“I’d better step in,” Nolan said as a trio of kids hefted a long section of chimegrass into place. The structure was coming together in leaps and bounds, but their enthusiasm left little room for rest.
Avina edged close, speaking in Nolan’s ear. “Owen would like a quiet word tonight, just the three of us.”
Nolan gave a small nod without turning his head. If she was being discreet, it was for a reason. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”
“It does?” Avina asked in surprise.
Nolan smiled before stepping toward the worksite. “I’ve confirmed there’s booze here, and it’s excellent. Of course, I’m happy. Might be time to share some other details with him, since he’s thrown in with us for the long haul. Owen isn’t old—he needed a purpose, and I think we’ve given him that. But there’s something else I can do for him that will help.”
“Such as?” Avina asked.
Nolan tapped his head. “Cherry can do more than just make snarky comments.”
“I can?” Cherry asked.
“Yes, you can. And we’re going to show Owen tonight.”
They met hours later, well after the moons had risen to light the night sky with their crescents. Owen stood outside his cave, a bottle in hand and a curious expression, even in the low light. He had a paper in his other hand, rolled up tightly.
“Come with me,” Owen said. The kids were already asleep inside, the adults in with them. Avina and Nolan had lingered at the site, talking about future plans as they got caught up in possibilities. It had been a nice distraction, built on nothing going wrong for the rest of a hopefully long, natural life. So, in effect, it had been a waking dream, but given the grim reality of an uncertain future, any small comfort was welcome.
They followed Owen about fifty meters away to a small hill, the top clear except for some round boulders.
“We used to sit here and watch for ships. They never came, but we would see wrecks now and then—meteors, too. A huge comet some years back swept through like a searchlight.” Owen handed Avina the bottle, and she took a drink.
“That’s pretty good,” she said.
“Five years old. Made it from fruit and left it alone. I always wondered if I’d ever share it with anyone as Marie was failing, but then you showed up, and here we are,” Owen said. He waited for Nolan to drink, then took the bottle back and used it to point west, where the sky was dark and deep. “The Shakedowns are at the end of the Starway, but that’s not all that’s there.”
“I wondered. You were noncommittal, looking at that big bastard of a map,” Nolan said.
“I worry too much, and I don’t like telling people things that might get them killed,” Owen said.
“Killed? By frostbite? Snow? Some kind of monster?” Avina asked.
“Oh, there are creatures here that will make you wish you were in hard vacuum. I can promise you that,” Owen said.
“Like the carnivorous chimegrass? After that scene, not much would surprise me,” Nolan said.
“Sure, but we can handle a hungry plant that can’t really fight back. My concern for right now is what’s west of us. In the Shakedowns,” Owen said.
“You think I’m going there—that we’re going there?” Nolan asked.
“I do, but not without this,” Owen said, handing the document to Avina. “Another copy of the map. That map isn’t the same as it was when you found me—found me burying Marie.” The last words came out in a rush.
“Because of what happened at Sunward?” Nolan asked.
“Not just that but because of where Sunward is located. Crowe wasn’t wrong building there—he was well beyond the range of the Clock bastards and their scouts. They’ve been pushing outward ever since I arrived onworld, but now they’re moving faster. Farther. And they’re not going to leave anyone alone, I think, based on what you told me and what I’ve seen in the past. That means the eastern powers want everything, and they’re willing to kill to get it. And keep it,” Owen said.
“Something changed, and it changed in the east. Past the river?” Avina asked.
“I don’t know, but if you want us to survive beyond a few months or years, you’ll trust your instincts. The only thing tyrants understand is power. And that’s why I handed you that map. You’ll need to reference it as you go.”
“Not exactly,” Nolan said in a neutral tone.
“Oh?” Owen asked, his ear pricked up by my answer.
Nolan waved vaguely at his head. “This eye isn’t real. It’s an AI named Cherry, and I’ve got the entire map recorded. But what you and Marie have done? I can add to it.”
Owen tilted his head, thinking. “Can this AI send and receive a linkup?”
“Yes,” Nolan admitted.
Owen took an absent pull from the bottle, his expression distant in the moonlight. “And this—Cherry—can record?”
“Yes, and in high quality. How can you use it to help us?”
Owen leaned forward, his face grim with shadows. “You want to build something permanent?”
“Yes,” Nolan said.
“I’d like that as well,” Avina added.
“Then you go west, and you have to do it fast. I’ll help with the kids, and Crowe and Tilde know how to build. They’ve done it before. But the missing element in this equation is in the Shakedowns, and you might be just what we need to get—to fight back. To win,” Owen said, his eyes looking toward Marie’s grave. “The more you add to my knowledge of this land, the better our chance of survival, and the west is the easy part. The river is where the densest population is, and it’s a damned sight different from out here. We’re in the forgotten places, but the river, and the deltas? You’ll have to go through there to control anything other than the ground beneath your feet. But it starts in the west. First, you go there.”
“What’s there?” Nolan asked.
