MT. AMURA, THE CAVERNS
FIFTEENDAY, VESPERS
Smoke, smoke everywhere, rising to the ceiling, and a riot of noise. Teloa carefully picked her way across the cavern floor, avoiding milling adults and racing children. She had lost the dog, Zair, in the crowd. Praise the powers that food was now distributed by tribes—today was calm compared to just after the bombing. Spotting the Atare firepit, she shifted the cooking pot she clutched in her arms and started in that direction.
A blow behind her knees caused her to stumble, dropping the metal pot with a crash. As Tay turned to see what had happened, a blur of child whisked by, snatching the kettle.
Teloa’s arm snaked out, seizing the thief’s ankle. “Hold it right there! What do you think you’re doing? That pot belongs to my firegroup!” she exclaimed indignantly, standing once again. “And that knee trick hurts!” Downcast, the boy did not struggle, and his mother descended upon them, grabbing her son and beginning to apologize.
Suddenly the woman and boy were shoved aside, and a huge form seized Teloa’s arm in a bruising grip. Flinching, she pulled back, and the man dealt her a stunning blow to the side of the head. “Bitch! What do you mean, taking food from my son’s mouth? You do not belong here; you are off-world, entiss, unwanted,“ the man began to scream, shaking her vigorously as he did so.
Teloa was seeing sparks. She was vaguely aware of the crowd pushing near—some attempting to help her, others trying to aid him. “We will waste no food on murdering Axis warriors, and I shall remove one problem—“ and then the scream was of pain as Zair slashed into her attacker.
Two men jumped the hysterical Nualan, and Braan was there, a death grip on the man’s wrist, forcing him to release Tay’s arm. A healer stepped up with a sedative, assisting the citizens in removing the crazed man. Kalith and Kavan restrained Zair and recaptured the tiny akemmi, depositing it in Tay’s hood. Teloa sank to her knees during the spectacle, not fully cognizant of Braan’s arm encircling her waist and hauling her up, guiding her to the Atare family firepit. She was in a dream state, huddled in a crevice, hot saffra being forced down her throat. Among a thousand words and encouragements from Atare relatives both distant and throneline, Braan’s calm, solitary comment stood out. “I asked you to stay with me.”
The only other thing Teloa remembered from the meal was watching Braan and his son Dylan. Other family members would seek their ruler’s attention, but thirdmeal was clearly Dylan’s time. This night there was an edge of excitement to the boy’s voice as he related the day’s activities, and Teloa heard several whispers indicating the family’s pleasure that the boy was snapping out of his depression. She knew he had not forgiven himself for Asiai’s disappearance. Tay sank into forgetfulness, her last view of Dylan’s shining face.
She awoke with the dying rays of Kee reflecting off her knees. Sitting up, she found Dylan was next to her, hovering near the akemmi. Smiling faintly at him, Tay rearranged herself and offered an arm to the animal. The creature scampered up her sleeve and perched on her shoulder. Dylan pulled out a few nuts and offered one to the beast. Chirping in delight, the creature warily took one from him.
“You are a charmer,” Tay murmured, testing the lump behind her ear with her fingers.
“I wish one would stay with me,” Dylan sighed. “I have been trying to get her to take that nut since you fell asleep. Do you feel better?”
“Just tired. I will sleep well.”
Dylan looked uncomfortable. “The man lost much family—he has been crazed in his grief for days on end. His wife wishes to speak with you tomorrow, when you feel better. She is very embarrassed.”
“No permanent harm, I hope. Of course.”
The boy nodded, looking pleased with his arrangements. Zair lay beside him; he gave the dog a hug and firmly pushed the beast down when it tried to follow. “Stay with Teloa.”
“Tay,” she prompted.
He nodded, smiling. “I have to go to bed. I will see you later.”
As he started to leave, Tay said, “Dylan, don’t worry about Asiai. The ships achieved orbit, and the Nualans off-world will find her and take care of her. Believe it.” He just stared sadly at her, and then walked off.
“Poor child, his childhood is over,” she said aloud. Shivering at the thought of thirdmeal, she was glad that she had logically traced it out. The man was not angry at her—only at what he believed she represented. It was some consolation, if brief.
The voices in the cavern had grown louder. Almost everyone was gone, hidden from sight beyond the deep recesses of the garedoc, the great cavern, and preparing for sleep. Only the Atare family gathered near, talking quietly among themselves. Arrez was also there, and the surviving synod elders were trickling in. Braan stood alone by the pit, his face and chain of office dazzling in the light, his dark clothes muted against the walls. He did not look quite as grim as he had earlier, she thought; sharing the meal with Dylan had calmed him. Tay had been horribly afraid the boy would remind him so keenly of Enid and of his missing daughter Asiai that he could not tolerate the child’s presence. But Braan was making a great effort, and each day seemed easier. She stood, pulling her recorder from under her poncho, and moved to the fire coals. She suspected that Braan merely had given her something to do, but she was thankful for it. It would help her concentrate on the foreign language.
