Conquerors' Heritage

6

Still, the Overclan Prime had seemed inclined to listen to the Speaker's argument; and it was to Thrr-gilag's surprise, therefore, when he reversed himself at the last beat, stipulating only that Thrr-gilag be back at the complex at least a fullarc before the expedition was scheduled to leave.

Five hundred cyclics ago, when the Overclan Seating was first established, the trek from Unity City to the Kee'rr clan's ancestral territory would have been a serious and difficult journey. Two major mountain ranges lay between them, as well as the ancestral territories of forty to fifty other clans. Clans whose suspicion toward outsiders had always been high, who with the carnage and devastation of the Third Eldership War fresh in their minds would have been even less hospitable toward strangers than usual. The last thing any of them would have believed was that a time of peace was even possible, let alone near at hand.

But it had happened. They'd pulled it together, all of them: the clan and family leaders first, the common Zhirrzh afterward. The Third Eldership War had been Oaccanv's last, and within two hundred cyclics even minor border skirmishes had all but disappeared. It had taken a special breed of Zhirrzh, Thrr-gilag had always believed, to have created such a future from the ashes of war. A unique group of visionaries, drawn together by destiny and necessity alike, who had risen above the traditional patterns of the past and found a way to bring the rest of the Zhirrzh race along with them.

Gazing out the window of the suborbital transport, Thrr-gilag stared at the lush green landscape beneath them. And wondered if, even with those same visionaries available to advise them, any Zhirrzh leaders since that time would have been able to pull off such a miracle.

The transport put down at the landing field outside Citadel, once the main stronghold city of the Kee'rr and still the clan's political and cultural center. The Thrr-family territory and shrine were three hundred thoustrides farther on, perched on the edge of a line of hills between two small branches of the Amt'bri River. A supply transport was getting ready to leave Citadel for the region; with a little fancy wordwork and judicious waving of his Overclan-complex pass, Thrr-gilag was able to talk himself aboard. Ten hunbeats later they were in the air.

"Heading home, eh?" the pilot commented as he brought the transport to its cruising altitude and leveled off. He was a middle-aged Zhirrzh, with age wrinkles around his eyes and an interesting crack-scar on his mouth. His tunic threads placed him as a member of the Hgg, the same family the current Speaker for Kee'rr belonged to. "Getting out of the fast pace for a little while, eh?

"A very little while," Thrr-gilag told him. "I have to be back in Unity City in a few fullarcs."

"Ah," the pilot said, throwing him a speculative look. "I hear the Overclan Seating's going crazy back there over this Human-Conqueror thing. You involved with any of that?"

"The whole Zhirrzh race is involved with it," Thrr-gilag said, marveling yet again at the sheer speed of the Elder information network. Less than a single fullarc since the Overclan Prime had coined the term Human-Conqueror, and here was a pilot on a minor supply run four thousand thoustrides away already using it.

"Involved right up to our tonguetips, from what I've heard," the pilot agreed darkly. "My grandfather was telling me about it last fullarc. Vicious warriors, nasty weapons, plus lots of Elderdeath stuff they're not shy about using. You know anything about that?"

"I've heard some of those same rumors," Thrr-gilag said evasively, wishing he knew exactly how much information the Overclan Seating had officially released to the general public. The last thing he wanted to do was toss more rumors into the general mix, especially considering the trouble he was already in. "Was your grandfather with one of the survey ships?"

"No, but he got it pretty straight," the pilot said. "One of his old co-workers has a friend who'd talked directly to the first cousin of an old warrior friend of one of the Elders on the mission."

"Sounds pretty straight, all right," Thrr-gilag conceded. If the Elders were talking, it was all over the eighteen worlds by now, official release or not. "I wouldn't panic just yet, though. We've got some pretty good weaponry, too, you know."

"I suppose," the pilot said. "I just hope we haven't sliced off more than we can eat here. This isn't just three planets' worth of Chig this time, you know."

