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CHAPTER 15

Goth knew too well just what they were tiptoeing around. She’d come close to dying and she had pushed her klatha use too far and too hard. She had met people whose klatha use had burned out. People who had been hot witches once.

She wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier just to do what others who tried to do too much had done: burn up.

But the captain…he’d just been so pleased to see her.

So she tried to ’port a glass. All that happened was that it rocked and fell over. That brought the Leewit, who grumpily told her she needed to take it easy.

She tried, but it wasn’t easy. Sleeping was the best escape, so she did a lot of it. She was also fighting another demon. She’d gone off on her own mission and she could see why the prognosticators thought she would be better for that. Captain Pausert would have gotten furious and tried to take on the whole lot, head on. But…in a way, she’d failed. This was the first big failure in her life, and she wasn’t dealing with it well.

It was with all of this sitting on her, that the Venture closed on its next destination, Na’kalauf.

* * *

Na’kalauf was a water world, a blue jewel hung in space in a setting of moons. From far out they could detect no trace of land, but as they swung into a braking orbit they could see that the blue below was not all uniform. Zooming in on the screens, Pausert could see the color came from traceries of white—bands and patterns of them across the face of the blue jewel below them. He was aware that Me’a, her bodyguards and Ta’zara were looking over his shoulder. “So where are we going? Where’s the spaceport?” Goth was up, and sitting in the second’s chair, enjoying it. This was the first time the Leewit had allowed it, and it was a beautiful sight.

“So what are all the white lines?” asked the Leewit, peering at the screen.

Ta’zara answered her. “The reefs. The sea breaks onto the reefs. Our Nuii lie inside the reef.” His voice was strained—a little higher-pitched than usual.

No one had answered his question about where the spaceport was. So the captain zoomed the view on the screens a little closer. Now one could see the breaking reefs with the deeper blue of the ocean outside and paler turquoise areas within—surrounding endless small islands. “So just where are we going? Where is the main spaceport?” he asked again.

“No one wants to answer in case we start a war,” said Me’a, with a wry smile. “We are from different clans. Related ones at least, so it could be worse. There are no spaceports, Captain. Any Nuii that tried to build one would have everyone else go to war with them.”

“Why? I mean, Na’kalauf bodyguards travel. They go off-world. So how do they do it?” asked the captain.

“How and why in the same question. ‘Why’ is because our clans have a long, long history of war and raiding. It is what we are and why Na’kalauf guards are what they are. ‘How’ is easy. There are lots of beaches to land on. As much of it as you could want for a space fleet, if you choose the tide right. Fortunately we are close to the right tide.”

“And if we aren’t?” asked Pausert, warily. The Venture might be old, but she was his ship.

“Well, your ship is going to end up with her tail in the water, but only on the full flood tide—when all the moons align, on the war tide. But if you choose your time, it is all dry.”

“Um, when is that?” The moons varied in size and distance, and didn’t look particularly aligned.

“The Tide of the Dead comes around once a year. Our year, that is,” said Ta’zara.

Pausert was aware of that prickle of klatha that went with his gambles. He exchanged a quick glance with the Leewit. Both Goth and the Leewit always had that curious lithe tension in their posture, like a hunting miffel. But long experience had taught the captain to spot when that was heightened. Right now the Leewit looked like all that tension was about to explode into action. That was usually pretty messy.

“What’s the ‘Tide of the Dead’?” the Leewit asked. When she was being like this, all the little-girl speech patterns and mannerisms disappeared. The captain wondered if she put them on, in between, or if this was more of the effect of the teaching pattern in her head. The girls both carried their mother—and some others—with them always. A teaching pattern would have helped him, Pausert had often thought. But they seemed to think it would be better if he learned everything the hard way.

Me’a answered. “The opposite of the flood tide, of course. If all the water is drawn to one side of Na’kalauf, the reefs on the other side have it drawn away.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Me’a. I was asking Ta’zara,” said the Leewit, now definitely sounding very like her mother Toll.

There was a long silence. Then Ta’zara sighed and answered. “It is the time when all of the reefs around the Nuii are exposed. It is uncrossable. No war canoe can get through. The channels are dry, the reef corals are a wide barrier of knives no living warrior could pass through. It is when the battle warning-call sounds, calling the clans from the fields or from the lagoon or reef, home to protect the Nuii—but there can be no possible raid coming to defend from, then. It is the time when the clans call the dead back from the sea. Only their spirits can cross the reef then. The living call them, sing their deeds so they be remembered, so they can stand with their comrades again. Without that they are lost, forgotten. Their war brothers sing their deeds so they can return and guard their kin.” He shook his head and turned away, walking rapidly down the corridor to the cabins.

