Frank and Emma Townsend stood on the veranda watching the last army truck draw away. The driver gave them a toot and they waved back. Glenn and Avril had caught a ride with Glad that morning, planning to spend the day in Rata. Now all that was left after the excitement of the last week were a handful tyre tracks and a large yellowish rectangle on the lawn where the army tent had starved the grass of sunlight.
‘I keep thinking about the children,’ Em said. ‘I still can’t believe all that happened here. To us, or them.’
‘Me neither,’ Frank said.
‘D’you really think they’ll be back, like they said in their notes?’
‘I hope so.’ He hadn't told anyone about what Glad had said.
‘I miss them, Frank.’
He put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘Me too, love.’ After a pause, he added, ‘I let Glenn and Avril have that ball bearing thing they shot at us, it only seemed right, but I’m going to leave that hole in the shed roof. It’s like a reminder that it really happened, you know?’
‘You’re a sentimental fool sometimes,’ Em smiled.
Smudge skittered past chasing a white butterfly, leaping and taking swipes at it in mid-air.
Frank laughed. ‘Honestly, I swear that cat’s having a second kittenhood.’
They watched her for a while, then Em turned her face to the sky, ‘I wonder where they are right now. What they’re up to.’
‘All sorts of mischief if I know that lot,’ Frank said. ‘And good on ‘em.’
* * *
‘You see the date?’ Ludokrus said to his sister as they waited for a maglev on the platform of Concordance Station. ‘Especially the moon date.’
Alkemy checked her own comms cal. ‘Oh, yes!’
‘Maybe we should stop on the way to Baylev?’
‘Not maybe, definite! Better even than the fun park.’
‘What? What?’ the others demanded, but Ludokrus replied with a secret smile, telling them they’d have to wait and see.
The maglev’s first stop was Kestel, a small seaside town southeast of Theia that overlooked Buckle Gap. The hundred-kilometre trip took a little over twenty minutes – barely enough time to get settled into the sleek, high-speed train, and both Tim and Norman watched it accelerate away from the station a little disappointed they couldn’t explore it further. It was the closest thing to flying at ground level they’d ever experienced.
The platform was ultra-modern – polished concrete, glass and chrome, like all stations on the maglev network – but the first hint that Kestel was different came when they stepped into the ticketing hall. The ancient stone floor was worn smooth by the passage of thousands of feet, and the roughly plastered, neatly whitewashed walls sprouted window boxes of brightly coloured flowers instead of arrival and departure signs. There were no ticketing machines, no vending machines, no malls or shopping arcades, just a line of old-fashioned ticket windows manned by cheerful people dressed in peasant costumes.
Outside, a long avenue of higgledy-piggledy houses led away from the station. There were palm trees in a grassy quadrangle out front, but no bots or wheeled vehicles in sight.
‘How far is it? Do we need a electrobikes or something?’
‘No bike. We are in Kestel now. No machines allowed.’ Ludokrus pointed to a line of silkas tethered to one end of the building. ‘But there is cab.’
‘Oh my god, house ponies!’ Coral exclaimed. ‘How cute! You mean they carry our stuff?’
‘Better. Us also. We ride, and the babies carry our bag.’
‘The amount of stuff Coral’s got, she’ll kill hers,’ Norman said.
‘I just came prepared.’
‘Yeah, but we’re away for a few days, not a few years.’
These silkas were bigger and sturdier than the ones they’d seen in Theia, but they had the same mottled coats and long, intelligent faces. The youngsters were more solid too, but not sturdy enough for Coral’s luggage. She needed a second full-grown silka for that.
Navigation was by fruit, which was also how you paid for them.
‘They are trained to go to different areas for different fruit,’ Ludokrus said, pointing to a map highlighted in different colours. ‘If you give them a love melon, they will go there. Palopalo, they go there. We need to go here,’ he pointed to a blue-shaded area, ‘so must give them chisols.’
He bought six bags from the elderly man who tended the silkas, handed one to each of the others and two to Coral.
‘Is not far, so there are only three in each bag. You give one to start, one in middle – they will stop and ask – and one at end when we arrive.’
Norman took out one of the fuzzy-skinned fruits and sniffed it. It was grey, about the size of a tennis ball and smelled of raspberries. ‘Mmm,’ he said.
‘They’re for the animals,’ Coral told him. ‘The intelligent-looking, four-legged ones.’
As the others fed their mounts, Norman stroked the neck of the one carrying Coral’s bags. ‘You know, this could be your last meal, mate.’
‘Oh, shut up!’
