AMURA
FOURHUNDRED THIRTYONEDAY, VESPERS
They were too late.
And as the exhausted group climbed the palace stairs Elana stood waiting for them at the open doors of the Great Hall. Ronüviel and Braan led the way, Lyte and Moran hobbling up behind them as best they could. Enid had died nearly an hour before. Except for informing the Atare and sending word to the Ragäree over on Niamh, they had attempted to keep it a secret until Braan arrived. This had proved impossible, so the bells had been rung and preparations made for the cremation, which by temple law had to occur before the next dawn. Word spread like a whirling santana, and a strange, unnatural silence fell over the city. Those who looked for omens murmured uneasily—deaths at High Festival had always been few, and tradition said it foretold a bad winter. The faithful flocked to the temple early, to light candles for Enid’s journey to the next life.
Braan stood impassively while Elana related the story. It had been peaceful—she had simply stopped breathing. With a stiff nod, Braan led the group into the hall. The palace was full of attendants going about the business of preparing a quiet state funeral. Braan was aware of Elana leaving to be with the children. He felt wobbly, as if he might fall, and was glad he had somehow found the stone bench near the hall doors. Moran and Lyte had disappeared, and Ronüviel sat with him, millimeters away, her fingertips touching his wrist. The room was so very cold ...
“Seri? Braan?” He glanced up at his name. A young servant stood before him, her face red from weeping. “Do you wish to—view her—your wife’s body?”
Braan studied her a moment, and then slowly moved his head from side to side. “My wife died five years ago,” he answered softly, clearly. “And the period of mourning has gone on too long.” He realized he was standing and then walking through the bronze doors into the Hall of Mirrors. Without a backward glance he walked down the hall and out into the courtyard and beyond. He was scarcely aware of Kee setting, of the silence. Somehow he had expected grief, and the absence of it frightened him, horrified him. Had he grown so callous that he felt nothing at the death of his wife?
He found himself at the side entrance of the Mendülarion. Every side was nothing but stairs, and Braan started up them.
oOo
The huge chamber was ablaze with light. Every altar, shelf and crevice was filled with a candle, forcing the shadows into retreat. It was between services, the huge sixthday ceremony postponed for the wake before it. The altar was already set up, one tall unlit candle at its head, the eternal flame burning in a standing socket at its side. Braan walked to the dark wax column, not sure if anyone was in the temple and not really caring. Then he reached for a slender wooden taper. Moving to the huge fire basin now burning below the Nualan cross, he lit the taper.
The Nualan light ceremony was lost in their past, its beginnings shrouded by folklore and legend. But all knew its purpose—to light the paths of the dead on their last journey. Whether they went to paradise or tortured silence, all took the Last Path, all received a light ceremony. Braan reached over and lit the large beeswax candle and then stepped back to watch its glow illuminate the apse.
I have faced them five years and more, Braan thought. This is the last. I cannot face that ceremony. For me, you have been on the Path too long. Aloud he whispered, “You are free ... we are free.” He dumped the taper into the purifying fire basin and walked out the same door he had entered.
He stood a moment in the dying light of starset. Absently touching a tear on his cheek, he rushed down the stairs and onto the temple grounds.
Braan finally stopped running at the edge of the lake. The temple was hidden, and the tall trees of the meditation gardens blocked out all awareness of the city. Only the mountains were still visible, their heights lost in mist. There was a presence ... he found Zair next to him. The dog must have tracked him from the palace. He sat down at the edge of the clear, sand-bottomed reservoir, his thoughts drifting, his hand reaching out to touch the fleshy leaves of the weeping, succulent tree.
I cannot weep ... not really. It is release, my lady —from your prison, from my pain ... No longer will your spectral image float before Dylan and Asiai. May they remember you as our holograms record your loveliness.... Her face rose up before him, delicate, coolly remote, fair beyond health. It brought on a passing tenderness, of the life they had shared and of the passion he had carefully steered away from her memory. His gaze traveled to the first star of evening ...
