The Farpool (35 page)

“I have a feeling we’re not in Omsh’pont
anymore, eh Kloosee? Help me out.”

Kloosee took him by the arms and brushed the
last fibers off. He pulsed the old teacher and satisfied himself
that Longsee was unhurt. He looked up, found the nearest soldier
and went to him.

“We’ve come from Omt’or…here to work
with your
tchin’ting
weavers.
Here to build a great shield. Your own Metah knows of
this—“

The prodsman said nothing but gestured with
his weapon toward one of the canopies. Longsee pulsed the soldier
and found him remarkably quiet and well-disciplined inside.
Unusually calm considering he had just handled one of the sea’s
deadliest creatures. He decided it would be prudent to respect the
Ponkti.

They were herded together, the entire
convoy, and conveyed toward the canopy where the
tuk
match was still in progress.
Ponkti swarmed around them as they approached but the prodsmen held
them back. Chase noticed that most of the people seemed very
correct in their actions and in complete control of
themselves—Kloosee had pulsed around and let that be
known—
very unlike the
Omtorish
, he added. Perhaps it was the influence of
arts like
tuk
, but whatever
the explanation, he was impressed with this feat of self-mastery.
It was like pulsing an army of identical reflections.

In the center of the main canopy, the
crowds were thickest, huddling around a large, blubbery female of
medium-gray skin. Not surprisingly, the Metah Lektereenah kim, was
the center of slavish affection—an unending stream of Ponkti
filtered down from outside the cavern and paid their respects by
nudging, kissing and stroking her. She was dining on stuffed
pal’penk, from the aroma of it, while studying the
tuk
match before her. A young
servling brushed her tail flukes.

Chase and Angie watched as the prodsman
worked his way through the line of admirers and, reaching the Metah
at last, told her of their captive visitors. She showed no reaction
at all, but merely shooed the horde away. At her command, the
prodsman beckoned Kloosee, Chase, Angie and Longsee to
approach.

Right away, Kloosee noticed a radical
difference. He could easily pulse that Lektereenah was a fickle,
nervous woman—her innards seethed without pause. He had thought the
Ponkti would admire
shoo’kel
more in their Metah, but either she was so popular that she
could do as she pleased or the Ponkti held their leaders to
different standards. In any case, she paid them little attention
when they arrived; indeed, the presence of non-kelke worried her
attendants more than her. They quickly erected a partition of sheer
tissue around the Metah, then scattered to the corners of the
pavilion and scowled at the visitors.

Longsee was the first to speak. “I am a
scientist, Affectionate Metah. An Omtorish scientist. You’ve
received a message, a proposal from the Metah of Omt’or,
Ilteeredah, to purchase
tchin’ting
fiber and cooperate on building a great shield.”

She seemed not to have heard and
continued munching on a rib of palpenk. In front of them, one of
the
tuk
players scored a
dramatic blow against his opponent, stunning him with a sharp
tail-slap. The move brought forward a chorus of honks and cheers
from the people around them.

At last, Lektereenah deigned to notice
them.

“I
have
received Iltereedah’s proposal. But you are no doubt tired
from a long journey. You will eat.” It was not a request and
Longsee stood aside to let the Metah’s words be carried out. Almost
instantly, the canopy was full of servants, grabbing them by the
arms and tugging them toward a basin in front of the Metah, where
pal’penk portions were piled high. But instead of leaving them to
eat, the servants proceeded to clean and groom everyone in the
convoy with their beaks and with fine brushes. Kloosee tried to
smother a smile at Chase’s reaction: already, he had stretched out
and was directing the brushes to the sorest places.

“I could get used to this,” he told them.

Angie just sniffed. “Yeah, well don’t expect
me to do the same thing when we get back to Scotland Beach, Your
Highness.”

“It is a long ride from Omsh’pont,”
Lektereenah said. “We have not had visitors from Omt’or for twenty
six
mah
. The attendants will
help you to relax, unwind. Kip’t traveling is so tiring, is it not?
Such tiny craft. I’m not at all sure that we need them. There are
better ways to travel.”

