GAREDOC
TWOHUNDRED TENDAY, VESPERS
Ronüviel stirred restlessly in her seat and stifled a yawn. It was not that she disapproved of the formalities. As far as baptisms went, it was remarkably relaxed and informal, without losing any of its dignity. But the last thirtyday had been exhausting, and the temptation to sleep was almost overwhelming. She had been up all night with the babies. Moran had helped her as he could, bringing them to her when she simply could not walk another step; he had changed, held and talked to them. But he could not feed them, and that was what they needed right now. At least she could feed them together.
The ceremony had reached the important part, the appointing of special guardians. Other than the naming, this was what the crowd wanted most to hear, and the two actions followed on each other’s heels. Ronüviel carefully sat up, still more tender than she would admit. Yet Elana had assured her that she was mending properly and swore she would bear again. But not right away—Nualan fertility was delicate and sporadic, and very few women bore children closer than three years apart. Having twins often pushed the time back further. Unfortunately Roe’s mother Ila had been an exception to the rule, having borne children as close as a year apart. Roe rather hoped she would take after her grandmother, Chandra, who took twenty-five years to bear her seven children.
Arrez now gestured to Moran to come take the eldest, his daughter. Moran carefully picked up the womanchild, breaking into his gentle smile at the sound of her coos. She tried to reach for his hair, but he quickly settled her into a low carry. Roe knew he was studying her eyes, already showing the blue and green marbling. These twins were the first children ever recorded with such irises.
The Ragäree smiled faintly. Only she and Moran knew who the guardians were, a prerogative of the parents; and they had talked long over many days to pick just the right child to go with each person. It expressed their hopes for both the child and the adult, each to gain insight from the experience. Moran was to offer the baby to the woman and indicate to the man to follow to the altar; the ancient symbols gave the nurturing to the woman and the protecting to the man, but Roe was grateful they could work interchangeably. Another onehundred fiftyday or so and Moran could start feeding them solids. And who was fiercer than the female katt when protecting her young?
Moran walked out to the huge group facing them, his glance touching every individual, looking for the godmother. He finally stopped in front of Jaacav and gave her his entreating, raised-eyebrow look. Jaac appeared to swallow; she had expected this, because of an off-hand remark of Roe’s. Then she carefully took the bundle, clearly wishing for the protector role. Rarely was the protector a woman or the nurturer a man, though it had been done before. By taking the baby she had agreed to the honor and the responsibility.
Then Moran turned to look several rows back, and gestured tentatively with a finger. Roe held her breath. Something had been wrong here for several moons, ever since Moran had become reconciled to remaining on Nuala without reprieve. After an argument with Moran loud enough to be heard two rooms away, Lyte had become silent, withdrawn, speaking at length only to Shinar. He still chatted with Roe as if nothing had happened, however. He seemed especially angry with Braan. Because Moran backed him and their friendship grew? She prayed he would not refuse. There was a long pause. Elana, sitting before Lyte’s aisle, was very uncomfortable, even pale.
The moment passed. Lyte gently moved the woman before him to one side and stepped out. The crowd released its breath. If only this opens up communication once again,Roe thought fleetingly. Days ago they had laughed over it, threatening to make Lyte her godfather both to give him a taste of responsibility for a woman and to keep him from seducing her when she was older. Lyte had passed it off with a smile—then.
Moran had returned for the manchild and, scooping him up, moved to enter the crowd. He had to walk back quite a few tiers, and the gathering parted like blown sand. Finally he reached the object of his search. Teloa blushed in her confusion, the color brushing her shoulders, neck and face like the touch of a master’s paintbrush. Her brilliant smile flashed out, and she joyously gathered up the tiny bundle. The baby immediately reached up and grabbed a long blonde curl. Tay followed Moran back down to the floor of the garedoc, her pleasure in the child evident. Moran was still searching the crowd, and spotting Braan in the corner near the altar indicated he should come forward.
Now the four were assembled in front of Arrez, and Samara, the sister of Roe’s grandmother, came toward them. Three women chose the names for the children: the mother, the eldest female of the Atare house, and one more relative of the mother’s choosing. Roe had chosen Liel. Nodding to Arrez, Samara’s rich, throaty contralto rolled out.