Braan leaned back against the tree, the dog’s head in his arms, trying to clear his mind, to think of his sculpture, of anything except the anger and bitterness and despair that threatened to burst from him. He heard a tiny splash, a ripple, and glanced up. Perhaps fifteen meters away from him he saw a woman. He was blank, and then recognized her as the voyager who had arrived on the Gerrymander. Since she was staying at the temple, of course she could, and would, come here to swim.
Braan studied her slow movements and suspected she had been ill. That was not uncommon among first-time visitors. She must have tasted the water. Or—she was from the tratores. Perhaps an old addiction ... Her face was unlined, relaxed, as if she had cast away the problems that had driven her to Nuala. At least no deeper shadows were visible on her features. Suddenly Braan’s gaze widened, and he realized she had almost finished undressing. He hesitated. To speak now would not only startle but also probably embarrass her, off-worlders being notoriously self-conscious about their bodies. Better for her not to know. The artist in him took over, and he detached himself from his problems, from the scene. He was aware of beauty—scarcely aware of woman. Completely a warm honey bronze, the light from the rising moons flattering. A lamp treatment? No, he remembered her palms were a mere shade lighter. Mostly natural; and with the flawless teeth and blonde hair, from the Caprican system ...
Amazing how the light of the evening played tricks on the mind. Her legs seemed so long. She hesitated, poised on the edge, and then dived into the deep end of the small lake. Braan watched the ripples extend across the surface of the water, idly thinking it was dangerous to swim alone. Glancing at Zair, he saw that the contented beast was already asleep. He stretched out on his back, watching the stars peep out and become brighter, as if they were exploding, diffusing ...
oOo
Braan woke with a start, pain shooting through his leg. He gasped and threw up an arm for protection, aware of another’s cry of surprise. Zair leapt to his feet, growling menacingly in his throat. Braan rolled over and up and recognized in a flash the reflection of golden hair, shimmering from the water still trapped within it.
“Are you all right?” he asked, grabbing Zair’s choker chain.
She stifled a groan and quickly sat up. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?”
He realized her distress was genuine. “Nothing that will not mend on its own. You merely startled me out of a sound sleep. So the lake agrees with you?” he went on, his voice quiet.
“Oh - yes! I’ve never seen so much water before! It was so dry on our world—we had one public pool on the whole planet! We took sponge baths. I never dreamed of so much water just to look at!” She hesitated a second, and then spoke again. “Thank you for letting me stay. It’s almost impossible to be unhappy—“ she cut herself off; so someone had told her about Enid.
“It is all right,” Braan answered gently, pained for her embarrassment.
She looked away, steadying herself. Then she turned back to him, her direct gray gaze meeting his. “I am sorry.”
Suddenly another person was beside them. It was Ronüviel. “I could not come any sooner, I took the children from Elana and left them with Moran and Lyte. Moran has been through this before with his father....”
“I have been sleeping,” Braan said quickly. “Please assure this woman that my shins are sturdy and will not suffer from being soundly kicked. Teloa, my sister Ronüviel.”
Roe smiled. “We have met. Ignore him. He will try to make you feel guilty just to tease you.” Seeing that Braan had dealt with the situation, if only temporarily, she went on. “I hate to interrupt your meditation, but Baskh Atare needs you. We are summoned.”
Braan arched an eyebrow. “Does he know of our findings?”
“No.”
Braan stood, drawing both women to their feet. “Will you please excuse us?”
“Of course.” And they left Tay standing by the water while they headed back to the palace, Zair a dark shadow at their heels.
PALACE
COMPLINE
Baskh Atare sat carelessly, as he always did, the symbol of his birthright twinkling fitfully in the soft light. He did not touch it; unlike his predecessor, he never toyed with his chain of office. His full attention was on Roe, his deep green gaze boring into her, the square jaw jutting forward, the big vein in his forehead throbbing visibly. “Well?”
It was Braan who answered first. “The Nova was followed north, and on its return voyage as well. We were wrecked not by the storm but by sabotage, and our group was pursued across the ciedär and into wadeyo county. Only the presence of the off-worlders saved both Roe and me. I do not think two could have stopped a crazed Durite, weak and dying though he was.” Having gained the man’s undivided attention, Braan tonelessly narrated the findings of the trip. Baskh closed his eyes through the recitation, unnaturally quiet as Roe outlined the records and spoke of Tinyan, Carad and Quahna’s fears.
