You must take Boxx with you. It is the key. That was what the woman Annata had said.
Keris was curious. “How is it you know Ancient?”
“It…used to be a hobby of mine.” Lyall gave a half smile. “Boxx, can you operate this machine?”
The Chandara raised its head “Yes.”
“Then please, would you do so?” Lyall motioned to Alondo, who placed the machine in the sand, directly in front of Boxx. The creature reached out a foreleg and touched a control on the side. A series of lights appeared on the base of the machine. They all glowed red, except for the one on the far left, which was a steady yellow. The party watched expectantly, but nothing else happened.
“I don’t see any ‘woman,’” Shann said flatly.
Lyall ignored her. “Boxx, where is the woman that appeared to Keris?”
“She Cannot Speak Until The Time.”
“What time?” Lyall enquired.
“The Time Of Her Speaking.”
Keris smiled ruefully. “I should have warned you, having a conversation with one of these is a unique experience. I usually feel a headache coming on about now.”
Lyall was not one to give up easily. “Boxx, when is the time of her speaking?”
“In Two Zero One Turns.”
Alondo figured it up. “That’s more than a whole turn of the season.”
Lyall threw up his hands. “Well, we can’t wait that long for answers.”
“I wouldn’t put too much store by what it says,” Keris cautioned. “I asked it its age before, and it replied that it was more than ten million turns old. Annata said that it was the key to an instrument that could be used to disarm the Prophet’s weapon safely. The instrument too lies beyond the Great Barrier.”
Lyall appeared to be deep in thought. Then he addressed the Chandara. “Boxx, what is the key?”
“I Am The Key,” it affirmed, in its strange lilting voice.
“How does the key work?”
“You Are The Key,” it stressed.
“I thought you said you were the key,” Shann pointed out.
“I Am,” it stated proudly.
Keris laughed, shaking her head. “I warned you.”
Lyall sat back, temporarily admitting defeat. Then the Chandara spoke up. “Does Keris Wish Me To Speak The Key?” There was a pause. “I Can Speak The Key Only To Keris.”
All eyes turned to look at the Keltar. Keris made a ‘how should I know,’ expression. Then she turned to the Chandara. “Boxx, please speak the key.”
It sat up on its hind legs and began to chant, “One Two One Zero Two Zero Two One One Zero One Two One Two Zero Zero Two One–”
“Boxx,” Keris interrupted.
“Yes, Keris.”
“What are you doing?”
“I Speak The Key,” it confirmed. Then it added, “The Key Is Not Complete.”
“That’s all right, never mind.”
“You Are The Key,” it insisted.
“Yes, thank you,” Keris dismissed the creature.
There was another pause. Finally it was Alondo who spoke up. “Well, what does anyone think?”
“I think I have a headache,” Lyall commented wryly.
“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Shann pointed out. “The Great Barrier of Storms.”
“Keris,” Lyall asked, “did Annata say anything about how we were to cross the barrier?”
“Yes she did, and I’ve been thinking about that. She said that on our side of the world there were two towers that could somehow send us to the other side, without having to pass through the storms. She said she would explain how, when she next contacted us.
“I think one of them must be the Dagmar Tower, situated on the estate where I grew up. The tower is ancient–no-one knows who built it and it has lain abandoned for as long as I am aware. However, its proximity to Chalimar means that the country around it will be thick with soldiers and Keltar. Given our current standing with the authorities, I don’t think we stand a chance of getting anywhere near it. So I ‘borrowed’ something from Ferenek, the commander at Gort, that I believe will help us to find the other tower.”
“But…what about the tributes at Gort?” Shann sounded agitated.
“It seems we have a bigger problem now,” Lyall declared. “If the Prophet manages to complete this weapon, then all Kelanni will be threatened, not just the tributes. We have to stop him. It is up to us.”
“But the tributes will be executed after the incident at the compound,” Shann protested.
