The Namura Stone (31 page)

Which meant that Six was still obliged to fulfill his duties as ambassador. He complained to the Kwaidian president, but was asked to perform the duties as a special favour. Attending public acts, even on Xiantha, was Six’s idea of pure torture. But he went, dragging one foot behind the other and hating every minute, every face, every speech, every greeting.

Those days he would not even try to sleep, making his way to the tree house as soon as he thought the others would not notice, watching out over the lake and trying to listen to the stars, trying to find some remnant of his previous life out there, some trace of Diva, some wisp of her energy to comfort him.

He never knew that there was a solid presence at the bottom of the tree. Bennel followed him out every night, melting into the shadows around the water’s edge and keeping guard at the base of the tree. Nobody needed to tell Bennel what to do; his job was to be a companion to
Valhai
Six. He could not keep him company in his lonely watches up amongst the stars, but he could make sure of his safety while he sat there.

So Bennel sat, night after long night, at the base of a nearby tree, doing his job. He would make sure that nobody disturbed the
Valhai;
he would be there to protect him if needed. Even Lannie said nothing to him about it, though she noticed how often he slipped from their bed to follow
Valhai
Six out into the night. She understood what his job entailed. Bennel knew that his wife would never complain about whatever sacrifice he was called upon to make.

ON DESSIA, THE prognosticator was facing the whole of the Dessite council of guardians. They were in a mind meeting to clarify events leading up to the explosion on the Island of the Forthgoing.

“We cannot allow this to happen again!” The prognosticator was mentally shouting so loud that several of his listeners winced. “I had requested that video cameras be stationed throughout all sensitive areas. As we are of limited vision ourselves, it would have been the most intelligent thing to do. Now look what has happened! We have lost thirty Dessites, the orthogel entity escaped, and our installations have been badly damaged.”

“But they left two small spaceships, Prognosticator. We have those.”

“They are useless to us. They are slow, inferior capsules: too large for the travelers, too small for any of us. And these bipeds breathe air, so their vehicles are not provided with water habitats. I really must insist that an internal system of defense be implemented immediately!”

There was a mental grumble of background sound, and then the council agreed. There was no denying the truth of the prognosticator’s words; they all knew that he had barely escaped with his life from the disaster that the bipeds had caused.

“Why were they not neutralized by the mental wall?” asked one of the most senior guardians.

“There was interference from the same entities which were present on the world they call Pictoria. We do not know how they can protect the others, but clearly they themselves are quite immune to our mental force. This is most disturbing.”

“It is more than disturbing.” The prognosticator was quite firm. “Do you realize that our home world has been attacked twice by these creatures? We know that they were present on this last occasion. It is logical to assume that they were also responsible for the fiasco when the traveler from one of our space ships was taken from us a couple of years ago. How long are we going to continue before we fight back? Are we going to cross our membranes and let them take whatever they like?”

The mental anger was getting louder now. There was no doubt of the enormous impact recent events had had on the Dessites. For the first time in thousands of years, they felt vulnerable. It was a hard pill to swallow. The Dessites, who had ruled their quintile of the galaxy with impunity, were now open to attack. It was a frightening thought.

The prognosticator could sense the fear of some of the guardians; he pressed home his advantage relentlessly. This was when he could gain much stature; this was when he could become the ultimate leader. He knew he would never have a better chance to seize command than now.

He kept his own mind cool, deliberately avoiding any areas of shade, or confusion. Instead, he let them see his resolve to restore lost pride, his painstaking calculations about the foreign intruders, his sleepless nights as he had pondered all of the possible outcomes, his careful negotiations with the Enarans in order to gain Dessia a strong ally. He knew, felt in his very blubber, that it would be enough. He would come out of this meeting with all the power he had craved for so long.

There was an extended silence. Then the prime of Dessia bowed his head, and spread his membranes. “There is some truth in all this. I feel that I may not be the appropriate guardian to lead our race into the future. I am no longer the tallest of us all. I place myself at the disposal of the prognosticator; he shall be the Dessite to lead this council of guardians in the difficult days to come; he shall be the one to forge a new empire for us.”