“I think I see a part of this,” Baskh said softly as the two trailed off. “Deveah’s paranoia has crossed from sadness into danger. After the festival we shall have him hospitalized and observed. That puts a large dent in Corymb’s plans. It was long before your births, my friends, but Corymb once attempted to unseat our house by popular vote. Now he tries other ways.” He straightened in his chair. “Something I have always worried about ... Do you not think that having our yearly air raid drill during festival is a good idea?”
Braan began to smile.
“When people are away from home, unfamiliar with area shelters?” Ronüviel paused. “Yes, I think it is an excellent idea.”
“We may have a tenday yet—or no days. I want no alarm, but that precaution I demand. Tomorrow morning, Amura time, planet-wide. Now ...” He gestured with fingers of dismissal. “I must think, and plan. It will be in my private memory bank in case ... something happens to me. You and your siblings shall all receive it in your homes, tonight or by prime.” He turned to Braan, who had stepped near the throne, and gripped his arm. “My sympathies, friend. At the least, you are both free. Tonight is the ceremony of family. Let us go and sing praise for what joys we have received.” He stood stiffly and indicated that they should follow him.
The bonfire behind the temple flared suddenly as they stepped out into the night. Ronüviel came up and slipped an arm around Braan as they stood motionless, watching the funeral pyre of Enid. They slowly moved toward the Mendülarion, where the balance of their family awaited them. Moran met them on the walkway, Asiai and Dylan clinging to him and trying to appear in control, as befitted royal children. The man was a little pale - Roe embraced him, knowing that memories of his father’s death haunted him. Then Braan lifted Asiai and, taking Dylan’s hand, followed Baskh Atare up the path and into the Mendülarion, the great hound Zair waiting patiently outside the door.
AMURA STREETS
FOURHUNDRED THIRTYTWODAY, 4952, TIERCE
Teloa was up early the last day of the festival, though Kee was already well into the sky when she finally left the temple complex. Elana had been harried as she brought Tay firstmeal, but she had promised to meet Tay in the market at the flower stand corner - at four bells? Teloa considered the meeting, and decided she had said four bells—tierce. The doctor had not volunteered any information about her uneasy state of mind. A direct question, however, revealed that all of her children had a childhood sickness, and a houseful of cranky little ones was not what Elana needed the day of elder ceremonies. She added that Arrez’s fourthwife, Chaka, was worse, but Shinar was with her. That assistance, as well as knowing that her son Kire would represent her family at the evening services, seemed to relieve Elana immensely. Tay’s offer to help was politely turned down, and Elana sent her off into the city with a gentle reminder not to eat or drink anything from the bazaar stalls.
oOo
Kee was bright in the autumnal morning and looked deceptively warm. Teloa pulled the woolen poncho close and was glad for the protection. Was it only sevenday ago that she had arrived on a sweltering summer day? Now winter was before them. Her idle walk into the center of town put her in the bazaar before she knew it. Color swirled before her eyes. Cloth, clothing, jewelry, leather goods, luxuries, foods and plants were heaped on every stall. Tay soon forgot what planet she was on in her delight at examining everything. Several dealers tried to interest her in foodstuffs, and one charming gentleman offered her a free glass of newly-pressed native grapes. She regretfully turned down the offer, thankful her illness had passed and desiring no reoccurrence. Elana had warned her to move slowly with Nualan foods. As if perceiving the situation, the man gaily told her to return “in a few days, when no touch of Nuala deters you!” He whirled to face his friends at the press, and Tay chuckled when she realized they were trying to empty last year’s wine bottles to make room for the first harvest.
She made her way to the flower corner, grateful the bazaar was one area that did not close en masse for the festival. There were stone benches near the roads’ intersection, and Teloa claimed one for her own. She was again aware of the admiring stares of several men and was surprised by it. The only women she had really seen were Elana and Ronüviel, and both had a unique beauty. She decided to watch other women to see if she was truly unusual or if it was only because of her blonde hair. True blondes, undyed and free of genetic tampering, were very rare.
