The Grand Migration on Shihon was a confluence of a dozen or more bird species, each crossing migration paths with the others in a large area of fields, ponds, and rolling hills. Most of the birds stayed for a while, eating and resting until the next wave of incoming travelers pushed them out. The whole event took a full month, turning the place into a wonderland for serious bird-watchers.
As Haplif had predicted, they arrived a day late for the event, shortly after the first vanguard scouts from the incoming flocks arrived, but well before the flocks themselves were due to make their appearance. Hopefully, Yomie would be content with that.
The Agbui ship was assigned a spot on one of the landing fields a few kilometers from the edge of the migration assembly site. An hour later, attendance chits and maps in hand, Yoponek and Yomie joined the other bird enthusiasts on the railcar system that would take everyone within walking distance of the event.
With the two Chiss finally gone, it was time for Haplif’s meeting with Jixtus.
No one was standing guard at the freighter’s entrance when Haplif arrived. The hatch opened at a twist of the release handle, and he took a couple of steps into the air lock to get out of view from outside. There he paused and pulled back his hood. “Haplif of the Agbui, reporting as ordered,” he announced to the empty room.
In response, the inner hatch slid open, revealing a long corridor heading forward. As Haplif started walking, another hatch a few meters ahead also slid open, soft light from the room behind it spilling out into the corridor. Bracing himself, he walked to the hatchway and stepped through it.
He’d expected to find himself in an office. Instead, the room was a meditation center, with colored drift tendrils intertwining around floating light globes over thick tactile carpet and self-contouring anatomic chairs. Jixtus was nestled into one of the chairs, hidden beneath his usual robe, hood, and veil. One of his gloved hands was making small movements in time with the quiet music playing in the background. “Haplif of the Agbui,” he said in greeting, the waving hand interrupting its rhythm long enough to point to one of the other chairs. “Sit.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Haplif said, easing down into the indicated chair. Like all anatomic chairs, this one looked like it would be easier to get into than out of.
“Tell me, do you find this Grand Migration fascinating?” Jixtus asked.
“We only came here because our Chiss guides wanted to,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive. “We have to accommodate them or they might not—”
“Yes, so Shimkif informed me,” Jixtus said. “But that’s not what I asked. I asked if you found the confluence fascinating.” He cocked his head, that side of the hood opening slightly to show more of the veil behind it. “I certainly do.”
Haplif stared. “You do?”
“Without a doubt,” Jixtus said. “Did you know that, while most of the birds here feed on seeds and insects, there are several larger predator birds as well?”
“I would think that would make the seed-eaters uncomfortable.”
“Yes, one would assume that,” Jixtus agreed. “But these particular predators eat rodents and fish, not other birds.” He lifted a finger in emphasis. “Here’s the interesting part. There are other land and water animals nearby that do target the smaller birds. The predator birds’ response is to take settlement grounds along the edges of the main migration fields, up against the surrounding tree line and into the trees themselves.”
Haplif shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Jixtus said. “The predator birds, with beaks and talons designed for combat, are creating a protective zone around the more vulnerable species, thus discouraging attacks while the flocks rest up to continue their journeys.” He made a sort of chuckling sound. “Rather analogous to Chiss society in general, though one must be careful not to carry metaphors too far. Did you bring your report?”
“Yes,” Haplif said, pulling the datastick from inside his robe. He leaned forward as far as he could in the anatomic chair, just managing to get the stick to Jixtus’s casually outstretched hand. “The majority of the information was gleaned from conversations with our guides,” he added as he returned to a more comfortable position. “One of them, Yoponek, fancies himself a scholar of Chiss history, while his social life-cravings require at least a basic knowledge of current family relationships. Other details I was able to fill in on my own.”
“Excellent,” Jixtus said, setting the datastick aside. “That should prove most useful. What’s your current schedule for this journey to Celwis?”
“Yomie, the other Chiss, wants to spend another four weeks watching the migration,” Haplif said. “If we leave right after that—”
“You have three weeks.”
Haplif felt his mouth quiver. “Excuse me?”
“The various pieces are coming together,” Jixtus said. “If you’re convinced this Councilor Lakuviv is the one, you must make contact with him in no more than three weeks.”
“I see,” Haplif said. Looking away from the masked figure, he let his eyes drift around the room, watching the tendrils as he tried to think.
Option one was to simply dump Yoponek and his annoying betrothed. But as he’d told Shimkif, there was no guarantee he could find someone else to introduce them to Lakuviv. Option two was to give Yomie three more weeks of bird-watching, then lock her into the ship and head for Celwis whether she liked it or not. She would be a windstorm to live with for a while, but he could get through that. The question then would be how badly her attitude would affect Yoponek’s own enthusiasm for meeting Celwis’s top Xodlak officials.