All those present rippled their eyefolds in applause and there was an immediate burst of excitement from all the guardians. Inevitably, some traces of this seeped through to the general populace, and the news of the new appointment flashed through the galaxy quicker than a lightning flash in a thunderstorm.

The prognosticator concentrated on keeping his head bent in submission and his thoughts clear and unsullied. They must not feel any ambition inside his mind; they must not suspect the lengths he was prepared to go to in order to protect his world. He thought brilliant thoughts of gratitude for the great sacrifices made by his predecessor. He thought surprise at being elected to such an elevated position. He thought humility at the knowledge of his new calling. He thought strength of purpose, but a determination to listen to all the council members. He thought of his need to make them proud of him, of his need to perform this sacred duty with sufficient efficiency.

They loved it. He could feel the tendrils of their minds lapping on the edges of his own psyche; they were radiating support and respect. Somewhere very deep inside his mind he found himself laughing gleefully. They were fools, easily manipulated, and therefore weak.

Then he modestly allowed himself to be persuaded by the urging of the whole council. Such news as this should be announced solemnly, and he was now the one to do it.

He cleared his mind, and then opened it to make the official broadcast to the nearly 600 billion Dessites clamouring for the latest news.

IT WAS TIME for the yearly visit of the other children again, and Six was on the beach with them all.

This time he had more helping hands. Apart from the five donor headquarters staff who had accompanied them, there was Grace, Bennel, Lannie, Tallen, Quenna and Sanjai. It made things much easier, but the one person he missed the most was not there, and he was on edge and kept glancing around the lakeside to see if he could spot her. He knew that she could not let herself be seen by the children; her very existence could only be known to a very few people, but he thought she might want to watch them from a distance.

At every moment, the things they had done the year before cut into his mind, provoking a wince as each memory came, uninvited, somehow transferring itself from deep and buried memory into the forefront of his brain. He closed his eyes.

A tug on his hand brought him back to the present. He scanned quickly around to see if Diva had arrived, and then bent down to the small figure at his side.

“
Valhai
?
Valhai
? May we bury you in sand, like we did last year?”

Six looked across at Grace. “Why don’t you bury Aunt Grace? It seems mean for me to keep all these pleasures to myself.”

Grace looked over. “I can’t!”

“Why not?”

Grace seemed to Six to be looking around. She spotted Temar at her feet and picked him up slowly. “I have to take Temmy in for his nap now.”

Six looked unconvinced. “You are just oozling out!”

Grace tossed her head. “Now, Six, would I do a thing like that?”

“You are very unfeeling.”

Grace couldn’t help grinning. “Come on, Six, they are your children. You know it is you that they want to entomb. I would only be a poor substitute.”

Six wondered if he himself was a poor substitute: a cardboard copy that went through the motions but could dredge up no feelings. He gazed down at the trusting face looking up at him and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Do really want to bury me? Didn’t you have enough of that last year?”

The boy’s face was quite determined. “Want to!”

Six managed a grin. “If you can catch me!” He set off at a darting run, in front of twenty of his children. It sounded as if the whole of the sycophant army was on his trail, as more and more of them joined the chase. He zigzagged along the beach, keeping just out of reach, until he thought it was time to let himself be caught.

Two of the boys were the first to grab at one of his flailing hands. He allowed himself to be pulled to a halt, and then stood uncomplaining as at least ten of his children clambered up his frame, tugging and pulling until he finally fell onto the sand.

Then many willing little hands began the treat of burying him. There was a moment when Six thought they might actually suffocate him, since one or two of the most exuberant children seemed to have been so caught up in the game they appeared not to remember that he needed his nose and mouth in order to breathe. Luckily Bennel pulled off the two most industrious of these, repositioning them at Six’s feet, and smoothing the grains away from his face.

“Thank you. I thought I was about to suffer death by child.”

“I am still your companion,
Valhai
Six. I am here to protect you from anything – even your own children!”

