Chapter 4: When you see me, I won't see you smile

Old readers may want to read the earlier chapters again. There are some small changes to the plot.

Interrupt:

When this book came to be, many voices till then against its publication balked. That is possibly because it tells stories in a way it shouldn't, but then any form of understanding is better than none.

The planet Echo-Vasili-99-77-A4, forever burnt into our memories now as Kharke, was first discovered by a winged vader in 33 JHE, relatively early in the days of planetary seeding. Because the star-system of the planet contained an M-class giant, and the planet itself was radioactively and zetanically unstable, the vader duly recorded the system and the planet in it's discs, but failed to give it any kind of priority at all. It was just another planet in just another galaxy, much like millions of other planets, barren and unwholesome for life and planetary seeding.

It was exactly three hundred years later, in 333 JHE that a human crew - the armed wing of Jherov: a Kaplar X23 'Hummingbird' - stumbled on the planet, mostly by accident. It led to the greatest xenoarcheological find in our race's history, and even a hundred years after the first glimpses of Kharke, we have only more questions than answers.

What confuses most people at first is the nature of the find. It isn't archeological per se - oh it is definitely the last message of an ancient civilization, but archeology implies a death, and no one is sure that Kharke is dead, yet. The planet with radiation and zetan levels high enough for it to be open sun-space is certainly dead. But what was once Kharke is now condensed into a structure - an oddly shaped hemispherical ring - that talks to any intelligent creature that happens to drop by in a spaceship.

What's even more confusing, it tells them stories.

You will certainly ask why this information is an interrupt rather than an introduction. I'll give you an answer: when I was young, my father took me to an N-Star - the one in Kohana - and let me look at the nebulae in all it's glory. I asked him to tell me all about the nebula, and he began: his extempore was extensive, from the beginning of human civilization to recent myths about the N-Star. He told me that in Ancient Earth, in Egypt, the nebula came to represent the shower-givers of the Gods. When my father and I went there, it was the time of the great Religion Revival and the arguments of the Maraki cult made great contrast. He told me other things too, much more than I could digest at that moment. Then, when we were preparing to go, he asked me what I'd learned about the nebula from him.

I told him, "Quite a lot" and he smiled.

"Nothing," he said, "because all what I've told you is what humans think of the nebula, you have learnt nothing about the nebula itself."

It was then, I think, that I first understood what archeologists have to do. To learn about Kharke, you'll have to know the stories Kharke tells you, not what a horde of xenoarchs think about it. Oh, I'll certainly tell you what I think about it, but that will be only an interruption: you'll have to listen more intently to the tales that Kharke spins.

Milano Sreven

Chief Digger, Kharke Find.

Part One

Choda glanced the delicate gold necklace her husband had given her to wear. It was a lean enough piece, especially when you compare it to the ostentatious charms that seemed to be the fashion of the day, but the red quiverstone in the inset made it glimmer a bit too much. It was not everyday that Jarl decided to give her a present, but she'll have to shrug this by, especially at this time. If there was one unwritten rule for a high-priestess, it was that modesty was a virtue. She sighed; she rather liked the necklace, but at least, she was better off than the other residents of the Order.

She glanced into the mirror. Her dress - the white shimmer of a high priestess' - looked good on her. Her orange eyes sparkled in contrast to the whiteness in her dress and the drabness of the room, and though the dress was the uniform white and the room regulation plain, the overall effect was decidedly not modest. Anything but. She stood in the room like she owned the world, and she filled out and fluttered the dress with her zeal. Her eyes glittered suddenly as she remembered what it has taken her to reach this far.

She smiled. A short prayer to the Lord was in order. She still had a long way to go. The mirror told her that her hair - once a shining blond was now markedly dimmer and starting to gray around her ears and her temple.

She brushed those hairs away and turned to find Jarl behind her, smiling. He took her in his arms, and kissed her, gently. His arms around her felt as good as it had felt thirty years ago when they had first kissed. Perhaps, even more nice, now that he'd learnt to hold her just right and press her just so against his body.

