The Lord of the Plains (41 page)

They resumed walking up the steep tunnel.
The rock here was raw and the tunnel was narrow enough that it
scraped. It was not so much a tunnel carved by the Vachi but an
opening formed naturally by some prodigious movement in the
rock.

Here, natural light washed down through the
tunnel. They were very close to the surface.

Finally the tunnel opened into a small cave
formed by an overhang in the rock above. It was wide, open and
shallow and looked out onto the towers below.

Vearla was watching them, her back to the
towers, to the sunlight.

This was a place an Astarian might feel at
home. Any beauty here was not formed by human or valkar hands. It
just was. There was no furniture or decoration. Just Vearla,
sitting on a rock.

Her skin was even darker than that of the
Vachi. It was as black as a starless night. Her hands were sitting
limply in her lap. Her dress was simple and magnificent at the same
time. She did not wear the robes of the Vachi.

Her eyes, dark as her skin, travelled slowly
over the party arrayed before her. It was cramped, for they would
not approach her. Messenger knew from experience Vearla was oddly
skittish. Suddenly a thought occurred to him as he looked at those
dark eyes. Perhaps it was the darkness of the deepest cave that
coloured her, not the darkness of a moonless night.

‘Recha, Skachi,’ the Speaker stiffened at
having her call his name, an injured look on his face, but she
travelled on as if she hadn’t noticed. That was another reason
Messenger liked Vearla’s place. She seemed oblivious to the Vachi’s
rules sometimes. Other times she seemed to know them better than
they did. But when she didn’t, it was easy for him to behave as an
Astarian.

She stopped at Mr Briggs.

‘Neiteis Briggs.’ Mr Briggs offered.

‘Neiteis, Saris.’

She stopped, having named everyone. Her eyes
drifted back to Skachi, the Speaker.

He spoke in Ravki to her. He said, ‘Please,
honoured one, you know our customs, please do not use my given
name. You dishonour myself and my House by doing so.’

Vearla didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes drifted
back to Mr Briggs. Her voice was soft and lovely. Somehow, everyone
could understand her when she spoke. ‘I am not a Judgement Master,
or even a judge, nor can I call any of my people. Yet the dark ones
of the mountain have asked me too, so I suppose I should…’ she
trailed off.

‘Perhaps you could make this decision by
yourselves.’ she said. Her voice drifted like a cloud on a sleepy
summer’s day.

At the same time Recha and Skachi began
begging her to take part in the decision.

Messenger was surprised. He had thought she
insisted on taking part in decisions. It looked as if he had
misunderstood her relationship with the Vachi completely.

‘Mistress,’ Recha translated, even though he
didn’t have to, that was how upset he was, ‘we do not wish to make
any alliance that might harm your people. These pale ones have
harmed your kind in the past, we would never wish for that to
happen again.’

Messenger’s heart felt like it stopped. Then
it began again, slowly. ‘Are you a valkar?’ he asked in awe. He’d
thought they were
gone
but surely, what else could she
be?’

Recha and Skachi looked at him in horror,
they both began speaking at once. ‘Your people mustn’t harm her.’
Skachi said while Recha, translating for him at the same time said,
‘please, Saris, you mustn’t tell your people.’

Vearla gazed at them, her eyes trailing over
them. ‘We all speak the same language here.’ she said, her voice a
leaf drifting on the wind. ‘How can we be friends if we do not
understand each other? There is no need to translate.’

‘Are you a representative of the valkar?’ Mr
Briggs asked firmly, resting his oddly soft eyes on Vearla.

‘No… I’m not a representative of anything.
Yes, Saris, I am of the valkar.’

Messenger felt curiously lightheaded, as if
he was floating, as he tried to figure out what this meant. While
he was doing that Mr Briggs was going on, undaunted, like a good
Astarian.

‘My people have never harmed the valkar. The
gemengs are our enemies.’ Mr Briggs said firmly, fixing a steely
grimace on Skachi. ‘You have no need to fear for the valkar on our
account.’

