Brightness Reef (29 page)

In forgetfulness of race, clan, or philosophy.

Yet beware! Lest the road take you too far.

Keep faith in something greater than you are.

Beware resumed obsession with the self.

To those who have tasted vacuum and stardust, that way lies damnation.

The Scroll of Redemption

Alvin’s Tale

THE OTHERS ARE ASLEEP NOW. IT’S LATE, BUT I want to get all this down, ‘cause things are about to get busy and I don’t know when I’ll have another chance.

Tomorrow we head back down the mountain, loaded with all kinds of gear lent to us by Uriel the Smith-so much good stuff that we’re feeling pretty dumb right now about our former plans.

To think, we were willing to trust our lives to some of the junk we designed!

Uriel already sent messages to our parents, calligraphed on heavy cloth paper and sealed with her signet as a sage of the Commons. So there’s not much Huck’s folks or mine can do to stop us.

Kot that I looked forward to facing them, anyway. What would I say? “Hey, Pop. It’ll be just like Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea/ Remember how often you read it to me, when I was little?”

I recall now how that tale ended for Captain Nemo’s submarine crew, and I can see why Yowg-wayuo regrets what a humicker I’ve become. If my father confronts me over this, I’ll discuss it in a language other than Anglic, to show that I really have thought it out several ways. This trip is more than a passing kid-obsession but something meaningful for our village and our race. Me and the others are going to make history. It’s important for a hoon to be involved, from notion to motion to recollection.

Once she decided, Uriel really got things rolling. Pincer-Tip headed out the very same evening after Ziz was vlenned, taking the newly budded traeki to his home hive for water-adapting in the tidepools south of Wuphon. Pincer will also use the smith’s authority to hire some red-shelled cousins to haul the bathy’s wooden hull to a meeting point down near the Rift. The rest of us will come overland with supply wagons.

Test dives start in just five days!

The choice of a site was vital. There’s just one place where the Midden’s deep watery trench plunges like a scythe blade toward the coast. Where it sends a deep rupture of jagged canyons passing right next to Terminus Rock. By deploying a boom from an overhanging ledge, we won’t even need to hire a ship.

It’s a relief to have a decision made at last. Even Huck admits the die is cast, accepting destiny with a shrugged rubbing of two eyestalks.

“At least we’ll be right there at the border, where I want to be anyway. When we finish, Uriel will owe us. She’ll have to write us a warrant to go over the line and visit some Buyur ruins.”

There’s an Anglic word-tenacity-that comes out as stubbornness when I translate into GalSix. Which is one more reason why human speech best describes my pal Huck.

All of us, even Ur-ronn, are more than a little surprised by how Uriel is throwing resources at our “little adventure” all of a sudden. We talked about the smith’s outbreak of helpfulness during our last evening on Mount Guenn, after a long day spent packing crates and going over inventory lists, waiting for the factory complex to settle down for the night.

“It nust have to do with the starshifs,” Ur-ronn said, lifting her muzzle from the straw of her sleeping pallet.

Huck turned two stalks toward Ur-ronn-leaving just one buried in her well-thumbed copy of Lord Valen-. tine’s Castle. She groaned. “Not that again! What in the world could our dumbass little diving trip have to do

with Galactic cruisers coming to Jijo? Don’t you think Uriel would have more important things on her mind?”

“Vut Gyfz said, a week ago-“

“Why not just admit you overheard Gybz wrong? We asked er again today, and that traeki doesn’t recall seeing any spaceships.”

“Not that traeki,” I corrected. “We never had a chance to ask Gybz anything, before the vlenning. It’s Tyugwho said er doesn’t remember.”

“Tyug, Gybz. The difference can’t be that great. Not even a vlenned traeki would forget something like that!”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Traeki memory wax can be tricky stuff, I hear.

Then again, I’m hardly ever as sure of anything as Huck is of everything.

Of course, there was one other person we could ask, but in the course of stowing gear and going over plans, I guess the fiery old smith dazzled us out of bringing the subject up. Intimidated may be a better word, though I’m not sure, since I’m writing this by candlelight without my handy dictionary. All during the last few days, Uriel galloped from her normal duties, to talks with her human guest, to tending her precious hall of disks, to flooding us with more details we never thought of during a’1 our long months planning an undersea adventure-a voyage none of us ever really expected to come true. In all the rushing about, there never seemed time to raise other questions. Or else Uriel made it plain that some things weren’t any of our business.

