Chapter XVI – Elegy for a Lost World

Tavian opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling.

That’s pleasant, he thought, musing on the fact that for the first time in a few mornings he wasn’t at all hungover. Really should cut down on those mornings.

He continued gazing at the ceiling a little longer, blinking the sleep from his eyes and taking long slow breaths. It was still mostly dark outside and the windows had fogged up, but he had some sense that the dawn couldn’t be too far away.

There was something so satisfying, he reflected, about being in a warm bed when just outside were freezing temperatures. Just that knowledge brought with it a sense of security and comfort that was quite unmatched. Even better if one could see snow falling from bed, but he figured Yengishahr was too dry for much snow to fall. He’d make do.

He rolled over onto his side. Mingxia’s hair was spread out on the pillow. She was lying on her back, the blankets rising and falling slowly and steadily with her breathing. She looked serene in a way Tavian didn’t remember seeing before in their admittedly brief acquaintance.

I guess it’s the serenity of freedom.

She stirred.

Upon opening her eyes, she immediately saw Tavian staring at her.

“Hi,” she said, with a smile. “You know, this is the second morning in a row I’ve woken to find you staring at me. Keep doing that and I might start to think you like me or something.”

Tavian gave a little laugh. “Keep sleeping in my bed and I might get my suspicions about you.”

She leant forward and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Well that definitely raised my suspicions,” said Tavian.

She wiggled over to him and threw an arm around him, placing her face just a few centimetres from his, one of her legs finding its way between his, her foot brushing his. He felt her naked skin against his own, her breasts pressing into his chest.

She kissed him again and he felt her tongue gently push its way into his own mouth. He responded in kind.

After a few moments she pulled back.

“Oh, did I feel something move?” she said, pointing down beneath the covers with one hand.

“Maybe…” said Tavian.

Discussion on this matter was cut short a moment later when Tavian’s tablet buzzed loudly on the bedside table. Groaning he rolled over to grab it.

Nova.

“Yes?” he said, allowing more than a little frustration to creep into his voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said Nova.

“Course not… what’s up?”

“You, ah… you seen the time there, my guy?”

Tavian held the tablet out at arm’s length and looked at its screen. He groaned. They were a long way north here. The sun rose very late. Later than Tavian was used to. “Oh…” he managed.

Behind him Mingxia had pushed herself up against him, her head peeping over his shoulder so that she was close to the tablet.

“Oh’s right,” said Nova. “We’ve gotta be moving in forty minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” said Tavian.

“And if you, ah, happen to see Mingxia, can you get her moving too. I haven’t been able to get hold of her,” said Nova.

“Hi, Nova!” Mingxia called out.

“Oh…” said Nova, in an unexpectedly quiet voice. “Hello… Mingxia. Hope that, um, you, ah, and Tavian have had a good morning… okay, bye.”

She hung up.

“I think you scared her,” said Tavian, rolling over to face Mingxia again.

“Sorry,” said Mingxia, her facial expression suggesting she may not actually be very sorry.

“We do need to get ready though,” said Tavian.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” said Mingxia.

She pushed away the covers and stood, stretching and yawning as she did so. Tavian enjoyed the sight from where he lay. She walked to the bathroom door and paused a moment.

“Oh, it’s fine,” said Tavian, “You have first shower.”

Mingxia half-turned. “First? Didn’t you hear her? We’re in a hurry. Only time for one shower.”

Tavian didn’t need to be asked twice. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and leapt from the bed, following her into the bathroom.

It was a grey dawn, but there was still no sign of snow.

Mu once again found herself walking across a flat tarmac, this time headed towards a waiting airship. Today the wind that blew across the dry steppe had a ferocity that far exceeded what they’d experienced yesterday. She came to a stop beside Ostara, just in front of the airship. Their pilot was waiting.

“Can we even fly in this wind?” she asked, yelling over the roaring gale.

The pilot, a young man with a thick moustache nodded. “They build them tough on Yarkan,” he said, patting the sides of the airship, and then, with a dangerous grin, added, “Wait, madam, until we reach the deep desert. The Starflow itself drives the air around the Black City. Then you will truly respect the winds of Yarkan.”

Great, thought Mu. Something to look forward to.

At least, though, she figured Karbaliq was likely to be warmer than Yengishahr, sitting far to the south in Yarkan’s subtropics, and at much lower elevation.

