Gretchen felt cold and hot at the same time. Her heart was racing. "How? Don't such things take years of training, meditation, effort?" What will I see? What secrets will be revealed?
Hummingbird reached into the folds of his cloak and drew out a small plain paper packet held between his fore- and middle fingers. The nauallis looked at the packet grimly. "Sometimes there are shorter paths than those trod by tradition."
The packet seemed to swell in Gretchen's sight, becoming enormous. She could hear the stiff paper scratching and rustling against something inside. Grains of sand. A powder.
"And in return? What do you expect of me for this gift?"
Hummingbird set the packet down at the edge of the blanket. "Go with me into the canyon. I want every advantage at my side, Anderssen, including you."
Gretchen shook her head. She felt clammy — and afraid — from head to toe. She licked her lips. "I have to finish fixing this landing gear. I'll think about it."
"Very well." Hummingbird rose and disappeared into the gloom outside the cone of light. The packet remained, glowing a soft cream, at the edge of the blanket. Gretchen turned the welder back on and resumed fitting the landing gear back together.
The stars had moved far in their slow, stately dance before Anderssen finished repairing the Midge. She carefully brushed herself down and limped stiffly back to the cave. Her right leg was cramping. The old Mйxica was at the mouth of the overhang, face to the night, legs crossed. Their camp lantern had been dialed down to a bare gleam against the rear wall. Gretchen sat down next to him and took a long drink from her water tube.
"Hummingbird," she said, "What does a judge — a tlamatinime — really do?"
"Those are two questions, Anderssen. You are making idle conversation."
"No, I want to know. Are all judges like you?"
Hummingbird laughed. "That is impossible. There is only one of me. Each judge is different as stones from stones or clouds from clouds."
"Do all judges know these secrets you've told me?"
"No." Hummingbird settled back against the wall of the overhang, staring out across the vast empty plain. "A judge has a duty, to see the people live a proper life, one pleasing the gods and benefiting all. The evil, the duplicitous, the amoral — the judge must take these influences away from the people, for they divert men and women from the right path. A judge must abide by the laws of the gods and of men; he must live a strong life. His example is worth a thousand punishments."
Anderssen began scratching lines in the sand between her boots. "You do not seem to be the usual sort of judge."
"No." Gretchen caught a faint impression of grief on Hummingbird's face. "My burden is heavier. I and others like me watch at the edge of human knowledge — in empty places like this — where our ignorance may lead to disaster. Individual human lives, in raw truth, mean nothing, but the race — our people — must live, and this requires vigilance and protection at all times."
Gretchen shook her head, dismayed. "Your universe seems filled with threat and horror. Is it worth it to live in such a place? Do I want to see such things? Do you really think humanity must be coddled in this way? Wouldn't — "
Hummingbird turned, eyes flashing. Gretchen felt his disapproval like a physical blow.
"You are very young, if you think men and women do not need protection. If you really believe this, you should take off your z-suit."
"Peace! Peace, old crow." Gretchen raised her hands. Her face grew still and Hummingbird — who had been about to speak sharply — waited instead.
"I have been thinking about my children," she said. "My mother and I — all the adults on our steading — watch after and protect them. Why am I angry if you watch over the Empire and all the sons and daughters of man?" Gretchen's mouth quirked into a wry smile, opening her palm toward him. "On the mountain, you expressed a low opinion of my science, of tools. But you are a societal tool yourself — a very, very specialized one — a soldier of the mind rather than guns or steel."
Even in the darkness, Gretchen could tell the nauallis's expression became sour.
"I am not making fun of you," she said, unsealing a pocket on her vest. The packet of paper unfolded under clumsy, gloved fingertips. Inside was a glittering powder. In the starlight, Gretchen thought the crystals burned a golden color. "You are aware of your purpose, which is far more than I could say. Do I take this dry or mix with water?"
The nauallis shifted, head turning towards her. Both goggle lenses caught the lantern light and shone brilliant silver. "Put it under your tongue. Let it dissolve."
Gretchen leaned her head back, fist cupped over her mouth. There was a sharp bitter taste.
"Now, you should lie down." Hummingbird was at her side, guiding her into the cave. His voice grew distant, then louder again, before fading away entirely. Darkness closed around her, a comfortable, heavy old blanket.
Indefinable time passed.
Gretchen became aware of a single voice echoing in a void. She tried to open her eyes, thinking dawn had come and Hummingbird was calling her to wake, but she found only limitless darkness, unbroken by any source of light. There was nothing to touch or smell, taste or feel. Only echoing sound, only the one voice — almost familiar — tense and irritable. Gretchen realized the sound was a man — a very old man speaking in a sonorous, trained way — arguing bitterly.
Immediately, the voice split into two. A young woman made a sharp, angry reply.
"Even the least organism must adapt to changing circumstance! Everyone in service to the Mirror knows you plead the poor mouth to the ruling council and the colonial office, saying the naualli are stretched too thin."
"We are!" The elderly man let his full voice boom in response. "The Empire is too large for us to protect — changes will have to be made — "
"Abandonment, you mean." Acid bitterness etched the woman's voice. "Reserving the naualli to watch over the 'important' worlds, the Mйxica colonies, the Fleet! What of the other settlements? You will leave millions of humans without even the slightest protection."
"We do not have enough men to watch every squatter's camp and unlicensed mining station." Gretchen could tell the elderly man was entirely sure of himself and his policy. Certainty throbbed in every perfectly enunciated syllable. "We hold a hundred worlds which are not full! Even on older colonies like Tlaxcallan and Shinjuku there is room for millions. Those worlds are already watched, already guarded by the tlamatinime. Without more judges, we dare do nothing else."
"Then," the woman said, drawing a breath, "let us help."
"No." The man's voice was sharp and firm.
"Change the policy," the woman pleaded. "Let the tititil go out among the people. Let us watch in darkness, as the naualli do." Her tone changed, once more veering into anger. "Abandoning the frontier colonies will suffocate the Empire. You know as well as I what will happen to fresh populations sent to Tlaxcallan — or Shinjuku or Budokan — they will find only the lowest professions open to them. Doctors and scientists will toil in laundries or dig in the fields. They will be servants!"
"These are not matters for us to decide," the man said patronizingly. "Each man — and each woman — finds their own way in the world. Only the survival of the race is our concern."
The woman made an almost familiar hissing sound. "You don't care about the race. You only care about your calmecac friends and the hunger of the pochteca companies for cheap labor! What organism can thrive in an ever-shrinking niche? Nothing! If you cared about the race, you'd let us train alongside the men and stand watch as they do."