“A sublight ship, but you knew that. It’s what’s inside that matters. There’s an AI, and she’s been asleep far too long, if you ask me.”
Vondaar
North
He was a careful writer despite his age, having been taught that clarity was something to be avoided, like honesty or hard work. With so much to do and so little time, his family would appreciate a note informing them of his dreadful room, appalling treatment, and the general lack of respect he endured on an hourly basis. As their chosen heir and, he knew, the inevitable ruler of all lands, it was the minimum he could do to report his general state of well-being, as he knew they would be frozen with concern after so long a silence.
Vondaar dipped his pen and began to write, mouth curled in a sneer that was far older than the rest of his face.
Mother and Father,
Both nominally true, though his paternal connection was tenuous, based on how many visitors his mother had during her years of beauty. He let the fallacy dry before pushing forward, deciding to confront some issues later, when he was in a loftier position.
The lands of Snow are everything you said they would be, and worse. The people reek of animals, and there is little sun.
All true, if not generous on his part to describe the North’r as people, given their love of the mountains and howling wilds. He suppressed a shudder and freshened his nib.
I have no friends, as you suspected, and only one true ally. As to the rest of this outpost, they seem oddly sanguine about the loss of their entire royal family. It may be that for people of lower blood, such things are expected, and thus the lack of hue and cry over what would be a tragedy for any civilized house.
He had listened for wailing and cries in the halls of Sindelaar, only to hear nothing of the sort after the Thread had gone quiet and news of the wedding tragedy filtered north. In truth, he felt vaguely cheated, having expected to see faces blotchy from tears and the pall of grief. Rather, a stolid resolve spread through the castle like a virus of hope, lending every courtier a quiet nobility that Vondaar took as a personal affront.
As to my personal state, I gro
w tired of fish pie, which these people seem to regard as a national delicacy. How they extract the hideous creatures from the nearby river, I cannot fathom, but they do so with endless brio. Their enthusiasm does not end until each aquatic creature has been cleaned, if somewhat minimally, placed in a pie with thick gravy and desiccated roots, and then punished in an oven until the steaming mess is charred to what they deem golden perfection. Unless snow glare has paralyzed the collective eyesight of this tribe, then we have radically different ideas about what consists of properly cooked food. Even our other ally eats better food, out there in the sand and heat. I wish she were here to see what I endure. I can only hope she grasps our actions, given that we have limited contact with her.
He glared at the fish pie steaming on his desk, a fin sticking upward in jocular disregard for his disgust. He pushed the dish away and inked his quill again with a savagery he could only express on parchment, if at all.
Despite such hardships, I have cultivated a pleasant relationship with a girl who works in the kitchens as their resident expert in curing herbs, though I have my doubts as to her skill given the low breeding of everyone who clings to dear life in this rocky, windswept prison. My needs have been so acute that I’ve had to overlook her repulsive narrow features and blonde hair, but needs must when one is mired among the savages. These people differ from the Silent tribe only in height; they are fair and light of eye to the last person, though at least they tend to be tall. I might go insane were I surrounded by the sunburnt trolls of Silence, with their piggish eyes and short legs, but I can worry on them later after we gain control of their barren lands. I suspect that their former ruler will extract more than just revenge from them, once she takes hold of their reins again.
Returning to my base needs, tell Uncle Elias that I will recollect his words about weakening the bloodline and will not allow the girl to birth my child no matter how honored she would be.
That would be no problem at all, since he thought it highly unlikely that someone of his standing could conceive with a girl who thought dried herbs were a form of medical science. With a dismissive flick of the pen, he ended the letter, tiring of the drab need to report his actions to people who could do precious little to help him through the drudgery of another day in the north. He took some measure of solace knowing that he could rule from the sun swept cities far to the south, leaving the snow and rocks to a governor or some other underling he disliked. As to Silence, he would avoid the grass lands and desert altogether.
He put nib to parchment once more, slowing his anger so the ink would not spatter.
I endure this place in silent acceptance of your wisdom and hope you are tolerably well. If you have contact with the firm, do let me know? I find myself looking up far too often, and here, all I see are stars beyond our reach. For now.
Vondaar, Count Ascendant
He jabbed the pen into its well, satisfied by the rattle. A shadow detached from the wall, lit by a gray smear from the window.
“It is ready?” Tilden’s voice was smooth, his hands unmarked by a history of work, or any history whatsoever. He was smooth all over, like an unfinished statue, but his dark eyes were sharp, tinged with something of the animal that made his smile into a threat. With long fingers, he twitched at a sleeve, ever adjusting his clothes while his eyes roamed about the room with opportunistic hunger.
“It is, friend. Thanks for your endless patience,” Vondaar said, handing over the letter. He didn’t bother sealing it because Tilden regarded such things as an impediment to his true purpose. As an ally and paid confidant of the Marlivay family, he thought privacy was a charming, if archaic construct.
“I am patient because you pay me in coin rather than future considerations,” Tilden said, one brow lifted with meaning.