Longsee tried to protest. “Affectionate
Metah…we have so much to discuss…the shield…the project—“

But Lektereenah would hear none of it and
turned away. The servants closed in and Longsee was soon enveloped
in their capable hands.

Chase was pleasantly surprised to find that
the brushes were coated with a narcotic relaxant. The odor was
unfamiliar but the effect was most welcome. Even the beaks of the
servlings seemed special. Each of them knew just where his muscles
were knotted and just how much pressure to apply. He shivered with
comfort, only dimly aware of Angie and the others.

Lektereenah went on, talking and chewing
pal’penk at the same time. “Before the kip’ts, people used to roam
from kel to kel, freely, with no machines to help them. Imagine
that. Oh, of course, they sometimes rode tillets—you know, we still
ride them around here—but even so, it’s not the same. I suppose the
Orketish don’t breed them anymore.” She studied her visitors out of
the corner of her eye. Each was dazed and semi-conscious, mumbling
inaudible things. The servling attending Chase drove her hands deep
into his flesh, pinching him as she did so, uttering soothing
nonsyllables, feeding him pal’penk. When she looked up at the
Metah, Lektereenah nodded silently and she resumed her
attentions.

“They are such gentle animals,”
Lektereenah went on. By now, her voice had settled into the same
monotonous drone as her servants. All around them,
kelke
watched the entrancing with
hushed fascination. Slowly, but surely, Kloosee, Longsee, Chase and
Angie were losing control of themselves. Only Tulcheah was
unaffected. She stared grimly at the entrancing, not daring to
approach the Metah. Lektereenah ignored her.

“Reliable too. When I was only a
midling—that was not so long ago—I was on a roam to T’kel’rok and
got sick. Bad waters, you know; terribly
onkelte
in there. And my tillet brought me back
to Ponk’t by itself, saved my life in fact. The most amazing thing.
Do you know I took that tillet for a pet later; the breeder was
going to slaughter it for food but I persuaded him to let me keep
this one. They’re cannibals in captivity, but you must know that
already.” She paused, staring at Longsee, her eyes hard.

“Tell me: why do you wish to purchase
tchin’ting fiber? Why should we cooperate with you on this
shield…the Umans aren’t enemies of Ponk’et.”

Longsee muttered something.

“Speak louder. What’s your interest in Ponkti
fiber?”

“We’re under attack…Aff—Metah. There …is a…a,
ah, there is a great sound. Wrecking Omsh’pont, all of Omt’or, all
of the world, really. We need fiber for a shield—“

“A sound? What kind of sound? Explain.”

Kloosee answered this time. “The surface. A
great sound near the surface. Aliens…Umans…the Notwater…there’s a
wavemaker that is…ah, it is—“

Lektereenah frowned. In front of her,
another tail-slap brought murmurs of appreciation from the crowd.
The
tuk
match filled the
waters with distant grunts and groans, while Lektereenah puzzled
over the answers.

“Is this the truth?”

A servling spoke up. “I believe it is,
Affectionate Metah. There was something on
ootkeeor
about disturbances near Kinlok…and
Kok’t and other cities were being damaged. The repeaters mentioned
a sound…much vibration and sound.”

“That seems unlikely. Repeaters spread
falsehood as well as truth.” To Kloosee, she spoke sharply. “The
sound—this project Iltereedah mentioned—is this why you have come?
There are no other reasons?”

Kloosee seemed to be coming out of his daze.
When the servling reached to put him back under, he fought her off
and shuddered. He blinked at the crowd staring at him.

A prodsman came to restrain him but
Lektereenah waved him off. Her voice had now lost its droning
quality and she directed the servlings to leave.

“Now you are more rested. Refreshed. Here.”
She reached through the gossamer veil and handed Kloosee a short
section of bone. “Eat this.”

He sucked at it for a few moments and felt
better for it. His head cleared enough to focus and he passed the
bone on to Longsee.