“I seriously doubt that,” Keris reassured her. “The tributes were not involved in what happened. Ferenek is a ruthless man, but he is also ambitious. Execution of tributes would lead to a drop in lodestone ore production, and Ferenek would not want to be in the position of having to explain that to the authorities at Chalimar.”
Shann clammed up but still looked distinctly unhappy.
“Well, I am sure there will be a lot more to discuss, but for now, I think we could all do with some rest. I will take first watch. Then Keris, Alondo and Shann. All right?”
There was a murmur of agreement. Alondo and Shann made preparations to bed down in the shade of the awnings. Keris lingered. In a few moments, she was alone with Lyall. She had not known what to expect of this lanky, fair-haired man who had posed as a Keltar and tried to free tributes all on his own. She had wondered whether he was madman or saint, and was relieved that he seemed to be neither. He had a way of taking charge of a situation and of inspiring those around him. She could see why Alondo and Shann had attached themselves to him. He was regarding her curiously.
She decided to come straight to the point. “There was one more thing that the woman from the past said that I didn’t mention, because it didn’t seem relevant and to be honest, I’m not sure what it means. You have heard the Prophet referred to as the ‘Unan-Chinneroth’?”
Lyall was nodding, “Yes. It’s Ancient once again, I believe.”
“Annata said that it means ‘without a tail.’ She said that the Prophet’s skin is white and his blood is red, and that he is not Kelanni.
Lyall frowned in consternation. “But if he is not Kelanni, then what is he?”
Chapter 12
Shann had had just about as much as she could stand.
She had left the farmhouse near Lind with a clear mind and a strong purpose. They were going to free the tributes and break the power of the Prophet to oppress the Kelanni people. Now, an arrogant woman, a Keltar with a story that beggared belief, had dropped in out of the sky and somehow hijacked their mission. How could Lyall and Alondo simply go along with it? Could they not see what she was?
It had started from the moment they roused themselves to begin the night’s journey across the desert, away from the fortress of Gort and the tributes she had pledged herself to free. Keris had gathered them all together as if she were somehow now in charge. Shann felt dismay as she watched Lyall meekly fall into line. Someone had to put a stop to this.
Keris had unfurled a large scroll of paper on the sand. “I took this from Ferenek’s office. It is called a map,” she explained. Shann was intrigued, in spite of herself. It was like being a perridon, looking down on the ground from high up, only it showed far more than a perridon could ever see. There was Chalimar and Corte, Lind and the road south through the Southern Desert to Gort.
“All right, we are here.” Keris’ index finger pointed to a point north-east of the fortress. If we make reasonable time, we should pass beyond the edge of the desert in less than two days. Beyond the desert lie the Eastern Plains. There are few settlements. The Kelanni who live there are…different. They are mostly hunters, nomadic. And some of them are little more than rogues. If we should meet any, watch out for yourselves.” She looked at them one at a time, before returning her attention to the map.
“I believe our destination lies here.” She indicated a point on the south-eastern edge of the plains. There was a representation of a tower
on the map, but there was no name next to it. “I calculate that we should be able to make the journey in about twenty days. We will need to exchange your morgren for graylesh. There is a trading post there, near the edge of the desert.”
“What about Boxx?” Alondo asked. “I don’t think it could ride one of those.”
“You have a point,” she acknowledged. “I suggest that we attempt to procure a wagon for supplies, and for Boxx to ride in.
“I did manage to acquire some other items at Gort that we might find useful in a pinch.” Keris got up, went to her saddle pack and returned with two boxes, one a lot smaller than the other. She opened the larger container first. Set in ten velour recesses were ten silver globes. Shann had glimpsed such a globe only once before, during Lyall’s battle with the Keltar in Corte, but she recognised them instantly–lodestone grenades. Keris handed five of them to Lyall and put the remaining five in her own pouch. “Use them only in an emergency,” she counselled. “I do not think it likely that we will be able to get replacements any time soon.”
