“Why didn’t you use one of the lesser gates and go straight from Val-hrodhur to Jjaan-bi?” Poco asked.
“It was tried. The Seekers were too few and the crystal too heavy a mass to move in that manner. I am not sure it could have been accomplished had we had five times our number of Seekers.”
“You spoke of betrayal,” Dhal said, bringing the conversation back to the enemy atich-ar.
“Yes,” Chulu replied. “I believe it began when Chemii, leader of the atich-ar, visited Val-hrodhur during those first weeks after the gate was discovered. On one of his visits he was taken to see the Tamorlee. It is my guess that once he saw the crystal and recognized it as the source of power enhancing the natural talents of the Ni, he decided to have it for his own. All that followed was a fulfillment of that desire.”
“What happened?” Dhal asked, crystal eyes intent upon the older Ni.
“Zaa-ob and the Singers he had trained opened the I-naal gate and we took the crystal through. It required one hundred of our people to move the Tamorlee, and at least that many of the atich-ar. Once we had the crystal through the gate, some of us went back for the Sensitives who were still entranced and holding the gate open. After we carried them through, the gate was to be released and we would be closed off from Lach until our Singers created another gate leading to Jjaan-bi.”
Chulu paused, his eyes focusing on a scene from the past. “Amet and I were the last to go through the gate. It was our responsibility to see that no one was left behind. Val-hrodhur was to be completely abandoned—for how long we dared not even guess.”
Chulu’s voice softened. “Val-hrodhur was my home. I had never thought to leave there. I realize now that we would have been better off to have stayed and fought the Sarissa. We might have won, and we still would have Val-hrodhur and the Tamorlee. It is so easy to look back and see one’s mistakes.”
“Please go on,” Dhal said. “What happened at the gate?”
“A youngling by the name of Ree was the last Sensitive on our side of the gate. Amet and I started to pick him up, then we heard someone screaming. We looked up just as a group of our people came running back through the gate. For a moment there was such confusion that Amet and I did not realize what was going on. Then suddenly there were atich-ar among us, wielding swords and killing indiscriminately. More and more of our people appeared and right behind them ran more of the atich-ar. Amet and I fought side by side trying to defend Ree, who was still entranced.”
Chulu shook his head. “It seemed that the battle went on for a long time, but it could not have been more than a few minutes. When it was over there were dead all around us. Ree was among them—and the I-naal gate was closed.”
Chulu took a deep breath, then continued. “It did not take long to realize that of all those who had made it back through the gate, not one was a Singer. Amet later told of seeing Zaa-ob on the other side of the gate just before it closed. He said the Singer was being restrained by several of the enemy atich-ar.
“Of the one hundred-odd Ni who crossed into Ari-al, thirty-six made it back to Lach, and of those thirty-six, only fifteen survived the battle with the atich-ar who crossed to our side of the gate.
“Our greatest loss, except for the crystal itself, was the loss of l’Tamorlee, our Speaker, he who is in direct contact with the crystal. He was young and adventurous, and he chose to travel with the crystal rather than use his Seeker powers to teleport safely to Jjaan-bi.”
“Was he one of those who died at the gate?” Dhal asked.
“No. His body was not among those we buried in Val-hrodhur. He may be alive; he may be dead. We have no way of knowing.”
“What happened after the gate closed?” Dhal asked.
“With the gate closed and no Singer on our side to open it again, all we could do was wait to see what would happen. There was some talk of a possible invasion of Lach by the atich-ar, but it never came to pass. There are some who ascribe to the theory that once the atich-ar have time to study the crystal and the captured Ni, they will use the gate to launch an attack.”
“After so many years do you think it likely?” Poco asked.
“More than twenty years have passed since we lost the Tamorlee. Many believe that if the atich-ar planned an invasion, they would have made their move by now. Others disagree and believe that the atich-ar are using this time to build forces, so that when they invade, they will have the numbers to destroy us. After witnessing the ferocity of their attack years ago, I find myself leaning toward the second theory. When the atich-ar are ready, they will attack.”
