TWELVE
THE RECEIVING CHAMBER of the reigning Lyu was large, too large. You wouldn’t think the leader of the Community would need a chamber so large. After all, it wasn’t like diplomatic teams from the Holding and the Empire were going to come here to visit. The day that either government found out where the Community was the entirety of it would be moved somewhere else, with no delay. The Tsikari had no love for outsiders. Yet the receiving room of the Lyu was large enough to hold diplomatic teams from both Empires, with enough room between them for a neutral zone to be declared. Grand plans for the future, perhaps? Or just a reflection of the ego of the ruler who called this space her own? Probably a bit of both, Rho mused. After all, they were not supposed to remain a fugitive people forever.
The place was golden, all golden. Golden pillars arched upward to meet a ceiling of glittering pyrite crystal. Burnished bronze walkways with golden highlights were inlaid with mosaic patterns of Ikna citrine, suggesting the blazing rays of a golden sun. Shadows and highlights were all in the same shades, dust-streams and reflections, all golden. Rho knew that the designer of the Palace had intended it to be a homage to the yellow sun of Llornu, in this place where no star shone. But for generations raised without a sun such things no longer had meaning, and such decoration became merely . . . exotic.
She took in a deep breath as she entered, using her Disciplines to quiet the storm of emotion inside her . . . or at least to hide it away well enough that others wouldn’t sense it. She wasn’t yet accustomed to what the changing had done to her mind, or how easy it was for others to pick up on her emotions now. Was that a problem unique to the Shaka, or was it simply the price of developing Aggressive skills so late in life? Most defensive mental patterns were learned at puberty, when they first became necessary. Did those with natural Aggressive skills have to tiptoe through their teenage years, choking back on every emotion before it was broadcast to the world at large? Or was this simply what came of an adult Awakening?
Shaka. The thought brought back memories . . . and anger.
Hide it. Hide it away.
Dressed in the traditional garments of her rank, the Lyu appeared at first glance to be part of the room itself, a golden presence that filled the space with light and energy. Rho had time to study her as she approached, aware that every step she took down the long audience chamber reinforced the woman’s status as Autarch, and her own as Petitioner. Perhaps that was the purpose of the place, she mused. Certainly the mosaic pattern of the walkway, in which solar flares of glittering crystal blazed forth from the base of the woman’s throne, would seem to suggest it.
The woman who wore the Lyu’s crown was part Azean, part . . . something else. She was a kind of hybrid that would never have existed on the home planet, but here, where selective breeding was the name of the game, such mixtures abounded. Even pairbonded Azean couples might choose to mix their DNA with that of some other Scattered Race, in the hopes of creating a child of unusual telepathic potential. So it had been with this woman. The golden skin of the Star Empire bore the striated markings of some other race; the features were more angled, more deeply sculpted than Azean features would have been; the eyes were swept outward and upward with an alien cant. It was impossible to see her hair, for the formal headdress of the Lyu covered that over with a cascade of crimson feathers, but Rho was willing to bet it wasn’t the gleaming white of the Empire’s ruling race. That brilliant white hair was the first thing to go when you started mixing DNA.
The Lyu had chosen formal attire for this meeting, with a broad golden collar and matching headdress that reflected the lights of the chamber in a thousand points of fire. From the top of the headdress cascaded a waterfall of slender blood-red feathers; it almost looked like hair from a distance but it didn’t move like hair, and as the Lyu nodded her acknowledgement of Rho’s approach the air currents in the room rippled through the fine wisps like a breeze across a bird’s tail.
That was all just for show, of course. The only piece of adornment that really mattered was the one affixed to the front of her collar, just above her heart. From a distance Rho could not see the details of it, but as she approached she could make out a slender crystal vial with tiny serpentine wisps of fog moving through it. Inside the fog, she knew, would be a thin sliver of cryogenic casing, and within that, invisible, the delicate twisted strands of human DNA. More precious than gold, or even human life . . . at least in the view of those who still served the vision of the first Lyu, and who ruled the stars in her name.
Rho came to within what she thought was a polite distance and forced herself to bow her head in proper greeting. Minimal. She didn’t feel very respectful right now, and while she’d give the woman her due, she wasn’t going to part with one ounce more than that.
“Shaka-Rho.” The Lyu spoke with the measured tones of formality; the psychic echo behind them was minimal, unconscious. “You requested an audience.”