“I may well need somebody to come and dig me out of here,” said Six, in a long-suffering tone. “They seem to have put half the beach on top of me. They are a lot bigger than last year and, between them, they can move a lot of sand.”

Bennel pretended not to hear, hiding a grin. “I have taken the liberty of bringing a couple of the canths over. I thought they would all like a ride.”

Six looked across and saw Tallen and Raven coming onto the beach, on their own canths, leading Grace’s and Ledin’s equines behind them.

There was a mass exodus from Six’s prone position as soon as the children saw the animals. They ran, screaming with excitement, towards the canths, who tossed their heads and shied away in alarm at the onslaught of screeching children. Six saw that Tallen had to struggle to control both his own and Raven’s mount, which reared up and nearly unseated the little girl. Tallen reached over quickly to catch at the loose rein and calm the canth, seamlessly avoiding any danger for Raven. Then the canths were surrounded by the crowd of children. Within seconds there was no-one left close to Six.

Six struggled, but he was encased in the sand and found to his dismay that he couldn’t move. Bennel was walking rapidly away, taking the same direction the children had.

“Here, Bennel, come back! You can’t leave me like this! I can’t get out! Bennel! BENNEL!”

But Bennel was apparently out of earshot. He continued to walk away.

Six stared crossly at the receding figure, his face showing his dislike at his own defenselessness. “Just you wait,” he growled, “until I send you back to the meritocrats! Then you will be sorry.”

He struggled impotently against the cement grip of the banked sand. It was no good, there was no shifting the weight on top of him. He shouldn’t have let so many of them play at once; this thing felt as heavy as the dark Xianthe.

And, however much he struggled, he couldn’t get himself out.

Tallen and Raven rode past, leading the first two lucky children on a long rein.

“Daddy!” shouted Raven excitedly. “Are you having fun?”

Six glared at Tallen. “I need some help here!”

Tallen smiled politely back. “Of course – we will have finished in a couple of hours.” He rode on past, hiding a grin.

“A couple of hours? A couple of HOURS?” But his words were washed back to him by the small waves lapping against the shore. The canths had moved on. Nobody was listening.

It took Six what felt like an eternity to free himself from the huge pile of sand heaped over him, and he was not in the best of moods by the time he did manage to extricate himself. After telling the water just what he planned to do to both Bennel and Tallen, he stomped up the beach, towards the houses.

He was half way there when the absurdity hit him, and he began to laugh. Had he really become so tied up in himself that he couldn’t appreciate the humour of such a situation? That wasn’t right. He couldn’t allow himself to lose his sense of humour.

It was as if Diva had taken him aside and given him a raking down, with her acidly accurate scathing words. She probably would have if she had seen how inward-looking he had become. He suddenly knew that he had to fight to get some of the old Six back, bring at least a little laughter back into his life, transmit to Raven more of the magic of living and less of the agony of loss.

He realized that he had been living under an emotional sand heap, and it had been smothering him. He had to climb out from under it, just as he had clambered finally out of the mountain of sand covering him on the beach.

It was a moment of great lucidity. He couldn’t help grinning, even though, as a general rule, he had never been too keen on revelations.

He looked around him. There was nobody else in sight at just that moment; they were all clustered around the canths at the far end of the beach.

Six began to run lightly towards the mellowbell fields behind the trees which surrounded the lakes. These gave way to the canth pastures, and he was going to find his own canth. It was time he took a more active part in things; he would force himself to do better. Even though the ache of missing Diva never ever left him for one second, she would want him to be up there, leading the fun and games, whooping like the children and making their stay memorable. However hard it might be.

Soon he was cantering along the beach towards the others. Inside he was remembering the mad dash when he and Diva had raced their canths along these same sands. Outwardly he forced a grin.

“Who wants a ride on my canth?”

Grace, who had delayed her departure, looked down the beach at him. It was so good to finally see him try to show enthusiasm, even if she could tell that it was forced. She hoped he would be all right.