Seeds of Earth (43 page)

Chel gritted his teeth. 'A Dreamless ... we will try to save him from the Sentinel, Gregori, but you must trust me and not interfere.'

Gregori hesitated, then nodded. Chel removed the sleeves of his body garment, as did Weynl next to him, then they knelt down on the stone floor on the other side of the energy cage from the Human ambassador He steeled himself, his outer eyes open, staring at the intervening, shifting bright meshes, saw how they moved and saw how to move between them. Then as one, he and Weynl raised their hands and struck through to take hold of the Dreamless's host. The spikes in that nimbus signified the Dreamless's presence and gave away th< nodes of its connection. Some instinct made his hand move, small, furred hands stroking the man's head, tracing out the contours beneath, applying a touch or a finely gauged pressure ... no, not an instinct, he realised, but skills of another agency, the Sentinel of the well.

Both Uvovo withdrew their hands, and Chel noticed the band of crisped and smoking fur on his upper arms. There didn't seem to be any pain at the moment.

'Chel, are you okay?' said Gregori as he helped him and Weynl to their feet.

He felt dizzy and there was a hollowness in his stomach. He fumbled with unsteady fingers at his waist for the strip of heavy cloth, the blind for his husking eyes. Once they were covered, he inhaled deeply, held it for a moment then exhaled a long, shuddering breath.

'Yes,' he said as the tension ebbed a little. 'I feel better.'

Then he realised that the Human ambassador was still held prisoner. The Sentinel had fallen silent, for all that Listener Weynl kept calling out to it. And now the ambassador had recovered his composure sufficiently to stand and converse with Gregori in signs.

'Chel,' Gregori said after a moment or two. 'Ambassador Horst says that his AI is absent and making no contact - why won't the Sentinel release him?'

'I confess I do not know, Gregori,' he said, turning to Weynl. 'Did it say anything before . . .'

Suddenly the deep, overpowering voice spoke:

THE DREAMLESS HAS BEEN CONFINED AND ITS TIES TO THE UNDERDOMAINS ABROGATED. HOWEVER, IT REMAINS A THREAT.

Chel and Gregori exchanged a look of alarm.

'Wait, Sentinel,' said Chel. 'There has to be a way to make it completely safe. If you release him to us, it may be possible to remove . . . the device . . .'

NONE HERE ARE PATHMASTERS. NONE MAY COMMAND ME, THUS I MUST RESOLVE THIS IN THE LIGHT OF OTHER REQUIREMENTS. THE CONSTRUCT HAS ASKED FOR A HUMAN PROXY SO THIS ONE MAY SUFFICE.

'No!' said Gregori. 'We need this man here - he can help get the Hegemony off this world . . .'

'Certainty is not... immutable ...'

The words came in a dry, sibilant whisper, not loud yet omnipresent, and Chel felt a surge of relief when he saw the outlines of the Pathmaster's hooded form emerging amid the energy meshes that enclosed the Earthsphere ambassador.

'Venerable one,' he said, bowing along with Listener Weynl. Gregori was still standing nearby while Theo and the others retreated off towards the entrance.

'Sentinel,' said the Pathmaster. 'The Human bears a Dreamless which has been restrained. Why do you still hold him?'

THE ENTITY IS CAPABLE OF CONTROLLING ITS HOST, PATHMASTER. IT REMAINS A THREAT. I JUDGED THAT THE CONSTRUCT'S REQUEST FOR A HUMAN WOULD BE SATISFIED BY THIS ONE.

'Yet this Human is a senior representative of the greater Human culture,' Chel said. 'Left here, he would be able to weaken the Hegemony's position and even force their withdrawal.'

'Ah, young Seer Cheluvahar, the Hegemony Dreamless know this place exists - they will not loosen their grip, even if the Earth Humans were to turn against their Hegemony allies. No, the ambassador's presence will have little or no effect on the strife and conflict about to befall this world. The Hegemony will shortly control Umara and soon they will be walking in this very chamber.'

Chel fell silent, shocked, but Gregori was clearly upset.

'What does that mean for the ambassador?' he said to Chel in Noranglic. 'He's not sending him off to this Construct, whatever that is...'

'Human, the Construct was the Great Ancients' most faithful ally,' the Pathmaster said in perfect whispered Noranglic. 'And it remains a steadfast guardian of their purpose - it has promised us help in our struggle against the occupiers, and its promises are never broken. Also, it will know how exactly to deal with the Dreamless locked up in the host's head, for that is why he has come here, Human, otherwise he would be elsewhere.'

