The Farris Channel: Sime~Gen, Book Twelve

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  “I didn’t know,” confessed Rimon, “that she was studying leather craft.”

  Endra added, “She wants to be an artist in leather, and we’ve found a good market for well tooled items. Bekka is level headed, responsible, old enough to control herself. She’s tall enough to pass for adult among the Gens, even if she is still flat chested. If I can’t go, Bekka’s my choice.”

  There was heated discussion of the ethics of risking a child too young to understand the dangers, but then Rimon said, “I’ll check her for signs of changeover before mentioning this idea to her parents. They might decide on the basis of who would be her guardians on this trek. If they decide against it, we’ll try your second suggestion. Just remember, Frevven is right that to justify the risk, we have to bring back the right sorts of leathers.”

  Solamar thought Bekka’s parents would agree. They were both renSimes he had come to know when giving them transfer. They both proudly traced their lineage to the original Fort Freedom, before Rimon Farris, Delri’s grandfather, arrived there. They had even tried to recruit him to their Unity worship services and he intended to go at least once to see how they worshipped.

  As few Unity families as there were, they wielded a great deal of influence on matters of ethics even among those not of their religion. Their support of Rimon against this new Council was unwavering. Bekka, a close friend of BanSha, had already befriended Tuzhel and was trying to teach him about the Church of the Unity.

  Before BanSha returned, they had a list of Gens who could handle pack horses, rough camping, and speak Genlan.

  Solamar said, “I’d be worried that a group of Gens would get lost in the trackless hills. If they stick to the trails our scouts have seen the Raiders using, they’d surely be caught by the Raiders.”

  BanSha opened the outer door, letting cold air in.

  Jhiti said, “I can send scouts with them all the way to the border, not by the known trails, but over toward the southwest. The pass there is worse than Fremir, but we can get them through. My scouts can set up a beacon and when they zlin the Gens returning up the next valley, light a fire to guide them right to the correct pass. It’s a very rough approach from the Gen side. Even Simes could find themselves trapped in a box canyon.”

  Solamar said, “I volunteer to be waiting at that pass when they get back. I’ll take down their fields so we’ll be less of a target, and do any healing necessary.”

  The whole room rang with Kahleen’s silent determination to be at his side during this venture.

  Even the Gens who just donated selyn to the channels produced many times the amount of selyn that a Gen from out-Territory would. Now their production was greatly exaggerated, thanks to Rimon’s schedule that exposed them to Simes working under augmentation. Even just a few days after donating selyn, they would be easy for the Raiders to spot from a distance.

  Rimon said, “Val will find a volunteer channel for that duty then. You’re right, Solamar, it’ll be necessary to have a channel waiting for them. I’d choose myself.”

  Lexy looked from one to the other wanting to elbow Solamar out of that job. Solamar was oddly gratified that his welfare had become important to her as hers was to him.

  Tuzhel followed BanSha in just in time to hear Jhiti’s comment and couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

  “What pass?” asked Tuzhel. “What Companions? Who’s in trouble? Can I help?”

  Rimon explained what they wanted to do, and Tuzhel rounded on BanSha jabbing a tentacle at the young channel. “You fooled me! I never suspected a thing!”

  Solamar edged forward prepared to augment to keep the youngsters from tearing each other apart, but a moment later they were both laughing hysterically at BanSha’s marvelous nageric achievement of fooling a renSime.

  BanSha demonstrated how he’d lied to Tuzhel under orders from Rimon and had everyone laughing. It took Rimon, Lexy and Solamar nearly a minute to reform the ambient and get their attention.

  “Of course I’ll go,” Tuzhel told Rimon. “My uncle always has stocks of tanned leather by this time of winter. Even if my uncle has been taken by the Raiders other people know where his stock is hidden. They’ll trade.”

  “Tuzhel, you can’t go,” announced Rimon.

  Tuzhel objected nagerically and BanSha grabbed the fields. Rimon showed BanSha how to handle the nageric spike and left him to it. “Tuzhel, all our traders will be Gens. We want you to help in two ways. Make us a map to the town, and where to find the tannery. Then we’ll want you to help concoct reasonable lies to tell the Gens.”

