The Panopyl Mountains were nice enough if one liked mountains. The bird migration was interesting enough if one liked birds.
Haplif liked neither and was getting damn tired of having to put up with them.
“There’s just so little here that can take you to your future,” he reminded Yoponek as he poured the boy another drink. “Bird migrations are for those who prefer the stillness of the past. Your path lies forward, toward the excitement of honor and recognition.”
“I can’t disagree,” Yoponek said, taking a sip from his cup. “You understand me, Haplif, better even than Yomie does. But my path also includes my betrothed, and this is where she’s happy.”
“Of course, of course,” Haplif said, brushing his fingertips across the side of Yoponek’s head as he pretended to push back a stray strand of hair. The boy’s feelings for Yomie were still there, unfortunately. But they seemed weaker now than they’d been when he’d first met the couple. Maybe the seeds of discontent he’d been planting were finally starting to take root. “You’ve certainly done all you can to make her happy,” he continued. “But does giving her short-term happiness require you to give up your long-term hopes and dreams?”
“I haven’t given them up,” Yoponek said stubbornly. “They’re just postponed.”
“Perhaps,” Haplif said, putting some darkness into his tone. “But the Agbui have a saying: An opportunity postponed is an opportunity lost. Who knows whether or not Councilor Lakuviv will be available to speak to you in a month? Or in two months, or in three?”
“Who knows if he’ll be available in two weeks?” Yoponek countered. “Even if we left today—” He broke off, staring into his cup. “Look, Haplif. If you say that Lakuviv is the one to see, I believe you. But he isn’t the only Xodlak Councilor in the Ascendancy, or even on Celwis. If we can’t see him, maybe someone else will do.”
Haplif curled his fingers in frustration. Maybe someone else would work for Yoponek, but no one else would work for him. “But Councilor Lakuviv is the only one whose land is suitable for our spice harvests,” he said. “He and Redhill province are where our two desires and needs coincide.”
“I’d forgotten that,” Yoponek admitted. “But right now, the Panopyls are where Yomie’s desires and needs coincide.”
And they were back where they’d started. “All I’m asking is that you talk to her,” Haplif said. “There are surely bird migrations everywhere, even on Celwis.”
“I can try,” Yoponek said doubtfully. “But I make no promises.”
“I ask none,” Haplif said. Damn the boy and his utter spinelessness. “Thank you, and sleep well. You’ll be heading out early tomorrow as usual?”
“Yes,” Yoponek said, setting down his cup and moving to the hatch. “We’ll try not to wake anyone when we leave. Good night, Haplif.”
“Good night.”
For a few minutes Haplif sat motionless, thinking and brooding. The Panopyl migration was smaller, less concentrated, and therefore less interesting than the one Shimkif had so artfully disrupted. The contrast was strong enough that he’d hoped Yomie would quickly tire of it and be ready to move on.
But they were now in their fourth day, and the girl was still going strong. Either she was genuinely excited, despite the tameness of the event, or she was just too stubborn to admit she’d been wrong.
Or else this was some kind of power game she was deliberately playing against Haplif.
He muttered a curse. Her cloud journal drawings might hold some clues to that, but he’d searched her room thoroughly during the past two days without finding them. Clearly, she’d taken to carrying the pages with her when she and Yoponek headed out to watch the birds.
In the meantime, Jixtus’s deadline was ticking ever closer.
Haplif stared at the far wall, mentally running the numbers again. If they got out of here in the next three or four days, they could easily manage the rendezvous with Jixtus and the new navigator he’d promised. Five days would be marginal. Six would be impossible.
None of which meant disaster for the mission, of course. Long experience in these things had taught Haplif to build a margin for error into his plans and time lines. But making Jixtus wait at the rendezvous would be a bad idea.
Yoponek had promised to talk to Yomie. But at this point, Haplif’s best hope was Shimkif. Once again, she’d slipped out shortly after their arrival and hadn’t been seen since. Hopefully, this migration was also about to come to an abrupt end.
The next morning dawned clear and bright. Yoponek and Yomie left the ship just before sunrise with all their bird-watching gear. Two hours later they unexpectedly returned.
But not in the same shape as they’d left. Yomie was nearly unconscious, Yoponek was drenched in sweat as he half carried, half dragged her alongside him.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Yoponek panted as the two Agbui who’d hurried out at his plaintive call carried Yomie to her room. The Chiss girl’s eyes were unfocused, Haplif saw as they passed him, her breathing labored. “She said she wasn’t feeling well, and we started back. Halfway down the path, she suddenly became too weak to walk.”
“You should have called,” Haplif said, taking the boy’s arm and leading him into the ship behind the others. Yoponek made as if to follow Yomie; Haplif turned him instead to the salon and sat him down in one of the chairs. “We would have come to help you.”