“Brethren, cease thy speech!” It was an older woman who spoke, her poncho design marking her an Atare, not a synod elder. “We have been called for consultation and decision. Let us hear our Atare.”
“We have been called,” came the almost unison answer, confirming Tay’s suspicion that the formal words were ceremonial.
Braan stepped back into the fire’s glare, fully visible to the whole assembly. Teloa saw that there were more present than she had expected; the house of Atare must have been great, to lose so many and yet be so represented. The Atare paused, as if measuring his words.
Then he began to speak. He was not gentle; his tone told Teloa that much. From what she could understand, Braan was saying that they would begin to build within the mountain immediately and would abandon Amura for the duration of the battle emergency. Low speech broke out among the gathering, especially at the words a siege of generations.
Ronüviel rose to address the gathering. “The Atare alludes to the last time a maximum offense against the Axis occurred, in the Helix quadrant. It took the Axis sixty-three terrayear to regain its lost colonies. I, for one, do not intend to spend that time living out of a sack, and Amura will be uninhabitable for several years, unless we desire a massive water purification system. We have been tapping the stellar communications scans. We are now deep in Fewha territory.” No one chose to comment on this statement.
“Ragäree?”
“Speak, friend.”
Jaacav rose from her seat on the rocks. Her speech was much swifter than Roe’s, and Teloa knew that the tape dots would take a long time to translate. The thrust of the warrior’s words concerned their time buffer. The Fewha’s spearhead into the outer line had been so great, it might take them as long as twoyear to return to the Nualan System. It was necessary to use that time to guard against invasion by pirates or “a zealous Axis force, demanding we explain our overelaborate defense system”.
Teloa found herself sorting out the Nualan words of Jaac’s comments; those words hinting around the Axis response. She glanced over at Roe—the Ragäree also looked thoughtful. How was the Nualan defense being interpreted?
“Our main priority is food,” Braan continued, regaining leadership of the discussion. “Growing it, storing it, distributing it. We shall not be hungry this winter. That does not mean we can feast, nor does it imply that next year is guaranteed. We must return to the soil and traditional planting methods. Lars sends word that while not impossible, things shall be very difficult for a time.”
“A comment.” It was Jaac once again.
“Speak.”
“For some time the Nualan defense has been attempting to develop a planet-wide shield which could destroy a lesser attack and continue to defuse a luna barrage. As a matter of record, you will find south of Amura numerous growing fields unmarked by bomb craters. These areas were protected by the new test shield, totally forgotten by everyone during the excitement of the devastation.
“The new shield has its faults—it cannot stop incoming ships, whether they are constructed like Nualan vessels or are general carriers. But it will severely damage even a captured Nualan transport. As always, the radiation will protect us from any other intruders. It has the advantage of being geographically controlled. We can deactivate one beam to allow allies to land, yet continue the protection of the planet as a whole. An active scansearch will be maintained to warn us of the smallest ship’s entry into our upper atmosphere. We hope to construct enough power stations to implement this planetwide by the thaw.”
Teloa felt rather than heard the buzz that answered this; the words were too swift for her to catch. Jaac evidently was finished; she settled herself as if she did not intend to rise again. Braan now spoke, assuring the elders that warriors were monitoring the emotions of their people and that the guaard was being replenished by its standby legion.
The last note was directed to an elderly man who had an air of importance. It meant nothing to Tay but apparently answered an earlier question. The elder seemed satisfied in an impersonal way. Tay caught herself picking out guaard, all standing near throneline Atares.
Ronüviel stood up and moved to Braan’s side, and the audience immediately gave her their full attention, the undercurrent of whispers concerned with her supposed pregnancy. Their relief and pleasure over her condition was evident.
She is not only Atare, she is Nuala, Tay thought. And they would not want it any other way. She did not fail to notice that Roe did not have to ask for the chair’s recognition to speak.
“I am sure many of you can see where these plans are leading, this threefold concern over our defense, our food and a roof over our heads,” Roe started to sum up. “We strive for self-sufficiency, total planet autonomy.” Before the crowd could react she went on. “Before the starships reached for space, all planets were self-sufficient. We can be again. Anything this planet cannot provide us with, we can and shall do without. We do this ...” She had to raise her voice; many individuals were clearly worried by her inference: “We do this to prepare ourselves for the long siege, to prevent a total collapse of our economy and to give us an excellent bargaining position for reentering the Axis Republican Council. The Axis ignored our mutual treaty obligations and, as well as we can determine, seeks to place the blame on Nuala. Returning to the status quo will be as painful as the next twoyear promises to be.”
As the silence dissolved into an undercurrent of words, the new head of the synod, Justinian, stood up.
Braan held up his hands asking for silence. “Our next order of business is more disturbing. I have shown Justinian all of the taped information Ronüviel and I brought back from Tolis, aided by supporting tracts from Amura’s transaction computer. He will now relate his conclusions, and the voice of his sub-committee.”