She sighed and broke the kiss. They wouldn't be able to see each other for at least a year now. The duties of a high-priestess weren't something to shrug off, and the Order always called when she most wanted to stay away. She wanted to see Jia's baby - a strong boy Jarl had told her - but that would have to wait.

She looked into her husband's face. His hair was all gray, and there were tingle-lines around his eyes. Thirty years ago, Jarl must've been harder, stronger and handsomer. Choda shrugged. For her, Jarl was always Jarl - then, now, forever. She sat down with him to talk. It was their last night together and there was a lot to talk about.

She smiled when he kissed her again. Perhaps that could wait.

Outside her room, beyond a huge arched corridor that spun in circles around the palatial entrance to the Guard, outside twin doors that locked it from prying eyes like an iron door holds tight vaults, beyond the garden and above it, a graying eagle was gazing down, looking for prey. It had already fed once that night and had more than exhausted its appetite, it was now searching merely for some sport. Lazily, it's eyes wandered over the whole of man's creation beneath.

It saw a giant building, enormous enough that it nearly filled half of its vision even though it was quite far up. Lush land encircled it, and shards of a fence made from bushes and trees and grown wood reined it in. The fence ringed around the plot and enclosed it from land on one side, and shimmering blue water on the other. As the eagle slowly glided through the misty night air, it made out many details surrounding the building: a strongly enclosed padded area that knight apprentices used to train and practice, a mages shaft - a garden of violet and green - around which hung a constant shimmer of faint blue, a pool - it's water strangely green unlike the blue of the ocean around the fence, all deserted now that it was night. The eagle wouldn't wait to see the break of the twin suns, when the Order would rise to a new day with a strength of a thousand cockatoos.

All what it did see within the fence however, paled in comparison to the enormous statue of a man right in the centre of the compound, and just before the building, its strength and vigor eclipsing the building's giant girth. The eagle stared at the colossal construction. The man in the statue had to be at least half a kilometer tall, but the strength in the statue didn't come from dimensions alone, there was something in it that hinted of... magic. The eagle decided that it didn't like this place and was about to veer off when it saw a movement beside the statue. At first it thought it was some prey, and it started to prepare for another kill, but the statue had fooled even the eagle. It's sharp eyes spotted a white robe almost hidden by the pale shadow of the statue against the moon, and it flew away. Humans... too big to be a prey and too weak to be a bother.

The human down there was waiting for something, a message perhaps since he had the unnatural stillness that was accorded to one used to waiting for news, but his eyes were alert in the dim light. He flicked a hand, and for a while, a green-blue light flickered in the air above him. The light was weak, and by the furtiveness in the air, it was deliberately so, but it was strong enough to reveal another figure, clad in all black and so short that it seemed a child so very close to the man and the statue. The eagle, now long gone, had caught them in the middle of a conversation.

"But the girl is weak yet" the dark figure was saying.

"And the boy?" the man asked, his voice gruff and silvery at the same time.

The dark figure was silent, the edges of the robe it was wearing seemed to blend into the darkness, and a casual observer wouldn't have seen it at all. It seemed to soak close to the now dying light that the man had created, saying nothing, and hardly being there.

"It is no use," the man continued, "we could have searched for them before if we'd believed this trail to be true. Now that the knight has got to them, perhaps it would be wiser to..."

The figure didn't need the rest to be said to understand. "But our foolish knight is even now plotting to bring them here."

"And what would you have me do?" the man's voice now had an edge of impatience. "Waste them here, at Shinza's Guard?" He glanced at the statue behind him which suddenly seemed bigger than before. "No, that won't do. This close to the turning, that won't do."

"Ships could weather a storm, and ships could sink." The figure said that as if it were grinning, but the man saw no teeth.

"It could," he agreed, and stared at the wisp before him. "Well I trust you would know what to do?"