“We couldn’t,” Yoponek said. He was on the edge of exhaustion, Haplif could see, his legs wobbling from the grueling task of getting his betrothed back to the ship. “Comm emissions confuse the birds, so that whole area is under a suppression blanket.”
“I see,” Haplif said, pouring him a drink. Was Yomie’s sudden illness pure coincidence? Or was it Shimkif’s doing? “We need to call a doctor. Our medical knowledge of your people is very limited.”
“An emergency team is on the way,” Yoponek said, drinking deeply and handing the cup back for a refill. “I waited to call until we were in sight of the ship so I could tell them where to come.”
Haplif frowned. “Did you think we might have left?”
Yoponek gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. The way you talked last night…you need to do what’s right for you and your people. I understand that.”
“That may be,” Haplif said. “But we would never leave our companions. Certainly not without talking about it.”
“Haplif?” someone called from the corridor. “The Chiss medics are here.”
“Show them to Yomie’s room,” Haplif said, standing up and offering Yoponek a helping hand. “Come.”
“A greenstripe?” Yomie asked weakly from her bed, frowning up at Yoponek and Haplif. “But I never felt a sting or even a bite.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Yoponek said, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. “The medics said they’re one of the few venomous insects that don’t bite or sting. They spit their venom onto the skin to be absorbed into the rest of the body. The ones here in the mountains have to defend against bigger animals, so their toxin is particularly nasty.”
“First the Grand Migration, now this,” Yomie murmured. “I don’t seem to be having much luck these days.”
“The good news is that now that you’ve been exposed, the antitoxins in your body will make sure you won’t ever have another reaction this extreme,” Yoponek went on. “Even better, you should be pretty much recovered in a day or two.”
“So are we heading for Celwis now?” Yomie asked, a hint of resignation in her voice.
Haplif and Yoponek exchanged looks. “I thought you wanted to stay here and watch the migration,” Yoponek said.
“I thought you wanted to go to Celwis,” Yomie countered.
“We can discuss all that later,” Haplif put in quickly. The last thing he wanted was to have Yomie making demands when Yoponek’s emotions were all tangled up in her illness. “Right now, as Yoponek said, you need rest.”
“All right,” Yomie said, closing her eyes. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Yoponek promised, squeezing her hand once and then turning to the hatch. Haplif gave her an encouraging smile and followed.
Yoponek had retired to his room to think—and, knowing him, probably worry—when Shimkif finally returned.
“I couldn’t find a way to disrupt the migration this time,” she said, sinking into a chair and taking the drink Haplif handed her. “So I did the next best thing and disrupted her. Hopefully, that will be the end of it.”
“Maybe,” Haplif said doubtfully. “We’ll see what she has to say in the morning.”
“You don’t understand,” Shimkif said. “I dropped in on her before coming in here. You know how twitchy she is about being touched? Well, not right now she isn’t.”
Haplif crinkled his forehead skin. “You realize readings taken while the subject is asleep aren’t reliable.”
“Ah, but she wasn’t asleep,” Shimkif said. “That’s the point. She was a little dozy, but conscious. It turns out we were wrong.” She considered. “Or I was, anyway. See, she doesn’t want Yoponek to give up all his hopes and dreams for her. She just wants him to be willing to give them up. Once she’s satisfied that he would do that for her, he can go charging on to fame and fortune on Celwis, and she’ll stand by smiling and being all proud of him.”
“That’s great,” Haplif said, sifting rapidly through the possibilities. If he could maneuver Yoponek into making that commitment clear to her, they could be out of here by tomorrow.
“Maybe it’s great,” Shimkif cautioned. “The problem is that we don’t know what it’ll take to persuade her. Theoretically, Yoponek should be the best source of information, but to be honest I’m not convinced he knows his betrothed any better than we do.”
“Maybe I can get something from him in the morning,” Haplif said. “Or maybe from her.”
“Just be careful not to push them,” Shimkif said, draining her drink. “The girl especially. She’s smarter than she seems—I’ll guarantee you that. If she even suspects we’re trying to slip something past her, she’ll pull them both out so fast you’ll wonder if they need a navigator for the trip.”
“I’ll be careful,” Haplif promised. “Go get some rest. With luck, tomorrow—or the day after at the latest—we’ll be off this miserable planet.”
Yomie was sitting up in bed, working with her questis, when Haplif arrived. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully as he stepped into the compartment. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” she said, looking at him over the top of the questis. “I was just reading up on greenstripes. It says they almost never attack Chiss.”
“That’s what the medics said, too,” Haplif agreed. “They told us attacks are rare, but they happen a couple of times a year.” He smiled as he stepped closer. “That means you’re one in a million, which of course we’ve always known. Where’s Yoponek?”
