Seven

Tarlain felt he was finally ready. All that he needed for now was packed. The rest could be acquired, one way or another throughout the weeks to come, or however long it might take. His father had merely banned him from the Principate; he still had access to the resources of the Guild of Welfare, and he was sure Karnav Din Baltir would assist him; as long as the Guildmaster hadn't been turned, but he simply couldn't believe it of his old friend and mentor.

He crossed to his private screen and called up the mail program. Quickly, he tapped out a message to the Guildmaster. The note contained one word: Bortruz. He hit send, set his password, then shut down the screen, gave his chambers one last look before grabbing the bag he had filled with the few things he was taking with him. If he made a quick exit now, there'd be no chance that Men Darnak would suddenly have another stray thought and stop him. He could trust Din Baltir enough not to give away his intended destination, but the quicker he moved, the safer that decision would be.

Shouldering his bag, he strode rapidly down the corridor leading out to the parking area. He walked quickly across the broad stone slabs set in even rows across the courtyard to where his own private groundcar sat, rarely used. The low, sleek vehicle, one of the more recent designs, blended with the drab stone coloring of the walls and the ground, fading into the background even more now that the Minor Twin's light smudged the edges of vision. He'd chosen the color purposely; something that would not attract too much attention. The surrounding vehicles were bright — yellows, greens — except for the standard issue whites and the more formal official black of the Principate. He scanned the parking lot before opening the door and tossing his bag into the back. Not a soul. That was good. Of course, there’d be records on the security monitors, but it should be some time before anyone got around to checking them, if they even bothered.

He clambered into the driver's seat and waited for the door to slide shut before tapping the ignition pad. It was risky this close to Storm Season, but it was more than a mere recreational vehicle this one. Tarlain had had one or two extra features added to the mix some time ago. A contact inside Technologists had helped him.

Checking that there was still no one around, he slid the groundcar out of the lot and headed away from Yarik’s center toward the plateau's escarpment and the winding road leading down to the valley floor below. Letting the vehicle accelerate to more than was normally polite in the city environs, he whisked down the main streets, only slowing for the occasional groundcar or stray pedestrian. The quake they'd experienced at Roge's reception had been the first real sign of the approaching Storm Season, and after an indicator like that, most of Yarik's population would be off preparing for the upcoming trials of the season ahead. The unpredictability of the Twin's cycles meant that the seasonal change was also hard to foretell, and despite the clues, despite the fading light, the gradual consumption of the Major Twin's disk by its darker sibling, you could never quite predict when it was finally going to happen for real.

He was quickly through the city proper and out onto the flat expanse of rock-strewn landscape that led off to the precipice. He whisked across the stony ground, steering for the funneled depression that dipped into the broad winding highway snaking down from Yarik plateau. He slowed cautiously as he neared, wary of other traffic. There was a notorious blind spot near the lip. There should be no foot travelers or animals just yet, but an ascending groundcar was as much of a risk. Gently he maneuvered the car into the gap and headed down the first expanse of smooth well-traveled road. The cliff dropped away sharply at the edge, and down below, far, far below, the road trailed back and forth to the valley floor. The first gentle incline ended in a sharp bend, turning the broad expanse of road back on itself, increasing the gradient to the next section. Instead of slowing, Tarlain accelerated toward the bend. Just before he should have turned, he tapped a quick sequence on the controls and his groundcar launched into empty space. Though he'd done this several times before, the thrill still rose inside him with a rush. Over the edge! He restrained the customary whoop, and bit his lip as the cliffside rushed by outside, bare crags with hardy clumps of vegetation forcing their way through the cracks. If ever he misjudged the leap, he'd be dashed against those crags to tumble the thousands of feet to the valley floor below. Not a pretty thought.

