by D L Frizzell
As fantastic as Dolina was, there was something very understated about it, too. It took me a while to pick out what that was as we strolled down the main avenue toward the large building at the end. I thought back to the cave where we first entered the mountain. The giant motorized door, the incongruous window into another world, and the weapons that fired invisible, silent heat, were a fine introduction to Dolina. Now that we had arrived, however, they didn’t have any technology we didn’t use in Celestial City or any other settlement, save for the electric lights. We still used sap lamps in the daylight hemisphere when necessary. If anything, Dolina seemed like a throwback, something along the lines of the Jovian Nation or medieval Earth. There was absolutely no sign of the great machines that dug out the cavern centuries ago, or even computers. “Are we in a magnetic node?” I asked.
Dima stopped to scratch his head and think. “I am not scientist, but I know there are two kind of nodes. One that ruins technology.” He put his fists together and rapidly spread his fingers apart as he voiced a crude imitation of an explosion. “Those are big and many. The other kind is where magnetism is zero and technology works. They are few and small. That is all I know. Dolina,” he gestured around at the town, “is maybe in between.”
“That cleared it right up,” Redland deadpanned.
We finally reached the end of the avenue and saw an old man in a white lab coat exit the ornate building and run to meet us. He shook everybody’s hands. “Hello!” he proclaimed to each of us in turn. “I’m Harlan Mayford.” Everyone introduced themselves, save for Kate, who still seemed lost in her tangled hair.
“Mister Mayford,” Norio smiled. “It is good to see you again.”
“Yes, yes. Same to you, Norio,” Mayford said. Turning to Dima and Leo, he said, “Will you take their gear to my home, please?”
“Yes, sir,” Dima said. He and Leo tethered the wagons together and pulled them toward a path leading behind the boardwalk.
“Your belongings will be safe,” Mayford assured us.
Of that I was certain. The only property I cared about was already on my person. I knew that was true of the others, too. Nobody took our weapons away. Anything else we brought along could be confiscated, but not those.
Mayford ushered us to the agricultural sector, which turned out to have a road aptly named ‘Market Street’. We passed vendors selling fruits, vegetables, and a variety of hand-made goods. There were even some wooden toys dangling from some of the carts. If I were to guess how many such items would normally be available this far south of the equator, I would have said none. Being suspicious is part of my nature, especially in a strange place, so I checked corners, looked over my shoulder, and made random stops to inconspicuously look inside buildings. I noticed Redland doing the same. He and I made eye contact just long enough to acknowledge each other, and then continued on. If there was trouble to be found, he’d be the first one to jump into the fray.
At that moment, it struck me that I had forgotten my anger at Redland again. Why the hell did I keep doing that? He certainly hadn’t impressed me with that phony rescue in the snow. Even if that was legit, any points he might have gained by doing so were offset by the monumentally stupid plan of releasing Jarnum onto an unsuspecting world. How many had Jarnum killed since Redland broke him out of Ovalsheer Prison? Dozens? As far as I was concerned, Redland was liable for every one of them. Playing nice would not get him off the hook. I decided right then that, if we were successful in our mission, Redland would end up back in Ovalsheer chained to a mining cart for the rest of his days. Unless I had to kill him first, I thought. There was always that possibility.
By the time we reached the food vendors, I had yet to detect a valid reason for my uneasy feelings about Dolina. Well, other than the fact that the town’s existence seemed impossible. Right then, I heard the sizzle of a grill and smelled what I was sure was steak. My mouth began to water immediately. Kate also became more animated than she’d been since we first entered the tunnel. I knew she didn’t eat meat products, but she perked up at the smell. A teenage vendor saw that she was interested in his goods and asked if she would like a taste. She nodded and picked up a raw citrus onion. She took a bite and smacked loudly as pungent juice dripped off her chin onto her clothes.
“You’re supposed to cook those,” Traore said, looking a little sickened.