"The war wasn't exactly our idea," Thrr-gilag reminded him, a twinge of almost-guilt tugging at him. Pheylan Cavanagh's insistence that the Humans hadn't started it... "Don't forget, they fired first."

"Yeah, that's what they say," the pilot said doubtfully. "Course, they might say that anyway."

"I suppose that's possible," Thrr-gilag murmured, turning to look out the window and putting his own doubts resolutely out of his mind. In a couple of tentharcs, with a little good luck, he'd know the truth about that battle.

The Kee'rr clan's ancestral territory extended across most of the fertile Kee'miss'lo River valley, from the river delta nearly to its source in the Phmm'taa Marshes. With few if any natural barriers to protect their land against outside aggression, the Kee'rr clan had been forced by necessity to become the dominant military power in the region. Political power had inevitably followed, bringing the Kee'rr up against neighboring clans in the ever-shifting patterns of alliance and betrayal and conflict that had formed the backdrop to much of Zhirrzh history. The political clashes had necessitated still more military might, which had created more political clashes, and so on.

Most of the clan and family leaders from that age had perished when their fsss organs had been destroyed in the Second and Third Eldership Wars. Thrr-gilag had often wondered what they would have thought of the changes their successors had created.

He smiled sourly to himself, thinking back to the passengers on that suborbital transport. Members of fifty different clans, traveling freely and without restriction to and from Kee'rr territory. No, the old clan leaders wouldn't have liked this new Oaccanv at all. They probably would have reacted rather violently to the whole idea, in fact.

Was that the same social structure the Humans were now living under? Had their attack on the Zhirrzh been a reflection of the same single-minded desire for territory that had driven the Zhirrzh themselves during Oaccanv's feudal period?

"Where exactly you heading this fullarc?" the pilot asked into his musings.

"To the family shrine, to see my father," Thrr-gilag told him, turning back around. "Then out to Reeds Village to visit my mother."

"Reeds Village?" the pilot echoed, frowning at Thrr-gilag. "That's way over in, what, Frr family territory?"

"That's right," Thrr-gilag said.

There was a short pause, with the other clearly waiting for further explanation. But Thrr-gilag remained silent, and after a few beats the pilot turned back to his controls with a shrug. "All right. Well. I'll go ahead and drop you off at the Thrr shrine, then."

"You don't have to do that," Thrr-gilag said. "I can take the rail over from Cliffside Dales."

"It's no problem," the pilot insisted. "There's a landing field just outside the predator fence gate—I'll put you down there, and you can walk right in. At least it'll save you the rail trip one direction."

"I appreciate the offer," Thrr-gilag said. "But you have a schedule to meet, and I can't let you—"

"Yes, you can," the other said firmly. "Like you said, we're all in this together. I served my stint with the Etsijian encirclement force when I was younger; I want to do my bit on this one, too."

It was a little under half a thoustride from the predator-fence gate to the Thrr-family shrine itself, its towering shape partially blocked by the darker bulks of the twin protector domes that sat on either side of the ceramic-pebbled path ten strides in front of it. Twenty or more Elders popped into view at one point or another as Thrr-gilag walked toward it, looking at the visitor with expressions ranging from hopefulness to suspicion to simple curiosity. One or two of them—probably members of his branch of the family, though Thrr-gilag didn't recognize them offhand—greeted him by name before leaving. The rest simply peered at his face, decided he wasn't there to visit them, and vanished.

He was perhaps five strides from the domes when the one on the left slid open a door and a tall Zhirrzh carrying a laser rifle stepped into view. "Stand fast," he said, "and speak your name."

"I obey the Protector of Thrr Elders," Thrr-gilag gave the ritual response, stopping beside the rack of kavra fruit that stood beside the path. "I am Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr."

"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"

"I will," Thrr-gilag said, taking one of the kavra and slicing it with his tongue. The ancient ceremony of trust, with the equally ancient exception: the protector of the shrine did not reciprocate.

"And who will prove your right to approach?"

