Geth scrolled through the data on his sheet for a few seconds and then looked up at the president of Tain-Balmor who had taken the seat across from him.
“Are these figures correct?”
“They are the latest numbers from our intelligence network,” Balmor-6 answered. “They should be accurate if the source is good.”
Geth nodded. Intelligence was never accurate, and the mechanoid had done quite a nice job of saying so without saying so. “Have you already shared this information with your Expeditionary Guildsmen?”
It was Jolen’s turn to nod. His green eyes stared hypnotically at the admiral as if inviting his counsel.
“Then I suggest we start talking about tactical issues here, gentlemen.”
The admiral dropped the printout into the recycling hopper set into the tabletop and folded his arms across a barreled chest. There was a sharp whine as the machine atomized it. He had already committed the numbers to memory.
“That is why I called you here,” Jolen said as one eyebrow rose. “And you thought this meeting would be a waste of your time, didn’t you? It seems the reason for this meeting falls into your realm of expertise after all.”
CHAPTER 16
Lady Achanei Feillion stood on the tips of her toes and peered through the humming slats of an energy grill. A panoramic view presented her with the chaos surrounding the outside of her prison. As far as she could tell, the tower that held her cell was the tallest structure in a city whose skyline was already seriously overcrowded.
As she peered down from the window, she could see hundreds of landing platforms, docking extensions, and transit causeways jutting out from the trunk of the tower like branches of an enormous concrete and steel tree. Many of the branches merged into smaller towers nearby, creating an urban briar patch. It was like a smaller, sparser version of Besti’s old, deep industrial city structures.
A constant flurry of transit vehicles, shuttles, and cargo ships of all shapes and sizes buzzed around the main tower. They jigged back and forth in a haphazard series of complex and dangerous looking maneuvers, docking to unload the goods and passengers they carried.
She tried to see the ground through the traffic and the interwoven urbanization, but the tower was tall enough, and her cell high up enough, that any view of it was lost in smoggy clouds below. She abandoned any hope of finding escape through the window. A beam of light suddenly stabbed into her room and she ducked her head down out of view. A hovering patrolmech droned past. Its energy weapons were charged and ready to deter any one insane enough to try such an escape.
She thought back over the past day or two that she had been confined to the small cell. At least she thought that it had been that long since her abduction. She didn’t really remember her transit to wherever it was they were holding her. They had drugged her during the incident and she had spent the first couple of hours in a groggy, half-sleep dream state.
She had been rushing from the Citadel to her family’s launch to join her comrades and Oand-ib in battle against the Protectorate on Besti when several armed men in non-descript uniforms had jumped her and hijacked her ship. She put up a fierce struggle, broke the arm of one man, cost another a finger, and badly bruised a third before they had subdued and drugged her.
She wasn’t quite sure who had kidnapped her. They had fought better than the average soldier, so she had her ideas. Despite the civility the Seven Guilds alleged to portray, many of the old ways of political subterfuge remained among the old Noble Houses. Her years of training in these skills left her to assume that enemies of House Feillion had taken advantage of the uproar on Besti and abducted her, either to extract a ransom, or to help advance their political agendas through blackmail. The crassness of it sickened her.
Achanei pressed her back against the wall, slid down it, and sat in the dust on the tarnished metal floor. The small room where she was confined contained nothing more than a bed, an all-purpose sink and waste disposal unit, and a large metal table, which took up half her space. At first, she thought an interrogator would use the table, but there were no chairs and no one had come to cross-examine her.
Not since the initial struggle on Besti, before she had blacked out from the drugs, had she seen or heard from anyone. Her guards, if there were any beyond the locked door, never entered her cell or made noise beyond it. Someone had shoved bitter, mineral-rich water and meager portions of starchy food through a hole at the foot of the door before she had even woken up from the drugged sleep.
She just sipped the water, and left the food there untouched. The only certainty was that she was no longer on Besti. The gravity was less, the air thinner, and she had never seen a city like this on the backwater industrial world. She tried not to dwell on what might happen to her next and concentrated instead on keeping herself sane during the uncertain isolation.
She tried not to think about Aiben, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Oand-ib had sent him on a mission that would lead to their eternal separation. The fantasy of him holding her in his arms back at the Citadel, where they could confess their love for one another, tried to interrupt her thoughts, but she distracted herself instead by concentrating on the immediate situation.
An arachnid the size of her thumb scrambled across the floor and came to a stop underneath the bed. It bounced up and down on its eight legs. She watched it unafraid. On Feillia Prime, huge arachnids were quite common, even in her father’s palace, which boasted a rather large and well-equipped extermination staff. In fact, people considered it good luck to see such a small arachnid on her homeworld since it was so rare.
A tingle crawled up her spine. For a brief moment, she imaged a relative of the eight-legged creature bouncing in the dust was making its way up her back. Maybe her luck was just about to begin after all.
CHAPTER 17
After walking for several hours through the forest, the Mora Bentian insurgents and their guests emerged into a clearing permeated with cool, pine-scented air. The sun had climbed higher on the horizon and was washing away the half-light of morning. Trees were unveiled in their true shade of green. Aiben warmed up in the tepid light as it pushed away the last of the night’s chill.
