Ilaцrn dropped to his knees,, closed his hands into fists, and shook for a while. Then he pulled himself together and dipped up a dipper of water from the stream, moistened the soil with it, and began the delicate process of shifting the clump of kolkrais from the container to its new home.
“Doesn’t look like much.” Hunnar was back, standing on the far side of the stream watching him work.
“O Ykkuval, it will take a while for it to make itself at home here.”
“Ta’ma, ground grubbing isn’t my business.”
“No, O Ykkuval. You have much more on your mind than a miserable little weed.”
“Mp. You don’t know how true that is.” He began pacing back and forth along the path with its careful arrangement of flat stones, back and forth, his head tilted up so he was looking at the sky, not where he walked or at Ilaцrn even though he made a pretense of talking to him.
Eat5rn eased the bits of moss beneath the lowest layer of the kolkrais, pressed it into the soil and poured more water on it. The moss would hold the moisture and keep the plant’s roots happy until they’d tapped their own source of nutriment. This wasn’t the first time Hunnar had used him as a sounding board. From what he’d seen of Chav life, the Ykkuval wouldn’t dare talk like this to any of his own kind; it would be a weakness that they’d seize on and use to unseat him. Able to trust no one. Didn’t even have a wife to share his ambitions, at least, not here, not yet. I’m his wife for the hiatus, I suppose. He and I both know if I open my mouth about this, I’m dead. He dipped up more water, splashed across the kolkrais clump to wash the grains of earth away.
“They don’t know, they don’t know, they spend thousands on com calls to chew me out for wasting time and money. Get rid of the Yaraka, they tell me, but don’t you embarrass us, don’t get caught with your hands sticky. When I ask what do they want me to do, they say that’s your business not ours. When are you going to start shipments coming back to us, that’s what we want to know. We’ve got commitments. We need product. We’ll give you six more months, then expenses start coming out of your pockets. Hah! They foist that moron with the wide mouth on me, that Genree. Taner! What a lackwit. I’d like to do to him what they’re doing to me, I’d like to say get your bolgyet together so you can face a real inspection or I’ll fine your ass till you scream mercy. I’d like to, but I can’t. His mother is Gatyr ni Jilet’s sister and his sister is about to marry Tothar ni Koroumak. Cut my own throat if I tried it. I’ve got to do something, can’t get product with half the plant down. Wall him off somehow, get him too busy to interfere…”
Ilaцrn let the spate of words flow over him, nodding and making small listening sounds as he moved along the stream bank, setting out the plants he’d brought back with him. Nothing useful in all that glagairh, nothing he hadn’t known before. Old men, he thought. Donor didn’t tell me, but I know. A gaggle of old men plotting war. He lifted the last plant from its container, purple delk, a young one with a small single bulb, washed the dirt from its roots and settled it in its hole, tamping the dirt around it with gentle taps from his thumbs.
Hunnar paced on, spewing his anger and frustration, his ambitions and annoyances, Ilaцrn kept on murmuring encouraging noises and paying no attention to the words, shifting to make work when he finished the transplanting, pinching off dead leaves, stirring the ground to get air to the roots; he didn’t dare leave the stream bed or just squat there doing nothing.
“… and now there’s this lot from University, cinsing prynoses interfering, if this thing with the jellies gets out…” The voice stopped. Suddenly.
Ilaцrn looked up.
Hunnar was across the stream from hint, scowling at him. It wasn’t anger, the Chav’s inner lids weren’t down, his eyes were shadowed and dull.
Ilaцrn met those eyes briefly, then dropped his own. Chav reacted violently and without waiting for thought to a challenging stare even from one of their own. From a local like him, it was an invitation to a broken neck. Early days, before Hunnar had planted hooks in his head, when he was reaching out of grief for defiance, he’d earned himself broken ribs, a broken shoulder blade, and twice a concussion. Like a gath trained to bark and not-bark on command, he’d learned his lesson well.
“You won’t talk about that,” Hunnar said. “Not to Chav, not to anyone. Be sure I’ll find out if you do.”
“I have already forgotten, O Ykkuval.”
“Hm.” After a long Blistery stare, his inner lids drew back. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Those husks. Just what is the effect of that smoke?”
Ilaцrn’s mind skittered frantically as he fought to keep his face dull and incurious, to show no interest in what lay behind the question. Chel Di’s Thousand
Eyes, what do I do. WHAT DO I DO! If Hunnar really wanted the information, he could get it despite anything Ilaцrn tried and he might pull out more…
“O Ykkuval, I’m not sure I know what you want.”
“Your lot, not those vegheads, what does it do to them? You have anyone who gets a taste for that smoke?”
“I drank smoke when I was just become a man. There were reasons for it. You could call it a religious thing.” He closed his eyes. I’m not talking to him, but to you, sioll Imuл, to your spirit wherever it is. “I have not done it since,” he said aloud, “but I can remember the sweetness of that day, I can remember my senses expanding to embrace all of earth and sky and everything between. An angi’s song was… ah… bright and piercing to my ears as its jewel colors were to my eyes. I could hear grass growing and the sap rising in the trees. I have had other pleasures since, but none that quite equals that.” He opened his eyes. “And many of the aroch… that is, those who tend the Sleepers… they live year round at the Sleeping Grounds because they can’t be without the smoke or they suffer. But how drinking smoke would affect a Chav, I have no idea. You’d have to test it.”
Ilaцrn stared at the water, wondering if the probe was going to be used on him to confirm what he said; a mix of terror and pleasure drenched his body and he couldn’t have moved just then if Hunnar was whipping him.
After a long silence, he looked up.
Hunnar was gone.
6. Journey’s Beginning
1
Yawning and still half-asleep after two nights of disturbing dreams, Shadith carried her harp and gear from the room assigned to her and stood in the arcade outside, shadows from the vine leaves flickering across her face. It was a hot day, damp and sticky; sweat stayed on the skin and breathing brought a load of insects, plant spores, and a whole stewpot of smells, ranging from the oversweet perfume of the fruits on the trees in the next field over to the acrid bite of pony urine.
Peaceful. She looked up. Through the vines she could see a flikit circling overhead. Protection or spy? She clicked her tongue. Probably both. Koraka may be a slickery slider, but he’s not stupid. I wonder if I am. Stupid. Staying here. At least I’m walking in with my eyes open this time, not falling through a hole.
Followed by a line of ‘bots like ducklings waddling after their mother and a hoard of curious children, Aslan, Duncan Shears, and Marrin Ola went down another shady walk toward the tech rooms at the back of the blai, going to log in before mapping and collecting began. Better them than me. She sighed. Well, chatting to a lot of odd-shaped politicians isn’t that much more interesting. At least there’ll be music. I can live with that.
She rubbed at the hawk etching, distressed because the passion she’d felt only two days ago was draining from her, leaving her cold and dim again. Restless. Even thinking about the murdered Eolt only wakened an echo of feeling in her. She sighed. And this business of the cross-country trek on ponies wasn’t helping. Stupid, the Eolt not letting the Goлs send them in a