Martians
The people of the storms: tall, four-armed and plated in rust, with a sail along the back that feels the wind before it comes. They count time in dust storms, drink salt and iron out of stone, and hold water holy. They live in towers of red brick above the storms and call humans bareskins.
«A bareskin. Our sails heard you long before our eyes did. I am …. Stand on the lee side of me — the wind here is old and rude.»
The settlement and its dwellers
Crafts
Looks
Where they live
Leeward Towers. A Martian windhold: tall narrow towers of red mud brick above the storms, cellars dug into the ground where the ice keeps, windcatchers on the roofs and covered walks between the towers. In the middle stands the storm bell tower, and its bell rings when the sails of the elders feel a storm coming.
Tasks
The Garrison's Cellars· ElderGo down into the Rust Bastion in the canyon, where the garrison cut its cellars, and come back up.
«Forty bareskins waited in that fortress for their own kind, and their own kind never came. Every cold season they cut deeper, and our elders told them: the ground under the big dunes is not empty. Then the drums stopped. Go in for us, … — the gate tower opens to a roller's plate — walk their halls and come back to tell me what is left.»
The Empty Throne· ElderDefeat the Hematite Tyrant in the throne hall at the bottom of the Rust Bastion.
«Now you know what sits on the garrison's throne. The elders say our storms are its tossing in its sleep — and it does not sleep any more. Its altar asks for three roller plates; you carry them. Feed the altar, and when the king stands up, put it down. We will cut no notch for it.»
The Windless Road· ElderWake the red ring of Mars: the gate between the worlds.
«The red ring on the plain sleeps and remembers storms. It opens for one who has stood through a Great Storm under the open sky and brought down the king on the throne — half of that is done. It also wants the king's heart, green stones from the deep, our white salt and stardust. Give it everything at once, and the elders will have a road with no wind on it.»
Ice from the Water Star· Ice MinerBring the ice miner eight blocks of packed ice from Earth for the town cistern.
«The last storm caught me on the way back from the cap, and I left three loads of true ice in the dunes to get home alive. The cistern is low; the elder counts the drops. Your Water Star sheds true ice the way a roller sheds plates, they say. Bring me eight blocks of the pressed kind — it melts slower — and the town will drink this season.»
Three Days Short· Ice MinerFind the bareskins' drill on the polar cap and bring the ice miner four portions of perchlorate salt from its cores.
«The bareskins drilled into the smoking ice for water and gave up three days short of it. Their derrick still stands on the cap, and their barrels of cores still lie by the shaft. Salt tells depth: the deeper it lay, the more bitter it is. Go there, bring me salt from their deepest barrel, and I will taste how close they came.»
The Warden's Walk· Storm WardenWalk from the Face Mesa to the Opal Crown, the way every young storm warden does.
«Every warden walks it once, before they are trusted with the bell: first to the face our ancestors cut into the mesa, so the sky remembers someone lives here, then to the Crown, where eight opals lean to eight winds. You have no sail, …. Walk it anyway, and I will teach you to read the Crown the way we do.»
A Notch Beside the Deep One· Storm WardenStand through a Great Dust Storm on Mars and bring down three dust devils that march on the towers.
«My sail itches from the west, and it has not itched like this for many storms: a Great one is gathering. When it comes, the devils march out in packs, and some of them come for our windcatchers — one devil in a windcatcher fills a tower with sand to the roof. We fold our sails and sit by the ice. You have no sail to fold. Stand out in it, bring down three of the marchers, and the elder will cut you a notch.»
Light for the Pale One· Storm WardenCarry a fire opal from the storm warden to the Earth Keeper of the Lunarians on the Moon.
«You brought us stone from the pale companion of the Water Star — stone that shines with no sun. The elder answered with words. Words are thin; the wind takes them. We wardens answer with light: here is opal that holds the light of a storm, the way their stone holds the light of the blue star. Carry it to the one who sent the stones, the one who watches the Water Star. Tell them the towers are looking back.»
Dune Watch· Rust Smith· repeatableDefeat three rust scorpions that creep up to the forge from the dunes.