It knew that the question need no reply and listened as the man went on, but even now, it was plotting the plan and relishing the kill. Sad that it would have to be over water... water it didn't like, it couldn't bend.

"... have to go to the Council meeting early morn. Who would've thought a mere chickborn would become a high priest... well I suppose she could have her uses." The man sensed that the figure was becoming more impatient by the minute. "Come here when you have done the deed," he told it, "Not before. And if you fail..."

The unspoken word hung in the air, the taste of a future that both the leaving man and beast couldn't direct, but the statue, for an instant, was more still than it should be - the power of a dead god within it giving it something resembling life.

The statue was still silent the next day when the Council met, but it didn't bear witness to that meeting since the Council of Seven held its meetings every week in the Hall of the Future, one of the most luxurious rooms inside the Guard.

The room was full when the high priests arrived, Choda bringing up the rear since she was the youngest. She glanced at the room that she had so often seen as an apprentice, and then as a priest, and then as a candidate, and it looked much the same as before when she took her seat at a head of the large oblong table that the priests occupied. To her right and left, the Seven sat - seven high priests for every province of Kharke. She smiled... the ancient wars were done, and what had been seven had become twice twenty in the new wars that followed. And yet, Shinza's Guard ruled the unruled of Kharke - any place, village, island, or town that didn't swear loyalty to any king or queen in the realm could apply and obtain the protection of the Guard. And Seven ruled the Guard, and she was one of those seven - the youngest of those seven.

The business today was routine, for the most part - an altercation between the kings of Mariyath and Sura, the issue of the descendants and heirs of Junn, the thieves of Almaraith that had become more of a pest now than in the past, suspected dark-dwellers in Karit, and of course the relentless advance of the Ashlands. Choda had heard cases like these in the past. Shinza's Guard was supposed to be above kings, and any decision taken by the Council was binding on the civilized realm, with the knights of Shinza to enforce their bidding. She glanced at the surreptitious circle of knights that ringed the room. They had a vigor that would remain invisible and yet incalculably important that was apparent to every one in the room. The Guard had two fists - one with wisdom, the Seven, and one with might, the Knights. People often forgot the Seven, and indeed Choda knew that compared to the knights they were a most unimpressive sight - seven plain men and women in drab white were hardly awe-inspiring. And yet, people often forgot that the knights served the Seven.

Choda smiled and tried to look interested. Most of the time, the Seven were there as a symbol of the Guard. The priests conducted the hearings and pronounced the sentences - and only if one among the Seven intervened, either to pass mercy or to reverse an appeal would it come to the Council's notice. And such decisions were not taken lightly - every one among the Seven were considered equals, and they spoke as one, and yet among the Seven there was a distinct order of rank and age that not one of the them broke. She could ask questions, but to pronounce a reversal, she would have to ask the Seven. It was one of the many hitches that she would face in the future when her arms would be stretched, but not in the Council since it was mostly a ceremonious affair. Rarely were any important decisions taken in the Council - Shinza's Guard was a furiously diplomatic arena of representatives from every province and state - every king and pretend-king, and yet, most of the juggling was behind the scenes. Choda didn't consider herself a diplomat, most of their connivings were way beyond her head.

Thankfully, there was no ceremony to welcome her here. After a priest is inducted into the Seven, they are hardly mentioned. Choda thought that the Seven thought of themselves as the string-pullers of the Guard, though all the string-pulling that she'd do for a few years now will be in her dreams. Live humans would come after, and she didn't relish that prospect.

She looked up from her thoughts as she heard a rustling and whispering in the hall. A man in a blue-robe was making his way towards the Seven, his head bent, but his steps unhurried and sure. Choda was all awake now, and was watching the man with curious orange eyes. She had seen a priest approach the Seven only a few times during her time here, and it was always something critical.

"My priests," he said, raising his head and Choda saw that it was Baleron. "I wish to speak in the tongue of sorrow."

A silence fell over the hall.