He let his nanomechs lay dormant for a few minutes. He wanted to feel the true sensations of morning on the world where Oand-ib had sent him. He felt strangely at peace with these people, like there was no need to guard himself from them.
The Keazil signaled for Oromgol to move up alongside her. She halted the party with an open palm and pulled him off some distance to the side. The two bent their heads together and whispered to one another. Aiben wondered why they were being so secretive. Neither of them used shalal hiliz. Were they afraid he would hear them through the mental link? It should have been possible to shield him from their thoughts, just as he had been able to speak to the Keazil without Oromgol knowing.
He turned his head slightly, pointed an ear, an inconspicuous gesture, and hoped to catch a snippet of what they were saying. Their voices were barely audible even with the amplification the nanomechs provided. They were speaking in some dialect of hiliz, that much he could tell, but he couldn’t understand them well enough to know what they were saying.
After several minutes, the two parted and Oromgol broke off through a clump of trees with just a brief look and a nod of his head towards Aiben. The man melted into the flourishing boughs, which wrapped around him and sucked him in. The Keazil returned to Aiben and his companions.
“Oromgol will make sure that the Shelezar is prepared for our arrival,” the woman said.
“The Shelezar?” Ballis raised an eyebrow.
“She is the most important person in all of the five ilud’hi. She stands apart from them all, belonging to none, yet owing allegiance to everyone. She is the mediator among us. When the alachti ai alamat, the change of hands, is upon us, she is to make sure we do it without bloodshed. She is to make sure each of the ilud’hi serves as custodian when
it is their time. Only she can determine if the final alachti ai alamat is upon us.”
The Keazil’s eyes drifted to Aiben. The look on her face was almost accusing, but she quickly replaced it with a more neutral mien. Ballis, on the other hand, was frowning. Ever since they had run into these people, the zealous face of the mechanic had been losing ground to the somber facade of the soldier.
Aiben hadn’t understood the Keazil’s words any more than Ballis had, but it was clear it had to do with proving himself to the ilud’hi. He didn’t know how he was going to do that. Personally, he was still trying to understand and accept himself that he was really the one destined to wield Tulan’s weapon. At least that is what Oand-ib and the Hegirith’hi Shez had planned for him. The thought of his anab made his throat catch. He tried to put the next logical thought out of his head and a lungful of air escaped with a quivering sigh.
“Several people are approaching,” Lev-9 spoke. His sensor band was rotating and flickering rapidly.
“Is everything alright?” Ballis whispered at Aiben’s side.
“I’m fine.” Aiben scolded himself for not sensing the people approaching them until now. He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings again. Thoughts he couldn’t afford to dwell on right now had diverted him.
“Those are my people approaching,” the Keazil said.
The day’s new light suddenly penetrated into the clearing and allowed Aiben to see the Keazil’s face for the first time without enhancement. She had pulled her black hair back and fastened it with a tie, exposing the elegant curve of her jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, palm out, fingers bent. Her other hand tightened its grip on her weapon.
Instantly, several coarse-looking women materialized from under the cover of the surrounding trees. Bits and pieces of armor scavenged from Zenzani war artifacts decked out each of them in the same fashion as the Keazil. If that wasn’t a clear enough indication of their affiliation, they aimed energy rifles at every person in the clearing, except her.
“So we’re prisoners after all?” Ballis said. He touched her arm. It was a tactical mistake. It seemed the passion he had worked into his mid-years had stripped away some of the soldiering veneer of his youth after all.
All of the guns swung to target him and a humming crescendo vibrated the air around them. But the Keazil had already planted a thumb on the back of Ballis’s hand and wrenched his wrist away, digging her fingers into his palm. She applied just enough pressure to keep him still while she shot a razor-edged gaze at him. She held his eyes for just a few seconds more, the juxtaposition of an icy expression spiting fire, and then let her face melt into a disarming smile.
“Of course not,” she said in Zenzani. She cocked her head in Aiben’s direction, but continued to talk to Ballis. “Your friend has to prove himself to them, just as he will have to with the Shelezar.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Ballis demanded. She let go. He vigorously rubbed his hand and flexed his wrist. His expression had turned completely grim.
“Show them your halifi,” she said to Aiben.
Aiben hesitated at first, but then pushed back his sleeve and raised his arm. He turned it in the morning light so everyone could see the intricate design carved in his flesh. It was the exact image of the tattoo that the Keazil’s people wore on their arms.
He was beginning to suspect that his mark was the work of the nanomechs, though their purpose for doing it eluded him. Maybe they knew these were the people he needed to connect with in order to find im shalal. If so, that meant his nanomechs were acting with more autonomous intelligence than he ever thought possible. Deep down, that thought frightened him.
The rough women slung their weapons across their backs at the sight of the symbol. However, their stone-set faces betrayed nothing but loyalty to the woman who commanded them. The Keazil didn’t waste any time and waved for Aiben and his companions to follow her once again as she took off through the trees. Half of her guards fell into step behind her; the other half fell in behind Aiben and his companions and pressed them forward.
