Worlds Spinning Round

The small, new god sounded a series of pulsed tones. The chieftain glanced quickly sideways toward the litter frame that surrounded the squat and heavy being upright in its place of honor on the lead zazumil. The mouth gaped round as if calling out, but its lack of speech was ensured by the invisible rock that filled it. Actually, there were as many such mouths, spaced evenly around the upper body, as the chieftain had legs, but more mouths in this case did not convey more information. The bars and stripes of the strange, glowing eyes still stared skyward at what surely only a deity could see, but their pattern had changed. Interpretation still lay beyond the means of the band’s best soothsayers–although, out here, any change could be taken as a warning. Finding that giant vundol in a denzog, for example, during an advance-scouting foray on paw. The creature, and possibly its companion, had flown its apparent nest at their first approach. After that, farther downwind, the Second Bodyguard had lost ziz, both the knife and the status it symbolized, when the approach of a war-armored zazumil of unheard-of size had forced a premature dig-in. Was that a change or a warning or both? Fortunately, the zazumil pack had already been hidden some distance away. The interloper had been bigger than their largest cargo zazumil, but faster, even, than their attack mounts. Had they been spotted, the incident may have turned out quite differently, and not to their advantage. They would not have found it sufficient just to flee. They had taken a chance in cutting between Mizbon and the hill country in order to avoid further encounters, a calculated risk alleviated somewhat by following, for as long as possible, the tracks of the now-distant Nozgavob traders. Breaking new trail after that to skirt the basin of the Hidden People had increased the risk again, though hopefully not from Mizbon’s unexpected military capability. So far, their luck had held. They had descended the scarp into the basin at a major gap in the higher cliffs downwind. It had been a treacherous descent accompanied by numerous sand slides on the steep slope. It was doubtful they could return the same way. Some time afterward, the advance scouts had found a small jumble of fractured peaks forming an indentation into the cliffs of the basin. If any of the rebranching passages led anywhere, they had yet to discover the route. The chieftain’s mounted contingent secured a position in the near passages while the scouts continued downwind. Perhaps more such breaks, and larger, occurred farther along their path. The main body had hung back in concealment while what was apparently a major procession of Gatherers made their way upwind through the center of the basin. Anyone who could afford to raise that much dust feared nothing, therefore they were to be avoided. It had taken some time after their trail had dispersed before the main zazumil pack could resume progress. They had only recently caught up to the chieftain’s group. The god signaled again, more insistently, it seemed. Instinctively, the chieftain sniffed the air. There was no doubt. Ad’laad’nib’goz was about to turn. The chieftain nodded. Such a god from the sky would know. The chieftain had witnessed its arrival personally during their previous foray into Mizbon. Fortune had greatly favored the timing of that acquisition or the locals would have it now. This one was worth its weight in lem, even without the mysterious expanse of fabric by which, apparently, the god had flown before landing, then had released it to drift downwind, out of reach. Unfortunate, also, that the stem the god had extended upward after landing had broken during the digging process they had used to obtain its services. The stem lay tied to the frame of the litter until such time as anyone devised a way to recompense for the damage. The god had not, apparently, held the mishap against them, aside from a trilled warning whenever one of its handlers, inadvertently or not, touched the marked areas lower on the sloped surface that framed the eyes. Further information might else be obtained. A few, quick paw signals directed the band to the far side of a complex intersection of paths. There, a passageway half under sand should prove defensible enough until the Glow turned again. The chieftain nodded deeply toward the attack mount’s co-occupant and gave the order to dig in. The well-dressed executive paused in the deepening twilight, one hand on the palm-print reader seamlessly integrated into the doorframe exterior of his late-model sports car. Being a connoisseur of such things, he noticed an ancient, battered jeep amid the menagerie of hybrids and pickup trucks, some rather battered themselves. It wasn’t really out of place, but somehow, he had a feeling he had seen it before. The younger executive half placed, half pushed a thick folder on top of his superior’s workload. His was not the job of a courier, but one could not take chances with material like this. “The problem with the sunlight?” The boss’s eyebrows twitched slightly. “It’s been solved.”