The Caller and the Seer chanced upon a camp as night fell, and begged a spot by their fire. The n of the camp agreed, and shared of their food.
Friend travelers, one of the n said, once they had eaten their fill, perhaps you might help us to resolve a question that has troubled us.
The Seer smiled as he spoke. I deal in such, he said. Speak, and I shall answer.
The n told of their travels earlier that day, when an ox had lad itself on a stone lying loose upon the road. The unfortunate animal had been slaughtered, and their progress delayed. The n quarreled over whether the carter was at fault for not steering the animals differently, or the navigator for his choice of roads - or, as so argued, whether the ox itself bore so responsibility for where it laid its feet.
Having heard this, the Seer said that each had contributed in equal part, for any one of these might have changed the animals fate. The n were discontent with this answer, though, and pressed the Caller for any insight he might offer.
The Caller demurred that he had no answer, but when the n insisted he told them to place all of the bla on the ox, leaving none for themselves.
My friend speaks correctly, he said. In the fullness of possibility, any of you might have saved the ox. But n do not live in such a way; we walk a single path. Our footsteps are fixed as they are made. What might have been is only a distraction from what is. Therefore, consider only the next step: it is the one you may yet change.
- The Book of Eight Verses, the Verse of Growth. (New Kheman Edition, 542 PD)
He t up with the ndiko before too long; Sobriquet had led them to a disused lot a few blocks distant from the harbor. Zabala tensed, then relaxed when he saw who was approaching; he gave Michael a grateful nod.
Michael returned the gesture. You all ready? We should keep moving.
Were ready to move, Jaun Baumgart, Lekubarri said, walking up with quick, efficient steps. And to move quickly; Ardalt is growing less safe by the mont. He jerked his head towards the harbor. The cutter is at pier sixteen; there is a complent of marines onboard. If we can make it there, we should be able to depart safely. You are, of course, welco to join us.
We have our own transportation, Michael said, although Im admittedly not sure where it is or what it looks like. Ill - figure that out once weve got you on board. He shook his head, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Lets not delay. Ill lead. Zabala?
Zabala nodded, pushing his soul out to the others; sweat beaded his forehead, and one of his eyes was bloodshot, but his determined expression did not invite inquiry on his stamina. Ready, he croaked.
Michael jogged over to where Sobriquet was leaning against the side of a building. Sera? he asked.
She shook her head, wincing. Im fine, she said. Things are muddled right now, its - not pleasant. She took a long, deep breath, then pushed upright from the wall. Her eyes opened; she nodded. I can move.
Right. Michael took her at her word, turning to lead the group out of the alley. His sight roved around the deserted streets, peering between flakes of snow, but the chaos within the Assembly had yet to make itself felt outside its walls. None troubled them on the streets, but their groups size and purposeful stride did draw so odd looks-
Michael paused. I thought you were hiding us? he asked.
Maybe on a good day I could hide us in a snowstorm like this, Sobriquet muttered, scowling up at the flakes slowly drifting down from overhead. If we were standing still. But were not, and theres too much snow on the ground - and in case its escaped your notice, it is not a good day. She winced, stumbling to the side.
He caught her by the shoulder, hastily removing his hand as her scowl turned his direction. Well be fine, he said. Lets just get to the port.
They continued on to the port quarter of Calmharbor, where the snow had been ground into grey mud along most of the streets. Carts ambled down the main arteries, while n and won milled around market stalls. The attention on them lessened in the crowd, and Michael let himself relax fractionally.
He regretted it almost imdiately, the acrid sll of smoke wafting to him through the air. His sight lofted up above the buildings, gaining enough height to see the waterfront and the rows of ships moored there. Their destination, a sleek ndiko cutter, was easy to find - both because of its distinctive, modern lines, and the fact that it was on fire.