There was a long silence. Finally, Me’a broke it. “His whole clan group was killed. He will have to sing them all home by himself. Their kin will be waiting. That…is unusual, these days. The Imperials frown on the Na’kalauf going to war, and while bodyguards have to come home over the reef at the tide—it is rare. He will have to sing them all home by himself.”

“That has to be pretty hard,” said Pausert, awkwardly.

One of Me’a’s two bodyguards broke that silence. “It is the task of the living to honor their clan dead, to tell of how they conducted themselves, as warriors of the Aiwi, the clan. Then the warriors or the children of the warriors all sing of their deeds, so the dead and the living can hear. He can sing them home, but not of his own deeds, for them. The clan will have to send some of its elders to find any that witnessed, so they can sing of it. The old men travel under the truce flag, and go to ask. It has been done before.”

The man paused. And then he continued, reluctantly. “But you have said they have all fled. Fled beyond reaching.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” said the captain, thinking about it. It wasn’t strictly fled as gotten rid of, back to their own universe, but that would do. Ta’zara had expected to die in that effort. It was the price he had been willing, almost eager, to pay. He had not expected the witches of Karres to ’port him to safety at the last moment, as the Megair Cannibal fleet slipped through the rift into their own dimension.

He had not expected to have to face this.

“A word, Captain, in your shell-like ear. In private, perhaps,” said Me’a.

“There are no secrets between me and my crew, Me’a.”

She shrugged. “Very well. From what I have gathered you know nothing of how Na’kalauf’s society works. We are a poor world, and our only thing of great value to sell is the services of our warriors. A warrior has an oath of loyalty to their ‘warlord.’ In the case of the La’tienn oath—which is what almost all off-worlders get, it is simply that of personal loyalty and defense for a fixed period. The loyalty while they serve their contract time is total, and the fighting skills they bring, great. That isn’t cheap. Part of the payment goes to their families, and part to the clan—who must care for the family, if the warrior is killed, or for the warrior and their family, if the warrior is injured.”

She looked at the Leewit. “There are higher oaths. They are granted, rarely, outside the clan—because they commit the clan too. And they are lifelong. It has been a century or more since that happened with an off-worlder. Ta’zara was part of a new defense squad—a thing of huge cost, to a very wealthy smuggler of illicit substances. A rival to the smuggling network of Sedmon of the Six lives—so he had reason to need them. Their new employer was killed by shrapnel from a missile fired by the Megair Cannibals.

“Ta’zara’s squad had no one to die in the defense of, so, strictly speaking, the clan is no longer responsible for providing for those families. Warriors, and bodyguards, die before their ‘warlord,’ preserving his or her life. Normally, when their charge falls despite their best, the La’tienn walk away. These could not. They lost their lives, and their families and clan lost their income. Not only does Ta’zara have no word of how they died, because he did not see them die, but the families and the clan have lost their breadwinners. It’s not a huge clan, but an old and proud one. This is a blow in every way, not just to him but to those families and that clan.”

“Um,” said the Leewit into the silence after Me’a had finished. “Are you saying I should be paying Ta’zara?”

Me’a’s two bodyguards looked surprised. That must be pretty shocking, thought the captain, as the one thing about Na’kalauf bodyguards was that their faces never gave much away.

He tried to decide what to say. But before he could say anything, the Leewit continued. “’Cause it’s clumping not like he just works for me. What I’ve got is his, if he needs it. I clumping well told him so. He always says he doesn’t need anything.”

“You have it right,” said Me’a, approvingly. “It would be an insult to offer money to a La’gaiff retainer. But it is traditional to provide for his needs and give him gifts that he can distribute to his kin. And it is also traditional for the kin and clan of the ‘warlord’ to thank, in a similar fashion, the warrior for any exceptional services.”

“Ah,” said the captain, “And when and how is this done?”

“Either at the time of the service, or a time of the warlord’s choosing, or for great and signal services, in front of the clan, at the Tide of the Dead. Oh, and because Na’kalauf is a very traditional culture, such gifts are usually made in gold coin. Na’kalauf doesn’t hold with banks or credits.”

Captain Pausert pulled a face. “There goes another plan.”