“And we are thankful.” Coins exchanged, along with smirks. The two were alike in so many ways, save their birth. Had Tilden’s mother not been a traveling performer, he might be signing letters with a royal, imperious flourish, but that path was not meant for him, and he decided to be as close to the throne as possible. Despite the long odds, Tilden considered Vondaar’s rise to be a virtual certainty, having traversed the breadth of Silence to see its disarray firsthand. In the opinion of Tilden, Silence needed a bare minimum of guidance to become a powerful, unified kingdom, given the tribal lack of impulse control. Anyone with a crown could bring the squabbling masses to heel, given the right person at their side.
Tilden was that person, at least in the eyes of the Marlivay family, and that was all that really mattered to him.
“How will this be secured?” Vondaar asked, and his meaning, for once, was clear. He knew that using the same methods for communication could only bring failure, so his question meant it was time to find a new partner in their illicit plans.
“A most agreeable captain, arriving today by cable. He ran into some difficulties with a gambling house just north of Marwai, and, alas, cannot ply the lower third of the river due to a small debt.” Tilden’s moue was almost believable.
“Will we clear up this misunderstanding to secure the loyalty of our new errand boy?”
“Of course not, though we’ll tell him as much. In the meantime, he’ll carry messages to your parents, all the while thinking—”
“His debt is being cleared by each message. Delightful. Tell me when he’s arrested, won’t you? I’ll send a gift to the prison in the event he actually makes it there after the collectors are done with him,” Vondaar said with a treasonous grin.
“You are the portrait of manners. It’s just one of the qualities that will make you a just, welcomed ruler among the savages of Silence,” Tilden said, scraping his way out of the room. Somehow, he made the bow into an insult, but such was his gift.
Vondaar flicked his fingers after the man in dismissal. “Soon enough. Away with you until Feast Day, if they ever celebrate it again.”
Tilden’s voice echoed from the passage with a sibilant joy. “After this wedding, I have my doubts.”
Nolan
West
Two of the moons were down when Nolan and Avina approached their Loop, bags filled with food, spare ammo, and a med kit. Cherry sent the computer system in Owen’s cave a key, and they had a digital handshake that would upload where and when they could tap into the satellites overhead. There were enough birds flying that it was possible to have decent contact, but each new satlink meant a moment of silence as Cherry hacked it for access.
“When you wake her, she’ll need a damned good reason beyond Sunward,” Owen said.
"I have it,” Nolan said.
“You think she’ll be afraid of the Clock People?” Owen asked.
“I think you are, and everyone else, and I’ll think of other reasons on the way. I can smell trouble when it’s around, but I don’t know much about first-gen AI other than the fact that they’re a bit stuffy and prone to caution. We’re going wayyy back in history for this, well beyond anything a casual database might have. The only reason I know anything about it is because the original AI matrix is still used—in one form or another—in simple stuff, like printers and loaders. I, ah, used a lot in my former job.”
“A thief?”
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Nolan admitted. “But as to the People of the Clock, I can’t imagine they’ll scare an AI that’s been watching a world turn into—what? A feudal kingdom, or some kind of medieval Earth analogy?”
“Part of living forever is not getting killed, too. Might want to make sure you shake her gently when you roust her from the bed,” Owen said. “If she’s sleeping.”
“What do you know about her? Beyond her age and current state of slumber?” Avina asked.
“Marie thought there were two different—tribes, you might call them. The sea people on the coast, and then a different group inland and up. The, ah, latter tribe took the higher altitudes around the place we think the AI is stashed.” Owen scratched his chin, then added, “I know she’s. . . sleeping there, but since I
’ve never seen her. . .” He shrugged. “Be careful, you two. I’ve been as close to alone as you can be for a century, but the people out there? They’ve got religion.”
“I’ve seen it up close, but thanks. We’ll be in touch along the way. Keep the kids outta that hungry chimegrass mouth. Might not be a bad idea to put a fence around it just in case,” Nolan said.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Owen patted the Loop as we climbed in. “Luck be with you.”
“And with you,” Nolan said as Avina climbed on behind him. The Loop could hold two people with ease and still go like hell, but that was on the smooth surface of the Starway, where they would be dangerously exposed. Because of that risk, Nolan planned on spending time off road where the landscape allowed it-- but at a slower speed, which was fine with him. He would trade some velocity for safety.
Nolan thumbed the power to life and felt a hum as the Loop systems came online, and with a small wave, they pulled away, Cherry showing the way by giving Nolan night vision in one eye until the star rose and bathed the western mountains in golden light.
Nolan picked their way across the terrain until a dim glow registered, running into the distance east and west. The Starway.
“Ready?” Nolan asked Avina. Her only answer was to tap her sidearm, then she leaned forward and spoke into his ear, raising the little hairs on his neck.
“Ready.” Her voice was just audible over the rolling loop tire they sat inside, and with a slow tilt of the steering paddles, Nolan veered right, onto the Starway and what lay beyond. “It’s beautiful.”
Lost Kingdom: Book 1 in the Lost Kingdom Series Page 15
