Ancestor's World (35 page)

Inside the City of White Stone, Etsane followed Beloran and Khuharkk' as they picked their way down a steep stone stairwell. The stairway led beneath the Great Plaza of the city. To either side, white limestone walls rose over her head, enclosing her. They followed the stairs deeper below ground, passing into dark shadows as daylight disappeared. Their hand torches cast cones of yellow light ahead of them.

Khuharkk' had been directing the excavation of a nearby temple building when one of the Na-Dina dig crew called to him. The female digger reported that the ground- penetrating radar probe had detected hollow spaces underneath the Plaza--perhaps a series of tunnels. When they pried up a paving stone half as tall as Etsane, they found the stairwell. With hand torches, record slates, brushes, and pry-bars, the three of them were the first to go down.

Khuharkk' called out, "I'm at the bottom of the stairwell. There's a tunnel ahead."

"Is it blocked by debris?" Beloran hiss-clicked.

"No," said Khuharkk', sounding pleased. "It's just a 256

long tunnel that leads out toward the center of the Plaza. Come on."

Etsane wished Mahree were with them. In the week since the diplomat had returned from her conference with the Project Engineer, the two women had spent many hours together going over Mizari Four lexicons, doing comparative analysis of the Royal Tomb ideoglyphs, and making good headway in translating isolated First Dynasty Na-Dina glyphs. The translations, when linked to Etsane's own iconographic analysis of architectural styles and image symbology, were forming an understandable history of this first temple-city of the Na-Dina.

Suddenly, Beloran turned and glared at her, and she realized with horror that she had accidentally stepped on his tail. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The beady black eyes of the alien glowered at her, until he turned away and followed Khuharkk'.

The unfriendly Liaison always made her feel awkward, and Etsane wondered if all Modernist Na-Dina were like him.

They continued after Khuharkk', following the twisting turns of the mazelike tunnel. Finally they turned one last comer; then the three stopped abruptly.

They stood in a small rectangular chamber; in it stood the open entrances to eight new tunnels. Etsane thought they must be under the center of the Plaza now. "Khuharkk', which one do we check first?"

The Simiu's tufted tail lowered. He aimed his light at the dusty floor of white limestone blocks. "Remember how the steps in the stairwell had that notch in the middle of each riser? That's abrasion from Na-Dina tails. Now, look."

Etsane stood beside Khuharkk' while Beloran moved to one side. "I see it."

Though each of the tunnels had a thin film of dust on the floor, tail scrape-marks showed through the film. The fourth tunnel from the left had a deeper gouge running down the middle of the darkened hall. "That tunnel's had the most use."

Khuharkk' laid his pry bar and light to one side. "Beloran, 257

do you agree that this tunnel was the most active?" The alien's ears flared in a manner Etsane didn't understand. "I agree. But that was six millennia ago.

I am more curious as to why the Revered Ancestors chose to build with limestone. They had to quarry this stone in the Mountains of Faith, then transport it here by cart and river barge. Why not use the local sandstone?"

That put a talon on the question they'd all wondered about. Perhaps these tunnels held the answer.

The Simiu hefted the pry bar and torch, his vest jangling with its various instruments, then led the way once more.

They passed into the black depths of the well-used tunnel.

Etsane noticed its difference immediately. "Khuharkk'! There are niches on either side--with bones inside them!" Beloran hissed, then swung his torch, illuminating the ghostly piles of destructured skeletons. "A catacomb! This is a burial site for commoners. And"--the alien's torch stopped at one niche, illuminating a rectangular piece of clay--"also for scribes and administrators.

That is the recording tablet of a scribe, from when our people pressed styluses against wet clay to record taxes and property transactions."

Etsane felt thrilled. Maybe these tablets would hold the key to deciphering the ideoglyphs of First Dynasty Na- Dina. "Beloran, do you recognize the writing style?"

His ears perked up. "I--yes! That looks like Temple Na- Dina hieroglyphs, but in an archaic form."

Etsane agreed, judging by what she could see in the reflected light. She looked for Khuharkk'. His torch glowed dimly far down the tunnel.

"I've found something wonderful!" the Simiu yelled. Beloran hissed and hurried down the dark tunnel.