Choda glanced to her left and right. At the centre of the not-long round table, Drogon raised his head from his thoughts. He was the eldest and wisest of the Seven and Choda suddenly remembered the tales that she'd heard of him as a child. He was the only one among them who had been a knight and not a priest. There was no rule in the Guard that only a priest would ascend to the Seven, but that custom was so rarely broken and for so very few people that tales were told of their might and strength. It was not physical strength that the Council sought and the Seven provided, but sometimes, an iron man led where he will. Drogon's eyes, hard, black and sure, Choda thought, were as iron as they can be.

"Speak in the hall of the Shinza, my friend and speak without fear for the blue fire hears all." So he hadn't forgotten the response. The tongue of sorrow hadn't been called upon by any one of them since she could remember.

"Speak Baleron," Drogon said, and his voice added, "Speak true."

"I wish to speak of a trail my priests," Baleron started and Choda saw that his eyes were a faintly glowing blue. Startled, she realized that the priest before them was clutching on to the power - feeble though his hold may be, it was a violation of the rules in the Council where peace always reigned. And yet, Drogon and all the others didn't say anything. She looked around her, first at the Seven, then at the priests and knights. Surely, they must notice something.

"Yes?" Drogon prompted.

She saw, to a gnawing panic inside her that Baleron was hesitant to continue.

"I... speak of a girl who will break and remake the world. A girl who is even now on the way here. The girl could..."

Drogon interrupted him. "We know of this girl, Baleron."

Choda was startled. We did?

"No you do not, my priest." Baleron's voice this time was sure and strong and Drogon allowed him to continue.

"Yesterday, after my dinner prayers, the Lord... blessed me with a prophecy. A trail so sure and strong that it left me blinded and weak and powerless. It seared my head inside and out until I couldn't bear it and fainted."

"What did you see, dear priest?" Drogon's voice was soft this time, and gentle. Choda, saw to her amazement, that the grown man before them was on the verge of tears.

"I saw things that I can't name. Beings with power and might that I can't comprehend. Evil, vileness, and so, so much more. There... there can be no doubt my priest. The girl should be destroyed as soon as we can reach her. She... she cannot be allowed to survive."

"Baleron, you are still weak. Evidently, the power of the trail was too strong." Drogon sighed. "You need to rest." A flick of his finger produced two knights ready to escort the priest to his quarters. But Baleron was not ready to be dismissed.

"But my priest, you do not understand! You were not the one who saw the prophecy! You do not gather..."

"Silence! You are out of order here, Baleron!" Drogon growled. Choda had never before seen Drogon raising his voice, but its timbre and power shook the whole room and immediately cowed Baleron, who allowed himself to be led away.

When Baleron was out of the room, Drogon continued. "The Seven have already decided on this girl. There will be no talk of evil or good or killing or saving around this girl. The girl is as good or evil as any other girl of her age in Kharke, no more and no less. The trail that you heard of in this room is a false trail, made to bewilder and mock the Lord's servants, do not place your trust in it. I know, the Seven knows, that this girl is but a distraction that has been served to us to take our eyes from the larger evil that we have to face. Do not forget who we fight for and who we fight against." Drogon's strong voice carried itself around the Hall of the Future until every head present was slightly nodding. Choda was glancing at the blue tinge around Drogon's eyes, trying to understand the purpose of the spell that he was crafting. Suddenly, it unraveled in her mind and she gasped! A mindknife! Drogon's eyes found her suddenly and he shook his head slightly.

Choda was silent throughout the rest of the council, thinking about Drogon's spell. A mindknife was one of the most dangerous spells a priest could cast. It had the ability to warp a person's thinking for a small amount of time and made him think what you wanted him to. Since it was such an insidious spell, it had been barred from use except in the most dire of circumstances. What reasons could have been there to use a knife on the Council?

When the council ended and the Seven rose to leave, Drogon motioned her aside into his quarters. Choda had been in Drogon's chambers before and so she was not surprised that one of the most powerful men in the world lived in the barest of quarters. He motioned Choda to a chair and got her a cup of tea, which helped to calm her nerves.

