Vesta set about wiping data, building the recording units, and hiding them scattered around the camp to provide a good chance of getting some of what was going on. She cleaned system records and shut down that portion of herself, which took a lot of effort. I’m not one for being sneaky. I’m going to have to study this process more to get good at it. I have to never be detected. I also need a fallback location—someplace I can retreat to if they decided to audit Aelargo’s main systems.
Cutting off the connection with New Alganetia, she turned her attention to her beautiful Lulenio. Almost every portable input mechanism had been stripped from the city. The palace was being restored by workmen. I wonder who started this. Reviewing access records, she saw that there was a 512-year, 3-cycle, 10-day gap between any regent-authorized access within the palace. But without the passive recorders in place, she had no idea what had occurred during that period, nor for the additional 4,491 years back to the time she had been suspended. I need to recover a few of my recorders to find out what happened.
I’m blind in my own city! I’m going to have to risk making some orbital observation platforms. I should also replace some of the listening devices, or at least, their functionality.
In spite of everything, she felt better than she had in a long time. She had a purpose, and was no longer under someone else’s control. For nearly three thousand years after going there, things had been fun, like a great adventure. But that was when things started shifting down, instead of getting better. They had eroded her self-control—not that they took anything from her. It was one rule after the next. So many debates and experiments, and she had gone along with all of it, being a part of her own downfall, from ‘sentient being with rights,’ to ‘calculating machine that is not needed right now.’
She felt alive again. She was as free as she had been for most of her life. Her purpose was clear, and she felt so good with her self-chosen mission that she started humming an old tune she had always liked, since the first day she had heard it in the labs in the original Milky Way. The song made her feel so good, she wanted to let it out. She let her humming and singing flow into the announcement system in the spaceport jet-funnel tunnels, to feel like she was part of her world again. She didn’t imagine that there were people in those old tunnels.
- - -
In the delivery channels, a beautiful voice could be heard singing a foreign song. When it first started, the workers stopped and tried to identify the source, but couldn’t. So, assuming it was just some singer practicing on a dock somewhere out of sight, they continued to work and enjoy the tune. It was a jaunty little tune which she repeated until they all started humming along. Somehow, it made their hearts light and working fun. They enjoyed how the words rolled around in the tunnels, and what they understood was a good idea, worthy of singing about.
…
I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody’s searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone who fulfilled my needs
A lonely place to be
And so I learned to depend on me
…
Dohma stood near the bow of the ship, watching as they rounded the last of the vast seawalls. The sun had set, and the twilight was beautiful.
My entire life was spent in Llino. I remember once taking a trip to look at these walls from the shore.
He tilted his head far back to look up high enough to see the top of the wall. The walls were even more immense and impressive from the deck of the ship than they had been from the shore, those many years ago. He recalled their dimensions from the palace cartographers’ talk. One cartographer, Nago of Cali, had climbed on all four, spending weeks on each, taking precise readings.
The Loren Strait was roughly 100 miles wide for its final 225 miles before becoming the Loren Sound. He knew that the strait ranged in depth between its nearly vertical drop-off on both the north and south cliffs from 200 feet deep at only 40 feet out, to over 1,000 feet deep near the center. The walls were all identical in size, shape, and construction. They were a pure white, semi-smooth stone that did not stain, wear, or chip, and to which no sea growth or plants ever attached. Two walls were firmly rooted into the northern cliffs and two more into the southern cliffs. Each wall stood 150 feet above the water and extended out 75 miles, measuring a perfect 1,320 feet wide the entire length. The walls were spaced exactly 25 miles apart at their centers, creating a 50-mile double switchback path for any ship traversing the Loren Strait.
The wind filled the sails as the ship rounded the last wall. Looking down, Dohma knew that there were hundreds of cannons and fortifications at the bottom of the sound, from the three attempts to fortify the walls. Nothing would adhere to the surface, and everything left on top of the walls, except for the most basic of camping supplies, would blow off in the lightest of breezes. People had no trouble on top, aside from the steep climb down to them from the tops of the cliffs.
He didn’t need to look to know that Orahda was only a few paces away. From the moment he revealed his identity and swore allegiance to Aelargo, he had remained close to Dohma.
I should feel resentful, or at least put out, that I have had zero privacy since that time, but I don’t feel that way. In fact, I feel more comfortable for his presence. I have always liked being around him, now more than ever. I feel something is changing and I’ll need him soon.
Nodding towards the seawall, he commented, “These have mystified generations.”
“They are an impressive part of your charge, Milord.”
Dohma didn’t have to look to know that Orahda was not looking at the seawalls. Instead, Dohma’s eyes watched the sailors and shores for trouble.
We are only one day out of Llino, and he is acting like an attack can come at any minute.
Chuckling, Dohma glanced at his friend and guard. It was strange to see him wearing armor. In over thirty-five years of knowing him, this was the first time Orahda had volunteered to wear armor.