Though Chulu’s fear closely paralleled Retath’s warning, Poco found herself wondering. “I don’t understand why they would want to make war on the Ni,” she said. “Knowing they share a common ancestry with the Ni-lach, why wouldn’t they seek to link with you in friendship?”
“I don’t know,” Chulu answered. “But I would guess that like the Sarissa, the atich-ar feared something they did not understand. Perhaps they even thought that by taking the Tamorlee from us, it would weaken our powers, and we would no longer be a threat to them.”
“Do you think the atich-ar will some day try to invade Lach?” Dhal asked.
Chulu nodded. “Yes, I do. And think on this! If you were Chemii and you wanted to keep what you had stolen, wouldn’t you try to safeguard it from being retaken? And if your enemies had the power to create doors into your world, doors for which you had no locks, what would you do?”
Dhal thought a moment. “If I could not control the doors, I would try to control the ones who could make them.”
“Correct. There is a possibility that Chemii has coerced the Ni he captured into helping him. If he has, he could already be sending his spies among us. That is why we were so careful with all of you. As it is, I doubt Amet trusts you yet.”
“Do you?” Dhal asked bluntly.
Chulu looked around the circle, his glance touching each of them briefly. “Do not ask me why but, yes, I think I do trust you, all of you.”
“A moment ago you spoke about Chemii sending spies to Lach,” Poco said, “Have you sent anyone to Ari-al recently?”
“In the last few years, yes, a few.”
“Have you learned anything from them?”
“I am sorry, Pocalina, that I cannot tell you. All I can say is that for years we have been working and planning toward the retaking of the Tamorlee. What has held us up so long has been finding and training enough Sensitives and Singers to hoid the I-naal pattern for as long as it need be held. We now have twelve Singers who are familiar with the energy pattern of the gate, and there are nine Sensitives now working with us.”
“Ten if you count Taav,” Dhal said softly.
Chulu glanced at the atich-ar, then looked back at Dhal. “By that can I assume that you and your friends are interested in helping us retrieve the Tamorlee?”
Dhal nodded.
Chulu looked at Poco. “And you, Singer, can we enlist your help in opening the I-naal gate?”
“The atich-ar will be watching for us,” Poco warned.
“As we have been watching for them,” Chulu responded.
Poco hesitated, but only for a moment. “If you trust me enough to ask for my help, I guess I have no reason to refuse.”
Chapter 23
POCO, DHAL, SCREECH, GI, AND TAAV FOUND LIFE IN the Ni-lach city of Jjaan-bi unlike anything they had ever experienced before. Each day they toured a different section of the mountain city, walking down tree-shaded lanes which wound among giant aban trees, and up and down stone stairways which hugged the contours of the mountainside.
On their third day in the city, their guide, a Ni named Caaras, took them to Lake Hadrach, which bordered the city to the north. The lake was so large that they could not see the farthest shore.
They arrived early enough in the morning to watch some fishing boats move out into the green mist which overhung the water.
“Do the Ni still use draak to help them with their catches?
” Dhal asked.
“Yes,” Caaras replied. “While most of the Ni work on setting the nets, several of our finest Draak Singers go out to call the water draak to service, then they guide the draak in toward the place where the nets are set.”
Dhal stood on the docks looking back at the city. “How many people live in Jjaan-bi?”
“We used to number around five hundred. We are closer to two thousand now,” Caaras answered.
“Is the increase due to your preparation for a war with the atich-ar?”
“Yes, partly. The Ni were widely scattered before the war with the Sarissa and the loss of the Tambrlee. Our way was to live in small groups. But we learned that if we wanted to survive as a people, against both the Sarissa and the atich-ar, we had to unite and make plans for our defense.”
