by Clayton, Jo;
“My folk came from those planted on Tovazh. I don’t know how much you know about that colony, it was a place where some very radical and esoteric experimentation was happening. Remember these things. A gathering of the finest and no doubt wildest minds among the Ykx. Trouble between the Balayar and the Chalarosh. Tovazh’s star a flare star, something not generally known because of the length of its cycle, something discovered serendipitously in connection with other research by a group of Ykx Seekers. The time of the flares approaching rapidly. Soil cores indicating the burning off of all life above ground during previous flares. The Tovazhi Kinra begin planning for the evacuation of the population before the flares make living there impossible. Before the evacuation can get under way, the Balayar and the Chalarosh move from irritation with each other to open warfare, and both refuse to recognize the neutrality of the Ykx. Ships of both species swarm about Tovazh, coveting that planet for its strategic location halfway between their home worlds. They establish a blockade about Tovazh. Neither Balayar nor Chalarosh listen to Ykx warnings about the flares and they will not permit the Ykx to desert that world unless the Ykx cede ownership of it to one or the other. But Chalarosh will not permit the Ykx to give the world to the Balayar. Balayar will not permit the Chalarosh to take it. A few Ykx chosen by lot get offworld when the Balayar and the Chalarosh are busy sniping at each other, but not one tenth of the population manages to leave.
“The perturbations grow more intense. The weather turns unpredictable. Food begins to run out, impossible to grow sufficient in the few hydroponic gardens. It looks like a race between starvation and cremation.”
Lipitero paused, sipped more iska. “You see the bind they were in. They did find a way out of it, I’m here as evidence of that. This is how they did it.
“Among the wildest and most brilliant of the Seekers on Tovazh was an Ykx called Mierzel ap Xon; like the Tovazhi Sun, he was hot and bright but unstable. He required adulation like some require drugs and gathered about him a small band of sycophants who worshiped him as a genius, almost a god, and got him funding for his experiments. The greater part of those on Tovazh, though, ignored him and his work. More orthodox Seekers thought he was either crazy or a charlatan or both, and had good reason for thinking so from what I’ve read off flakes made around that time. Inclined to acerbic and megalomaniac pronouncements about things entirely outside his field of competence, he was a bigot, a snob, dishonest in small things and large, cruel, incapable of sympathy or compassion, with a severely inflated estimation of his own worth. Within the very narrow limits of his specialty, despite his delusions, despite the general inadequacy of his persona, despite the unsavory nature of his acts and ideas, he really did have flashes of genius. Withdrawing to the compound his acolytes had built for him and furnished lavishly, scrambling desperately to escape the death he refused to countenance for himself, throwing together insights and data from his prodigally various researches, he drove a bridge across the insplit gap into another universe, collapsed that bridge into a Gate that he thought he alone could open. A way for him to leave Tovazh and take his faithful with him, along with as many pre-fertile females as they could gather up in the time left to them. The Gate opened on another world, you see, a habitable world. Mierzel’s Luck, he wanted to call it, Mistommerk it was, named already by those with a better right. Being what he was, he proposed to take his chosen few and let the rest of the Ykx on Tovazh be what he called Purified by the Flare.
“Fortunately for my ancestors, that was too much for three of his acolytes. However fervently they adored him, however thoroughly they were cut off from their kin because of that adoration, they could not persuade themselves to run to safety and leave brothers, sisters, cousins, whatever, to burn. They duplicated Mierzel’s records and took them to the Tovazhi Kinra. Dishonest in almost every phase of his life, the one thing Mierzel wouldn’t fudge was his data. He kept meticulous records of every experiment and noted down every step of his thinking. The acolytes added their own testimony; they’d looked into that other world, they had taken samples of its air, its plant life, they had even trapped a small rodent and brought it through into the courtyard of the compound where the Gate was built.
“Mierzel ap Xon learned of the defection of the Three, Frightened, he gathered those present and fled through the Gate. He was never seen again. In opening the Gate he had drawn from someplace between this universe and that other one an amorphous Thing we later named the Ever-Hunger. Ever-Hunger ate him and his minions and the young females he took with him.