When Etsane reached the end of the catacomb tunnel, she followed the others into a small square room. Khuharkk' stood to one side, his torch sweeping back and forth across a white stone wall. On it were carved a series of glyphs.

"Etsane!" Khuharkk' growled. "That inscription seems 258

to be in several different languages. Can you recognize them?"

She stepped closer to the carved bas-relief ideoglyphs. The room's entire back wall was covered by the unpainted glyphs, the text arranged in three blocks, one to the left, one centered, and one to the right. The reading pattern seemed to be from top to bottom within each block.

She peered closely, completely absorbed with this latest discovery. Then she recognized it.

"This middle passage--it's identical to the First Dynasty ideoglyphs covering the wall of the Royal Tomb." She squinted in the dim yellow light. "The section on the right is Temple Na-Dina. It's an archaic form, like that on the tablets we just saw, but definitely the same language used in the Temples today."

A chill ran up her back as she moved over to the section on the left and touched it ever so lightly with her fingertips. She could barely allow herself to believe what she was seeing. "This one--this one is--Mizari Four!"

Beside her, Beloran stared in shocked horror.

"Etsane!" Khuharkk' moved closer, his fur tickling her bare arm. "Are you certain?"

She clutched his furry shoulder. "That's the key!" Wide-eyed, she raised her torch, pointed it at the Mizari Four she had learned from Mahree, and began translating.

"In the year when Father's Snoring had stilled and the crops--the crops were
tall and green, during the reign of-- of King A-Um Rakt, Father to his people,
Builder of the Great Pond at Shir-Li, Reader of the stars in Mother Sky, and
priest to the Ancestors of Faith,--there came
--" She paused, then nearly danced with joy. "I can read it! I can read it!" She scanned the inscription, then pointed at a section. "There! It talks about the people that came from the sky! From the description, they're unmistakably Mizari!"

Etsane turned to Khuharkk'. "The Mizari Lost Colony did stop here! Finally, we have proof."

"You are mistaken!" Beloran hissed angrily.

Etsane blinked with shock, then tried to reassure the Na-

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Dina. "Beloran, it's clear that your civilization, and your worship of the Revered Ancestors, was well underway before the Mizari arrived. Your people are the ones who created Na-Dina civilization--not the Mizari."

Beloran moved back into the shadows of the room. "You are young.

Inexperienced. Your translation is incorrect. Our people were never visited by Sky Spirits. Our First Contact came in the Modem Age." Then he walked back the way they'd come, leaving Etsane and Khuharkk' alone.

"I don't understand why he's upset," Etsane said. She used her torch to light up the three blocks of glyphs. "This is just like Jean-Francois Champol ion's translation of the Rosetta stone in 1822, or the translation of the Decree of Canopus stones. With this native inscription in Mizari Four, we can link it, glyph for glyph, with the undeciphered First Dynasty Na-Dina, and with the archaic form of Temple Na- Dina." She met Khuharkk's gaze. "For the first time in five thousand years the Na-Dina can translate records from the first seven dynasties!"

Khuharkk' patted her back, his touch reassuring. "I know, Etsane. I know."

Her friend glanced after Beloran. "But for some reason, that frightens the Liaison. I don't know why, but he's afraid to learn what really happened at the beginning of Na-Dina civilization. Perhaps he fears cultural ramifications that we cannot understand."

Etsane shook her head, unable to fathom it. She felt only joy and the honor of being the first person to read the earliest records of a great people. That honor came only because she had been in the right place at the right time, with the right knowledge. And that knowledge had been the hard gift of her father, Mefume--and her good friend, Mahree Burroughs.

In the darkness, she thought she heard a ghostly chuckle.

On his way back to the Lab--after showing the catacomb glyph-wall to Dr.

Mitchell--Khuharkk' chose the trail between the landing field and the cone-tents of the Guard encampment. Normally, he didn't come this way, preferring to keep his distance from a place overrun with weapons.

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But after the exhilarating discoveries beneath the Great Plaza, he felt he could magnanimously ignore the metallic gleam of the rifles that stood outside the tents of the Sisters.

What mattered, Khuharkk' had come to realize, was that these females were people of great Honor, who had shown their bravery during many times.

Earlier, he'd been saddened to see Bites-Hard burned so badly, so he decided to ask after her.