“Yes.” By responding in spoken words she indicated her own preference for such formality. Now that she was Shaka, of course, she could have done otherwise. The words would flow from her as easily as they did from the Lyu, or any other telepath.
But. Then there would be emotions involved. The telepath hadn’t yet been bred who could communicate mind-to-mind without some emotion seeping through. Only by using more primitive means of communication could one maintain true mental privacy.
And she needed that privacy now. Oh yes. If the Lyu saw what was in her head right now, she’d probably be shoved out the nearest airlock. Or worse.
“I congratulate you upon your recent trials,” the golden figure said. Even her lipstick shone metallic, a deep bronze that matched the paint above her eyes. “Hasai-Thera said you came through with flying colors. That’s good. We have need of more Shaka, to safeguard the Community.”
Rho took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. One needed time to take the measure of a speaker, to taste the emotions that hung about each living mind like a haze. The Lyu would be tasting hers now . . . and gods help her if any of her true feelings were evident. Rho didn’t even know what would happen then. No one in recorded history had ever defied the Lyu, not since their exit from the Star Empire so very long ago.
“Thera said she was pleased to have a Hostilities Adjustor qualify,” Rho offered.
“Yes. That is a valuable skill also. To have the two in one will serve us well.”
She bowed her head slightly. “I am honored to serve my people.”
The Lyu settled back into her golden throne and regarded her with half-lidded eyes. Rho stiffened, sensing from the scrutiny that her cursory examination was done. Could they move on to business now?
“Shaka-Rho.” She said the words as if tasting them as they passed her lips. “You asked to see me.” She paused; the golden gaze was piercing, a blade thrust right into Rho’s soul. “This is not a surprise, I think.”
She said nothing.
“You have questions. I will hear them.”
Rho drew in a deep breath, preparing herself. She didn’t know what would happen if she antagonized the Lyu . . . but part of her didn’t care. A dangerous part. Finally she said, in a tone as devoid of emotion as she could possibly make it, “I have a sister.” The tone was not that of a question, but the psychic tenor could surely not be mistaken.
The Lyu regarded her for a long moment, silent. Rho had to fight back the tendrils of her own thoughts from reaching out to taste her emotions, so that she could guess at what she was thinking. A telepath as skilled as the Lyu would surely detect such an effort. An autarch as powerful as the Lyu would surely find it offensive.
At last the Lyu nodded. Crimson feathers fluttered in the golden air. “You have a sister.”
“A twin.”
The head nodded slightly. “Yes.”
She swallowed hard, trying not to let the anger sound in her voice. She knew she couldn’t keep it out of her mind. “Why wasn’t I told?”
“It did not serve the Community for you to be told.”
“But now it does.” The edge in her voice was unmistakable, even to her.
“Now it does.”
Anger was a lump in her throat. “And why is that, all of a sudden?”
The golden figure stirred slightly. If she was surprised or offended by Rho’s tone there was no other sign of it. “Because now she seeks you.”
It was not a surprise. Thera had told her the same. But hearing it from such a source gave the words new weight.
“Why now?”
“Because she has learned of her heritage, perhaps. Because she feels the first stirring of powers she does not understand. Because she knows what it is to be a psychic in the Star Empire, and she is afraid.”
“But if she is—” She stopped suddenly, the words sinking in. ~The first stirring of powers. But that would mean . . . she wasn’t psychic before now?
~Exactly so.
~(incredulousness) That isn’t possible.
~(utter calm) Apparently it is.
~She’s my twin, yes? Identical.
~(confirmation)
~Then the power should be the same.
~Yes, Shaka-Rho. By all the rules as we understand them, it should be the same.
It took her a moment to understand that. To weigh the implications of it. Even to one who wasn’t a Hasai, some things were clear.
“Is that why you left her there?” She had to switch to speech again, not trusting her own emotions. “To be raised among the Azeans?” She practically spit out the last word.
“We didn’t choose to ‘leave her there.’ ” If the Lyu caught any hint of the anger behind her words she gave no sign of it. Calm, the leader was unshakably calm, golden and confident; no mere words could make her otherwise. “It was an accident. Unfortunate timing. We meant to claim you both.”
Images swirled about Rho, prodding at the edges of her mind. She opened up enough to let them in . . . and saw the Community’s agent caught in the midst of kidnapping two children, hurrying away with one while the other was left behind . . . she could feel the frustration attendant upon the images, long days of hot debate in the halls of the psychic community. Go back, go back and get the other one, she is one of ours! Emotion answered with logic, so cold a logic it hardly felt human. No. Leave her there. This too will have purpose. . . .
