They watched as Jake maneuvered his way out of the firelight, struggling with his belt.
Audy looked between him and Carlos, shaking his head. “The next time one of your people points out how strange we Jema are, I will laugh in your face.”
*
Chapter 5
Kaerin Prelate Lord Noka S’kaeda hated flying. It wasn’t the submission to fate that it required, nor was it the reliance on the skill of the pilot that bothered him. In that respect, flying was no different than trusting a ship’s captain to have mastered the tides, the shoals, and winds that he or she had to know. What bothered him was the almost sure death that would result if anything were to go wrong. One could swim to shore, survive in a small boat, or make it to another ship if the worst happened on the water.
In the air, the droning of the four engines of the massive aircraft in his ears, he tried not to calculate what his odds of survival would be, should something, anything, go wrong. It wouldn’t have to be an accident. He had enemies both on the council and outside it. As the Kaerin prelate, how could he not have enemies? One was measured by the quality of those who challenged. In that respect, he seemed to be blessed.
He had shared the news of the Strema defeat at the hands of Shareki with his fellow council members. Each was a powerful Kaerin lord in his own right. Some would have cause to use that defeat against him, to push their own position or perhaps even their candidacy for his post. He understood them; he would do the same in their place. The machinations of other lords seeking to advance their name or position did not worry him. These new Shareki, he had to admit to himself, did. Not just their weapons and tactics; those they could adapt to. What worried him the most was these strange people’s ability to somehow bend the cursed Jema clan to their will.
How they’d accomplished it worried him far more than the advanced flying craft the Strema survivors had described. The Kaerin way was to attack, always. To do otherwise risked demonstrating a lack of confidence in their superiority. On Chandra, through the centuries since their accidental marooning here, to think or act otherwise would have shown a weakness that the indigenous clans of Chandra might have exploited. Perhaps not in the early years, when his ancestors had access to the full extent of the Kaerin equipment and the overwhelming power it represented. Those days were long past. For centuries, they had maintained the status quo of unchallenged power through their confidence in their superiority and a willingness to cull any clan that challenged that natural order.
One only had to look as far back as the Jema for an example of that policy. That strategy had been the result of the situation his ancestors had found themselves in. Abandoned here, with no support. Against an entire world, they’d had no choice but to use every advantage they had. Their control had to be absolute and complete—they were outnumbered and always would be. He knew the truth of it; Kaerin security existed in the minds of those they had conquered.
Calls to muster the subject clans and call out the Kaerin High Blood fists for an immediate invasion of the Shareki world had been numerous around the council table. He’d used every measure of his personal influence to counsel otherwise. In the end, they had no idea of what awaited them there, and the Shareki had shown a discomforting ability to defend what was, for the moment, theirs.
He’d convinced them that they needed to be able to demonstrate their own ability to do that in the face of this new enemy before going on the offensive. He’d guided the debate for three weeks, and the late autumn season of the gates had come and gone. He had perhaps four months before the argument would begin again. Four months, perhaps five, to find an answer to the worry that haunted him.
The pitch the airboat’s engines altered and he glanced out the window at his knees. He could just make out the sand-colored coastline of Landing. The small desert island, a pile of volcanic rock sitting in the Middle Sea where his ancestors had unexpectantly found themselves all those years ago. Off-limits to all but the Kaerin Gemendi who administered the island, Landing was now a shrine. A museum whose pieces were no longer understood by the owners. It was the home of their greatest secrets, and if the Universe held any balance to it, perhaps their salvation.
“Welcome to Landing, Lord S’kaeda.”
Prelate of the Gemendi Order, Sephra Sistek bowed deeply to him as he made his way down the steps from his aircraft. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Sephra was here to greet him, rather than chasing his young boy slaves on his estate in Tay’ang in the far east. The reason behind his own trip to Landing was a direct threat to Lord Sephra’s power and Gemendi independence. Noka knew he was not alone in his belief the Gemendi had become overly protective of their bureaucratic power.
