In an earlier time, some of the adults certainly would have offered to bind themselves into lifetime slavery to individuals who could help their children, but that was a practice that had been out of favor for at least two hundred years. Most teachers said accepting such a promise came very close to actual greed. Looking on this sight, T’sha was grateful.
But what sort of promises would T’gai be able to obtain for his people? They were good engineers, but if too many of them had to be indentured away to serve other cities, they would never be able to resurrect their village. They would become permanently homeless, scrabbling for their right to stay wherever they could find space, maybe permanently deprived of their votes.
“I’ve sent word of our situation to the High Law Meet.” D’seun dropped into T’sha’s line of sight.
T’sha shook her wings. “There isn’t much to report yet.”
“Not much to report!” D’seun bobbed up and down as if the sheer force of his exclamation rocked him. “Gaith is dead and decaying in front of our eyes! We have to spread the word!”
“Until we have a cause, that will do nothing but raise a panic.” T’sha stopped. “Which is the idea, isn’t it?” she murmured. “If the Law Meet panics, they will approve your candidate world without debate, won’t they?”
“How can you even be thinking of debate?” demanded D’seun. “Surely this shows us there is no more time. We must make New Home ours or we will all die!”
A dozen different thoughts, realizations, and responses rippled through T’sha. But all she said was, “You and my engineers have the situation under care. I must return to Ca’aed to make sure the latitude quarantines are coordinated. May I borrow your kite?”
It was not a request he could easily refuse. “I will ask for a promise against this.”
“A proportionate one, I’m certain.”
T’sha found the required wind and flew back to the place where D’seun’s kite waited. She gave it orders with the most urgent modifiers. The kite unfurled its wings without hesitation. Its engines sang as the air forced through them. T’sha flattened herself against the perches, wishing the team had brought a dirigible instead. But no need had been seen, no emergency anticipated. Certainly nothing like this.
The memories of the gray, bubbling growths coating Gaith’s sails and the black ashlike substance clinging to its walls flew round and round inside T’sha’s mind and she could not banish them.
D’seun had been a little right. This was new and this was deadly. The High Law Meet did have to be told. But told what? Told how? That was the next question.
The kite chattered in command language, sending the message on ahead that they were on an emergency run and traffic should clear the gates. Everything had some task to keep them busy, but not T’sha. All she could do was hang on until they reached the walls of Ca’aed.
The kite kept to the clearest routes. T’sha saw dirigibles and other kites in the distance, but did not ask any to be hailed. Even further away she saw the sails and walls of the Ca’aed’s wake-villages. The villages saw her as well, and their voices began to pour through her headset.
“I’ve heard the message of Gaith. My speakers are on the alert. All precautions are being taken.” This was T’aide, a young and confident village, strong in its faith of its people. “Good luck, Ambassador.”
“Message received from Gaith. The diagnostics are roused.” P’teri, an ancient village that had spread its boundaries so far there was talk of it growing into its own city. P’teri was cautious and content, though, and had so far been unwilling to agree to the expansion. “Good luck, Ambassador.”
Terse, protective T’zem came through next. “My people are well. I will keep them so. Look to Ca’aed, Ambassador.”
I do. You may be sure that I do.
Ca’aed itself shimmered in the distance now, its breadth dominating the horizon. Kites, dirigibles, and people swarmed around it like flies. No, no, not like flies. Like hunter birds, like shades, or even puffs. Ca’aed would not fall to the flies.
Ca’aed was an ancient city. It’s pass-throughs, arches, sails, and gardens had grown huge and richly colored with age. Its highest sails nearly raked the clouds, and its sensor roots dragged in the canopy. Where villages skimmed and bobbed on the winds, Ca’aed sailed ponderous and stately, as if it graciously allowed the winds to carry it along.
T’sha’s family had helped the city grow its shells and sails. They had protected it and been protected by it for thirty generations. They had been pollers, speakers, teachers, engineers, and ambassadors. Always, always, they had worked directly with Ca’aed, heard its voice, helped it live.