“Why?” Kate asked. “It’s good this way.”
Traore stepped back, covering his nose. “Just…keep your distance then, hey?” he said.
Kate shrugged and took another bite while Mayford apologized to the vendor and paid him with coins that bore the mint-marks of the Titan Province. The coins looked shiny and new, which seemed as implausible as everything else in this place. I filed that fact away for later, thinking that continued observation would answer questions that people might not.
“We’re not stopping, I’m afraid,” Mayford told us. “This is the way to my flat, you see.” He ushered us away from the food. “I didn’t consider that you might be hungry from your journey. I’m so sorry. We’ll come back after you get cleaned up, I promise.”
My stomach growled, but I nodded politely anyway. Judging by the looks on everybody’s faces, they were as disappointed as I was. Past the food court, we walked through a neighborhood of humble-yet-tidy homes until we reached the end of the town. Excavated tunnels sat higher up in the cavern walls. Taking a wooden stairway – a wooden stairway – we headed for one of the tunnels.
“Dolina seems very prosperous,” Ofsalle remarked.
Mayford smiled. “Yes, it does seem so, doesn’t it? I’ve never been north of the Fortune Line, so I can’t say from personal experience, but other expeditioners have said as much. It’s pretty remarkable how well we’ve done in such a closed system.”
“You’ve never been outside Dolina?” Brady asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Mayford replied. “However, you haven’t seen all there is to see. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, though” he said. “First let’s get you all cleaned up.”
Mayford led us into a cave where the sedimentary rock walls were buttressed with decorative wooden timbers and guiderails. The timbers seemed very old but were in immaculate shape. The guiderails had been worn smooth and given a glossy sheen by the hands that had run along them for centuries. Given that there was no metal supporting the ceiling of this tunnel, I wondered if we had passed beyond the edges of Dolina’s magnetic oasis. We passed a number of thick wooden doors on the right, all of which were contoured to fit the cave entrances that they covered, and none of which had anything more than aluminum metalwork. We rounded a corner and happened upon a row of electric lights dangling from pitons sealed into the rock ceiling all the way to the end of a long corridor. I revised my estimation of the magnetic properties of the tunnel and decided it must have been an aesthetic choice to use lumber instead of steel. I wondered briefly why, but then realized that wood was probably more valuable than gold in an underground mine. This was where the rich people lived. In a town like Dogleg, wooden domiciles were where the common folks lived, and reinforced steel homes were reserved for the rich. In Dolina, the opposite was true. It made a funny kind of sense, but also seemed out of place. These timbers were thicker than railroad ties. I had seen no trees wider than my arm in the agricultural area. If Dolina had ever had that kind of lumber in its history, I doubted they would use it for a frivolous purpose such as fancy homes.
When we reached the last wooden door, Mayford asked us to leave our boots in the entryway, saying that he tried to keep the place as clean as possible. We entered a hallway where the natural rock walls had been covered by oiled lumber, very old but well-preserved. On the left was a small bedroom. On the right sat a well-stocked library, with twice the number of books than the study at the Biedriks’ house. The last room was a small kitchen with a table long enough to serve ten people. Clean dishes filled one of two stainless steel sinks. Kitchen utensils adorned the wall near a sap-burning stove.
Medical instruments sat on a tray below them, arranged neatly in rows.
“Is this your home or a hospital?” Brady asked.
“Both,” Mayford said proudly. “We try to dual-purpose everything here. We’re all about efficiency, you know. It’s the same with all the domiciles in these tunnels. During a magnetic event, these tunnels would serve as a secondary living space for the citizens, with medical treatment available for those who might have been injured during a cave-in.”
That makes sense, then, I thought. Except for the fact that all this wood had to come from somewhere.
Redland opened a cupboard and found jars of preserved food next to bottled medicines. “Cozy,” he said.
“Thank you,” Mayford scowled while Redland continued opening drawers and cupboards. “May I help you find something in particular, Marshal?”