"My father will," Thrr-gilag said, dropping the kavra into the disposal container beneath the rack. Like much of Zhirrzh tradition, this whole shrine routine had come under attack lately, its mostly youthful critics ridiculing it as a wasteful and meaningless throwback to Oaccanv's violent history. Personally, Thrr-gilag had always found a certain sense of comfort and security in the ritual. "Thrr-rokik—sorry," he interrupted himself. His father was an Elder now, with the Elder suffix added to his family name. "Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr."

A flicker of a smile crossed the protector's face. It was probably a mistake he heard all the time. "Advance, Thrr-gilag," he said, lifting the muzzle of his rifle to point to the sky. "And welcome. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to be back, Thrr-tulkoj," Thrr-gilag said, stepping up to him and gripping his arm. "I do seem to get home less and less frequently these fullarcs."

"You can't blame anyone but yourself for that one," Thrr-tulkoj pointed out, mock-seriously. "You pick a career that requires you to travel, and this is what happens."

"Now, let's not start that all over again," Thrr-gilag said, mock-warningly. The whole question of career choices had been the subject of many a long and earnest discussion when he and Thrr-tulkoj had been growing up. Over the cyclics it had evolved into something of a personal joke between them. "Anyway, it's not the travel so much as the long delays at the far end."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't know much about that," Thrr-tulkoj said. "I don't think I've gone outside Kee'rr territory three times in the past two cyclics."

"You're not missing much," Thrr-gilag assured him. "There have been plenty of times sitting in a field shelter waiting for an alien storm to blow over when I wished I'd chosen a protector's job instead."

"You'd never have made it," Thrr-tulkoj said decisively. "You're too good at thinking. And too rotten at shooting."

"Thank you so very much." Thrr-gilag looked over his friend's shoulder at the shrine. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Not too bad, really," Thrr-tulkoj said. "It's a shock, of course, for almost everyone. Takes a lot of getting used to, and of course he's only been at it for half a cyclic. But with an illness, at least, he was more or less prepared for the change. It's the ones who get unexpectedly raised to Eldership in sudden accidents who seem to have the hardest time of it."

"Yes," Thrr-gilag murmured, an edge of guilt prodding him. He really should have spent more time with his parents—should have made the time, no matter what the hectic schedule of his career. His brother, Thrr-mezaz, had certainly managed it, despite the responsibilities and demands that came with being a warrior. "How's my mother handling it?"

"Well, that's a different story entirely," Thrr-tulkoj said, his tongue flicking oddly. "But I think you'd better hear that from your father."

Thrr-gilag's tail twitched. So he'd been right: there had indeed been something behind Thrr-mezaz's words in that last conversation. "I see. Well, I'd better go call him, then."

"Stop back before you leave," Thrr-tulkoj invited, stepping back into the shelter of the dome. "Maybe we can find time to get caught up on things before you head off-planet again."

"We can certainly try," Thrr-gilag agreed. "I can't make any promises, though—my schedule's going to be pretty tight."

"Sad," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in mock-disappointment. "You young people growing up and leaving home..."

"Thank you, grandfather, and I'll see you later," Thrr-gilag said dryly, stepping between the domes and walking toward the shrine. Thrr-tulkoj, of course, would be seeing Thrr-gilag the whole time if he wanted to, as would whoever was playing backstop in the other dome. One of the best-kept secrets about shrine-defender domes was that, once the door was closed, they became perfectly transparent from the inside.

Easy to see through, and equally easy to fire through. Criticism of tradition there might be out there, but Elders didn't take many chances with the defense of their fsss organs.

Up close, a family shrine was even more impressive than it was at a distance. Nearly nine strides tall—three times taller than the smaller cutting pyramid they'd had on Base World 12—it was dotted with upwards of forty thousand niches. Thrr-gilag had no idea which of them was his father's, but it really didn't matter. Right up beside the shrine like this, all the Elders would be able to hear his voice, carried directly to them through their fsss organs. "Thrr't-rokik?" he called. "It's Thrr-gilag."

There was a flicker, and his father was there in front of him. "Hello, my son," he said, his voice faint but with its well-remembered warmth. "It's good to see you."

