The Great Hydration

CHAPTER FOUR

Black Gamintes from the Trusk region were what the Tlixix used as the market’s slender guard force. On finding the radiator missing, Hrityu had immediately rushed to find one.

The Tlixix had been quickly informed. Hrityu expected them to be very angry indeed. The market was a sacrosanct place and neither violence nor theft were permitted there. The Tlixix knew very well that their credibility depended on the observance of those rules.

Just the same, the Analane trembled with nervousness as they stood before the two Tlixix who were to investigate the case. For one of them was none other than Rherrsherrsh, the Market Master himself.

They had not hesitated to accuse the hated Crome who earlier had taunted them. He therefore stood by their side, as well as Nussmussa the Toureen, all surrounded by red-eyed Gamintes fingering their flingers, spiked silver hair glinting in the poor light.

The interior of the Pavilion of Audience was maintained more for the comfort of the Tlixix than for any other race. Out of deference to the petitioners the two market lords were ensconced in their usual tented bath couches, yet water still hung on the air, and the humanoids all experienced various degrees of physical discomfort.

Rherrsherrsh was an aging Tlixix, his antlers turning from white to greenish-grey with his advancing years. He bent towards Hrityu.

“This occurrence is of the utmost rarity, as well as of great gravity,” he said in the hoarse tones of his race. The Market Master’s displeasure was almost palpable. “Why do you accuse this Crome?”

“Our reasons are all too obvious, Market Master,” Hrityu began. “The Crome are at war with the Analane and are embarked on a campaign of extermination, from no other motive than blind hatred! We—”

A deep laugh from the Crome interrupted him. “No motive. Market Masters, the Analane are invading our territory. They have planted beds of their vile mould there and our own gardens of spine-plant have become infected with it. We shall die of starvation unless they are defeated.”

“New beds must be planted in new places!” Kurwer shouted excitedly. “The old beds do not stay productive.”

“It’s them or us, Market Master,” the Crome rumbled.

The antlers of both Tlixix waved in disapproval. “The conflict between you is not the subject of this hearing.”

Rherrsherrsh admonished. “Analane, continue with your accusation.”

“We have brought to the market an invention of great importance, which we hoped to exchange for some new weapons with which to defend our race,” Hrityu continued evenly. “Clearly this execrable Crome feared that our mission would be successful. Why, he even admitted to us that he is here to spy on us. Obviously, he stole our equipment to prevent that.”

The Crome’s lustrous black eyes shone. “We Crome are not so foolish,” he said. “We fear the Analane not at all, whatever weapons they procure. Besides, to commit this offence would risk the expulsion of my entire race from the market! Would I be so rash?” His green arm stabbed out at the Analane, his finger pointing. “I will suggest a more evident truth, market masters. The Analane had nothing with which to trade in the first place. This accusation of theirs is a ruse to bring the Crome into disfavour. They think it will somehow save their tribe from the annihilation which is their due!”

“It is indeed improbable that anyone would dare to steal on ground hallowed by the Tlixix,” Rherrsherrsh declared. Water sploshed and he reared intimidatingly over the humanoids. “What is the nature of this supposed invention?”

Hrityu hesitated. But he realized he had little choice but to reveal all.

“We call it a radiator. Through it, any sound including the spoken word can be conveyed for a distance of up to one hundred langs.”

There was silence, until the second Tlixix hoarsed into the conversation. “Useful perhaps if one is a hundred langs away. But is not such a vast noise unduly painful for anyone closer by?”

“The sounds are not made any louder,” Hrityu explained patiently. “They are heard only by whoever possesses a receiving apparatus. That is what makes the invention so useful, since messages sent that way are heard only by one’s friends and allies.”

Rherrsherrsh turned to his companion. “Is that possible?” he husked.

“I doubt it,” the other replied in a gravelly tone. He addressed Hrityu. “How does it work?”

Hrityu dithered, wondering how to put over so technical a matter. Kurwer came to his rescue.

