The Farris Channel: Sime~Gen, Book Twelve

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  “Garen hasn’t been talking,” laughed Benart. “He’s been working with Lexy until he’s cross-eyed tired.” He shifted his attention to Bruce. “...and you know how a Companion is when working. They never say a word, don’t even acknowledge your presence. You’d think they were part of the furniture without personality or opinion!”

  Bruce passed a hand over his face and hung his head at this characterization. “It isn’t an easy job you know!”

  “He’s just teasing,” said Rimon. “Eat your stew. You still have dessert to finish.” Rimon had eaten his fill of the beans, grains and roots in a few bites and was picking at a cracker, trying to look busy.

  “Bruce is probably just as tired as Garen,” said Benart. “Garen fell asleep in his soup right at this very table last night and Lexy had to wake him and find someplace for him to sleep.”

  Bruce said, “He’s avoiding grieving, avoiding even thinking about Clire. He never wanted to get her pregnant, knowing how Farris women die in childbirth. He’s in love with Clire, even now she’s junct if not dead.”

  Rimon said, “He is, and Clire was falling for him.” Garen had been all she talked about the one night Rimon was with her. “Clire’s child is the only Farris of the next generation, so far.”

  “If she’s still alive,” said Bruce.

  “There hasn’t been any word?”

  “Search party blew in an hour ago,” reported Benart. “There’s a major blizzard coming. They said they went as far as Shifron and zlinned her in the town. So she’s there, a prisoner. Is there still time to save her baby?”

  “Maybe.” Wind howled. The storm had closed in, keeping the sky dark at dawn. “We have to get her back first. She knows she’s going to die. I don’t know what she feels about the baby, but she’s got to be hating me.”

  “As soon as the storm’s over, we’ll send a team to bring her back,” said Benart. “I’ve got volunteers already and Jhiti’s sorting them.”

  The dining hall’s outer door opened and a dozen snow crusted Simes left shovels and stomped into the entry, apparently one last work party that finally gave up digging the new latrine pits. It took two of them to push the outer door shut again while the others stood picks and shovels against the wall in the entry and pulled open the inner door to the dining hall.

  For a few seconds, both inner and outer doors were open. The cold air blasted all the way to Rimon’s corner and Bruce shivered, rippling the ambient with powerful Gen discomfort. Rimon joined with several other channels scattered through the huge room to blend the ambient nager around the newcomers and smooth out the goosebumps propagating through the ambient.

  One of the workers noticed Rimon handling the fields and approached. He said respectfully to Rimon, “Jhiti wants you up on the walls.” He gestured toward the stables. “They’ve zlinned something on top of the east ridge, and they don’t know what to make of it.”

  “On my way,” answered Rimon, rising as he flicked a tentacle at Bruce in a stay gesture, explaining, “It’s cold outside and that’s a long way to zlin. Eat.”

  On the way out the front door, he grabbed another cloak off the public hooks and pulled it tight as he slogged across the knee deep drifts to the stair near the stables.

  There wasn’t a Gen out here now, which made it hard to zlin anything. He almost crashed into the well housing. Even the donkey was off duty.

  Zlinning to his left, he noted the school and all the family houses were filled with three times the number of people they were built for. They even had people housed in the factory building to his right. Ahead of him the stables held twenty people crowded among the animals.

  It was too early in the year for such a storm, which boded ill for winter. They had to build more housing, and that meant building the new wall. He had rebuilt Fort Rimon in four different locations and knew what a mistake it was to put residences at the perimeter. They would have to build a bigger underground shelter and drill everyone in how to get to their combat stations. He, himself, would have to follow the rules next time, no matter what.

  Jhiti zlinned him coming and sent two renSimes down kicking snow off the steps and holding out hands to help him up the icy treads until he could reach the guide rope.

  He climbed to the walk, following Jhiti to the vantage point. “Delri, you’re tired.”

  “We all are. There’ll be time to rest come winter.”

  “I guess. Brisk fall weather, wouldn’t you say?”