At one point I did try to ask about all the changes she had made in our plan.

“We always figured on starting by exploring the shallows near home. Then redesign and refit before trying deeper water from a boat. Maybe going down ten or twenty cords. Now you’re talking about doing thirty, right from the start!”

“Thirty cords is not so very nuch,” Uriel dismissed with a snort. “Oh, I agree that your old air circulators wouldn’t have veen uf to it. That’s why I reflaced the systen with a suferior one we had on hand. Also, your gaskets would have leaked. As for the hull itself, your design will do.”

I couldn’t help wondering-where did all the equipment come from? We hadn’t figured on needing a gas pressure regulator, for instance. Good thing Uriel pointed out the mistake and happened to have a beautiful handmade one in stock. But why did she already have one? Why would even the Smith of Guenn Volcano need such a thing?

Huck admitted, it wasn’t hurting our chances to have Uriel’s competence behind us. Yet I worried. An air of mystery shrouded the enterprise.

“All will ve nade clear when you get to the Rock, and everything is ready to go. I’ll check the gear out nyself, then I’ll exflain what you can do for ne.”

Barring day trips to Wuphon, Uriel hardly ever left her forge. Now she wanted to take two weeks off, adventuring with us? Never in my life has a single piece of news struck me the way that one did-at once both reassuring and terrifying. Perhaps my nick-namesake felt the same way when, exploring the deep catacombs under Bias-par, he found something unimaginable, a mystery tunnel leading all the way to faraway Lys.

So there we were, Huck, Ur-ronn, and me, all packed up and ready to set off in the morn, on an exploit that would either make us famous or kill us. Before that, though, there was one bit of business we had to take care of. We waited till night settled fully over Mount Guenn, when sunshine no longer filled the hundred clever sky-lights, leaving nothing to compete with the lava pools and glowing forges. The ore buckets and casting furnaces went silent and laborers downed tools. Soon after evening meal, seven gongs clanged, summoning urrish workers to perform their ritual grooming before settling down to sleep.

Ur-ronn didn’t like moving about at that hour-what urs does?-but she knew there was no other choice. So we set forth single file from the warehouse chamber where Urdonnol had us barracked, picking our way without lanterns. Huck led, with two eyestalks stretched

ahead as she spun quickly along a swooping stone ramp. The eyes facing backward seemed to glare at us each time she passed under a sky-duct, catching glimmers of moonlight.

“Come on, you guys! You’re so jeekee slow!”

Ur-ronn muttered, “Who had to carry her across rock-fields for three days, when we went exfloring the Yootir Caves? I still have sfoke scars in ny flanks.”

An exaggeration. I know how tough urrish hide is. Still. Huck does have a way of recalling only whatever seems convenient at the time.

She had to stop and wait, huffing impatiently, at intersections to let Ur-ronn show the way. Soon that meant exiting the warren of underground passages and following a trail of pounded pumice across a rocky plain that looked even more eerily alien, more starkly un-Jijoan, by night than it did by day. In fact, we were crossing terrain much like pictures I’ve seen of Earth’s moon.

Speaking of moons, great Loocen sat low in the west, the largest of Jijo’s satellites, a familiar reddish crescent, though right now the main part facing us was dark, so no sunlight sparkled off the cold, dead cities the Buyur left there intact, as if to taunt us.

Stars glittered overhead like . . . well, before writing this down, I wracked my brain for a comparison out of some book I’ve read, but Earthling authors never had anything in their sky like the Dandelion Cluster, a giant puff-ball of sparkling pinpoints taking up almost a quarter of the sky, skimming the southern horizon. I know ‘cause if they did, they’d have competed to describe it over and over, in a million different ways. Visitors from the crowded north part of the Slope always act amazed to see it in its glory, so I guess the Dandelion’s one good thing about living here at the southmost boonies.

It’s also one chief reason why Uriel’s predecessor built a telescope on that spot, and a dome to protect it against rain and ash from old Guenn’s frequent mini-eruptions.

Ur-ronn says there’s just one part of the mountain where the observatory can take advantage of the sea breeze and not have heat currents ruin the seeing. There are probably much better places for astronomy on the Slope. But this spot has one advantage-it’s where Uriel lives. Who else has the time, wealth, and knowledge to maintain such a hobby? No one, except perhaps the savants of Great Biblos.

