*****Audio File***** "Chapter 32 - Performance - Audio File" Special Notes: I made some modifications to the audio file to make it easier to follow during the transitions. [The White Raven, Chapter 32, Performance] [Eagle Cliffs, House Eagle, Planet Darai] Raen jumped behind the shed, dropped to his knees and crawled through the alley between the two buildings. The side door to the Willow General Store opened and Vas stuck his head out. “In here, hurry,” whispers Vas. Raen scrambled through the door and Vas shut and locked it behind them. Cala was sitting on a table poking around inside a box of newly arrived merchandise. Raen had granted House Willow, the mega-retail outlet chain, limited rights to open a store, provided they stocked the store appropriately for a frontier town. Eagle Mercantile was across the street, House Willow wanted exclusive rights but Raen had said no - competition was better for a healthy economy. “Where’s Kata?” asked Rain. It was unusual to see the two acolytus ever separated by more than a few feet. “She hasn’t come to her senses yet,” replies Cala. “She’s still serving his mighty highness, the great Dartarion.” “I would have thought you would be with Salaeon,” says Raen. “The older boys chased me away, but that’s okay. I just want to see the performances, not peel apples and empty their chamber pots.” “And who are you hiding from?” Raen asks Vas. “The interpretive dancers,” replies Vas taking a pocket knife from Cala and dropping it back in the box of merchandise. Cala sticks his tongue out at Vas and starts looking through a new box. “They want me to be the guest dancer.” “I would pay money to see that,” says Raen. Vas scoops Cala up to carry him away from the temptation of the boxes full of goodies. Cala resists playfully and the two wrestle for ownership of the box - Vas wins and deposits Cala on an empty chair. “I suppose you’re hiding from Lady Swan?” says Vas. “She’s relentless,” says Raen. “I swear it’s like she’s never dealt with a Master Raven before, does she think I’m so naive?” “It’s not that,” replies Vas. “She looks at you and sees a Hawk, she’s used to being able to manipulate them.” Raen shakes his head and pulls the abandoned box of merchandise closer to have a peek inside. “Her attempts at manipulation are amateurish compared to Raven standards,” says Raen. “Use that,” suggests Vas. “Get her to assign us a music teacher for the hatchlings.” “She’s trying to get me involved with the Grackle negotiations,” says Raen. “You don’t want a say in the Vid-programming schedule?” asks Vas. “Naw, it’s their Vid-broadcasting station,” replies Raen. “I couldn’t care less what they broadcast, I know where the off button is if I don’t like what the hatchlings are watching.” Cala’s eyes light up at the mention of the Vid-broadcasting schedule. “Did you check to make sure Super Hawk is going to be on?” “Yes I did. They are going to start the series at the beginning during the week and new episodes on Friday nights,” replies Raen. “They’re also going to broadcast Hawk Girl, and a new show called The Red Sparrow.” “Blah, Hawk Girl is lame,” says Cala, getting up and rushing to the door. “I’m going to go tell Kata the good news about Super Hawk.” Cala unlocks the door and rushes outside. “Don’t forget, the ballet performance is this afternoon and the movie premiere is tonight,” Vas shouts after the boy. “I need to be going to,” Vas tells Raen and peeks outside to make sure none of the interpretive dancers are waiting in ambush. Raen shuts and locks the door, and then turns back to the box of merchandise. Most of the stuff is just basic trinkets, but it is amazing how important a fork becomes when you don’t have one. Raen settles on a few items, and the pocket knife Cala was looking at. The boy’s hatching day is coming up, the knife would make a good present. Raen heads up front to where the shopkeeper is and pays the man for the merchandise. Raen notices the man was working on a sign that reads ‘Employee Entrance Only’. The man obviously isn’t used to his customers using the back door. “That sign won’t do you much good,” says Raen. “Everyone is just going to see it as a challenge and start coming through the windows.” Raen steps out on the porch and finds Moeth in the middle of the street talking with a woman, it takes Raen a moment for his brain to register who Moeth was talking to, she was so out of place being here. “Mother?” shouts Raen, leaping off the porch of the General Store and running to the heavy-set woman. Raen wraps his arms around the woman, their adopted mother, the Seamstress. “What are you doing here?” asks Raen, and then loses his grin at the angry set of Moeth’s eyes. “What happened?” The woman's eyes tear up and she holds out two picture frames with the photographs of her deceased mate and son. “This is all I had time to save.” “Ravens burned her shop down in the middle of the night,” says Moeth, angrily. “I escaped through the bolt-hole you built in the closet,” says the Seamstress, beginning to cry. Raen holds the woman, the anger welling up inside him. “I am so sorry, this is our fault, they were trying to get back at us.” “No, dear,” cries the Seamstress. “You