Sweet Starfire (Lost Colony #1)

Sweet Starfire (Lost Colony #1) Page 61

As Cidra watched, the crowded figures began to fade.

Unhappily she watched the swirling images disappear. “Severance, they’re going.”

“The picture is just fading. They were never really here to begin with.”

“But I need answers!”

“There’s no reason to expect any,” he said gently.

He was right. She knew that, but a part of her wanted to cry out in protest. There was so much to learn, so many questions she wanted to ask. Above all there was the mystery of how she and Severance had been led here in the first place. “Damn it. I wanted to know.”

“We’ve already seen more than any Harmonic archaeologist has ever seen.”

“I realize that, but it’s not enough. I need to find the key.’ She stopped talking as she realized that not all the graceful images had disappeared. Five Ghosts remained, shimmering between her and the doorway. “Look, Severance. There’s more.”

He said nothing, watching as the five robed figures coalesced in midair. In addition to the simple white garments, these Ghosts appeared to have a golden band around their furred wrists. Long, delicate fingers tipped with curving nails reached out.

For a wild moment Cidra thought that the creatures were gesturing toward her, and then she realized that the gentle, slanting eyes were not really seeing her. This was still only a projected image. But there seemed to be a purpose to the gestures. When all five Ghosts pointed toward the wall to their right, she automatically followed the tapering hands.

A new series of pictures sprang into existence on the curving wall and began flowing out from it. More Ghosts appeared, moving through a wild jungle setting that could only have been Renaissance. But the hands of these Ghosts were tipped with long, dangerous-looking claws, not well-trimmed nails. There were crude weapons worn on leather belts. Very little clothing was evident, but there were quite a few pieces of primitively ornate decorative items on furred throats, wrists, and ankles.

“The Ghosts’ ancestors?” Cidra asked.

“Could be. I get the feeling there’s a lot of distance between those cats with the claws and the five guys standing in the middle of the room.”

Even as Severance spoke, it became obvious that the scene evolving around them was a hunt. The handful of Ghosts were prowling. There was no doubt about it. They moved with a menacing care, and it wasn’t long before the object of the hunt came into sight. A horned animal stood on six legs nibbling leaves off a tree. Severance thought the creature resembled a modern-day Renaissance mannator.1

Cidra swallowed as the Ghosts attacked. The six-legged animal went down amid a flurry of thrown knives and scrabbling claws. As it struggled, its throat was ripped out. The fine quality of the illusion made the blood look very real. She was sure that what was happening was a simple and necessary hunting operation, but the violence of it was sickening. It brought back memories of feeding dracons. When she glanced briefly at her companion, she saw that he wasn’t particularly affected by the gory scene.

The lifelike mural continued, showing the Ghosts engaged in other activities besides the hunt. Cidra became interested in what was apparently a religious ceremony. Five Ghosts conducted the proceedings from behind an altar made of stone. The observers were seated cross-legged on the ground, swaying to an unheard beat. The fact that there were five leaders was interesting because that was how many Ghosts had appeared a few minutes ago in the room. Cidra tried to see if there were gold bands on their wrists but got distracted when a large, scaled animal was thrown down onto the altar. Too late she realized what was about to happen. She didn’t manage to look away in time to avoid seeing the knife dragged across the belly of the sacrifice. Again she felt nausea welling up, threatening to choke her for a moment.

Averting her eyes from the bloody scene, Cidra glanced back toward the middle of the room. The five Ghosts in white robes continued to stand pointing toward the moving illusion. Reluctantly she looked back.

“This is getting awfully gory, Severance. I don’t understand. It isn’t how I imagined the Ghosts would be.”

“You don’t think it was easy surviving on Renaissance, do you? Nothing that becomes dominant on this planet is going to be sweet-natured.”

“But the carvings show a gentler nature. And those five standing over there, they couldnt have been like this.”

“Wait and see.”

The images continued to shift, fading in and out of the walls. They moved more swiftly now, slowing only to show the details of a scene of weaving, the preparation of a meal or the carving of stone. It became clear that there was an element of time and progress involved. Clothing changed, becoming more elaborate. The design of structures altered. The early images showed the Ghosts sheltering in huge, wide-limbed trees. As the scenes progressed, however, shelters were created out of rocks and vines.

“It’s moving too quickly.” Cidra wanted to slow the images and savor each nuance of information contained in them. “There’s too much to see.”

“Maybe the Ghosts weren’t sure how long a visitor’s attention span was going to be.”

“How can you make a joke out of it? This is the most important find of the century. Perhaps the most significant discovery since the First Families arrived and found the first Ghost relics.”

Severance thought for a moment. “There’s another possible reason why the scenes are moving too swiftly.”

“What reason?”

“It could be because there’s a great deal of history to be conveyed. We could be dealing with several thousand years, here. Or a million, for all we know.”

“The rise and fall of a whole species?” Cidra watched as a scene of a village being built between the jungle and the sea took shape. “It looks like an alien version of Port Try Again. Right down to the walls built to hold out the jungle.”

It was clear that every inch of progress was a struggle. The Ghosts of Renaissance paid a high price for their growing civilization. Images of Ghosts being attacked by huge, fanged snakes and other horrendous forms of wildlife flickered on and off the walls. Pictures of tiny villages being trampled by lumbering, armor-plated animals were common.

“Zalons,” Severance told her. “Or at least an earlier version of them. The horns look slightly different, and the ears are smaller.”

“You said they were vegetarians.”

“They are. But that doesn’t make much difference to something smaller than they are that happens to get in their way. Zalons are a little clumsy.”