“Perhaps the forces unleashed by the opening of the Gate hastened the onset of the flares, perhaps the Seekers were wrong in their timing of the cycle, but there was just enough time to recreate the Key to the Gate and gather the folk. The Kinra collected all Ykx left on Tovazh; skim sleds were piled with food, tools, texts, instruments and the youngest children if their parents couldn’t carry them. They stripped Tovazh of whatever was valued and useful and brought it to Mierzel’s Compound.
“Tovazh’s Star was pulsing, throbbing, so the flakes tell it; the air burned mouth and lungs, the earth groaned beneath their feet. Cubs wailed. Adults quarreled, fainted, fought; some died. Seekers struggled with the Gate; there was much the acolytes didn’t know about its workings, perhaps only Mierzel ap Xon ever really understood what he created. At last they got the Gate open. An advance party stepped through and discovered the Ever-Hunger; two out of twenty got back to describe what had happened. The Kinra and the Seekers struggled to deal with that, but time was running out; finally they had no choice, they began sending Ykx through with instructions to flee from the Gate as swiftly as possible.
“There was another danger waiting for the folk widecast through that Gate. Mistommerk was already inhabited by native sentients who called themselves the Min. They were not happy about this influx of intruders and they were frightened by our gear. They attacked. Much not lost to the Ever-Hunger succumbed to the depredations of the Min.”
The lounging cat-weasel shifted, put a paw on Lipitero’s foot, claws out enough to prick her.
Lipitero looked down, chuckled. “I get the points, Ti.” She cleared her throat, gulped down a few mouthfuls of the lukewarm iska; she was more tired by this talking than she’d been any time during the long trek across Mistommerk, her head ached and her throat felt raw. A little more, I’m halfway through. Back to work, old woman. “Depredations isn’t exactly the right word; the Min were defending themselves against invaders. After the initial hostilities, Ykx and Min established a fingertip, tooth-end peace that very slowly developed into a limited trade between the two species. We … yes, I will say we, since I am born of them and what they did … we established five filled Gathers scattered about Mistommerk and a sixth Work Gather close to the Gate. We had inflicted the Ever-Hunger on the Min of Mistommerk, we owed it to them and to ourselves to remove the scourge.
“After Mierzel loosed the Hunger, it raged the hills about the Gate destroying all animal life, including the Min living there. Though it was tied to the Gate, it grew and grew, reached ever farther to feed on the life around it. It was amorphous, invisible and as far as we could determine, it was unkillable. We tried to drive it back through the Gate, but could not. We tried to destroy the Gate, thinking that might cause the Hunger to wither and die, but we could not. In the end we managed to confine the Hunger into a space a kilometer square behind a white wall that generated a most peculiar field which the Ever-Hunger couldn’t pass. For decades after that Ykx came to Gate Gather to study the Hunger, but as the years passed interest in the beast diminished. We were too busy recreating the life we’d enjoyed on Tovazh to bother with it.
“Decades turned to centuries. And the time came when we learned how badly we’d botched our work on the Gate. Tovazh’s sun flared again and the Gate opened. Not only did it open, but it summoned to it the Chalarosh living on Tovazh. They’d won control of the world a few decades earlier. Chala aren’t noted for their interest in abstract science;
they stole their technology, then bought experts to keep it running. They forgot about the last flares or maybe they thought that was a one-time thing, so when the cycle came around again, it caught them unprepared. Except for the Gate, they would have fried, those Chalarosh holding Tovazh. Instead, they came pouring through the Gate, falling into the throat of the Ever-Hunger. The Wall frustrated the Hunger a bit, but it dined well that year, feeding on the weakest and most suggestible of the refugees. That was the second Wave of invaders to hit Mistommerk. Again and again, right on schedule, the Tovazhi Sun flared, Wave after Wave of refugees tumbled through. Balayar. Funor Ashon. Nagamar. Aggitj. Skirrik. Pallah. Lot of trouble, lot of turmoil. We avoided most of it, we Ykx; our Gathers were away from the trade routes and migration lines. More centuries slid past. We diminished. For the longest time we didn’t realize what was happening. Then one Gather was empty. Another withered. The other Waves were sometimes hostile, hunting us, that is how my children died. It is not an easy place, a safe place, our Mistommerk. There is another thing you should know. Something on Mistommerk depresses fertility. Our Seekers have tried to isolate it and failed. Skirrik have been working on it with their cleverest growmasters; they’ve learned enough to suspect a synergism of some kind, unfortunately a different one with each species. Ahh! Are the words the same? I’m getting tangled. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I believe I’ve got the heart of it. You’re being very candid.”
