Chains of Mist (18 page)

“Certainly. A
fai’la’if
is someone who has suffered a loss at the hands of a specific person or group of people. Yet that is not enough on its own. The
fai’la’if
’s loss must be something very personal and absolute—the most common tale is of someone who has simultaneously lost spouse and children. Moreover, the individual who inflicted the loss must have done so for personal reasons.” He paused for a moment, studying Austin’s reaction. “It is a difficult concept to explain, especially to someone outside of our culture, and there is still more to it that I fear you would not understand. If you truly wish to
understand what a
fai’la’if
is, you should listen to some of the tales of the
fai’la’ifa
of legend, and let them paint a picture that my mere description cannot.” His brow furrowed in consternation. “I am sorry, Austin Forgera—that was a poor explanation. I am trying to frame my thoughts into words that I am certain will translate into your language, and I fear that much of the meaning has been lost.”

He seemed genuinely distressed, and Austin realized that the ability to clearly and effectively communicate his thoughts was a point of pride for this man. “No, I think I understand. I’ve actually encountered other societies with a similar sort of word, so I have a pretty good idea of what you mean. But—”
and it’s a pretty big ‘but,’ which will probably eliminate any chance that these Belayas will help me…but this man has been honest with me, and he deserves my honesty in return
“—I’m afraid that, unless I
really
misunderstood, I am
not
a
fai’la’if
. It is true that I have lost a friend—but it wasn’t personal. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stand in line for my chance to finally kill Rokan Sellas…but he hasn’t done anything against me personally. He doesn’t even know me. I’m sorry.”

Taralen did not seem surprised. “From the tale you told me, I suspected as much,” he said. “But I am gladdened to hear the admission from your own mouth. That kind of honesty is commendable.”

“Thank you.” Austin stood more quickly than his still-weary joints would have preferred. “I apologize for wasting your time. I’ll be going now, and I’ll leave the Belayas in peace—”

“Hold, now.” The Belayas
Sho’nal
raised a hand. “Let us not be hasty here. I did not say that you had to leave.”

Austin froze mid-step, eyeing the other man curiously. “I thought you said you couldn’t help me.”

“Hmmm…I did, did I not?” The
Sho’nal
tilted his head and looked thoughtful. “And I was right to say so, I suppose—to offer you aid would be to disrupt a very fragile peace with the Traika. It is an action that my people cannot afford to take. And yet…” His eyes glinted mischievously. “I am a good judge of character, Austin Forgera, and good men and women are far too rare to discard out of hand. If you had lied, and claimed to be something that you were not, I would have run you out of our lands without a second thought. But you did not—even though you knew that your best chance of securing my aid was by appealing to me through my daughter. She is mistaken in her belief that a
fai’la’if
’s quest automatically supersedes all else…yet it would also be incorrect to claim that
only
a
fai’la’if
may hold the moral high ground. Simply because one has not lost everything he holds dear, that does not disqualify him from serving a just cause, do you not agree? If this Rokan Sellas truly wishes, as you claim, to unleash a war that will kill entire worlds, then he should be stopped, regardless of whether or not he has caused one man personal harm. I suppose, in Jala’s grand design, that if aiding you resulted in the death of such a man, it would be worth sacrificing my tribe to achieve that?”

Austin said nothing. He sensed a trap, but Taralen was speaking so quickly that his mind was having trouble keeping up.
Better to say nothing than to say the wrong thing
, he recalled.
How many times did my instructors drill that into me at the Academy?

After a few moments of silence, Taralen realized that Austin wasn’t going to speak, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “We both know that is not true. With no insult personally intended towards you, my little tribe is worth more to me than all the stars and worlds of your people. The grand design is a terrific ideal, but you would not convince the
kat’ara
with such an argument, and rightly so—the survival of a few people whom we know and love is worth far more than the survival of a great many people whom we do not know and will never meet. No…if you are wondering whether I will force my people to be the agents of their own destruction by leading you to Kil’la’ril, simply because your cause is morally right, the answer is no. Even if I had the authority to do so—which I do not—I would not give such an order.”

Again, Austin said nothing. Taralen’s argument was giving him a headache; he felt like a pet who was being simultaneously punched and hugged.
First, he tells me that he can’t help me. Then, when I try to leave, he implies that he
will
help me. Then, he lists all the reasons why he
won’t
help me. Does he want me to say something? If so, what? Or is this simply his way of thinking out loud?
Austin couldn’t tell, so once again he decided that the most prudent response would be to let the
Sho’nal
finish whatever elaborate line of thought he was working on.

“Ah, I can see the caution in your eyes.” The half-smile widened into a full smile. “You wonder why I appear to be contradicting myself at every step. I apologize for alarming you—I am used to vocalizing my arguments, as it helps me to better understand the main issue…and to trick others into betraying any lies that they might have told. I can see that you are too smart for me to fool you, so I will be plain. My people will not risk the wrath of the Traika by escorting you through their lands. At the moment, I can think of no other way for you to get to Kil’la’ril. However, I have often found that the best solutions are the ones that are not readily visible. Just because I cannot think of a solution now does not mean that there is not one. Therefore, I would like to extend to you an offer to stay with us for a few days. If you would prefer to venture out on your own, you are welcome to do so…but you will find that the bortath’ana will offer you even less aid than the Belayas.”