Option three…
He looked back at Jixtus. The veiled face was still pointed at him, and Haplif had the eerie sense of an unblinking stare behind it. “All right,” he said. “Three weeks it is.”
“Excellent,” Jixtus said, his voice giving Haplif the impression that the other was beaming. “I knew I could rely on you. Now, once you’ve properly prepared Lakuviv, you’re going to need a navigator.”
“I assumed we would use the navigator we already have,” Haplif said, a brief chill running through him. He didn’t know what part of the Chaos these so-called Attendants came from—he’d never seen anyone like them except the pair in Jixtus’s personal service. But they were clearly from someplace far away, and their purple robes and eerie eye lenses were as unsettling as their perpetual silence.
“Impossible,” Jixtus said. “He must remain hidden from everyone in this part of the Chiss Ascendancy. But I’ll find you someone suitable, possibly a Farseeker or Void Guide.”
“Or a Pathfinder,” Haplif suggested. “They do a lot of work with the Chiss, especially at the Celwis end of the Ascendancy.”
“So they do,” Jixtus agreed, sounding thoughtful. “Now that you mention them, I believe I know the perfect one for this task. Excellent.” He picked up a datarec from beside his chair and tapped it. “Meet me at this location in twenty days.”
“That’s just one day before you want me on Celwis,” Haplif warned, pulling out his own datarec and checking the location Jixtus had just sent. “Never mind,” he added as he saw how close together the two locations were. “That should be no trouble.”
“Good,” Jixtus said. “That will be all for now. I’ll have more information when I deliver your Pathfinder.”
“Yes, my lord,” Haplif said. Tucking his datarec away, he rolled to the side, hoping that particular move would allow him to quickly exit his chair while still maintaining some dignity. He was right on the first, not so much on the second. “I’ll see you in twenty days.”
“Good.” Jixtus gestured in the direction of the distant migratory fields. “If you have time, I encourage you to take a moment and observe the birds. It will be as instructive to your mind as it is good for your soul.”
“If I have time,” Haplif said. “If not, I expect my soul is as good now as it’s ever going to get.”
Shimkif was gone when Haplif returned. She’d left no message beyond a brief statement that she’d be back when she’d fixed their problem.
For three days nothing changed. Yoponek and Yomie headed off each morning for their bird-watching and came back each evening tired but happy. If they noticed Shimkif’s absence, they didn’t ask about it.
On the fourth day, the two Chiss returned barely two hours after leaving.
And this time they weren’t happy at all.
“What’s the matter?” Haplif asked, intercepting them just inside the air lock. “Did you forget something?”
Yomie didn’t answer. She just glared at him and pushed past, stomping down the corridor toward her room. “Yoponek?” Haplif prompted.
The boy’s lips tightened. “It’s over,” he said. “I don’t know how or why, but somehow it’s over.”
“What’s over?” Haplif asked, frowning.
“The Grand Migration.” Yoponek sighed. “The birds are just…I don’t know. Gone. There are still a couple of flocks coming in, but all the rest have picked up and gone elsewhere.”
“That’s bizarre,” Haplif said, peering down the corridor where Yomie had disappeared. “I gather Yomie is disappointed?”
“Disappointed is hardly the word,” Yoponek said sourly. “Amazing, isn’t it? A thousand years running, and the stupid birds pick our wandering year to change their pattern.”
“Maybe they’ll be back,” Haplif said. “We have this landing slot for the full month. Maybe whatever disturbed them will be gone in a couple of days and they’ll be back.”
“The docents we talked to don’t think so,” Yoponek said. “They say that, for whatever reason, this part of the migration is over for the year.”
“I’m so sorry,” Haplif said, brushing his fingers comfortingly across the side of Yoponek’s head. There was mostly frustration there, mixed with concern, confusion, and more than a bit of relief.
The frustration and confusion were obvious. The concern was probably for Yomie and her disappointment. Was the relief because they could now abandon this whole migration nonsense and go to Celwis?
Time for a gentle probe. “You know, there must also be bird migrations on Celwis,” he pointed out. “Not to mention the waterfalls Shimkif talked about. In fact, with all that water around, it’s likely there would be plenty of birds and animals for Yomie to watch.”
“Maybe,” Yoponek said.
“And while Shimkif and Yomie go see the birds and waterfalls,” Haplif continued, “you and I can contact Councilor Lakuviv. A few hours—half a day at the most—and you’ll rejoin your betrothed having solidified your glorious future with the Coduyo family.”
“That would be wonderful,” Yoponek said wistfully. “But I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.”
“Yoponek?” Yomie’s voice came from down the corridor.
They turned. Yomie was striding toward them, questis in hand, a determined look on her face. “All right, so the Grand Migration is over,” she said, coming to a halt in front of them. “There are two other migrations going on at other sites. We can go see one of them. Maybe both—we’ll have time.”