A few days later, Poco and Dhal visited the Jjaan-bi Learning Arc, a large, wood building erected on a well-protected plateau, treetop high above the lake. There they saw young Ni being taught to read and write and sing— and to understand the history of the Ni and the importance of the giant crystalline life form called the Tamorlee.
From there they toured some of the lower tunnelways that honeycombed the mountainside. The tunnels were used both for living room and storage. Because of the large growth in the population, many Ni chose to live in these underground rooms in order to be close to the center of the city. Those who had been longer in residence usually had tree homes. Long vine and wood walkways linked tree home to tree home in an unending labyrinth.
The tree home that Dhal, Poco, Screech, Gi, and Taav shared belonged to Caaras, and was on one of the higher slopes above the storage caves. From there it was a ten-minute walk to the main Trade Gardens, a large, walled-in square where all types of goods were displayed for sale or trade. According to Caaras, the Trade Gardens were open to all, even to the small contingent of men who in the past had made their way up the Owri River from the Reaches.
On the morning of their ninth day in Jjaan-bi, Poco stood at a window overlooking Lake Hadrach. Her back was to Dhal, who was just rising from a late afternoon nap, a luxury they had shared together.
She gazed downvalley. Jjaan-bi is beautiful, she thought. Here all is order and privacy. The planning which had gone into the forest city was striking in contrast to the hodge-podge of stone stairways, sprawling buildings, and webbed streets of Port Bhalvar.
She stretched her arms and turned to find Dhal watching her from the thick grass mat which served them as a bed.
She smiled as she walked across the floor. “Think you have had enough sleep?” she asked him.
“For a while,” he replied. He reached up and took her hand.
Poco gave in to the gentle tug on her arm and lay down beside him. She let him kiss her, but pushed him away when his hands started to stroke her back, hips, and buttocks.
“No, Dhal!” She laughed. “Enough of that! We cannot lie here all afternoon making love.”
Dhal pushed himself up onto his elbows and grinned. “Why not? We have nowhere special to go.”
“What if Caaras should come up?”
“He would not barge in without giving a holler. Anyway, we are to eat at his parent’s home tonight. He won’t bother us unless we fail to show up on time.”
“Caaras has become a good friend, hasn’t he?” she asked.
“Yes, I like him,” Dhal admitted.
“You have made a lot of friends here.”
Dhal sobered. “I think part of it is being accepted for what I am, Poco. Here I can walk among people without hiding my hair or eyes; and here no one calls me devil-spawned when I use my power to heal. I haven’t felt this free since the days before I learned who I really was.”
“I am glad for you, Dhal. I really am.”
Poco leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her lips. I only hope that some day they will accept me as easily, she thought.
She lay quietly in Dhal’s arms, her ear pressed against his chest listening to his heart beat. She felt strange, frightened, as if suddenly she was on the brink of losing something, a part of herself that she could not name. Damn, she thought, but I am getting moody lately. Must be the pregnancy.
She tightened her arms around Dhal. Here is reality, she thought. Dhal, Jjaan-bi, the Ni-lach. There is nothing to be afraid of. Just relax and stop creating problems where they don’t exist.
“Poco, is something wrong?” Dhal said softly.
Poco released Dhal and rolled to a sitting position. She avoided his eyes as she combed her hair with her fingers, shaking it out behind her.
“I think it’s time we were up and moving,” she said.
“Poco, tell me what is wrong,” Dhal said.
She turned to face him. “Nothing is wrong. I was—I was just thinking about Taav,” she lied. “I was wondering who he really is, and where he comes from. Do you think there is any chance of his being one of the enemy atich-ar?”
Dhal sat up. He studied her, then shrugged, accepting her lie. “He could be, Poco, but it is something we cannot worry about now. In his present state I don’t think he presents much of a risk one way or the other.”
Poco stood and went back toward the window. “I wonder where Screech, Taav, and Gi are. They have been gone all afternoon.”
“Where do we usually find them?” he said, as he padded across to the window to join her.
