Subterranean

Ashley bit back a scream of frustration. It was bad enough that they had wasted a day in this council meeting. Now Mo'amba, their only ally, had betrayed them. She clenched her fists, and her shoulders trembled. Jason could be in danger right now. She closed her eyes. He has to be okay…



Ben spoke up beside her, poking a finger into Harry's chest. "You couldn't have heard Mo'amba correctly. He said he'd help."



"Shhh!" Harry said, waving Ben's hand away. "I'm trying to listen."



Mo'amba had started to talk again after his accusation. Probably cinching the noose tighter around our necks, Ashley thought. She studied the council chamber, eyeing the exits and counting the guards.



Harry began translating again, haltingly, but with gaining confidence as he concentrated.



Mo'amba spoke calmly, "These newcomers to our world caused the death of the tin'ai'fori. This I have read in the whispered words of our ancestors."



There was much stamping of staffs from Bo'roda's group of lackeys, echoing painfully across the chamber. Ashley noticed, however, that Sin'jari, the leader's right-hand man, refrained from stamping his approval but simply wore a thin smile of triumph.



Mo'amba held up a hand for silence before continuing. "But these newcomers are not demons. They are flesh and blood, tendon and bone. Like us. It is not their evil that is harming us. Only their ignorance."



Sin'jari, whose smile had deflated into a wary sneer, spoke up. "It does not matter. Our tribesmen die and the law is clear. The responsible must die. And even you agree that they are responsible. I say we vote."



Harry stopped his translating, licking his dry lips. He glanced over to Ashley. "I told you that guy's a bastard."



Ashley nodded, not taking her eyes from Mo'amba. The heri'huti wore a shadow of a grimace. He held up a hand. "Our esteemed Sin'jari states that our laws are clear in this matter. And again I must bow to the expertise of our colleague here. He is right. Those responsible for the death of another must die. It is the law." Mo'amba paused. When Sin'jari tried to speak again, Mo'amba frowned at him, silencing his outburst.



Mo'amba then leaned heavily on his staff, as if the meeting exhausted him. He spoke slowly, giving Harry plenty of time to translate: "The key word in our law is responsible. I did not say these newcomers were responsible. I said they were to blame. It was their ignorance of us and our ways that caused them to blunder and inadvertently harm us. We cannot hold someone responsible for actions they were not aware of."



Bo'rada spoke up this time. "These are just words. The result is the same."



"Words?" Mo'amba answered, focusing his eyes on the tribe's leader. "It was these words that kept your right hand attached to your wrist. I seem to remember a small boy who let a herd of trefer'oshi loose from their pens. They destroyed almost a tenth of that year's crop. The law states that a hand who harms the well-being of the tribe should be cut off."



"I was only a boy then," Bo'rada blurted. "I didn't know what I was doing. You couldn't hold me responsible for-"



Sin'jari reached over and clutched the leader's knee, stopping him from speaking anymore, attempting to limit the damage.



Mo'amba turned to the other village elders, leaning even harder on his staff now, his back bent. "I am an old man. Older by far than all of you. I have seen each and every one of you blunder while growing up. Yet all of you still have your hands, feet"-he pointed a finger at Sin'jari-"and noses. Blundering is a process of learning. These newcomers are learning too. We must teach them, not destroy them."



A murmur spread through the cavern. Sin'jari fidgeted in his seat. One of his underlings leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Sin'jari nodded, then cleared his throat.



Harry gave Ashley a glance that seemed to say, Here we go again. Harry translated Sin'jari's words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth: "Mo'amba is wise as always and has given us much to ponder. But how does he know the harm done to our protective tin'ai'fori was accidental? How did the newcomers cause this damage? How?"



Great, thought Ashley. How is the old man supposed to answer that?



Mo'amba spoke up. "I have prayed upon this matter for many days, and an answer has come to me. Through their blundering, they have created an imbalance between ohna, the female spirit, and umbo, the male spirit. An imbalance that is tearing apart the weaving of our world."



A hushed murmur spread throughout the room. Even Sin'jari remained silent.



Jus'siri pushed to her feet to speak. "How can this be stopped?"



"I must show you," Mo'amba said. "Then all will be clear. You will know why I have protected these foreigners. If we kill these newcomers, we destroy our only way to reverse this damage."



Sin'jari snorted. "This is preposterous. He's only trying to delay the vote. I say we vote now. Destroy them, before they destroy us."



