Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (6 page)

‘Mim.’ Maressa startled
them all stopping dead in front of Olam. She looked at Tika. ‘The
gijan’s hands Tika – the same as Mim’s.’

Tika nodded, annoyed
that she had not made the connection herself but she said nothing.
She would consider that implication later: for now she needed a
clear mind. They reached the towering female statue and stared. Was
it their collective imaginations or were her wings a little more
extended? Tika bit her lip and made herself bend to the plinth,
pressing her hand against the stone as Kertiss had done. She
straightened, the floor already hissing open.

They walked more slowly
down the ramp, expecting darkness, but the same amber light
surrounded them all the way down. The floor levelled out, a blank
wall to their right and ahead, but the light beckoned them on to a
left turning. Before they reached it, song rippled to meet them, so
it was with no surprise that they confronted Singer once they
rounded the corner.

‘It is so wonderful to
meet new friends,’ Singer called, his music ceasing but his words
still melodious.

There were several wide
openings off the curved chamber they found themselves in with Star
Singer but as yet no sign of Kertiss and Orla. Ren strode directly
to the Ship, laying his hand against its side.

‘Do you feel pain
Singer?’ Ren asked as soon as he felt the Ship’s mind enfold
his.

‘Not physical pain
anymore my friend. But I have discovered there is another sort of
pain which may be even worse.’

Ren flinched back,
breaking the direct contact, and just stared at the Ship, his eyes
magnified with tears. He stumbled back to where his companions
stood even as Singer called aloud to them again.

‘Will some of you stay
and talk with me? It would be so wonderful to talk with others
rather than sing to myself all the time.’

Olam and crimson Brin
moved instantly towards the Ship and were quickly followed by young
Storm, Riff and Pallin. Brin reclined against the wall nearest to
Singer’s curved end, Storm resting beside him. The three men sat on
the floor and Olam spoke first.

‘Tell us what the
fields of stars are like.’

‘And will you tell me
then of your lands, and your lives?’ Singer asked
hopefully.

‘Agreed!’

They heard footsteps
approaching from one of the passages and turning towards it, Tika
saw pain and rage in Ren’s face. She caught his hand and squeezed
tight. Kertiss appeared then frowning at the two groups in the
chamber.

‘Our common armsmen
would prefer to tell tales than accompany us,’ Gan announced
pleasantly before Kertiss could comment.

Seela chose that moment
to loom above Gan, her face then lowering close to Kertiss’s. ‘The
rest of us look forward to seeing your nesting caves,’ she
said.

For the first time
Kertiss looked unsure, then he shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

He turned to lead them
down the passage from which he’d emerged. He hesitated as if to
speak to Singer but Maressa spoke quickly.

‘Are there many rooms
down here Kertiss?’

Navan hid a smile: the
Vagrantian air mage sounded as though she was merely visiting a
newly moved acquaintance. Kertiss stared at her blankly for a
moment.

‘There are enough rooms
for our requirements. If more are needed, the local people would
see to it of course.’

‘Do you go among the
Qwah often?’ Maressa continued her apparently inane questioning
while they walked behind Kertiss.

Farn’s chin bumped on
Tika’s head and she slowed to slide her arm across his neck. She
noticed Sket’s hand rested on his sword hilt and his eyes were
never still. They trailed at Kertiss’s heels for some time, peering
into small square rooms: stone floored, stone walled and stone
roofed, all lit by the same steady amber glow. Two rooms were
obviously bed chambers; another they presumed to be a sitting area,
but the impression was of bleakness, coldness, and they quickly
found the constant light becoming tedious.

‘There do not seem to
be the things within your caves which most two legs consider
necessary,’ Farn suddenly remarked.

Kertiss halted and
turned to the silver blue Dragon. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Coverings and cushions
and books and – other people.’ Farn’s eyes whirred innocently.
‘Lady Emla and Lady Lallia filled their caves with such
things.’

Kertiss sniffed. ‘Those
things are not essential to existence.’

‘Lady Emla and Lady
Lallia would not agree.’

‘Our work is all that
is essential to us,’ said Kertiss firmly. ‘And this is where some
of that work is done.’

A closed door blocked
the passage ahead of them. Kertiss touched a small panel set in the
door. ‘This door opens only to my hand print or my sister’s. It
will open to no other.’

He stood to one side as
Tika passed through, waiting until all of Seela’s tail was safely
clear before closing the door again. Immediately the friends felt
enclosed, trapped, but Kertiss simply walked ahead again and turned
left. Ren broke the sudden silence.

Chapter
Four

They found they were in
the largest room other than Singer’s chamber that they had so far
seen. There were many sloping desks lining three of the walls and
an opaque sort of pipe rose from another larger desk in the centre
of the room. Kertiss waited until most of Seela’s bulk was inside
the room.

‘From this room we can
monitor what happens on Kel-Harat,’ he explained. ‘Among other
things.’

‘Kel-Harat?’ Gan
frowned. ‘What is Kel-Harat?’

Kertiss laughed. ‘This
world is Kel-Harat. It was so named millennia ago by astronomers in
the Zeenol Galaxy.’ He laughed again and went to the central desk.
He pressed various coloured buttons scattered across the desk top
and a low hum vibrated the air. The opacity in the pipe swirled for
a moment before clearing. Hanging in the pipe they saw a round ball
with brown, white, green and blue markings over it. The ball hung
against a black background.

‘A map?’ Maressa and
Gan spoke together.

‘No. An image of this
world seen from far beyond your skies.’

Ren walked right round
the pipe, studying the image within it.

‘How do you make such
an image appear in here?’

‘There are Ships still
orbiting Kel-Harat, some sadly are dead, but some still function to
an extent. They relay the picture of this world back to me here.
Look, I can magnify the image for closer examination.’

