“The docents we talked to don’t think so,” Yoponek said. “They say that, for whatever reason, this part of the migration is over for the year.”
“I’m so sorry,” Haplif said, brushing his fingers comfortingly across the side of Yoponek’s head. There was mostly frustration there, mixed with concern, confusion, and more than a bit of relief.
The frustration and confusion were obvious. The concern was probably for Yomie and her disappointment. Was the relief because they could now abandon this whole migration nonsense and go to Celwis?
Time for a gentle probe. “You know, there must also be bird migrations on Celwis,” he pointed out. “Not to mention the waterfalls Shimkif talked about. In fact, with all that water around, it’s likely there would be plenty of birds and animals for Yomie to watch.”
“Maybe,” Yoponek said.
“And while Shimkif and Yomie go see the birds and waterfalls,” Haplif continued, “you and I can contact Councilor Lakuviv. A few hours—half a day at the most—and you’ll rejoin your betrothed having solidified your glorious future with the Coduyo family.”
“That would be wonderful,” Yoponek said wistfully. “But I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.”
“Yoponek?” Yomie’s voice came from down the corridor.
They turned. Yomie was striding toward them, questis in hand, a determined look on her face. “All right, so the Grand Migration is over,” she said, coming to a halt in front of them. “There are two other migrations going on at other sites. We can go see one of them. Maybe both—we’ll have time.”
“Excuse me?” Haplif asked, staring at her. No—she couldn’t be serious.
“You heard me,” she said, swiveling the questis around and holding it up in front of him and Yoponek. “The one along the Panopyl Mountains is closest and it’s supposed to start in two days. If we hurry, we can get a good landing slot before everyone else here figures it out and heads in that direction.”
Yoponek threw Haplif a sideways look. “Yomie, we agreed we were going to Celwis, remember?” he reminded her gently.
“After the Grand Migration.”
“The migration is over.”
“We wrote a month for it into our schedule,” Yomie said firmly. “There are still three weeks left.”
“Yomie, be reasonable—”
“I am being reasonable,” she shot back. “You all want to go talk to some stuffy number-squinter on Celwis? Fine. Leave me here and come get me when you’re done.”
Yoponek tensed, and even without touching him Haplif could see that he was about to say something stupid or irrevocable. Time for a more diplomatic voice to chime in. “Please don’t be angry, Yomie,” he said, using his most soothing tone. “Of course we’re not going to leave you here all alone. But our supply of spices is dwindling, and we need to find somewhere to start a new crop.”
“So start one while we’re watching the birds,” Yomie said. “You said you can get a crop in a couple of weeks.”
“If the soil and climate are suitable,” Haplif said. “The proper combination for that is exceedingly rare. And the mountain climate you’re suggesting won’t work at all.”
“What about these?” she asked, tapping the brooch pinned to her tunic. “You could sell these instead of your spices.”
“The jewelry is more difficult to produce and requires a supply of the metals.”
“But it doesn’t require special dirt or humidity or whatever,” Yomie countered. “What are you saving them for, somebody’s starday?”
Behind his earnest smile, Haplif ground his teeth. He’d known right from the start that giving Yomie that brooch was a bad idea. “They’re only for very special people.”
“Well, then, maybe you should take this one back,” Yomie said, reaching behind the brooch to unfasten the clasp.
“Yomie, that’s not fair,” Yoponek chided.
Yomie hesitated, then lowered her hand. “You’re right,” she said reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Haplif.” She wiggled the questis again at Yoponek. “But you did say we could stay until the migration was over. Can’t we at least go to the Panopyl Mountains for a few days?”
“If it’s this important to you, sure,” Yoponek said. “But it’s not fair to make the Agbui stay here when they need to move on. Maybe it’s time we parted ways.”
“I would hate for our relationship to end in such unpleasantness,” Haplif protested. “Let me make a suggestion. When Shimkif returns, we’ll go to the mountains and see what’s happening with that other migration. At that point we’ll discuss it again, and hopefully come to a mutually acceptable time to travel to Celwis. Is that agreeable?”
“It is to me,” Yoponek said, quiet relief in his voice that they didn’t have to have this out here and now. “Yomie?”
“All right,” Yomie said, a bit more reluctantly, probably realizing that Haplif’s proposal was still only half a victory. “Where did Shimkif go?”
“I don’t know,” Haplif said with complete honesty. “But I’m sure she’ll be back soon. There’s food in the salon if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you,” Yoponek said. “Come on, Yomie. You can tell me about these other migrations while we eat.”
Three hours later, Shimkif finally returned. “Are they back?” she asked as she walked into Haplif’s room.
“Yes, a few hours ago,” he said. Her clothing was stained with dirt, perspiration, and something that looked like plant residue, but she was clearly very satisfied with herself. “I understand the Grand Migration has moved. How did you pull that off?”
“Quite easily, actually,” she said, dropping her backpack on the deck and lowering herself gingerly into one of the chairs. “I poisoned some of the areas—not lethally, just enough to make the birds sick—so they would avoid them. Then I captured some other birds and took them to an area where I’d laid in extra food supplies. Once both groups passed the word to the other birds—however the Chaos they do that—enough of the flocks shifted location that the whole thing was thrown off balance.”
Haplif nodded. “Nice.”
“I thought so,” Shimkif said “We gearing up to leave?”
“Small problem,” Haplif said, scowling. “Yomie’s found another migration halfway around the planet she wants to go to.”
Shimkif’s forehead skin crinkled. “What?” she asked, her voice suddenly gone still and ominous.
“You heard me,” Haplif said. “At the moment, I’ve only promised we’ll go for a couple of days before we reopen the Celwis discussion. I assume your trick will work as well there as it did here?”
“You assume wrong,” Shimkif growled. “The Grand Migration is well documented, and I had time on the way here to work out the details on the birds and their feeding habits. Not a chance I can do it again on the fly.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Haplif said, glowering. “Well, then, we’ll have to come up with some other way to stop it.”
“Yes,” Shimkif said, her voice grim and thoughtful. “I suppose we will.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Yes, Lakbulbup, I realize it’s early morning there,” Lakphro said patiently into the house comm. “It’s not exactly prime talking time here, either.”
“What time is—? Oh, I see,” Lakbulbup said, and Lakphro could visualize his cousin’s familiar squint as he peered at his display’s readouts. “Why in the world are you calling at this hour?”
“I need a favor,” Lakphro said, making sure to keep his voice low. “I’m calling now because Lakansu and Lakris are still asleep, and I don’t want either of them to know about it.”