Memory

Chapter 12

At first we followed the highway south, as if to return to Temple Huacho. But once we rounded the hills that guarded the valley’s end we left the road, striking east into a trackless land of low hills and scattered trees. By dawn we’d put seventy miles behind us.

Udondi had her own field glasses. When the sun was well up we stopped, and she and Liam searched our trail, but they found no sign of pursuit. “Anyway, it’s too soon,” Liam said.

Udondi returned her field glasses to a battered saddle box. “Only if Indevar is alone.”

“Are you suspecting the Ano truckers too?”

“Better to be cautious, that’s all.”

Udondi had assured us that Indevar would sleep until noon, but what then? If he woke on a truck bound for Xahiclan, he might not get a ride back for many days. But if the truckers left him behind, it would be easy for him to find his way to Temple Huacho.

So I sent a message of warning to my mother, giving detailed descriptions of Mica Indevar and all the Ano truckers, and I instructed her to give no welcome to any of them should they appear at the temple gate. She surprised me with a reply even before I put my savant away: Jubilee, I will be cautious. But when the silver rises, all travelers are welcome at Temple Huacho.

What other answer had I expected? She was who she was, and I loved her for it, but it made me angry just the same. I felt torn. I wanted to be at Temple Huacho where I could protect my mother. But if I went home, I would be abandoning Jolly and that I could not do.

The day started bright and clear, but by midmorning clouds gathered, dark to match my mood. The land was changing too. We made good time in the gentle hills east of the highway, but our progress slowed as we entered a rising land of crumpled stone cut by steep ravines. When I looked back I was startled to see how far above the lowlands we had climbed. “Are these mountains?” I asked, looking ahead at a highland curtained by clouds.

“Not true mountains,” Udondi said. “This is the western escarpment of the Kalang Crescent. This part of the Kalang runs some eight hundred miles north to south, dividing the western lands from the southern reaches of the Iraliad. We’re near to its northern limit, where the escarpment swings easterly, to make a great crescent reaching far into the desert.” She frowned at the heights. “The plateau is supposed to be only twenty-five hundred feet high, though it looks higher to me. Anyway, it’s high enough to catch the clouds that come from the northern ocean, so it’ll be wet up there, and densely forested. But it’s also an empty land, and there’s a good chance we can make our way along the eastern spur without being seen. Then we could descend into the Iraliad, far beyond the reach of any permanent highway.”

This encyclopedic answer amazed me. “But I didn’t think you’d been in these lands before. How do you know so much of what is here?”

Udondi smiled. “I am new to this region. But I try to understand the temper of the land wherever I am, even if I’m only passing through… just in case something happens and I find myself in quiet flight before sunrise.”

I blushed, for I had not once thought to look at a map. I could not remember ever using one. There had never been a need. I knew every dell, every stream in Kavasphir, I knew how to find the highway, I knew how to follow the highway to Halibury, or Xahiclan—but every geography beyond that was only a vague reference in my mind.

By contrast, Liam had traveled a third of the way around the world and Udondi had likely wandered much farther. Her battered bike looked as if it had been all the way around the ring, though it still ran smooth and fast. I felt childish beside them, and very foolish, but also grateful I was not alone. “It’s lucky for Jolly he doesn’t have to count on just me to find him,” I said around a sudden constriction in my throat. “Or both of us might be lost forever.”

“If you got lost it would not be forever,” Liam said gruffly. “Jolly would not have a worry.”

I smiled my gratitude, but then I nodded again at the cloud-shrouded heights. All my life I had heard of the hazards of mountains. “Even if these are just little mountains, do we want to enter them? I have always heard there is a great danger of silver in any highland, and surely we cannot journey all the way down the eastern spur before nightfall?”

“Not unless we find a way to fly,” Udondi answered with a grin. “This is a rough land.”

“There’s no sign at all it’s settled,” Liam said doubtfully.

“That’s true. East and south there are no temples recorded on any maps I’ve seen. If we follow the Kalang Crescent we’ll have to camp for several nights, but it’s said silver is rarely seen in that forest. It’s an old land. Very old. We could be safe from Kaphiri there, at least for a while, for he cannot appear at will in a land where there is no silver, and he cannot bring the silver to such a place unless he first travels there like an ordinary man.”