She felt herself tremble as the understanding came. “It was an experiment.” She whispered the words, struggling to absorb their implications. “You left her behind as an experiment.”
“We ‘left her behind’ because we failed in Acquisition. You know the risk that would have been involved in a second effort. All the Azean authorities had been warned by the first attempt that we wanted the second child; getting through them again would have been all but impossible—”
“But a skilled Shaka could have done it.”
Silence. Cold, thick silence. “Perhaps.”
“You chose not to try.”
“It is not so simple, Shaka-Rho.”
“No? Then explain it to me.”
A delicate telepathic ping warned her that she was near to crossing the line as far as acceptable behavior was concerned. She bit down hard on her frustration, forced calmer emotions to her foremind, and nodded. Control is the key to all things, the first Lyu had written. Without control we are nothing.
“You were a promising child,” the golden figure said at last. “But only that, and no more. Do you know how many promising children there are, that we watch for years, only to see them come to nothing? Do you know how many humans carry the genetic sequences that are in your flesh, without them ever being triggered? Do you know how many come here, and dedicate their adolescence to our cause . . . only to learn when they mature that whatever quirk of fate divides psychic from nonpsychic has left them on the wrong side of the divide?”
The golden eyes narrowed as the woman leaned forward in her seat. Slowly the volume of her thoughts rose, until each word was accompanied by a shimmering wave of emotion, impossible to shut out or ignore. “Do you hear them at night?” she whispered. “I do. All the cries of those who have been brought to the gates of our world in vain. Who now live among us as lesser creatures, knowing we would never call them that in words, but suffocated by their own inferiority nonetheless. I hear them screaming out their frustration with their crippled, inadequate minds. All about me. So very many. . . .”
She leaned back once more. The pounding waves of emotion ceased, becoming mere ripples in the golden air, passing into streams of dust. “When we brought you here, it was in the hopes that you would become one of us. We also knew that you might not. Which is a harsher fate, Shaka-Rho? Never seeing heaven, or being brought to its gate and denied entrance?”
“And that was why you never told me she existed? You wanted to see if I would Awaken first?” Rho could hear the edge of anger coming into her voice, and she let it stay there. This, she deserved. “Well I did. That was years ago. So when did you mean to tell me about this?”
The golden eyes fixed on her. Amazing, how anything so warm in color could be so utterly cold in substance. “In time, Shaka-Rho. All things in their time.”
“When?” she demanded. The woman’s utter calm was infuriating. “When she died, maybe? ‘By the way, Rho, you had a sister once. I’m so sorry, we left her in a barbaric empire where they fear the crazy psychics and sometimes they do terrible things to them, and she’s gone now—’ ”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like? Or don’t you think I have a right to know?”
The golden eyes narrowed in anger. “Must I spell things out for you as one would for a child? You are no infant, you know. You serve our mission, yes? That sometimes entails . . . sacrifice.
“She didn’t have your power, Shaka-Rho. Or any power, to the best of our knowledge. The same genes, but no Awakening.” She leaned forward on her throne. “Do you understand now? Do you grasp the value of such a thing, the unique opportunity she provided? We didn’t plan to use her that way, we would have preferred to claim her when we claimed you, to raise her among us . . . but since we failed in that, and since you both had identical genetic potential . . . what a perfect test case for the effect of environment on latent genetic sequences! Worth any price.
“And look what it has gained us! Certain proof of what our scientists have always postulated: that genomes alone are not enough. The Awakening can neither be programmed nor predicted. Our scholars will spend centuries analyzing every moment of her life to this point—and yours—until we know which elements caused one of you to Awaken and the other to remain . . . what Azeans would call ‘normal.’ Perhaps, if we learn enough, we can Awaken those hordes who cry out their frustration at night . . . that would be a good thing, yes?”
Softly she said, “And I couldn’t be told this at the time?”
The golden eyes were unblinking, emotionless. “Of course not. That would have changed the parameters of the experiment.”
“Why? I’m already Awakened, right? My part is done. So what, did you think I would interfere with hers? Skew your precious experiment?”
Quietly: “Isn’t that your intention now?”
She could feel a flush of anger rise to her face.
“We had to make sure she wasn’t interfered with.”
“And I couldn’t be trusted.”
“You’re human, Shaka-Rho. The bond between identical twins is legendary. The attraction between split-egg twins who are raised apart, equally so.” ~We did not wish to have to argue with you. As I am doing now.
