Before They Were Giants (28 page)

“Yes,” Jink said, surprised. That was it exactly. His mind had been heaving with little things that meant nothing to her: numbers and quotas, money, promotion, service record . . . She shook her head to free it from those hard, incomprehensible thoughts.

“They are all the same,” T’orre Na said softly. “I have been to their Port and I have seen.”

Jink and Oriyest said nothing. Not far away they heard one of the flock shifting over the rocky ground, sending pebbles scattering along the gully. There was an enquiring low from another, then silence.

“They should be made to hear,” Jink said finally. T ‘orre Na looked at Oriyest who looked right back. The journeywoman sighed.

“Very well. What will you ask for?”

Jink pondered. The usual penalty for triggering a burn was double the amount of destroyed land from the wrongdoer’s holdings. But the Outlandar had no land to give.

“We will ask a hearing. As our reparation price we will demand that the Outlandar listen to us. Listen and hear. We will teach about burnstone. We will demand to learn what it is they want from us, why they came here and put their store buildings on our grazing lands. And when we know more, we will ask more.”

Oriyest looked at the journeywoman. “Will you help us?”

T’orre Na looked from Oriyest’s steady gaze to Jink. They would do it anyway, without her. “I’ll help.”

~ * ~

Day was startled when she saw them. Natives were a very rare sight inside Port, and here were two of them, making straight for where she sat at the bar. She recognized one of them as her skinny captive. As they approached, she marvelled at how such a frail-looking thing could have dragged her, in full armour, all the way to the shelter of that rock. But she must have done. There was no other explanation.

“Greetings, Mirror.”

“Hello.” She lifted her helmet off the stool next to her. “Uh, sit down.”

Oriyest nodded. They sat. Day cleared her throat.

“You shouldn’t be here. Technically, you’re an escapee.” She felt awkward.

“Will you help us?” Jink asked.

“Well, sure. But all you have to do is lose yourself. Leave Port. No one’ll think to chase you up.”

The other one seemed amused. “You mistake us, Mirror.”

The skinny captive, Jink, laid a hand on her arm. “Listen to us,” she said. “If you can help, we would thank you. It costs nothing to listen, Mirror Day.” Day blinked. “Will you hear us?”

“Go ahead.”

The other one spoke. “I am Oriyest. Jink and I tend our flock. Some seasons are good, some are not so good, but we expect this and we survive. This would have been a good season but for the burn you and your companion started.” Her brown eyes were intent on Day’s. “ When you built your store place on our land, we thought: it is not good grazing land they have chosen; perhaps the Outlandar do not know of our custom of permission and barter; we will not make complaint. This has changed.”

“Now wait a minute. That land is Company land.”

“No.”

“Yes. God above, the whole planet is Company land!”

“No.” Oriyest’s eyes glittered like hard glass beads. “Listen to me, Mirror Day, and hear. Seven seasons ago we petitioned the journeywomen. The land between the two hills of Yelland and K’thanrise, between the river that runs to the sea and the rocks known as Lother’s Finger, was deemed to be ours to use until we no longer have need of it.”

Day had never thought about natives owning things. “Do you have any of that recorded?”

Jink frowned. “Recorded?”

“Yes. Recorded on a disc or in a— No, I don’t suppose you would. Anything written down?” She looked at their blank faces. “Here.” She pulled a pad and stylus from her belt. Wrote briefly. “See?”

Jink looked at the marks on the pad thoughtfully. “This is a message?”

“Of sorts. Do you have any, uh, messages saying the land is yours?”

“Our messages last long enough to be understood. Then…” Jink shrugged.

Day drummed her fingers on the bar. There must be some way they recorded things. She tried again.

“How would you settle a dispute?” She groped for words. “What would happen if another herder moved onto your land and claimed it?”

“They would not do that. Everyone knows that land is for our use. If they need more land, they have only to ask.”

“But how would they know the land is yours? You could be lying.”

Day caught Oriyest looking at her as though she were stupid. “If a herder thought that through some madness I spoke an untruth,” she said, slowly, distinctly, “a journeywoman would be summoned. She would speak the right of it.”

“But how would she know?”

Jink gestured impatiently. “How does anyone know anything? We remember.”

“But what if a journeywoman forgot?”

“Journeywomen do not forget.” Her voice was suddenly flat, cold. She leaned towards the Mirror and Day found herself afraid of the alien presence before her.

“There is a life between us, Mirror Day. I ask you once again: will you aid us?”

Day was afraid. She was made more afraid by the fact that she did not understand what she was afraid of. She licked her lips. “If a journeywoman will speak for you . . .” She hesitated but neither Jink nor Oriyest stirred. “If that’s your law then I’ll see what I can do.” Day wished she had another drink. “Look, I can’t do much. I’m only a Mirror. But I’ll find out who can help you. I can’t guarantee anything. You understand?”

“We understand.” Oriyest nodded once. “I will bring the journeywoman.” She slid from her stool and was gone.

“Will she be long?”

“Not very long.”

