Princess of Amathar (32 page)

“Alexander.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” From the testy tone of his voice, I gathered that he had called my name more than once. Norar Remontar and I followed the four Malagor deeper into the forest to a very tall tree, with a ladder attached to the trunk. The ladder led up to a large tree-house, about the size of an average home on earth, though much smaller than Norar Remontar’s apartment in Amathar. Within was a comfortable room, furnished with several great piles of furs which served the purpose of chairs. The six of us sat down and the growling and coughing continued.

“You knew that the Malagor were here,” I said to the Amatharian prince.

“As I said before, the recovery ship located them on its way to our crash site. Of course I also knew they were here from the seven survivors rescued from the Zoasians. The Sun Clan had extensive trade relations with them in the past, and there had been indications for some time that at least one Malagor city had escaped the Zoasians. Rumors here and there. Apparently new pieces of artwork which appeared to be of Malagor origin.”

At that moment, one of the local Malagor coughed loudly, apparently addressing us. When he had our attention, he began a series of barks, growls, and snarls which when put all together, was the most extensive example of Malagor language that I had yet experienced. When he was done, Malagor, my Malagor, translated.

“This is the alpha male of the city. He wishes to thank the Amatharians for returning the lost members of the pack to the true people. He says that the Amatharians have proven themselves to be friends of the Malagor in the past, and they continue to do so. His scouts have already informed him of the destruction of the Zoasian city, which has broken the back of Zoasian power in this region. Now is the time when this city can stop hiding from its enemies and can stand up proudly to face the sleeping bitch-goddess above.”

Norar Remontar smiled and nodded and acted as though everything had gone as he expected and that he understood exactly what was going on. I on the other hand didn’t have a clue. The four Malagor got up and climbed back down out of the tree-house. The prince of Amathar and I followed. When we had reached the bottom of the ladder, Malagor, that is again, my Malagor, turned to speak to me.

“This is not my family,” he said, “but these are my people. They have been hiding from the Zoasians for a long time. Now that the Zoasian, strength in this region is weakened, they can come out in the open, reestablish trade, and live prosperously.”

“Yes, I heard that upstairs,” I replied, somewhat testily. “Are you staying here?”

“They are my people.”

“Yes.”

“We will negotiate a trade and mutual protection treaty,” suggested Norar Remontar.

“If that is what my people want,” replied Malagor. “I will do my best to arrange it.”

I gave Malagor a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and turned to walk back to the ship. At the descending platform, several dozen tons of trade goods and supplies had been lowered. I don’t know whether this was for bargaining purposes, or if it was simply a gift to the Malagor. Also on the platform were the seven Malagor rescued from the Zoasians and now being returned to their kind. Standing beside the platform, supervising the unloading were two incredibly beautiful women— Vena Remontar and her cousin Noriandara Remontar. They both smiled at me as I stepped up beside them.

“I missed you, pale one,” said Vena Remontar, as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I have missed you too,” said the Princess. I must have looked puzzled at this, for she continued. “Even a great annoyance can be missed, once one becomes used to it.”

The three of us returned to the ship when the great elevator made its next rise to the surface. The ship stayed hovering near the Malagor city for quite a while, it seemed like two or three days to me. I assume that Norar Remontar was using that time to forge the proposed treaty with the dog-like people. At last, when the ship was ready to resume its course for Amathar, I returned to say good-bye to my friend.

“Keep yourself well and safe,” I said as I looked into that hairy, long snouted face.

“Do not fear, Alexander,” he replied. “We shall meet again.”

As I was lifted up into the air, I mused upon the fact that it is much harder to be the one being left than it is being the one who is leaving. Most of my life I had leapt forward into whatever adventure awaited me, and trusted that others would manage to keep up with me or survive on their own without me. Seldom had I been the one left behind. Of course, in reality I was still the one leaving, and Malagor was staying here, but in the more metaphorical sense, he was moving on with his life, and he was leaving me behind. I looked down at the ground below and saw him. He gave one last wave and turning, entered the forest city.