“Now comes the reason for our gathering, Brethren. Before Most Holy Mendülay and the people we declare these four people to have special bonds to our next chosen ones and announce the naming. They are named by tradition, and as always uniquely. The elder shall be Arien reb^Ronüviel Atare. ‘Arien’ is from the ancients, and means ‘free-flyer, high soarer, nightrider.’ The younger shall be Breeyan reb^Ronüviel Atare. The name, from the tiovi, means ‘star traveller,’ for it is said this one shall travel far before he comes to the throne of his ancestors.”
As Samara said the last words Roe glanced quickly to where Mariah had been sitting. That was the first thing the woman said, upon seeing the child: “This one must travel far, ’ere he finds his heart’s desire, and discovers the burden of the chain.” But Mariah was gone, and Elana too. Ronüviel frowned—this, of all things, was something the women would not want to miss. There was more to the ceremony—the baptism with water, the laying-on of hands and anointing with oil—but Roe’s mind was on other things, churning, the healer within suddenly terribly worried with a premonition she could not name.
NEW TEMPLE HEIGHTS
TWOHUNDRED ELEVENDAY, LAUDS (MOONSET)
Arrez stood at the entrance to the new temple heights, his grip on his polished wooden beads painful. He stared down the long corridor past the prayer niches to the upper cave opening; the picture window, as it was called. No starrise cut through the murkiness beyond. The last rain from the sea slanted toward the mountains, driving against the rocky overhand. The priest did not hear Ronüviel as she entered the hallway from the direction of the life shelter.
The woman moved slowly—what with the baptism, the twins and the operation she had just performed, she had found no rest. Her assistant was finishing in post-op; it was her task to talk to Arrez.
Finally the man turned his head, acknowledging her presence. “Well?” he asked, his voice mild. “It is early. Many children have been premature since the bombs fell. But you removed her from her room. What is it?”
Roe hesitated, her face bleak. “She lives.”
Arrez seemed to consider her choice of words. “The child?”
The woman shook her head negatively.
“Will there be others?”
“I do not think so.”
Arrez looked back out the picture window. Roe glanced toward the opening, wondering what he saw. “Is she awake?” he said at last. “Does she know?”
“Yes. She insisted on knowing everything. I think she has suspected since the beginning that it was her last. But we could not anticipate ...“
“It is all right, Ronüviel” was the gentle reply. “It is Mendülay’s will, no matter how we see it. At least he has spared my life’s blood. I am blessed.” There were tears in his voice. Silently touching his arm, Roe retreated to the life shelter, the man following.
Elana lay in silence, her eyes seeing nothing. Shinar stood near her, a tight, frightened expression on the young woman’s face. Arrez sat down on the edge of the bed. “Elana? Belaiss?” The endearment penetrated her fog. She blindly extended her arms for his. They sat that way a long time.
“It was a manchild,” Elana whispered.
AMURA HARBOR
TWOHUNDRED ELEVENDAY, TIERCE
Braan could not wait until the Nova’s gangplank was brought to rest. Grabbing hold of a piece of rigging hanging on the side, he pulled himself up and over the ship’s railing with a simple, fluid hand-over-hand action. Leaping over a barrel, he seized Gid in a hard embrace. “You missed the baptism.”
“You did not wait.”
“Wait? No word, and then you sneak around the point at night with no lanterns. The excuse had better be good.”
Gid laughed. “Something unexpected came up, and we had to make an unscheduled stop in Merigwin. I brought you a surprise.”
“Not a puppy, I hope.” Gid looked blank. “Zair’s lady friend whelped almost a dozen, and the owner wants to give me all but the two he promised Roe!”
“Well, I will take one, and you had better get one for the friend I brought you.” As he finished, at the opposite end of the moonraker a lovely, dark-haired young woman stepped out of the passenger’s cabin, a bundle in her arms.
Braan immediately leaned over to Gid. “I do not believe you. First you push your mother on me and now—”
“No, no! On the contrary! Not her—him!” The young woman came closer, nodding her fealty, and Braan suddenly recognized the band on her arm marking her a member of the practitioner’s guild, dealing with mothers and children. Shyly she opened the bundle with one hand. Braan did not move.
The square jaw and dimple in the chin had reached a third generation. And the intense, long-lashed eyes, staring at him, it seemed, were already hinting at the emerald green they would become. Braan extended a finger, which the tiny mite took hold of with an amazingly powerful grip. So small, as small as the twins.
“Atare, may I introduce you to Caran reb^Tinyan. He is not much of a talker but has quite a healthy set of lungs, considering he was sixtyday early. This is Defora, from the Merigwin chapter, who agreed to accompany us as nurse.” Gid was watching intently for a reaction. “Needless to point out my fathers are not his father. Tinyan originally wished for Arrez and Elana to take him, but Defora’s guild said she is expecting her own any moment.”