The groundcar's ability was actually quite limited, but it was enough to sustain a controlled descent down the long drop to the level ground far beneath. More than anything, the enhancements provided him with a release, an escape from the day-to-day enclosure of structured life within the Principate. Just occasionally, he needed to get out, to let off the contained frustrations he felt. With no one to see him acting the fool, he could find that escape. He sat, encapsulated in his own private space, watching but not really seeing the crags above, the expanse of checkered fields below, untouchable, removed from all of it.

Tarlain monitored his descent, scanning the road below, the top of the cliffs and keeping an eye on his progress. First, there was the cushioned descent, and then, when he reached the valley floor, and after a lengthy drive, Bortruz. Bortruz was little more than a mining settlement. It wasn't a town you could call a town as such, but a healthy Kallathik community nestled nearby, and that suited his purposes. For now. He'd spent a lot of time with the Kallathik over the past few months, and he was almost starting to feel at home in their midst, unlike most of the other Guild Members. They were a complex race and there was a lot yet left to learn about their ways. Bortruz, owned and controlled by the Guild of Primary Production, had been since it was established, but he didn't think that would provide any threat to his plans. Welfare had its place there too, and Guildmaster Din Baltir was as familiar with the site and with the large Kallathik population that worked the mines proper as Tarlain himself was. Karnav had had years longer to explore. The Guildmaster would know where to look when the time came.

As the groundcar met the roadway at the cliff base, he tapped the controls to resume normal function. A quick glance up and behind and he was satisfied that there would be no one to follow. He tapped in his destination and settled back to watch the changing countryside roll past. The landscape around Yarik's base was peppered with smallholdings — farmers who could not afford the lengthy transportation costs of Storm Season but could still eke out a living during Clear by supplying the city above. The further away from Yarik, the fewer of these small farming plots there were, and as he passed through the scattered farms, the surrounding country quickly made way for wide rolling fields, used mainly for grazing. The long expanse of dun-colored road ran unchanged throughout. This route was well traveled and accordingly was kept well maintained. Come Storm Season, and there'd be some deterioration and sporadic quake damage, but there were road crews to deal with that, often made up of the groups of itinerant workers who roamed the land during Storm Season looking for whatever employment they could get.

Gradually, open flats replaced grazing land, and the richer vegetation faded. Already the Clear Season grasses were starting to die off and grow patchy as the Minor Twin gained dominance. Soon the ground would be dotted with squat ugly broad-leafed plants trapping as much as possible of the weaker light. He hated this time of dying, this half life that sat between. Storm Season was hard enough, but this semi-existence, this place where neither one thing nor the other held sway seemed much worse to Tarlain’s mind.

His groundcar kept to the major route for about half an hour more before performing a swift turn, then heading up a lesser-used side road. It would be at least another hour before he reached his destination, so Tarlain settled back in his seat to doze. The events of the last few hours had taken their toll.

He awoke blearily to insistent chiming from the control panel. He ran a hand over his face, rubbed his eyes, and leaned forward to scan the surrounding area, large sandy mounds marring the otherwise smooth landscape. The leavings from the mines lay everywhere. Small humped hills, the result of earlier Kallathik activity, were interspersed with vast, unstable cliffs, the result of the more directed efforts of Primary Production. Waterfall-like slides made tracks in the smooth surfaces where the top layers had slipped, leaving small piles at their bases. Narrow roadways ran in and between these artificial outcroppings. Fully alert now, he gave it five minutes more, then, adjudging he was close enough to Bortruz proper, tapped at the controls to slow the groundcar. He didn't want to go right into the mining settlement itself. He was known there, and he didn’t want to make his presence known quite yet. Somehow, he held some vague hope that his father might reconsider and send someone to look for him, but should that happen, he didn’t want to be simply found, just sitting there waiting.

Spying a likely track, he headed the groundcar around and between two large piles of sandy stone. These service tracks would be little used in this time between seasons and he should be able to leave the groundcar well out of sight, but still where he could find it for the next few days. Within the next couple of weeks it would become virtually useless anyway, unstable. He spotted a small side branch, headed down it and stopped. A quick assessment confirmed that the nearby mounds looked solid and low enough that they might survive anything but the worst quake activity. He stepped out, reached into the back to grab his bag, hit the locking sequence and left the groundcar, intending to walk the rest of the way to the Kallathik settlement.