"And you, my father," Thrr-gilag said, the remnants of his guilt washing away in a sudden surge of emotion. His father; and yet, not really his father. His father as fragile spirit, a voice and faint image of what he'd once been, his physical body long since consigned to the fire.

His father as Elder.

Thrr-tulkoj had been right. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.

"You're looking well," Thrr't-rokik said. "I'd heard you were on Oaccanv; I'd rather expected you would get in touch with me sooner."

"I'm sorry," Thrr-gilag said. "I've been rather busy."

"So I hear." His father eyed him closely. "I also hear that not all has been going well for you."

"No." Thrr-gilag glanced up at the shrine towering above him. "That was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."

"Well, as it happens, I'm free for the postmidarc," Thrr't-rokik said with a smile. "Shall we walk over to the bluff overview?"

To the bluff, and away from the unavoidable eavesdropping that would take place beside the shrine itself. "Certainly," Thrr-gilag said, turning and heading across the grass.

The overview was relatively modest, as such things went: a slight rise leading up to the predator fence, with the land then dropping off steeply into a rocky bluff just outside the fence. Past the edge of the bluff Thrr-gilag could see one of the minor tributaries of the Amt'bri River as it wended its casual way through the wooded plain below. Beyond the woods, some of the higher towers of the Hlim-family city of Hlimni's Glen were visible.

"The Thrr leaders are talking again about putting up a new shrine," Thrr't-rokik commented. "I've been trying to talk them into locating it down there in the woods, close enough that we could hear the river."

"They'll never do it," Thrr-gilag said. "Not that close to a river. Too much risk of flood damage."

Thrr't-rokik sniffed. "Flood damage. The Amt'bri hasn't flooded in probably two hundred cyclics. But you're right, too many people would be afraid. Sometimes I think Elders are the most timid creatures in existence."

"You can't really blame them," Thrr-gilag shrugged. "When you're that close to the unknowns of death, I suppose it's natural to try to hold on as tightly as you can."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "Personally, I think that being terrified of taking the most minuscule of chances is no way to live."

Thrr-gilag looked off across the valley. "We're certainly taking chances now," he said. "Every one of us."

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik agreed quietly. "The Human-Conquerors. You've seen them up close, Thrr-gilag. What do you think?"

"Of the Humans, or of our chances against them?"

"Either. Both."

Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue against the top of his mouth. "I don't know, Father. I really don't. They're fearsome and dangerous enemies—there's no doubt about that. But at the same time there are things about them that don't seem to fit together. Large inconsistencies in their aggressiveness level, for one thing."

"They're aliens, after all," Thrr't-rokik reminded him. "Their reasons for doing things don't have to be the same as ours."

"True," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's one other possibility: that the Humans aren't the vicious warmongers we've been led to believe."

Thrr't-rokik frowned. "What are you talking about? They attacked first."

Thrr-gilag turned again to look down at the river. "Unless the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command were wrong about that."

He could feel his father's gaze on him. "You mean mistaken?"

"Or just wrong."

For a long beat the rustling of the trees below was the only sound. Thrr-gilag kept his eyes on the valley and river, not daring to see what his father's expression might be. "You realize what you're saying," Thrr't-rokik said at last. "You're accusing the Overclan Seating of deliberately starting a war. And of then lying to the Zhirrzh people about it."

"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "Are you saying our leaders are incapable of lying?"

Thrr't-rokik snorted. "Hardly. Still, people generally lie for specific purposes. For personal gain, or to evade punishment or other trouble. What motivation would the Overclan Seating have to lie about a Human-Conqueror attack?"

"I don't know," Thrr-gilag said. "But I also can't simply dismiss the eye-witness testimony of the Human Pheylan Cavanagh. And he was apparently convinced that the Zhirrzh ships fired first."

Thrr't-rokik snorted. "You accuse your own leaders of lying yet assume a vicious would-be conqueror would tell you the truth?"