two are the greatest joy in my life, the only joy I have left. I’m sorry to burden you, but I had no place else to go.” “You’re with family now, Mother,” says Raen. “And you are not a burden.” “Goddess knows you’ve saved us enough times, Mother,” says Moeth. “What will I do, without my shop I’m useless,” sobs the Seamstress. “Oh, Mother, no,” says Moeth. “No, she’s right,” says Raen. “Everyone in Eagle Province must be gainfully employed, this situation is unacceptable.” Moeth turns on Raen with an expression that makes it clear she thinks he has lost his mind, but Raen holds his hand up and calls to a hatchling coming out of the Eagle Mercantile with a fist full of penny candy. “You, boy, come here,” shouts Raen. The hatchlings eyes widen and he runs over. “My Tarlock said I could have candy today, I swear.” “Turn around, boy,” says Raen, making a little twirling motion with his hand. The boy slowly turns around suspiciously, still thinking he was in trouble. “Oh my,” gasps the Seamstress. “Moeth, dear, haven’t I taught you better than this, how could you let this child run around with his backside hanging out?” The boy tried twisting around to look at the hole in his breeches. “We have hundreds of hatchlings in the same state of disrepair,” says Raen. “I’m afraid Moeth has been negligent in her duties as the House Eagle Mother, it’s a terrible scandal really.” Moeth looked back and forth with a bewildered expression at Raen and the Seamstress, then her eyes narrowed as she realized she was being set up. “Well, first thing is first,” says Raen. “I can’t just have homeless people running up and down the street, so I’ll have to assign you to that empty building.” Raen points at one of the commercial buildings that was just finished yesterday. “Of course, there will be rent, and you’ll require food, the whole thing is just a terrible burden on the House. You’ll just have to use whatever talents you have… oh, but you have no money.” Raen sighs. “I guess I’ll just have to give you a line of credit, you can get whatever supplies you need from the Eagle Mercantile, but I expect to be paid back.” The Seamstress grabs Raen in a big hug and squeezes tight. “You are the best son a mother could ever have,” whispers the Seamstress, then turns to Moeth. “And you, we will have a long talk about your duties as the House Mother, dear.” The Seamstress grabs the confused hatchling by the hand and drags him towards the Mercantile in search of a needle and thread. “You’re getting good at governing,” says Moeth. “Now what are we going to do about the Ravens?” “I’ll send Vas and Peli,” says Raen. “We have to set an example that such attacks won’t be tolerated.” “I was starting to worry you were losing your stomach for blood,” says Moeth. “They attacked an innocent woman, I’m taking the leash off our best killers.” Moeth shakes her head. “No, think this through.” Raen can see it in her eyes, he’s always known the truth and lived in denial. Vas and Peli weren’t the most vicious killers in the Moeth Alliance - Moeth was. “When do you want to leave?” asks Raen. “Lady Raven ordered the hit, it was personal against me,” replies Moeth. “I’m going to kill her, alone - you’re staying here.” “We stay together,” argues Raen, and takes Moeth into his arms and wraps his wings around her. “Not this time,” says Moeth. “If I don’t come back, House Eagle will go on, but without you, all of this will collapse.” “Then let’s just forget it,” says Raen. “She’ll keep going after our friends, and she won’t stop there,” says Moeth. “I defied her, she isn’t going to ever let this go.” “You’re going no matter what I say.” Raen pulled his wings tighter around Moeth and kissed her, surprising Moeth a little. Raen wasn’t known for being overly affectionate, especially in public. “The hatchlings are watching,” whispers Moeth. Raen drops his wings so he can see the hatchlings that were staring from the walkway. “Don’t all of you have something to do?” shouts Raen. The hatchlings scatter, giggling and laughing. ***** [The Saddle Hills, Struthio Desert, Planet Darai] Caedon rides back down from the hills at a gallop and reigns in next to Willet and the Trail Boss. “There’s a little valley between the two highest hills, just there off to the north,” says Caedon, pointing back at the hills he had gone ahead of the herd to scout out. “There’s plenty of scrub trees, we can block the valley off so the herd won’t stampede.” “They won’t try to stampede the herd,” says the Trail Boss. “Too hard to gather them all up again.” Willet signals Tear to begin moving the herd north. Tear had taken Rip’s place at the front of the herd. The cattle, already used to Rip, had taken to Tear and followed docilely into the hills. Vegetation became more abundant deeper in the hills and crossed a shallow creek. During the rainy season, the creek would likely swell to a river and the hills would bloom with desert poppies. Sander rides up from the rear of the herd, his horse agitated from mixed signals Sander was giving off and reared a few times before coming to pace with Willet. “I saw another Dart ship on the horizon,” says Sander. “That’s two so far,” says Willet, nodding. “Boss