Quintessence Sky by David Walton

pounded into the ground, the threads stretched
to cover the distance like crisscrossing beams of light. Since the
beams were formed from the essence of living beetlewood, manticores
couldn't cross it. Humans, on the other hand, could walk through
without even noticing it was there. It was much easier to build
than a physical wall was, and much more effective. It couldn't be
climbed.
    The manticores tested it regularly. The reds
remained on friendly terms with the colonists, but many of the
other tribes, and especially the grays, wanted nothing more than to
see them dead. Every few days, a troop of manticores would try to
scale it or break through. They hurled tree trunks at it, drove
poles into the ground and scaled the poles to jump over the
barrier, and tried to dig underneath. Sentries inside the barrier
walked around it, guarding it night and day with matchlocks, the
bullets dipped in beetlewood wax so they would pierce manticore
flesh. Marcheford had strictly banned the sale or trade of
matchlocks and ammunition to the manticores, even their allies. It
was impossible to prevent the occasional weapon from falling into
their hands, but the rule had prevented any significant manticore
armament.
    So far, the barrier had held. Though Matthew
had to admit, they still had only a poor idea of why it worked. By
wrapping themselves in a mesh of quintessence threads, they could
duplicate most of the manticore's miracles, even walking through
solid stone. And yet humans could pass through the barrier, and
manticores could not. What was different? Were the manticores
actually made of quintessence in some intrinsic, atomistic way? Or
perhaps the difference was the quintessence pearl: the tiny
pinprick of quintessence that all Horizon creatures had hidden in
their bodies, allowing them to use the power naturally.
    "You have news of my daughter?" he said.
Parris spoke English, which most of the reds understood, though
speaking it was difficult for them.
    The manticores answered in their own
language, accompanying the sounds with sinuous movements of their
tails. "She was taken by Rinchirith and his clan to be judged."
    Matthew understood the words, mostly, but he
still looked to his father for the translation. Since his father
had lived among them for so long, he knew the language better than
anyone, with the possible exception of Catherine. But his father
said simply, "Rinchirith has her."
    "Who is that?" Parris said.
    "He's a gray, a human-hater. He blames us for
everything bad that's ever happened to his tribe."
    A lot of it probably true, Matthew thought.
Human arrival on Horizon had hardly been good for the manticores.
Besides nearly sending the whole island over the Edge, they had
disrupted the balance of politics among the tribes, causing all
manner of problems.
    "We insist on being present for her trial,"
his father said formally, in the manticores' own tongue, using his
hands and fingers to mimic the movement of their tails.
    "It is not the gray tribe, nor the council of
tribes, that accuses her," the manticore answered. "Rinchirith
blames her for the death of his brothers, and many who mourn the
dead follow him."
    "What will he do to her?"
    "He will let the earth judge her for her
crimes."
    Matthew didn't know what they were talking
about, but it didn't sound good. "What does he mean, 'let the earth
judge her'?" he said.
    "I've heard them speak of it before," his
father said. "It's a response to terrible offenses, for crimes that
harm the whole tribe. The offender is brought high into the
mountains and dropped into a chasm they call Judgment Gorge."
    "They're going to throw her down a cave
shaft?" The mountains lay farther away than any human had yet
explored. Even if she survived the fall, they would have no hope of
finding her without manticore help.
    "They believe the Earth itself will determine
guilt or innocence."
    "What, by smashing her body against the
rocks?"
    Matthew turned to the manticores and did his
best to speak