“Long enough for a drink,” Day muttered to herself. She raised a finger to the bartender, who poured her another beer. She stared into her glass, refusing to look at Jink. The minutes passed. Now and then she raised her head to glance at her helmet on the bar. The doorway was reflected in its mirror visor. Men and women came and went, mostly Mirrors snatching an hour’s relaxation between shifts.

Maybe she should just cut and run. She couldn’t afford to get mixed up in a natives’ rights campaign. Her promotion to sergeant was due in about eight months. Maybe even a transfer. But if Company got wind of all this . . . Then she remembered the look in Jink’s eyes, the way she had said: There is a life between us. Day shuddered, thinking of her own reply: I’ll see what I can do. In some way she did not fully understand, she realized that she was committed. But to what? She sipped her beer and brooded.

When Oriyest entered with the cloaked journeywoman, Day deliberately took her time to swing her stool round to face the natives.

The woman standing next to Oriyest seemed unremarkable. Day had expected someone more imposing. She did not even have the kind of solemn dignity which Day, over the years and on various tours of duty, had come to associate with those of local importance.

The journeywoman slipped her hood from her head, smiled and held out her hand earth-style. “I am named T’orre Na, a viajera, or journeywoman.”

Automatically, Day drew herself upright.

“Officer Day, ma’am.” She had to stop herself from saluting. She broke into a sweat. She would never have been able to live that down. Saluting a native . . .

T’orre Na gestured slightly at their surroundings. “Can you speak freely here?”

“Yes.” Day glanced at the time display on her wristcom. Most of the Mirrors would be back on shift in a few minutes and the main damage, being seen with the natives in the first place, was already done. They sat in a corner booth. Day wanted another beer but wondered if alcohol would offend the journey-woman. To hell with it. “I’m having another beer. Anything I can get any of you?”

T‘orre Na nodded. “A beer for myself, Officer Day.” T‘orre Na turned to Jink and Oriyest. “Have you sampled Terrene beer? No? It’s good.” She laughed. “Not as strong as feast macha but pleasant all the same.”

The beer came. All four drank; T‘orre Na licked the foam from her lips with evident enjoyment.

Day spoke first. “As I’ve already said, to Jink and Oriyest, I can’t do much to help.”

“Officer Day, I believe that you can. Tell me, what is the normal complaints procedure?”

“There isn’t one. Not for n— the indigenous population.”

“What procedure, then, would you yourself use if you had cause for complaint?”

“Officially, all complaints from lower grades get passed to their immediate superiors, but,” Day leaned back in her chair and shrugged, “usually the complaints are about senior officers. Company doesn’t have much time for complaints.”

T’orre Na pushed her glass of beer around thoughtfully. “Not all Outlandar are Company,” she said.

Day frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Settlement and Education Councils’ representative.”

“Courtivron, the SEC rep? You’re mad,” Day said. “Look, you just don’t know how things work around here.”

“Explain it to us then, Mirror,” said Oriyest.

“It’s too complicated.”

Oriyest’s voice remained even. “You insult us, Mirror.”

That brought Day up short. Insult them?

T’orre Na leaned forward. “Officer Day,” she said softly, “you are not the first Outlandar with whom I have had speech. Nor will you be the last. We are aware that we need more knowledge, that is why we ask for your help. Do not assume that ignorance is stupidity. And do not assume that my ignorance is total. I understand your . . . hierarchies. You have merely confirmed my guesses so far.”

Day did not know what to think.

“The information we need is simple. Jink met a lieutenant she thinks would help us. We need to find her.”

“What’s her name?”

“We don’t know. We have her description.” T’orre Na nodded at Jink.

“Tall, a handwidth taller than yourself, Mirror Day. Eyes light brown with darker circles round the rim of the iris. Thin face. Pale skin with too many lines for her seasons.” Jink looked at Day. “I judge her to be younger than yourself. Square chin, medium lips with a tilt in the left corner. Her hair is this colour,” she pointed to the wood-effect table top, “and is not straight. It’s longer than yours. She has no holes in her ears for jewellery. You know such a one?”

Day nodded. Lieutenant Danner. The one on accelerated promotion. By the time Day made staff sergeant, or the heady heights of lieutenant, Danner would be a commander. At least.

T’orre Na was watching her. “Will this lieutenant listen?”

“Yes. Lieutenant Danner will listen to anyone.”

“You do not approve.”

“No. She’s too young, too unprofessional.”

“Too willing to listen.”

Day opened her mouth then shut it again. The journeywoman’s tone had said: what is wrong with listening? Just as Jink had said earlier. Day felt her world tilting. These crazy natives were confusing her, never reacting the way they should. The sooner she got rid of them the better.

“I’ll find the lieutenant.”

~ * ~

They were all crowded into Lieutenant Danner’s living mod. Jink shifted uncomfortably. The space was too small for two, let alone five. T’orre Na and the lieutenant sat cross-legged on the bed, Oriyest sat on the floor, and Day stood at parade rest by the doorport. Jink herself perched on the sink in the bathroom niche, the only place left. She felt like a spare limb. Day had made the introductions but it was mainly the journeywoman and the lieutenant who spoke.