“Is it me?” Ume.

Dismissed, Alastair and Marq left with lowered faces. Ume walked to the door and called decisively, “Lexi.”

Lexi came, a serious expression on her face. Ume said, “Put Marq with the runners. We'll have our supper, then, I'll want evening assignments.”

“On it,” said Lexi, turning to leave.

Ume turned to Besh and forced a smile past her concerns. She said, “By the time we clean up and change, the table will be set.”

Besh took a quick shower and dressed in long pants and a loose shirt with sleeves rolled past his wrists. He sat on his bed with outstretched legs, and as he stared idly at his bare feet, he heard the shower switch on. He recalled Marq's bloody face, and sighed. Ume's reassignment to the runners might help, but there was now an open rift between himself and Marq that he needed to address. He recalled throwing his friend against the wall and venting hurtful words.

He had said, “I told you at the beginning, this is about me. Was I so wrong about you?”

Admittedly, he had not handled it well. He admired Ume's foresight and tact, her calm control of the moment. He saw what it cost her when she turned to him with a brave smile; her grace made room for even strangers. Stirring, Besh found clean socks and put on his sandals. He could hear subdued chatter from downstairs, and he could smell food as it went from kitchen to dining room. There were hot rolls, fish, and a sauce that smelled of mushrooms.

He stepped from his room and looked over the wooden rail. Mack sat at the entertainment corner as others lounged, or walked back and forth. Besh heard the shower cut off, then was surprised a moment later to hear Ume's hushed voice behind him. He turned as she beckoned.

“Besh,” she called softly. She flashed an embarrassed smile as he faced her. Ume peeked through the cracked door and said, “Sorry. I left my towel on the bed. Can you bring it?”

Besh was quick and chivalrous, bringing her towel and averting his eyes as Ume reached through the door. Ume stepped from the shower room with her blue towel wrapped around her, She tiptoed past Besh to her room, turned and whispered, “Wait for me.”

Besh leaned against the wall; he had nothing else to do. He listened to the conversations wax and wane; he inhaled the aromas that filled the cabin and tried to guess which foods he smelled. Then, Ume stepped from her room dressed in fresh shorts and a loose top. She leaned in the door frame to put her sandals on, smiling pleasantly. Besh was overwhelmed by the sweet scent of lavender on warm flesh. Ume stood straight and shook back her damp hair; it was a moment that deserved a spotlight. Pushing away from the wall, Besh looked into Ume's green eyes, and felt momentarily caged. Did it show?

Besh cleared his throat and spoke to stand against her penetrating gaze. “Something smells good.”

Ume took his arm, and with a coy tilt of her head, she asked, “Is it me?”

They reached the bottom stair arm-in-arm, and everyone stopped speaking to look. Mack whistled and turned back to her monitor. Tory stepped from the dining room with a pinched expression upon seeing Besh with Ume. He turned to the others, stoically, Besh thought, and made the call.

“Supper's on,” he said. “Let's grab a seat.”

Besh sat at the table to Ume's right, and Tory to her left. Two discoveries were immediate. The first was that the sauce did, in fact, include sliced portabellas. The second was the absence of Marq. As the Shades settled, Ume answered before Besh asked.

Leaning close, Ume said, “The runners took an early assignment, it seems.”

Tory added, “Unfinished business in Irilac.

Ume spoke to her Shades as they sat waiting for her words. “Are we grateful?” she asked. “Praise the cook. Is there a plate in front of you? Praise teamwork.” Ume raised a glass of red wine, and a noisy meal ensued. Besh listened as the Shades discussed Shade business. Tactfully, the issue with Marq was avoided. Besh spotted Audra at the end of the table in happy conversation with Alastair. The meal ended; Besh said no to seconds and nursed his wine. Table cleared, the Shades gathered in the living room for evening assignments; Besh sat alone with Ume.

Ume spoke softly. “We're close. My Shades pave the road you and I will walk. Soon, we should recover your wife.”

Besh turned to Ume, answering, “I am forever in your debt.”

Ume raised her glass and winked. She replied casually, “The thought pleases me.”

Besh followed Ume through her active group as they donned their disguises and rushed from the cabin. Audra smiled at Ume as she followed Brea and Lexi. Plume stopped, threw wide her arms, and received an impromptu hug from her boss. Tory gave her a nod in passing, and then, the cabin was empty. Ume walked to the entertainment corner as Mack returned from one of the rooms.

“So, are we ready?” asked Mack.

Ume answered, “We are not as savvy as you. Please make it easy to understand.”

Mack seated herself and brought up a spinning diagram of the stela. “This is the stela,” she said leaning back. “It's a dark obsidian with a high viscosity, elements of Brigitite, and a dactyl frequency. It was machine tooled. It stands at sixty centimeters, has four sides, a point at the top, and a hole in the flat underside. You have the translation.” Mack leaned forward and brought up a new screen. “A deep flush of Terran history shows that the Consortium and the Enmen both have an interest in the stela. It was the Enman attack on Fortress Tulieur that discovered the absence of the stela. By the way, mining around Con Isle seeks a Brigitite core from an asteroid impact.”

Besh asked, “Can you tell me more about the fortress?”

“Full story coming up.” said Mack. Navigating files, Mack quickly came to the image of a covered man. “This is François Tulieur, Terra's favorite hero. Philanthropist and teacher after the settlement, but later, he moved to the South Marsh and built Fortress Tulieur. He was the Consortium archaeological survey leader, and almost everything he found, including the stela, was kept in the fortress.”

Besh studied the image. François wore a long sleeved robe of dark blue, dark gray gloves, and a masked hood. Statistics beside the image showed a height of 179.832 centimeters. Besh leaned close, and asked, “Did he always dress like that?”