“We are all here, yes?” yelled the pilot.

“Everyone is accounted for,” Ostara yelled back.

“Then we shall embark!” declared the pilot, who Mu had decided had a keen sense of drama, judging by the extravagant gesture that accompanied this declaration.

They clambered on board and took seats.

“Everybody ready?”

“Ready,” replied Ostara.

“We go!” declared the pilot. The door sealed and the ship shuddered for a moment then lifted away from the tarmac. Mu felt the lurch of acceleration, and then they shot up into the grey skies of Yarkan.

She was sitting opposite the last arrivals at the airport – Tavian and Mingxia – who had delayed their departure. Observing them, Mu noticed there was definitely something different about their body language around each other. The thought made her vaguely uncomfortable. She happened to catch Tavian’s eyes and looked away, finding herself instead looking at Nova, who was sitting on the other side of Tavian. She had her arms crossed and a decidedly grumpy expression on her face. Nova also caught Mu’s gaze.

“You okay?” mouthed Mu.

Nova gave a slight sideways gesture of her head in the direction of Tavian and Mingxia. Her arms remained crossed, her grumpy expression fixed. She mouthed something back to Mu, but what exactly wasn’t clear. Mu attempted to convey that they’d talk later, although she wasn’t sure if Nova followed. After that Nova looked away. Mu found herself drumming her hand on her lap as she glanced around the interior of the ship, attempting not to make eye contact with anyone else.

Up ahead the pilot was speaking again. Now that they were inside it was much easier to hear, without the wind to talk over. The only other sound was a low whir of the engines.

“We will cross through the shields shortly,” he said. “Be aware: once we are outside, you may experience some strange things. It can be different for everyone, but you can be sure: we are safe on the ship.”

Safe on the ship.

She didn’t have to be told when they’d left the shield. She felt it almost immediately. In Yengishahr there had been a certain sense of stability. The Starflow was weak, but it felt normal enough, provided she didn’t attempt to peer into the future beyond the shields. But the moment they crossed out of the bubble generated by the ARCs, the turbulence and chaos were almost overwhelming. It reminded her in some ways of how she’d felt in the battle with the agents back on Shangxia, but this was far… larger… and it was heavy – oppressive even – like her skull was being squeezed in by the sheer roiling power of the Starflow around her.

She tried to calm herself. Only belatedly did she realise that she had been almost violently squeezing her own thighs, her skin only saved from her nails by the thick layers of her winter robes. Her breathing was fast and shallow, but she tried to slow it and take deeper breaths, closing her eyes.

Slowly some sense of normality returned. She opened her eyes. She saw troubled expressions on many of the others as well. Even Seraphina’s usually impassive face had the look of someone waging an internal battle.

Mu twisted in her seat, resting the side of her head against the window behind her. She gazed down at the surface, trying to focus on the few details that occasionally dotted the otherwise monotonous landscape of the high steppes – the occasional small lake, a furrow or rise, sometimes – though rarely – a building, or the ruins thereof.

“Are you alright?” asked Harry, who was sitting next to her.

“Fine,” said Mu, straightening up. “It’s just… when we crossed the shields… it was… did you feel it?”

“Maybe a little,” said Harry, his face giving just a hint of concern.

He’s not a Resonant. That’s why it hit me harder.

“I think I’ve just got to distract myself for a bit,” said Mu. “It’ll be alright once we get to Karbaliq.”

“Sure,” said Harry. “Do you want to talk?”

Mu considered a moment. “I think I might just try and read.”

“Whatever works for you,” said Harry.

As she pulled out her tablet, Mu noticed Tavian staring her way with an inscrutable expression.

She pulled up the book she had been reading last night: Religious and Spiritual Practices and Beliefs of Yarkan. She must have fallen asleep on the last page of a chapter. She backed up a little to refresh her memory, before finishing that chapter (“The Role of the Qamlar”). She tapped the screen to turn to the first page of the next: “Beliefs about Death”.

The pilot spoke from up front. “We will be flying over the Tengritağ Mountains shortly, if you are wanting to look out. After these mountains the steppe is no more. Then we are flying over the desert.”

Mu looked up from her book, glancing over her shoulder. The terrain had become far more undulating than the flat expanse of the steppe, and as she watched, it rose to towering and jagged peaks, covered in white, reaching toward them like great talons, trying to snatch them from the sky. And then, almost as soon as the mountains had appeared, they were gone. Instead of the dull brown-green of the steppe, the open rocky desert spread out below.