“I sent him to the viewing grounds,” Yomie said, still eyeing him. “No sense both of us missing out on the day.” She lowered her gaze, focusing again on the questis. “I was searching for other migrations on Shihon. Turns out there are more than I realized.”
“Interesting,” Haplif said, taking a final step to put himself beside her bed. “Maybe after we’ve visited Celwis we can come back and watch one or two of them.”
“Maybe.” Yomie closed her eyes and stretched back, as if adjusting her spine and neck. Haplif reached forward and brushed her head with his fingertips.
Hatred!
He jerked the hand away, the unexpected flash of emotion nearly knocking him back off his feet. He blinked away the sensation and looked back at Yomie.
To find her staring hard at him, the hatred and revulsion he’d just felt now plastered across her face.
And there was something else there, too: understanding and a bitter-edged validation. “I knew it,” she said, her voice digging into Haplif like shards of broken ceramic. “I knew it. You’re telepathic. You’re all telepathic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Haplif insisted.
But the words were pure reflex and far, far too late. Her little trap had nailed him, all right. Nailed him right to the deck.
“You’ve been manipulating us ever since we met, haven’t you?” she accused, ignoring his protest. “Making us jump to your music. Leading us by the nose.” Her face went suddenly rigid. “No. Leading Yoponek by the nose. Why? What possible use is he to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Haplif repeated. “Yomie—this is the toxin talking. You’re not well. You’re—”
“And who made me that way?” Yomie snapped. “Who poisoned—” She broke off, her eyes going wide. “The Grand Migration. Did you poison that, too?”
“Yomie—”
“Never mind,” she said, dropping the questis onto her lap and snagging her comm from the side table. “No more lies. As soon as I tell Yoponek—”
And with that, of course, Haplif no longer had a choice.
Option three.
“She left?” Yoponek asked, frowning at the message Haplif had given him. “Just…left?”
“Not permanently,” Haplif hastened to assure him, brushing his fingertips across the boy’s head. Yoponek was surprised, confused, and unhappy. But there was no suspicion. “As you see, she’s just going to spend some time at the migration and two or three of the others in the area, then connect up with us again once we return from Celwis.”
“But that could be months,” Yoponek protested. “How can she leave when she hasn’t even recovered from her poisoning?”
“It won’t be months before we’re back,” Haplif soothed. “Six weeks, eight at the most. And the medics came by again while you were gone and checked her out. I’ve got their report right here, if you want to read it. Don’t worry, she’s fine.”
“I suppose,” Yoponek said, still frowning.
“And even on Celwis we’ll only be a few days’ journey from here,” Haplif pointed out. “If she starts feeling bad, or wants to leave, she can message you and we’ll send the ship back to get her while our spices are growing.”
“I know,” Yoponek said. “It’s just…leaving me behind doesn’t sound like something she’d do.”
“How little we truly know other people,” Haplif said philosophically. “Did you realize she was this interested in bird migrations, for example? I didn’t think so. No, I think she’s been looking for a way she could watch her birds while you met with Councilor Lakuviv, and this was her solution. Now both your hopes and dreams will be satisfied.” He shook his head in admiration. “Very clever girl.”
“She is that,” Yoponek said, his face clearing. “Well, if that’s what she wants, I guess she’s old enough to make that decision. When do we head for Celwis?”
“We can leave within the hour,” Haplif said, brushing the boy’s head again. Some of the unhappiness lingered, but it was rapidly fading into a guarded eagerness at this sudden and unexpected opportunity to finally take the first step toward his future glory.
Never mind that Haplif’s story was gossamer-thin. Yoponek wanted to believe it, and so he did. “And of course, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can complete our business on Celwis and reunite the two of you.”
“That makes sense,” Yoponek said. “Well. I need to get cleaned up before dinner.”
“I’ll meet you in the salon at seven,” Haplif said. “Oh—one more thing. She left this for you.” He held out the brooch he’d given the girl.
“She left it?” Yoponek asked, frowning as he picked it up off Haplif’s palm.
“She said it was her promise you’d be together again,” Haplif said. “She said to keep it until you can pin it back on her.” He smiled. “Perhaps at your wedding?”
“Absolutely at our wedding,” the boy said. He gazed at the brooch another moment, then slipped it carefully into his pocket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Haplif said. “Now go clean up. By the time dinner is served, we’ll be on our way.” He smiled. “To Celwis and your future.”
Six hours later, when Haplif was sure Yoponek was fast asleep in his room, he had the ship leave hyperspace just long enough to release Yomie’s body into the vast emptiness of the universe.
He made damn sure that all the pretty pictures of her cloud journal, the fancy oh-so-clever drawings where she’d been secretly recording everything she knew about him and the Agbui, went with her.