Chapter Thirty-One of my current wip. As before, all and any comments very much appreciated
Please note: This is a weekly post
Why, when there were no doors, had the Fire-keepers urged him to keep the doors open? The Tech-killing zem had urged him the same. Yet there weren’t any, so how had he opened them? No, no, he hadn’t, he wouldn’t, not ever. But somehow those doors had opened, and let that horror in.
He thrashed his body, he rocked his head. You must have. I didn’t. Then how? You know how – that horror has always been there.
Not always it hasn’t.
He had tried to close it. Just the one, not the many. He had tried. He had tugged and pulled on that screen, but the screen wouldn’t seal off the cave.
Ah, the cave. With that light… Was it the sun or a smile? A smile, a huge great smile, sparkling in the glint of those gems.
You shouldn’t have entered. Bad, bad Canipse. Greedy Canipse. And now he couldn’t pull down the door, couldn’t seal the cave, couldn’t keep the unstoppable horror out.
Red Pendol Demon, black striped. Black Pendol Demon, red striped. Red, red striped like a beast skinned for the kitchen, like the beast they brought him telling him to prepare it.
No, that’s my sister. Sister, sister, how sister when she hasn’t her head? The horror has it – he’s seen it – held like a milk-mother suckling a babe.
But the Fire-keepers had said not to think it.
The Techs had taken her head. Taken it and hidden it. But hidden where? Here, in the psi-sphere? Or in Pendolsphere amongst the Pendoling Demons? Red demons, black demons. Demons, chasing, always pursuing, never leaving, swarming the psi-sphere, he had to get out.
He was standing on a beam, unable to move. Please, he pleaded, please let me in. Let you in where, in the psi-sphere? No, never there. Psi-sphere’s swarming with Pendol’s unstoppable demons, her head in their clutches.
Mustn’t lose balance, unable to move, how to get out? I don’t want to see my memories no more. It’s not me keeping them alive, it’s not. My Cally, dead. Skinned. Sent to the kitchen as meat for the workers at the Dreek mine. I want to leave, I want to be free.
But I have to keep her alive.
Got to get out.
Losing balance, losing it now.
What if I fall?
Will I ever forget?
*
Jess and Armar were taking their breakfast, not scrambled eggs for a change, not now Mavlin was the overseer. Some kind of grain, seed and nut concoction with a sprinkle of fruit. Tasty. Filling. Easy on the belly.
Canipse burst through the hive door. “I want to leave, you can’t keep me here. You’re not a Tech to control me.”
“Calm down,” Armar said while Jess was still dealing with a mouthful of grain-and-seed breakfast. “It’s good to see you’ve recovered.”
“I escaped.” Canipse beamed with glee. He nodded as if to drive that message home. “And now I’m escaping this basecamp too. And this clutch.”
“And where will you go?” Jess didn’t want to discourage the overseer, life on the base would be quieter without him. But ultimately, without the Techs, Jess was responsible for every member of his team.
Canipse waved his arm in a vague northerly direction. “The next clutch along.”
“I’d say Clutch Seven would be the easiest reached. You’ll like it there. Zem Danipe is as much a Tech-lover as you. Do you know the way? I can download a map for you. From the psi-sphere. You might like to equip yourself with sturdy weapons—”
“I’ve my stunner.” Canipse no longer sounded so bold.
“I’d advise you take Itamakku type weapons too,” Armar said. “Those stunners only hold charge enough for a few shots, thereafter they need to be charged. Can you do that?”
“Are you happy now to enter the psi-sphere?” Jess asked.
Canipse wandered, loose-limbed, around the hive’s front cell.
“Well?” Jess prompted.
“I’ll get sticks – I’ll get…sticks.”
“Fine. You’ll need water. Oh, and best ask the textiles team for some warmer clothes. You’re going north, there’s ice up there. You might ask them too for a sheet or a blanket to serve as a shelter. You’re sure you want to do this?”
Although Canipse still aimlessly wandered that front section of hive, he was no longer loose-limbed. Now his movements were erratic, lacking rhythm, anything but smooth.
“You stay here and talk with Armar,” Jess said. “I’ll fetch you the map.”
Jess hoped Armar had caught on to what he was doing. His deputy always said he liked an untroubled environment. Best go along with the troublesome Canipse, best let him find out for himself. Sooner or later, he’d be back and maybe then better behaved.