Mu looked back at her book.

The word for death among the people of Yarkan comes from the proto-Jarilic root meaning “to take flight”. This conveys much about the beliefs of the planet’s people, for it has long been said that ancestors leave the world of the living to once more be among the stars, where the great Clanships of old voyaged. This root can also be observed in the name given to the spirits who are thought to haunt the deep desert, particularly around major historical sites from the pre-Imperial age. In Modern Jaril these spirits are referred to as Učarmaz, which has a meaning akin to “those for whom flight is impossible”.

Mu glanced up again, not looking anywhere in particular.

Those for whom flight is impossible.

We are safe on the ship.

Even as she thought this, she felt the pressure return, the maelstrom gathering about her. And this time she heard the whispers, barely audible and unintelligible to her, but unmistakable. She closed her eyes once more, attempting deep breathing, but now the whir of the engines took on the character of some horn playing a funerary dirge. Despite her best efforts she felt her breath shuddering. The whispers grew louder, transforming into wailing that blended with the plaintive horns.

Crushing pain – like her skull was about to cave in.

A baby cried, unanswered.

She jerked forward in her seat, her eyes springing open, tears welling there.

“Mu! Mu!” said Harry.

She turned to look his way.

The pressure, the dirge, the voices subsided.

“I’m alright,” she said, raising a trembling hand to brush away the tears.

Harry’s expression was unconvinced.

She noticed everyone was now looking at her with similar expressions of concern.

“I’m alright,” she repeated, hearing how her own voice sounded so small and weak.

On the other side of the ship Seraphina raised two fingers to her lips, murmuring something Mu could not catch. She pointed them towards Mu, who immediately felt like a warm, comforting blanket had descended upon her. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She did her best to flash a reassuring smile to everyone, but didn’t quite trust herself to speak. Shakily she lifted up her book again, returning her eyes to it.

I’m alright.

At some point she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew there was a heavy jerk and she heard her tablet rattling on the floor. She looked around, trying to get a sense of what was happening.

“My friends, the desert is welcoming us!” announced the pilot. Outside the window everything had grown dark.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Is it night already?

The ship shook violently, just as Mu was bending down to grab her tablet. She almost fell out of her seat.

“Or maybe not so welcome, eh?” said the pilot. “I am afraid we will not be able to reach Karbaliq until this storm subsides. I will find a caravanserai as near as possible and land us there. We will stay tonight. Tomorrow, we go to the Black City.”

Sand. It’s sand out there.

The ship was shaking even more violently, though the pilot’s voice remained steady the whole time. Looking around at the others Mu saw various degrees of concern on their faces.

“This could get a little rough,” announced the pilot, as if it had been smooth sailing up until that point.

Mu felt the moment the descent began, clutching her tablet tightly now.

“Hold on. Not long.”

“Well, this is exciting!” announced Tavian, his bright expression seeming quite at odds with the situation.

“I am not into this!” said Nova, who had grabbed Seraphina’s upper arm with white knuckles.

“Ouch,” said Seraphina quietly, her monotone intact.

Nova didn’t seem to hear her.

Ostara and Kal were the picture of calm. Harry only slightly less so.

Mingxia, Mu noticed, was clinging tightly onto Tavian.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Nova was repeating, her eyes now closed.

There was a sound like creaking metal, bending metal.

Mu noticed her own hands were shaking. But this was preferable to whispers, to the pain, to the wailing. She looked from Tavian and Mingxia to Harry.

What would happen if I grabbed onto Harry?

What a strange thought.

Then there was a heavy thud and everything became much more still. Nova braved opening her eyes, releasing her grip on Seraphina.

“Ow,” said Seraphina again, giving her arm a slight shake.

Mingxia straightened up.

“Are we… landed?” Nova managed.

“Yes, yes, we have made it,” said the pilot. He got up from his seat and walked to where they all sat. “We have suits – for the sand,” he declared. He pressed some buttons on his tablet. At the back of the ship a door Mu had not previously noticed slid open, revealing what looked like space suits. “Everybody, put these on. I will lead you to the caravanserai. No worries about size, the suit will match you.”