“What happened to me?”

Lektereenah smiled coldly. “You were all
exhausted. My servants are skilled at refreshing weary
travelers.”

“I feel much better. Thank you.”

“It was stated that you wish to
purchase
tchin’ting
fibers
here. Iltereedah’s message talks of a great purchase and designs
for this shield you speak of.”

Kloosee nodded. Longsee then chimed in,
explaining in detail to her about the Sound and how Kloosee had
first encountered the Tailless People at the surface. “Omt’or is
under attack…we all are, most Affectionate Metah. We have designed
a shield to stop the sound from doing any more damage but we need
great quantities of fiber to build it, to give us time to prepare
an assault on the wavemaker…to rid the world of the Umans.”

Lektereenah had now resumed her pose of
indifference. The
tuk
match
was reaching a climax and both players were landing blows
now.

“Why should I care what happens to
Omt’or…or Ork’et?” she replied. If it’s to the fortunes of
Vish
that a kel owes its suffering,
then so be it. Shooki is not to be questioned. It would be wrong
for us to interfere.”

“Most Affectionate Metah,” Longsee said,
“we’re desperate. Maybe it is Shooki who punishes us. The point
could be argued but maybe it’s so. It could also be Shooki’s wish
that Omt’or be punished to test the Ponkti.”

Lektereenah bubbled apprehensively at that.
She didn’t bother to conceal it. “How do you mean?”

“Maybe Shooki wishes to test Ponkti
feelings about
Ke’shoo
.
You’ve got a reputation for being aloof and isolated, having no
interest in the other kels. Now, with the Tailless and their
weapons, all the kels are threatened.”

“We’re ready for
akloosh
. That’s Shooki’s plan for the
world.”

“Then we hear his Voice differently,
Affectionate Metah.” Longsee knew he was risking the whole purpose
of their trip in antagonizing Lektereenah this way, but he had no
choice. She was excitable as well as coarse; who could really say
how a Ponkti would react?

“I think not. We’re not as isolated as
you think. We listen to
ootkeeor
and all the repeaters. We hear what’s going on. We know what
you think of us.” When one of the
tuk
players scored a jarring blow to the head of
his opponent, she honked in appreciation, encouraging her court
into similar applause. “It’s the same with all of you. So
many
mah
, epochs even, of
Omtorish superiority, in everything—you can’t even conceive of
anyone else having influence. You’ve been so arrogant, so
contemptuous, so certain of yourselves for so long, that you think
the rest of us are like pets to be trained, if only we’ll listen
and obey. But that’s going to change—it’s already changing—and the
time will come when Omt’or will be left behind…in the most literal
sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that when
akloosh
comes, your opinions and comforts will
be useless. Ponkti ways will dominate the seas. People will flock
here in desperation, because only here will survival be possible.
Why do you think the Pillars of Shooki are in Ponkti waters? Maybe
this attack you speak of is the beginning of
akloosh
. It would be pointless for Ponk’et to
waste assistance on a doomed kel. And all kels are doomed, Longsee.
This you know, even if you won’t speak it.”

Longsee could pulse that he was losing the
argument. He looked helplessly at Kloosee and Tulcheah. Then
Kloosee had an idea.

“Most Affectionate Metah,” Kloosee began,
“there are some important articles in a holdpod we brought with us.
It’s in the kip’t outside. If one of your prodsmen could retrieve
the pod, I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”

Lektereenah seemed annoyed by the
request but she ordered the pod to be found and brought to the
pavilion. They watched the end of one
tuk
match and the start of another before the
prodsman returned, bearing the pod. Kloosee took it, released the
catch and extracted the echopod inside, the pod containing
Iltereedah’s instructions, careful not to expose the
potu
pearls to view. He shut the pod
quickly.

“Most Affectionate Metah, this echopod holds
our instructions for this occasion. The voice is that of
Iltereedah, Metah of Omt’or. If you will consent to listen, I think
you’ll understand our problems.”