Me’a looked at Captain Pausert with just the slightest hint of a smile about her face. She never showed much on that poker face, so that was a lot. “I am, as it happens, transporting quite a lot of gold, as I was returning there. Some I have an immediate need for. But having operated in the wider world I would sell some and take payment in a bank draft of Imperial maels. As long as it was transaction with a bank I could trust.”

“Like the Daal’s bank on Uldune?” said Pausert.

“Why, that is my own banker,” said Me’a. “I think I could trust them.”

The Leewit, Goth and Captain all looked suspiciously at her. It was the Leewit who spoke first, though. “You trying to pull some kind of stunt, Me’a?”

“Actually, no. For a start I think that would be foolish. I was given very explicit instructions—and a warning about what could happen otherwise—about giving you as much assistance as possible, by the Daal of Uldune. In person, by subradio. That doesn’t happen…except it did. My job as much as anything was always to be a step ahead of the Imperial authorities, to anticipate their moves. Anticipation is what I am good at. I guessed you would not know the traditions of Na’kalauf. I worked out that the gold might be useful. Besides, I wasn’t going to leave it on Cinderby’s World.”

The Leewit looked at Pausert. “Captain?”

He nodded. “Consider it done, little one. The Venture owes some of her wealth to your pack of cards.”

“And,” said Goth, “Karres kind of owes him too. So do the Illtraming, although collecting might involve going back there. But from Karres’ point of view I have about half a million maels in my purse. If you’ll take cash that is, Me’a.”

“Half a million!” exclaimed the captain.

Goth shrugged. “It started at a quarter, but a few people tried stupid stuff on me.”

“I would accept cash,” said Me’a. “Without trying any stupid stuff. There is also the matter of my own debt to the Leewit. I have been thinking about that. I am still free of pain. I am…”

“You and me are going to have a talk about that,” said the Leewit. “Soon.”

Me’a’s normal poker face showed dismay. “You mean…it’s not cured?”

“You are,” said the Leewit. “But it’s kind of more about what you said about this ailment being common on Na’kalauf.”

She grimaced. “It’s not common. It happens, though. As far as we know—knew—it was untreatable.”

“It’s treatable. Doesn’t even need me. But I have access to memories of healers going back all the way to old Yarthe. They’d never seen it elsewhere.”

“The cure would be of huge value to our people. Killing the child, and then parents killing themselves afterward, is the only way out right now. I was very late onset. It was expected I would kill myself.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of about that late onset,” said the Leewit, reaching into her shirt and pulling out her pet rochat. “You had one of these as a pet, didn’t you?” The animal squirmed free and jumped across to Goth.

“Yes. It died when I was young. I remember the fur making me sneeze, but I was very fond of it,” said Me’a. “You mean the disease comes from them?”

“Nope. It’s not strictly a disease. Complicated stuff, to do with your genes. In a way having one of these, making you sneeze…stops the body attacking its nervous system. Kind of like having little fights with your sister,” she looked at Goth, stroking the rochat. “Stops you having big fights with someone else. When your rochat died, the disease had nothing to stop it.”

Me’a sat there, her lips pursed. Then she made a little ksck noise and the rochat—which had been investigating Goth’s ear, leapt off her shoulder and bounded over to Me’a. Me’a sat there in her chair, stroking it. There were tears quietly trickling down her face. Eventually she said, “I loved my little Sklar very much. When she died, I said I would never let myself get that close to another animal.”

She took a deep breath. “To think I just left Cinderby’s World because the business opportunities declined. I may have to go back. But I have sufficient contacts…they breed there, particularly in the tunnels. Strange that they should have such an effect.”

“Yeah,” said the Leewit with a very odd smile, the kind of smile that always made Pausert wary. “Very, very strange.”

“In the meantime,” he said, “we have a world down there, and I still need to know where I am setting you down.”

“The ever-practical Captain Pausert,” said Me’a. “I’ll give you the coordinates later—we’re on the wrong side of Na’kalauf at the moment. If you set me down, my guards can take a trade boat to their own Nuii. Then you can take Ta’zara to his Nuii. It’s relatively close—two days’ paddling. It’s a little faster by rocket ship. Come, Pa’leto. I think it is time we packed our things. We will be home soon.”

The guards said something to each other in their own language, and looked at her. She gave them a wry smile. “My men would like to respectfully buy passage to Ta’zara’s Nuii after they finish their contract, bringing me home. They claim that it will be easier sailing. It’s not that they wish to be there, to hear Ta’zara sing his brothers home, so they can say they were there. Not at all.” She shook her head. “So, Captain. Can we save you fuel? I am so kind. I will take a trading vessel home, and retain my men as guards until then.”