Skachi looked shocked to find he could
understand him. ‘No, eminent one, are you completely unaware of
your past? Your people violently attacked and enslaved our allies,
the valkar. Only with our help did they find freedom and peace.
We-’

He was about to launch into a long
description of that time when Vearla interrupted him.

‘Where are you from?’ she asked Mr Briggs.
‘I have tried to talk to Saris, but he is more interested in
getting answers, than giving.’

Messenger blushed fiercely as Mr Briggs
tried to describe the location of Astar.

‘So you are descended from the Seiaans.’
Vearla said and fell silent for a moment.

The name meant nothing to Messenger. He was
mystified and intrigued and dying to ask more but after what Vearla
had said about him he dared not.

‘The Seiaans did not fight against us. But
they did not help.’ she said after a while. ‘But what has that to
do with the Raka?’

Messenger quietly told Mr Briggs that she
always insisted on referring to the Vachi as the Raka. She didn’t
even notice their pleas to call them the Vachi.

‘It is not the valkar you want an alliance
with, and I am in no position to make that decision for my people.’
she did not appear to be talking to them. Again, Messenger was used
to this behaviour from her.

‘Are there any valkar in Seisaa?’ she asked
suddenly, brightly, and Messenger was surprised and rattled to see
hope in her eyes.

Mr Briggs looked at her in confusion.
Messenger had an idea she was doing to them what she did to the
Vachi and so could answer, ‘no, lady, there are none.’

Her gaze fell to her lap. Her face was
hidden by her hair, as dark as the rest of her, so dark the hair of
the Vachi looked pale next to it. It was hard to pinpoint what it
was exactly, but sometimes it was hard to tell what the difference
could be between valkar and human, other times she amazed him. Yet
he couldn’t say why. The Vachi were different enough for him as it
was.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

‘I think we would notice someone who looked
like you in Astar.’ Messenger said.

‘Why would the others look like me?’

Messenger didn’t know what to say to
that.

‘Vearla stays with us because she looks like
us.’ Skachi said. ‘Your people held great anger towards those who
looked differently, so the valkar often visited only the lands with
humans who shared their colouring.’

‘Your people were the same.’ Vearla added.
For once, Messenger thought he heard a note of annoyance in her
voice. ‘Most left the land… I was one of the few who stayed.’ Her
head drooped again. ‘I knew a valkar who travelled many places.
Perhaps he came through your land?’ she did not look up when she
asked, perhaps to spare them her disappointment.

‘Gemengs live in our city with us.’ Mr
Briggs said. ‘Perhaps a valkar came in too.’ he looked uneasy at
the idea.

‘He was a Moonsinger… I did not know him
well, we had little in common. They always gaze at the sky…’

‘What does he look like?’ Mr Briggs
asked.

‘A Moonsinger.’

Mr Briggs looked over at Messenger, who
shook his head.

‘Lady, we do not know what a Moonsinger is.’
Messenger said.

‘One who sings to the Moon. I had heard he
often travels with a young girl. Oh but they must be different,
girls from the other people always change so fast.’

‘What does a Moonsinger look like?’
Messenger asked again.

‘Oh, they look like the moon.’

‘Well, we’ll see if we have any… we’ll look
into it for you, Miss Vearla.’ Mr Briggs said.

‘About the alliance, Vearla,’ Recha said
delicately.

‘Oh… the alliance… I have no objection to a
friendship between the Seiaans and the Raka. The valkar have never
wanted war. So please, if you would form an alliance, please let it
be a force for peace in the world. Do not use it to make war.’

As they were leaving Messenger arranged to
be the last one through the narrow tunnel.

‘Vearla.’ he said.

She contemplated him in a distant sort of
way.

‘Did the valkar really help the humans
survive when the gemengs came?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. We tried to give shields
to all we could find. Even though we hated you….’