doesn’t think they’ll want to spook the herd so they’re going to land somewhere at the foot of the hills and walk in.” “Probably think they’ll kill us and take our horses,” says Sander. “Avocet and I are going to jump off here and head back down the hill on foot. We’ll let the rustlers get past us and try to circle back and see if we can take their Darts.” Willet reigns his horse around and surveys the desert. The rustlers won’t want to walk far, so they will land close. The floor of the desert rises gently to the hills in the center and north with scrub brush starting half-way. They would be able to see in almost every direction, but the southern hills were craggy boulders rising above the slope of the center hills. “I would land behind those low hills to the south,” says Willet. “That’s our blind side, once we’re in the higher hills we won’t be able to see them approaching.” “They’ll come at you tonight,” says Sander. “If we can manage to steal two of their Darts we’ll hide them on the far side of the hills to use as an escape if this goes bad.” Sander thunders off to get Avocet. They will leave the horses with Kit at the wagon. The wagon is trailing behind the herd for the climb into the hills. Kit wraps a bit of dried meat up in a piece of cloth and shoves it into a bag, refills the water flasks, and hands the provisions to Sander. The rustlers are likely to come tonight, but if they don’t, Sander and Avocet might find themselves having to wait at their ambush site through the next day. Teal has the hardest job riding at the rear of the herd collecting strays and keeping the cattle moving. Five-hundred cattle had grown easy to wrangle, but now with the addition of over two-hundred thousand head the task had grown to nearly impossible proportions. The sun was setting when the last of the cattle was driven into the valley between the summit of the two largest hills. They erected hasty barricades to keep the cattle in place, and Kit circled the wagon around the herd for safety, away from where the rustlers would attack. “Kit, pass out the rifles and ammo,” orders the Trail Boss. “We can take positions on the rocks.” “Ravens don’t use rifles,” replies Willet. “They get in the way of our ability to move silently. Let’s go ahead and put the rifles at fall-back positions on the rocks. We’ll spend the night out in the bush picking the rustlers off one at a time, then pull back in the morning.” “You’ll only get to do that the first night,” says the Trail Boss. “They gonna figure out real quick you’re Ravens and bunker down for the nights, and then attack at dawn.” “Tear, you and Kit stay with the Boss,” says Willet. “I think they’ll bring gunships on the second or third day, we’ll need bunkers.” “I’m guessing the bedrock is only three feet down, but I’ll have something ready,” says Tear. “What the blazes!” shouts the Trail Boss, stumbling back. Teal had grabbed the Trail Boss and kissed him before he knew what she was going to do. Willet grinned, knowing Teal was passing the nano-virus to the Trail Boss. He would have a better chance of survival now if he was shot, but they had also learned over the years it was better to not tell anyone what they were doing with the kisses. Unfortunately, the nano-virus hadn’t worked on Rip or Tear, the virus wasn’t made for Demonians. “It’s just a tradition we started a long time ago before a battle,” says Willet. “Well, it’s a damned odd tradition,” complains the Trail Boss. ***** [Somewhere under the Sturthio Desert, Planet Darai] Rip opened his eyes, it was dark and he was lying on something hard and cold. He shivered in the cool air and fought to focus on his surroundings. Someone was wiping a cold wet cloth across his chest, his eyes started to focus and he raised a hand to the person. The person took his hand and gently pushed it back down. Rip’s eyes focused, it was one of the Demonians that wasn’t a Demonian. “Where am I?” asked Rip. “Chi nai gahae,” replied the strange person, and patted Rip on the chest reassuringly. The language woke another genetic memory deep in Rip, two genetic memories in such a short period was rare. Rip recognized the words as an ancient Demonian language not spoken in a half-million years. But genetic memories required special training to be used, and Rip didn’t have that training. He recognized the language, but without the context he couldn’t understand what the person had said. Rip lifted his hand again and tapped his chest. “My name is Rip.” The person tapped their own chest and said, “Deaemi.” “Your name is Deaemi?” asked Rip, trying to sit up. The strange Demonian looking person put the wet rag aside and helped Rip sit up, then tapped it’s chest again and said, “Deaemi,” then tapping Rip’s chest and repeated, “Deaemi.” “No, I’m a Demonian,” replied Rip. “Deaemi,” insisted the person, tapping it’s chest, and then tapping Rip’s chest again. “Okay, you’re a Deaemi,” says Rip. The word was familiar but Rip couldn’t place where he had heard it before. The Deaemi handed a drinking jar to Rip, he didn’t want anymore water, but to be polite he sipped at it and was surprised to discover it was the cactus juice Ring had showed them. Rip