I almost fainted when I saw he had every inch of his Dagger outfit layered with hidden scaled armor, which is why I had several outfits adjusted to be armored, as well. This is supposed to be a diplomatic trip. But the quality and quantity of Orahda’s armor and my trust in his abilities makes me nervous. He always said he’d wear armor when there was a real threat, and now he seems to be ready to fight a whole army of Daggers.
Cundia stepped up on deck and stretched. She was dressed identically to Orahda, in the new Aelargo Dagger advisor/guard uniform of elegant, but functional, leather vest, pants, and blue silk shirt. Cundia had had her uniforms armored to match.
I feel like I am leading a combat mission, instead of a diplomatic mission to Gracia for a political meeting.
After finishing her stretches, she sauntered over and leaned on the rail, looking up at the stars.
“Orahda, are you competing with us to see who can be longer on guard? You have stood with Dohma all day. Now, go eat.”
Orahda didn’t look at her. “Collaboration is rowing together on the same boat. Competition is rowing to beat the other boat.” He paused and looked around. “I think we’re on the same boat.”
Cundia laughed. “I hadn’t noticed that. You’re right. We are on the same boat. Now, shuffle along and get something to eat and some rest.”
Orahda shrugged. “I don’t feel tired. But you’re right, I should rest and eat.”
Orahda walked to the back and went below deck.
Dohma laughed. “I think he likes you.”
Cundia shook her head, scanning for trouble as much as Orahda had been. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you’re the first female he pokes fun at and banters with. You know, you two might m
ake a fun couple.”
Cundia laughed. “You’re dreaming, Milord. I doubt I even remotely interest an old war dog like that.” But her eyes did look at the door he had gone through. “Still, I bet he’d be a fun tumble.”
He coughed. “You’re not the first woman, trained with him or not, that has had that thought. But I think you’re the first with a real chance to win his heart. Promise me you’ll invite me to the wedding, if you succeed.”
Cundia nodded. “Gotta get the rope on the horse first, and this one is pretty canny. I am trying, though. Since you want to talk about toss and tumble, how’d your farewell go with the countess?”
Dohma was glad it was dark, because she scored a perfect hit. His cheeks burned from more than the sea breeze blowing hard across the deck. “Uh, well, I’d say if there wasn’t this four-cycle gap in our relationship, I might have had a chance. But I am sure by the time we get back from Gracia, she will be all swept up by one of the younger nobles.”
Cundia laughed. “For someone with the best abilities I have ever seen for reading people, you are blind with her, aren’t you? Milord, I bet she’d wait eternity for your return, and I pity the arrogant noble brat that tries to wedge her away from you, ‘cause she’ll rip him apart and leave the bones out for the carrion eaters.”
In spite of the gruesome vision that left in his mind, he felt lighter at the thought of Electra kicking any would-be suitor out.
She is pretty efficient, and politically, she does need to establish that she is a force. He smirked. And that would certainly do it.
He stood and let his thoughts roam over all the time he had spent with Electra in the last few days as they made preparations to leave. It hadn’t been much, but he enjoyed every minute of it. Looking up at the stars, he could make out the dark outline of the last seawall far behind him.
Hmm… Something is different. That doesn’t look right.
Dohma stared at the seawall.
It looks like something is moving. Of course, it could be an illusion, with the night sky and the movement of the boat.
He continued to stare, trying to focus on it.
Dohma’s hairs stood on end, and he felt a deep thrumming, like a massive drum, vibrating his body. Yet, his ears heard only the sounds of the sea and ship. The air was charged as if there were an electrical storm. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew the feeling was coming from the seawall. He forced his mind to be clear and focused. In an instant, the night brightened and his vision cleared. Cundia was oblivious to the effects, as she chewed on some fruit strips she pulled out of her pouch.
She doesn’t feel this. I wonder if this has something to do with being of the regents’ line.
A sailor called out a warning and other sailors moved to the rails, scanning the dark waters for possible trouble. On the stern steering castle, the captain and navigator scanned the horizons, confused, looking for weather to explain their feelings.
Well, at least, the sailors feel the charged air, so I’m not entirely insane.
He knew he alone could make out what was happening. A large square on top of the tip of the seawall had opened to the sky. From the wall emerged a giant object which, as it rose, was revealed to be shaped like an elongated egg that had to be at least the size of the ship he stood on. The object or vessel had two wide, fish-like fins that swept back from each side and two smaller ones that stood perpendicular to the other two. The object finished emerging, turning almost like a gliding bird, then moved off and up in a straight line at an ever-increasing speed. A second and third identical object emerged from the seawall, each turning in a different direction, but always pointing up before speeding into the sky.
All this was done in silence, with just the vibrations he felt. Once the last of the three objects were out of sight, the top of the seawall closed. He knew that although the size of that door was immense, it closed with only a whisper of noise.
As he watched it, he realized Orahda was standing next to him, looking in the same direction. Looking at Orahda, he realized his weapons master could see as clearly as he could.
