The Lord of the Plains (37 page)

When Cavachi came into view a smile lit
Messenger’s face. He waited a moment to allow Mr Briggs to
appreciate the beauty of what was before them before asking what he
thought.

The palace of Cavachi clung to the mountain
side. Slender spires of pale grey stone rose vertically from the
sheer face of the mountain. Every time he saw it Messenger
marvelled that a structure built from stone could look so elegant,
could tower so high above the mountain side without crumbling under
its own weight. A few times he had been lucky enough to be delayed
and arrive when the sun was setting. Then Cavachi looked as though
it was afire as brilliant reds and yellows and oranges lit the pale
stone.

Yet now he knew this was just the tip of the
iceberg. Cavachi continued extensively below the ground, as well as
into the valley behind the mountain. The city of Cavachi had an
elegance and beauty Astar had never even dreamed of.

‘What do you think?’ Messenger eagerly asked
Mr Briggs.

‘Hmph. It doesn’t look very practical.’

Messenger’s heart dropped like a stone.
‘It-it’s very well defended, sir. Appearances can be deceiving, it
has shields, just as Astar does. Oh, look!’

Messenger’s eyes were drawn to what looked
like a thin, snakelike cloud in the sky. It was an overcast day so
it was hard to spot them, but there were several of the worms in
the sky.

‘Where? What are you looking at?’ Mr Briggs
demanded gruffly.

Messenger directed Mr Briggs to the worms
which wriggled high up in the clouds above Cavachi. They were…well,
they were creations of the Vachi. They were lines of capsules that
were connected together that looked like nothing so much as worms,
that happened to be flying. They also moved like worms. Wriggling
and jerking apparently randomly. He was told they were very
effective in a battle and were very difficult to hit. They could
also break apart, as they were made of individual segments, and
join up with others.

In the side of the mountain there were
metallic hatches. At astonishing speed the worms would come and go
from these hatches. Once inside Cavachi they served as a form of
transportation through the tunnels.

Messenger thought they were brilliant. Even
more importantly, they were a form of weaponry very different to
that used in Astar. If Mr Briggs wasn’t impressed by Cavachi’s
elegance, he would be impressed by Cavachi’s military might.

‘Ah, yes. I remember your report on them,
Seiris, fascinating.’

Messenger sighed. His name seemed to slip
from people’s minds. They never
quite
got it right.
‘Messenger, sir, please just call me Messenger.’

From this angle it looked like they’d have
to land at the bottom of the mountain and climb all the way up to
reach Cavachi. That was what he’d done on his first visit. The
mountain was nearly impossible to climb, and the Vachi, who had
been watching him the entire time, had finally come to investigate
what this pale little creature was doing on their mountain.

Now he knew he could land in the mountain
valley behind the peak that rose above Cavachi. If the Vachi
allowed it of course.

This meeting had been a long time in the
arranging, so there wasn’t likely to be any problem with that.

As the Carrier-2 rose above the mountain a
lush green valley came into view. Mr Briggs craned his neck to get
a better view. ‘Ah, and do they farm down there?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir.’ It also served as a retreat for
those able to afford it. He had visited one of the valley villas
once. It made you want to earn money, just for the chance to visit
again.

‘I don’t see any defences. Do their shields
extend over the valley as well?’

‘Yes, sir.’ that had been in one of the many
reports he had written.

‘Mmhmm.’ Mr Briggs fell silent.

Messenger suspected Mr Briggs knew all the
reports on Cavachi by heart and was busy thinking about military
matters.

There was a flat, empty expanse of rock just
above the valley floor, on the side closest to the peak the towers
clung to.

That was where Messenger landed the
Carrier.

Standing a safe distance back from the
platform was a richly dressed welcoming party. As Messenger hopped
out of the Carrier he spotted the man who held a position much like
his own and smiled. Recha had a good understanding of the
difficulty of forging a friendship between their two peoples.
Sometimes Messenger wondered if anyone else wanted this friendship
as much as he did. Cavachi was so different to Astar. They could
both only be the better by knowing each other.

When he was safely on the ground he turned
to assist Mr Briggs and found he didn’t need it.

It was windy on the platform. The robes of
the welcoming party were being whipped around, but they didn’t seem
to notice. Behind them, Messenger knew, was a fiendishly well
hidden trail up to a door that was hidden even better.

Right now though, he had to focus on getting
through the introductions.

