The Stars Asunder: A New Novel of the Mageworlds (29 page)
Read The Stars Asunder: A New Novel of the Mageworlds Online
Authors: Debra Doyle,James D. Macdonald
BOOK: The Stars Asunder: A New Novel of the Mageworlds
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The First of Demaizen, unfortunately, had never been an easy man to divert from his purpose. “There are things about this,” Garrod said, “that you are not telling me. I didn’t return, not until now. Perhaps you were hoaxed—”
“By whom?” demanded Arekhon, giving up on subtlety. Garrod syn-Aigal was First of the Circle; let him decide for himself what was best. “We didn’t lose contact with you throughout the working, and whoever—or whatever—we brought back at the end certainly looked like you. But you were old, and quite mad.”
“What a pleasant future to look forward to … you said you had a destination?”
“Yes.”
“I need to see it,” Garrod said.
“Now?”
“If possible.”
Arekhon sighed. Elaeli might still be on the
Rain’s
bridge, and by this time someone had undoubtedly told her about his argument with Iulan Vai. Sound on shipboard carried in odd ways, and no conversation was ever truly private.
Rain’s
bridge, and by this time someone had undoubtedly told her about his argument with Iulan Vai. Sound on shipboard carried in odd ways, and no conversation was ever truly private.
My life wasn’t full enough of excitement. I had to do this to myself. Maybe Garrod will distract her.
“Come with me, then,” he said to the First, “and I’ll show you.”
Garrod followed Arekhon out of the observation chamber. The access way outside was empty, a narrow passage spiraling wormlike beneath the ship’s hull—metal underfoot, and lit with amber-tinged lamps. Arekhon led the way without saying anything. Garrod, a pace or two behind him, had time to reflect upon their brief exchange a few minutes earlier.
“We,” the younger man had said when he spoke of the Circle, not giving anyone’s names, as if both the right and the burden of decision belonged to him. Garrod knew what that meant.
“Yuva is dead, isn’t he?”
Arekhon nodded. “In the working. Bringing you back was a struggle. It almost took me as well. But you were with us before it came to that.”
“
Not
me. Or, not me as I am. When I left … where I was, I came here.”
Not
me. Or, not me as I am. When I left … where I was, I came here.”
Arekhon didn’t answer, and they stumped along the spiral way for a while in silence. Finally Garrod said, “Where is Yuva now?”
“At Demaizen,” Arekhon said. “Kiefen and Delath are still there, and Serazao; they’ll take proper care of the grave-offerings.”
“Good,” said Garrod, and didn’t speak again until they reached the ship’s bridge.
His appearance there—a stranger, whom nobody had seen come aboard with the rest of the crew—caused a flurry of gasps and murmurings. A young fleet-apprentice, looking nervous and self-important, scurried off, probably to rouse the Captain. Garrod ignored the commotion and followed Arekhon to the station of the pilot-principal, a curly-haired young woman whose quick sidelong glance in their direction caused the Second’s cheeks to go briefly red.
“Pull up the chart,” Arekhon said. He was pretending for some reason that the glance had never happened; under other circumstances, Garrod might have been amused.
The Pilot-Principal had her eyes fixed on the console now. “Chart up.”
She touched a key, and the air above the station console began to take on form. The sparkling lights of the Eraasian homeworlds showed their curves and lines and probabilities. Beyond them stretched the blank gap of the empty space beyond the Edge, with a red ship-sigil in the midst of it marking the vessel’s last known position. On the far side of the gap, a marker shone with a golden-white light.
Arekhon pointed at it. “That one.”
“How much time to arrival?” Garrod asked.
“Some months,” said the Pilot-Principal. She seemed to find it a relief to address Garrod instead of his Second, even though Garrod was a stranger and an interloper aboard the ship. “Wait a moment, and I’ll work out the exact time.”
“Not necessary,” said Garrod. “I know that world. I suppose that you are prepared for your arrival?”
The Pilot-Principal regarded him with a straightforward gaze. “Is the world as rich as the marker says?”
“
Yes.
”
And maybe when they learn about us, Garrod thought, they won’t buy Eraasi and all its holdings out of cash in hand. Maybe they’ll take their practice at warmaking and conquer us instead. “Richer than any we’ve seen.”
Yes.
”
And maybe when they learn about us, Garrod thought, they won’t buy Eraasi and all its holdings out of cash in hand. Maybe they’ll take their practice at warmaking and conquer us instead. “Richer than any we’ve seen.”
Footsteps sounded, and the door to the bridge opened. It was the Captain, with the fleet-apprentice trailing behind her.
“Captain sus-Mevyan,” said Garrod, glad that the Captain was one of the handful of sus-Peledaen officers whom he knew by sight.