At every briefing Jess had listened to the same set of rules. Non-degradable wares were not allowed planet-side. But that only applied to the Monza members of the GM Programme. The Techs had several items that weren’t allowed the Monza. One was a printer, psi-powered. Why the Techs believed the Monza couldn’t operate anything psi-powered Jess couldn’t figure. Blindness, he supposed. For if Jess was right in his supposition every Monza member of the Programme had undergone some form of counselling on Colabri, most of which involved the use of the psi-sphere. But Jess wasn’t inclined to fret on that now. He accessed the map, adjusted the scale to ensure Clutch Seven would appear to be an extremely long way away, and printed it on paper from the reams the Techs stored out of sight.
Armar was alone when he returned to their hive.
“He changed his mind?”
Armar snorted, a sideways glance at Jess. “Gathering his gear.”
“He’s going to be heavily laden.”
“And now you’re changing your mind,” Armar said.
No, he wasn’t. “I’ll have a flier out once a day to follow his movements. Make sure he’s not in difficulty. Bring him back when he’s ready.”
“I’m ready,” Canipse said from the hive’s open door.
Had he heard what Jess had just said?
“Here’s the map.” He spread it out on the low table in front of the low padded seat. “Here’s Clutch Six. There is Clutch Seven. Think you can walk that far?”
Canipse scoffed. “No problem. Easy.”
Jess pointed to a spot a speck away from their base. “This is Hive Eight. Gives you a sense of distance.”
Canipse’s swallow was audible.
“I’m thinking, all being well, it ought to take you… what’d you say, Armar? Thirty moon cycles?”
Armar peered at the map over Jess’s shoulder. “Always the jester, our Zem Jess. Thirty? Never. I’d say more like fifty.”
“Well, there you are, Canipse. Fifty moon cycles. And so far we’ve been here just the one cycle. You need to call in on the textile team before you go. Remember, warm clothes and something light to carry to serve as shelter. We don’t need to worry about you feeding yourself.” He grinned, and it slid into a chuckle. “You’re the most experienced here.”
Jess turned to Armar, his back dismissively to Canipse. “It’s rather sad, isn’t it. I’ve never said goodbye to one before – unless it was when the lander came to take us back.”
“How long do you give him?” Armar asked after Canipse, all full of bravado, had left.
“I’d say, maybe six, seven days. He’s used to being beyond the perimeter – he goes out hunting stones, and before he was made overseer he’d probably done his stint at foraging. But I am concerned about the beasts he’ll encounter. Those cats…and not even the boars are friendly. Then there are spiders. And various dragons – the slitherers and biters. And have you seen the size of those forest cattle? But so long as he stays away from the coast – and maybe the rivers – he’ll have no trouble with bigger dragons.”
*
Jess provided maps for the observers to mark their sightings of Canipse. Now Jess himself included a detour to Skein Two’s northern boundary. The original observers here had been Zeke, with Shelek and Saker, but without the Techs, and with more of the clutch able to control the fliers, the schedules now were more flexible. He snorted wry amusement when he sighted the green speck that was Canipse. It had taken the former overseer two full days to reach Hive Eight. Though to be fair, he’d probably detoured to Hive Seven to sort out warmer clothes. Jess hadn’t told Canipse precisely how cold it would be should he ever reach destination, but he remembered the images shown at the briefing – of heaped-up glaciers forming great walls of ice.
The following day Zeke reported seeing Canipse outside the breed-pool’s range and into Banmakka territory where Zeke had been distributing sacks of tubers.
“I’m wondering the true range of those fliers,” Jess said when Kookka joined him and Armar in their hive that evening. “Zeke goes outside our range, and back. Might it be possible to go even further?”
“Depends,” Kookka said. “How long can we remain in contact with the psi-sphere before exhaustion wipes us?”
“You’ll find out soon enough if you’re to keep track of Canipse.”
That Armar put the onus of keeping track of Canipse onto Jess, alone, and not the observers didn’t go unnoticed. But that was fair, he was the zem. He squirted more of Saker’s brew down his throat before answering, “Yea, but he won’t go all the way to Clutch Seven.”
Kookka reached for the bladder. “Want me to try?”
Jess studied Kookka. Was that a genuine offer? But he didn’t want Kookka flying anywhere close to the Techs of a distant clutch.
“I can take Joel with me. Take it in turns. One rests while the other controls.”
Jess looked to Armar for his opinion. Armar held up his hands. “You’re the zem. But I will ask the purpose – apart from being assured you can keep track on Canipse.”
Jess ignored Arnar’s question and answered Kookka instead. “Not tomorrow. Day after, if we still need to track him.”
“Day after, regardless,” Kookka said, and when Armar opened his mouth, hand out to object, he added, “The purpose? Because we never know when we might need that information.” He turned enough to see Jess, who sat beside him.