Kertiss tapped at the
buttons again and Tika felt her stomach lurch as she had the
sensation of rushing closer to the ball in the pipe. Kertiss
glanced up and tapped another button. The ball was enlarged enough
now that it completely filled the pipe. He raised his hand to point
at what the companions finally recognised were mountains clustered
towards the right upper part of the ball.

‘That is your City of
Gaharn.’ Kertiss smiled, his finger jabbing again at the
desk.

Once more they seemed
to rush closer until they really could see mountains, then trees,
farms, then – stars above! – the Lady Emla’s House! Closer still
and figures moved. Gan’s face was white: he recognised the
formation of a squad of Guards escorting the Lady herself. Another
click on the desk and the image vanished, the humming ceased and
the pipe slowly clouded again. Ren broke the silence.

‘Can you see what is
happening in my land of Drogoya?’ he asked Kertiss.

‘Unfortunately no. For
over a millennia there have been odd conditions in the atmosphere
over nearly all of that land mass. Wave transmissions have thus
been severely impeded.’

They didn’t understand
half of Kertiss’s words but they caught the gist of his
meaning.

‘You spoke of dead or
damaged Ships,’ Tika queried. ‘Where are they then – floating high
in our skies?’

‘Much higher than that,
in a holding orbit. Orbiting means going endlessly round this
world,’ Kertiss explained with noticeable impatience.

‘So this is your work:
spying on the people of our lands.’ Sket was scarcely
polite.

Kertiss raised an
eyebrow. ‘I showed you that image as a simple example. We rarely
bother to watch your activities.’

‘Then why are you
here?’ Navan asked.

Kertiss turned away,
wandering along a wall of desks. ‘There were reasons that a group
of Ships had to leave our home world. Kel-Harat is on a spiral arm
of the Repsian Galaxy – not an overcrowded region but neither is
this world too solitary. It would take our enemies a very great
deal of time and energy to stretch their search so far.’

Kertiss turned back to
face Navan. ‘Kel-Harat had been briefly surveyed and registered as
a restricted world requiring no contact at the time of the survey.
It was classified as low pop, low tech and, conveniently for us
millennia later, the survey report was lost in bureaucratic files
until we found it by chance.’

‘Low pop, low tech?’
asked Maressa.

‘Low human population,
low technological achievement. Technology is all this.’ Kertiss
gestured round the room. ‘Machinery that does the fundamental tasks
leaving us free to concentrate on innovative experiment in many
fields. Your technological development has only reached the lowest
steps towards our level. You can work metal for example – that is
the beginnings of technology.’

Seela eased her bulk
back onto her haunches.

‘These – things – you
can make are all very well, but your minds have little of the
strength that ours do – for example.’

Tika glanced at the
purple Dragon but Kertiss seemed oblivious of the sarcasm. He shook
his head.

‘You may be able to do
a few tricks with your minds but nothing of that sort compares with
our technology.’

They followed Kertiss
from the room and along the passage into the next. More desks lined
two walls but two large stone boxes took up most of the space.
Black ropes hung suspended from the ceiling, connecting some of the
desks with the boxes. Ren and Tika both put careful fingers to
touch the shiny grey boxes and met each other’s eyes. The box felt
too slick, too warm, to be stone. Ren pressed his fingers harder
but whatever material it was, it was unyielding. Kertiss leaned
against the end of one of the oblong boxes and folded his
arms.

‘These are generation
tanks,’ he told them. ‘No. Not generation as you’re thinking – not
fathers and grandfathers and so on. Generation as in production,
growth.’ He sighed. ‘If you have good rich land, you will be able
to generate, or grow, good crops will you not?’

His frown lessened at
their nods of understanding.

‘So these tanks can
generate life. Or at least, repairs. For example,’

Seela huffed rather
noisily but Kertiss didn’t notice.

‘For example, if you
were to be injured, have an accident – lost your hand let’s say. We
can immerse you in the gen tank and you will grow a new
one.’

None of the companions
could hide their astonishment. Tika and Sket’s thoughts flew to Jal
in the Stronghold.

‘Could you grow someone
a new arm?’ Tika asked in disbelief.

‘Of course we can. The
time needed for someone to spend in the tank depends on how complex
their injury. My sister and I spend a day in a gen tank
occasionally to ensure that our bodies continue to function at full
efficiency.’

‘The Qwah are fortunate
people indeed to have such marvellous healing available,’ said
Maressa.

Kertiss looked shocked.
‘We do not use it other than for ourselves, or in experimental
circumstances with particular specimens.’

‘What sort of specimens
do you use?’ Ren’s mouth smiled but his eyes were like
stones.

Kertiss started to
reply then stopped, studying Ren more carefully.

‘Nothing of great
importance. Come, I think we’ll find Orla in the next
room.’

Farn nudged his face
close to Tika’s. ‘I like not this place my Tika. Can we go back and
talk to Singer?’

She rubbed her cheek
against his. ‘Soon.’

They followed Seela and
the others to yet another room. This was slightly more familiar in
its degree of untidiness. A long workbench with cupboards beneath
stood against one wall. Shelves covering another wall were piled
with papers, bottles of different coloured liquids and various
sized wooden boxes. The third wall was hidden by rows of stacked
cages. Seela backed out of the room, her eyes blazing,
unceremoniously pushing Farn out before he could actually get
in.

‘We will wait for you,’
she told Tika.

Maressa had moved to
stare into the cages. They contained various small birds and
animals, none of which were quite familiar to her. They were all
alive she thought but utterly still and silent, huddled in the
furthest corners of their cages.

Orla was seated at the
further end of the workbench along the wall opposite the
cages.