Curbing that power had been a long-term goal of his. That said, he had not imagined he would have to address the issue so soon, and certainly not in so forthright a manner. It would have been easier to wait for Lord Sephra to die, and then utilize his authority to influence the naming of a replacement. These strange Shareki and their Jema allies had forced his hand.
Lord Sephra’s presence before him meant that the leader of the Kaerin Gemendi must have left for Landing soon after learning he’d utilized his own authority as prelate to have Tima Bre’jana named the new lord of Landing. If anyone could decipher the secrets of this place, it was Tima; not this aging bureaucrat or any one of the sycophants he would have appointed.
He took delight from the sheen of sweat glistening on Sephra’s round, full face that held a hint of almond-shaped eyes, dark irises, and dark hair; evidence that the Sistek line was no longer pure in its Kaerin heritage. For his part, he could not have cared less if one of Sephra’s ancestors had produced offspring with some Tay’ang village girl. There was not a Kaerin house on Chandra that didn’t possess some indigenous blood, his own included. He was perhaps less conventional in his thinking than many of his peers, but he did not believe Kaerin blood was any different from that of the subject races.
No, the difference between master and subject was far more profound than any product or mistake of nature. It was the will to do what they must, and the strength to carry that will to its fruition. It was Kaerin culture that prized will and strength above all else. A Kaerin was superior to those they ruled, in all things. He saw none of that in Lord Sephra Sistek.
Nothing about Sephra engendered respect from those who should fear him. It was no doubt why a man like him had chosen the Gemendi Order; administering the army of Kaerin and subject clan technicians who were responsible for ensuring the Kaerin retained the tools to crush any subject clan who dared challenge them. Over the centuries, the Gemendi had come into a power of their own. They controlled the far-speaking sets that allowed them to administer an entire world. They kept the Kaerin war machine fueled and armed. More important, they trained the subject race Gemendi cadre present in each of the subject clans, to monitor any development, technological or otherwise, that could come to challenge Kaerin supremacy.
Over time, the Gemendi’s unique mission had given rise to a political caste within Kaerin culture. What had started as an administrative tool was now a power unto itself. That was something he was going to change. The leader of the Gemendi order was here in front of him, and he was nothing if not decisive. At that moment, in mid step, just before his foot touched the ground, he determined that the repurposing of the Gemendi would begin here and now.
Noka regarded Lord Sephra Sistek and bowed his head slightly in return, no more than protocol required, perhaps not even that. He spent a moment pondering whether it was the hours stuck inside the airboat or the worry of Shareki that so vexed him, but in the end, he realized he didn’t care. He was in no mood to pretend that he was anything other than irritated at the man’s unsolicited presence.
“Lord Sistek.” He managed a friendly smile. “What brings you so far from your estates?”
“I, too, wished to congratulate Tima Bre’jana on his appointment to such a prestigious position, perhaps our most critical, our sole link to the Kaerin wonders of th
e past.” Sistek, he noticed, didn’t so much as turn his head to acknowledge the subject of the conversation standing behind him.
“I’m pleased that his appointment has met with your approval.” He glanced past Sistek as he spoke, and nodded to the newly elevated Lord Tima, who stood every inch a Kaerin warrior, a respectful step behind the leader of his order.
“I’ve known Lord Tima . . .” He paused the barest of moments, relishing the indignation sparking in Sephra’s eyes at the use of the honorific in conjunction with the young man - “since his birth. And followed his career closely.”
“As have I, Lord Noka,” Sephra acknowledged. “His mastery of our tools and knowledge of the natural orders of the material world is well-known.”
“I’m pleased I was not misinformed as to his talent.” He glanced at Tima, who was bearing up under their attention remarkably well. To his credit, Tima Bre’jana may have chosen the Gemendi Order, but the choice had been one in keeping with his inclination as a scholar. Tima was Kaerin through and through. As a younger man, Tima had served as an officer in the Kaerin host. Tima had led other High Bloods in battle before assuming his chosen vocation as a scholar. He was everything that Lord Sistek was not.