“And we’ll buy some of your gold off you, so you have less to guard. Just as kind,” said Goth. “You’ve been getting into bad company without me around, Captain,” she said, looking at Me’a.

Me’a laughed. “I was going to say ‘you have no idea,’ but given that Sedmon of the Six Lives wears a special cap to prevent the powers of the witches of Karres, I will merely say, ‘Yes, Your Wisdom, he has.’ And leave it at that.” She turned her eyes to her guards. “Can we go? I have things to prepare.”

As soon as the captain heard her cabin door shut, he turned to the Leewit who was feeding salty seaweed crisps to the rochat that had returned to her from Me’a’s lap. It was not sure it liked them. “Just what did you mean by ‘very, very, strange’? I noticed. I’ve learned to notice. There was salt in the sugar last time.”

The Leewit stuck out her tongue. “I haven’t done anything for ages. All this being responsible. But it is strange. The rochat…it gave Goth a disease too. The temperature she had. It might even have fixed her…possibly. If she hadn’t just clumping well come down the Egger Route. But it helped. And I found it gave Me’a a kind of treatment too. That was also working, except she wouldn’t normally let them near her. And Nady…that drug he was using should’ve killed him. Only he got a bug from his rochat. It’s something that needs a rochat to host it—but it helps the people that catch it from the rochat.”

“Pretty good bug. Good for all that ails you.”

“Yeah. Except for one thing. It’s not the same bug every time. Somehow the rochat is making some kind of variation, depending on what’s wrong. I’m not saying it does everything, but I tested it once I figured it out. It might make you sick, but it’s helping your body deal with things that’d kill you otherwise. Diseases just don’t work like that. There is something very strange about these little animals.”

“Very, very strange indeed.”

“Yeah. And that’s not all that is strange. When I look inside Tippi…she’s more like the tumbleflowers than people. I mean, like really alien.”

“Yes?”

“Really alien doesn’t have bugs that can live easily in humans. It just…” she rolled her eyes. “I haven’t even got the words for all this yet! It doesn’t work like that. Just like the Melchin plant could sort of live in humans, but not breed.”

“It does sound like it could still be useful to the people with Me’a’s condition.”

“Pretty much fix it if they’re young when they get the rochats, and keep them. A good deal for the rochats. But that’s not all that’s odd. I asked Nady. He said rochats had always been around on Cinderby’s World. So I did some looking up of stuff. I kind’ve leaned on that detective inspector to let me look into the history vault. And yeah, in the reports, real early records record three animals. The tumbleflowers, the porpentiles and the rochats.”

“Maybe that’s where they come from. You said they were like the tumbleflowers on the inside, at the cellular level.”

“Yeah. Quite like. But…here’s the thing, Captain. What did they eat? I mean this little girl is really a greedy-guts, but they all eat. And Cinderby’s World has got nothing else.”

That was true enough. Cinderby’s World was effectively a pretty good place for tumbleflowers or porpentiles and not much else. “Must have come with one of the early spacers, I suppose.”

“Could be. But you know what else is weird? That cloth Goth was wrapped in—that’s rochat hair. I’ve been trying to find out where else they could come from. And it looks like Cinderby’s World or the Iradalia system.”

The captain’s klatha gambler’s prickle was raising the hair on his neck. There had to be a tie between all of these worlds. But before he could think much more about it, one of Me’a’s bodyguards brought a set of coordinates for their landing. He also brought something that probably wasn’t much use elsewhere that spaceships landed—a set of tide tables.

Calculating off those the Venture had about ten hours to reach her landing spot, and a further six hours before the first small returning tidal water would come into the lagoon around Ta’zara’s home village. With six moons, tides on Na’kalauf were complicated…and huge. The water would drop by nearly the full length of the Venture, standing on her tail fins. They really didn’t want to get the tide chart wrong.

The captain set the Venture down as lightly as a feather on the vast expanse of white sand around the feathery green trees of the little island. There was still water in the lagoon, but it clung to the edges of the reef, and there was plenty of near-flat beach to land on. There were two other ships there, too, and another set down a few minutes later. But what really struck the captain as he brought the Venture gently to rest was the line of people on the shoreline. Watching.

“They wait to see who has come home,” said Ta’zara, heavily.

“Uh. Do they know?” asked the captain. “I mean about the Megair Cannibals.”

“I sent word. They know.”


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