'No,' said Gregori. 'This man is our best chance of holding off the Hegemony . . .'

'Damn it!' said Theo Karlsson. 'I didn't get him away from those Brolturans just to lose him like this!'

'No, Human Karlsson,' whispered the Pathmaster. 'That is precisely why you rescued him.'

'Venerable one,' said Chel. 'Respectfully I ask, is your certainty immutable?'

'No, Seer Chel, but my judgement must be - Sentinel, send the Human onwards to the Construct!'

IT SHALL BE DONE.

For a long, agonising moment Chel stared at the horrified Ambassador Horst as he pointed and begged in silence. Then a dense vortex of well energies engulfed him, a bright maelstrom swirling for a few seconds before it began to diminish back across the boundary wall. The Pathmaster still hovered amid the fading, dissolving flow of radiance, and in those dying instants it pointed at Chel, Gregori and the rest in a single, sweeping gesture.

'Leave here - now!'

Then the last threads and grains of energy were gone, leaving them in the gloom of torchlight, hopes crushed, plans scattered, and the future . . .

The Humans wandered despondently away through the door, Gregori lingering, gazing at the darkened well. Chel went with Listener Weynl back to their small camp to gather together their sketches and papers. Yet Chel realised that, despite this dismal, dispiriting outcome, the future remained unwritten, as opaque and formless to the Dreamless as it was to themselves. Consoled by this, he followed Weynl, hastening after Gregori and the others.

44

KAO CHIH

In his dream he was being chased by a long, winding festival dragon whose head was the four-armed torso of an Ezgara commando, its four hands tipped with serrated claws, its featureless helmet splitting open to show rows of needle-like teeth, gleaming, snapping . . .

He was jolted in his couch, waking once more to a sickly mouth and a nasty headache.

'Back among the living, KC? - good. We're docking with my associates' mothership so it won't be long before you meet the leaders of the revolution!'

Corazon Talavera, his beautiful and deadly captor, sat in the pilot couch, monitoring displays, making a fewadjustments, and glancing at him occasionally. The cockpit's viewport was clear, revealing a strange vista, a dull yellow sun the size of a coin, its amber radiance casting a daylight crescent over a grey-brown planet which filled about a quarter of the frame. At first sight, it seemed that clouds of asteroids hung in spreading orbits about the nameless world .. . until a dark, jagged object tumbled past not far off, catching the sunlight on torn metal edges, a faring, a section of hull. Glittering and dwindling, it fell away into the planet's gravitic embrace.

-

'Wreckage,' said Cora, who had been watching him. 'Debris, the smashed remains of ships, combat and civilian, big and small, armed and helpless. Welcome to the Shafis System.'

Kao Chih frowned. 'You say that as if you expect me to know what it means, but I do not.'

She arched her eyebrows. 'KC, where have you been? I'm not a newsleech but even I've picked up a few details about Shafis here and there. Okay, here's the short version - which is all I can be bothered with. Shafis is a system on the edge of the Yamanon Domain, where it shades off into the Huvuun Deepzone, and so far Coalition forces have fought three battles here. First time it was with retreating remnants of the Dol-Das fleets, then it was against an armed reconnaisance group from some Aranja Tesh civ, probably Metraj, trying to rescue survivors from that dustbowl of a planet. Third time, which was just a couple of weeks ago, it was a bunch of idiot Sageist zealots putting together a fleet to attack Coalition positions, using the high-orbit shell here as a staging post while trying to recruit from the scrabblers down on the surface. Each time, the Hegemony - and its loyal Earthsphere sidekick stormed in with their ships and destroyed any vessel which offered resistance. And "offering resistance" was interpreted pretty loosely, I hear, resulting in these picturesque clouds of wreckage you see today. Along with a few more additions to the survivors down on the planet.'

'So why are your employers stationed here?' Kao Chih said. 'Are they scavengers as well as revolutionaries?' 'Benefactors, KC, rescuers. Since that third battle, the one with the holy armada, was fairly recent, it is possible that there may be survivors trapped on some of the hulks drifting out there, which naturally interests my employers. Who are also interested in similar individuals down the gravity well, but orbital searches come first." 'Recruits,' said Kao Chih.

'Exactly. You're catching on.' A clunking sound came through the hull and a rasping voice spoke over the ship-to-ship in a language that seemed to defy the linguistic enabler. Cora replied in kind and fingered several controls, putting most of the pilot controls on standby. 'Time to meet your new masters.'

