Chapter 6
Barman watched the blank expression on the young arella's face with a mixture of concern and wonder. He understood the catatonic state from a purely academic perspective, but had never witnessed this mental overload in one of the King's representatives. It occasionally happened to lesser beings, but to have it happen to one of his own was incredible. He snapped his fingers before the passive face with no acknowledgment or recognition.
In the adjoining room his partner sat alert, but badly singed. Malek looked the worse of the two, but Barman understood the senior arella's injuries didn't compare to those of this recent academy graduate.
The door banged open loudly and Garot strode in with his usual abruptness. Although short for an arella, with smallish feature and a slightly round appearance, he more than compensated for his size with an excess of energy, volume and knowledge.
He clamped Barman on the shoulder affectionately before turning toward the injured angel. He bent and blew gently into the grotesquely dilated pupils.
'Well what happened to this one?' he asked a bit too loudly.
Barman flinched and began to respond, but Garot didn't wait for an answer. He started prodding and poking his subject while maintaining a constant, thundering crescendo of words, piled on top of each other in an avalanche of sound. The ancient angel had an incredible grasp of biology, chemistry and the myriad of healing sciences, but his complete lack of social awareness made him virtually impossible to listen to.
Knowing he would be in the way, Barman excused himself and left, neither expecting or receiving acknowledgment of the fact.
As he approached the door to the adjoining room he heard an excited voice and a loud scraping noise. He entered to find two large Seraphim, each holding one of Malek's arms as the burned arella fought to rise from his chair.
'Enough,' Barman thundered, more loudly than he intended.
Three sets of eyes swiveled quickly in his direction.
'Let him go and he will stay seated and calm. He will also explain to me why one of my subordinates is in need of restraint.'
Malek's eyes met his and glanced quickly away.
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I just want to check on Cali. It is my fault he got hurt. I should have stayed with him instead of leaving him to guard the grove by himself.'
'I'm rather inclined to agree with you, but let's figure out what happened before we worry about who is to blame. Cali will be fine. If Garot can't help him we will take him back to Mount Kol for help. Now, Malek. I believe you to be sensible, so what in the wide heavens caused you to leave your post?'
Without raising his eyes to meet Barman's, he extended a large hand and opened it. Lying across the palm lay a perfect, oval sapphire. Barman recognized the signature cut of the impressive gemstone.
'The pendant of Ophanim,' Barman gasped.
'I saw the glow and thought it was his aura and thought he might escape if I waited. I flew up to investigate and there it hung. I tried to grab it, but it didn't want to move. I pulled harder and was thrown back by a hot, bright flash of light. Then I woke up here. He told me Cali is hurt,' Malek said, pointing at one of his Seraphim escorts. 'Can I go to him please?'
Barman saw the pain on his face. Few things felt worse than knowing your mistake resulted in injury to another. It happened, of course, but understanding the fact didn't make it any easier. He understood the emotion too well.
'As soon as Garot is through checking him,' he said.
There wasn't time to wonder what he would find on the other side once he stepped into the grove. Taking down the two sentries made haste all the more imperative. It wouldn't take long for another squad to come through and raise the alarm. So he walked through the shimmering veil, sensed the familiar tingle on his skin, the brief terror of falling, and then the reassuring stability of firm soil under his well-worn sandal.
His return to this familiar, and hated, world demonstrated the severity and speed of his fall. After graduating from the academy, this had been his first post- Yabler, the grungy sole of the stale boot known as the Orsule Galaxy. This primitive and remote world contained no large cities, no major industry, no advanced peoples.
The planet's population was widely dispersed in small clans functioning like large, nomadic families, moving systematically through specified regions, foraging and harvesting wild crops.
As a young representative eager to do something meaningful, it had been a disappointing shock to end up on this dull, uninspiring world, without major issues to solve or important decisions to make. Days spent with nothing to do but fly over thousands of kilocubits of forested lands looking for the small bands of simpletons comprising this world's occupants, created a fair amount of bitterness toward Yabler.
He had lobbied repeatedly to be transferred from the place. The official records surely demonstrated his disdain of the planet, making it a perfect location for his next stop. Having received no support from former friends, other than the few who offered to deliver messages, the number of open options had diminished. Several associates voiced their sympathy, but no one willing to defy the government and put their wings on the line for him.
