“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.”