They all set about suiting up. The pilot did a brief check on everyone. Satisfied, he opened the door. A wave of sand swept in and they hurriedly disembarked, the doors shutting behind them.

Outside was nothing but swirling sand.

Daughter of Ruin!

Mu’s eyes shot open. Ostara was looking at her with a concerned expression.

“Yarkan is not being kind to you,” she said.

Mu shook her head, taking a moment to get her bearings. She was lying in a bunk bed. Opposite her she could see Nova dressed in pyjamas, sitting on the top bunk, her legs hanging down, a look of concern on her face. Her hair was a wild and untamed mess. Ostara was as composed as ever in an elegant nightdress.

“Just dreams,” said Mu.

“You kept saying, ‘I am not him’,” said Nova.

Sitting up Mu insisted she was fine.

How many times have I insisted that?

It was one of those things that became less believable with each utterance.

“Just remember, if you need help – for anything – you need only ask,” said Ostara.

“Thank you.”

Ostara leant forward and wrapped her in a hug. As she withdrew again, she said, “I mean it. I want you to speak up.”

Mu nodded.

“How ‘bout breakfast to make you feel better?” asked Nova, sliding from the top bunk, landing clumsily before righting herself as if nothing had happened. She proceeded to rummage around in a bag, finding a pair of slippers.

“Yeah,” said Mu, “Breakfast would be good.”

“I think Sera and Mingxia must have already gone,” said Nova, sitting on the bottom bunk and sliding her feet into the slippers. Even as she spoke Mu heard her stomach rumble loudly.

Mu rose from her bed and ran her fingers through her hair, catching a few knots on the way. Finding her bag, she pulled a robe on over her pyjamas. She found some slippers of her own.

“Has the storm died down?” she asked Ostara.

“Still a little blowy, by the looks of it,” replied the other woman, “But based on what Mr Sutayoghul was saying last night, I think we should be able to make our way to Karbaliq today.”

“Great,” said Mu, feeling guilty as she tried to remember if Mr Sutayoghul was their pilot’s name.

“You ready?” asked Nova. “I’m hungry!”

“No one’s stopping you,” said Mu. “Go on ahead. I need to tidy myself up a bit.”

“I was being polite,” said Nova. “Besides, you look fine.”

Since getting out of bed Nova had made no effort to tame her own hair, not even bothering with the messy pony tail she usually tied it into. For a moment it looked as if she wasn’t wearing her goggles – the first time Mu had seen her without them – but it soon became apparent that they were merely concealed beneath the mess of hair.

So she does sleep with them, thought Mu.

“I can wait with Mu,” said Ostara. “You go on ahead, Nova.”

Nova shrugged. “I tried.”

She headed out.

Mu pointed to the bathroom. “I’m just going to brush my hair,” she said.

Ostara nodded. “Take your time.”

Mu walked into the bathroom that opened off the dormitory. She contemplated the shower, but decided against it for now. She was hungry herself, but on top of that she didn’t want to be by herself. The details of her dream had evaporated almost instantaneously, but it had left a profound feeling of unease that she couldn’t shake.

After battling with her hair and the brush for a little longer, she was satisfied and headed back out to where Ostara was waiting, gazing down at her tablet.

“Ready?”

Mu nodded.

Breakfast, it turned out was simple, but excellent: flaky flatbreads, apricots, pomegranates, boiled eggs, and some sort of dried yoghurt balls. The owner of the caravanserai was a cheerful person who seemed to enjoy fussing over her guests, ensuring they had plentiful tea as they ate. Mu noticed that cheerfulness seemed to be a widespread trait of the people of Yarkan.

They mustn’t hear what I hear…

By the time Mu and Ostara got there, their pilot (who was indeed Mr Sutayoghul) and Kal had already headed outside. Tavian and Mingxia had left the table to sit on some cushions arranged near the fire and drink their tea. Though suspicious of the fruits, Nova appeared to have become quite taken with the yoghurt balls.

“These are pretty good,” she said through a full mouth.

Mu took an apricot. It was delicious.

She hadn’t been there long when the door opened, Kal and Mr Sutayoghul entering. “Weather looks good. We should get moving. We’ve already lost a day,” Kal announced.

“Okay,” said Nova, grabbing a handful of yoghurt balls. “I guess we can go. I’m going to go get dressed.”

