The knowledge of his capture burned in my mind. He had given his freedom, maybe his sanity, to protect Taquinil and me. I wouldn't let that sacrifice go for naught. I would make it home and I would find Taquinil. If only I could remember what should have happened here.
J'chabi Na.
My steps faltered. A name. In my Iotic accent, I had trouble with the glottal stop in J'chabi and pronounced it as "Jaichabi." It translated as "watcher." J'chabi Na played a role in this.
"Hajune Tailor." I glanced up at him, aware of his height and powerful build. "Know you a man named Jaichabi Na?"
His face became even more closed. "City Shay, he is."
"He lives here?"
"Yes."
A rush of emotion hit me, so powerful it felt visceral. What? Fear? But without threat. J'chabi Na had importance. I didn't know what provoked the fear, but I needed to see him. I trusted my intuition; it had always proved solid, and now it was also augmented by analyses my neural nodes performed at an almost subconscious level.
"I must find him," I said.
Hajune clenched his fist. "Why?"
"He may have answers about my husband." I hoped.
"J'chabi Na is city Shay."
"Yes. City Shay."
He stopped and stood, large and forbidding, staring off into the trees. I waited with him. Just when I felt certain he would leave me here and return to the forest, he brought his gaze back to me. "Come, then. I will take you."
* * *
As the sun passed overhead, Hajune led me up dark green steps carved in the tripod leg of a tree. At the place where the legs joined into a massive trunk, the stair became a spiral that wound around the tree. Fifteen large people could have circled that trunk, holding hands, their arms outstretched. And it was only moderate in size compared to the other trees.
We climbed about a hundred more meters, passing several levels of the city. People peered out at us from houses within the trunk. Apparently the tree could go on living after having parts of its column hollowed out. Perhaps nutrients traveled in the outer layers, making the core less necessary for survival. It didn't even need all of its outer portions; the houses had many windows. It intrigued me that the Shay chose to build here, where Slowcoal saturated the city with ruddy light.
Far above the ground, Hajune led me across a bridge made from vines and solidified pulp. It hung between two giant trees, narrow and supple. The bridge swayed with his weight and long-legged stride. It provided the only access to the trunk we were approaching.
"No stairs?" I asked.
"No stairs," Hajune agreed.
I tried again. "What if this bridge breaks?"
"Build another."
The tree we were approaching had no stairs. "What happens to the people on that tree when the bridge is out?"
"They get hungry." Hajune stopped and turned back to me. "Only wing-things up here to eat." He touched my hair, which had acquired a covering of gauzy black and gold fliers. "Like these."
My stomach flipped-flopped. "People eat these?"
"They do not taste so terrible." He turned and set off again.
I followed, glad I didn't live on Opalite. I had my doubts about the cuisine.
At the end of the bridge, Hajune stepped onto a narrow deck that circled the tree. As we walked around the trunk, I glanced at the windows above us. Shutters covered most, but I thought someone looked at us from the darkness beyond one portal.
On the far side we came to a short stairway that penetrated into the trunk. Climbing the stairs, we entered a tunnel of dark green walls. At the top, Hajune halted before a rounded door. Then he stepped aside for me. "Home this is, to J'chabi Na."
I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead. I still couldn't remember J'chabi Na. Many reasons existed for his name to stay in my mind; he might be my contact, or he could be a traitor, the reason my escape route had partially failed. I might be about to greet an enemy. But I became more agitated when I considered leaving this place than when I thought of staying.
"How do we let him know we are here?" I asked.
Hajune indicated a loop of vine hanging by the door. "Pull."
So I pulled. A vibration shivered the ground under my bare feet and a bittersweet fragrance drifted in the air. After several seconds, both faded.
We waited. Shadows of evening filled this tunnel. The brooding light turned the air red and walls black.
"Do you think he is gone?" I asked. I couldn't be sure I had seen someone in the window.
Hajune snorted and said, "City Shay," as if that explained everything.
The door slowly split down the middle. A man stood there, his face closed and wary. He wore gray-green trousers, a dark shirt, and dark ankle boots. His iridescent blue belt gleamed with inlaid shells from beetle-tanks. He narrowed his gaze at Hajune. "Why come here, you?"
Hajune jerked his head toward me. "She ask."
The man looked me over, taking in my apparel, or lack thereof. "What want you?"
Good question. I wished I knew the answer. "Are you Jaichabi Na?" I almost winced at the way my pronunciation of his name revealed my Iotic accent.
"Asks who?" he responded.
"Dyhianna Selei."
The color drained from his face. His surging emotions were too complex to separate, but his agitation came through like a jolt of electricity. Whatever my name meant to him, it went deep.
He turned sideways, revealing a green, rounded hall, and raised his hand in an invitation to enter. I didn't want to go alone. When I glanced at Hajune, he tilted his head to me. Then he drew the axe from his back. Pulling a weapon was hardly a gracious response to hospitality, if that was what J'chabi Na offered, but even so I was glad for Hajune's axe.
I detected no recognition from Hajune, neither in his body language nor his mind. He didn't know my name. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or unsettled that he had no idea he accompanied the Ruby Pharaoh. It all depended on what that title meant to him.
J'chabi Na made no protest about the axe. He didn't seem surprised that I came with an armed guard. As we entered the hall, he stepped back, his posture indicating reserve and caution. He resembled Hajune, having the same large build, broad shoulders, brown hair and eyes, and strong face. He kept close control over his facial responses though. I couldn't pick up his mood as well as with Hajune, but I could tell he didn't know whether to offer welcome or denounce me as a fraud.
