Ammonite Stars (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #4-5 (18 page)

The two siblings exchanged glances, and the girl gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her brother acknowledged her decision with a nod of his own, and turned back to Six.

“We find that an acceptable assignment, provided you will review our position once we graduate the highest level class.”

Six was relieved. That must be a good four to five years away. He felt he had solved that problem rather neatly. Cimma watched these thoughts running across Six’s face with an amused expression, realizing that he was under the impression that the problem was solved, and not simply transferred to somebody else. Still, she did feel an affinity with these two urchins, so it would be no real hardship to give them a helping hand.

Her eyes opened as she saw both Coriolans carve a small notch out of their own hands and hold up bloody palms in her direction.

“We swear to lay down our own lives in your protection,” they chanted in unison.

Cimma smiled. “How … nice,” she managed. “Err … do you do that often?”

“It is our solemn vow to keep you safe,” the boy told her sternly.

“Yes … very comforting.” Cimma looked over their heads at Six, her eyes promising some future revenge.

Six made his way to the door. “Got to go now,” he said. “Grace and I are going up to the orbital station with Ledin. He is due to go back to work today, and Grace is going on to Valhai.”

Cimma nodded. “She told me when she came to say goodbye. Have a nice journey, both of you.”

“Thanks, but I will be back tomorrow. I have some tutorials.”

“I hear that your classes are very popular, Six. Especially with the girls, I believe?”

He smiled. “Are they? I hadn’t noticed.”

He walked away, and left Cimma staring after him. She shook her head. Whatever he was up to, he wasn’t going to tell her about it, that much was clear. But if he thought he would convince her that he was interested in any woman who wasn’t Diva, he had another think coming! She turned back to the two children with an inner sigh.

“What are your names?”

The two Coriolan thieves looked uncertainly at each other.

“Names?” echoed the boy. “We don’t have names … we are Namuri, after the blue stones of Namura – the stones they use to sharpen blades on.”

“Well, what do people call you?” asked Cimma, reasonably.

The boy stared at her. “Namuri,” he said, as if talking to a singularly stupid child.

“I meant, what is your given name? If somebody shouted at you, what would they shout?”

“Hey, Namuri!” said the boy, looking confused.

“And if they shouted at your sister?”

“Hey, Namuri!” said the boy again, looking even more confused.

Cimma thought. “Then if somebody were talking to somebody else about you or your sister, how would they refer to you?”

“Inside the clan?” asked the boy. “We don’t talk to anybody outside the clan.”

“Inside the clan,” agreed Cimma.

The boy scowled. “They would call
me
‘The young Namuri who was blessed by the stone with long fingers’, because I’m fast and good at stealing.” His fierce expression dared her to laugh. “And my sister’s known as ‘The young Namuri who was blessed by the stone with sharp sight’, because she is usually on look-out.” He glared across at her. “Which is where she should’ve been in the Widowmaker, instead of getting us into a lot of trouble with her stupid fumbling.”

“
What
?” His sister turned on him. “It was
your
fault we got caught;
You
were the one who wanted to go on for a second round. I told you it wouldn’t work.”

The boy lifted his chin. “I never make mistakes,” he muttered. “It’s girls that spoil it all. Always.”

“It is not.” The girl’s lips pursed into a tight line, and she looked away. “Though I don’t suppose you will ever admit it.”

Cimma smiled. “Well, one thing is certain. You will need names if you are to live here on Kwaide. It takes too much time to say ‘The young Namuri who was blessed by the stone with long fingers’ and … err … ‘The young Namuri who was blessed by the stone with sharp sight’, and you … err … won’t be in the same trade.”

That got their attention. “Names?” hazarded the boy. “Like the meritocrats?”

Cimma nodded. “Names you like,” she said.

“We don’t have names,” he told her. “We are Namuri.” He stared at her with a tinge of imperiousness. “We won’t like any names,” he repeated. He appeared to feel that she was lacking in understanding.

“Well, you will need proper names here.” She looked down at the proud girl. “What would you like me to call you?”

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know any names.”

Cimma thought. “How about ‘Evin’? It is one of the words for a soldier on Cesis. Or, if you don’t like that, you could use ‘Petra’, which means ‘staunch’ or ‘stone’; someone who will stay to the bitter end.”

The boy gave a snort, but his sister prodded him in the ribs with a sharp elbow to shut him up. “Petra,” she repeated thoughtfully. “It sounds all right. I don’t want a pretty name, like the rulers give themselves. Petra sounds solid. Something that tells people not to mess with me, or with the people I protect.” She turned to her brother. “What do you think?”

“I suppose it’s all right. We certainly don’t want any of those meritocratic Coriolan names, like Optimus or Maximus. We want fighting names!” He turned to Cimma. “What about me?”

Cimma put her head on one side. “How … how about ‘Jalmari’, or ‘Einar’, or perhaps ‘Tallen’?”

The boy stared. “What do they mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“The first two both mean a warrior, a fighter. Somebody who will fight to protect what they believe in.”

The boy raised a sharp chin. “They aren’t angry enough.”

“—And the last one, Tallen, is from the word on Kwaide for an eagle’s claws.”

The boy looked sideways at his sister, and gave her permission to decide with a quick lift of his head. She considered at length. They could all hear the wind whistling through the holes between the lashed logs of the cabin as she thought about it.

“My brother chooses Tallen,” she said. Her brother gave a curt nod, approving her choice.