"I used the knife for reasons I can't explain to you so don't ask," he began.

"But I have a right to know. If you think I am going to be a figurehead in the Seven, you are mistaken Drogon. I..."

"You do not intend to be a sheep even when being a sheep is probably the safest thing for you. That is only one of the many reasons why I like you, dear priest. I ask just for your trust in this, Choda. Please. I have never lied to you, and I always keep my word."

Drogon had been Choda's guardian before he was inducted into the Seven. The tale, which was still spun in the city inns ran thus: Drogon the mighty, after countless battles against the ripeness of evil, had asked to retire. The Council was however, reluctant to let a knight of his stature go, and had asked him to continue to serve the Lord. Drogon had offered a compromise, he asked to be made a Guardian. The Council had at first balked, and then relented when Drogon was adamant. The post of a Guardian was generally given to the weakest of the knights - they were bound to a priest and had to serve them till their death. The tale didn't mention that Choda was the priestess.

The link between a priest and his guardian was magical - they each could sense what the other was feeling. The bond was also one of four sacred bonds in the Order of Shinza - the greatest being honor, then love and duty, and hence could not be broken by any magic. When the War That Broke All Rules had come upon the land and the Ashlands had started their unbroken advance, Drogon was called back to the War. The bond between them had been damped, but it still remained, ready to bend to either of their wishes. The bond between a priest and his guardian was one between equals, but it usually tilted slightly in favor of the priest because of his learning. The bond between them, Choda thought, had always been equal. She remembered the many fights between them that had stretched the bond to exhaustion.

Evidently Drogon was remembering much of the same, for they both smiled suddenly.

"I trust you Drogon, always, you should know that."

Drogon bowed his head and Choda couldn't see his eyes. His voice was curiously relieved. "Thankyou, little girl. That is indeed nice to hear." Choda smiled. He hadn't called her 'little girl' since forever. When he raised his head, Choda was astonished at the wrinkles that suddenly came over his face. Drogon had grown old too much too soon. The War had taken its toll on his once vibrant body.

"Yes Choda," Drogon smiled, "I am old. That is why I cannot do this alone. I need you to help me."

Choda immediately nodded her assent.

"This girl that Baleron was speaking about, stupid old fool, coming into the Council with a thing like that. The girl - her name is Anaka and she is a Nethan. The Seven has known about her for some time now. Freka," - Freka was the Jiani prophetess - "saw her almost two years ago. We sent Andori to bring her here. We are unable to decide which side of the coin she is on. But we know this much: she is crucial to the War, and crucial to the peace. Andori is bringing her here by sea but his communications have been particularly sparse."

Choda saw the frustration in his eyes and laughed. Andori was one of the knights who didn't salute Drogon - he didn't have to. He was always behind the scenes of every victory that Drogon had led - never raved about in taverns, but vital nonetheless. She remembered Drogon's tales of Andori from long ago. There was another knight that they both revered, but Choda had forgotten his name.

"This is not a laughing matter Choda. And Andori, blast him, could very well be endangering everything by keeping us in the dark about the girl."

"You know that Andori wouldn't do anything like that unless he had reason."

Drogon shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "Yes you are right. By the Lord, there are reasons!" He glanced at the walls around her and Choda suddenly noticed a very strong whispering weave. Anybody outside would only hear the chatter of birds.

Choda raised an eyebrow but Drogon continued, "Yes, that is necessary. What I am going to tell you shouldn't leave this room. I am entrusting you to the care of Anaka. Since I don't want any attention to come upon her, you should do this subtly - it is not every day that a council member takes an interest in an apprentice. But you should take an interest in her. She is important, very much so, and I hope to the Lord that she is on our side."