Chapter Thirty Two: Return to Amathar

Shortly after leaving the Malagor city, I decided to relieve my ‘something sadness’ by going to the shipboard gym. There I hoped to practice my swordsmanship, and indeed I did, with an unexpected opponent. Noriandara Remontar was going through a series of warm up moves when I entered, and invited me to join her for a bout. I accepted. As we fought the mock battle, I compared her once again to her cousin. The Princess had as much skill and grace as Vena Remontar had demonstrated but tended to attack more fiercely and with less flourish. In the end, it was I who drew first blood ending the contest, when I scratched her shoulder with my blade.

“You are skilled,” said Noriandara Remontar.

“Yes, you have improved,” came the voice of her cousin from the doorway.

“I have had plenty of practice,” I said, as Vena Remontar walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Are you truly in love with this man,” Noriandara Remontar asked.

“Yes,” replied the beautiful form pressed against me.

“He is a good man,” continued the Princess, “but he is so pale.”

“Yes, I know,” said Vena Remontar, kissing me.

It seemed to be no time at all after we left the Malagor city, until we could spot the tremendous multi-colored landscape that was the city of Amathar. To say that it was a beautiful sight would be one of the more astounding understatements of all time. As we approached, the multi-colored pastel blur became separate sections of the city, then separate blocks, and finally separate buildings. By the time the mighty ship passed over the city wall, I could make out the individual people far below, and I could tell they were looking up at the monstrous vessel above them.

Sun Recovery Ship 2 slowed to a halt above an airfield. It looked much like the one on which I had first landed. It was a large tarmac with a number of small flying craft parked upon it and several small buildings placed around its edge. The ship prepared its huge elevators once again to debark passengers. The recovered battle cruiser would be offloaded in one of the city’s industrial centers. Vena Remontar and I, along with the Prince and Princess of Amathar were among the first to once again step onto Amatharian soil.

The four of us left the airfield and walked down the avenue, along with dozens, perhaps hundreds of others. Amatharians returning from an adventure first went to their home and made personal contact with family and friends, and only later filled out lengthy reports and records. We were no different. We were as happy to be returning to the great city as any citizen who had ever left it. Norar Remontar and his sister held hands as they walked along, with Vena Remontar and me following. Though I felt some small melancholy due to missing my friend Malagor, I knew that he was where he wanted to be, and I certainly felt at home returning here. But like anyone facing the move to a new home in a new city, I had much on my mind. I had to arrange a place of my own in which to live and there were tons of things about living in Amathar and about being an Amatharian of which I still knew nothing. Then there was the whole matter of my new relationship. It all had to be sorted out as well. We took a subway to our section of the city. This particular train was operated by the Clay clan, and was not as cozy and comfortable as others in which I have ridden, though it was nicely decorated and had several nice paintings hanging on the car wall. Compared to earthly subways— but then again, that’s really impossible. A better image might be created if you were to picture the waiting room in the office of an upscale lawyer. In any case, the vehicle got us where we were going— to the building in which all four of us resided.

When we arrived at that building— I still tend to think of it as Norar Remontar’s building, even thought I know a great many people who live there— each headed for his own apartment. I followed Norar Remontar to his, with Vena Remontar’s good-bye kiss still warming my lips. I climbed into bed in the guest room, which my friend had so generously provided me so long ago, and I fell asleep. The silky smooth sheets, though made in the style of animal skins, as is the custom in Amathar, felt oh so much better. There was none of the itchiness or smelliness which I shall always associate with sleeping on animal skins.