“It creates sound of a subtle kind, which the ears cannot hear,” he said. “We call it radiation. It is far-reaching, like sunlight.”

“One can see it, then? See it but not hear it?”

Kurwer replied slowly, after a pause. “No, one cannot see it.”

The pattering of water was the only sound to be heard. Hrityu rubbed his eyes, which the humidity had made sore.

The Crome chuckled. “If these Analane could invent machinery as well as they invent lies then we Crome might indeed have something to fear! Sound that cannot be heard, because it is light—except that it cannot be seen! Such soundless, invisible light describes their machine very well, because neither of them exist!”

Suddenly Rherrsherrsh turned to Nussmussa the Toureen. “Is it true you made an offer for this device?”

“Yes, Market Master.”

“Did you see it in operation?”

Nussmussa glanced at the Analane fretfully. “No, I did not. I did not see it at all, and the bargain was agreed only in principle. They took me to see the device, but it was not there.”

“More trickery!” the Crome jeered. “They duped this poor creature from a distant land so as to lend their story a semblance of credibility!”

“The radiator is real!” Kurwer burst out. “Our enemy the Crome stole it!”

Hrityu realized how badly the exchange was going. “Market Master,” he stuttered, “this device could be of great use to the Tlixix. It would enable messages to be passed instantly between the water refuges. We would gladly donate it in return for protection.”

“Then why did you not offer it to the Tlixix?” Rherrsherrsh retorted, with thunderous hoarseness.

Hrityu could not find a reply. The idea had been considered, but though the Tlixix liked to promulgate the idea that they could control all wars in the world, it was doubtful if their word alone could actually prevent one. The elders of the Analane had decided that the most likely outcome of such an offer was that the Tlixix would appropriate the device and then encourage the extermination of the Analane to give themselves a monopoly of it.

The two masters conferred together in rustles and clicks, faces almost touching, placed wetly against the fabric of their water-tents. Then Rherrsherrsh swung back to loom over the humanoids.

“There is too little evidence to support either version of events,” he husked. “The defence offered by the Crome, however, is more plausible than the complaint laid by the Analane, and we find in favour of the Crome. The making of a false accusation infringes the laws of the market. The race of the Analane is barred from dealing here henceforth.”

“That’s not fair!” Kurwer cried out.

The massive crustacean head, ancient and hoary, bent low over the Analane. This was the first time they had seen a Tlixix so close. The wet shell, the four tiny, white, expressionless eyes, the ever-restless feelers and whiskers, presented a vision that struck them both to the bone.

“We—we must be given time to search for our machine!” Hrityu stuttered. “To prove that it exists!”

The Tlixix deliberated. “Three days are allowed for that Purpose. The Gamintes, too, are ordered to search for the supposed apparatus during that time. To that end you will give them a complete physical description—if you can.”

The audience was at an end. All humanoids, even the Gamintes, were by now breathing with difficulty in the vapour-laden air, enclosed as it was by trickling walls and a moistly shining floor. Yet as they left the pavilion the Analane could only feel despair, despite the physical relief.

“They are against us!” Kurwer wailed. “What can we do?”

Hrityu shook his head sadly. “I do not think they believe the Crome’s word more than ours. They are driven by expediency. They may already have given the Crome permission to exterminate us, and wish to retain their support.”

The potential value of the radiator, he reflected, did not seem to have occurred to them. Or—a startling thought—did Rherrsherrsh think the Crome had stolen it, and would give it to them?

Nussmussa and the Crome departed in opposite directions. A Gaminte approached, questioning them on the appearance of the radiator. The jet-black creature spoke in a polite voice and ventured no opinion of his own. His face was blank with concentration as Hrityu described the apparatus.

“Something that size wouldn’t be easy to hide, unless it’s been smashed to pieces,” he said finally. “I suggest you search the market yourselves, since our own efforts will be scant. Remember, though—no fighting.”

He turned and strode away. Hrityu and Kurwer stood together on the sand, wondering how they could ever face their co-tribesmen now.