“She had it,” Braan managed to say. “It was born dead. Last night.” Defora went pale.
Gid winced. “As usual, my timing is superb. We will petition the elders—”
“No.” Braan carefully took the manchild from Defora. “Come. Both of you.”
NEW TEMPLE HEIGHTS
TWOHUNDRED ELEVENDAY, TIERCE
Roe did not know what to say. She had not intended to sit here with Elana and nurse her twins; it seemed cruel. But here was her friend, holding the womanchild, Arien, and actually suggesting she might function as a wet nurse for other women for a time. Roe was impressed and wondered how much was a brave front.
It was strange and yet relaxing to have Odelle with them. Corymb’s sister-daughter was only ninetyday from delivery. Many were delivering prematurely; she was therefore being watched very closely. Odelle was a high-strung woman— no, child—by nature, and this pregnancy only made things worse. It was extremely important to her to have a healthy boy or at least a healthy girl, but eventually a boy as well. She feared that she might not be able to carry more than once or twice, and Corymb was counting on her. Otherwise, he lost his position in the family, unless Dielaan voted to keep him, and would become merely another elder. Of course, there was no basis for her worry. The odds were the same for her as for any other 20. Roe wove her thoughts back into Odelle’s speech.
“It was a horrible dream. The infant had two heads, and both sexes and—” Odelle paused, shuddering. “I know, ridiculous, but I cannot rid myself of it. Maybe ...” Her voice dropped, and she looked quickly to see who was listening: “It is a punishment for the Dielaan’s sins.”
Shaking her head, Elana said, “Odelle, we cannot promise the child is not sini—the very thing that shields mother and child from each other keeps us from knowing such things. However, I can stake my reputation that it will not be sinishur.”
“You do not understand, Elana. Five generations ago my husband’s line had a mock sini—not serious, but the manchild was taken to Tolis. And neither his line nor my branch of Dielaan has yet produced a healer. We are not free!” There was agony in her voice. Roe said nothing. There were no guarantees—all paths were fraught with danger. Elana was a perfect example.
Shinar walked into the room, changing the subject. “The Nova is in, and Gid is on it. I heard they are coming this way.”
“Felt the baby move yet?” Odelle asked, suddenly looking mischievous.
Shinar made a face. “How would you like your black curls scattered from here to Seedar?” But she also laughed. Shinar had been so excited over the prospect of the baby, she was feeling movement at first with every ache and gas pain. Her peers enjoyed teasing her. Now she turned to her mother, trying to hide her concern. Until an hour ago, Shinar had not left Elana since the surgery. She had finally dragged Arrez off for some food.
“Why do you not go bother Kal?” Roe said. Shinar immediately looked as if she was going to object.
“I think that is a good idea, Shinar,” Elana said firmly. “He needs pestering, and you look too solemn.” Then her voice dropped to a tight whisper. “The best thing for all of us is to get busy with something right away. Please do.” Shinar reached over and hugged the woman, and then rushed out. Odelle raised her arms to take Arien, and the scientist gave her up. Elana then held her head high to prevent tears from escaping.
There was a knock at the apartment shield.
“Yes?” Roe asked.
“Ronüviel?” It was Gid’s voice.
“I will come out when I am done feeding Bree, just a—”
“We would rather come in if you do not mind. Just Braan and I and a lady friend.”
That piqued her curiosity. “Enter.” The three walked in, the young woman shy, at the rear, and clearly not Gid’s type. Roe turned a puzzled face to them and realized Braan was carrying not a bundle but a baby.
“I have brought a new playmate for the twins. This is Caran reb^Tinyan, and Defora is his travel nurse, from Merigwin.”
“A brother! Gid, how nice,” Elana said, her voice soft but clear. “Who is the father?”
“I am.” Braan paused, and then continued hurriedly. “Tinyan and her men originally wanted you and Arrez to take him, if you would, but they did not know you were expecting your own. Are you willing or interested in such a thing?” Elana stared at him. “It is traditional to at least reveal the mother’s request. If not, we shall petition the synod. Would you rather dismiss it to the elders or talk with Arrez first or—”
“Braan—” Roe did not know whether to be angry or afraid.
“We must determine if Defora is staying or returning home, depending on our own chapter’s ability to provide for the child. And—” Braan stopped his run-on. Elana said nothing but extended her arms for the squirming manchild. Braan hesitated only a second and then handed her the babe. The child stopped struggling, looking up at the woman with enormous eyes, and then snuggled closer, seeking a reassuring breast and meal.
