The Book of Ominiue: Starborn (39 page)

‘You’re throwing yourself around well Colonel,’ the general commended. ‘But it does make it easier when you’re not restricted by a third party,’ he pointed to the droids.

‘To be honest, I don’t know how we’d do this without him,’ Hanniver agreed as they started to climb the steps, their appointed guards upon their heels. Níurthan still stood in the top aisle, waiting for them, his dark cloak making him difficult to spot in the low light.

‘Undoubtedly you’d get there in the end. Most are arguing for arguments sake.’

‘I hate that in human nature,’ the general growled. ‘If there’s one thing I respect about those smegging space rats, they don’t stuff around; they only speak with point at hand.’

‘Afrada ala Hama,’ the monk addressed. Shayne stopped before him, bowing his head slightly in recognition. ‘I request a word.’ Shayne turned to the two humans who nodded in understanding and wandered off talking sleepily to each other. Shayne’s guard remained but the monk gestured for him to leave and he obeyed; falling into step behind the humans.

‘The old Hama Ta’Orian seems to be well-natured for a general.’

‘He is on his best behaviour today,’ Shayne commented. ‘His temperament is as fickle as the wind,’ Níurthan’s expression did not change an inch but he got the impression he was amused.

‘What would happen if your kind broke the boundaries of their promise?’

‘If it does happen,’ Shayne spoke honestly. ‘It would be a slow process, so slow that most would not notice.’

‘And the chances of that occurring?’ his lip twitched.

Shayne sighed as he thought about that, ‘I would not say it is a high probability but I cannot really tell. Most countries in the past slowly accepted the changes. The first generation usually has trouble, and most eventually do everything in their power to repress the technology given to them. It is natural, but with the next generation comes the willingness and desire for change. When that happens the boarders usually open up, but even following that a strange occurrence often happens with following generations born longing for their ancestors’ ways, after a time rejecting rises again. Usually you have a balance of those wanting and those not wanting. It’s all very complicated.’

‘And if pure rejection occurs?’

‘It is extremely rare but it has occurred in the past and as such has caused serious trouble, but today the Unions are likely to accept that choice. In the end there is always a nation that will welcome us, always other lands. From what I can see the biggest issue on this planet is the Fa’Orian.’

‘They will always keep their promise if you keep yours,’ Níurthan assured.

‘I meant there would be uncertainty concerning colonisation behaviour from our side. I am unsure how it would unfold. There will be large interest and will remain so for as long as we know they are a unique species. Our city will be a tourist city. People will come to see the Fa’Orian and there will be demand upon expanding. Whether it will occur or not, I cannot tell you.’ The monk nodded in understanding and as a thank you. Slowly they walked from the building.

‘The curiosity directed to your technology and knowledge; how long will that last before any predictions of rejection?’

‘If there is acceptance of technology, then when that technology becomes freely available to the people is when resentment typically begins to rise.’

‘Then why offer it if you know it will likely cause trouble?’ the monk was curious.

‘Because, if we hold everything back it will cause greater unrest, it is a strange occurrence but it is fact, either approach people will eventually become unhappy. We offer what we can and provide it at the slowest rate possible until signs of negative impact occur. When that happens we adjust what the natives want. It is a balancing act and we’ve had plenty of practice.’

‘Do you think it would be better if your people never came here?’ the monk’s head tilted a bit as he scrutinised the Earthman. They started to cross the throne room; there were a few people casually wandering around with the guards keeping vigil.

‘I believe so, but orders do not come from me. I have no say in the colonisation process and I doubt any man really does. There are those back on the home worlds who protest any colonisation of a world already inhabited by intelligent life, but the system we live in is like an animal of its own will, to thwart it is to destroy our empire, and who would willingly and knowingly do that?’

‘It would take a brave man,’ Níurthan admitted. ‘But I see unnecessary customs upon our half for the sake of yours.’

‘It is the nature of life to strive to survive,’ Shayne acknowledged. ‘The
evolutionary
track of our society was flawed from the beginning. Taken from the primal days and pushed into the modern to the point where it must keep going for us to continue. I do not see how it could possibly continue without eventually failing.’

‘And what would become of all the worlds you have influenced since?’ the monk pondered. Shayne remained silent; he saw the dilemma all too clearly.

The dining room was full of polite talk and pleasantries. Many approached the Earthmen and conveyed their support for their request for a new city, regardless of whether they believed it or not. Some remained clear; looking upon their strangeness and technology as ill omens and some stayed away just simply because they always stayed away from that which was not like them. The mind games had already begun with some Southerners; most notably those involved in the disputed lands, trying to gain favour.

Faygin’kalídur the blacksmith formally introduced himself. He was tall enough to be an Earthmen and he often laughed in a booming voice. Of all the Chancellor he was the most open and the most interested in their technology. He exchanged a few friendly words with an equally friendly smile before stepping aside; there were many people who wished an audience with the Earthmen and the Master Armoursmith was always considerate of others. When he had gone the Bohanese Varda approached him. She wore the red and orange colours of Bohaníde. Though she looked splendid, her gown was modest compared to some of the human royals. Standing on either side of her was Pan’arden and the Bohanese general, Tay’mearan, both with their tiger companions. 

‘Afra’hama,’ the old queen bowed. ‘It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.’ She smiled warmly at him but she also searched his face; glad to be able to finally gaze upon him.

Shayne bowed in return, ‘I am sorry we were not able to pay our respects to you within your own nation. You showed great kindness to us and we are forever grateful.’ 

‘One is always happy to provide for those who need it. I hear you rode well upon my gift. I am glad to hear it,’ she added with half a smile, ‘and that the stallion was of use to you.’