“And if we go north?” Liam asked. “Following the foot of the crescent?”

“The terrain will get easier. In a hundred fifty miles or so there will even be a small highway that runs along the base of the Kalang and into the desert. There are temples there we could take shelter in, but…”

“But where there are temples, there are also truckers,” I finished for her.

“So the wise course would be to chance the forest,” Liam said, “except I have to wonder, if this land is as quiet as you say, why have we seen no sign of settlements? Safe lands are not so common that players will overlook them year after year.”

Udondi turned her hands palm up. “I truly don’t know. But no land is safe without a sheltering temple and there are none here.”

For myself, I wanted to travel unobserved for as many days as possible and I was willing to risk mountains, albeit small ones, to do that. So after a few more minutes of discussion we agreed to try the Kalang Crescent, and we set out again on our climb toward the clouds.

There is a problem with forests where abundant rain falls. It’s a matter of recursion. Dominating everything is the primary forest of tall trees, but beneath that there is a smaller forest of slender shrubs and fallen trunks, and beneath these are smaller species still, and for all I know there are greater and lesser levels of microforests among the mosses that grow upon the ground.

On the escarpment the vegetation soon grew so dense that only an army of highway-building kobolds would have a hope of finding a straight path through it. Being only three players on bikes, we were forced to follow winding game trails that had mostly been made by creatures much shorter than a player seated on a bike.

I leaned close against the handlebars, but branches still whipped my face and shoulders. Beneath me, the bike tires stretched and jumped and grabbed for traction, kicking up mud as they fought to keep balance, and to climb, but their vertical reach was only ten inches. Every minute or two we’d have to stop and lift the front tires of our bikes over a rock step, or onto a fallen trunk, and once we had to port all three bikes across a narrow ravine with near-vertical walls, because we could not get up the speed to jump it. It was hard work, but at least it was not hot. Clouds closed in around us just past noon, drawing curtains of fine gray mist across the last views of the lowlands, and shortly after that it began to rain.

We kept on. Several times the game trails vanished against vertical stone, or disappeared into fast white streams, or wandered back downhill where we did not want to go. At such times we struggled to turn the bikes around and then we backtracked, looking for any suggestion of an opening in the dripping vegetation.

It was very late on that dreary afternoon when we finally reached the top of the escarpment. We topped out beside a trickle of water that drained an odd little meadow of thick grasses that turned out, on closer inspection, to be a bog. It looked like paradise to me. “Let’s camp here,” I said, dropping the kickstand on my bike. I gave into exhaustion and tumbled to the soft ground, sure that I could not get any wetter, until I felt chill water seeping against my shoulder blades. Oh, well. Moki jumped down from his perch in the saddle bin to lick my face. Then he raced away, happy to stretch his legs.

Gigantic trees leaned over the little bog, ghostly gray silhouettes that faded in and out of the mist. I could hear birds calling in small, squeaky voices, but I could not see them.

Udondi and Liam had gone on across the clearing but they stopped when they saw I was not following. “Jubilee?” Liam called, his voice strangely muffled by the mist.

“Let’s camp here,” I repeated. “It’s the only place we’ve seen all afternoon with enough room to unroll a sleeping bag.”

“We can camp here if you want,” Udondi said. “But come closer to the trees. It’s dryer.”

“There is no such thing as dry!” Just the same, I forced myself up one more time, climbed onto the bike, and trundled across the spongy ground.

I got a surprise when I reached the trees. All those layers of greater and lesser forests that we had squirmed through on the journey up the escarpment did not exist here on the plateau. Beneath the trees the ground was carpeted with moss—nothing but moss. Raindrops glittered like tiny diamonds strewn across the perfect green. I could see into the forest for maybe twenty yards before the mist closed in and it was like that everywhere: huge tree trunks and a green moss carpet. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath of contentment. “So, I guess we could sleep anywhere here.”

And that’s what I did. I rolled out my sleeping bag, switched on the heat, and crawled inside with a dinner packet, drifting off before it was half-eaten.

