10 - Children, You're late

Dukir stood at the top of the rift and looked out over the basin spreading before him.  He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d gotten used to having the young Emir-al with him, playing the part of the grizzled old Amir who spent his remaining days until retirement wiping young Emir-al’s noses and bottoms and kept them from getting too many of the foot, the kapikulu, killed.

Things hadn’t been right, since Diryish died.  He was too old to be a proper spymaster anymore, with a bag of mandery tricks, dancing around the nets and traps and pitfalls of his craft.  It wasn’t fun anymore and the ability to shift his appearance and demeanor in a moment was almost tiring instead of exhilarating.

I should retire and play with my grandbabies.  Fak I’m not sure I can even remember what ‘my’ face feels like. Right now he was a fussy, annoying old herbalist, come all the way from the city down to Trovi to buy from the lush grounds of the Trovian delta.

The cliffs reached out and down in great falls of stone, the sand growing darker and more toxic the lower it lay, till it was almost red in the lowest waves of the basin.  To Dukir’s left the river trickled out over the edge in a white thread that evaporated less than a quarter of the way to the bottom. At one time the water had been so precious that none of the delta tributaries fell over the edge.  None of the water had even reached the edge of the highlands, but now there was enough planetary water that letting some flow free was a luxury.

That basin was supposed to be full of water by now, you fakkin owner.  There were supposed to be oceans.  That was the contract.

“Oh my goodness!” He exclaimed to his guide.  “Oh, oh that is so... vast!”  His hands fluttered ineffectually somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulders and he shuddered in horror at this vastness so nakedly displayed.

The village urchin he’d hired didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll.  He’d been guiding old Naser ‘Sherfa’ for long enough that he was heartily tired of him, for all that he paid in good Lainz cash. It was the fourth time he’d asked to be guided along the edge, supposedly searching for an elusive plant that he’d completely made up, for a market he did not have.

The warmaster from Milar and his new Radiance did work together well, and he found both of them like minded enough that it was easy to work with both of them.  It had been weeks since their operatives had actually messaged from the other continent, Prime’s nest.

Four youngsters had set off, leaving a trail of repeating lin stations behind as they managed the difficult and dangerous trek.  They’d made it, three of them and begun sending invaluable information back from this place called Xanadu.

Out here on the edge the wind howled like a bush dragon and flung sand with the gleeful abandon of a toddler.  Naser Sherfa shuddered delicately and drew his fancy veil and sarband across his face.  “Ah, my faithful Trovian!  It seems we have failed in our magnificent quest, once again!”

He could almost hear the boy’s teeth grinding, at his fruity condescension but answered mildly enough.  “It would seem so, Naser.”

“Well, we shall have to pursue this fickle vegetation once more, tomorrow!  For now let us return to your charming domicile!”

“Yes, Naser.”  Thank the light and the dark I don’t have to be here much longer, this child’s mother is starting to imagine I’m choosing to stay at her hostel because I’m attracted to her. It helps my cover, so I’m leading the poor woman on, but her mother cannot stand me, and I’m encouraging that antipathy.

He sighed to himself.  He’d have to disappear into the local hive offices here, soon. You’re late, children.  Light and Dark don’t get yourselves caught.