchi
ng for signs that the boats were leaving the harbor. Quite late, after most of the lights in Spirit Bay were doused and the town bulked black at one end of the bay, they heard the ships raising sails.

  Despite the slim chance that any would notice this nocturnal venture, when the fishing fleet moved out every effort was made to keep evidence of their actions to a minimum. Voices were kept low, oars were muffled. The loudest sounds were the squeak and groan of rope and timber.

  Silhouetted against the starlit sky, for the moon was but a pale crescent that gave little light, the fishing boats sailed from their little harbor onto the open waters of the bay. After several ships had departed, Adara and Sand Shadow noiselessly paddled their canoe in pursuit, keeping a respectful distance.

  The fleet—if a handful of fishing boats could be dignified with such a term—sailed out toward the islands, then angled to where the bulk of the islands would hide them from being seen from the town.

  When they were at the farthest end, the fishing boats began to slow. No signal Adara could detect was given but, for the first time that night, a voice spoke above a whisper.

  “Barrier is down. Come through.”

  The voice was Julyan’s. At his command, the fishing boats turned. One after another, they sailed through what had been—when Adara had inspected it—unbroken shoal, certain to rip out the bottom of any boat that drew more than a foot or so of water.

  Although Adara longed to close and inspect more closely, she held back. The currents that had so troubled her canoe would not bother these larger craft. Just because one barrier had been removed did not mean all had been.

  Splashes and thumps indicated that the fishing vessels were relieving themselves of their cargo. Adara and Sand Shadow waited, occasionally paddling to keep from drifting, mostly taking advantage of the still water to rest and restore their strength.

  The unloading did not take long. Clearly the fishing boats wanted to be well away by dawn. When they sailed out through the shoal, Adara and Sand Shadow did not follow, hoping to learn more when the crates and barrels were moved to wherever Julyan was stowing them. Despite her keen hearing, what sounds Adara heard were faint and few. Had she been of a superstitious mind, she might even have imagined that what she heard were the spirits of the slain seegnur, sighing in protest for their fate.

  Interlude: Annihilated Love

  Until touched nothing knowing

  Knowing nothing ’til the probing

  Knowing touch heralds destruction—

  Destruction before any shape is taken.

  Awareness glimmers, purpose comprehended,

  born from its elusive opposite.

  How did nothing come to knowing?

  From thine actions,

  beloved, destroyed destroyer:

  Midwife to the spreading spores of self.

  Adieu.

  17

  Rozeta Revelation

  Griffin was alone in the Sanctum when he finally had his breakthrough.

  With the gradually warming weather, Adara had abandoned the suite as anything but a place to store her clothes. Doubtless she was catnapping somewhere as had become her habit during the day. The Old One had vanished on one of his mysterious errands. Terrell had accompanied Joffrey to enlist Sam the Mule in hauling a load of firewood. Jean had doubtless gone to market.

  Since he was of a naturally optimistic temperament, Griffin’s initial disgruntlement faded as quickly as it had arisen. As much as he would have delighted in showing the rest what he had discovered, it would have been an academic exercise.

  How much better, he thought, if I can find something new that these icons will help me understand. There were some areas in the arrival side of the facility that I have some insights into now. From what we’ve seen, the seegnur didn’t rely entirely on their machinery. It’s possible I’ll be able to operate some fail-safes. I bet there are service tunnels and …

  Thoughts tumbling over each other, Griffin gathered up a pair of lanterns and stuck some extra candles in his pockets. It had become reflex to check that the lanterns had been filled, their wicks trimmed, and that there was sufficient extra wick.

  First horse care, then campfire cooking, now this. I’m becoming an absolute paragon of the primitive arts.

  Griffin considered where he might experiment most effectively. The communications center remained the area he would most like to see back in operation, but even if he could open the machinery, he lacked the means to undo the damage done by the nanobots.

  Where, then? The hidden door isn’t marked with any icons, so that wouldn’t do any good. I know! How about the shuttle docking areas? There are all those control panels …

  Resolved, Griffin hurried down the steps. Although he’d given the docking bay a cursory inspection on his initial visit, in the ensuing weeks he had gone over it carefully. The Old One had been quite proud of the number of instrument panels he’d located, and had shown him each and every one.