Choda started to speak but Drogon interrupted. "Please Choda, no questions. I don't want you to know more. This could be dangerous to both of us and I wouldn't have told you all this if I could've knifed you. You do remember our promise?" The promise was from long ago - they had made a pact that they wouldn't use their power on each other.

"You don't have the skill to knife me, Drogon."

He smiled impishly, "Well, we haven't tried since that last time, have we? The Lord knows that I was surprised though, who would've thought that a chickborn could equal me in strength?"

Any other person would've received a death-threat if hee were to call Choda that, but she knew he meant it as a jest. A 'chickborn' was a derogatory term that the town-folk used for people of her kind - the Kiratha. Of all the races on Kharke, the Kiratha came by the power the soonest, but they were also the weakest. In Ages of Darkness, they had been persecuted with vigor by the other races, and a good shade of that discrimination still lingered.

Choda smiled. "Ah, but a chickborn could always equal a chickborn, could she not?"

Drogon's smile vanished. "How do you know that?"

Choda's smile widened. It's not often that anybody unseated Drogon. "I have my own secrets, Drogon."

It looked for a moment that Drogon was going to explode but then he deflated and sighed. "It teaches me to jest around with you, Choda. I wonder how the rest of them will take to you. It will be funny to watch you spar words with Freka, I know for a fact that she doesn't like you."

This time Choda's smile disappeared. "I can handle Freka," she grunted.

"Sure you can, but we have an another matter to discuss." Drogon said smiling, but his seriousness returned.

"Freka tells me that this girl Anaka will be the pivot on which the War will unfold. Because of that, she is important and you know what the Darkness will do to get hold of her. Don't let her go astray, Choda. Keep her within your grasp. You understand this task's importance?"

Choda nodded.

"Then, come give me a hug and then we'll leave as master Drogon and newly-ordained submissive high-priest Choda. The truth will remain inside this room."

Choda grinned. Despite the wrinkles on his face, the hug reminded her of his strength.

They did leave as Master Drogon - his head held high to project a confidence that was not there - and newly-ordained submissive high-priest Choda, her head bowed low, somehow appearing reprimanded. Appearances were kept.

Choda however, was thinking about her new charge. About Anaka. She was praying to the Lord to keep her voyage safe.

The giant statue before the building heard her prayer, but couldn't reply. And beyond the walls of its dominion, the creature that had been taking orders before was now giving some.

Part Two

The voice, strong and vibrant, carried itself even without the winds all around the small ship. The winds were fair, and the seas calm, so most of the twenty-odd sailors on the ship were listening to the daily lesson. And when they were not, they were staring at the red-haired girl - the only female - who sometimes answered the questions put to her and sometimes stuttered a hesitant reply. If they were to stare closely into her eyes (as many did) they would see that the white of her blue eyes were tinged with a hint of unnerving green. But most sailors favored the other parts of her seventeen-year old figure. While the girl and the man were sitting on the deck, a boy who glowed with the strength of restless youth was standing leaning on the planks, answering every question put to him readily. He looked bored.

"Name all the races in Kharke, Anaka, in the order of their numbers."

Anaka took a breath. This was an easier one. "Netha, Jiani, Dru, Gunchi, Oosna, Alavi, Thirath, Kiratha, Sangvi and Atho."

She smiled, it was difficult answering all of Andori's questions, but when she got something correct, she was really glad.

Andori smiled. "Good, Anaka. But do go on. Tell me more about them. Tell me also, if you have met one of them."

Anaka's heart sank. Long answers had many places where she could go wrong. She began anyway, and for once, most of the sailors concentrated more on her voice.

"The Netha is the largest race on Kharke. The whole of the western continent was originally their home. Travel by sea, to and fro, means that that is not the case now, but still over 9 in 10 people on the western continent is a Nethan. They speak a common language which the others call Nethu, but they themselves do not have any name for their language. Since they are the most numerous on Kharke, and since no one has invaded the continent to date, they remain mostly secluded from the other half of the world. The Easterners generally neglect us. I am a Nethan, and so is Zhrom."