Heading back to the main roadway on foot, he glanced back once or twice to make sure that the spot he had chosen was truly invisible to casual observation. For now, it would do. He'd get Kallathik assistance to relocate the vehicle somewhere more secure through the approaching Season, but first he had to decide his next steps, wait for Karnav Din Baltir to contact him, and then... he wasn't sure.

He hefted his bag on his shoulder and started the long trudge to the Kallathik burrows. There was a fluttering inside his guts, a sense of unease, as if he were on the edge of falling. Every few steps, he would think he had it under control, then, as soon as he stopped thinking about it, the feeling would return. He tried to force it from his mind and concentrate on getting to his destination. It took him a few minutes to reach the main road and he scanned his surroundings to get his bearings. He glanced up at the twin suns, shielding his eyes, thankful that the sky was still clear. Bortruz lay that way, to the east. If he continued across the road and through, bearing at a slight angle, it would take him to the edges of the Kallathik settlement, at least close enough to find his way there anyway. Then, all he had to do was wait.

He crossed the road and threaded his way through further hummocks, frowning as he was struck by a moment of doubt. What if Din Baltir failed to understand the message he'd left? What if the man was truly more concerned with the Guild's functioning? What if...no, there were too many uncertainties at the moment. What was the worst thing that could happen? That he could be left to wait out Storm Season among the Kallathik? Would that be such a bad thing? He'd be left on the periphery, unable to influence the course of events, but there would be time. And if it came to that, he would learn so much. Kallathik life, Kallathik society was still something of a mystery, even after their co-existence for so many years. As long as the Kallathik continued to work the mines and maintain their involvement in the more onerous tasks of Primary Production, then the Guild hierarchy didn't really care. It didn't matter now, but as long as Tarlain spent time here with them, he could learn, understand, and that would be valuable in the long run, one way or another.

The first totem appeared a few minutes after leaving the main roadway. Tarlain dropped his bag and stood looking at it, his fists on his hips. Twice his height, it was thick at the base, carved from one solid piece of an ajura trunk. Firmly planted alone in the middle of a flat piece of ground it stood as a sentinel to the borders of Kallathik territory. He wondered briefly how the Kallathik themselves saw it. To him, it was merely a detailed likeness of a single Kallathik, nothing to distinguish it from the rest of their race. If it bore an expression, there was nothing there to give Tarlain any clue to what it might be. Its twin sets of arms were clasped in front of the thick rounded torso. The two sets of eyes, deeply set beneath the flat skulled brow ridge, were highlighted with gems of different colors fixed into the dark, hard wood. He ran his fingers back through his hair, peering up at the powerfully jawed face. Ajura wood was prized for its hardness, its resilience, but to work it to such detail could not be easy. He didn’t even know what tools the Kallathik might use to do it.

“Well, my friend,” he said. “Perhaps we can do something together now.”

The totem stared impassively into the distance. With a sigh, Tarlain stooped to retrieve his bag and walked on by, trailing his fingers over the finely carved scales, feeling their ridged smoothness as he passed.

He came across other totems, some smaller, some larger, the frequency of their placement telling him he was getting closer. The ground rose gently, traces of the mine workings becoming fewer and being gradually replaced by scant vegetation and the occasional Kallathik trail. Plain gave way to hill and small humped rocky outcroppings. Tarlain headed up the hillside, knowing he was close. At the top of the path he followed, another totem slipped into view. He merely glanced at it, but then, something, some sense, drew a second look, and with a start, he realized that this wasn't a totem at all, but one of the Kallathik themselves. It stood so immobile that it was hard to tell. Clearly, it was watching his approach, but it gave no sign, not a single movement to indicate anything other than a passive uninterested observation. Tarlain stopped, dropped the bag from his shoulder and raised a hand. For several seconds, the Kallathik did nothing, then finally, at last, it opened its arms in greeting. Tarlain nodded and smiled despite knowing the gesture would be lost on the creature standing above him. He retrieved his bag from where it lay at his feet and headed on up the hill.