Mack answered, “They called him the faceless hero. He covered his face and hands due to a rare skin disease.” Mack worked her keypad and brought up a different image. “Here he is, years after the settlement, as a teacher.”

Besh looked at the man. He wore black trousers, black gloves, a dark blue sleeved pullover, and a modified masked hood. Statistics beside the image showed a height of 198.12 centimeters. He pointed to the numbers and asked Mack, “So, he grew eighteen centimeters? Is that right?”

Ume leaned close beside Besh and said, “You have a good eye for details.”

With a shooing motion, Mack said, “Feeling a little crowded here.” When Besh and Ume stepped back, Mack sighed and continued. “It may be a discrepancy in the early archive. I'll run a check. Meanwhile, I suggest we focus on the inscription. There are four pages, each with a cardinal direction. The wording is cryptic.”

Besh said, “I was never big on history, but this guy gives me a bad vibe.”

Mack looked up at Ume, who gave her a nod. Mack brought up information, and gave a synopsis as she scanned. “So, the faceless hero came from old Earth to Terra. He oversaw the first three surveys, and was instrumental in first contact with the indigenous peoples. When the Consortium engaged in open conflict with the primitives, he became an advocate for the indigenous. Later, he secluded himself in his fortress, and,” Mack paused and stammered, “and, well, there's no record of death. He just drops off the map.”

Besh asked, “So, what happened to the indigenous?”

Ume answered for Mack, “They were wiped out. Genocide. There were lawsuits for compensation and recognition, but all were quashed by the Judges. The Enmen claim they are the rightful owners of Terra.”

Mack said, “The Enmen and the Consortium grunts have been at it ever since. The heart of it all is Brigitite. And the stela.”

Besh looked between Ume and Mack. He said slowly, “I guess we better find out what the writing means.”

Ume took Besh in hand and said, “Come to my room. While Mack does what she does best, we can study the translations. I think, with your quick eye for details, we should solve the mystery in no time.”

As Ume pulled Besh toward the stairs, Mack stood and said, “Raine's resting. She doesn't feel well.”

Ume stopped and replied, “Give her broth. I'll come and check on her in a bit.”

In Ume's room, Besh took the translations and sat in the bedside chair. Ume sat on her bed, bounced, then laid back with her head on the covered pillow. She rolled her head to stare up at Besh. Her face was solemn. Besh laid the pages in his lap and asked, “What's on your mind?”

Ume said, “It's hard to believe.” She left her thought hanging.

“What?” prompted Besh.

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Ume said, “That our world is based on genocide.”

Besh replied, “It's the nature of the Consortium.”

“Still,” said Ume. “All those poor people.”

Besh looked toward the open door. “I don't know the whole story,” said he, “But I'm sure they put up a fight.”

Ume sat up quickly, her expression focused. “They were primitives,” she said. “I'm totally on their side. I watched all the early streams. It was horrible. I still see news images of burning towns and running frightened people. Nobody wanted the violence, but once the Judges found out about the Brigitite, they waged war despite the common outcry.”

Besh asked, “What do I need to know about Brigitite?”

Ume sat back on her hands, smiling, and answered, “Brigid was the goddess of spring and metals. Celtic, I think. Brigitite emits a healing frequency. What little there is is kept under wraps by the military. The primitives wore necklaces with Brigitite beads. They had long lives. Imagine Brigitite used in armor.”

Besh sighed and said, “So they want the stela because it contains Brigitite.”

Ume nodded thoughtfully. “That,” she said, “and something it leads to can be weaponized.”

“Where do you think it leads?” asked Besh.

Ume shook her head and answered, “No idea. I think if we can find out, we can stop the military from further mischief. And the Enmen.”

Besh looked at the synth pages with newfound respect. He said, “I think we should start reading, then.”

Ume laid back on her bed, saying, “I will let you read; that is the easy part. While you read, I will inject wise comments and pithy asides. That is the hard part.”

Ume turned her smiling face to Besh, who shook his head and cleared his throat. He began to read.

“Page one,” said Besh. “Cardinal point south. Laws take, hearts give, rulings jade, will not forgive. Be low, be down, be sodden, south. Know whom you've forgotten, you cold, foul, slough, and rotten. Great lake, reflecting stars, turn made, a land of scars.”

Ume asked, “Which direction is on the second page?”

Besh looked and reported, “East.”

“As I thought,” said Ume. “If you go south, you reach the swamps and the bogs. Been there, and they do smell awful. If you go east from there, as the crow flies, it's a straight shot to Eopirica. The lower half of the continent was scarred by glaciers.”

“You're pretty good,” said Besh.

Ume replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “It's a riddle. What's on page two?”

Placing page one behind, Besh read from page two. “Breathing fear, the high anoint, the robe I tear, and labels coined. Be on, beyond, moreover, east. You who took my right will bleed and beg to die. A broken spear, its haft disjoint, a cold command, a distant point.”

Besh laid the pages in his lap and turned to look at Ume. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were pursed. Besh waited. At length, she spoke. “Not getting it. Sounds like we go east, then east again.” Ume rolled her head to the side and looked up at Besh. “And still, we must reach some distant point.”

Besh said, “Let's read page three. No more a land, nor world belong, I take my stand, to right a wrong. Behind, be blind, benumbed, and north. My rebirth, your judgment bitter, learn you will, which is better. Strong my hand, just my cause, sound my plan, for hurt and sobs.”

Ume sat up and threw her legs from the bed. “Stop,” she said. “My head hurts. We'll need better minds than mine.”

Besh said, “We could go there and look.”

Ume appraised Besh with a smile playing at her lips. “Will you go with me?” she asked.