  Rimon chuckled. “Should we consider moving?”

  “Not again! We’ve got too much invested here.”

  “I wasn’t serious!” protested Rimon fighting the wind’s efforts to sweep him off the catwalk.

  “I should hope not!”

  Jhiti had helped rebuild Fort Rimon every time. If they hadn’t moved so far into the mountains, the other Forts would have found them faster. More refugees would have survived.

  “Delri, when was the last time you slept?”

  “I got a couple hours yesterday. Bruce takes good care of me.”

  “Glad you didn’t bring him out here,” said Jhiti as he brought them around to face due east across the valley. He had to hold the hood on his cloak closed until he got his back to the wind. “I’m going to rotate shifts in one hour increments all night. It’s just too cold.”

  “Good. Even half-hour shifts for those not used to these storms. Are there enough dry socks and gloves?”

  “Zedros is still hobbling around from his leg wound, but he’s got people working round the clock in the laundry.”

  Rimon had delivered the young renSime at his birth and watched Zedros grow into a fine manager. “So where is this mystery you want investigated?”

  “Zlin Fremir Peak. Now follow the ridge down to the pass. If someone was coming through that pass when the storm closed, think where they’d camp? Zlin there. Am I imagining ghosts?”

  It was a long way to zlin without a Gen anywhere out there and Rimon wasn’t deep enough into Need yet to make it easy. “Give me some space, and I’ll see.”

  The renSime backed off a few steps and focused his attention on his patrols, his back to Rimon.

  Rimon closed his eyes, and went hyperconscious, letting go of all his physical senses to zlin the far distance. He made out the ragged side of Fremir Peak and knew how the pass snaked around it. With imagination he traced the path a traveler would follow through known landmarks and came to the shadow of a shadow that Jhiti had spotted.

  The renSime had zlinned this only because there was nothing in the valley except the livestock huddled under the snow and some trees, plants and wild animals that didn’t have a perceptible selyn signature. On the mountains edging the valley there was no life, except...whatever that is.

  There was something there. Rimon studied the haze until it resolved for him. Then he studied it some more.

  He scuffed over to Jhiti and reported, “Just a haze of selyn fields blurring around some boulders. I make it three renSimes, in bad shape, very low on selyn. No Gens. Maybe a horse or two. I don’t think they’re very healthy.”

  “Raiders?”

  Rimon thought about that hard. He shrugged.

  “Juncts from the town?”

  “Why would they be coming down into the valley now?”

  “Going up, out of the valley? Last refugees from Shifron?”

  “Possible.” He zlinned the distance again. “What I’m zlinning would also be consistent with three renSimes freezing to death.”

  “We don’t have any scouts out to the east. All our own are accounted for, unless Tanhara had sent someone on ahead of them, or after missing livestock?”

  Rimon decided. “Outfit a rescue party, but arm them well.” He fended off suspicion he was zlinning the advance scouts of another failed Fort wandering in search of the mythical Fort Rimon. Or worse, the totality of the survivors. “I’ll check with Solamar and Benart to see if any Tanhara are missing. In any event, even if they are Raiders or town juncts, we have to help.”


  “Six renSimes, ice climbing gear, food, bandages, dry socks. What else?”

  “A channel. They’re likely in Need. If they’re injured, maybe a channel can heal them enough to get them down off that mountain. Send a sledge. Horses can wait at the foot of the trail. Get everyone back here before dark.”

  “You’d hardly know it was daytime out here now. I’ll see if Val can spare someone who could work without a Companion, or should we take a Gen?”

  Rimon pondered. “Volunteer Gen. Tell Val to consult Solamar if she requires a channel’s judgment.”

  Jhiti took off around the catwalk calling to his guards, sending someone to break out a sledge. They hadn’t been used yet this year, so it would take some preparation.

  Rimon made his way down the stairs. They had guide ropes rigged all the way to the bottom now. He only slipped twice. He collected Bruce, talked to Benart, found Solamar in the Collectorium taking donations from Gens. There were no Tanhara unaccounted for. Rimon sent a messenger to Jhiti then let Bruce order him to sleep.

