IronStar (12 page)

Before Kirrah could start inputting
dimensions and calculating the volume, number of blocks and mass of the entire
project, their party pulled up in front of huge, heavy gates set into the wall
at the angle where the dogleg changed direction away from the river.
Square-hewn logs thirty centimeters on a side and five meters tall were
reinforced and bound together by iron bands into a pair of two and a half by
five meter monolithic slabs that must mass three tonnes each. The double doors
were currently swung outward on heavy rollers set in a quarter-circle stone
track at each side. Iron bolts eight centimeters thick and most of a meter long
on the back of the door were provided with matching holes sunk in the stone
threshold.
These lads must be serious about security,
Kirrah mused.
Those
doors look like they could stop a charging mu’uthn. Maybe they have to.

More orange-and-white ribboned
soldiers manned the gate, and brief greetings and salutes were exchanged. Their
orange-and-white escort stayed at the gate, and they were handed off to yet
another group of seven mounted men. Six were wearing dun-colored uniforms with
orange-and-blue trim rather than ribbons, and the seventh Kirrah recognized as
Ana’the, the rider who had left their camp early. One of the six, a tall,
red-faced fellow with an impressive light-brown mustache, had a pair of blue
ribbons dangling from each shoulder.
We’re moving up in the ranks
,
Kirrah speculated.

As they cleared the gates, before
them stretched a broad avenue running die-straight for at least a kilometer
westward, into what appeared to be the heart of the city. Traffic was light but
brisk: carts carrying produce and merchandise, men and women in a cacophony of
colors and styles going about the business of city life, some on obvious
errands, some strolling, a young man walking a pair of animals looking a bit
like large feathered hounds on leashes: too much to take in at a glance,
although Akaray seemed intent on trying. Thin smoke rose from several chimneys
and a subtle chaos of smells wove the air, from cooking and baking to animal
musk to woodsmoke to perfume from flowers hanging in window boxes, and a dozen
less-identifiable emanations.

At the far end of the avenue a set
of taller, lighter-colored buildings rose behind yet another wall. To left and
right, regularly-spaced side streets ran straight as a grid, enclosing city
blocks each consisting of what appeared to be a single ninety-meter square building.
A single large door was centered in each side wall of these buildings, and a
number of windows opening onto the ten- to fifteen-meter wide streets suggested
a dozen apartments down each side. Along the main street most of the buildings
also had smaller doors near their corners, opening into what looked like shops
and businesses, to judge by the traffic and the simple painted or carved signs
over the doors. The overall impression was very neat and regular and somehow
civil
,
thought Kirrah. There was so far no overt sign of poverty, sickness, or crime.
Someone had obviously done some careful municipal planning.
I wonder how
they handle waste and food distribution. And guests from two hundred light
years away… I will
not
say, ‘take me to your leader’,
determined
Kirrah with an inward giggle.
I will wait politely until I am noticed.

After a carefully-counted seven
city blocks, their group paused and split into two sections. All the
orange-and-green ribboned men from their original party, except Irshe, continued
west down the main road, which her translator said was called Slow Water Road.
The reins to Kirrah’s mount were passed to Irshe who, with Akaray still perched
wide-eyed behind him, led Kirrah and their six orange-and-blue trimmed escort
north up one of the side streets. The traffic seemed more residential, less
intent. Around one of the large side doors, some kind of game involving a score
of laughing children with light wooden poles and a hoop had spilled all the way
across the street. Passers-by detoured good-naturedly around the mayhem,
although at the arrival of their party the game smoothly suspended itself and
the children parted respectfully to allow their passage.

After two blocks they came to
another city wall, with its gates standing open and unguarded. Not an exterior
wall, Kirrah realized. Their street continued another half klick or so north
where it seemed to end at yet another wall, no gate visible. The traffic was
even lighter, just a few earnest-looking young people and the occasional tradesman.
This city must be over two square kilometers, she estimated. Passing through
the open gate, they proceeded another half block, then turned into the double
doors centered on the wall of the first building to their left.