A small plu of smoke had erupted from the ships fore, monts later another followed. Shifting his sight closer, Michael could see Ardan soldiers rushing up the gangway - ensouled, scalptors mostly, though the ones on the ship were veiled. That veil was lifting now as the ships deck erupted into chaos. More fires sprang up from the ships midsection and rear, with gunfire sounding as the ndiko realized they were under attack.
A horn sounded, strident and sharp; ndiko soldiers began boiling up from belowdecks. The ships engines groaned, its screws beginning to lash at the water, but Michael could already see that a passing barge had slowed to a halt where it would block their slip.
He reeled his sight back, grim-faced, and turned to Lekubarri. New plan, he said. Were taking the other ship out.
There are a hundred marines on that ship, Lekubarri protested. The Ardans- A burst of gunfire rattled across the rooftops, echoing from buildings; the crowd convulsed in panic and began to rapidly move away from the water.
The Ardans have well more than a hundred, Michael replied. Sera, we need to find Lars and Charles.
Ive been looking, she said testily. Give a mont.
Michael nodded, stepping further out of the road as the flow of people intensified. Nobody spoke. Few scread. The street moved as a single, determined beast to draw clear of the noise.
Lekubarri seed as though he saw none of it, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the smoke rising overhead. He was muttering under his breath, nothing clear enough for Michael to pick out, but as the crowd dwindled and the noise of their rushing footsteps diminished, the bald mans head ca up.
Fine, yes, Lekubarri said. Provided we go straight to Goitxea.
Where else would we go? Michael muttered, giving him an exasperated look. I doubt any other ports are safe, even the Strait-
Found them, Sobriquet said triumphantly, grinning - then frowning. Berthed farther down the waterfront, that way.
Michael looked where she was pointing. Ah, he said. Past the ndiko ship. He turned back to Sobriquet. Dont worry about hiding us. Speed is more important; Ill deal with any problems. He turned to Zabala, jerking his head to the side.
Zabala nodded and began to urge the group towards the alley Michael had indicated. They walked quickly, just slower than a run, staying to the smallest streets that ran parallel to the waterfront. These had been deserted even before the fighting dispersed the crowd; now the only people they saw were a few vagrants that were either drunk or unwilling to move from their warm nests of cast-off clothing and scrap wood.
The sounds of gunfire filtered down between the buildings, distorted and echoing. In between the dark stretches of alley walls they caught glimpses of the fight. They passed by one street and saw that the fire had spread to the dock, urged on by firebombs from the soldiers; half of the deck was now ablaze.
At the next street the ship was barely visible. The wind had shifted, blowing smoke towards the city. Great choking clouds of it began to drift through the spaces between buildings. The port district disappeared behind a dark smog. Michael began to send his sight further ahead of their path, extending what he could see.
He drew up short, holding his hand up for a pause; the group milled behind him. Eventually, Michael turned to Zabala. Roadblock, he said. We were going to turn here.
Zabala frowned, then shook his head. Theyll have cordoned off the whole waterfront, he said. Well have to break through sowhere. You said were close?
Close as we can get on side streets, Michael said. I count - fifteen n.
Perfect. Zabala bent down and scooped up a broken half-brick from the gutter, hefting it in one hand. After you.
Michael rolled his shoulders once, exhaling slowly; in the next mont he sprang forward out of the alley. The roadblock was so distance down the street, but he had already marked each of the constables faces with his sight. His soul gusted out counter to the billowing smoke, twining around each of them before they could do more than adopt a startled look.
Were authorized to pass, Michael said, not bothering to raise his voice; the guards heard Sparks whispers better than any words. Haltingly, with jerking motions, they dragged one of the barricades aside. Michael stayed at the roadblock until Zabala had ushered the ndiko through.
The nearest constable looked at him with a shaky smile and terrified, screaming eyes. Michael felt as though a great cold fist had gripped his spine, rembering the sa eyes shining from dozens of faces in white shirts. He stared, transfixed, until Zabala gave a short, sharp whistle.
Michael shook himself and dashed after the others.
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