“Who is this Shelezar and why do you need to prove yourself to him?” Ballis asked Aiben as they walked on.
“Shelezar means historian, but with more of a religious slant, I think. Don’t ask me how I know that.” Aiben tapped his head with a forefinger. “It’s all up here. I’m still trying to piece everything together. I’ll see if I can find out more.”
Aiben pushed his way past the armed women. They scowled, but let him pass without resistance. He had to step up his pace to match the Keazil’s steady stride. He watched her sidelong for a few seconds. She was beautiful. He had to gather his courage before using shalal hiliz with her. He wanted to make sure that only she could hear him, but she noticed his attention and spoke first.
Yes, Iniri’ki Hegirith?
I realize I never introduced myself properly. My name is Aiben.
Her brows drew together. She gave him a slanting look. Is that your real name?
Ever since I can remember. Aiben grinned at her. He could only imagine how strange it looked to someone who didn’t know they were conversing with thought.
And before you could remember?
That made Aiben think of the synthetic memories from Oand-ib. I think I’m starting to remember a lot of things that I have forgotten for a long time.
The Keazil shook her head. Don’t say anything more until you have talked with the Shelezar and she’s determined the truth of who you claim to be.
I haven’t claimed to be anyone.
Haven’t you? You’re here on Rahan, you speak with shalal hiliz, and you have the mark that Jerekiel of old prophesied.
Jerekiel. Aiben recognized that name from deep within his memories. It was also there on the surface of his thoughts where Oand-ib had left it. How did it fit in with his mission to find im shalal? How did it link to the dream-like visions he had experienced of the Haman? He felt like some of these memories were resisting his desire to remember them until some appointed time when he needed them. Perhaps Jerekiel was one of those memories. He wanted to ask, but her thoughts drilled into him again.
There’s something you seek, but haven’t asked about it yet. I wonder why?
Was she referring to im shalal? How could she have known about that? Had she been in contact with Oand-ib? Then he remembered cybermancers had been to Mora Bentia just before the Zenzani invasion. They would have told these people that someone would come for the device. He decided to deflect her question until he could get a better understanding of how much the Keazil and her Shelezar knew.
They call you Keazil, but that isn’t your real name either. It’s a title. What is your name?
Jerekiel.
That name had to be the key to unlocking the mysteries captured in his head! I was told to find you, Aiben thought. His pulse quickened. You must be able to tell me…
You were told to find me? She squinted at him. Who told you this?
Hegirith Oand-ib.
I don’t know that name.
Are you sure? Aiben’s heart sank. He searched her face, but she just shook her head.
“We’re here,” she said aloud.
Aiben saw they had hiked down into a basin littered with boulders slicked by moss. Between them, slimy vines had grown over the mouth of a tunnel leading into the underground warrens of the Neilemi’aaki ilud. Jerekiel led the company in. The passages were cold, damp channels dug deep down into the earth. Uneven packs of dirt and scattered rocks created stumbling blocks, but small glowing globes hovered along the ceiling about every twenty paces and provided some cautious light. It was barely sufficient.
Aiben’s eyes adjusted rapidly to the dimness, partly due to artificial enhancement, partly because they remembered the shadowy depths of the Citadel on Besti. Jerekiel and her guards, native to the environment, moved without effort through the tunnels. Ballis’s gait was uneven as he tried to navigate the potholed darkness. Lev-9’s hydraulics w
hirred unevenly telling Aiben that the mechanoid wasn’t as mobile as usual either.
If they had to defend themselves holed up like this, they would be at a serious disadvantage. Aiben quickly dismissed that thought, though. He was already convinced that Jerekiel and her guards weren’t any threat to them.
Jerekiel broke off their advance after a few hundred feet of down slope and pulled one of her guards aside for a flurry of hand signals.
“Kenejil will take everyone, except Aiben, to find food and rest,” she said. Presently, someone else’s thoughts entered Aiben’s head. Jerekiel echoed the very same words aloud for the group to hear. “And Oromgol tells me the Shelezar is ready to see Aiben now.”
It was clear that the Neilemi’aak couldn’t communicate with specific minds. Either that or they didn’t know how to block him out of their thoughts. That was why Jerekiel and Oromgol hadn’t used shalal hiliz in his presence and why she now used their sign language with Kenejil.
“Are you sure about this, Aiben?” Ballis clamped a thick hand on Aiben’s shoulder. “What do you really know about these people?”
“We won’t leave you unless you explicitly request that we do so,” Lev-9 said.
Neilemi’aak fingers tightened on triggers. Jerekiel must have noticed this, because a terse shake of her head forced her guards to relax. Shaa halama! Jerekiel shot the phrase through the thoughts of Aiben and her guards for good measure. Stand down!
“Aiben?” Ballis questioned, raising both eyebrows.
“I’ll be alright,” Aiben reassured his friends. “Like I said, Shelezar means something like a religious historian.” He glanced over at Jerekiel and she confirmed with a nod. “If anyone can help me find what I came here for, it will be the Shelezar. Go ahead, Ballis, get some food and maybe some sleep if you can. I’m sure you could conserve power for a few hours too, Lev.”