Kao Chih's bonds were rearranged and lengthened, then, at gunpoint, he helped her wrap Drazuma-Ha* in a sheet and together they carried the mech out through the airlock and into a much larger one made of some dark, flexible material which had formed an airtight constriction around the
Castellan's
airlock flanges. Hatch doors closed behind and opened ahead and Cora gestured with her skinny gun to continue. His ankles and wrists were now bound with two-foot-long secure straps which made movement a chore, but he managed to back out of the raised hatch edge, carrying his end of Drazuma-HaThen he turned and saw that they were in a large, well-lit hold with equipment racks, luggage nets, upper-wall walkways, through-floor risers and overhead cargo lifts. There was also a welcoming committee, a tall reptiloid Kiskashin and a Gomedran garbed in grey overalls and carrying an odd figure-ofeight device.

At Cora's direction he helped carry the quiescent mech over to the two sentients and stood it on its end.

'Congratulations, Talavera,' said the Kiskashin in deep-throated 4Peljan. 'A high-grade human and a functioning Strigida-9 drone, just as you described. Truly, you are my most prized procurer.'

So this is a revolutionary}
Kao Chih thought.

The Kiskashin was nearly seven feet high, and beneath a sleeveless, three-quarter-length bluefibre coat wore what looked liked pieces of combat armour on his arms and shoulders, grey polyhedral surfaces worn at the facet edges, scored and pitted. Kiskashin were upright bipeds with muscular, birdlike legs and wide-toed feet. It was only after Kao Chih looked more closely that he realised that the Kiskashin's arms were artificial, having spotted the shoulder ball-joints and the fact that those arms had a longer reach than normal.

'As always, it is an honour and a privilege to serve your cause, Castigator Vuzayel,' Cora said, giving a slight bow.

'And to serve your own, hah?' the Kiskashin Vuzayel said. 'The great cause of money!' With the finger and thumb of one articulated, armoured, six-fingered hand he took a black velvety pouch from within his immaculate bluefibre coat. 'Selling souls for profit, Talavera few sins are as black as that in the eyes of the Great Sower. I sometimes think about inviting you to join the struggle, to lay down your sinful burdens and follow the path taken by those you have already brought into my care. But then I realise what a loss to the cause, the Writ of Sacred Revenge, that would be so I decide to forgo my duty, to further our greater ends.'

'I am glad that I will continue to be of service to you, Castigator,' Cora said unflinchingly. 'And to be paid.'

The velvety black pouch hung there for a moment, then was whisked out of sight, stowed back inside the coat.

'Later. First, I wish you to give our newest arrival the extended tour of our mighty vessel, the
Sacrament,
show him its most inspiring sights while the Strigida drone is being redacted.' Vuzayel glanced at the waiting Gomedran. 'Take it down to the examiners.'

The Gomedran bowed then stepped over to where Kao Chih still held Drazuma-Ha * upright, the sheet having been removed by Cora. The Gomedran motioned Kao Chih back, then slapped the figure-ofeight device onto the mech's carapace, thumbed its control pad and a moment later was carrying the mech out of the hold on his shoulder as if it weighed next to nothing.

Kao Chih found himself being studied by Castigator Vuzayel, pale yellow Kiskashin eyes regarding him, occasionally tilting that narrow-snouted head to focus one of them on him.

'I do not know what barbarous gods you Humans worship,' he said. 'But when you make your offering in the name of Sacred Revenge, know that you will be redeemed. You and the other devotees are the lucky ones - we, the leaders of the Chaurixa, must put off the joyous sacrifice until the Great Sower's writ has been fulfilled, a sorrowful burden which we stoically shoul der. But before you begin your journey, Human, tell your name.'

'I am called Kao Chih, sir,' he said. 'I am a freelance chandler, so if you have any unfilled contracts I would most happy to offer my services.'

Vuzayel laughed, a horrible grating sound.

'If nothing else, you Humans are entertaining! Go in peace, Karrchi, the Great Sower awaits you.'

As the Kiskashin headed for one of the exits with a heavy tread, Cora pointed with her gun at a flight of stairs that led up to a grillwork walkway. Glumly, he followed her directions, his thoughts inevitably focusing on his mission to Darien and the erratic route that had brought him to this end, the reprogramming of his companion, Drazuma-Ha*, and his own conversion to these fanatics' cause. No doubt he would face some form of brainwashing, perhaps a combination of drugs and sense-deprivation, or maybe even some kind of immersive procedure. Whichever it was he was determined to resist for as long as he could.