They headed off in a wagon train, clomping through the cobbled streets, the younger animals carrying the bags plodding patiently behind their mothers. The two Coral hired also had young, but they were unburdened and bounded on ahead, racing backwards and forwards like eager puppies, covering the same distance twice.
There didn’t seem to be a straight road in Kestel. The whole place was a maze of narrow, winding, interconnected streets filled on either side with pleasant whitewashed buildings.
The silkas reached a square built around a water trough and paused, looking back at their riders.
‘Halfway point,’ Ludokrus called.
They took out another chisol each and held them out. The silkas took them, chewing slowly and savouring the treats before heading off again at a sedate pace.
‘This is so cute.’ Coral held out a hand to Ludokrus. ‘They’re gorgeous. I love it!’
‘I guess you will like.’ He squeezed her hand and grinned back.
‘Oh-oh, we’ve lost the pack mule!’ Norman jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
‘What ...?’
‘Ha ha, made you look.’
‘Can we arrange for him to fall off a cliff or something?’ Coral asked Ludokrus.
‘Yeah, easy. Believe me, here that will be no problem.’
The silkas carried them up a cobbled lane to a turning circle at the top, stopped and looked back at their riders.
‘Is this it?’
‘Right there.’ Ludokrus pointed to a small, whitewashed house with a heavy wooden door, indistinguishable from the others. ‘Belong to our great-great-grandfather. Now used only for the holiday.’
They dismounted, gathered their bags and fed the silkas the last of the chisols, then watched as the shaggy animals plodded away downhill, heading back to the station.
Coral sighed as she watched them go. ‘I want to take one of them home with me when we go.’
‘Me too,’ Norman said with a grin. ‘In a meat pack.’
Coral snorted in disgust.
The house was tiny, just four rooms, all whitewashed stone like the outside, but there was a broad balcony at the back with a spectacular view out over the ocean. Tena had set and Tetzul was just a finger-width above the horizon, its yellow-orange glow reflected in the sea.
‘Oh man, look at that view!’ Tim stepped out onto the balcony and peered down. All around the bay he could see hundreds of whitewashed houses perched atop a series of red stone cliffs. The view reminded him of the snowy cap on a mountain range.
Coral moved cautiously to the railing, looked, gasped and took three steps back.
‘You do not like?’ Ludokrus said. ‘But you are OK in the pyramid.’
‘That’s different. The balconies there are terraced. There’s no sheer drop. Not like that anyway.
‘It’s sheer all right,’ Norman leaned out over the edge. ‘This balcony’s actually built out from the side of the cliff.’
‘Is he joking?’
‘Most are like this,’ Ludokrus said.
‘Oh god.’ Coral took another step back to the doorway. ‘I’ll just admire the view from here, thanks.’
Despite its primitive appearance, the old house concealed a number of modern appliances. There was a food fabricator and a drinks dispenser behind a stone slab in the kitchen, a slide-out panel revealed a wallscreen and entertainment centre in the lounge, while another series of slides, drawers and lift-outs turned the space into a spare bedroom.
‘That is almost as spectacular as the view.’ Norman pointed to the large food fab. ‘I hope there’s plenty of raw materials or we might have to cripple a couple of silkas bringing more up here. Anyone for cheese and chutney pav?’
Sunsets lasted a long time on Eltheria. Even after Tetzul had set, Halo continued reflecting its dying light. They sat on the balcony eating dessert – spatz sundaes, not pavlova – and watching as the amber coloured band of light faded, leaving the ring a cool milky white lit by reflected moonlight alone.
‘I keep looking for the Southern Cross,’ Coral said, peering up at the stars.
‘There.’ Ludokrus pointed. ‘Same stars, but from here look more squashed together. More like the Southern Box.
‘Funny to think how your star patterns are all different from ours, even though we’re looking at almost the same thing.’
‘I saw a sign at the station that said Kestel’s a historical reserve,’ Tim said.
‘Can you imagine her with bots and bubbletruck highways? Would be spoil. Many years ago the local peoples vote to keep her as she is. Like she has been for many hundred years. Now, the main business is with the tourist.’
‘What did your great-great-granddad do?’
‘He was a fisherman.’
Norman peered at the lights bobbing in the harbour far below. ‘So why live up here? I can see there isn’t much flat land down below, but there are no houses either. Surely they could’ve built the town a bit closer to the sea.’
Alkemy glanced at Ludokrus and smiled. ‘Tomorrow you will see why.’
‘Better,’ Ludokrus added. ‘You will know.’