And sus-Mevyan, it seemed, remembered him. “Garrod syn-Aigal!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing, appearing in the middle of nowhere like this? Sus-Khalgath told me you were … indisposed, on Eraasi.”
“I seem to have recovered,” Garrod said. He nodded toward the chart. “I need to know—have we gone too far to turn back?”
“We don’t have enough fuel for a return,” the Captain said. “We’re working off the reserves, and hoping that the new world, when we find it, has fuel that we can use.”
Too late to turn back now
, thought Garrod, with a sigh. Aloud, he said only, “Very well. Beginning tomorrow I shall teach a course on the languages and customs of the planet known as Entibor. All hands are invited to participate.”
, thought Garrod, with a sigh. Aloud, he said only, “Very well. Beginning tomorrow I shall teach a course on the languages and customs of the planet known as Entibor. All hands are invited to participate.”
Year 1128 E. R.
ERAASIAN SPACE: SUS-PELEDAEN ORBITAL STATION
ENTIBORAN SPACE: SUS-PELEDAEN SHIP
RAIN-ON-DARK-WATER
ILDAON: BESHKIP
N
atelth sus-Khalgath had not grown any fonder of visits to high orbit since the departure of
Rain-on-Dark-Water
for the worlds beyond the Edge. Once again, however, obligation and family honor had conspired to bring him there. The head of the most powerful fleet-family on Eraasi could not ignore the completion of his own new-made orbital station, especially not when the station’s design—like
Rain’s—
was the first new development in over a generation.
atelth sus-Khalgath had not grown any fonder of visits to high orbit since the departure of
Rain-on-Dark-Water
for the worlds beyond the Edge. Once again, however, obligation and family honor had conspired to bring him there. The head of the most powerful fleet-family on Eraasi could not ignore the completion of his own new-made orbital station, especially not when the station’s design—like
Rain’s—
was the first new development in over a generation.
Natelth’s grandfather had established the specialized construction cradles for guardships like
Ribbon-of Starlight,
making the sus-Peledaen convoy system safer and more efficient than the unescorted ships belonging to all the other families. Natelth had gone further. He had made orbital space itself secure. The new station had an outer shell proof against any ship-mounted weapons that might be brought against it; and it had guns of its own, heavier and more hungry for energy than anything that could be mounted on shipboard.
Ribbon-of Starlight,
making the sus-Peledaen convoy system safer and more efficient than the unescorted ships belonging to all the other families. Natelth had gone further. He had made orbital space itself secure. The new station had an outer shell proof against any ship-mounted weapons that might be brought against it; and it had guns of its own, heavier and more hungry for energy than anything that could be mounted on shipboard.
Natelth had been reluctant, originally, to take such an unprecedented step. Resources turned away from ships and trade almost never brought in enough new wealth to justify the expenditure. When his agents reported that all of the other fleet-families were building warships, however, he could no longer justify holding back.
So far, those other warships were only a distant threat. He didn’t know of any families who had them besides his own sus-Peledaen, and Natelth at least had promised himself not to use them unless absolutely necessary. Nevertheless—he would have failed in his duty to the family, if he didn’t protect it against the day that might come.
The new station’s inauguration into active service, at the end of many months of work, had required speeches and ceremonies honoring everyone from the designer-in-chief to the lowliest of the gun crews. Even the station’s
aiketen
and the crewmembers that tended its house-mind had received their due: Isayana sus-Khalgath herself had come up with Natelth to inspect the former and thank the latter. Finally everything was done, and Natelth was able to retire with his sister for a private dinner in the station’s guest quarters.
aiketen
and the crewmembers that tended its house-mind had received their due: Isayana sus-Khalgath herself had come up with Natelth to inspect the former and thank the latter. Finally everything was done, and Natelth was able to retire with his sister for a private dinner in the station’s guest quarters.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Isa kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief. “At least that’s over. And the station’s kitchen will do all right—I instructed that node personally.”
“Decent ingredients are still going to cost the world,” Natelth grumbled. “Port-city prices plus the cost of transport up to orbit … sometimes I wonder if Thel sus-Radal is circulating rumors of warships purely to bankrupt me. It’s exactly the sort of underhanded trick that moon-worshiping malefactor would try.”
An
aiketh
floated up to Natelth’s elbow. “A message, from the family’s agent-in-place on Ayarat.”
aiketh
floated up to Natelth’s elbow. “A message, from the family’s agent-in-place on Ayarat.”
Isa frowned at the quasi-organic. “Can’t this wait until after dinner?”
“Might as well get it over with,” Natelth said. “I’ll take it now.”
The
aiketh
hummed and clicked for a few seconds, and extruded a slip of paper. Natelth thanked it absently, his eyes already scanning the lines of type.
aiketh
hummed and clicked for a few seconds, and extruded a slip of paper. Natelth thanked it absently, his eyes already scanning the lines of type.