Mu finished her apricot, discarding the stone in the ceramic bowl provided for that purpose. She followed Nova back to the dorm to get dressed for the day ahead, Ostara coming with her.

After that, things went much more smoothly than the previous day. The sandstorm completely died down, revealing a hazy expanse of blue desert sky, intense sun gleaming out of it. The temperature still felt cool when the wind blew, but the sun did much more to take the bite out than it had back in Yengishahr. It was still early too; Mu got the sense it would warm up rapidly as the day wore on.

They departed and their pilot informed them that the flight time to Karbaliq would only be about an hour. Mu started reading, but soon found herself content instead to sit and gaze out the window at the passing desert. The rocky desert they had initially passed over yesterday was now replaced with an ocean of sand. From her reading Mu figured this was the Kavuktan Desert, or the “deep desert” in the common parlance of Yarkan. It was a huge depression in the landscape which may have once been home to a primordial sea, in a wetter era of Yarkan’s prehistory. Now it was uniquely arid. Yet it was on the far edge of the Kavuktan that they would find Karbaliq, the Black City, on an immense oasis.

Though she could still sense the profound strangeness of the Starflow out here, she did not feel the same pressure as she had on yesterday’s flight. Indeed, she had almost managed to relax into the journey when the pilot announced they were about to make their descent into Karbaliq.

“To the right is the Great Oasis. On its shores, the Black City!” announced Mr Sutayoghul.

Mu craned her head. At first all she could see was the rolling dunes, but then it swam into view. It took her a moment to adjust to what she was seeing, then it became clearer: trees. Yellow-leaved poplars were scattered in great abundance; beyond these she saw a large expanse of water. Beyond that, the landscape rose up precipitously, sand giving way to rock. And there stood immense buildings of black stone, all in varied stages of decay. These monoliths were of a scale quite unlike anything she’d seen since leaving Aixingo; though here the impression of their immensity was greatly bolstered by the uniformity of the black stone.

The pilot passed over the city before circling around to begin their descent. As they flew over the city, Mu could see the early signs of construction, as well as small clusters of tents, tiny motes of modernity, dwarfed by the ancient city.

As they turned, the descent began, and Mu’s mind suddenly flooded with thousands of whispering voices. The voices rose to a frenzied crescendo, then, as one, fell silent.

She knew immediately that they had entered the bubble of stability provided by the Qamlar.

Their landing today was far softer than yesterday amidst the tempest of sand.

“Welcome to the Black City,” announced Mr Sutayoghul.

After disembarking, they gave Mr Sutayoghul their thanks. A company representative met them, escorting them to their quarters. As they had been in the dormitories of the caravanserai, they were divided, the women sharing one large tent, the men another. The interiors of the tents were surprisingly luxurious, and the amenities were plentiful, with a separate tent also housing showers, shared among the company workers.

If the ruins had appeared large from the air, they gave a far greater impression still from the ground. The tent settlements sat in vast canyons, yet the walls of those canyons were chiselled and built up by humanity, not carved by the water and the wind. To walk among those ruins was to feel small.

Once they had left their luggage in their respective tents, they were summoned by Ostara to meet with the Senior Site Manager, a Yang Yuanyun. Mr Yang explained to them that he had already received orders from Director Yarghunqizi to ensure they were free to come and go as they pleased.

“Whatever you need, speak with myself or Miss Khasarqizi here, and we will ensure you have whatever it is you require,” said Mr Yang, indicating the quiet young woman standing at his side.

“That is very kind of you and Director Yarghunqizi,” said Ostara.

“If it would be useful to you, I could have Miss Khasarqizi give you a sight tour?”

“That would be most appreciated,” said Ostara.

Miss Khasarqizi was, as it turned out, not the finest tour guide they could have hoped for, acting like someone who had a strict budget for her use of words. The tour thus proved perfunctory at best, though it did give Mu a better sense of orientation with the maps she’d looked over earlier.

The footprint of the Black City was immense – the development site only being a very small part of it. On their tour, Miss Khasarqizi did point out the signs that showed the edges of the area under the protection of the Qamlar. Beyond these points, Karbaliq still loomed, its ancient abandoned streets, houses, temples, and palaces standing imposing and lifeless, even as the desert continued to dump ever greater volumes of sand on them.

“If you must enter such places,” said Miss Khasarqizi, “We can arrange a Qam to escort you.”