‘It was a gracious gift, thank you,’ Shayne motioned for her to sit with him; she accepted the gesture and took a cup from the table, filling it with a dark wine. ‘I would be happy to return Ulossa to you, as we have no need of him anymore.’

The Varda looked across at Shayne with mild surprise, ‘It was a gift, Afra’hama; one does not return a gift.’

‘I am not sure how I can care for him though,’ Shayne spoke earnestly. ‘Not by myself, I have much work to do, and I am afraid she may be neglected. I would love to keep the horse but it would not be happy to live with me.’ The queen’s expression became thoughtful before she smiled at him.

‘In that case Ulossa can stable in my castle and you; Afra’hama, can visit me and we shall ride in my country.’

‘I would like that,’ Shayne replied, though he held no real interest in the thought. They exchanged some words before General Hendingson politely asked the Bohanese guests for Shayne’s pardon and took him to their seating where they discussed some things before the recess was over.

The ending of the break brought the crowd back into the Grand Council Hall. The mood was more relaxed, the Earthmen presence was almost considered normal amongst the members and the food in their stomachs quelled any earlier frustrations. Instantly they moved to the decision making of the three locations.

‘I do not like the idea of them settling in the plains,’ the prince of the southern coastal nation of Garathy called out. His nation has had a very long and lasting peace with all around them. They held the sacred location of Banadama where the dragons last gathered before their final departure. A great shrine stood there now and pilgrims from all over Dífrun ventured there to pay homage. They also received pilgrims from the southern continent, where they honoured Anótole and Ominiue for setting them free from a tyrannical nation that gripped the land before the dragons’ flight.

‘Access would be more difficult for us; though I see the advantage in the land I would like it to be more central, as all agree.’ There were murmurs.

The holy king of Isradia also stood against the location. ‘The fields are also sacred. They were once the open hunting ground of dragon-kind. Are we to abolish them from the realm of one extinct
Orian
and drive them to another? It would be hypocrisy.’ The savannah was considered somewhat sacred and therefore the reason why no town was erected there or claimed by a surrounding nation, but the circumstances between the two was vastly different and difficult to express.

‘I do not see the problem with one city being built in those lands,’ the Kíbaroth Varda answered carefully, ‘but to open the lands once shut, even to a new people who are now homeless would also open the rest of the land to settlement, and I think I agree with the Hankída in that this should not be compromised. If the dragons were to ever return —’

‘The dragons are dead!’ snapped a human sitting in the last row on the far right. ‘Why hope for something that —’ the words of the human were drowned in the explosive anger of the room, from all sides and all nations.

‘
Silence
!’ Far’galanmír shouted from the box, suddenly standing, with her hand angrily gripping the frame in front of her. She had to repeat herself several times before the rooms unrest dissipated and returned to an angry silence.

‘Well it looks like the north is out,’ The general joked, and Shayne deleted the mark in the plains of
Ámel
Merodan. This seemed to further deny any attempt to fight so the crowds anger abated. After much discussion between the two remaining locations they decided against Tallagar, mainly due to its difficult and remote terrain, despite it appearing the better location on the map. Advantage in the remaining location was that it was not real territory; residing on the foot at the Beldon Mountains, backing onto the Corha-Rhí desert and uninhabitable to the primitive people. Its closest neighbours were both human dominated which kept the Southern people happy but it was still within the middle kingdoms and that kept the lionmen happy. Some were not pleased but that would occur regardless of outcome, including the Nakáda lionmen who were never happy with change of any kind. 

The final settlement on the Corha-Rhí location was not the end of the discussion. Afterwards they went into great depth over technology sharing and promises. The
Last Western Front
policy stated that if one nation desired a power and another said no then no person should have the advancement. They only shared with the indigenous population if all nations agreed to the use and none objected. The countries that fought all the way did pose a problem at first, denying everything but they struck an agreement to allow the other nations whatever they desired so long as it did not impede upon them or threatened them. Often Shayne had to remind the council delegates that it was a unison agreement, his eyes darkening every time he had to repeat himself. The basic constitution of trade was made, with the points recorded and agreed upon. All that remained was for the papers to be written out and signed, but that would not occur until the following day.

That night many of the ambassadors made their way to the gathering square in front of the temple. Entertainers of various kinds were present. The Teaching Hall Musicians played upon a stage all dressed in their distinctive blue cloaks, constantly switching singers and instrumentalists. Various songs rang through the night. The rhythmic beat of drums constantly rolled as people ate and danced. The dancing moved between free-flowing to tribalistic depending on the music played. Their rhythm and movement was hypnotic, everything they did seemed beautiful beyond expectation and every dance they performed held a specific meaning and sacredness, rooted in primal worship long forgotten. As darkness descended, great torches were lit; covering the square in warm firelight and constant moving shadows which drew Shayne’s attention. 

Sometime during the festivities Kíe’arathorne made his way through the great mass of people to the honour tables. A Karmoníth shytarda barred his way; denying the lowly ranked journeyman entry, but Hanniver spotted him and came to his rescue by grabbing him by the arm and guiding him passed the guards to their seats.

‘Afra’hama,’ he bowed his head slightly to Shayne who still seemed lost in his own thoughts. He then turned to the other Earthmen. ‘Hama Ta’Orians.’

‘Come and sit with us young lionman,’ Hanniver patted a spare seat.

Kíe’arathorne sat himself and looked upon the plates of food before him, a gleam in his eye. ‘You do not mind if I help you clear the table?’ he asked causing Hanniver to laugh, even the general let slip a single chuckle. The lionman then began to help himself, stretching over the table to reach what took his fancy.