“Nope.”
“You are a doctor, Mister Mayford?” Ofsalle asked.
“Sometimes,” Mayford said, “If by doctor you mean somebody who can treat minor wounds. I’m more of a specialist in medicinal cures than a surgeon.”
“Do you mind if I look at your library?” Ofsalle said.
“Help yourself,” Mayford said. He watched Ofsalle go to the first bookshelf in the study and run his fingers along the book spines. “Is your friend a doctor, also?” he asked.
“We think so,” Hathan-Fen said. “Haven’t known him long enough to need treatment yet.”
“We are always interested in finding those who can supplement our local knowledge,” Mayford said. “Your friend looks like he could use an eye doctor.”
“He has an allergy,” Hathan-Fen said. “He wasn’t able to bring…whatever he takes for it.”
“Ah,” Mayford said. “We have some antihistamines that might help with the redness in his eyes.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate any relief you could provide,” Hathan-Fen said, glancing once at Ofsalle as he flipped through a heavy book.
“I need to ask something,” Mayford said, suddenly becoming very serious. “You all didn’t come to Dolina for a couple of pills and a tour. Norio, I must be blunt – why are you here?”
“Unfortunate circumstances,” Norio said.
“The T’Neth are rattling their sabers again?” Mayford asked.
“You could say that,” I told him.
“It is more than that,” Norio said, beckoning Kate to join us. “This is Kate Runaway, a friend who needs sanctuary.”
Mayford smiled at Kate. “We’re happy to roll out the red carpet for you, Miss Runaway.”
Kate looked down at the floor tiles. “You have no carpet.”
“Mister Mayford’s going to take you to safety,” Hathan-Fen explained.
“Oh,” Kate said.
“Well, young lady,” Mayford said, “Dolina was founded for those who need it.”
“Need what?” Kate asked.
“Why, safety of course,” Mayford said, taking Kate by the shoulders. Looking her up and down, he nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Which syndicate are you from?” he asked.
Kate pulled away in shock. “You know about syndicates?”
“I know many things about the T’Neth,” Mayford said. “A syndicate is like a tribe, only that it’s assembled based on individual skillsets rather than familial units.”
“You can tell she’s a T’Neth?” Hathan-Fen asked.
“It wasn’t hard,” Mayford said. “It’s too bright to see the sparkle in her eyes, but there are other signs one can look for – bone structure, eye color, conversational anomalies, accent, anti-social behavior, and a few other things.”
“Doctor Mayford, you could point to anybody and identify those characteristics in one form or another,” Hathan-Fen said.
“True,” he admitted. “It’s more of an art than a science.”
“Okay, we’ve now established that everybody’s unique, even the T’Neth,” Traore said.
“Velis,” Kate said.
Mayford smiled. “From north of the Schism Plate. That would have been one of my guesses. Coh or Slala?”
“Coh.”
“You’ve gone a little over my head, sir,” Hathan-Fen said. “Could you explain what you’re talking about?”
“Glad to,” Mayford said. “T’Neth, as you may already know, communicate telepathically. This ability emerges only during adolescence, however. Up to the age of fourteen or fifteen, they speak just like humans. Once their mind-reading capabilities develop, their vocal skills languish. You would be hard-pressed to find any T’Neth adult that speaks above the level of a child. The older ones don’t speak at all. At any rate, they are given names until they no longer need them. These names are strictly identification codes, and not given based on patriarchal or provincial customs.”
Mayford turned back to Kate. “How old are you, young lady?”
“Twenty-nine,” she said.
She’s older than me, I thought. For some reason, I’ve always thought of her as younger.
“Splendid,” Mayford asked. “You are only just beginning to mature. Do you mind if I ask why you left your syndicate?”
Kate shifted from one foot to another, looking very uncomfortable. “T’Neth hate humans.”