Moki must have finished the rest, for the packet was empty when I wakened to the old-man voice of my savant. Night had fallen, and the rain had stopped. Stars glittered to the west, where I could see past the bog to the edge of the escarpment and the vista beyond. The savant floated beside me, gleaming silver, just an inch or two above the ground. Liam must have gotten it out of my saddle bin and set it to watch.

“What is it?” I whispered, listening to the soft breathing of the others from the darkness nearby.

“A call from Yaphet.”

Yaphet. I’d almost forgotten about him.

“What time is it?”

“Thirty minutes past midnight.”

Ah. Our usual time of discourse. I slipped out of my sleeping bag into a night colder than any I had felt before. I drew in a sharp breath. I had always heard that mountains were cold; it snows in the mountains after all, though never in the lowlands. I wondered if it might snow on us before we crossed the Kalang.

My field jacket was still damp, but I pulled it close anyway. Moki appeared from somewhere, and with the savant soaring beside us to light the way, we stumbled toward the bog.

That night the Bow of Heaven remained invisible, but the stars were bright and I could just make out the edge of the escarpment. An exposed rock, softened by moss, sufficed for a rather soggy bench. Above and beyond and even beneath me, stars filled the black canopy of the sky. I had never looked down on stars before. We were that high and for several seconds all I could do was stare at them until the savant whispered again for my attention. “This is a time-limited channel.”

“All right. Link. Link now. Yaphet?”

The warning placard appeared, then immediately minimized, and Yaphet was there—still at home in his room. I was surprised at the rush of relief I felt knowing he had not left home. “Jubilee.” He looked at me with worried eyes. “Were you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know if I should call.”

“It’s all right.”

He searched my eyes, as if seeking there for some hidden truth. “You’re okay?”

“A lot has happened, since we talked last.”

“You’re not at home, are you?”

“No.” I pushed at my disheveled hair, then drew a deep breath, trying to drive away the lethargy of sleep. We had only a few minutes. “I’ve left home. My brother—my older brother—though he’s younger than I am now—he was taken by the silver years ago. I never told you about him, Yaphet. His name was… is Jolly. We thought he was dead, but he’s not. He’s alive but lost. He’s at a station in the Iraliad. I’m going after him. You must not tell anyone this. Yaphet? Do you understand?”

His scowl told me he did not. “This isn’t funny.”

“It isn’t meant to be.”

“You’ve set out for Vesarevi, haven’t you? Why don’t you just say so?”

“Because I haven’t. And I won’t. Not until I get my brother home.”

He looked at me doubtfully. “You’re… serious?”

“Yes. The ruined city, I told you about that. It was from the time of Fiaccomo.”

He nodded stiffly. He still did not believe. And yet he did. I could see that conflict on his face.

“I think my brother is somehow like Fiaccomo—”

“No. That’s imposs—”

“Just listen!” I hissed. “There is another who is not destroyed by the silver and he is hunting my brother too. It’s why you must tell no one. No one.”

He looked at me in helpless confusion, before remembering himself. “Our time…” He gestured to the corner of the screen.

I glanced at the clock. Our time was almost up. “I’ll call you when I can, and explain more.”

“Where in the Iraliad?” he asked quickly. “Where are you going?”

Would he come if I told him? Would he? Did I want him to?

“Jubilee, you know I’d never do anything to bring you harm. Tell me.”

And if he would harm me? I would know it now, before I ever met him. Until that time, I would still have a choice. “Rose Island Station,” I whispered.

“Okay.” The link closed, and he was gone.

I sighed deeply and shoved the savant away, watching its silvery wing shape bobble on the air, wondering what Yaphet would choose to do. It was Moki’s soft growl that brought me back to the present.

He stood on the rock beside me, staring down the escarpment, at the track we had come up that afternoon. I leaned forward, striving to see past the darkness beneath the trees, fully expecting Kaphiri to appear on the trail we had made, a shadow walking out of the shadows, but I could see nothing. I heard nothing, but Moki growled again and when I laid a comforting hand on his back I felt his red fur raised high.