Gazing at those sand blasted places, even from within the protected area, Mu felt like she could hear the innumerable whispers of the dead. A shadow of her dream passed over her.

Daughter of Ruin.

I am not him.

Once this place was full of life.

Then one day he came.

Then it was not.

“Quite a place for a resort,” said Tavian, stopping at the entrance to the tent to remove his boots, pouring out the sandpit which had accumulated inside over the course of the day. They’d walked the length and breadth of the protected zone since they arrived, talking to workers, asking questions.

“There’s no place so bleak that no one wants to visit,” said Harry, following Tavian’s lead before they both entered the tent. “Some like the beach, some like the haunted ruins of extinct civilisations.”

“This Taghay guy is clearly banking on that,” said Tavian. “Seems like he’s confident.”

“It does seem that way,” said Harry.

Kal had reached the tent ahead of them, and had taken up a seat by the heater. There he sat, reading off the screen of his tablet.

“Wotcha readin’ there, Big Guy?” asked Harry.

“A history of the First Battle of Yarkan,” said Kal. “The Susanian and Jaril forces inflicted one of the very few defeats experienced by the White Horse Alabey during the First Banner War. It was probably the last time Aixingo was ever militarily defeated… on that scale at least…”

Kal paused, not looking at either of them.

“Back in the day, the boys and I fought Xerxes on planet after planet, always losing… always hopeful that next time was going to be the one – the one where we turned the tide.”

Neither Tavian nor Harry spoke.

“Of course, we never did. These days a new crop of hopeful young men is still fighting Xerxes on a new crop of worlds, still losing. It’ll end one day – when there are no more worlds for Xerxes to conquer… no more League. But imagine instead: those Jaril and Susanian soldiers, losing world after world, then right here, that day finally came. The day they turned – stemmed at least – the tide. How happy they must have been.”

“I’m sure it must have been a great moment for them,” said Harry.

Kal finally turned their way. “I like that for them, those poor bastards. They must have had that moment… when the broken remnants of the Alabey fleet withdrew. The rush of victory – I’ve always wondered what that felt like. In that moment they would have had no idea what was coming.”

“Hey,” said Tavian. “At least they had their moment.”

“We never got ours,” said Kal. “But maybe that’s all it would have been, anyway: a moment. Maybe we were just toy soldiers, playing out a game, and if we’d ever defeated the Host, then the boss would have come. Because that’s the one thing we never faced: Xerxes himself. I think maybe if it ever did come to that, it might have gone down a lot like it did here. Yarhudan’s army was defeated and then he just came back, Theophany in hand, and swept it all aside. That first victory meant nothing in the end for the Jaril. Now all that’s left are these lifeless ruins.”

Harry dropped into a seat next to Kal. “You been drinking without us there, buddy? You’re sounding a bit morbid.”

Kal shook his head. “Just been remembering some things.”

“Yeah,” said Tavian, nodding slowly. “This place does have that effect.”

Harry clapped his hands together. “Well, uplifting as this is. How’d we all feel about today? Anything that looks like a lead?”

“Not a thing,” said Tavian, sitting in the chair on the other side of Kal.

“They’re lying to us,” said Kal.

“Huh?” said Harry.

“That Manager fellow, that little mousey woman. Just about everyone else we spoke to. And if they’re not lying, they’re certainly not being up front with the facts,” said Kal.

“Aren’t they under Ulday’s orders to cooperate?” asked Harry.

“Ulday isn’t the big boss,” said Kal. “I guarantee the moment she told them we were coming; they were talking to this Taghay. He runs the company.”

“What are you suggesting? Are you saying he’s actually trying to cover up who the real murderer was?” said Harry.

“No, Kal’s right,” said Tavian. “Think about it. Ulday said she couldn’t believe how quick Taghay was to accept that Toghrul was guilty. If it came as a big shock to him, that his brother was suspected of murder, he’d be asking questions… no one’s just gonna accept that at face value. But that’s what Ulday says he did. The simplest explanation as I see it is that he knew something in advance. Most likely: Toghrul is being framed.”

“That’s a pretty big accusation,” said Harry.

“Got a better explanation?” said Kal.

“No. But regardless, all this is a hunch. Might be a good one. Might explain what we know so far… but it’s still just a hunch. That means we’ve gotta work out what would prove it, and then find that evidence,” said Harry.