  He would have taken that opportunity to tell Bruce about his ghosts, but Bruce fell asleep, fully dressed, sprawled across Rimon’s bed. So he covered the Gen with two thick quilts and stretched out on the settee with a wool blanket and fell asleep zlinning his Companion. He didn’t have a single Need nightmare, and was too exhausted for any other kind.

  Around noon, feeling much refreshed, he left Bruce snoring and went back to his office.

  He didn’t know the Tanhara renSime he found sitting at his desk juggling assignments with Val’s efficiency. Bekka, a cobbler’s apprentice, and BanSha who couldn’t get enough of hanging around channels, were cleaning up the litter from a meal. Channels and Companions were streaming in and out checking Val’s assignment board and ironing out details with the man replacing Val.

  On the board, he saw that Solamar was working Dispensary and Lexy was off shift. They would have to prepare some infirmary rooms for the rescue party. He studied the board and listened until he had a sense of what was going on then told Val’s stand-in, “I’ll work Collectorium for two hours, then check Sian and Tuzhel.”

  The man looked up, blinked and recognized, “Rimon Farris? Ah....” He scrambled through the slates on his desk looking for a note.

  A familiar voice roared, “He just said what?”

  A smaller voice answered, “He just told the scheduler what he would do, never asked, just told.”

  The room filled with Xanon’s thinly feigned astonishment. The channel plowed into Rimon’s already full office. “You should be ashamed,” he proclaimed.

  Rimon turned from the scheduler. The room full of channels, Companions, children, and messengers froze into nageric ice.

  “For knowing my job?” asked Rimon.

  The man at Rimon’s desk thrust a slate at Rimon.

  Xanon scolded, “For sending your own daughter into terrible danger for no good reason and without any authorization.”

  “My daughter?”

  The man at Rimon’s desk pushed the slate into Rimon’s hand. “Lexy went with the rescue party. Read it.”

  Rimon suppressed his astonishment keeping the ambient level. He read the slate. It was a note from Lexy. “Dad. Sian’s almost fully recovered. Tuzhel’s spirits are high. All the other cases are under control, and I just did an hour in Collectorium. Besides, we don’t have another channel on duty who could do three transfers in rapid succession and heal frostbite and who knows what else at the same time without hours in recovery. So I’m going with Jhiti to fetch those renSimes. Val isn’t upset. Lexy.”

  Without letting his alarm show, Rimon asked Val’s stand-in, “Did Garen go with her?”

  “Yes. Jhiti wanted Garen and Lexy wouldn’t let him go alone.”

  That makes sense! thought Rimon as he breathed a gentle sigh of relief. To Xanon he said, “What danger? Garen’s with her, and he’s the best mountaineer we have, Sime or Gen.” Rimon couldn’t count the number of times Garen and Jhiti had saved Lexy’s adventurous butt when they were growing up.

  Very coldly, Xanon enunciated, “A responsible leader does not send his best people out into a blizzard for no good reason! A responsible leader most certainly does not do such a thing without consulting those he’s responsible to. You had no right to make that decision alone.”

  The sentiment in the room was equally divided. Those who agreed with Xanon were horrified at Rimon. Those who had confidence in Rimon’s judgment were equally horrified at Xanon.

  Xanon whirled and directed his outrage at those who disagreed with him. Rimon worked to keep the ambient level. Half the channels in the room pitched in to help him. The other half were too upset to think of helping.

  The Tanhara renSime behind Rimon’s desk stood and said, “Xanon, how can you possibly think Rimon would send any of us out in this blizzard for no good reason? Farrises really can zlin that accurately, and they don’t lie to us about what they zlin. Sian’s healed because of Rimon’s ability, and Tuzhel will disjunct. If Rimon says there are three renSimes stranded out there, then there are, so Jhiti and Lexy will bring them in.”

  “And maybe they’re juncts!” retorted Xanon, aware he was losing his audience.

  “So maybe they are!” said the renSime. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t people!”