“I have to be. I need volunteers who know what to expect; otherwise, they’ll die.”
“Tell me why I should allow my Rallykx to listen to you.”
Lipitero smiled wearily. “I could play tricks, but I won’t. I can offer you copies of our records from the ancient times, including starship/insplit technology, the history and literature of Ysterai, there are some gaps but not huge ones, all of Mierzel’s studies and experiments with the Gate between universes, a selection of the history and literature of the Ykx on Mistommerk.”
The Kinravaly chuckled. “Do you know, I think I’d kill for a moiety of that.”
“Have you anything more you would like to ask me?”
The Kinravaly rubbed her palm back and forth along the arm of her chair. “It’s hard to know where to start. The Min, I think. We encountered natives here and they found the experience unfortunate; they died of it.”
Lipitero laughed. “The Min? They’re alive, healthy, some friendly, some hostile. There’s not a chance we could wipe them out if we wanted to and we don’t.”
“So you say. Another universe. Another species. What are they like?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Playing games?”
“Just a bit. You see my bodyguard?”
“A beautiful beast. Well-trained.”
“Hardly a beast.” She nudged the cat-weasel with her toe. “Wake up, Ti-cat. Show the Kinravaly what a Min is.”
Ti-cat yawned, got to her feet, stretched, then walked lazily to the center of the patio. She showed her teeth again, flexed her muscles, flicked ears and tail, purring all the time. Then she shifted.
A large owl stood blinking huge golden eyes at the Kinravaly. Ti-owl spread her wings, hooted, powered into the air. She made a single circuit over the garden, landed beside a couch that had a bright throw tossed on it.
A slender pale-skinned Pallah woman with long curly black hair stood beside the couch. She pulled the throw off it, wrapped it quickly and neatly around her, took a dagger pin from Lipitero and stabbed it through the cloth. “Min,” she said. “A short sample.” She pushed Lipitero’s feet off the hassock and sat there. “It’s a complicated world.”
The Kinravaly closed her mouth, then closed her eyes for a moment. She lay back in her chair, body rippling with short spasms of laughter. “Min,” she said and opened her eyes. “What is your name, shape-changer?”
“Timka.”
“Timka, if you pull that trick a few times more and tell my Ykx that thousands like you live on Mistommerk, you’ll have to beat them off with clubs. There ARE thousands like you?”
“Several million.”
“Ah. I wish … no. Do you think some of your folk could come to us?”
“I don’t know. Some might like to … Petro?”
“Not soon. Aalda’s sun is due to flare before the year is out. Tovazh’s sun. It will be some years after that before anyone can put down on that world. If you could get another Gate open to Mistommerk …”
“Yes. I see. Tell me, how did you Tovazhykx ever deal with … with shape-shifters who could look like your long lost cousin if they chose?”
“They’re not so flexible as all that. Not many of them can match Timka shift for shift. When we came through, the Min were herders and farmers. Those bodies, you know. No incentive to industrialize. Wrong mindset. They’ve changed since then, of course. Rubbing up against all the Waves. New plants, new beasts, new languages, new ways of thinking, new shapes for their bodies. Interesting world.”
“Very.” The Kinravaly brooded a moment, looked up. “Rostico Burn?”
“Yes. Skeen found him and he brought us here.” Lipitero traced figure eights in the soft wood of her chair’s arm. “What sort of welcome would he get if he showed his face down here?”
“You mean would we tie him to a pole and set fire to his feet?”
“Something like that.”
“My influence is perhaps more limited than you think.”
“I am Ykx.”
“Our branches have diverged for a very long time.”
“Perhaps I delude myself.”