The feeling of being observed was so intense, she turned around and found a tall, attractive blond behind her. He was dressed in an Axis Forces uniform and held an exotic flower in his hand. “You look much happier than the last time we met.”
She stared at him, her eyes cool, trying to place him. The launching bay, of course, but his tone hinted at another place.
He offered the flower to her. “Second Officer Lyte. We met at a private party on Pacra II.”
“I am Teloa.”
The warrior nodded, flashing an unexpectedly charming grin. “A new name, a new destiny—I’m glad for you. I always thought you deserved a lot more.”
Tay bristled inwardly, but the man appeared quite sincere. Her mind flashed back to Pacra II ... party? It was an experience, the celebration to end all celebrations. She had accompanied the crown prince, a stupid man but a pleasant host. Lyte had been ... “You were one of the crown prince’s bodyguards,” she said aloud.
Lyte laughed. “Like I said, you deserve much better. I can’t remember his name either. May I?” He gestured to the bench and, at her noncommittal reply, carefully sat down. “This is native to the planet. A firerose. Pretty, isn’t it?” He held it out to her again. “It’s all right—this is a no-strings-attached flower.”
Tay smiled. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still very tired and —”
“You’ve had enough of men telling you how beautiful you are and meaning something more.”
“Something like that.”
“Not even a simple, early dinner?”
“Not even dinner,” she replied, amused. “I can’t really eat the native food yet, anyway.”
“What’s wrong?” Tay stared at him blankly. “The tension is wound in you like a spring.” His bluntness disconcerted her, and she turned away. “It’s all right. Seriously, that’s not my standard line. I don’t mean to offend you, but I’m a trained sensitive, and I can’t just turn it off when I’m off-duty. I meant what I said. I’ve been riding hard through the desert for two days, these crazy Nualan timetables have me pacing nights and falling asleep in my soup, and you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time—you and this flower. I wanted to see them together.”
She wordlessly took the firerose from him. “Thank you,” she finally managed.
Lyte slowly stood. “I’ll be here for awhile, and probably back in thirty- or sixtyday. If you feel like a night on the town, find me. I may even find you. I’ll be able to take in the native restaurants when they open tomorrow, and I intend to ... Have a good festival.” He left, moving a bit stiffly, and Tay did not doubt his story about the desert. A confident man, one not threatened by rejection.
“You allow even that only on your own terms,” Tay whispered aloud.
“Allow what?” Tay glanced to one side to find Elana sitting down next to her. She was watching Lyte’s disappearing form. The off-worlder heard the sound of the great bell in the temple, tolling through the music of the carillon. “So you have met Lyte,” Elana went on. “A character, is he not?”
“A charming one.”
Elana smiled. “It is second—no, first nature with him! Shall we go see Lars, the head planter?” The joyful look on Tay’s face said all that Elana needed to hear. She gestured for the woman to follow her.
oOo
The fields were a soft russet, floating with the almost indiscernible haze of morning. The reflection from the parallel irrigation ditches was like a row of gemstones. Tay drank it all in, feeling the slower life style of the planters revolving around her. She was oblivious to the conversation between Elana and Lars. Huge mechanized implements were digging the furrows for the winter grain planting. It was a collective of sorts; why waste planters on things machines could do? Lars had greeted her with enthusiasm. His warmth had not disguised the probing nature of his conversation—it had been in the form of a test. Teloa was not concerned; she had not forgotten the feel of a seedling between her fingers, and it showed in her speech. She would be valuable here. The joy of that thought bit through her. She knew that finally she could work in experimentation, exploration, on the things she had briefly touched upon as an apprentice and despaired of ever doing again.
When Teloa looked to Elana, the doctor was smiling. “I must return to the city. It is lastday, and the Feast of the Elders. Since my family is ill I am allowed to miss services, but I should be with them!”
“Feast of the Elders?”
“Lastday is the time when the two oldest children of each sex in each family unit must go to a service of purification and thanksgiving. The first son and daughter are always dedicated to Mendülay, and the second son and daughter to the people. Arrez is first son, I second daughter. Only Arrez and Kire shall represent us. Next year! I took the liberty of asking the Atares to bring you back—there, Liel! Will you come here please?” Elana called. Turning to Teloa, she quickly whispered, “Kalith, Kavan and Liel are here for the Elder Day Feast, which is the official beginning of the harvest of grapes and berries and the time of blessing the new plantings. I think you will like them. They are still wild enough to have a good time—even during a solemn festival! And they see Enid’s death as a time to rejoice in the freedom of her soul, so do not worry about that.” At that moment the young Nualan woman came up to them. “Liel, this is Teloa, a newcomer to our world. The Serae Liel,” Elana said informally. Teloa was dismayed and looked it.
The youngest Atare laughed. “Liel is fine. You are a planter, I hear? I am also interested in the plants. We will make an afternoon of it!”
Even as she finished her speech, a strange, high-pitched noise began. It pulsated, like a foghorn, but was swifter and more penetrating.
Alarmed, Lars grabbed Teloa and Liel by an arm and started running down the irrigation ramp, Elana in close pursuit. “Quickly, to the raid shelters! This way!!” he shouted over the noise, dragging the half-paralyzed Teloa down a short flight of steps. With Elana’s help, he pulled her through a set of double doors and down another staircase. At the bottom they all halted to catch their breath, Tay folding to the floor. Although the doors were still open, more workers pouring in, the alert was now muffled, as if from a great distance.
Elana stooped to Tay, reaching as if to reassure her. “It is all right now, we are safe here, as safe as—“ She stopped when she realized the woman was calmly surveying her.
“I thought it was luna bombs. I couldn’t bear that again. But I can’t hear them. Anything else I can take, but not luna bombs ...” Teloa stared off then, her beautiful face blank. “The horror of those things ... When the whistling is so high-pitched it hurts - then our doom is upon us.” Elana raised her head and turned; the sound had changed to one constant tone. Then silence.
“That was the all clear,” Liel whispered. “It was a drill. I wondered if we might have it during festival, while everyone was in strange territory. We are safe.”
“Are we?” The planters looked at Tay, puzzled. “How do you know when it’s the real thing?”
“I suppose ...” Lars began. “The alarm will keep sounding ... until it is knocked out, or there is no one left to hear it.” He extended his hand to pull her to her feet. “We live with it. We do not dwell upon it.” Tay stood and started past the planters up the steps.
TEMPLE HEIGHTS
VESPERS
The star was low in the sky when Arrez finally started for the temple. Throwing up his hood, he hurried down the flagstone streets and into Oldtown, where the wealthier Nualans lived. The procession started at the foot of temple hill, and the catwalk was not working. The long way was necessary for appearances; the sight of the high priest charging down the grass knoll was not ceremonial. As he rushed down a hill, he saw at the bottom three figures. Two were in robes, and one wore the usual attire of a wealthy southerner. Arrez glanced up, and thought for a split second one was a priest—his robes were reflecting as Arrez’s did. Then, shocked, he stopped in his tracks.
The trio apparently did not see him. Arrez instinctively moved closer to the building, trying to catch its narrow shadow. He recognized the towner who faced him—Corymb. The other two were wrapped completely in their robes, bands tying a long strip to their heads. Arrez knew if he were closer, only the eyes would be visible. A white ciedär robe, and a beige one ... only one man or woman of the Ciedärlien wore white robes. The Dragoche ... Baakche, the Dragoche of the Ciedärlien clans. To think he would enter Amura! With his shadow, undoubtedly the current chief of security - his best assassin. The tall, white-robed figure turned and slowly continued down the hill, the slighter individual following. Corymb returned to his home, and soon the pathway was deserted except for Arrez. The priest stood frozen and then went on down the street. He had seen Corymb’s wife earlier, and she had told him Corymb felt unwell and would not be at services. Arrez could wait. And find Braan after services.