by Lindsay Peet
CHAPTER TEN
Didn’t rest much or well that night, as the nighttime ride re-ran through my mind, over and over, images frozen, reversed, slowed or speeded up, and I slipped from sleep to dream to open eyes and back again, conscious and subconscious and unconscious flowing together with nary a ripple or rill. No matter how I sliced and diced it, or what storyline I imposed on the facts, the whole thing still made just as much, or little, sense, and always was a voice bellowing that I was being a hysterical schemer or savvy fool. The more I tossed the more determined I became to be carefree and careful, shrewd and imprudent, because we were surrounded by mortal enemies or overreacting. Thus comforted and fearful I finally rousted myself and got up, refreshed and bleary.
At breakfast it was just the two of us of course, and Wanliet didn’t look like he slept much more than I did. It was a quiet meal, as we both wanted to talk but didn’t dare do it there. The silliness of Lordano or Jedub’s sly shots would have been welcome then. Never thought I’d miss those two, but there we were, tight-lipped and grim. After eating, without wasting words we went over whatever supplies and plans the Inspector General and his adjutant would need for Solip City. Afterwards we gathered together what we could and had Sirah summoned with fresh horses.
Soon enough we three were heading off again. I noticed that Sirah’s mount was carrying baggage, too. “Sirah, I see the pack on your horse. Are they supplemental supplies for the Inspector General in Solip City?”
Sirah looked taken aback. “Mr. Daskal, I took it for granted I was going along. Surely His Excellency can make use of a Caliugan native, and Caliuga City wants very much to be part of this historic meeting between the Empire’s representative and the Planetary Union.”
“But Sirah, you’re the Mayor’s daughter, and you’re not even twenty yet. Does your father know what you’re doing?”
“Mr. Daskal, it’s true I’m the Mayor’s daughter, but I’m also the head of Caliuga City Security. What’s more, I’ve been around politics my whole life, I’ve seen the ways of the P. U., and I may even notice a few things that His Excellency, or his adjutant, don’t pick up on. I’m not quite the babe in the woods you might have taken me for.”
This girl was full of surprises; so we’d been with the head of security last night? And I’d been with the head of security while I thought I was just having simple tumbleromps? Layers upon layers, with likely more down below, I’d never know for certain when my footing was on bedrock. “Sounds like a good plan, Sirah. Glad to have you along,” intoned Wanliet. That shut me up, for awhile at least. Did these revelations make it more likely that she might be ‘working’ me, and might actually count as another enemy if things got tight? Was she in cahoots with Aspe? I’d have to keep that in mind; in any case, my regard for her went up again, and, after the briefest of considerations, I decided this was no reason to cut off the sexual part of our relationship. Indeed, I rationalized that would be a way to keep tabs on Sirah, and also I might trip her up with pillow talk and get her to reveal whatever schemes she might be hatching. Somehow, I had to let Wanliet know all this, without letting Sirah know, because …. You get the idea, by now, don’t you? I sighed as I thought about how incredibly complicated our lives and my plands had become; then I smiled when I thought that likely as not Sirah had the same plans I did, outwitting the PU, but rotated about ninety degrees so Caliuga City would come out on top. From her viewpoint, if my little group survived, or even made out like bandits, she wouldn’t stand in my way. It’s nice when separate plans come together, isn’t it?
Although the day was sunny and sparkling, the trail was still muddy from last night’s torrents. On our horsebacks we were up above the splashing and muck so I didn’t mind much, and I kind of appreciated the sparkling drops in the leaf-ends and grass blades – and, as always, I appreciated Sirah’s backside as she led the way.
Last night’s flash-flooded creek had calmed considerably, and as we plashed across the shallow sandy water my eye was caught by more of those colored balls and sticks in a pool just downstream. Having already investigated such things myself, I asked Sirah about them to save my dignity and to benefit from native knowledge.
“They’re actually two things that look alike. The tree there is the conezia tree, and it forms those colored nodules on its roots. The nodules contain nitrogen and some other minerals, which turn the nodules colors. When a riverbank washes away, the nodules are exposed; otherwise you wouldn’t even see them unless you dug up the roots of a tree. When the settlers landed they figured out after awhile that, where the trees were, there you’d find rich soil, so many of them have been cleared out as we planted crops where they had been. Now we’re working with some of the other colonies, trying to breed faster-growing and smaller versions of them, as they help replenish the soil.
“But some of the balls are eggs. The revebas make pools by damming up the streams, and as the pools expand the revebas work at exposing the conezia roots underwater, making shelves with tangled roots. We warn the children about them when they go swimming; if you get swept into one of those during a flash flood you won’t get out for weeks.
Anyway, once the revebas have done that they use the root-crown as a nest, laying their eggs among the nodules. It’s hard to tell the two apart, and since the nodules taste bitter, the eggs are protected by camouflage.”
“Are the revebas dangerous” I asked, wondering how fortunate I’d been to escape what seemed like months earlier, but was in fact only a few days ago.
Sirah laughed. “Oh no, they don’t even have teeth. Claws, yes, big ones for digging, but no teeth. You see, the nodules add nutrients to the water, too, and those feed algae in the pools. The revebas filter the water through a bony strainer they have in their mouths, and they breathe through blowholes in their backs.
“They move slowly, kind of a waddling motion, when they’re on land, which isn’t often. Pretty much they float around and eat, and poop, and their poop helps feed the algae and the conezias, also. “
“Do they have predators?” Wanliet asked.
“Your Excellency, their greatest threat you saw last night, the flash flood. It destroys ponds and washes the revebas downstream, sometimes injuring them and leaving them stranded, and then they don’t last long.”
“High and dry and they die by and by” murmured Wanliet.
Sirah nodded judiciously, and said “Yes, you might say that, Your Excellency.
“Also, something has been happening to the clusters of eggs and nodules lately. In some areas they’re disappearing, and nobody can figure out what’s going on. We’re worried about who’s doing it, why, or if this is natural, which changes to worry about and which not.”
“You never do completely understand how everything goes together. There are always surprises, no matter how smart you think you are, how much you know, how many angles you figure, there’s always a hole card, a joker in Nature’s hand” reflected Wanliet aloud. I remained silent, and Sirah didn’t answer either, maybe thinking that the Inspector General’s remarks applied to our situation, too.
The rest of the ride to the ranch was quiet. We all had thinking to do.