  Griffin hung his lanterns where they’d give the best illumination and got to work. He was looking for a few specific icons: one he suspected meant “override” and another that he was sure meant “backup.” Just as the facility had stairs to substitute for lifts, Griffin had found other situations where the facility’s needs could be augmented by relatively mundane means. For one, the lower parts of the facility were not as hermetically sealed as they had initially believed. Air shafts could be opened to admit outside air. Skylights fed into intricate tubes lined with reflective material to bring in natural light. Therefore, if the power went out, the lower levels weren’t completely dark.

  Griffin suspected that there was a similar light shaft for the shuttle bay, but he’d never bothered to look. He wondered if there was an auxiliary hangar somewhere. The existing landing facility simply didn’t seem large enough.

  Of course, it’s also possible that all major repairs were done in orbit or at least parts fabrication was. They certainly had warehouses, but could they anticipate all models?

  Griffin’s mind ambled down various paths, considering options, rejecting the most unlikely, coming up again and again against the fact that they simply didn’t know enough about how the seegnur’s technology worked.

  While part of his mind was busy speculating, another portion was directed toward skimming the various control panels. Occasionally, he paused to copy an icon he wasn’t sure had made it to the master list. Griffin had learned that the Artemisians, accustomed as they were to the variations that were part of handcrafted materials, simply didn’t perceive the difference between one straight line and a somewhat shorter, wider straight line. To Griffin, the difference was as clear as that between the single stroke of the number one and the multiformed elements used for higher denominations.

  Although several times Griffin noted the presence of the “override” and “backup” icons, he continued searching until he found one that was isolated from the bulk of the equipment. It would be a pity if he loosed one of the massive pieces of equipment so that it fell on his head. At last he found what he had been hoping for, a relatively small panel by itself on a wall near where the shuttles had been docked.

  “Here goes nothing,” he said, pressing down on the “override” icon, shifting his thumb and forefinger through the complicated series of motions that he had learned would release a mechanical button or lever.

  A lever emerged smoothly from the wall, looking as fresh as if it had last been used earlier that day, rather than five hundred years before. Inscriptions on its surface made perfectly clear the sequence of movements that should be worked through to release …

  Shouldn’t I wait? Griffin thought, even as he followed the directions. But …

  The temptation was too great. He finished the sequence, heard a decisive click, then a section of wall slid away to reveal the dark length of a tunnel.

  Griffin was staring at his discovery in astonishment when something hit him smartly on the side of the neck. The inside of his eyes lit with a peculiar redd
ish blackness. Then he went limp and tumbled to the floor.

  * * *

  Griffin’s head throbbed. He hadn’t completely passed out. Now he tried to align various pain-shattered impressions into a sequence. He had found that tunnel. Then someone had hit him. Then he had been dragged into the tunnel. Now …

  He eased his eyes open a slit. The tunnel was still mostly dark, lit by a dim glow from various scattered light sources. The door between the tunnel and the shuttle bay had been slid mostly closed. He could hear someone moving rapidly, the sound of a single set of boot soles slapping against the floor with considerable purpose.

  The light is from my lanterns, Griffin thought. Someone brought them in here. Whoever did that is still out there. Doing what? Removing traces I that was ever down here? Yes.

  It was hard to think with his head throbbing, but one idea came to Griffin with perfect clarity. If whoever had hit him wanted to remove any traces, then Griffin must do whatever he could to leave some sign that he had been here.

  He found that he could just manage to sit up if he leaned back against the wall. As he moved, an uncomfortable bulky lump pressed against one hip. For a moment, all he felt was annoyance, then he registered what it must be.

  My marbles, he thought. I stuffed them in my pocket when I went looking for Adara and Terrell. Figured we could have a game with Sand Shadow while I briefed them.

  He became aware that the footsteps were becoming fainter.

  Probably going to check if I left any traces in the communications center.

  Griffin tried to rise but whoever had hit him had known precisely what to do. His knees felt like jelly.

  Okay. Can’t run. Can’t even drag myself into the shuttle bay.

  The bag of marbles pressed against his hip. Suddenly, Griffin grinned and pulled out one of the small clay spheres Terrell had shaped during their journey from Lynn’s outpost. Though his head throbbed, his fingers remembered their skill. Deftly, Griffin shot several marbles out into the other room, aiming so that they would rest against the wall behind the cradles that held the shuttles.