These doors swung back on a long
dimly lit enclosed stone entryway. They were met halfway along its
fifteen-meter length by a groom who took their horses through a door off the
side of the passageway. At its inner end, the entryway opened onto a
sixty-meter square interior courtyard. A small fountain and pool, flowers and a
vegetable garden that reminded Kirrah of Aunt Risa’s cottage, were set off by
trees, a few well-executed stone statues, and a group of young men and women
standing respectfully in a semicircle around the entrance.
If this
represents typical living quarters,
Kirrah thought,
this is one of the
most pleasant ‘lost colonies’ ever.

A tanned older woman wearing a long
pale yellow robe separated herself from the group, shooed the young people
away, and introduced herself as
Slaetra shu’Urwakla
. Her piercing
light-blue eyes seemed to drink in every detail of Kirrah’s outlandish garb at
a glance, lingering briefly on her face and especially her forehead.
Bet
I’ve got a good-sized bruise up there,
Kirrah thought. As Irshe introduced
their party, Kirrah tried to keep one ear tuned to his words, and one to the
wristcomp’s translation:

“Irshe shu’Kassua, ro’tachk,
shui’to’k” he said, with a shallow bow and a two-fingered gesture tapping his
breast.

« Irshe son of Kassua,
ro’tachk
,
King’s hand » rendered the wristcomp. Need to find out what
ro’tachk
means, she noted. I bet it’s ‘sergeant’. Another two-fingered gesture towards
her, and he said:

“Kirrah shu’Roehl sho’Draconis,
shai’lothashu” The woman returned her nod and repeated Kirrah’s name with
meticulous accuracy.
Hmm
, Kirrah thought,
so I’m a King’s
lotha’shu
.
I think we’d better get serious about building vocabulary
… Irshe continued:

“Akaray shu’Malafoth’shuah
sho’Malamethsha’shuah,” which came out as:

« Akaray, son of Malafoth,
deceased, from the town of Malamethsha, deceased. » Slaetra’s eyes widened at
that, and she shot a sharp glance at Irshe and back to the boy, but withheld
further comment.
For now
, said a voice in Kirrah’s mind.
This woman
is no fool, and she didn’t like the implications of that introduction, one
little bit
.

Irshe then introduced the
moustached soldier with the blue rank-ribbons, who smiled a little
apologetically at the elder woman and signaled two of his men to take up posts
at the outer end of the entry alleyway. He and the other three soldiers wearing
orange-and-blue trim then stood, apparently waiting for her. Slaetra’s lips
pursed in a fair imitation of Aunt Risa’s ‘Level One Disapproving Frown’, but
she gestured them all graciously enough across the courtyard to an outdoor
table where refreshments were being set out. She led Kirrah to a door set in
the south side wall of the inner courtyard. Kirrah followed her into the small
but comfortably-furnished apartment and was introduced to a young dark-blonde
woman named Tash’ta who seemed to be assigned as her personal maid. She was
just being shown the bath facilities when:

“Kirrah! Kirrah! Ak’mara, ak’mara…”
came Akaray’s obviously-distressed call from the courtyard. Kirrah found she
needed no wristcomp to recognize “Don’t leave me!” She dodged around the
startled pair of women who were showing her around the apartment, and with them
both trailing anxiously behind, double-timed out into the courtyard. Akaray,
Irshe and the blue-ribboned armsman were staring at one another in a kind of
frozen tableau.

« …but Lord Tsano himself will
wathra’ch
you » said Irshe via her wristcomp. Akaray ran to her and wrapped his arms
around her waist, then after a moment stood beside her with a near-deathgrip on
her left hand.
Nobody’s gonna
wathra’ch
this kid while I have a
beamer
, thought something dark and
pushing
against Kirrah’s control.
Hey, these are friends,
she thought back.
I think. And let’s get our
hand away from the beamer, Irshe’s no fool when it comes to weapons, even
unfamiliar ones.

« Akaray borrowed by Kirrah, » the
boy stated, his voice echoing in Standard from her wristcomp.
Excuse me?

« Two lives balanced! » Then after
a brief pause he added, somewhat triumphantly, « King’s foot! ».