Shann’s brow knotted. “What about me; don’t I get any?”
Keris’ expression was one of strained patience. “Have you ever used one of these, child?”
Shann felt her hackles rise. No-one had called her “child” since she was little. It was demeaning. Her eyes blazed at the older woman. She forced herself to answer. “No.”
“Then you are more likely to blow a hand or an arm off–or somebody else’s. Just…try and stay out of the way.”
Shann looked at Lyall for support, but his head was down, stowing the grenades in his pouch. She felt alone, isolated, powerless. She lapsed into a morose silence.
Keris selected the smaller receptacle and opened it. Within it were two Rings; bronze in colour, each set with a stone, the colour of midnight. “These are Speaking Rings,” she explained. “When you speak into them, they can reproduce your voice at great distances. However, they need to be Linked with each other, so that they resonate. One Ring can only be used to communicate with one other Ring to which it has been Linked. And the Link cannot be undone; it is permanent. I could only find the one pair, so we need to use them wisely.” She snapped the container shut and placed it in her pouch. Making sure that you keep control, Shann brooded.
Keris stood up and began making preparations to leave. Lyall and Alondo meekly followed her cue as if she was a queen and they were a part of her retinue. The two men packed away the awnings and then began coaxing the morgren forward. Boxx fell in behind the two beasts of burden. Keris addressed Lyall and Alondo directly, ignoring Shann as if she were beneath contempt.
“Follow the road east,” she commanded. “I will head back and check for signs of pursuit and then catch up with you.”
“Be safe.” Alondo called out.
Sure, don’t fall down any holes or anything.
Keris adjusted her cloak and trotted back the way they had come. In a few moments, she flared her cloak and leapt into the ferruginous twilight.
Shann waited until she was sure the Keltar had gone. Then she caught up to the other two. They were side by side leading the animals and engaged in quiet conversation. Whatever it was they were discussing, Shann didn’t care to know. There was an issue that was far more pressing.
“Lyall,” she interrupted him in mid-sentence. “What are we doing?”
He turned from Alondo to her. “Excuse me?”
“What are we doing?” She repeated.
“How do you mean?”
“That woman is a Keltar, and we are taking her orders.”
“We have to know if the Prophet’s men are tracking us, Shann.”
“That’s not what I mean. Ever since she arrived, you two do exactly what she says, and it’s like I don’t exist.”
Lyall brought his animal to a stop and turned to look at her directly. She saw the same clear blue eyes; the same unruly fair hair and felt oddly reassured. “Shann, I brought you into our group because I believed you were courageous and sincere. Since that time you have demonstrated integrity and resourcefulness far beyond anything I might have expected. I regard you as a full member and an equal partner in this enterprise, and I value your opinion. If you have something to say, then I would gladly hear it.”
Shann felt her confidence growing. “All right then. Why are we following the orders of a Keltar?”
“I am not following her orders. And she is not a Keltar; not anymore.”
“Yes she is. Keltar are the sworn servants of the Prophet. They don’t change.”
“I did,” Lyall observed.
“You were never actually a Keltar–you told me as much. Look at what has happened so far. We came to Gort to rescue the tributes and to cut off the Prophet’s supply of lodestones. Now we are headed in the opposite direction. She has already succeeded in diverting us from our purpose. She will destroy us the first chance she gets.”
“I don’t think so, Shann. If she had wanted to destroy us, she could have done so very easily by simply doing nothing. When Alondo and I entered the compound, we had no idea that a trap had been set for us. She saved our lives.”
He glanced at Alondo. Alondo looked down at his feet; then raised his eyes to meet Shann’s. He had become accustomed to siding with Shann against Lyall during their banter on the journey to Gort. It was a source of humour and it had helped to cement them together as a group. Now he looked most uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Shann, I have to agree with Lyall. We would be lying dead in that guardhouse if it wasn’t for her.”