I didn’t feel that I had slept a particularly long time, but when I got up, Norar Remontar had already left. He had his family to see, not the least of whom was his grandfather, the Overlord of our clan. I grabbed a snack cake, which is called a knalla and is not really too different from a doughnut without a hole, and set down at the desk to write out the reports of my adventures. Amatharians preferred to see everything written out. Families appreciated seeing details of their loved one’s death in written form. Superiors expected to see lost or damaged equipment detailed in writing. This had nothing to do with liability or legality. An Amatharian’s word was his bond, and material wealth was paid far less attention than I had been used to on another world. They simply preferred the written word in so many ways. I had many things to write down. I had to write the family of Tular Maximinos and describe the details and the heroics of his last moments of life. I needed to write the families of those who had served with me and for me during the battle of Zonamis, whether they had lived or perished. It was expected. I had to write a detailed account of each new life form, plant or animal or whatever, that I had encountered. Finally I was impelled to write a long and detailed account of my entire adventure for Nevin Lorrinos. When I was done, my wrist and fingers ached. I looked down at my penmanship and was disappointed. The little predators and prey, which made up the letters in the Amatharian alphabet looked so inanimate. They looked as though they had gorged themselves and were no longer interested in hunting or in escaping the hunt. I carefully folded each, and stepping to the mail station, located on the wall next to the desk, I pressed the button which called an empty tube from the pneumatic shoot. I placed the first document in the tube, and spoke its destination into the microphone located on its side. Once the destination had been programmed, I placed the tube into the shoot, and with a “thwuck” sound it was on its way. I repeated this until all the documents had been sent.

“Nevin Lorrinos is waiting at the door,” said the mechanical voice from seemingly out of nowhere— one of the few mechanical voices acceptable in Amatharian society. I hurried to the door, for it was a relatively rare occurrence that the Overlord of the Sun Clan arrived on one’s steps. Opening the door, I beckoned him in with a flourish.

“Greetings kinsman,” the Amatharian nobleman said. His dark skin and flowing black robe made him seem like a great looming shadow, even more so because he was a head taller than me.

“Overlord,” I replied. “Please come in. May I offer you some refreshments?”

“No,” he sat down on the Amatharian equivalent of a sofa.

“I just sent out my report. It should be arriving in your office right about now.” I informed him. “I am afraid that neither my writing nor my penmanship will be up to the level of quality that you are used to.”

“I am sure that it will be acceptable. In any case that is not why I have come to see you. You are a Kurar in my clan and you must have an appropriate place. You need not continue to live as a guest in my grandson’s home.”

“I was planning to find a place of my own, though I haven’t really discovered how one is supposed to go about that yet,” I admitted.

“In Amathar, our Kurar decides where we live. In your case, where you are Kurar, I shall decide a place for you.”

“Alright,” I said, rather hesitantly if truth be known. I didn’t really know Nevin Lorrinos very well, and it seemed that he wouldn’t be as good a judge of what type of home I would prefer, as one of my friends in the city. As if guessing my hesitation, he smiled.

“Come with me. If you do not like the place that I have selected for you, then you do not have to take it.”

The Overlord stood up and led me out of Norar Remontar’s apartment. I fumbled with the door for a moment, then noticing Nevin Lorrinos’s puzzled look, I remembered that door locks were something completely unknown in Amathar. We took the escalators down the forty-five stories to the street. Stepping out into the sunshine, we walked to the end of the block, stepped onto the moving sidewalk and doubled our walking speed. After traveling about two miles, we made our way down another tree-lined path between great skyscrapers.

The entire trip, Nevin Lorrinos apparently felt little compelled to pass idle conversation. Amatharian people as a whole, while not exactly tight-lipped, don’t spend a lot of time talking about nothing, like so many people on Earth are wont to do. But the Overlord of the Sun Clan made no unnecessary conversation at all. We talked of neither the weather nor philosophy. Our only conversation consisted of whether I had received all of the material goods which were necessary for a knight— new clean tabards, replacements for equipment lost, etc. I for the most part, not being yet a proper Amatharian, had not yet even thought to look into those details. I was home. I had my sword and my soul. That was all I had taken care to see to.

“Here,” said the Overlord, with a sweep of his hand, indicating the building in front of which we had paused. “I have decided that this is to be your family’s building.