It was time to disappear. They would be placing more guards on the grove and jumping around to different galaxies was too dangerous to continue. He needed to evaporate like the mist, and Yabler was a perfect place to do so. Here the small tribes could go months, or even years, without a visit from their representative. They wanted very little and their wide dispersion made official visits infrequent at best.
The other reason he chose this place was the Yolenes. They were his sole accomplishment during his tenure on this world.
As a young representative, he had been anxious to share all of the wonderful things that he had learned at the academy with his charges. During his visitations he attempted to expand the natives' point of view. He lectured on the benefits of a more stable agriculture, the usefulness of technology, the value of a centralized government. Yet despite his best efforts, the locals had no interest in evolving. They were content with their lives and saw no reason to change.
Except the Yolenes. That one clan listened.
When he first met them, the Yolenes inhabited the densest, roughest sector of the planet. Thick wooded stands surrounded jagged spires that rose sharply from the jungle below. The wild mushrooms, nuts and forest grains sustaining the residents of Yabler were in short supply in the harsh environment.
As a result, the Yolenes stood smaller in stature and number than their neighbors. They worked harder for less. Over the years this led many of their clan to become resentful of the neighboring tribes.
He had been amazed by their ignorance. They seemed incapable of looking at the problem from another perspective. They griped over the number of mushrooms while they sat on land that was much more valuable than that of their neighbors. They complained to their young representative, but had done nothing to improve their situation.
He introduced them to very simple mining and smelting technologies. Rocky outcrops, crisscrossed with caves, allowed the Yolenes to simply walk through and collect large chunks of mineral deposits. He showed them how to smelt and forge these ores into useful tools for clearing the land, building permanent homes and more advanced mineral extraction operations.
The Yolenes took to it with a surprising resolve and discipline. Within a short period of time stood a small, but functional, town, a rudimentary agricultural system and a new philosophy of existence.
Shortly after this triumph he was reassigned. His senior representative had been somewhat less enthusiastic about the manner and timing of his intervention. It had been a painful and humiliating ending to his proudest moment, but at least it had gotten him off of this miserable planet...for a while.
Although the idea of walking all the way to the Yolene's sector was deplorable, it was less risky than flying. He had to blend in and avoid detection. He shielded his visage and headed into the forest, turning south to foll
ow one of the tributaries that led to the larger rivers of the Tenga Valley.
'So he left his pendant just hanging there?' Araton asked.
'He had it bound in a sheet of compressed air. The same sheet was used as a separator between a chemical nitrate and some sort of ignition device. When he pulled it away it set off the explosion that rendered him unconscious,' Barman answered, pausing to pour himself a cup of tea.
They were seated on a large veranda behind Araton's estate, gazing over the meandering ribbon of the Rainbow River.
'When do you leave for your next assignment?’ he asked his old friend.
Araton sat silent, staring out over the golden grasses that rippled in the gentle breeze. He remained still, seeming lost in his thoughts. Finally he shook his head and answered.
'I have a new precept. He is very studious and young. He and I will be leaving for our preliminary survey in a few weeks, but why are you deliberately changing the subject? You do that when you don't want to say something.'
It was Barman's turn to lapse into silence. Araton waited patiently, knowing that his friend would answer eventually.
'It's because I'm a bit angry with the Kings, Araton. This shouldn't have happened. Cali, the young arella, had some sort of mental overload. Garot said it was some type of compulsion I have never heard of being used on an arella. This could have been avoided!'
'And how is this Cali?' Araton asked.
'He will be fine, but that isn't the point. The Kings knew where he was. By the heavens, they know where he is now and nothing. Not a word. I don't understand it.'
'Yet.'
'What?'
'You don't understand it yet, Barman. You've been at this long enough to understand the difference.'
'Yes, you're right, of course. I'm just frustrated. He has completely disappeared. No one knows where; well at least no one who is talking.'
'So what is your next step, my friend?'
Barman took a deep sip of his tea. He looked across the table at Araton, a resigned look and faint smile on his face.
'I wait. And I hate to wait.'