The Vachi had warm, dark skin. Messenger
vividly remembered the first time he saw them on that windy
mountainside.

When he’d seen those dark skinned creatures
coming towards him he’d thought he’d walked right into a gemeng
nest. He’d felt sickening terror as he realised he would likely die
here. He remembered the weakness that had suddenly infected his
limbs. He’d taken a step back and his legs, suddenly the
consistency of cave mould, had been unable to hold him and he’d
tumbled down the mountainside.

He’d awoken inside Cavachi to a dark face
peering at him. He’d screamed like a little girl face to face with
a gemeng about to eat her.

Then there had been a terrifying parade of
dark skinned creatures. He realised now that they’d been trying to
talk to him. But they had not understood each other’s language and
he’d been too terrified to realise they had bandaged his
injuries.

Finally they had brought Vearla, pronounced
Vee-arr-la, to him. She sat by his bed and observed him silently
with big dark eyes. He had gabbled at her in his tongue, perhaps
trying to beg for his life. He couldn’t remember.

Then, out of the blue, she’d spoken to
him.

‘Don’t be afraid.’ she said.

That had been the beginning. She’d stayed
with him often and helped teach him Ravki, the language of Cavachi.
Not long after, he’d met Recha. At the time Recha hadn’t meant much
to him, he’d met so many different people in those days. But Recha
had stayed more often than the others. Now he knew it was because
Recha had been chosen to learn his language.

As Messenger became more fluent in Ravki,
Vearla had spent less and less time with him. During the last three
visits, Messenger had not seen her at all. The Vachi were very
close mouthed about her.

The Vachi were different to the Astarians in
many ways, but sometimes Messenger found their reticence about some
subjects the strangest. They were happy to regale him with stories
of a people called the valkar, who had apparently rescued the human
race from extinction at the hands of some terrible foe by giving
them gifts of shields and other technology. His own people put
little store in examining the past, so realizing the Vachi studied
it extensively was illuminating. He’d presumed the foe they’d
spoken of were gemengs, and asked where the gemengs came from, as
their stories suggested they hadn’t always been around. Where had
the valkar come from? Where were they now? What exactly had they
given them? Could they help them now?

And suddenly, to his bewilderment, when he
asked these questions, they clammed up and wouldn’t say a word. Why
regale him with stories of these people he had never heard of and
then refuse to acknowledge his questions?

But he was here to make friends, so he had
put his questions away for the most part. Every so often he still
pressed Recha. At least he would acknowledge that Messenger had
asked
a question.

Now he looked at the Vachi and the fear he’d
first felt was gone. His only worry was that Mr Briggs would feel
what he’d first felt, and their chance of friendship would be gone,
like ashes in the wind.

Mr Briggs frowned dangerously. He put his
mouth near Messenger’s ear and whispered, ‘those clothes don’t look
very practical.’

The welcoming party consisted of six people,
including Recha. The Vachi had curious customs regarding who could
know whose given name and in what situations they could use it. Out
of the six people in front of them, Messenger only knew Recha’s
given name, though in this situation Recha would not personally be
addressed. He would just be a translator, so in a way he didn’t
count.

The group was arrayed in an arrow, a man
dressed in sky blue robes, the Speaker, at the point, flanked on
either side by two people. Recha stood in an awkward position
between the man in sky blue and the person on his right. They all
wore flowing robes of vibrant colours and intricate designs. Rings,
necklaces, bracelets and bands of gold and silver, studded with
precious stones, adorned fingers, necks, arms and wrists. Even more
complex than their attire were the rules
about
the attire,
about who could wear what and when and with whom.

Recha stood out for the plainness of his
robes, but even he was better dressed than Messenger and Mr
Briggs.

The man in sky blue stepped forward, Recha
beside him.

Messenger smiled weakly at this man. His
eyes darted to Recha and back again.

The man to the left of the man in sky blue
began speaking. Recha translated, though at this point Messenger
could understand what he was saying.

‘The Speaker for the Master of the House of
Corchanus welcomes you to Cavachi, people of the far away land of
Astar.’

A wide belt of dark blue was wrapped around
the waist of the Speaker. His dark hair was slicked back tightly
against his scalp and bound in a perfect little knot. That was also
a mark of importance. Less important people were not allowed to
have their hair slicked back so tightly and perfectly. Recha’s
hair, also in a knot at the back of his head, had little waves in
it. His robes were brown.