“I wished to greet you on arrival, Lord.” Sistek bowed again. “Perhaps we could speak in private? After you have refreshed from your journey?”
“I’ve been sitting for the last three hours. Let us speak now.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed his quad of honor guards.
“Would you care to join me in my pavilion?” Lord Sistek recovered from his surprise.
“Let us walk.” If you are able to stand this heat; he smiled inwardly. He thought he saw the glimmer of laughter behind Tima’s eyes, but the young man had the good sense to hide it well. “My legs could use a stretch.”
Lord Sistek turned to Tima and nodded his own dismissal.
“Stay with us, Lord Tima,” he countermanded, enjoying the look of shock on the Gemendi prelate’s face.
“My Lord,” Tima intoned.
He waited a short moment before guiding the corpulent bureaucrat out from under the shade cast by the frame of his airboat. The full force of the Middle Sea sun brought forth a sigh from Lord Sephra that sounded like a low moan. He watched as the man seemed to wilt as he patted his forehead with a square of silk. A shared look of disdain with Tima, who followed a step behind, almost brought a smile to his lips.
“Lord Sistek,” he began, struggling for a pleasant tone. “I am aware my usurpation of the powers of appointment within your own order has, at a minimum, caused you some concern.”
He waited a moment for the man to acknowledge a truth he couldn’t deny.
“It is unusual, Lord.”
“We live in unusual times, and there is precedent, as you well know. I will also add that I don’t concern myself with propriety, tradition, or precedent when the well-being of the Kaerin are concerned. Do you challenge the fact that my position as prelate grants me that authority?”
“No, my Lord. Of course not.”
“Good.” He nodded and smiled warmly. “Which means anything else you may have to say regarding Tima Bre’jana’s appointment as lord of Holding would fall into the area of a complaint.”
Sistek glanced up at the sun and immediately nodded to himself, as if to say to himself he was not insane or a fool.
“Lord, I have no complaints.”
“I had not imagined you would.”
He pulled himself to a stop on the packed earth runway, the heat from the crushed gravel reflecting and radiating heat back at them as they were being cooked from above. He took his time and looked at both of them. An old man worried about his waning authority; a young man hungry for results.
“Lord Tima, I will continue my planned discussions with you this evening. I do wish to have a private word with the lord of your order.”
“Certainly, Lord Noka.” Tima smartly came to attention and offered him the High Blood salute of a warrior; right fist to his heart. By tradition, it was a gesture Lord Sistek, who had never served as a warrior, was incapable of making. Perhaps that was why he distrusted this man and so many of the Gemendi Order. Men who sought influence and power via their control of things and processes rather than the sheer expression of power earned.
“He’s a capable young man,” Sephra Sistek spoke after a moment.
“But you would have selected another; I realize that.” He turned fully to face a man who in his most gracious of moments he would never have considered to possess a modicum of integrity.
“I will speak freely if you promise to do the same, Lord Sistek. On my personal honor.” He reached up and pulled the heavy chain holding the medallion of his office over his head. The simple piece of iron seemed to weigh much less in his hand than it did resting against his chest.
“Nothing you say to me will go further than this conversation, and I will not hold your words against you, as long as they are honest.”
Sistek paused, as if unsure whether to trust the leave to speak freely that he had been granted. “Many others have far more seniority than Lord Tima. I will have difficulty explaining this to my own council.”
“That is your concern, not mine.” He shrugged. “You would do well to explain to them that I have my reasons, and they are significant.”
“Reasons you are not ready to share?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But you can be assured that his and his family’s friendship with my own played no part in the appointment. That said, Lord Tima and his circle are to be given every assistance and resource they request, or I will act.”
He paused, letting the opaque nature of that word resonate.