“I realize that this is a sudden and monumental decision—” Braan started to say, and then saw tears falling on the blanket.
Roe had finished feeding Breeyan and, in one movement, secured her blouse and handed the manchild to a surprised Gid. Moving to Elana, she sat on the bed’s edge. “Elana ... Elana? Do not be upset, they will understand. It is—”
“Get Arrez.” Odelle had already slipped away, depositing the sleeping Arien in Braan’s arms. Elana did not speak again; only the silent tears gave any sign of her reaction. They waited, and presently an out-of-breath Arrez arrived. He took in the scene with a glance and then pulled up a stool next to the bed. Elana looked up at him, her eyes glazed with tears. “A boon has been asked, a charge laid upon us. This is Caran reb^Tinyan, brought to you and me by his half brother, Gid reb^Tinyan, and presented by his blood father. Shall we take up his life or shall we pass him to the elders?”
Arrez studied her face and then surveyed the child. “What say you?”
Elana sighed. “I rejoiced at the new chance at life and love we were offered; I cursed Mendülay when it was taken back and cursed myself for the words. For all we know, it is this one who has needed us all along.” She touched a dark infant curl, no longer facing Arrez, waiting.
“I have no objections. As you will,” Arrez answered.
Roe could see Elana’s tears beginning to fall again. “I think you will take them to their cradles,” Roe said, pushing Braan and Gid out the doorway. “Braan, put her down first. Make sure Gid knows how. I am sure this manchild is hungry ... and I think things will be all right.”
oOo
TWOHUNDRED ELEVENDAY, VESPERS
Braan slipped away from the garedoc gathering early, letting them temper joys and sorrows as they wished. Those who believed in signs from God debated the death of the high priest’s child against the arrival of Tinyan’s little one and the fact that the heir was the third in a row to have a name beginning with B. Of course three was a lucky number, yet purists argued that Tal bore the title a few moments. Braan left it all behind.
The guaard had brought word from off-planet contacts; Asiai had been found, and relocated with his dead wife Enid’s parents. For the time being, she was safe. It was a private joy to be shared only with Dylan. There would be time later to tell Ronüviel and the others.
Roe had stayed with Elana until starset and then finally retreated for the night to her husband’s arms. Elana, too, was exhausted; she was in pain, and afraid to take medication for fear it would contaminate her milk. She insisted that she could wait for Roe’s healing touch. Braan hoped she was sleeping. He made his way to the new temple heights, to look at Caran reb^Tinyan for himself.
The outer opening was merely beads, but no one answered his soft knock on the shield. He peeked in—the partition to the bedroom was closed. Leaving his guaard at the door, Braan quietly moved to the cradle. To his amazement, the babe was awake and aware of him, calmly sucking on his fist. Braan studied him a moment, and then carefully picked him up.
“You have been passed around like a bushel of vegetables, have you not?” Braan whispered softly to him. His voice did not frighten the manchild. Trustingly secure as he lay along Braan’s arm, his head fitting perfectly in the man’s palm, the infant reached up and out, attempting to seize the glittering chain of office. “You do not really want that—it is a pain in the ass. Believe me, I have been there. I cannot give you two names, but I shall give you what I can, the important things, if you want them. Then you will not need two names—one will be enough. And better than this chain; more. I know.”
So absorbed was he with the child he did not hear the bedroom partition open and close, or see Teloa pause, a little smile teasing at the corners of her lips as she watched them. The woman slipped off without comment, nodding to Arrez as they passed.
Braan heard the beads move, but did not look up. “If you will excuse me, I have to go eat. Your half brother is waiting for me, and right now he needs me more than you do.” Braan started to set the baby back down.
“Wait.” Arrez stepped forward, a smile lighting his face. He did not tease Braan about his presence there, however. They faced one another, not moving.
“Thank you,” Braan said in parting, extending the child to Arrez.
“Thank you,” the other replied, embracing the babe with long years of practice. Arrez stood there holding Caran a long time after his Atare had left.
ATARE’S PEAK
TWOHUNDRED TWELVEDAY, TIERCE
Braan settled himself more comfortably, his gaze never leaving the 3AV. For a second he drifted, more interested in the disappearing holographic images than the thoughts they conveyed. Then he admitted defeat, his attention moving to the voices in the private corridor. Dylan and Teloa. She was coming to the mid-morning meeting, and apparently Dylan had been shadowing her. Braan briefly wondered if the child was smitten by the woman or truly was that interested in planting. They did seem to like each other.