Austin knew from his briefings that Taralen was talking about one of the local carnivorous beasts,
a canine species with wickedly serrated claws capable of running at speeds well in excess of a hundred kilometers per hour. Austin certainly had no interest in tackling such a creature on his own.

The
Sho’nal
’s offer sounded like a good one, but Austin was learning quickly not to take anything this man said at face value. “You would do this for a stranger?”

“Why not? We have ample space, and at most it will cost us a little food. I do not believe you wish to cause us harm…but, if I am wrong, we have many warriors who will gladly kill you where you stand. There is minimal risk on our part. What say you?”

Something about the way Taralen said ‘gladly kill you’ sent a shiver down Austin’s spine, but he decided that being a guest of the
Sho’nal
should be enough to keep him safe. If the tribesmen were anything like Darayan, they were disciplined enough that they wouldn’t kill him unless he gave them a reason.
It’s either this, or try to go it alone.
“I say: thank you.”
And I hope neither of us comes to regret this.

“Excellent.” Taralen placed his right fist across his chest, and Austin did the same. “Austin Forgera, welcome to the Belayas tribe.”

* * * *

The night after his meeting with
Sho’nal
Taralen, Austin lay in the clearing just outside the Belayas village, contemplating the stars. The view was perfectly clear, far clearer than he had ever experienced on Tellaria, though he had heard that there were areas on the poles of his homeworld where the stars were so pristine it felt to the observer as if time itself were afraid to breathe. Even Davin, where strict laws forbid over-industrialization, was not as fine as this—there was usually a Federation fleet in orbit, whose lights and shadows obscured some of the stars. Austin felt as if he had stepped through a doorway in time, into a landscape long extinct.

Yet he could not enjoy the moment. Looming in the background, huge and terrifyingly ominous, stood Nembane Mountain. The massive peak was a constant reminder of why he was here.
Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do—I’ll save you, Justin. I promise.

The Belayas tribe was holding a feast, a ritual festival to honor one of their gods. Austin had been told politely but firmly that he was not welcome and had been given a portion of food to eat wherever he wished, so long as did not disturb the feast. The message was clear: his presence was tolerated because the
Sho’nal
had vouched for him, but he was not part of the tribe.

“So, what do I do now?” Austin wondered aloud. He had the support of Taralen, and perhaps a few others who held the
Sho’nal
in high esteem, but the rest of the Belayas seemed to have labeled Austin as an outcast, a man who should be avoided at all costs.
Certainly he was not well liked by the warriors, and he suspected that he had Darayan to thank for that. In fact, for some strange reason his friendship with the
Sho’nal
seemed to have
lowered
his standing with the warrior class. Clearly, the warriors did not hold Taralen in very high regard; when speaking of him, their voices had been scornful and they had called him an
a’di
, a word whose meaning Austin did not know but which was obviously a pejorative.
Curious, how blatantly they insult him—as if they do not care if he knows. Curious…and not good for me.

Moreover, the
Sho’nal
did not appear to have much actual power; from what little Austin had been able to determine, he was more of an advisor, able to give suggestions but not actual commands.
So, not like the Vizier at all, actually.
As for the real leaders of the tribe, Austin could only speculate. Katrina, Darayan, and
Sho’nal
Taralen had all mentioned the
kat’ara
, which Austin remembered from his briefings back on Tellaria to be a group of elders who decided tribal policy. He had also heard of a
Dar’katal
, a man named Ulkar—nothing definite, but enough for someone of Austin’s experience to work with.
If other cultures are any indication, the
kat’ara
is a peacetime legislative body, responsible for anything and everything, and in absence of war they hold all the power. The
Dar’katal
—probably the leader of the warriors—is the wartime ruler, and during such times he likely wields powers akin to a dictator.

If Austin was right, then his situation was grim. The warriors didn’t like him, which meant that Ulkar probably wouldn’t support him either…and the
Sho’nal
had already explained why the
kat’ara
wouldn’t help him.
Which leaves me with…not much. My only supporters are a young girl and a man with no actual power.

Every moment Austin spent here was another moment he was
not
helping Justin. His powerlessness in his interactions with the Belayas was maddening—he was used to having the full weight of the Federation behind him, to having others
listen
when he spoke and act based on what he said. Waiting helplessly was torture, especially since he had no distractions, nothing to take his mind away from the terrible reality.

The reality that he—and Justin—were running out of time.

With that thought lingering in his mind, it took Austin a long time to finally sleep. When he did, his dreams were dark.

-9-

The ground rushed up to meet Drogni far faster than he would have liked, and he braced himself for impact. Most of his mind was relaxed, a calm born from the confidence of experience—
no problems, you’ve done this hundreds of times before
—but there was that one little voice in his head that reminded him sullenly that those hundreds of times were all twenty years or more in the past. It was a voice he’d been hearing more and more over the last few years.
It’s not that you
can’t
do it,
the voice said,
but it’ll hurt like hell afterwards
.