  “That’s not the point,” grated Xanon. He turned to the room at large. “The point is who has the authority to risk our lives? If we are at risk, we should be represented in the decision. We can’t have just one person making all our decisions. Sending out a rescue party, attracting possibly hostile attention! That’s a Council decision.”

  Val’s stand-in said, “By then the poor people would freeze to death. You want that on your conscience? I certainly don’t. When it comes to acting on what a Farris can zlin that nobody else can, the Farris must have full authority. Rimon wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Fort Rimon! Everyone he sent was a volunteer, including Lexy.”

  Someone near the door turned and left. Someone else followed. Next to Val’s schedule board, one of the Fort Veritt men said, “Xanon, give it up. The Farrises really can do things you can’t. Let them get on with their jobs, and me with mine!” He led an exodus.

  More people arrived to check the board. Rimon turned to the renSime behind his desk. “Thank you for the eloquent defense! What is your name?”

  “Dakin. I’ve always worked in scheduling for Tanhara, but I don’t know most of these people. If you have a minute, I could use some advice.”

  “There are a people here that I don’t know either.”

  They spent the next half hour sorting out Rimon, Unity and Veritt transfer schedules. Rimon was surprised how much he did know about the Unity and Veritt channels, and somewhat distressed by how his mind pigeon-holed all the people here by which Fort they had come from. When Val came on shift, everything was in order and she was delighted with her new assistant.

  She glanced at the board and told Rimon, “Well, you’d better get to work if you’re going to get all that done before Lexy gets back with three more patients. Maybe tomorrow you can have your office back.”

  “We’ll be ready,” promised Rimon. He just wasn’t sure he wanted his office back. The way Xanon was talking, every decision would be challenged until they got this new Fort Council elected.

  He put in an afternoon’s work, in the Collectorium taking selyn donations from the Gens, in the Dispensary giving transfers to the renSimes. When Bruce turned up, the work went faster and easier. Rimon double checked the last of the patients and sent them home, though where they’d sleep nobody knew. After that he only had a few people coming in to have infections treated.

  Rimon spent an hour with Sian. The weaver seemed to have recovered use of his left arm, and was only a little unsteady on his feet and effusively grateful.

  Rimon sent Sian home to his family leaving Tuzhel the only resident at this end of the hall. Two partially disabled patients who couldn’t rejoin the labor crews
were teaching the Raider proper Simelan vocabulary and showing him how a renSime could adjust to the normal Need cycle.

  Outside, the storm abated and the cramped bustle of the overcrowded Fort picked up. Inside, the channels’ workload subsided to normal, and below normal. It was one of the few times in his memory when Fort Rimon had both enough selyn and enough channels to handle the work. It was disconcertingly abnormal.

  At sundown, he left Bruce eating with his Gen friends and a group of Tanhara Gens and went to the east wall to zlin for Lexy. He climbed to the catwalk.

  Oberin, Jhiti’s second in command of security, welcomed Rimon and pointed at Fremir peak. She said, “I can’t zlin that far, but we haven’t seen anything coming back over the snow all day. With all that white, they should be visible.”

  A shaft of sunlight pierced the heavy black clouds casting a rosette path along the snow, but there was no sign of the rescue party. Rimon paced a ways apart and zlinned the distant pass.

  He distinguished the horses, a renSime waiting with them, and beyond halfway up the mountainside, at a camping spot he knew well, Lexy and Garen were clear.

  Around them the renSimes who had to be Jhiti’s guards were almost unzlinnable in contrast to Garen.

  As he watched, a group of renSimes separated from Garen, moving down the trail so slowly they had to be carrying survivors.

  Rimon told Oberin, “I think they’re just now starting back. It’ll be midnight or later by the time they get here. Keep your shift changes rapid as it gets colder, and now that the snow’s stopped, expect another Freebander Raid. You can tell Val I said to adjust the transfer schedules around your guard schedule. The Watch is going to be critical for a while yet. Keep a squad ready to go out and protect them as they come in, or just go help if necessary.”