"I know it seems backward," Thrr-gilag conceded. "But he hung strongly to his story the whole time he was our prisoner. Longer than I would expect someone who knows he is lying would do."

For another few beats Thrr't-rokik was silent. "You're not just telling me all this to hear my opinions on the subject. What is it you want?"

Thrr-gilag braced himself. "Two of those survey ships were Kee'rr. I was hoping you could arrange for me to talk to one of the Elders who was aboard."

"I was afraid that was it," Thrr't-rokik said heavily. "Do you have any idea of the penalties involved with that sort of unauthorized communication?"

"I'm willing to take the risk," Thrr-gilag said.

"I wasn't thinking of your risk," Thrr't-rokik retorted icily. "I was thinking of the other Elder's. If Warrior Command caught him talking privately about sensitive warrior matters, they could summarily take his communicator position away from him. Are you willing to have that on your conscience?"

"Not really," Thrr-gilag said, feeling ashamed that that aspect hadn't even occurred to him. With fsss-cutting techniques had come an exponential explosion in the number of jobs available for Elders, everything from the simple participation in interstellar communication pathways to the more demanding professional roles of planetary explorer or searcher assistant. But such jobs still numbered only in the low billions; and with well over three hundred billion Elders clamoring for some way to fill their time, the permanent loss of a job was not a threat to be taken lightly. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."

There was another pause. "This is very important to you, isn't it, my son?" Thrr't-rokik asked, his voice gentle again.

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said. "And worth a fair amount of risk. But for me, not for someone else."

Thrr't-rokik sighed, a whisper against the background breezes. "Wait here. I'll see what I can do."

He vanished. Thrr-gilag leaned against the predator fence, gazing out again at the woods and river. The woods, the river, and the never-ending problem of what to do with the ever-growing number of Elders.

On one side it could be seen as a simple problem of storage. The shrine towering behind him had enough niches for forty thousand fsss organs, and it had taken the Thrr family nearly two hundred cyclics to fill it to capacity. Another shrine, wherever it was put up, would probably do them for two centuries more.

But on the other side it was an incredibly complex issue, a problem that sliced through to the very soul of Zhirrzh culture. In generations past all Zhirrzh had lived comfortably together, with Elders moving freely through the homes and lives of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For many of the Elders that was the way it had always been and thus the way it should continue to be.

But nothing ever remained the same, not even with the weight of a thousand cyclics of tradition bearing down on it. And as the basic underlying conception of Zhirrzh society was changing, so too was the view of the Elders' role in it.

There was a flicker and Thrr't-rokik was back, another Elder at his side. "This is my son, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik said, gesturing to Thrr-gilag with his tongue. "He was one of the alien-research group studying the Human-Conqueror prisoner. This"—he gestured to his companion—"is Bvee't-hibbin, a distant cousin of your mother's line. He's one of the communicators aboard the Far Searcher."

Thrr-gilag felt his tail speed up. One of the four survey ships that had been in that first contact with the Humans. "Honored to meet you," he said.

"Yes," Bvee't-hibbin said, running an obviously critical eye over Thrr-gilag. "So you're the one. Perhaps you don't care, Searcher, but I consider you personally responsible for the fact that one of my great-great-nephews has arrived prematurely at the family shrine."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said, wincing again with painful memory of his failure. "Seven others were also raised to Eldership in the Humans' attack."

"Did you know as well that he is still without sanity?" Bvee't-hibbin demanded. "Seven fullarcs since his arrival, and he's still twisted in shock. Seven fullarcs; and no one will predict for his family when he'll be recovered."

"You can hardly blame Thrr-gilag for that," Thrr't-rokik put in gently. "Base World Twelve is two hundred fifty light-cyclics from Oaccanv. Drawn from such a distance, it was inevitable that his initial anchoring would be severely traumatic. It's the price we pay for our expansion to the stars."