  Solamar had forgotten that Gens could lie among themselves undetected.

  Crestfallen, then stubborn, then disappointed, Tuzhel finally accepted Rimon’s verdict. BanSha handled Tuzhel’s riotous fields better than Xanon would have after only one lesson.

  Solamar asked, “How long will the trip take?”

  Tuzhel said, “On foot, from High Crossing to the border southeast of here, it’s about six days. In this weather though, with loaded horses in tow and staying off any useful trails, it could take twice that. More if it’s only Gens.”

  Discussion raged again, but a real plan emerged that Solamar thought could actually work.

  Rimon raised his voice and delivered his decision. “Benart will enlist three or four Gen volunteers to take pack horses loaded with trade goods and return with leather stock. Jhiti will prepare and secure a trail to the border and have his experts search for a weather window. Also Jhiti’s scouts will equip the expedition. Tuzhel will work with the volunteers to develop a plausible lie about where they’re from and why they’re making this emergency trade in the middle of winter. It has to be something that won’t be discovered come spring and bring them down on us.”

  Rimon zlinned Solamar’s cracked boots. “I’d like to see them ready to ride during the next break in the weather. With such a long trip, they must expect to endure two or more storms on the trail.”

  He paused, then suggested quietly, one hand unconsciously straying back to his belt. “It might be best if the new Council and their supporters don’t hear about this until the group has departed.”

  Rinda’s nager proclaimed adamant agreement with that. “I’ll do my best to keep them busy and distracted.”

  * * * * * * *

  I knew it wouldn’t work, thought Solamar.

  It had taken six days to ready the expedition and in all that time, Rinda kept the new Council from noticing the conferences and meetings as volunteers were enlisted.

  Jhiti’s scouts cut a new trail southwest and cached supplies, preparing to support the group that would wait for the Gens to return to the border. Rinda told the Council Jhiti was supporting a logging expedition that would also forage for pine nuts. That elicited total disinterest from the busy Councilors and it was also true since the firewood consumption had stripped out local supplies.

  Val juggled the schedule so that all the Gens who were going donated selyn the last evening before they left.

  The day Lexy celebrated the first three months of her pregnancy, everything was ready for the trading expedition to High Crossing. The Gens assembled with Jhiti’s scouts and the loggers outside the stables just before dawn.

  The laden horses were brought out, stamping and huffing steam into the chill air. It was a much larger group of Gens than Solamar had anticipated, but Jhiti had insisted the traders had to have people along who could build a camp that would survive the worst mountain storm.

  Lexy brought Bekka out of the Collectorium door, followed by Bekka’s parents. Apparently, Bekka was now cleared to leave with the expedition.

  Solamar watched Lexy walk with one hand on the child’s shoulder, bending over to talk to her quietly. She’ll make a fabulous mother.

  Then Lexy was beside him. Rimon lifted Bekka into the saddle, her parents, Jor and Shaddyr Esren, watching.

  At that very moment, Alind and Xanon slammed out of the dining hall doors and tromped across the open yard followed helplessly by Rinda
. Xanon didn’t even bother to control the fields around the two, and ignored the presence of the elderly Gen woman. Before they reached the stables, others had noted the disturbance came out to see.

  Alind went right up to Rimon. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave the Fort. Everyone here depends on you. No Council member would authorize this, so don’t bother to lie.”

  Lie? thought Solamar. Lie! Rimon’s stony nager had made these understandably insecure people paranoid.

  Rimon faced Alind, a hand on his belt. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Well you’re certainly not sending your daughter. She’s pregnant! We’re not sending anyone near Shifron!”

  Rimon made no signal either physical or nageric, but Jhiti swung into his saddle, gestured the gatekeeper to open the big central gate, and moved his party on out. Alind ran after the horses shouting, “Wait. We haven’t cleared you yet. Close that gate!” His voice was drowned by the noise.