The report was brief. The sus-Peledaen tradeship
Mirror-of the-Sun,
burdened with a consignment of engine-control assemblies, was overdue at Ildaon, and now the sus-Dariv ship
Garland-of Sweet-Branches
had arrived on Ildaon herself, selling on the auction market a set of engine-control assemblies. Typical of an after-boarding action—the sus-Dariv had been pirates since before it was respectable.
Mirror-of the-Sun,
burdened with a consignment of engine-control assemblies, was overdue at Ildaon, and now the sus-Dariv ship
Garland-of Sweet-Branches
had arrived on Ildaon herself, selling on the auction market a set of engine-control assemblies. Typical of an after-boarding action—the sus-Dariv had been pirates since before it was respectable.
But the
Garland
didn’t have the usual log notation showing that the assemblies had been taken by means of honorable boarding and skill. The sus-Dariv were denying that they’d ever encountered the
Mirror
at all. And that was definitely against all custom.
Garland
didn’t have the usual log notation showing that the assemblies had been taken by means of honorable boarding and skill. The sus-Dariv were denying that they’d ever encountered the
Mirror
at all. And that was definitely against all custom.
“Will there be a return message?” inquired the
aiketh.
aiketh.
“Yes,” Natelth said. “Return message as follows: ‘Check to see what else you can learn. Ensure that no other possible source for engine-control assemblies exists other than my ship. And confirm lack of log entries.’”
A red light glowed briefly inside the
aiketh’s
upper shell. “Return message transmitted.”
aiketh’s
upper shell. “Return message transmitted.”
The quasi-organic floated away. Natelth watched it, frowning.
Isa gave him a curious look. “What was the problem?”
“A spot of trouble out near Ildaon,” he replied. “Probably nothing. But it might be a good excuse to send out one of the new warships—get some use out of them and give the crews some practice. And show some people that we aren’t the family that they should be playing games with.”
“You aren’t planning to do anything rash, are you?”
“No, not at all,” Natelth said. “Just a little show of force, and strict orders not to fire unless fired upon.”
“That’s all right, then,” Isa said. “As long as nobody else shoots first.”
The towers of the Zealous Endeavor Manufacturing Company rose above Beshkip like the fingers of a hand thrust up through the earth. The hour was grey morning, just at dawn shift change. The loaders were backed to the docks and the workers just done with breakfast were going to their places on the line, while those they had replaced headed to the showers and locker rooms in preparation for the journey homeward.
In a small conference room on an upper floor, decorated with models of sea-ships and star-ships inside polished glass cases, two highly-placed conspirators met with their offworld agent Seyo Hannet at an unusually early meeting. The owners and the top-level executives of the Zealous Endeavor, who spent their days on the next floor up, were not yet in the building offices. Syrs Kammen and Riet could met with Hannet undetected, then proceed to their own offices for an early start to the day.
“Is everyone here who was involved in the original planning?” Seyo asked. “My report may be complex, and I’d rather not repeat it for latecomers.”
“Jaf Otnal is at a conference on Ildaon,” Kammen said. “He was the only other planner from this office. We can summarize your report for him when he gets back.”
“Only you three?” said Hannet. “Excellent. The fewer who know, the better. And both of you, I presume, have been discreet? No written notes, no confidences to lovers?”
“We all know better than that,” Kammen said. “No one lasts long in business who can’t keep his own counsel.”
“Better and better.” Hannet paused and sniffed, as if repressing a sneeze, and rubbed the back of his hand across his nose. Then he stood and walked past Riet to check the outer door. It was locked. He returned to his place at the conference table and stacked his papers in order before continuing. “You asked to be brought up to date on how our plan progresses. The pieces, in fact, are falling into place as scheduled. The fleet-families have been seduced into a pointless building program—pointless, at least, unless they use their new weapons against each other. The hook has been baited, set, and now—”
Kammen struggled against a yawn, then gave in and covered it with his hand.
“Do I bore you, Syr Kammen?” Hannet asked. “You
did
ask for a full report.”
did
ask for a full report.”
“No, no,” Kammen said. “A late night and an early morning, that’s all.”
“Very well.” Hannet stacked his papers again and continued. “The plan has succeeded so far, in that the ships have been built, and the trap has been sprung to set them at one another’s throats. For the next phase—”
Riet’s head nodded forward. He caught himself, raising his head and his eyes, then he nodded forward again. A snore rattled in his throat. Kammen resisted for a moment longer, then slid sideways to the floor, snoring also.
“—for the next phase, this,” Hannet said.
He picked up his papers from the table and returned them to his case. From the same case he brought out a thin tool chest. He opened an access panel on the wall beside one of the glass cases and clipped a small yellow cylinder across a pair of electrical leads.