Jess knew what he meant. He nodded. “Day after tomorrow. I’ll print off another map. But you’re not to get within range – hear what I’m saying?”
“I hear too, Zem Jess,” Armar cut in. “You don’t want the Techs alerted. I’m not sure whether I approve or not. But I’m sure, as the zem, you’ve taken all aspects of our situation into consideration. Just be aware, this is your decision. If any should die because of it…”
Jess ignored Armar and studied the map on the low table in front of them. He’d already marked off the distance Zeke had flown that day. So double it. And double it again. That would take Kookka and Joel halfway to Clutch Seven. That should be a safe distance.
“Four days out. Four days back.” He then thought. “Make sure you take plenty of food and drink. And psi-lights.”
“And my harp,” Kookka said. “And I’ll get Joel to compose a song for us while we’re away.”
“You make light of it.” But Jess knew that was Kookka’s way. For himself, his chest felt home to a heavy stone. Yet if by taking turns in the psi-sphere they could travel any distance in those fliers, then this could indeed be the place.
*
Jess couldn’t settle while Kookka was away. By day his focus skipped and wove around the needs of the clutch, and the observations, and what was happening amongst the skeins. It was so easy to forget them what with everything erupting amongst his team – though receiving reports of dow-meetings, their females dominating, the celebration following a birth, was hardly enough to hold his attention. By night, in the hope of numbing his thoughts as well as his mouth, Jess eagerly imbibed Saker’s latest batch of experimental brews. But that only resulted in a head that was more like a drum the next morning.
Then in addition to his other concerns, there was Kookka and their long-held commitment. Maybe Kookka was right and this was the place. If they had freedom of range with those fliers…but what then of Cela-Byi?
His guilt at abandoning Cela-Byi in that cave took him down to the worse Pendoling Pit. He sweated and gnawed on his first finger’s knuckle. But what could he do? Besides, he was probably fretting unnecessarily; she’d probably returned to her dow. Returned in disgrace because she’d failed to bring them a message from her god. But hadn’t the old spirit-woman denied his divinity? At least that old seer had wisdom.
When Kookka returned eight days later, be brought news that startled Jess out of his torment.
“Yea, we did it. Map all marked. But we’ll talk of it later. You need to come with me now, to the perimeter. We have company.”
Kookka and Joel led the way, neither obliging enough to explain what this was about. After the past few days, Jess’s body was fizzing with dread. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
The farms and the base, all occupied elevated sites with steep escarpments down into forests that gave onto lowland swamps and plains. Time was, Jess had supposed the Techs had situated them thus to deter intruders. Now, hearing the Itamakku in Toki-dow speak of a god-hill, he wondered if the siting had more to do with fostering that illusion.
Those slopes were ankle-twisters. But that wasn’t a consideration when there are fliers. It only mattered when you’re on foot. Like now. Jess rolled his eyes: he seemed always to be slithering down these screes.
Two Itamakku females waited on the path below. Young, but not so young they hadn’t yet developed the fertile female’s features. Not so young that they didn’t smell fragrant. Not so young that he didn’t have to control his hand for he wanted to reach out and touch that petal-fresh skin. And despite he’d seen and didn’t want a repeat, still their tiny skirts of whatever the fabric made guessing at what was beneath them so intriguing. Thankfully, both wore grass-fringed capes.
Perhaps being more experienced in female presence, his control was better than Joel’s. Joel smoothed the back of his fingers along the nearest female’s exposed naked arm. “This I could die for.”
“You fool, Joel, and now likely you will.” Jess turned his attention to the females. Were they from Toki-dow, or were they from the hill-dows? From any dow, it was no short walk. He spoke to them in Itamakkuese. “Why are you here?”
The taller of the two answered. “Cela-Kuci sent us. She asks where is Cela-Byi?”
“She says not to return without Cela-Byi,” said her companion.
“But Cela-Byi be wise not to return.”
“Cela-Kuci intends to make her ancestor spirit.”
“You mean, she wants to kill her?” Alarm raised Jess’s voice to an almost-squeak.
“We too be wise not to return,” the taller one said.
“Translate, please,” Joel begged. “What are they saying?”
“They’re saying they can’t go back to their dow.”
Joel beamed his delight.
“No, Joel. We can’t accept them here.”
“We could get Murry and Tyrim to erect another hive,” Kookka suggested. “Domestics, they should know how.”
“You too?”
Although Kookka had wisely kept a distance, he smiled in a most shamefaced way.
Thank you for reading
Continues on Monday
Comment welcomed
crispina kemp 