  The opening appeared as Jhiti’s horse’s nose reached it and the party kicked to a trot on the well shoveled area in front of the gate. The hooves tossed up bits of muck before Jhiti slowed for the descent to the valley floor. Alind retreated, mud spattered, as the gates shut in his face.

  When Xanon rounded on Lexy’s father aghast, Solamar edged closer to shield her.

  Xanon spat, “What have you done, Rimon?”

  Alind picked his way back over the churned snow watching his supporters rush out of nearby buildings. Xanon and Alind both wore new boots, as did many of those coming to support him. Those supporters had not been out logging and augmenting to get houses built.

  Rimon’s right hand gravitated to his belt buckle. “I’ve sent a well equipped expedition of volunteers on a well planned mission that may save this Fort. And I’ve done it without any orders, authorizations or votes.” He cocked his head and asked brightly, “What have you done today?”

  Alind halted beside Xanon and addressed his crowd. “I’m calling an emergency Council meeting in the school building right now. Go wake up the other Councilors!” He pivoted, pointed one tentacle, “Oberin! Send guards out to stop them and bring them back!”

  Oberin glanced at her people spread around the wall’s catwalk. “Anybody want to go for a ride?” she shouted. There were no takers. She had chosen the guards on duty this morning from Rimon’s supporters. She shrugged at Alind. “Why don’t you try again tomorrow?”

  Alind snapped, “Rimon, Lexy, Solamar, five minutes and I will see you in front of the full Council.”

  “Not now,” countered Rimon. “Val has us scheduled for Dispensary, and Lexy has to rest. See me in the dining hall at sundown and I’ll tell you all about the plan. Come on Solamar, we have work to do.” Rimon led his group to the Dispensary building, an easy swing to his stride despite boots worn beyond safe use.

  But when they were inside, he tossed his cape onto the hook by the door and leaned his back against the wall. “I made a mistake asking Alind to run the election. People are using him, and he’s bewildered. These are emotionally shattered people growing more fearful by the day that this Fort will be overrun too. This Council can’t handle it.”

  Solamar knelt to clean Lexy’s shoes.

  Kahleen said, “Soon, everyone will have heard about the trading mission. They’ll be even more afraid especially if rumors get the facts all backwards.”

  “True. Lexy, do you have the notes I asked for yet?” She nodded, and Rimon scraped muck off his shoes. “I have to tell Val to clear the schedule for sundown. Kahleen’s right, we have to nail every fact in this announcement. Be sure Benart goes over every figure you give me.”

  Solamar should have expected this. Rimon knew he couldn’t deal rationally with the Council, so he had to get the facts to the whole Fort, not let the new Council hide the truth to prevent panic. Facts countered fear.

  “Yes,” agreed Lexy, as Solamar peeled off her cloak. “I just have to add that Jhiti decided to lead the scouts himself, but I have the notes from Benart and the others.”

  “Good, leave them in my office and go get some sleep. Where’s Garen?”

  “Sleeping. We’re on duty at noon, remember? You cut me another two hours a day.”

  “In a few days you won’t be objecting so much.”

  “Probably not,” admitted Lexy, which was a big concession. She flicked Solamar a warm smile that raced through her nager too, then took off down the hall in her long legged stride. Her hips swung just so, and Solamar thought they seemed a little broader.

  “Come on Solamar, let’s get these transfers done. Kahleen could you find Bruce for me? He’s in the infirmary probably checking on yesterday’s frostbite victims.”

  Solamar followed Rimon into the Dispensary corridor. “Do you think Maigrey is going to regret volunteering to stay with Xanon after this? Or will she be changing sides?”

  “I told her what to expect for today,” said Rimon. “She says she’ll stick with him, but expects consideration when we get this Fort united. She’s got her eye on one of the youngsters who’ll change over soon. I told her she can have her pick of any channel I can match her to when we get a real Council elected.”

  “That’s more than fair. But then what of Xanon?”

  “Maybe he’ll come to his senses by then.”

  With that, they arrived at the Dispensary check in desk, picked up renSimes who were fidgeting, and took them into transfer rooms.

