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To their left a high waterfall plunged into a series of three cascades, which widened into a network of ponds draining into a wide river that bisected the valley. Tall trees laden with fruits clustered around the river. The valley walls were sheer and deeply undercut, providing shelter for their sleds from orbital snoops. A herd of four-legged grazers were watering on the other side of the river.
They shied away when people went to bathe, wash clothes, and fill canteens. By the time camp was set, fires were going, and fish the piols had caught were grilling, Krinata was too exhausted to think. They had come twice the usual distance that day, surmounting two hard climbs and a treacherous descent. Even Jindigar and Frey sat unmoving at their fire, waiting for their clothes to dry. The firelight glistened on their bare chests, highlighting their lack of vestigial breasts. They hardly talked to each other.
Revived by the good meal, people began to stir. The discontented tone Jindigar had cut off at the carving was back, though Frey and Jindigar seemed oblivious. Prey's eyes were closed, though he sat upright, tremors shaking him, a symptom she'd seen in Jindigar only when he was frightened. Compelled, she went to their fire, wanting to reach Frey.
Jindigar motioned her to sit beside him but whispered, "I shouldn't have asked Frey to read the plaque."
"Did he know about the natives?" He nodded, and she said, "Then it's Desdinda. If we have to risk trying to deal with that—I might be able to now. I don't know—"
"No!" said Frey hoarsely. "I'll be all right. Really."
"You will," assured Jindigar, saying to Krinata, "This is no worse than normal subform expansion throes. Quietude and sleep will heal. I've already given him a sedative. Have you discovered the contact point of the Loop?"
"Maybe. It seems embarrassingly trivial—ridiculous– but—" And she told him how she'd felt about the natives.
When she stopped, he let out a breath that could have been a smothered cry of despair and put an arm around her shoulders to hug her as he often did the Cassrian children. "I didn't mention the natives because there weren't any in this area before. There are other hopes I've not mentioned because as an Oliat officer I've learned to speak only clear certainties to ephemerals. But, Krinata, I do believe you have every hope for a good Me here."
"You're asking me to take you on faith."
"No. I don't know how things will .work out. I get clues that a singleton, or duad, can't interpret." His arm about her shoulder felt warm, trustworthy. "But there's cause for hope, and when I know—I'll say."
At that moment the Lehiroh called Ruff, the least talkative but strongest of them, came into the firelight and squatted before Jindigar, who kept his arm unselfconsciously around Krinata. "Jindigar, it was my fault. I should never have opened my mouth—but—when they accused you of lying, it just came out."
Jindigar put his other hand on the Lehiroh's shoulder and looked up at Storm, who was behind Ruff. Storm said, "About Krinata working the triad with you—the whole story from the escape from the Emperor—Desdinda—Inversion, the whole thing. Ruff broke confidence, Jindigar—but we all accept the guilt—it was unprofessional—"
Jindigar started, "It's all right, Ruff—"
But Gibson and the other humans pushed into the circle, Gibson saying, "So we're finally getting to the bottom of things." He turned to the Holot, who were crowding up too. "Did you know Prince Jindigar and Lady Zavaro
For the first time Terab seemed less than friendly to Krinata. "You could have told us what the problem was. Withholding vital information—"
At first Krinata was offended, and then she suddenly saw
that she'd done just what she distrusted Jindigar for—not
mentioning uncertainties to people with a lot on their minds.
"I never saw any point—",
"Of course, she wouldn't see any point in telling you!" Gibson declared sarcastically. "She and Jindigar are the natural leaders here. Why should they consult us? Aren't you sick of this? Don't you all think it's time to demand an accounting? The Allegiancy is dead—we've got to build something new, and it's got to start here. Are you with me?"
There was a silence. He'd landed a telling blow. Jindigar withdrew his arm from Krinata's shoulders and rose. Frey tried to get up, too, but Jindigar motioned him down, throwing a thermal cloak to him as he gathered up his shirt. "Go to sleep." He led the group toward the main watch fire.
Gibson paced Jindigar, saying, "And what about Frey? Is he sick or something?"
"He's recovering from injuries sustained in the crash," said Jindigar truthfully.
Krinata stepped out to confront Gibson. "If you must fix blame, blame me. Jindigar knew from the moment the Emperor's ship blew up that I'd never again be able to work in triad. Since you'd never known I'd done it, you didn't have to know I'd been invalided. But I was too stubborn to admit defeat. I invaded the duad, accidentally hurting Frey and Jindigar. I'll make up for that, even if it costs my life!"
"Spoken like a true aristocrat," mocked Gibson.
"I'm sorry," said Krinata sincerely. Ever since Emperor Zinzik had reinstituted aristocratic privilege, she'd loathed the system that had titled her at birth. She couldn't fight Gibson's attitude. Shaking, she gathered her thermal cloak and went off into the darkness.
She came to the latrine pit they'd dug at the very edge of the firelight—a hole with two branches across it to squat against. It stank of the mixed excrement of several species plus the degradant they poured over the mess. Upwind of it, she leaned against a rough boulder, trying to sort her emotions out. Behind her, voices mixed in urgent argument, shreds of Jindigar's tones cutting through the rush of the waterfall. "... was not born a Prince... father appointed King when we joined the Allegiancy... not interested in status... our situation... vote and let us know what we'll do tomorrow..."
All she could think about was how she'd edited the problem with the triad to avoid explaining the Desdinda Loop. Could it be shame at being*possessed? Or contempt for their intelligence? Or a desire to keep secrets from enemies? She couldn't relate to any of those ideas.
A bulging shadow whispered through the perimeter of the camp, disappearing into the dark. Jindigar! She'd almost lost sight of him before she knew she had to follow. She hurried around the circle of sleds to the point where he'd left, then struck out along the line he'd taken. She could barely make out the bushes, knee-high grass, and occasional tree. But as her eyes adjusted she caught flickers of movement ahead of her. Then they disappeared.
"Jindigar!" she called. "Jindigar?"
"Over here!" echoed a voice. "Krinata? What—?" He appeared again and she saw he'd gone into a side canyon. Seeing her, he came back to meet her, taking her hand. "Careful, lot of rocks here. What's happened?"
"Nothing, I just—" He was carrying something. "What's that?"
"Lelwatha's whule." He held up a long-necked, bulbous instrument gleaming even in the barely moonlit dark. Lelwatha had been zunre to Jindigar. She'd heard Jindigar play only once, while grieving over Lelwatha's death. "I shouldn't have come," she said, knowing how he occasionally craved seclusion, and not wanting to invade a private moment.
"It's all right. They don't want you back there, either. Come, look what I've found!"
There was a trickle of waterfall at the end of the small canyon. Jindigar built a fire in a rocky space just before its catch basin. The firelight danced in the ethereal spray. "Won't the dampness ruin the whule?"