“How do you know she isn’t manipulating you somehow?” Shann pressed on. “And what about that crazy story of hers about being spoken to by someone from the past? You’re not telling me you believe all of that.”
“I don’t know, Shann,” Lyall mused. “I think that if I had to make up a story to deceive someone, I could come up with a hundred better ones than that one. The fact that it is so fantastic makes it more believable, in a way. And there are other things. That machine, for example.
“I don’t know much about machines, but Alondo does. He’s a virtual genius when it comes to mechanics. If he says it is something unique, then I believe him. Finally, there’s the presence of the Chandara.”
“It might be lying.” Shann protested. “She could have influenced it somehow.”
Lyall looked at her askance. “Shann, I don’t think you really believe that.”
She felt as if the sands were shifting beneath her. “…All right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean what it says is right, either.”
Lyall glanced over at Boxx. It was lying with its head resting on the sand, as if patiently waiting for the debate concerning it to end. “Chandara are odd creatures,” he began, “but I have never heard of one of them leaving their forest, let alone attaching themselves to a Kelanni. People say that they are primitive and dull-witted but I believe that they simply have thought patterns that are different than ours. One thing I am fairly convinced of ,though, after a single conversation with one of them, is that there is no way you could persuade it to lie for you, or even get it to do something it did not want to do.
There was a silence as Lyall’s words sunk in. Finally, it was broken by Lyall himself. “If the warning from the past is genuine, then we cannot ignore it. If it is some sort of deception, then that fact will become clear over time. I suggest that for the moment we should remain watchful. Are we all agreed?”
Alondo and Shann both nodded. Lyall put a hand on each of their shoulders, in silent symbol of unity. After a moment of reflection, he released them, and they resumed their journey in contemplative silence. Shann felt calmer. She felt as if she had the old Lyall back, the man she had come to trust. And the bond the three of them had forged together had been reaffirmed and strengthened. Yet despite all of Lyall’s good and fine arguments, there was still something about the Keltar she did not trust.
I will be watching you.
~
“As soon as we are judged to b
e safe, I would like to conduct hariath-sharana.”
Keris looked at Lyall in disbelief. “Who for?”
“For those that died at the compound.”
“You’re joking,” she accused.
“Not at all.”
Keris was tall, but the sandy haired man still had half a head on her. He was dressed in a light loose fitting desert coverall. Keris still wore her cloak, dark tunic and dark breeches, the garb of a Keltar.
She had alighted on the road surface behind the party and announced that there was no evidence of their being trailed. Even as she delivered the news, she sensed that there was a different air about the three of them. The young girl was still quiet, but her air of open hostility seemed to have dissipated. The musician with the odd hat seemed to have a twinkle in his eye and the tall man seemed to have grown in stature. But it was more than that. They seemed to share an unspoken unity which expressed itself in the form of half glances and surreptitious gestures, as if they were part of a cabal from which she was excluded.
They were an odd group, to be sure. The fair man seemed to have had some training as Keltar. That at least made him partially useful. However, the other two appeared to serve no purpose whatsoever, so why he had selected them as confederates was a genuine mystery. The girl had been a kitchen hand before she had embroiled herself in this business. She was probably quite handy with a bread knife, but Keris didn’t give much for her chances if the Prophet’s men caught up to them. She had managed to escape from the compound all on her own, in spite of the increased security, which suggested that she might be more resourceful than she looked. Keris hoped so.
As for the musician–well she could only hope that he would have the sense to run and hide when the time came.
An odd group indeed. A view that seemed only confirmed, when Lyall suddenly suggested the memorial gathering.
“Did you know any of the people in the guardhouse?” She enquired.
“No.”
“Then why–?”
“Because we are Kelanni, and those who died were Kelanni.” He paused. “We must not forget who and what we are. If we do, then the Prophet will have destroyed us without the need for a device.”
“Are you going to do this every time?”
“How do you mean?”
“Every time someone dies in this conflict. Are you going to conduct hariath-sharana for them all?”