«They smell the iron cooling on my anvil and come up out of the dunes at night, tail first. My big arms are for the hammer, not for scorpions. You carry a weapon, bareskin. Thin them by three, and I pay as a smith pays: in iron. Come back another day — they always do.»
Plates of Your Own· Rust SmithForge a hematite cuirass yourself and show it to the rust smith who taught you.
«You walk without plates, and the wind laughs at you; I can hear it. I will tell you how we do it. Roller plates bound with leather into bands; seven bands into a breast, and a lining under them. Forge it yourself — not bought, not found in the bastion — and show it to me. Only to me: I want to see your seams before anyone else.»
Red Roots for the Calves· Roller Herder· repeatableBring the roller herder twelve beetroots for the young rollers after a storm.
«After a storm the calves uncurl hungry and won't lick stone — they are too small for iron yet. But the red root of the Water Star they eat out of your hand. Bring me a dozen now and then. I pay with what the herd and the bushes give.»
The Bareskins' Field· Roller HerderFind the field of hematite blueberries and bring the roller herder eight blocks of hematite gravel.
«My rollers stray north to the field where the blue berries lie loose on the ground — the bareskins' field. They lick the iron there and come back heavy and sick. We don't go to that field: it smells of people. You smell of people already; it won't mind you. Bring me its gravel, and I'll feed them iron at home, where I can see them.»
Spare Salt· Perchlorate GrinderCarry six portions of perchlorate salt from the grinder to the rust smith, and do not say who offered first.
«The smith and I have not spoken since two storms ago — a word about his chimney, never mind which word. But his forge eats coal brought from your Water Star, and white salt makes a fire hotter without coal. Carry him this. Don't say I offered first. Say... say it was spare.»
Salt from the Breathing Ground· Perchlorate GrinderLive through the spring geysers on Mars and bring the grinder twelve portions of perchlorate salt.
«In spring the ground breathes: cracks hiss for three heartbeats and then spit dark dust and white salt from deep below — salt the sun has never touched. That salt burns best of all. We keep away from the cracks: they throw even a Martian like a pebble. But you are quick. Stand by them when they hiss — beside, not on — and gather what they spit.»
Salt of the Quick One· Perchlorate GrinderBring the perchlorate grinder eight pieces of hollow salt from Mercury.
«You have walked on the small quick one — the one that never leaves the sun. The wardens say its plains are white with salt the sun bakes all day long. I have ground every salt on Mars, and I have never tasted salt baked by the sun. Next time you go, bring me a pouch of it, and I will tell you whether it is food or fire.»
A Ring That Turns into the Wind· Rust SmithBring the rust smith six copper gears and two valves for the turning ring and the shaft of a windcatcher.
«The windcatcher of the north tower no longer turns into the wind. Its ring is our iron, and sand has sat in it for nine storms. Rust is skin to us, bareskin, but in a ring rust is a grave. The red metal of your Water Star does not rust red: it goes green and keeps turning. Bring me six toothed wheels of it, and two of your shutters with a handle — to close the shaft when the devils march. The old ring I will cut out myself.»
Heavy Grain· Fear DrillerBring the Fear driller eight pieces of raw osmiridium from the Trojan swarm.
«Wind at your back, bareskin. You see the drill? Its teeth are worn: the Runner is soft, but there is grit in it. I need grain heavier than lead for new teeth. It lies in the red rocks that walk ahead of the striped giant. Eight pieces. I say it over water: I pay.»
Fire for the Mast· Fear DrillerCarry four fire opals from Fear's Nest to a flux tapper of the Io Mast near Jupiter.
«The floaters of the striped giant drink lightning from a mast. Lightning comes and goes; a stone that burns by itself does not. Take them four of ours. Let them see that those who dig also have fire. And ask what they pay for a storm in a jar.»
A Full Shift· Fear DrillerRaise the class of your ship at the dock console of any station.
«Your ship is thin, bareskin. One hit from a stone, and you walk. In the Nest we do not send a thin hull into the dark. The dock arm can make it stronger: bring what the console asks and press twice. Come back with a hull worth a shift.»
Who Fell· Fear DrillerFind a wrecked ship in space and scan it with the ship scanner, then return to Fear's Nest.