Justinian stepped forward. Tay studied the elderly man with interest. It was he who had been concerned about the number of the guaard, the Atare family’s private bodyguard service, as Tay understood it. Justinian and his wife, Url, easily in their eighties, were among the most influential of the synod elders. They were also the most neutral, despite their high placement in the Dielaan house.
The Caprican woman appreciated Braan’s shrewdness. Although the majority of the synod supported him without hesitation, there were still enemies. Enemies of the house of Atare; personal enemies of Braan’s. Anything Braan said to the assembly might be twisted by them. But Justinian was truly independent, as likely to support the throne as to attack it, and was half of the only unbiased pair present. He was the perfect choice to explain about Tolis—and Corymb.
Though his voice was soft, Justinian showed he was still a masterful speaker and debater. He spoke in detail concerning what the computer had shown and had aides hold up charts explaining how close they had come to absorption by their off-world investors. He indirectly praised Braan’s nationalization of the mines and industries and the sending of an interstellar decree to that effect. The old Nualan skillfully reiterated the information about the assassin and then added the scene with the messenger, indicating Corymb was quite alive and biding his time over his return. Tay let the recorder run; this was too important to risk missing a key concept by abridging as she copied.
Finally Justinian turned and gestured to Arrez, who stood and told the startling news of the presence of Cied in Amura, and of what appeared to be Baakche, the Dragoche himself, in conference with Corymb.
Silence hung in the cavern for a long time after Arrez finished. Even those Corymb supporters who had managed to explain away everything else had trouble with the last charge. The tribes had no use for the cities—this had been the case from before recorded interaction.
The tribes knew of Braan—but not Braan Atare. The difference was important. The Ciedärlien did not acknowledge the rule of Amura, and the point had not been pressed in a millennium. What did they want? Or what did Corymb promise them? And most importantly, how did he intend to deliver?
Braan finally stood up. “I did not request this presentation to set us at each other’s throats or to plant doubts in our minds about each other’s loyalty. The fact is, there is a hologram awaiting your perusal that was Baskh Atare’s last recording. In it he expresses his belief that Corymb was attempting to supplant himself and Tal, setting Deveah on the throne; and that Corymb was aiding off-worlders in what could become a blockade of Nualan economic interests. We cannot make accusations on the basis of this information, but Justinian considered our current situation serious enough to bring this to the Synod.”
“Atare?” Old Justinian had risen once again.
“Speak.”
“The crisis is this: Corymb may return to us a victim of circumstantial evidence; we may even find a blackmailer and slanderer in our ranks. We may also be readmitting a scorpion to our den. Things will be very hard and tense in the next sixhundred fortyeightday. Corymb’s experience could be invaluable. He could also seek an opening and wreak havoc among us, destroying monarchy, temple, synod and masses. A word from him could raise sini and 80-20 discord to fever pitches. My request is this; to those who have supported him in the past, think before backing his words. And those who have never listened, listen; and be not quick to condemn.” He looked at Braan expectantly.
“That is all we have prepared,” Braan said quietly. “Questions? Comments?” As both Arrez and Justinian sat down, several questions were asked, and in them Tay sensed the deep danger they were approaching. The inquiries were specific, current—no one wanted to think too far ahead. And no one wanted to talk about Corymb or off-worlders. Braan dealt with their doubts easily, belaying his exhaustion, and soon the meeting was brought to a dignified end.
Braan turned to Teloa. “May I take the recorder tonight? I would like to go over the complete lecture with no editing or editorializing. It may be that what we think of as useless may in fact be the gold we seek.” Tay was not sure she understood any of the cryptic remarks, but the request was clear. And she knew if her record was poor, he’d replace her, so the comment was not aimed specifically at her work. She mutely handed him the recorder.
Braan took it, critically eyeing the amount of tape dots used. “We are long-winded, are we not? A lot of work for you.” He glanced up, his expression intense. He moved swiftly, but his touch was sure and gentle, checking the lump above her ear. “How is your head? Are you dizzy, nauseous?” She winced and slowly shook her head. His acceptance of her attitude was uncertain. “If you are sure. Sleep in tomorrow if you have a headache; do not worry about rising duties.” Tay started to protest, fearful of others thinking that she’d received preferential treatment. Braan was gone, however, moving into the recesses of the cavern, indicating the matter was closed.
“Atare!” He stopped and faced her again across a crevice. “Get some rest. If there was no time for a proper coronation, there is no time for a state funeral.” He studied her impassively and then disappeared.
“Do not lose any sleep over it. When he drops, I shall just tuck him into bed for a few days.” It was Ronüviel.
“And if he keeps staggering on?”
“I will slip him an air hypo when he least expects it,” Roe went on reassuringly, forcing a smile.
“I wish I could read people like you all do. I feel ... handicapped.” Tay scarcely realized that she was saying it aloud.
“Relax into it sometime. You might be surprised at how easily you can do it. After all, Lyte and Moran are trained sensitives. And you feel things, Tay—without trying. Good night.” Tay nodded at Ronüviel as the woman made her way toward the life shelter. Teloa looked out the portal, saw night deepening, and suddenly felt very tired.