The heavy cinderblock structure seemed to rise against the dazzling starry cluster, reminding me of a glaver’s muzzle, taking a bite out of a big gutchel pear. The sight made my back scales frickle. Of course at this altitude, with no clouds in the sky, the air had a chilly bite.

Whistling dismay, Ur-ronn halted in a sudden plume of dust, causing Huck to ram into me, eyestalks pronging outward, squinting in all directions at once. Little Huphu reacted by digging her claws into my shoulder, ready to leap and abandon us at the first sign of peril.

“What is it!” I whispered urgently.

“The roof is open, “ Ur-ronn explained, slipping into GalTwo as her pointed snout sniffed greedily. “The mercury float bearing, I do scent; therefore the telescope (probably) is in use. We must now undertake (swiftly) to return to our beds, not raising suspicion.”

“The hell you say,” Huck cursed. “I’m for sneakin’ in.”

They looked to me for the deciding vote. I shrugged, human-style. “We’re here. Ought to at least take a look.”

Ur-ronn corkscrewed her neck. She snorted a sigh. “Stay behind me, in that case. And in vain hope of Ifni’s luck, do remain quiet!”

So we neared the dome and made out that the roof line was split open, exposing blocky shapes to the shimmering sky. The path ended at a ground-level door- ajar-revealing dim shadows within. Huphu trembled on my shoulder, either from eagerness or from anxiety. I already regretted taking her along.

Ur-ronn was an outline, pressed against the outer wall, snaking her head through the door.

“Of all utterjeekee things, what could top her scouting ahead at night?” Huck groused. “Urs can’t see in the dark any better’n a glaver can at noon. Oughta let me do it.”

Yeah, I thought. As if g’Keks are built for stealth. But I kept silent, except for a low umble to prevent Huphu jumping off.

Switching her braided tail nervously, Ur-ronn twisted her neck inside-and her long body followed, twisting nimbly through the doorway. Huck followed close behind, all eyestalks erect and quivering. Taking up the rear, I kept swiveling to check for anyone creeping behind, though of course there was no reason to imagine someone would want to.

The main floor of the observatory looked deserted. The big scope glittered faintly under starlight. On a nearby table, one hooded lantern spilled a red-filtered glow onto a clipboarded sky chart and a pad covered with what might be mathematical markings-lots of numbers plus some symbols that weren’t part of any alphabet . . . though now that I think about it, maybe Mister Heinz did show some of them to our class, hoping to hook an interest.

“Listen and note,” Ur-ronn said. “The motor for tracking objects in compensation against Jijo’s rotation; that device is still turned on.”

Sure enough, a low, hoonlike rumble transmitted from the telescope’s case, and I smelled faint exhaust from a tiny fuel cell motor. Another extravagance almost unknown elsewhere on the Slope but allowed here because Mount Guenn is a sacred place, certain to cleanse itself of all toys, conceits, and unreverent vanities, if not tomorrow then sometime in the next hundred years.

“That means it may still be pointed wherever they were looking before they left!” Huck responded eagerly.

Who says “they” have left?-I was about to add. Turning around again, I noticed a closed door outlined by a pale rim of light. But Huck rushed on.

“Alvin, give me a boost so I can look!”

“Hr-r-rm? But-“

“Alvin!” A wheel stroked one of my footpads, as a warning to do what I was told.

“What? A boost?” I saw no ramp or other way for Huck to reach the scope’s eyepiece, only a chair resting next to the table. Still, the best course would be to let her have her way, as quickly and silently as possible, rather than forcing an argument.

“Hrrrm . . . well, all right. But keep it quiet, will you?”

I stepped behind Huck, squatted down, and slung both arms under her axle frame. I grunted, lifting her to bring one stalk level with the eyepiece.

“Hold still!” she hissed.

“I am . . . hrm-rm . . . trying . . .”

I let my arm bones slip slightly, so the elbow joints clicked into a locked position-a trick I’m told humans and urs are jealous of, since even the strongest human who tried this would have to do it using muscle power alone. Even so, Huck had put on weight, and holding her in place meant standing in a bent-over half-squat. Whenever I grunted, she’d twist a free stalk round to glare, just a handsbreadth from my face, as if I was annoying her on purpose.