The waiting Kallathik turned with his approach, heading back up the rise and over. Despite its slow gait, Tarlain had to hurry to catch up. The Kallathik lumbered on its squat rear legs, the supporting tail leaving a trail through the grasses. Tarlain quickened his pace until he drew alongside, looking up at its dark gray-brown face, trying to make contact and get the creature's attention. Finally he spoke.

“I am Tarlain Men Darnak, from the Guild of Welfare,” he said.

The Kallathik hesitated and turned its head slightly to face him, looking down from a height half as tall as Tarlain again. That brief pause, the brief inclination of its body was all he got before the Kallathik turned back and continued on its path. All right, Tarlain thought to himself. There may have been recognition, there may not. They seemed to understand human speech, but what sense it made to them he had no real idea. He might have spent actual time in the past with this very same Kallathik but he would have no way of knowing. With their habitual impassive responses, he doubted that the Kallathik itself would care whether he had or not. They seemed to pay scant attention to the human population moving amongst them.

Together, they crested the rise and the ground dropped away gently to a slight hollow. More Kallathik stood below, either lumbering slowly from one place to another, or standing, totem-like staring into nothing. Further up, across the next rise, lay the entrance to their settlement proper. A group clustered around the wide cave mouth, signing to each other with their twinned arms. As Tarlain and his companion hove into view and walked down the approaching hill, nothing changed in their position. He watched carefully, looking for any sign of recognition. Abruptly, his companion stopped. Tarlain looked up, but the Kallathik was staring across the intervening space toward the large entrance doing nothing. Finally, it lifted one arm, clacked the sides of its jawbones together in a movement Tarlain knew indicated an exclamation, gestured in the direction of the cave mouth and then turned, heading back up the hill from where they had come. Tarlain took the creature’s meaning and continued down across the small valley’s floor and up the other side.

Five Kallathik stood together at the entrance. Inside, Tarlain knew, the complex continued deep into the hill, branching and re-branching, opening into vast hollow chambers where the settlement continued its daily life. Somewhere deeper inside lay one or two smaller chambers fitted out for human habitation, built not long after human and Kallathik had begun working together. They were away from the main complex, far enough away from the continuing noise and scents of Kallathik daily life to make them livable, barely. Mostly, visitors from the Guild of Welfare used them, though in earlier times, they were constructed specifically for Primary Production. Nowadays, Primary Production had little use for them: the task of Kallathik liaison had since fallen to others. Tarlain stood and waited patiently until the Kallathik were ready to acknowledge his presence. It took a few moments. Eventually, one of them turned and gestured a query with its upper pair of arms.

“I am Tarlain Men Darnak, from the Guild of Welfare,” he repeated.

A pause, and then, “Elcome,” a slow barely comprehensible burr coming from where the Kallathik's throat would be if it had one. Over the years, the Kallathik had learned to constrict some of their chest muscles to approximate human speech. It took practice, but with time, you could learn to understand what they were saying. Augmented by knowledge of their gestures and signings, it was possible, almost, to carry on proper communication. Teaching of their signings was a standard part of Guild of Welfare training, but it could never replace the experience of learning first hand. It was different from listening to a recording of their sounds or being taught by a human trying to approximate the sounds that buzzed from the Kallathik frame.

“I need to use the living spaces,” said Tarlain. “I also need to speak with the heads of this sept.”

The Kallathik signed assent, and shuffled away from its companions, giving a set of complex gestures that escaped Tarlain's understanding. The remaining four Kallathik stood where they were. Another set of signings passed between two of them, and as a whole, the group lifted their tail sections, rattling the scales with a rapid shaking — a gesture that Tarlain knew indicated amusement. He wondered what had passed between them. Well, let them be amused. They'd be less happy when the changes about to sweep through the Principate touched them properly. Roge had very little time for the Kallathik. So, let his brother do what he might, he thought grimly. It would not be without resistance. Not now that he was here. He would put this right, no matter what Roge chose to do.