finished the jar of liquid in a single gulp and set the jar aside. Rip’s eyes had become used to the dim light, he was in a cave, but how deep underground was a mystery. Another of the Deaemi arrived, perhaps a male, and stood over Rip speaking in the strange language. Rip didn’t understand and the male turned to the first Deaemi. Rip was pretty sure the first Deaemi was a female, the larger male said something the female didn’t agree with. The two argued for a moment and then the female knelt and helped Rip to his feet. “Sul auk,” says the male Deaemi. Rip thought it sounded much like an order to follow. The female Deaemi pulled gently on Rips arm and they followed. The floor of the cave was remarkably smooth and had a gentle decline as they moved further underground. Rip estimated they only went another hundred feet deeper from where they had started and then the cave remained at that depth. But, how far down had they been at the point they started? The male Deaemi they followed had five of the curved Kylaen hanging from a belt at his waist. Rip studied him closely, if it weren’t for the lack of tail and horns, and smaller size, the Deaemi could have easily passed for a Demonian. The Deaemi looked much like the pre-historic Demonians Rip had seen pictures of. Demonians hadn’t started with a tail and horns, that was a survival trait evolution had given them. The pre-historic Demonians were a different species, but not by much, they… “Oh, ancestors,” thought Rip remembering now. Deaemi was the previous evolutionary species of Demonians… how had he forgotten? Well, he wasn’t that interested in history, everyone had a subject they glazed over in school. The early Demonians were ill suited for survival, being nearly wiped out by the Deaemi and predators. Demonians, as a species, had been pushed back to the southern most continent. When they emerged again half a million years later, evolution had given them a tail and horns. The Demonians ability to first gore its prey, hold it immobile with powerful arms, and kill with the barbed end of the tail had propelled the Demonians to the top of the food chain. The Deaemi had either been absorbed into the population or disappeared completely. Every dominant species on every world had a similar story. Rip continued to follow the male Deaemi through the tunnels. There were branches in the tunnel that went to a lower level, but they continued along this course until the tunnel began a gentle incline upward. The floor became rough and the walls had the feel of a tunnel made a very long time ago. Some dim sunlight was coming from somewhere above, but this cave was still too dark to see well. The male Deaemi stopped and turned to face Rip. “Deaemi,” says the male tapping his chest. “Demonian,” says Rip tapping his own chest. The male Deaemi shook his head and tapped Rip on the chest, “Deaemi.” Rip shook his head. The male Deaemi held up a device and turned it on. Rip’s eyes rebelled for a moment at the sudden light, and had to chuckle at himself for assuming… what? Barbarians, tribal Aborigines? They had technology, just how much and how often they used it was the question. The male Deaemi pointed the flashlight at the cave wall, illuminating a series of petroglyphs on the rock face. Rip faced the wall and studied the petroglyphs, they were circles in a very distinctive layout of a solar system - twelve planets circling a sun. This was the same number of planets as the Demonian system, there was no mistaking it for the Daraian system, the Darai system had ten planets. The male Deaemi pointed at the second planet and said, “Deaemia.” Demonia was also the second planet in the Demonian solar system. These people shouldn’t be able to know how many planets were in any solar system other than the Daraian system, unless they were hiding a space-platformed telescope in orbit. The male Deaemi motioned for Rip to follow and they took several steps to the right to a new petroglyph. A chill ran up Rip’s back as he stared at this drawing, it was unmistakably a Raven flying away from the solar system to the left. In each of the Raven’s talons was a humanoid being, one had wings, and the other cloven hooves. The Deaemi motioned for Rip to keep following, and a few steps more to the right was another petroglyph of a solar system - ten planets, the same as the Daraian system. The male Daemi pointed at the third planet and said, “Darai.” Then he tapped his chest, and then Rip’s chest, and said, “Deaemi.” Rip stared at the petroglyph's, if the story they told was true, the Daraians were from Demonia, and the Goddess had brought the pre-historic Darians and Deaemi here. But, these Deaemi had never had the same vicious predators to contend with as on Demonia. They had never evolved horns and a tail. Lord Struthio’s great-grandfather had settled the Struthio continent, nobody else had ever wanted it. The island continent was hot, hostile, and had been a poor place for early Daraians to try and live. Daraians migrated north and settled on the much larger northern continent that nearly wrapped around the planet. These Daemi had been here on Struthio since the dawn of time, and nobody had known.