Screech and Gi shared one common trait, curiosity. Whenever they were long absent, they could usually be found wandering about the open stalls in the Trade Gardens, poking fingers and noses into anything that captured their interest. Gi was especially fond of lingering near the food stalls, while Screech spent most of his time looking over Ni jewelry; his fascination for Ni art was becoming an obsession.
Poco looked at Dhal as he stood in the windowlight. His green hair fell free to his shoulders; his pale skin had taken on a blue shadow that accented bone and muscle. In that moment Poco saw him not as her lover and mate, but rather as a Ni Healer, one of the mysterious Green Ones, the illusive forest folk whom man had yet to tame to his way of life.
She watched Dhal out of the corner of her eye and again felt that flicker of uneasiness. I am going to lose him, she thought. If not to this war with the atich-ar, then to his own people.
The words came unbidden to her mind and though she flinched from them, she also recognized a truth. She had witnessed the changes taking place in Dhal ever since their discovery of Val-hrodhur, and week by week, as they made their way out of Port Sulta and across the plains, she had seen him grow and mature.
And he was not the only one who had changed, she acknowledged. Where was that chalk artist who wandered the streets of Port Bhalvar looking for that something in life that would have it all make sense? What had happened to Pocalina-fel-Jamba, the woman who thought she knew everything there was to know about men and their desires; who took pity on a Ni being hunted by the Port Guard and who found herself unable to let him walk out of her life?
Dhal turned to look at her, then stepped close and pulled her into a hug. “What is wrong, Poco?” he asked softly. “Please, tell me how I can help.”
Poco returned his embrace, hiding her face in his hair. “There is no help for me,” she answered. “I am just dreaming up problems that will never see daylight. It’s a favorite pastime these days.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you about them sometime. You’ll laugh.”
“Tell me now.”
“No, not now. Later.”
Dhal knew when not to press. “All right, later. Why don’t we go down to the lake for a swim. Then we’ll come back and get ready for supper. Maybe by that time Gi, Taav, and Screech will show up. If not, we can go look for them.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
Dhal and Poco swam for a while, then sat on the rocks near the diving pools and watched young Ni plummet from the cliffs, their graceful dives into the deep water below making Poco think of blue-feathered rimsang birds
which fished the shores, their brightly colored bodies blurs of motion as they dove into the sea to fish. She was delighted by the fluid grace and perfection of the divers and would gladly have sat there the rest of the afternoon, but Dhal reminded her of their promise to Caaras and together they returned to the tree home that they shared with their friends.
Poco was sitting on the grass mat combing Dhal’s hair when she heard Gi’s whistle.
“About time,” she said.
Dhal laughed. “I told you they would be back before suppertime. Gi never misses a meal.”
Poco patted Dhal’s shoulder. “All finished. Soon your hair will be long enough for braids if you want to wear it that way.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Find us both a fresh tunic, Poco. Caaras left some in that kist over there.”
Poco was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the tunics she found. She was sure she had never owned any that were woven with so rich or soft a fabric. She chose a blue ankle-length tunic for herself, and for Dhal she found a dark green hip-length tunic which would go nicely with the buff pants he had put on fresh that morning. Within the kist she also discovered several gold sashes. She decided that the sandals given them earlier that week would serve for footwear.
Poco hated to admit it, but she was excited by the prospect of having supper with Caaras’s parents. She understood that there would be other guests present, which meant a party of sorts, a rare event among the working class of Port Bhalvar. As she draped the clothes over the cushioned bench by their eating table, she could not help but wonder what price would be exacted for the gifts that Caaras had given them. She had learned early in life that few things ever came free.
She returned to the other room to find Gi sitting on the grass pallet talking to Dhal. Gi was excited about some new find in the Trade Gardens and his whistle-clicks came so fast that Poco did not even try to make sense of the conversation. Dhal would give her a translation later.
She walked over to the window where Taav and Screech were standing. Poco and Screech exchanged the derkat form of greeting, then Taav startled them both by imitating Poco’s coughing sound.
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