“Then it’s settled,” said Cimma. “Tallen and Petra. Nice names. Welcome to Kwaide.”

She walked away, leaving the two young newcomers to stare after her, rather bemused expressions on their faces.

“Petra!” The boy drew out the name, trying it on his sister for size, not sounding very enthusiastic.

“Tallen!” His sister hesitated, and then repeated the name, with more conviction. “Tallen!” She nodded. “It suits you.”

Her brother stiffened. “Only foreigners and meritocrats need names. We don’t!” All the same, Tallen found himself looking around at the chill landscape of Kwaide, thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, after all. He wondered if trainee bodyguards with names got paid, on Kwaide.

LEDIN AND SIX were in their element back on the Kwaide Orbital Station. It was now a busy and thriving transport centre, with ships coming in and out from Coriolis every day. The two planets had learnt to rely on each other instead of on the Sellites; although the Sellite technology was still valued highly it was no longer the only way of life. Both Kwaide and Coriolis still traded with the Sellites, but it was on a peer-to-peer basis, with careful negotiations to find an acceptable price. Coriolis was paying off its second-hand space traders imported from the Sells, and planning to order more. Kwaide was trading for some of the essential precious metals and ore needed for its now growing industries.

Six found himself wandering into the Variance, in dock that day. The ship was immaculate – repairs hid all the damage done to her in the Kwaidian war of independence. He looked around. He had nearly died here. If Arcan and the visitor had not saved him he would have done. He must remember that he owed his life to the two of them. He wondered if that meant he was honour bound to protect them, in return, for the rest of his life; to dedicate his life to them, as Tallen and Petra’s Namuri clan seemed to believe with their fierce blood oath. In a way he did share the young Coriolans’ convictions, he thought. Perhaps not quite so vehemently, but he knew that he was obligated to both Arcan and the visitor, and that he would help them whenever he could. Or would he have done that anyway? He found himself shrugging. Who knew? And did it really matter?

“Thinking about the war?” Six jumped as a voice came from behind him.

“Ledin! Do you have to creep up on a person like that?”

“Creep up? You have got to be kidding. I was making more noise than a warthog in a mudbath.”

“Were you? Sorry … I must have been distracted.”

“Yes. I could see that. It feels like a long time ago now, doesn’t it?”

“So many things have changed. It is hard to remember the time I was little. It is like looking back through a tunnel which narrows more and more until the figures at the end are so tiny I can hardly make out who they are.”

“I know. And you wonder if you are the same person?”

“Yes! That is it exactly. When I think back to life on the old Kwaide, with … with my sisters, it seems impossible that only five years have gone by. So much has changed.”

“Good or bad?”

“Some of each. I suppose we should be pleased with the changes in the system, at least. It just makes me feel strange sometimes – as if I haven’t had enough time to catch up with things.”

Ledin gave one of his contagious smiles. “I can’t believe how my life has changed either. I have Grace … though why she has chosen me is anybody’s guess. I have traveled out of the system … me! Just an ordinary person! Even a canth has thought enough of me to form a bond. When I think about it, I feel truly privileged.”

Six examined the console of the Variance but his eyes were focused on something else. “I was just thinking that we have to protect Arcan and the visitor – at whatever cost.”

“Of course.” This was not news to Ledin.

“Even if it means losing Grace?”

Ledin treated Six to another of his infectious smiles. “I treasure every moment I am lucky enough to have with Grace. If the future is good enough to me to allow me to give my own life to save hers, or that of her friends, then I should be greatly honoured.”

Six stared out of the rexelene screen at the stars dotted around the sky outside the system. “Yes,” he said rather absently, “we have both been very lucky.” A shiver of premonition ran down his spine. “I hope we can live up to whatever is waiting for us in the future.”

TEN MINUTES LATER they were waiting for Arcan to pick Grace up and transport her to Valhai, where Aracely was still running Arcan’s foundation single-handedly. Ledin had contacted the orthogel entity via the bracelet which was permanently left on board the Kwaide Orbital Station, and it was unusual that Arcan had not appeared instantly to take them over to Valhai.

Grace was already looking worried. “Something has happened. I know it has. Oh, come on, Arcan!”

Neither Ledin nor Six tried to comfort her. They knew that she was probably right. There was a tense wait.

At last the familiar tenuous form of Arcan appeared in front of them, but he looked much thinner and ethereal than usual. Grace had leapt to her feet at the first wispy sign of his arrival.

“What is it, Arcan? What’s wrong?”

The orthogel entity gave a shudder of black. “The Dessites are attacking.”

“The Dessites? How?”

The shape shivered again, a ripple of silver traversing him. “They are somehow in my mind … They found the link between us, and tried to follow it back to Valhai. I … I had to interpose something between the Dessites and Valhai! I transported a small part of myself over to Pictoria, in the Independence, to try to hold them off. But they are too strong … I don’t know if I can …”

Grace grabbed at the shape. “How can we help? Arcan! Say something!”

The shape suddenly managed to become clearer, came into focus. “The visitor is in trouble on Pictoria. They are attacking us both at the same time, together with the trimorph twins and all the amorphs. I have to get back to Pictoria. I need to be closer to them. I can’t stay here now.”

“Then take us all with you. Take us with you to the Independence, please, Arcan! Don’t try to take on all of Dessia on your own. Take us with you!” Grace thought quickly. “—And bring Diva!”