The hall ended in a circular room about twenty steps across. It extended many stories above us, with balconies circling each level, giving a tiered effect to J'chabi Na's living space. Moss carpeted the floor, the same type that had grown in the cavity where Hajune had confined me. Although Hajune still made me uneasy, I understood now what had motivated him. My fear for Eldrin tormented my thoughts, unrelenting.
J'chabi courteously indicated a mossy ridge. "Sit, please, if you will."
With a formal nod, I settled on the ridge. Hajune stayed on his feet, at my side, his axe gripped in his large hands.
"Care you for nourishment?" J'chabi asked, his voice guarded.
I thought of my reaction to my last meal here. "My thanks, but no." Hajune didn't answer.
I wasn't sure what to think of this strained tableau. Rather than risk revealing my vulnerable situation, I waited for J'chabi Na to make the first move. He stood awkwardly, a few feet away, watching me. I grew uncomfortable sitting while they stood, so I rose again, aware of Hajune at my side. I wanted to ask J'chabi what he knew about me, but I didn't want him to see my disorientation. Outside, night had fallen, though it had been noon when Hajune and I entered this unnamed city. Discreet light panels set around the room softened the red light that poured in the windows, giving it a gold cast.
"Sorry I am," J'chabi finally began, his discomfort obvious. "Very sorry. But I must ask you to take a DNA test."
That came as no surprise. Mine was no small assertion. Impersonating the Ruby Pharaoh carried penalties, anything from imprisonment to execution, depending on the circumstances. But what would he do with proof of my identity? My genetic records were closely guarded. If a Shay native in the hinterlands had them, then either I or Imperial Space Command had provided the records, or else he had stolen them. I doubted ISC would have released such secured information.
"How know you my DNA?" I asked.
In a careful voice, he said, "Before I answer, I must do the test."
I rubbed my throbbing temples, pressing with my fingertips. Even aided by translation nodes, I struggled with the convoluted Shay grammar. The language had so many declensions, it took an entire mod to keep track of them.
Hajune glanced from me to J'chabi Na. "Why test?"
J'chabi didn't answer, he simply waited.
"How far is the starport from here?" I knew I hadn't said it right, but fatigue weighted my responses. It had been too long since I had eaten food that stayed down. The rapid change of day and night confused the diurnal clocks of my body, leaving me tired all the time.
"Say again?" J'chabi asked me.
"The starport. From here, how far is it?"
"The starport is closed."
My disquiet grew. I glanced at Hajune and he tilted his head to the right, a Shay gesture that indicated lack of knowledge. Turning back to J'chabi, I said, "Closed why?"
"The Traders, ****"
"The Traders destroyed the port?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He spoke again, but I shook my head. Then, realizing he might not recognize the gesture, I tilted my head as Hajune had done.
J'chabi Na suddenly switched into Iotic, my native language. "One of our ISC squadrons engaged a pack of Trader ships that came into this star system. The ISC squad stopped the Trader attack on Opalite, but in the battle, the Traders destroyed our starport."
I stared at him. His fluency stunned me. Although he had a strong accent, his Iotic was otherwise perfect. Yet it took years to master, even with neural augmentation. Almost no one learned Iotic as a first language, only the Ruby Dynasty and the noble Houses. We were anachronisms in modern Skolia. People didn't usually know my language so well unless they were scholars of the classics or expected to interact with my family. His Iotic offered another reason to believe he was my contact, but it didn't tell me whether or not he had a connection to my difficulties. He guarded his mind well, obviously trained to build barriers against telepaths.
I spoke cautiously. "Did any of the Trader ships land?"
J'chabi shook his head, a gesture from my culture, not his. "One of their vessels crashed here, but we found no survivors."
I spoke quietly. "Some may have survived. At least four Razers are hiding in the forest."
He looked uncomfortable. "The ISC ships had to leave. They were needed elsewhere."
Hajune was watching us intently. He spoke in Shay. "Talk you what language?"
"Iotic," J'chabi said.
Hajune blinked. "I know it not."
I answered in Shay. "It is my tongue." I suspected Hajune had little or no formal education. Although few schools taught Iotic, it was almost impossible to study the history, cultures, or sociology of Skolia without learning about the language.
"What say you to J'chabi Na?" Hajune asked.
"I need a ship to go offworld."
J'chabi answered. "No ships."
I glanced at him. "Then I must send a message."
"No communications."
My unease deepened. "Why not?"
"Psiberspace gone."
So my impression of a collapse had been right. Gods, it must have been an interstellar catastrophe. "How did it happen? Why?"
He tilted his head to the right. "Nothing yet do we know."
This sounded worse and worse. With neither a port nor communications, I had no way to call in help. But I might have another option. To escape the roots Hajune had used to confine me, I had operated in Kyle space without technological support. By myself, I had too little control to contact anyone offworld, but with the support of a console I might achieve more.
"The comm equipment may still help," I told J'chabi. "Will you take me to it?"
He responded in a guarded tone. "Test, I must."
That blasted test again. If I wanted his help, I had to prove my claim. I didn't like it, but he had good reason for his refusal. If I was an imposter and he took my word, he could create a lot of trouble for himself and ISC.
I spoke stiffly. "Very well. Do the test."