“And I.” The Kinravaly frowned thoughtfully. “My responsibilities always seem to outrace my reach. About Burn. He’ll be safe in the Reserve, otherwhere, you had better talk to the Kinra. I won’t give him my Hand, if that’s what you’re asking. A suggestion. He should stay on this side of the world if he decides to put his toe to ground. Sulleggen or Uratesto will fry his gizzard for him if they get hold of him. Hmm. If I send you out with my guards, I’m setting my seal on you; if I let you go about as you please, the All-Wise alone knows what disasters you’ll tumble into. And I’d still be putting my seal on you, because I haven’t stopped you or sent you away.” She dropped her head back and stared up at the carved wooden squares that ceiled the patio. “And either way, I feel like I’d be selling Ykx. I want what you offer. I want it badly, Speaker. I just don’t see how I can justify letting you loose to talk Rallykx into following you.”
Lipitero sheathed her claws and stroked her fingerpads over the scars on her chest. Timka re-crossed her ankles, wiggled her toes; she slid the dagger pin out of her wrap, retucked it and stabbed the pin back. She was restless, nervous. Distracted for a moment by Timka’s fidgeting, Lipitero found herself wondering what the Min thought about this business; if I succeed, there’ll be more Ykx on Mistommerk, more invaders. She brushed the thought away, no time for it now. “Volunteers, Kinravaly Rallen. I can’t deal with conscripts.”
“And I can’t throw Ykx into the void without some check on them. Even if they are volunteers.”
“Ah. Yah. That’s a problem. I told you. There’s one working Gate. One. It’s on a world that’s due to cook for a few years so no one can get in or out of it. Not till the surface cools enough for a ship to land.”
Timka looked up from the cloth she was pleating over her thighs. “Send someone you trust with us. He or she can see a bit of Mistommerk, see that Petro is telling the truth about the Gate. You don’t need more than that, do you? Your agent can come back with Skeen and report what happened.”
The Kinravaly’s lips twitched into a tight smile. She shook her head. “If you are slavers or something equally dangerous, that’s giving you one more victim, not a guarantee of good faith.”
“I know that.” Timka shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be; ’twas a suggestion for shortening your worry time. It’d make this a bit less like jumping into a bottomless pit. What it comes to, you trust Petro and the r
est of us, or you don’t.”
“Hmm. I’d feel more comfortable about this if someone in your party was committed to something more than this one visit to Rallen. This Skeen. He? She?”
“She,” Timka said; she straightened her back and looked interested.
“Would she be willing to discuss trade agreements with the Kinra?”
Timka chuckled. “Willing isn’t quite the proper word, eh, Petro?”
Lipitero felt her mouth trying to stretch into a broad beaming grin; before she could speak, she had to damp down the joy starting to bubble in her blood. It was going to happen, it was, it really was. The Kinravaly was biting on the bait. When she had her voice under control, she said, “Yes. For a lot of reasons Skeen would be delighted. Um. Don’t let that fool you though, she’s a wily bargainer.”
“I see. You have told me how the Tovazhykx got to Mistommerk. I’d like to know how you yourself got back through the Gate and where this Skeen fits in.”
“Ahh.” Lipitero emptied her cup for the third time; the iska was cold now but drinkable and it soothed her throat. “It’s a long story. And complicated.”
“More iska?”
“If you don’t mind.”
The Kinravaly pulled the cord. “Anki will bring another pot. Do you want to wait?”
“Timka knows the first part better than I. Ti?”
“Why not.” The little Min smoothed her hands along her thighs, looked thoughtfully down the grassy slope toward the dark hump of Workhorse showing above the walls. “This is what Skeen told me.…”
“That’s what they said.” The Kinravaly walked to the front edge of the patio and stood looking at the weave of the Firestreaks drawn across the night sky. “That improbable creature and Lipitero the Bereft. What a story. Do you believe any of it?”
Zelzony clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Do you?”
Zuistro wandered back, stretched out in her chair, laced her fingers over her stomach fur. “Oh, yes. Lipitero is so transparent and so determined to be honest, poor thing. Her Remmyo’s clever to send her; she’ll be very effective in the Gurns if the Kinra allow her to speak. You know which will and which won’t. They’re fools, aren’t they, that happy pair. Zeli, make sure the folk in Marrallat and Urolol know about our visitors.”