«Three storms ago a ship passed the Runner and did not answer our lamps. Then it went quiet. We count our own. I want to know it was not one of ours — and if it was, where it lies. Find a broken ship out there. Let your scanner read it. Then come and tell me who fell.»
What to talk about
Tell me about Mars.
Red ground, thin air, cold that bites at night. And wind — always wind. Once there were seas here: you can see their bones in the pale layers of the canyons, in the blue-green clay that only water makes. The seas left. The wind stayed. We stayed with the wind.
What can you see in the sky from here?
Two moons that cannot agree: the Runner rises in the west and crosses the sky twice a day, the Slowfoot dawdles in the east for days. The Water Star at dusk, small and blue. And at sunset the sky turns blue around the sun — the only blue we ever see, except in ice.
Why does the Runner hurry so?
He is falling. Slowly, the way dust settles in still air. The elders say one day he will come too close and break apart, and we will have a ring like the far giants. My grandchildren's grandchildren will count their storms by it.
Who else lives on Mars?
Rollers are gentle and plated; in a storm they curl into balls and let the wind roll them down the canyons. We herd them for the plates they shed. Dust devils are children of the storm, a black stone heart in a coat of wind; leave them alone and they leave you. And the rust scorpions under the dunes. Those you do not leave alone. You leave.
What is worth seeing around here?
The wind carved most of it, our ancestors some of it, and the bareskins left the rest. Walk with the wind and you will find all three. Ask about any, and I will tell you what the towers remember.
I have read a tablet of those who set the rings. Whose face is it?
Then you may hear what we say only under the bell. The face is not ours. The ancestors carved it, yes — but after a pattern: there was a smaller one on the old stone, and they made it as wide as a valley, so the sky would remember. We call them Those Before the Storms. The storms came when they left.
What were they like?
The pattern-stone has no eyes like ours and no sail. Only a brow, and a ring where the head should be. The ancestors measured the old road by the mesa: one stride of it is nine of ours. And every tale agrees on one thing — while they walked here, the wind was warm. We have counted storms ever since it turned cold.
Why does the face look up?
Because that is where they went. The bell keepers say the face is not looking — it is waiting. A sentry looks down at the road. One who waits looks up. If your tablets say the road runs by the stars, then the face has been turned the right way all along, and it was we who looked at our feet.
What is the ring of opal crystals?
The Opal Crown — our calendar of storms. Eight crystals for eight winds, each leaning toward its own. When a storm is gathering, the crystal on its side glows at night, brighter than opal should. The wardens read it the way you read a page. In the pit in the middle there is only a barrel: the bareskins thought it was a treasury.
And the stone arch and the tall pillar in the canyons?
Wind work. The wind eats the soft dark layers and leaves the hard pale ones hanging: give it a million years, and a ridge becomes an arch, a plateau becomes a tooth. On top of the tallest tooth there is fire opal. At night it shines like a lamp, and travelers steer by it.
What is the six-wheeled iron beast by the dune?
A bareskin animal. It came crawling over the plain on six round legs, very slowly, looking at stones. At the dark dune it sank and lost a leg. We sang over it, as one does over the dead, and left it to the wind. Its tracks are still sharp. Only storms erase anything here, and even they seem to respect it.
What is the iron tower on the ice cap?
The bareskins came for water and drilled into the smoking ice. Smoking ice has no water in it — every ice miner knows that. They brought up salt and white smoke, barrel after barrel, and never went deeper. True ice lies under the false. They were three days of cutting away from it when they left.
Tell me about the storms.
Storms are our years. We say "three storms ago", not "three years". A small storm comes every few days and passes; a great one comes rarely and takes the sky away for days. We are the people who stay through them. Everything else here hides or runs.
What does the sail on your back feel?
Wind before it arrives. The dust carries a tingle ahead of a storm, and the membranes catch it: my sail itches on the side the storm will come from. When it comes, we fold the sail flat, or the wind would take us with it. A young one with an open sail in a storm is a kite.
Names
Harrask · Tuvrek · Oshaar · Kezzir · Varrun · Sekhta · Ruzhan · Ikkar · Daskhe · Thromm · Azzur · Khesset