“And you aren’t human, I suppose?”
For the first time since her arrival Rho could see a flicker of emotion cross the Lyu’s face. “I am the Guardian of the Community of Mind. I am the Commander of our eternal mission. If I were weak enough that human emotions could have interfered with my duties, I would have passed those duties on to another long ago.” Her hand fluttered up to the vial she wore over her heart. “Do you doubt my dedication?”
Rho bit her lip. “No.”
“Do you doubt my judgement?”
“No.” She said the word because it had to be said, but she knew that insincerity hung about the word like a cloud, which any psychic could read. Nor did she try to make it otherwise.
“We are more than a people, Shaka-Rho. More than a nation. We are the guardians of humankind’s most precious dream. We are its soldiers, commanded to protect a priceless genetic inheritance, and to wage war against those who would obliterate it. These goals are more important than one person, or any single family’s happiness. Our Founder understood that. The Hasai understand it as well. Now you have been raised up to those ranks wherein human destiny is crafted, and such understanding is necessary. One person means nothing, in the face of such a campaign.—Ah, that disturbs you. Tell me, are you more bothered because I feel such a thing, or because I admit to feeling it?”
She said nothing. There were no safe words to say.
“You will learn, Shaka-Rho. It will take time, but understanding will come. Not all of our people are aware of the full scope of our mission, but as Shaka, now, you will be initiated into those secrets. You will see . . . the battle is worth fighting. At any cost.”
“Perhaps.” She whispered it, while an inner voice stirred to accuse her. And you, Rho? You have manipulated people as well. You have twisted whole worlds, to suit the Community’s agenda. Is that so different?
I did it to protect them, she told herself. To prepare them for battles to come, so that they might protect themselves.
Yes, yes, the mantra of Hostilities Adjustment, the inner voice chided. Excuses for playing God, Rho. You’re no better than the rest of them.
Distinction Discipline. She visualized the patterns in her mind and bit down hard, concentrating on them. Shutting down the conduits that shunted thought to the outside world, turning off the parts of the mind that accepted thoughts from others . . . was the voice that chided her coming from within her, or from the outside? If the latter, now it would be gone.
Mere seconds passed before she felt in control of herself again; in the stillness of the golden air it seemed like an eternity.
“Are your questions all answered now?” the Lyu asked quietly.
She considered for a moment, then nodded stiffly. No, not all answered by any means—a thousand questions still battered at the edges of her consciousness, demanding to be heard, answered, perhaps evaded—but as for what might be said here, and now . . . yes. That much was finished.
What have you made of us? she thought. Not daring to let the words out beyond the borders of her own brain. What have we made of ourselves?
She bowed. Formally. Remembering the words from one of her Adjustment texts: Formality is the last refuge of the uncertain. So be it. A thousand thoughts were buzzing in her head, but this was a place in which that noise would be heard by others. Better to put distance between herself and the Lyu—between herself and all the psychics—before she stopped to scrutinize them. “I thank you for seeing me.”
The bronzed lips broke into a faint smile, cold, a ritual expression without any real warmth. “It is good that you come to ask such things. Our Adjustors must be sure of what they do.”
She wasn’t sure any more, that was the problem. All her certainty, all her pride, had been built upon the bedrock of identity. Now . . . she was a different creature than she had been. What did that make of her purpose?
She needed space. She needed time to think.
“Have I your permission to . . . to seek her?”
“It was assumed you would do such, when you knew.”
Rho drew in a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “That’s not an answer.”
“No. It is not.”
She waited, unflinching. I’m not a mindless puppet, you know. She made no effort to transmit her thoughts, but was pretty certain the Lyu could hear them anyway. You want my cooperation in your pet projects, you answer my questions instead of dodging them.
It seemed to her that a hint of a genuine smile creased the woman’s lips then. Nearly imperceptible, but undeniably genuine.
“Go where you wish,” the Lyu told her. “Do as you will. Know you are watched, and make your choices appropriately.”
~Everything you do, everywhere you go, every choice you make from now until the moment of your death, will teach us things about you. About our power. About ourselves.
Rho tried not to respond to that mentally, as she left the chamber.
In the end the leadership of our tribe will not be determined by who is strongest, or the most intelligent, or even the most determined. It will be won by men who wage war against allies as well as enemies, using means that are never direct, gathering intelligence where others do not even think to look for it, and above all else, perpetually preparing to face the unexpected.
—Zatar the Magnificent