“I wish to be very clear on this point, Lord Sistek. If I hear of any resistance within your order to his work, his methods, or his research, I will take it as an affront to my personal honor. I’ll lift this medallion off my neck and raze your estate and that of any others involved.”
Sephra showed more flexibility in his bow than he thought a man of such girth could possess. “I will make certain he is supported.”
The blade shown, he applied some salve to the man’s ego. “I know you as a solid administrator of the Gemendi, Lord Sistek. It is a skill that will be needed in the future as it has been in the past. You have my confidence and will continue to have my support in that role. I ask only that you do not give me cause to reconsider.”
“You will not have cause, Lord.”
“Good. If I can be of any assistance, personally, in your dealings with other senior members of your own council regarding this issue or any other . . . I would be offended if you did not ask for my assistance.”
Just like that, he saw the glimmer of opportunity spark behind the man’s eyes. He had no doubt that he’d receive a name or two of challengers to Sephra’s power. Names that his people would have to deal with. Such was their way; in the end, nothing else mattered beyond the will and the strength to do what was required.
“I’m truly honored, Lord Noka.”
He nodded once and paused before slipping the heavy chain about his neck. “You’ve let yourself go, Sephra. A Kaerin should take more care. You look like you are about to wilt.”
“I will take more care, Lord.”
He let the chain drop back around his neck. “I’ll hold you to that, as well, Lord Sistek.”
*
The Kaerin estate house of Landing sat on a stony, sun-bleached cliff overlooking the deep blue of the Middle Sea that surrounded the island. Fewer than thirty kamarks separated one shore from another at its widest point. The entire island had been held as a shrine of sorts, to all the knowledge that the Kaerin had lost over the centuries of the exile. Marooned, without word or support from Kaerus proper, it had been from this small island that the subjugation of Chandra had begun. It was where the surviving remnants of their home world’s power and technology had sat unused for those same centuries.
Tima knew his ancestors had conquered all the lands
bordering the Middle Sea within a generation of their ill-fated arrival. Within another, with the aid of subjugated clans, they had control of the two continents bordering the sea to the north and south, and had founded a new capital city, Kaerus, far to the north, surrounded by mountains and soil from which things could actually grow. That had happened nearly nine hundred years ago. In the time since, Landing had gone from the seat of their power to a seldom thought-of place of pilgrimage and remembrance.
To Lord Tima, it was far more. The island of Landing held not just the wondrous tools his ancestors had taken for granted, sitting in rows, collecting dust which this place seemed to produce in prodigious quantity; it held the opportunity to learn. It was a place of knowledge, where he and his people could perhaps begin to learn and regain all that had been lost. Perhaps then, he thought, we can finally deliver ourselves from the reliance on subjugated peoples.
He walked out onto the stone balcony and looked down at the primary harbor serving the island. Sail-driven boats dotted the seascape, bringing supplies from the mainland. In the distance, a large steamer stood out, billowing a dark trail of smoke that marked its passage. He could just make out the large paddle wheels that dominated the middle of its hull. He knew it was a troop ship, piloted by a Kaerin Gemendi like himself. It would be carrying warriors of one subject clan to go and fight another. In such a way, control was maintained, and populations were managed. That was the heart of the problem as he saw it. The entire Kaerin existence and culture had evolved around the maintenance of control. The Kaerin were not evolving.
“Lord Tima?”
The dark, olive-skinned servant had the look of the Morot clan that lived on the southern shore of the Middle Sea. They’d been among the first people subjugated on this world. Landing was unique among Kaerin holdings in that the subjects who served the Gemendi order here, were never allowed to leave. Whole generations of these servants had been born on the island, lived, and died here in service to the Gemendi. As a result, they were the best educated, most knowledgeable of all the subject people. They lived their lives in service to the Gemendi Order and were allowed no contact with anyone beyond the shores.
New Shores: The Eden Chronicles - Book Three Page 6
