emotions and beguiling flashes of mischief made him seem almost boyish.
Beneath all that, though, buried also under his mood swings, his drinking, and his tormented dreams, she sensed a slumbering satisfaction with life that came from well-advanced years, not for everyone, but for some. He obviously wasn't happy now, yet for some reason she believed she picked up a deeper contentment, the kind it took a lifetime to form. Was she imagining it?
"Vyrl, what are you?" she murmured. Elderly, middle-aged, or young? Prince or farmer? Athlete or stagman? Drunkard or wise man? Or all of that? Brushing back his hair, she decided she would simply try to accept him for himself.
After a while she moved out from under his head and lay down beside him. Outside a quetzal called and another answered. Branches creaked in the wind. She could imagine the woods, ancient trees nodding together, their heads lifted high above the ground. If she were a bird, she could rise out of the forest and see it rolling in wave upon iridescent wave through the mountains, beneath the limitless violet plain of the sky.
Sword And Ballbow
Perturbations
A shudder racked Vyrl's body, waking Kamoj. Deep in his dreams, he made a strangled noise, his face clenched. She pushed up on her elbow and massaged his head until he calmed.
When he was resting well again, she went outside and stood watching the forest. Morning had passed, bringing them into early afternoon. Overhead an "engine" rumbled. She wondered if it knew Vyrl was here.
When she returned to the cave, she found him sitting up. Although fatigue still lined his face, he looked more rested.
"Is there anyone out there?" he asked.
"I heard an engine. I didn't see anyone, though." She sat cross-legged in front of him. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"What are you a prince of?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, really. I'm just a citizen of the Skolian Imperialate. It's about nine hundred worlds governed by an assembly of elected counselors."
"You are not a prince?"
"I've the title. But it doesn't mean much." He considered her. "Tell me what you know of Balumil's history."
She thought of the stories she had learned as a child. "Long ago the Current gave light and warmth to our houses. And voices." Like Morlin, she realized. Vyrl had given the Quartz Palace back its voice. "Sailors brought the people here on ships that flew above the sky."
"That fits."
His response surprised her. She would have expected him to smile at their fanciful tales. "How does it fit?"
He rubbed his neck, working out the kinks that came from sleeping on the ground. "The ancient Ruby Empire established this colony. That's why I know your language."
It didn't surprise her that their language had remained constant enough for him to understand. Her people never changed anything. Change brought upheaval, upheaval threatened revolution, and revolution was anathema.
But still, it had been a long time. "The sky sailors vanished five thousand years ago."
"That's when the Ruby Empire collapsed. Five thousand standard years ago."
"Standard years?" That sounded like the scroll in Jax's library.
"About the length of the year on Earth, or on the world Raylicon. Just a bit more than one of your short-years." He stretched his arms. "Originally we all came from Earth."
Earth. The word had an odd familiarity, in the same way as did the pupils of Vyrl's eyes. "What is Earth?"
Softly he said, "Home, Kamoj. For all of us. Green hills, blue sky, sweet fresh air."
His words evoked a sense of ancient mysteries, of mythical quetzals without scales flying in an eggshell blue sky. "If home is a place called Earth, why are we on Balumil?"
Dryly he said, "Many people would like the answer to that." He pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. "About six thousand years ago, around 4000 BC, an unknown race moved a population of people from Earth to the world we call Raylicon." Anticipating her next question, he said, "We don't know why. They
Beneath all that, though, buried also under his mood swings, his drinking, and his tormented dreams, she sensed a slumbering satisfaction with life that came from well-advanced years, not for everyone, but for some. He obviously wasn't happy now, yet for some reason she believed she picked up a deeper contentment, the kind it took a lifetime to form. Was she imagining it?
"Vyrl, what are you?" she murmured. Elderly, middle-aged, or young? Prince or farmer? Athlete or stagman? Drunkard or wise man? Or all of that? Brushing back his hair, she decided she would simply try to accept him for himself.
After a while she moved out from under his head and lay down beside him. Outside a quetzal called and another answered. Branches creaked in the wind. She could imagine the woods, ancient trees nodding together, their heads lifted high above the ground. If she were a bird, she could rise out of the forest and see it rolling in wave upon iridescent wave through the mountains, beneath the limitless violet plain of the sky.
Sword And Ballbow
Perturbations
A shudder racked Vyrl's body, waking Kamoj. Deep in his dreams, he made a strangled noise, his face clenched. She pushed up on her elbow and massaged his head until he calmed.
When he was resting well again, she went outside and stood watching the forest. Morning had passed, bringing them into early afternoon. Overhead an "engine" rumbled. She wondered if it knew Vyrl was here.
When she returned to the cave, she found him sitting up. Although fatigue still lined his face, he looked more rested.
"Is there anyone out there?" he asked.
"I heard an engine. I didn't see anyone, though." She sat cross-legged in front of him. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"What are you a prince of?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, really. I'm just a citizen of the Skolian Imperialate. It's about nine hundred worlds governed by an assembly of elected counselors."
"You are not a prince?"
"I've the title. But it doesn't mean much." He considered her. "Tell me what you know of Balumil's history."
She thought of the stories she had learned as a child. "Long ago the Current gave light and warmth to our houses. And voices." Like Morlin, she realized. Vyrl had given the Quartz Palace back its voice. "Sailors brought the people here on ships that flew above the sky."
"That fits."
His response surprised her. She would have expected him to smile at their fanciful tales. "How does it fit?"
He rubbed his neck, working out the kinks that came from sleeping on the ground. "The ancient Ruby Empire established this colony. That's why I know your language."
It didn't surprise her that their language had remained constant enough for him to understand. Her people never changed anything. Change brought upheaval, upheaval threatened revolution, and revolution was anathema.
But still, it had been a long time. "The sky sailors vanished five thousand years ago."
"That's when the Ruby Empire collapsed. Five thousand standard years ago."
"Standard years?" That sounded like the scroll in Jax's library.
"About the length of the year on Earth, or on the world Raylicon. Just a bit more than one of your short-years." He stretched his arms. "Originally we all came from Earth."
Earth. The word had an odd familiarity, in the same way as did the pupils of Vyrl's eyes. "What is Earth?"
Softly he said, "Home, Kamoj. For all of us. Green hills, blue sky, sweet fresh air."
His words evoked a sense of ancient mysteries, of mythical quetzals without scales flying in an eggshell blue sky. "If home is a place called Earth, why are we on Balumil?"
Dryly he said, "Many people would like the answer to that." He pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. "About six thousand years ago, around 4000 BC, an unknown race moved a population of people from Earth to the world we call Raylicon." Anticipating her next question, he said, "We don't know why. They
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