The anger drained from Bvee't-hibbin's face, leaving only weariness behind. "Perhaps it's too high a price, Thrr't-rokik," he said with a whisper of a sigh. "Perhaps some fullarc we'll stretch too far and condemn new Elders to a madness that will never end."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik said. "But that limit is still well beyond our current knowledge. If it exists at all. For myself, I have a great faith in the strength and resilience of the Zhirrzh spirit."

"Perhaps." Bvee't-hibbin seemed to draw himself together again. "I'm told you have questions, Searcher Thrr-gilag. What is it you wish to know that only I can tell you?"

"I spent a great deal of time with the Human prisoner, Communicator," Thrr-gilag said. "It was his contention that the Zhirrzh ships, not his, were the aggressors at the battle."

Bvee't-hibbin snorted. "And you believe an alien instead of your own leaders?"

"I want to make sure no mistake has been made," Thrr-gilag countered.

"Then listen and believe, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Bvee't-hibbin said bluntly. "I was there... and the Human-Conquerors most certainly attacked first."

"You're sure of that?" Thrr't-rokik asked.

"When a warcraft sweeps focused Elderdeath weapons across your fsss cutting, it can hardly be mistaken for anything else," Bvee't-hibbin snapped. "And you'd both better hope you never have to feel that kind of pain yourselves."

His gaze drifted away. "It never stopped," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Never. Their warcraft blanketed the whole region with the pain, their explosive missiles drove focused cones of it ahead of them—even after they were defeated and their warcraft burned to dust, they didn't let up the attack."

He looked up out of the memories at Thrr-gilag. "All except your prisoner. Alone of all of them he voluntarily shut off his Elderdeath weapon. That was what caught our commanders' notice in the first place. That, along with the fact that he was trying to move his spacecraft out of the battle region. Our ship commanders interpreted that as evidence of below-average aggression and decided to take him for further study."

His mouth twisted. "You saw how well that decision turned out."

Thrr-gilag nodded, a bitter taste beneath his tongue. So that was that. Pheylan Cavanagh had indeed known about the Elderdeath weapons—obviously, since he'd shut his off. And he'd been lying about it the whole time. "I see," he murmured.

"Was there anything else?" Bvee't-hibbin asked.

"No," Thrr-gilag said. Pheylan Cavanagh had lied to him. Somehow he still couldn't believe it. "Thank you, Bvee't-hibbin. I and my family are in your debt and your family's."

"I wouldn't commit your family to too much if I were you," Bvee't-hibbin suggested, the first hint of humor peeking through his stiff manner. "Particularly not with the trouble you're in right now. I wish you good luck, though. If only for the honor of the Kee'rr."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said dryly. "I'll do my best not to let the Kee'rr down."

"Farewell." Bvee't-hibbin nodded and vanished.

"Does that set your fears at rest?" Thrr't-rokik asked.

"I suppose," Thrr-gilag said reluctantly. "Now if I could just answer the question of whether or not the Humans have Elders of their own."

"Yes, I heard about the stir you caused in the Overclan Seating with that suggestion," Thrr't-rokik said. "Do you really believe that might be true, or were you just trying to carve a slice out of their complacence?"

"I certainly wasn't trying to slice anything," Thrr-gilag said. "Whether there's any truth to it, I really don't know."

"Their use of Elderdeath weapons doesn't necessarily mean anything," his father pointed out. "All the alien races the Zhirrzh have encountered have attacked us that same way, and yet none of them have had Elders."

"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's more. The fact that they used the Elderdeath weapons directly against the study group's pyramid on Study World Eighteen, for example, implies they knew what they were doing. Plus that fsss-sized incision in the Human prisoner's lower torso, which has yet to be explained. That was one of the reasons I didn't want him killed during his escape attempt, by the way. If they have Elders, that would merely have sent him back home."

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said thoughtfully. "And of course there was the theft of Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting from the Dorcas beachhead."

Thrr-gilag felt his tail twitch. "So that one's gotten around, too."

"You weren't expecting it to?" his father countered. "That was not a wise thing for you to talk about, Thrr-gilag."

"I know," Thrr-gilag sighed. "Certain members of the Overclan Seating were none too happy about it, either."

"More unhappy than you know," Thrr't-rokik said darkly. "I'm starting to hear rumors that the leaders and Elders of the Dhaa'rr are beginning to reconsider their approval of your bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, his midlight pupils contracting to slits. "They can't do that," he protested. "They've already agreed to it."

"I know," Thrr't-rokik said. "But between your trouble on Base World Twelve and your brother Thrr-mezaz's role in the loss of Prr't-zevisti, the Dhaa'rr are furious with the whole Thrr family. And considering how unenthusiastic most of the Elders were about allowing a Dhaa'rr and Kee'rr to bond in the first place..." He flicked his tongue in a negative.

Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth. He'd suspected from the start that it was his mishandling of things that had kept the Dhaa'rr leaders from assigning Klnn-dawan-a to the Mrachani study group, settling on the vastly less competent Gll-borgiv instead. But this was a blow he had somehow never anticipated. "Has there been any official action yet?" he asked.

"Not that I've heard of," Thrr't-rokik said. "I take it you're going to try to head it off?"

"You take it right," Thrr-gilag said, the shock of betrayal beginning to give way to an icy anger. He and Klnn-dawan-a had had to fight uphill once already against the Elders—from both their clans—and these stupid antiquated prejudices against interclan bonding. Now, it seemed, they were going to have to do it all over again. "I have to get in touch with Klnn-dawan-a right away. Let her know what's going on."

"I suggest you speak with her in person," Thrr't-rokik warned. "If the Dhaa'rr Elders find out you know, they're likely to push the clan leaders all the harder."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said. "The problem is, she's out on Gree with a group studying the Chig. That's a two-fullarc round trip right there."

"Is your timing that tight?"

"It's reasonably tight, yes," Thrr-gilag said. "But it's what I've got, and I'll just have to make do." He hesitated. "You haven't said what the response of Klnn-dawan-a's immediate family has been."

"I haven't heard anything one way or the other about them," Thrr't-rokik said. "But unless you hear otherwise, I'd suggest you assume they're still behind you. Klnn-dawan-a's family are good people." He paused. "And of course it goes without saying that your own immediate family will support you."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said. "That helps."

"It supplies some emotional support, at any rate," his father said. "I only wish one of our two families had more political pull with our respective clans. A lifetime of work in ceramics design does not exactly heap up huge piles of favors. Especially with—"

He broke off, flicking his tongue in an oddly impatient gesture. "You'd better get moving if you're going to make it to Gree and back," he said, his voice suddenly brisk. "If you have time, stop back and see me before you go off to whatever the Overclan Seating has scheduled next for you. I presume you know that you don't have to come all the way out here to speak with me, by the way. As long as you're within a hundred thoustrides of the shrine, you can call Thrr-tulkoj or one of the other protectors on the direct-link and they can send me to wherever you are."

"I know," Thrr-gilag assured him. "And one way or the other, I promise I'll talk to you after I get back from Gree."

"Good. In the meantime I have friends with access to Unity City. I'll see what other information I can dig up."

"All right," Thrr-gilag said. "You know, you really ought to consider having a cutting taken. You could get yourself a niche in a pyramid near Unity City and watch all this political stuff directly instead of having to sift through rumors."

Again his father's tongue flicked oddly. "No, I don't think so," he said. "Not now. Tell me, are you going to see your mother before you go?"

"I'd planned to," Thrr-gilag said, frowning at the abrupt change of topic. "Thrr-mezaz told me she'd moved out to Reeds Village?"

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said. "About thirty fullarcs ago. You were out on Study World Fifteen during the preparations; and then this whole Human-Conqueror thing came up, and you were rushed out to Base World Twelve."

"Yes, I've been busy," Thrr-gilag said, studying his father's transparent face. "Hardly out of touch, though. What is it you and Thrr-mezaz aren't telling me?"

Thrr't-rokik looked away. "Perhaps it would be best if you spoke with her for yourself," he said. "If you have time, that is. This matter with Klnn-dawan-a should take precedence."