Bo'rada placed a firm hand on Sin'jari's shoulder, silencing him. "I've been accused of being too rash before. But this time I will bow to the council. I say we hear Mo'amba out. The matter is too serious."



Sin'jari seemed to shrink with the leader's words.



"Show us, Mo'amba," Bo'rada continued. "Show us how this occurred, and how to stop it."



Mo'amba nodded and led the way to the exit of the council chamber; the other members fell in line behind him. Ashley and her group were ushered by guards behind the tribe's elders.



"I knew the old bloke wouldn't betray us," Ben said to Ashley.



"We're not out of here yet," she answered, but for the first time she felt hopeful. With the tribe's cooperation and their knowledge of the cavern system, she could be back at Alpha Base in a couple of days. She adjusted her pace to that of the village elders, repressing the urge to shove them from behind to get them to hurry.



After arcing through several tunnels and climbing a winding flight of carved rock stairs, the council filed into a cavern barely large enough to contain the group. Ashley had to squeeze between Tru'gula, whose fur reeked like a wet dog, and the rock wall to get a view of the proceedings.



She whispered to Harry, "Where are we?"



Harry shrugged, bumping Tru'gula with his shoulder. The leader of the hunters grunted something angrily at him. Wincing, Harry leaned toward Ashley. "Don't ask me to translate that."



"You've never been to this chamber before?" Ashley asked.



"No, this section of the village belongs to the religious sect. A very closemouthed lot. I usually stuck to the hunters' group."



Ashley wiggled, trying to get a better view of Mo'amba. All eyes were on him.



Something flashed brightly at the old man's feet, but she could not see the source. She waved to Ben. "Give me a boost."



Ben helped her place a foot on his bent knee, holding her steady with a firm grip. She pulled up, balancing on one foot, using a hand on Ben's shoulder and the wall to maintain her precarious perch. Her head was now far enough above the crowd to see Mo'amba's entire figure.



He began speaking as Harry translated. "I have brought you all here because you know the significance of this chamber. This is the home of umbo, the male spirit." He then stepped aside and pointed with his staff.



There on a stone pedestal Ashley saw a familiar object flashing brightly in the meager light. It seemed to collect the light in the room and radiate it out in bursts of sparking darts. A crystal idol about fifteen inches high. Diamond. Similar to the one Blakely presented to her months ago, but this one had a definite and prominent protrusion below its naked waist. Male. This figure was the masculine twin of the other.



"Here stands umbo," Mo'amba declared. "As he should. Protecting our world. But he can't protect alone. He is only half of the whole. His other half, ohna, the female spirit, is missing."



"Yes," Sin'jari spoke up. "The newcomers stole her."



"Not stole. Our original village stood empty. They could not have known she was the connection to our distant past. She who was left to help guide our ancestors back to us in our new village. Now she is gone. The balance of umbo and ohna was destroyed by those unfamiliar with our ways. It is this imbalance that has disturbed the warp and weave that holds the fabric of our world together. It must be corrected."



"It can be," Sin'jari stated. "By destroying the invaders!" He looked around but was only met with worried murmuring.



"No," said Mo'amba. "The balance can only be achieved by returning ohna to her proper place."



The old man's logic seemed faultless, even to Ashley, who didn't believe a word of it. The elders around her, even their leader, were nodding their heads in agreement. Except for one.



Sin'jari strode to the center of the chamber, his bony limbs twitching in agitation. "Mo'amba has proven his wisdom." He turned to face the crowd. "It is clear we must kill the stragglers left from the attack of the crak'an and reclaim ohna for ourselves. Return her to her rightful place!"



A firm murmur of agreement followed his words, but no stamping of staffs. This seemed to rankle him. He rattled his staff on the rock floor, almost begging others to start stamping their own staffs.



Mo'amba, however, did not allow the crowd's murmur to grow. Harry continued to translate his words: "Our esteemed Sin'jari's wrath seems to have blinded him to an important law of the tribe." Mo'amba turned to the thick-chested leader. "Bo'rada, tell us what happened after you let loose the trefer'oshi from their pens to wreak havoc on our crops."



"Father and I rebuilt the pen and reseeded the trampled fields. It took us three days without sleeping to accomplish it."



"Exactly. You were given a chance to right your wrong. The newcomers deserve the same chance. Let them correct their own error."



Again the crowd murmured their assent. Even Tru'gula stamped his staff in agreement.