Pokeel looked up when he stopped in front of her cone- tent. A scroll of papers lay before her, sitting atop her low wooden desk. "Are you Khuharkk', of the clan Red Claw?"

The young Simiu felt honored by the elder female's knowledge of his clan.

"Yes, I am the youngest son to the mother of clan Red Claw," he said, speaking slowly in High Na-Dina, determined to show Honor to this commander of forty fighters. "And you are Pokeel, of the clan Sharp Teeth, of the Trade Fighter, Chief Marshal of the Queen's Own Guard." He shifted his stance, feeling somewhat anxious. "Your Sister Bites-Hard was kind to me when the Guard first came here. I wished to ask about her recovery."

Pokeel laid down her flat topographic map and looked directly at him. "You speak the words of the People, rather than relying on the device of the Sky Infidels. Why?" Khuharkk' sat back on his haunches primly, gazing up at the Na-Dina female. "Because I seek to show Honor to a people I respect."

Pokeel's ears fluttered curiously. She stared at him a long moment and he remembered not to avert his eyes, as his own customs dictated, but to respect hers. Finally, Pokeel glanced at a pot lying in the shade of the tent's awning. "And so you do, Khuharkk'. You show us honor in speaking our language. May I offer you cold tea?"

"Thank you. I am honored to share water with you." He reached into a pocket of his vest and pulled out some pills. "May I offer you some of my salt?"

"Ahhhh." Pokeel's ears fluttered again, this time in pleasure. "My salt is your salt, my water yours." She pulled

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out two cups from under her table, poured tea into each, and handed him one.

Khuharkk' sipped the bitter liquid and found it refreshing. "This is delicious."

His mane rose as he drank. "Is Bites-Hard still in her tent?"

Pokeel sipped her own tea. "She is, but she sleeps now. The doctor from the Temple of Medicine and your own Doctor Strongheart both say she is making a fine recovery. The scales will grow back, though the pattern will be irregular."

"An Honor Scar? Surely, she will be honored by her Sisters, and perhaps the Queen herself."

Pokeel laid down her cup and folded her hands over her chest. "Perhaps.

But that is not why the Sisters of the Guard fight so fiercely. We fight to show solidarity with our Sisters, so that the strength of each helps the fierceness of all. And we fight to honor the Revered Ancestors."

"So I've been told," he said in High Na-Dina, even though the hisses and clicks were far different from his language. "But I'm not sure I understand why all that you do must be done for the Ancestors?"

Pokeel looked toward the Base Camp, then to the earthen rampway that led to the Royal Tomb of A-Um Rakt. "We believe there is no separation between the world of the living and that of the dead. When we die, we remain on this world. So, of course, this is Ancestor's World." Her ears fluttered with reverence. "It is hard to see the Revered Ancestors, but they see everything, know everything, and, when we join them, they will weigh our lives on the Balance of Souls. If the Balance is good, then we join the Revered Ancestors in watching over the People. If not--" She glanced down.

"If not, then we are reborn into a new egg, fated to repeat the lessons of life all over again. And again. Until they are finally learned."

"I see how our ways of Honor are similar," Khuharkk' said, ignoring the slight ground tremor. "You live before the gaze of the Revered Ancestors, showing them honor by your devotions and your honorable actions. We live our 262

lives with dignity before each other, choosing honorable actions over dishonorable ones."

Pokeel eyed him. "So that is why you fought so fiercely against the smugglers at camp and the slavers at the corrals! And your scars, they are the visible mark of your honor fights?" Khuharkk's crest ruffled in affirmation.

Pokeel wrapped her own tail around her talon-feet. "And your honor scars, this visible sign of honor you show your fellows, you show this to your ancestors as well?"

Khuharkk' answered carefully, not wanting to offend the female. "We do not believe we exist--after death." Pokeel looked shocked. "Oh, how tragic!"

Khuharkk' settled his mane. "What we do here and now is what matters to my people. But still, we both believe that others--dead or alive--judge our actions. Yes?"

"Yes," Pokeel hissed approvingly. "Tell me more about the way of honor among the Simiu. I am a student of such matters."

"As am I myself, Chief Marshal. Let us trade stories, and understand our people better." Almost slurring his High Na-Dina from eagerness, Khuharkk'

began telling the tales of his world, tales of Honor as old as the savannas of Hurrreeah itself.