After replacing the panel, he unlocked the outer door and stepped out into the hall, then locked the door again behind him. In the elevator going down, he pulled a pair of filter plugs out of his nose, sneezed heartily, and put the plugs into a pocket envelope. He stowed the envelope in his case next to the tool chest.
In the lower lobby, where the data workers and the junior executives stood in lines to buy hot morning-bread from the kiosk vendors, Hannet walked slowly to the door, only one more businessman in a business-filled sea. As he walked through the outer doors to the ground-shuttle stop, he heard the first faint clanging of the security alarm, and the annunciator proclaiming “Fire … fire … fire … .”
The shuttle that took him to the center of town passed emergency equipment rushing in the opposite direction. He ate breakfast at his hotel, and lunch at the space port, while awaiting departure. The afternoon newscasts told of the tragic fire at Zealous Endeavor. It had started in the electrical wiring near the top of the executive tower. Several had been injured, and two had died, a pair of mid-upper-level executives overcome by smoke inhalation.
“Painless,” Seyo whispered. He paused before boarding his shuttle to orbit to send a coded message. Even if it had been sent in the clear, the meaning would have been obscure to anyone but the intended recipient. It read, in whole, “As requested.”
If
Rain-on-Dark-Water’s
first passage through the Void had felt interminable, the second—though it was, in fact, no shorter—seemed to pass with frightening speed.
Rain-on-Dark-Water’s
first passage through the Void had felt interminable, the second—though it was, in fact, no shorter—seemed to pass with frightening speed.
Everyone aboard knew that the
Rain’s
safe return to Eraasi depended upon acquiring fuel from the new world they were inexorably approaching. Garrod syn-Aigal’s unexpected appearance on board ship brought reassuring news of civilization and trade awaiting them, but the news did not stay reassuring for long. There was too much to be learned—language, customs, local politics, all of it alien and confusing—and Garrod showed no mercy in his instruction.
Rain’s
safe return to Eraasi depended upon acquiring fuel from the new world they were inexorably approaching. Garrod syn-Aigal’s unexpected appearance on board ship brought reassuring news of civilization and trade awaiting them, but the news did not stay reassuring for long. There was too much to be learned—language, customs, local politics, all of it alien and confusing—and Garrod showed no mercy in his instruction.
“This isn’t one of our lost homeworlds waiting to be found,” he said again and again. “This is a place that does not know anything about us, and we do not know them. What you learn here may mean your lives, later.”
By the time
Rain
finished her second transit and emerged into realspace, most of the ship’s officers and some of her crew had at least a smattering of the language, and a few had managed to achieve a fluency equal to Garrod’s own.
Rain
finished her second transit and emerged into realspace, most of the ship’s officers and some of her crew had at least a smattering of the language, and a few had managed to achieve a fluency equal to Garrod’s own.
Pilot-Principal Elaeli Inadi was one of those few. She was pleased that her regular duties required her to be present on
Rain’s
bridge at the time of the dropout. If anything from the new world came over the ship’s communications system, she would be able to hear and interpret it for herself, without needing to ask anyone for the meaning.
Rain’s
bridge at the time of the dropout. If anything from the new world came over the ship’s communications system, she would be able to hear and interpret it for herself, without needing to ask anyone for the meaning.
There was a time, she knew, when she would have gone to Arekhon sus-Khalgath for something like that. That was before she had seen him for the first time in the company of his fellow-Mages. She understood, then, how tightly the members of a Circle were bound together—and why Arekhon had felt compelled to opt out of the fleet-family for good.
It’s not that I don’t trust him any longer
, she thought uneasily.
Not really. But he thinks about the Circle first, and not the ship.
, she thought uneasily.
Not really. But he thinks about the Circle first, and not the ship.
He was on the bridge now, along with Garrod; the two Mages were standing out of the way against the rear bulkhead. Elaeli glanced in their direction—
looks like they don’t want to hear somebody else’s version of the dropout
,
either
—then went back to waiting for the Captain’s word.
looks like they don’t want to hear somebody else’s version of the dropout
,
either
—then went back to waiting for the Captain’s word.
Sus-Mevyan said, “Stand by,” and Elaeli, her eyes on the screen showing the ship-mind’s running calculations, replied, “Dropout in five, Captain … on my mark, mark.”
The familiar shiver of discontinuity rippled through her, coursing along the interface between body and mind, and the grey opalescence of the Void transformed itself into ordinary darkness outside the bridge windows.
Captain sus-Mevyan clicked on the speaker to the engineering compartment. “Fuel status?”
“Almost flat,” came the reply. “We can do some in-system work—maybe one jump if there’s another star nearby—but we’re not going home again on what we have.”
“We knew that.” She turned back to the bridge team. “Anything on the electromagnetic bands?”
The crewmember at the communications board looked up from his bank of screens and readouts. “I’m showing something. Not natural, but if it’s modulated I don’t know how.”
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