It might be a lion stalking us. And my rifle was still on my bike. “Liam!” I shouted, and my voice echoed across the escarpment.

I listened for the sound of some great creature charging through the forest below, but I heard only Liam and Udondi calling me. “Jubilee! Where are you?”

“By the escarpment. Pull the rifles. Moki thinks something’s down there.”

Then several things happened at once. Behind me I heard Liam bounding across the bog. Beside me Moki danced back, barking furiously—his high-pitched warning bark exactly like that night the silver came for Jolly. My heart turned over. I rose to my feet.

I saw it then: a silver-colored worm sliding uphill along the track we had followed in the afternoon. It did not gleam like a savant, but its surface caught the starlight so it looked like a faintly glittering cord of light. I guessed it to be six feet long, but very thin, probably no more than an inch in diameter. It moved with stunning speed, not slowing for rocks or the rough terrain as any organic creature would, but gliding over them as if it truly was made of light. By this unnatural locomotion I knew at once it was a mechanic, and with equal certainty I guessed it had been sent to hunt us.

Moki’s barking grew more frantic and he scampered back, showing more sense than me. I should have retreated. But I’d seen the worm move and I knew I couldn’t outrun it. So I scrambled higher onto the rock outcropping where I had been sitting.

I didn’t see the worm reach the edge of the escarpment. It was just there, sliding out of the grass and onto the moss-slick rocks where I stood. A bullet whined, smacking the stone just ahead of the worm, throwing mud and moss and sharp rock flecks into my face.

I slipped. I went down on my side and the worm was on me. It slid over my legs, then across my chest. I grabbed at it, just as its tiny mouth flared open, exposing the glittering point of a single tiny fang. In my hands I felt cold metal scales; on my neck, a piercing pinpoint of pain. I flung the worm away over the precipice. Two rifle shots followed as I regained my feet and jumped down to the bog. I was halfway back to the forest when my legs gave out beneath me.

All that night I was in a strange state, drifting in and out of consciousness. Somehow, I was back in my sleeping bag. I thought I was warm, but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t even certain I was breathing. Somewhere in the distance I heard Moki bark in his high, frantic voice. I heard Liam shout and Udondi answer and the rifle sounded again.

I remembered the feel of the worm’s cold metal scales and thought, This is Mica Indevar’s revenge. The worm was his. It had to be his. He’d sent it to follow our trail.

Then maybe the poison wouldn’t kill me. Maybe it was no worse than the sleeping drug Udondi had used on him. Except I wasn’t asleep. I was dreadfully aware.

I could not turn my head. I could not even tell if my eyes were blinking, but I could see and hear. Moki was barking again, far away, while down the wide trunk of the tree beside me something crawled. Something silvery white just like the worm.

A savant must have been gleaming behind me, because a circle of faint light fell against the tree trunk. As this thing crawled into that radiance I saw it was not the worm. Instead, it was a thing like a mantis, but larger than any insect I had ever seen, as tall as my hand is long.

It crawled headfirst down the rough bark of the tree trunk, stepping carefully on four legs while holding two front limbs close to its body. Its long neck was capped by a triangular head just large enough to hold its two wide, pale eyes. They were not animal eyes. There was no white, no iris, no pupil. Just a dry disk, striated by a circular fan of white rays, marking it as a mechanic, but one very different from the worm.

I screamed for Liam, but the sound was trapped inside my mind.

The mechanic reached the base of the tree’s trunk. It stepped gingerly out onto the thick moss.

Liam!

I could hear him and Udondi in the distance, calling to one another in the sharp, staccato voices of hunters close on the prey.

The mechanic raised its forelimbs before my staring eyes. One was a large pincer, more slender than a river crab’s. One was like the blades of a pair of serrated knives. From a mouth in its chest it spoke in a strange, unpracticed voice like a rusty hinge swinging: “These trees are Kalang’s. To harm them is not allowed.”

It waited as if for an answer. When it did not get one it turned and disappeared back up the same tree it had descended.

I still could not move. I could not speak. But I could feel my heartbeat racing in helpless fear.

Some long time passed. Then finally Liam came by and made me close my eyes.