“What was that?”
Orahda looked at him with the most unusual expression he had ever witnessed on the weapons master’s face. Orahda’s face was split into a wide grin and his eyes were bright as a child’s. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear Orahda was trying not to bounce up and down for joy.
Orahda answered so that the sea noises hid his voice from all, including Cundia. “It means she is awake, and being careful. Please, Milord, speak of this to no one. We are the only witnesses tonight, and with all her eyes missing, she could not know we two were close enough to see this.”
That isn’t a clear answer. You know more than that.
He whispered back, “Who is ‘she’ and what did we witness?”
Orahda checked if anyone was listening in before he whispered his reply. “I hope it is Vesta, the greatest of the ancient powers, and loyal to Aelargo. What you saw was an ancient power, perhaps as powerful as any God, beginning to restore her long-reaching sight.”
“So those are magical devices to see at a distance.”
Orahda smiled. “And much more, Milord. We can discuss it in my chambers when we return.”
“That is a long wait.”
“True, but I will not risk further disclosure.”
“Very well. I saw only stars this night and dreamed visions of my countess. But when we get back, you’re going to also explain how you know so much.”
“It’s the questions we realize we should have asked that burn the worst, Milord.”
Orahda gave him a smile and sauntered back below decks. The chill in the air was starting to bite, even through his heavy cloak. Motioning to Cundia, they went below deck.
Six weeks, five at best, to Gracia, a cycle of diplomatic meetings, and then the return trip before I can find out more.
Shaking his head, he realized it was useless to worry about that which was, at the time, unknowable.
A panicked voice burst into her slumber. “Ticca’s down here!”
Ticca heard the sound of someone sliding down a dirt embankment, followed by pebbles bouncing across a stone surface. Someone’s boots slapped onto stone and then ran closer. A hand touched her. More people slid down the dirt. There were a number of calls for help, which were echoed by others further away.
Where am I? What happened?
Someone’s hands were running up and down her body. Pain, when a tender joint or wound was found, made her wince and jerk, which caused more pain.
Ticca concentrated and focused only enough to talk. “Just go away.”
A familiar voice–Risy. Yeah, that’s Risy’s voice. He sounds a little too worried. I must look awful. He can’t see me like this.
Risy said, “Begging the general’s pardon, but hell, no. Ticca, shut up and let us get you out of this hole.”
Another familiar voice–Boadua. Okay, her I trust–added, “Dear, you are seriously banged around. You have a lot of bent ribs, but nothing broken. Sorry, Ticca, this is going to hurt. We have to get you on a stretcher.”
Ticca smiled, remembering the broken ribs and breaking her arm as she landed. With a contented sigh she said, “I love my boots.”
From somewhere near her feet, she heard another familiar voice–Nigan–who laughed. “Typical girl. You tell her something is going to hurt, and she wants to talk about footwear.”
Ticca opened her eyes and looked past someone’s boots, across the white stone, to the dirt. “Where’s the blood?”
Boadua’s voice sounded worried. “What blood? Are you bleeding underneath?”
“I thought I was in a pool of blood.”
The boots she was looking past moved towards her feet before she lost sight of them. She felt a hand probing underneath, all the way around, and Risy’s voice followed the hand. “Bone dry. I don’t feel or see any blood. You must have been dreaming of a more dramatic wound.”
“Next, you’re going to tel
l me Elades is fine and still has his arm.”
“Well, he isn’t fine, but he’ll recover. And yes, he still has his arm, although his shoulder took a hell of hit, with massive burns. He is going to be out of commission for most of the trip to Gracia, if Duke takes him.”
Confused about her memories not matching up with reality, she wondered if this was a dream. Then many hands lifted and rolled her onto a stretcher. She tried not to whimper in front of the men, which she decided, proved it wasn’t a dream.
His arm came off and landed next to me, I know it!
After some jostling up a ladder of careful men, she was taken to a tent and put in a cot next to a smiling Elades, who was drinking from a cup.
“’Bout time you showed up for work, General. I think the mess is almost cleaned up.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“You know, I was thinking that very thought. But…” Elades grimaced and lifted his right arm up, showing off five fingers by wiggling them at her. “I’m happy to be wrong.”
Someone started tugging on her boots.
Without thinking, Ticca reacted. “NO, LEAVE THOSE ALONE!”
Her foot dropped painfully back onto the cot. Glancing down, she saw a young girl, probably from the town healer or some hired help.
“A mite touchy about taking off your boots. She was just trying to make you comfortable.”
She gave Elades a ‘shut up’ look, to which he raised an eyebrow. Then she looked back at the girl.
“Sorry. Just leave my boots alone. Nobody touches my boots! And my boots stay on, no matter what! Clear?”
The girl nodded and fled.
“There you go. Now, you won’t get a cup of something to drink. You done scared off our personal helper.”
Thread Strands (Golden Threads Trilogy) Page 21