"My family takes precedence," Thrr-gilag told him firmly. "I'll make the time."

It was only a five-hunbeat walk to the rail stop near the shrine. Three cars were waiting there on the siding; climbing into the first, Thrr-gilag fed in his value number and keyed for the main nexus at Cliffside Dales. The car beeped its acceptance and eased onto the main rail, and they were off.

There was a flicker, and an Elder appeared in front of him. "You are Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr?" he asked.

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said.

"I was told you wanted information on space-flight schedules," the Elder said briskly. "When, and to where?"

"As soon as possible," Thrr-gilag said, wondering what had taken the travel communicator so long to get out there to him. He'd put in the request with Thrr-tulkoj before leaving the shrine. "Destination is the planet Gree."

"Gree?" The Elder seemed taken aback. "That's a Chig world."

"There are indeed large numbers of Chig on it," Thrr-gilag agreed. "Along with a few hundred Zhirrzh in about fifty study groups."

The Elder sniffed. "The proper study of Zhirrzh is Zhirrzh," he said primly. "What anyone thinks they're going to find on a planet full of aliens I'll never know."

"I'm sure you won't," Thrr-gilag said, not trying overly hard to hide his disgust. With Human forces gathering against the Zhirrzh like storm clouds over a field of grain, it should be blindingly obvious that the ability to understand alien cultures was going to be of critical importance in the fullarcs ahead. Obviously, there were still Zhirrzh too stupid to understand that. "Just check the schedule for me, please."

The Elder sniffed again and was gone. Thrr-gilag turned back to the window, running the numbers through his mind. One fullarc each way to Gree; six and a half until he needed to check in again with Nzz-oonaz and the rest of the Mrachani study group. That left barely four and a half fullarcs to try to get all this straightened out.

He gazed at the scenery going past outside, a twinge of guilt tugging at him. He really ought to call the Overclan before he headed off-world this way. The Overclan, or at the very least Nzz-oonaz. Let someone in authority know where he was going and what he was doing.

But if he did that, Speaker Cvv-panav would almost certainly find out about it. And he'd either summarily cancel Thrr-gilag's trip or else push the Dhaa'rr clan leaders to move even more quickly on their repudiation of his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. Or both.

Besides, there was no reason why anyone in Unity City would need him for the next few fullarcs. The Mrachani bodies weren't going to need any more examination, and Nzz-oonaz surely had the study group's end of the upcoming voyage under control. And if for some reason he needed help, Gll-borgiv and the Dhaa'rr would be more than happy to assist.

And anyway, Thrr-gilag would be back well before the time he'd been told to return. No, best just to keep it quiet.

With a flicker the Elder was back. "A warrior supply flight leaves for the Gree encirclement forces in seven tentharcs," he growled. "It'll be lifting from the warrior field at Pathgate; flight time approximately nine tentharcs. Do you wish a place reserved for you?"

"Please," Thrr-gilag said, holding out his identification card and, for good measure, his Overclan-complex pass.

"Um," the Elder said, peering at the cards. "The reservation will be made in your name. Payment is due one tentharc before departure."

"I understand," Thrr-gilag said. A hundred cyclics ago, right after the first credit/debit system had been set up, Elders had carried value numbers directly between buyers and sellers. But as the system had expanded, someone had belatedly realized that Elders who could handle whole sections of a conversation should have no trouble at all memorizing a few strings of numbers. A handful of dishonest Elders had been caught proving it—to the tune of nearly half a million in fraudulent purchases and fund transfers—and that had been that. "Thank you."

The Elder sniffed one last time and was gone. "You're welcome," Thrr-gilag murmured, settling tiredly back against the railcar couch. Seven tentharcs before lift. Plenty of time to get to Reeds Village first and see his mother.

And to find out what was going on out there that neither his father nor his brother would tell him about.

He sighed. It was unfair. It really was. This looming war against the Humans was enough trouble for anyone to have to handle. To throw in family and personal crises on top of it was asking far too much.