“Of course, we’re assuming here that this Ulduz lady is still gonna pay up,” said Tavian. “She might not be too happy if the evidence that gets one of her brothers off the murder charges implicates the other – at bare minimum – of a cover-up.”

“True,” Harry conceded. “But I’m pretty sure Ostara’s already got the first five mil in hand. If it’s looking like Ulduz ain’t gonna pay up, well then: we just fuck off outta here. Five mil’s just fine for a week’s work. Ten mil would be better, but five mil will do just fine.”

Tavian gave a slightly bitter laugh. “Just to be clear: if it goes down like that, then we’re reneging on a deal with Ulduz and taking her money, having just accused the Planetary Governor’s mate – her brother – of covering up a murder. Some people might try and stop us from flying the coop.”

“Well, if it does play out that way – and I’m not actually predicting it will – but if it does – then we’ve pissed off a few locals. Maybe Taghay and Ulduz’s corporate security comes after us, maybe the Governor does… but hey, nothing new there.”

“And it went seamlessly last time,” said Tavian.

“It would have if we hadn’t gone back to get Mingxia,” said Harry, “And even then, that would have gone alright if those Resonance Bureau agents hadn’t come for Mu. But there aren’t going to be any Resonance Bureau agents this time round, and we’re not relying on anyone else – we’ve got the Amrita’s lander right here. No Orbital Ring between us. Just straight back to Apollo, and off we go.”

Tavian conceded that the absence of a threat like the Resonance Bureau agents would make things a lot easier if they had to get out fast.

“You got the armour here, Kal?” he asked, looking Kal’s way.

“Always ready to suit up,” said Kal in a voice that made Tavian think it might just be Kal’s preferred outcome. It almost seemed as if the thought of donning the power armour alone made some of his earlier melancholy fade.

“There we have it,” said Harry. “We are ready for whatever happens.”

“Then we push ahead with finding evidence of a cover up,” said Tavian.

“We’ll let the girls know what’s up tomorrow,” said Harry, yawning. “I’m for bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Tavian.

“I’m gonna keep reading a little longer,” said Kal.

Harry looked like he was about to say something, judging by the grin on his face, but Tavian watched as it faded and he held back. “Good night, Big Guy,” he said instead.

Tavian awoke to the sound of distant music. At first, he thought he’d dreamt it, but when he listened in, he heard it distinctly.

It was dark now – even Kal had gone to bed. There was little noise, but for the unrelenting wind. But over the wind came that sound: soft music, mournful. Something about it compelled Tavian. He kicked back the covers on his bed. He rose to his feet, finding some long pants and a coat to throw on. Careful not to make a sound, he headed for the entrance, where he pulled on his boots.

Stepping out into the night, he felt the chill carried on the desert wind. But it was not like in Yengishahr. It was bearable. The stars above gleamed with an intensity usually reserved for deep space. The behemoths of the Black City loomed, silhouetted against that glittering firmament; more an absence of stars, rather than the presence of anything of this world.

The music was clear.

He walked toward it.

The poplars were sparse and there was little undergrowth. There was little to obstruct his path as he walked directly towards the sound’s source, his way lit only by the stars above. Still, he proceeded cautiously, wary of plunging into the waters of the oasis lake in the dark. His footfalls fell quietly, disturbing only the coarse sand.

He reached the shore. The water lapped upon it, rippling beneath the wind. He saw the band playing upon a rocky outcrop.

They didn’t react to his presence as he came closer, each man playing his instrument with a love and devotion Tavian knew well; each man immersed deep in that sorrowful melody. Tavian didn’t disturb them.

Instead, he simply stood there; listening, feeling.

It was only right that he did so.

After all, they were playing for him from so far away. From across the many centuries.

Tavian now noticed that he wasn’t the only one in the audience – many, many figures now stood, silent as he was, along the lake shore, among the poplars – standing on feet that left no footprints, disturbing not even the coarse sand. Yet he knew the musicians appreciated him especially. Perhaps they were never able to take flight because they had so long yearned that someone would come with the right sort of ears – ears that could hear their elegy for a lost world.

Perhaps if someone remembered some small thing about you – just one person in this vast Cosmos – then you were not truly dead. Your world was not truly dead.

So Tavian stood in the cold desert night, and listened to their music, an anguished echo of ancient grief.

They spoke no words, but he heard them.

Remember us.

So he did.