With the resolution still echoing in his thoughts, Tarlain shouldered his belongings and followed the Kallathik that had broken from its group, past the deep cave mouth and into the depths of the complex beyond.

The metal-shod walls led into gloom. Shafts of light punctuated the darkness further down the tunnel where the Kallathik had worked ventilation and light holes to the surface. They didn't need much light, but they couldn’t operate in total darkness either. Tarlain peered along the passage length, trying in vain to make out any real details. He'd been in this complex a number of times before, but blank walls and absence of light made it hard for him to maintain any sense of direction. Scraping noises echoed up the tunnel, speaking of Kallathik movement deeper within, further confusing the sense of direction and location. Their scaly forms brushed against the metal walls as they passed through the complex, and the sound carried for long distances, distorted by the smooth hard surfaces. Over the sound ran an eerie moan, almost like a sigh as the breeze above funneled across the tops of the ventilation shafts.

He didn't know how many lived within this particular burrow, but it must be several hundred. His companion shuffled along in no particular hurry. Everything the Kallathik did was at a leisurely pace, partly necessitated by their bulk, but partially because they never seemed to be in a hurry to do anything. Right in the middle of doing something, they might simply stop, adopt the rest stance with their arms crossed over their chests and barely move, the only indication of life being the gentle in and out movement of their sides showing they were breathing. Tarlain had ceased puzzling about that a long time ago. It simply was. It could be a source of immense frustration, especially in the middle of a conversation, but after a time, you made allowances; you had to recognize that the humans functioned at an entirely different pace.

Their progress down the main tunnel continued, passing several intersections and sinkholes until they reached a major junction. A number of tunnels led off in various directions, and noises drifted up from each, melding into a confused undercurrent of sounds. Here, deeper into the burrow, the smell was more pungent and Tarlain wrinkled his nose. He would become desensitized to their scents after a few hours, he knew, but for the moment the sharp tang caught at his nostrils, making his eyes water.

His guide had stopped. Tarlain stood where he was and dabbed at his eyes with one sleeve as he waited, hoping the Kallathik had not gone into thought mode. Finally, it gestured down one of the adjoining passages and headed that way. This passageway was smaller, the roof almost touching the Kallathik's broad flat head as the tunnel wound deeper into the hillside. Fewer light shafts marked the way, and though his eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom, he still had to strain to see. They passed a number of smaller alcoves set into the tunnel walls, and within one or two, he sensed movement. There were Kallathik here, shifting vastly in the darkness as they passed. He wondered if he smelled as strange to them as they did to him. Were they disturbed by his alien presence, by his passing scent? Did they recognize the human taint upon the air? Their interspecies communication wasn't advanced enough that he'd ever really know.

At last, they reached the small chambers set aside for human use. Tarlain ducked inside one, fumbled around for the light and switched it on. Its battery would keep it alive for several hours, but he didn't want to waste it, so he dropped his bag on the small cot, found the fuel lamp and lit it before turning off the other one. These small cells were relatively close to the entrance, giving him some real idea of the true vastness of the complex. His guide had already disappeared, scraping off along the passageway outside. Tarlain hoped it had gone to inform the sept leaders. If not, he was in for a long wait. Dealing with the Kallathik eventually taught patience. It had to.

Sitting on the edge of the rude cot, he settled in to wait, hoping that his guide was focused enough to bear the message to the right place. All around him, the noises of the burrow's other inhabitants continued unabated, echoing through the dimness, punctuated by the resonant low moaning wind filtering down the passageways. Tarlain shivered and shook his head. He cursed himself for not having had the foresight to bring something as simple as a book reader, at least something to occupy his mind.

Chapter Eight