  Solamar worked steadily for hours, using Rimon’s technique of spending extra time with each person, both before and after giving transfer. He enjoyed talking about their families, their housing situation, and now about boots and other essentials, making the Fort seem more like home.

  Today, conversation quickly centered on the departing expedition, but all Solamar could say was, “Rimon’s scheduled a talk in the dining hall later. I understand from Lexy that it’ll be very informative.”

  And it was informative.

  Near sundown, the dining hall filled with Council supporters plus some who hadn’t decided yet. Since everyone could not fit into the hall, Rimon had asked those who agreed with him to come to a second, shorter meeting later that night. Here he intended to give a detailed account of what he’d done and why.

  Privately, Rimon had told Solamar, “This’ll be for those who don’t believe I can take advice, form an opinion and decide, so you’ll be bored, but could you please come work the fields for the audience?” Rimon had recruited Fengal and five other channels for the job, and Solamar agreed to manage them just to watch Rimon in action.

  The new Council had swept in early, set up tables and chairs just for themselves on the stage the musicians used, leaving Rimon to stand below them. He took Lexy’s notes in hand but faced the hall full of people, not the Council.

  Channels and Companions positioned themselves among the standing crowd muting the thread of hostility.

  Lexy was in the infirmary with the few patients who weren’t mobile. Her notes, though, were complete, and Rimon ticked off the points one by one as he explained.

  Solamar watched Rimon’s free hand hover at the belt buckle as he spoke. Despite the distrust in the audience, Rimon was confident, his voice relaxed and vibrant.

  He detailed how he’d noticed injuries from worn footgear mounting, went through some graphic cases, and explained why bad footgear could be a threat come spring, how the store room was empty of tanned leather, and how their normal supply line through Shifron was gone.

  He avoided mention of the uneven distribution of new footwear, and focused only on what the deficiency would cost them in injuries in both defending the Fort and in planting the crops they’d be depending on next winter.

  He illustrated with inexorable logic, how trading out-Territory was the only way to avoid certain doom.

  Rimon said, “Such a trading venture destroyed Fort Hope. Our situation is different, though. We are so remote that the tax collector doesn’t even come every year to count our Gens. There are no laws against
trading out-Territory. Our danger is from the Freeband Raiders in Shifron, and from the Gens themselves.”

  He proceeded to present their plan one bit at a time, and listed objections Solamar hadn’t even thought of. Then he explained how their plan countered each objection.

  Tuzhel’s suggestions for a plausible lie gave the Gens a story that would not arouse suspicion in High Crossing. They even had Gen Territory wardrobes and the horses bore brands recognizable as Gen owned stock.

  The Fort Gens were to pretend to be part of a group trying to settle on the Gen border and hold back the Simes. Come spring, Jhiti’s guards would deposit evidence on the Gen side of the border that would appear to be the remains of a settlement Simes had destroyed. Some of the tanned leather would be found there, and that would end the matter if the Gens ever searched for the fictitious settlement.

  Rimon emphasized how each and every trail disaster they could anticipate had been prepared for. He told them about each Gen who had volunteered to go, what their qualifications were, feats they had pulled off in the past, bartering skills, rough camping skills, combat skills, and how they knew local Gen customs.

  He detailed the trade goods they were offering, and gave them Benart’s facts and figures.

  He presented the immense challenges spring would bring, and countered each with a plan created by his senior management team. He produced facts and figures from Jhiti’s defense plans showing they would win any battle if all their equipment were in top condition, which it would be once this expedition returned.

  He cited the remarkable job they had done expanding the Fort, and did not mention latrines and wells. He ended with plans for the future. He listed births, changeovers and Establishments, and weddings in the offing, painting a vivid picture of a vital, united community that clearly exemplified the dream of Fort Freedom made real.

  By the end, Solamar, who was managing fields at the western edge of the room, saw Rimon’s glowing vision wrought upon the ambient. Almost everyone in the room was contributing, as if Rimon’s vision were their own.