« The child is afraid, » said
Slaetra, with what Kirrah would have sworn was Aunt Risa’s ‘Level Two
Disapproving Frown with Cautionary Eyebrows’.

« Can the King wait some days? »
When the two men’s glances locked for a moment, she added « King’s foot, the
boy is right. » With the defeated look of those who have taken too long to
answer, the men shrugged and surrendered.

With some fumbling of language and
gestures, Irshe conveyed that he must report to Lord Tsano what he had seen at
Akaray’s village; that he was assigned to Kirrah as ‘King’s Ear’, which
probably meant something like ‘diplomatic liaison’; and that he would be back
as soon as his duties allowed. The boy would stay with Kirrah, in a sort of
temporary adoption status (
‘borrowed’?
). She was …billeted, she
supposed, with Slaetra, in what could well turn out to be a school (it had that
look), and would have a day or two to prepare for an audience with Lord Tsano,
who was apparently King over both the city and the surrounding territory. The
six guards, ‘King’s teeth’ (palace guards?) would remain on duty.
Just how
many of the King’s body parts have become idioms?
Kirrah wondered, a little
irreverently.

Later, she was to learn ‘King’s
foot’ should have been translated ‘King’s footprint’, idiomatic for something
like ‘legal precedent’, meaning literally ‘where the King has stood before’. It
would also turn out that one of these precedents was that when two people had
risked their lives for one another
(‘two lives balanced’)
, something
like a legal wardship was automatically granted if one was a child and one was
an adult, and both agreed. How this too-bright-for-his-own-good eight-year-old
had heard of this, and managed to dredge the fact up and throw it out at need,
remained a mystery.

Her immediate problem, however, was
the temptation of the steaming hot bath waiting in her apartment. Kirrah felt
very reluctant to part with her suit, even for a moment. Her sidearm would not
respond to anyone’s commands other than hers; similarly the wristcomp and
integrated suit controls were keyable to her password and biometric signature.
That left theft and personal attack as the risks. With Akaray occupied in the
next room by a plateful of fruit, and Slaetra and Tash’ta watching patiently,
acquiescing to these risks seemed a bit… overly suspicious, downright
unfriendly
even.

When Slaetra made a gentle show of
holding her nose, combined with a gesture towards the generous tub of hot water
and an ‘Arched Eyebrow, Level One, Faintly Amused’, Kirrah decided she had to
find some compromise or be branded an ignorant, smelly foreigner.
Accurately
branded, she had to agree. She had little doubt that her every action was
being closely observed and would in due course find its way to His Majesty, who
could scarcely have selected a shrewder or more keenly observant custodian than
this woman with the pale blue eyes.
Could be they’re checking that you’re
fully human
, Kirrah thought,
Or perhaps they just want you to smell
better.

On inspiration, Kirrah keyed the
suit to open partially at the front, extruded the left glove from its place
rolled up in the cuff, and with it gripped the four-centimeter feed pipe behind
the tub. She made a show of wriggling out of the rest of the suit, while
setting up the command:

<
Emergency Splints; Fractures;

Immobilize; Left Hand; Override
>.

As the suit’s left fingers locked
around the pipe in a grip that no technology on this planet could likely break,
Kirrah slipped free of the wretched, lifesaving covering for the first time
since, since,
since
…
well, say it: since Captain Leitch had ordered
them all into survival suits aboard the Arvida-Yee, about ninety-six hours ago.
And then died, along with the rest of her crewmates
. There. When you
actually thought it, it still hurt, but it didn’t gnaw away like it had been
doing, dull teeth busy around her heart, while she’d been so urgently
not-thinking about it. Sudden tears stinging her eyes, she looked up to see
Slaetra’s initial nose-wrinkled distaste turning to a look of concern, and
Tash’ta’s gaze lowering.

Phew! This undersuit really was…
ripe
, Kirrah thought as she stripped out of it as well. An
eclectic brew of drop-bubble gel, sweat, swamp water, ashes and overdone
essence-of-Kirrah made the once-soft garment almost capable of standing on its
own.