“Excuse me?” Haplif asked, staring at her. No—she couldn’t be serious.
“You heard me,” she said, swiveling the questis around and holding it up in front of him and Yoponek. “The one along the Panopyl Mountains is closest and it’s supposed to start in two days. If we hurry, we can get a good landing slot before everyone else here figures it out and heads in that direction.”
Yoponek threw Haplif a sideways look. “Yomie, we agreed we were going to Celwis, remember?” he reminded her gently.
“After the Grand Migration.”
“The migration is over.”
“We wrote a month for it into our schedule,” Yomie said firmly. “There are still three weeks left.”
“Yomie, be reasonable—”
“I am being reasonable,” she shot back. “You all want to go talk to some stuffy number-squinter on Celwis? Fine. Leave me here and come get me when you’re done.”
Yoponek tensed, and even without touching him Haplif could see that he was about to say something stupid or irrevocable. Time for a more diplomatic voice to chime in. “Please don’t be angry, Yomie,” he said, using his most soothing tone. “Of course we’re not going to leave you here all alone. But our supply of spices is dwindling, and we need to find somewhere to start a new crop.”
“So start one while we’re watching the birds,” Yomie said. “You said you can get a crop in a couple of weeks.”
“If the soil and climate are suitable,” Haplif said. “The proper combination for that is exceedingly rare. And the mountain climate you’re suggesting won’t work at all.”
“What about these?” she asked, tapping the brooch pinned to her tunic. “You could sell these instead of your spices.”
“The jewelry is more difficult to produce and requires a supply of the metals.”
“But it doesn’t require special dirt or humidity or whatever,” Yomie countered. “What are you saving them for, somebody’s starday?”
Behind his earnest smile, Haplif ground his teeth. He’d known right from the start that giving Yomie that brooch was a bad idea. “They’re only for very special people.”
“Well, then, maybe you should take this one back,” Yomie said, reaching behind the brooch to unfasten the clasp.
“Yomie, that’s not fair,” Yoponek chided.
Yomie hesitated, then lowered her hand. “You’re right,” she said reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Haplif.” She wiggled the questis again at Yoponek. “But you did say we could stay until the migration was over. Can’t we at least go to the Panopyl Mountains for a few days?”
“If it’s this important to you, sure,” Yoponek said. “But it’s not fair to make the Agbui stay here when they need to move on. Maybe it’s time we parted ways.”
“I would hate for our relationship to end in such unpleasantness,” Haplif protested. “Let me make a suggestion. When Shimkif returns, we’ll go to the mountains and see what’s happening with that other migration. At that point we’ll discuss it again, and hopefully come to a mutually acceptable time to travel to Celwis. Is that agreeable?”
“It is to me,” Yoponek said, quiet relief in his voice that they didn’t have to have this out here and now. “Yomie?”
“All right,” Yomie said, a bit more reluctantly, probably realizing that Haplif’s proposal was still only half a victory. “Where did Shimkif go?”
“I don’t know,” Haplif said with complete honesty. “But I’m sure she’ll be back soon. There’s food in the salon if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you,” Yoponek said. “Come on, Yomie. You can tell me about these other migrations while we eat.”
Three hours later, Shimkif finally returned. “Are they back?” she asked as she walked into Haplif’s room.
“Yes, a few hours ago,” he said. Her clothing was stained with dirt, perspiration, and something that looked like plant residue, but she was clearly very satisfied with herself. “I understand the Grand Migration has moved. How did you pull that off?”
“Quite easily, actually,” she said, dropping her backpack on the deck and lowering herself gingerly into one of the chairs. “I poisoned some of the areas—not lethally, just enough to make the birds sick—so they would avoid them. Then I captured some other birds and took them to an area where I’d laid in extra food supplies. Once both groups passed the word to the other birds—however the Chaos they do that—enough of the flocks shifted location that the whole thing was thrown off balance.”
Haplif nodded. “Nice.”
“I thought so,” Shimkif said “We gearing up to leave?”
“Small problem,” Haplif said, scowling. “Yomie’s found another migration halfway around the planet she wants to go to.”
Shimkif’s forehead skin crinkled. “What?” she asked, her voice suddenly gone still and ominous.
“You heard me,” Haplif said. “At the moment, I’ve only promised we’ll go for a couple of days before we reopen the Celwis discussion. I assume your trick will work as well there as it did here?”
“You assume wrong,” Shimkif growled. “The Grand Migration is well documented, and I had time on the way here to work out the details on the birds and their feeding habits. Not a chance I can do it again on the fly.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Haplif said, glowering. “Well, then, we’ll have to come up with some other way to stop it.”
“Yes,” Shimkif said, her voice grim and thoughtful. “I suppose we will.”