about them made sense.
What if the wafers were what Marcus first assumed: a record left by Sona, waiting only for the right device to read them?
Was he dismissing the Omâray technology heâd sought so long?
âThe Oud find these with bones, Omâray bones, in a cave behind the waterfall.â Marcus took his piece of turrif, turning it over and over in his hands as if deciding where to bite. âPeople tried to hide there, to protect what mattered to them. Your people. The Oud threw these away.â
Will you? That was the question behind the gentle voice.
âThey canât be near Aryl, near anyone whoâs pregnant,â Enris heard himself say. âWe canât take that risk.â
The Human nodded vigorously, eyes bright. âSafe here, if you want.â He wrinkled his nose. âSoon too safe. Extra security. â At their puzzled looks, he spread his hands. âDanger, people die. Doesnât matter. No budget for repulsionfields. No protection, us, from Tikitik or Oud. Problems our fault. My fault.â This, low and troubled. He looked up. âIf First confirms intact Hoveny find here, with possibility of activeinstallation, this small place will suddenly become more important than thousands of other Triad, other Hoveny sites. Understand? Go from lowest potential to highriskvalue. Suddenly we rate orbitalscanners and dedicatedpatrolruns. Protect things, not people. Always our way.â
âNot yours,â Aryl said firmly. âYou care.â
Marcus patted her hand, another familiarity they allowed the Human. Husni would be horrified.
They unloaded crates into the storage building.
Marcus was taking samples with him to another place, a place with decision makers who cared about things.
Enris realized heâd broken his turrif crisp into crumbs. âSay you were to trade these old things, these Hoveny artifacts, to someone,â he said lightly. âWhat could you get in return?â
Despite his easy tone, the question brought the Human half out of his seat. âNo! I not trade! Never!â
Not what heâd asked. He sensed Arylâs confusion . His dear Yena struggled with the concept of a mutually beneficial trade between two Omâray. In her view, an objectâs only worth was if someone needed it, and whomever needed it most should have it. Fine in the canopy, where everyoneâs life depended on the whole.
Heâd come from a different Clan and understood immediately. The Human had been offered something for the artifacts and refused. These old things, however useless to Omâray, had value to the Strangers. Value worth protecting.
Value that was dangerous.
Clang!
âDonât worry,â Marcus said quickly, as if relieved by the interruption. âOud outside. Itâs how they call me to the door.â
CLANG!
âIâm coming!â The Human grumbled something in his own language as he got up and went to the door. He didnât open it, consulting a small screen to one side. âTheir Speaker,â he announced.
âGood.â Aryl rose to join him, her grace making poor Marcus look clumsier than usual. Doubtless, she did the same to him, Enris thought. It didnât matter. All that mattered was that this superb Omâray had Chosen him.
He would keep her safe.
He didnât look at the crate of Glorious Dead.
âYou go,â Enris said, stretching as if lazy. âMarcus and I will finish the turrif.â Be careful.
A flash of warmth ; a trace of relief he pretended not to notice. Her mind grew focused on the task ahead. All I can do is try.
CLANG!
Aryl opened the door. âStop that,â she ordered impatiently. âIâm here!â
âGoodgoodgood . . .â
The door closed behind her.
Marcus hesitated, his hand on the control, and looked at Enris. âYou sure itâs all right to leave her with them? Alone?â
How could he be?
But one thing Enris did
1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas