The Farris Channel by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

inside the cloak someone had loaned him.
    The Fort was so crowded, it seemed there would be no place for even a moment’s solitude to just let his nager expand without fear of hurting someone. But with the snow and cold wind, he thought perhaps the cemetery would be deserted, so he walked along the wall to the small door. The cemetery would be a good place for dark thoughts.
    He heard the donkeys trudging around the well, though it was out of sight across the compound. He’d seen two wagons filled with kegs of river water parked by the stables earlier, and some of that hammering in the distance was the repair crew working on the well outside the walls. How long will the water last with all these people?
    He heard a second pair of animals being led out to the well. He walked past the building that housed Rimon’s office, the infirmary, and sleeping quarters for the channels. Someone was emptying chamber pots into the privy pit behind the infirmary. Sanitation. Feed for the animals. It was going to be a very hard, very busy winter and he was already too exhausted to think.
    Near the door out to the cemetery was recent construction, rows of family housing right across from the wing of the infirmary. Piles of dirt, split logs for the walls, and detritus surrounded the new buildings. Tonight, each one was accommodating three times the number it was designed for. People were tending crying children, nursing headaches, avoiding nightmares, trying to grieve silently.
    He waved a tentacle in greeting to an old man sitting on the steps of a new house whittling what looked like a toy.
    The small door in the Fort’s wall was barred with three hardwood planks and guarded by two young renSimes.
    “Tuib, the order is that nobody is to go out until dawn after the scouts return. All the gates are shut.”
    Of course. “Yes, that’s good. Thank you,” he said as he passed by without breaking stride. A little further on he came to a stair and mounted to the top of the wall where guards paced, zlinning the distance.
    He came up to the first one who stood with his hands tucked up in his sleeves and asked, “Mind if I walk the wall for a while?”
    “You’re that new channel from Tanhara,” the renSime identified. “I’m Filo. Sure, go ahead as long as there’s no Raiders out there. How far can you zlin?”
    Channels could zlin much farther than renSimes, but some channels were more sensitive than others.
    “There’s nobody this side of that ridge.” Solamar indicated the low hill between the Fort and Shifron.
    “Then it’s all right for you to be up here.”
    “Good,” he told the guard. “I just wanted to breathe fresh air, move a little.” Outside the Fort walls, horses were tethered to a line, and a large herd of sheep was watched by four dogs and two renSimes. He’d heard people talking about the main herd of sheep being wintered in a nearby canyon at the edge of the valley. Some loose cows had snuggled up to the lea of the wall. Tanhara’s stray chickens roosted under the bushes around the Fort’s hen house.
    “You just want to zlin the distance instead of the wall in front of your nose?”
    “That’s the idea.” Solamar didn’t mention how easily he could zlin through the Fort’s walls.
    “Guard duty has its good points!” agreed the man. “Just mind that ice where Jokim spilled his tea. Kick the snow down where you find a drift. Someone will be up to shovel it soon no doubt. Everyone’s sleeping in shifts because there’s no room, so plenty are working even now.”
    “They’re talking about new buildings already.”
    “Been building for months. Now with Tanhara added, we’re hauling river water from the irrigation canal for tonight and we won’t be able to do that all winter. They’re going to start a new line of privies tomorrow morning and another new well.”
    “Tanhara is very grateful for your hospitality and sorry for the losses our arrival has cost.”
    The guard gathered himself, nager