“Fascinating,” Mayford said to Kate. “You left because you disagreed with their brutality?”
“You need a T’Neth to tell you how savage the T’Neth are?” Redland scoffed. “You need to get out more, pal.”
“I know several T’Neth,” Mayford said. “I find them to be, communication barrier notwithstanding, intelligent and articulate.”
“How many T’Neth do you know?” I asked.
“Eight,” Mayford answered. “Nine if I include Kate. Would you like to meet them?”
“Are you able to set up a meeting soon?” Hathan-Fen said. “We have some rather immediate concerns we need to deal with.”
“Wait a sec, Mayford,” I said, holding up my hands. “You have T’Neth living here, and you’re okay with that?”
“They don’t live in Dolina, my boy,” Mayford said. “They are pretty far away, actually, but it isn’t a long journey.”
“Another train, I’m guessin’,” Redland grumbled. “Can’t we just leave her here and let you take care of the rest?”
Hathan-Fen threw Redland an icy glare. “We’ll finish the mission, marshal. That will be when Kate is safe, or she asks us to leave.”
“No,” Kate said.
“No to which part” I asked.
“I don’t want to meet them,” Kate said. “I don’t want to be T’Neth,”
“You are not the first to T’Neth to say so,” Mayford said. “If I may speak plainly, Miss Runaway, you will be in very good company at the Sanctum. The T’Neth there are exiles.”
Kate shook her head slowly. “I don’t know that syndicate.”
“They are not a syndicate. Or maybe they are now that you say so,” Mayford smiled. “Young lady, they are runaways like you.”
Kate stared at him, mouth wide open.
“I think we came to the right place,” Hathan-Fen said.
“Where are these exiles?” I asked.
“They don’t live here, though we consider them citizens like anybody else. The T’Neth don’t associate with humans on a regular basis. They live at the Sanctum,” Mayford said. “Before I take you to meet them - if you decide you wish to meet them - the Ambassador will evaluate and decide how to proceed.”
“Ambassador?” Redland asked.
“That’s what we call her,” Mayford said. “The T’Neth call her a mediator, which is more apt, I suppose.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
Mayford’s eyes shined with the opportunity to explain “T’Neth communicate most naturally in two’s,” he began quickly. “Mental communication on that level is a simple back-and-forth. That’s why T’Neth travel in pairs most of the time. Whenever there are more than two T’Neth, communication becomes more complex. It’s sort of a geometric progres
sion, depending on how many individuals are in range of one another. In a situation where there are three T’Neth in the same location, one of them must have the ability to coordinate all their communication. These stronger types are called fundaments, but ability is not as common as you might think. Maybe only one in ten has it, thought admittedly,” he smiled, “this is only our best estimation.”
“Okay,” Hathan-Fen said. “And if they don’t have a…fundament?”
“Then they disband,” Mayford replied. “The strongest pair remains together while the third goes their own way. You see, groups of T’Neth need an anchor to communicate with one another. Without one, they would barely be able to communicate at all. Humans really can’t conceive how vital this sort of arrangement is for them.”
Mayford only needed a little encouragement to launch into a long-winded explanation on practically any subject, but Major Hathan-Fen hadn’t learned that yet. She commented, “It’s a wonder they developed a society at all.”
“Yes, yes, quite so!” Mayford exclaimed. “Imagine attending a party where everybody is packed tightly into a small room. A pair having a conversation would raise their voices to understand each other over the din of surrounding conversation. But this would make communication more difficult for the people next to them. Those people in turn would raise their voices to hear each other better. This would then cause difficulty for others to hear, and they would follow the same process. This goes on and on until everybody in the room is yelling, but nobody can hear anybody else. Do you see?” He paused for our reaction.
Hathan-Fen looked around. Except for Sergeants Brady and Traore, who both smiled and nodded, the rest of us waited with blank expressions on our faces. “Mister Mayford. I don’t think most of us go to parties,’ she said.