‘So there was a time before the
gemengs?’

She nodded and smiled. ‘And a time before
humans too. I never knew that time though.’

‘Just one more thing,’ he said hurriedly,
glancing down the tunnel and seeing Recha looking back.

‘Did you give more to the Vachi?’

‘The Vachi were our friends. We did not mind
helping them, though we couldn’t trust them any longer. We hated
helping the others.’

‘Why couldn’t you trust them?’ Messenger
asked.

Vearla smiled a smile that wasn’t really a
smile. ‘Because the others used to be our friends too.’

Chapter 32

With the pleasantries out of the way it was
time for the real reason for coming here. At least, that was how Mr
Briggs thought of it.

They were led to a part of the city deep in
the mountain, heavily guarded and far from any of the places they
had visited previously.

Mr Briggs had renewed energy in his step as
a thick metal door slid open and they were led into an undecorated
room.

The group who walked with them was different
now. The Speaker for the Master of the House of Corchanus was still
the lead, with Recha, as well as one of the speaker’s attendants,
but the rest of the group had changed.

Along the opposite wall of the box was a
rack of metal poles.

Recha translated for the Speaker, ‘These are
the Devlars, a highly effective shield. Do you have any of your
weapons with you?’

Messenger translated for Mr Briggs, they had
been asked to bring some of their own weapons.

A man dressed in loose trousers and a vest
stepped forward. He picked up one of the Devlars and turned back to
face them, taking a wide stance, the pole held in both hands.

‘Will you fire at him?’ Recha translated.
‘You may shoot to kill.’

Mr Briggs stared at Messenger, then at
Recha.

Messenger quickly asked if he had translated
correctly.

‘You may shoot just to wound if it makes you
feel better.’ Recha said to them in Astarian, ‘though it is not
necessary. The Devlars have never failed.’

‘Very well.’ replied Mr Briggs, ‘Messenger,
set your SIGPEW to low grade.’

Messenger stepped forward. As a pilot he
didn’t actually
use
the PEWs anymore, though he was still
expected to train with them regularly.

As he raised the SIGPEW the man began
spinning the Devlar around himself in a complicated dance.

Messenger watched for a bit, perplexed. Then
he fired. For a moment it looked as though a stream of liquid gold
was suspended in the air.

What happened next was so quick Messenger
almost didn’t see it.

A blade sprung from the Devlar. The energy
from the SIGPEW hit it and then… then there were gold sparkles for
a moment. Then they were gone too.

‘You may fire again.’ Recha told him.

This time Messenger waited. There were holes
in the dance. It was fast, but not
too
fast, surely the
muscular man could have gone faster. So there were gaps. Messenger
waited, waited. When the pole was to the man’s right, Messenger
fired at his left.

A blade sprung out again. Sparkles.
Nothing.

The man smiled and turned his back to them,
the Devlar going round and round.

He fired again, this time at his back. The
same thing happened.

Again. Fire, deflect, sparkle.

Fire, deflect, sparkle.

‘Raise the setting.’ Mr Briggs said, his
eyes not leaving the spinning warrior. ‘Don’t fire at his body. We
don’t want to hurt the man.’

Messenger quickly changed the setting as
fast as he would in battle. Then he fired slightly to the side of
the man’s leg.

Gold sparkles glimmered for a moment before
dissipating.

Messenger lowered his SIGPEW, stunned.

‘We didn’t bring any of the heavier arms,
sir, the SIGPEW is all we have.’

‘May I see the Devlar for a moment?’ Mr
Briggs asked the Speaker.

The Speaker replied, Recha translated:
‘certainly.’

The warrior slowed his dance and stopped.
His face was dark and impassive. He held the Devlar out towards
them on flat palms.

Messenger followed as Mr Briggs approached
the strange contraption.

When he got closer Messenger saw the Devlar
was not smooth. There were many grooves and lines in it, all over
it, crisscrossing the entire surface in an uneven pattern.