“He has been getting more attention lately than I have.” He immediately understood what he had said and hoped Tay had not heard.
“Dad?” Dylan peeked around the side of the stalagmite, not wishing to intrude. Teloa’s head followed.
Braan smiled and shut off the AV holographic machine. “I am feeling neglected,” Braan said faintly. “When are you going to come visit me?”
Dylan laughed and ran over to hug him. “We went to the pools yesterday! I cannot see you all the time because it gets—” Dylan stopped, suddenly aware of what he was saying.
“Yes? Boring?”
Dylan made a face. “All they do is talk, talk. Talk to you, talk at you, talk in front of you like you are not there! Until they want you to settle an argument.”
Braan laughed. “No one said being a ruler was fun all the time. So you like planting better? How about classes?”
“Tay makes it interesting!” Then Dylan looked worried. “I am keeping up my studies, really! I did all the reading up to next templeday!!”
“I believe you, I believe you!” Braan met Tay’s smile over the boy’s head. “I talked to Prinz, and he says in fifteen to twentyday you can go pick a pup from the lady hound’s litter. Do you think you can take care of a little puppy?” The boy’s eyes grew enormous. “I mean it —I shall confiscate it if you do not feed and brush and love it properly.” The boy’s head bobbed up and down vigorously. “All right, then it is settled. Go on.”
Dylan vanished, a flurry of feet skidding down the dark corridor and an earsplitting whoop at the lifts.
“Such joy! Prinz is going to run out of puppies!”
“I think they are all committed. He did not want to keep any, and it gives him a lot of pleasure to give them away, especially to children.”
“And you?”
Braan looked surprised and thoughtful.
“Or you can let Zair stay with you again and I’ll take one!”
Braan shook his head. “No, I think your danger is past, but I would like Zair to stay with you a little while longer. I would feel better about it.” She smiled graciously at this, and Braan felt fractionally unsettled, as if she was looking right through him. He was even more disturbed by the fact that he was upset. He reached languidly to pull out the 3AV.
“Bad news?” It was an honest question. As scripter, she would normally be one of the first to know; he had confided in her more than once.
“In a sense. The various com-net startexes we have monitored indicate tremendous pressure building up within the Axis—military secrets exposed, systems up in arms against the republic, attempts to make Nuala take the fall.” His voice sank to a whisper. “Tay, I am no longer sure we shall ever be able to reenter the Axis.” She said nothing; he looked up, his gaze piercing. “That is not for general hearing.”
“I am always discreet, Atare,” she answered formally. Irritated by a second of intimacy destroyed, Braan stood and paced to the large thermacontrol window, the first to be placed.
He touched its sill gently. “We have a chance. Several chances. The first we shall discuss today.” He was interrupted by pounding on his metal shield. “Enter.” Moran, Roe and Gid appeared, trooping past the two silent guaard, another guaard in tow. Braan smiled faintly. “I want a real door.”
“With a doorkeeper? The guaard will not take on anything extra. Some people do not have units yet, and you and Dylan have this to yourself!” Roe answered, amusement in her voice.
“That may change,” Braan replied. He gestured to the low chairs. “We have several people to wait for. Sit down. Did you ask Lyte?”
“He said, ‘No thankyou,’” Roe supplied.
Braan’s eyes narrowed. So—he had not imagined it. Lyte was angry and avoiding his friends.
Moran looked momentarily pained. “I’ll just lecture it to him later. He has no choice.”
By this time the sounds of other participants in the meeting came to their ears. Lars, the head planter, and his major assistant, Brett, were the first through the doorway, followed by Liel and Arrez. Liel was regaining her full spirits, jokes and good humor coming in rapid-fire order. The twins followed, and the gathering was gratified to see that Shinar had been with Kalith. Braan was unable to suppress a smile. He had seen them walking and talking earlier, and for a moment the past year was swept away and they were two young people reveling in the silent intensity of their love. Kal was trying to shake his inhibitions and come to some semblance of peace with himself, but it was difficult. While Kal took leave of Shinar, Kavan immediately took a seat, attentive to every word and movement. He had settled down, Braan reflected. Still the Atare temper, but he had better control over it. He took his responsibilities seriously. Jaac slipped in alone.
Finally Justinian and Url entered, the heads of the Synod. The couple brought with them the dignity of royalty, immediately formalizing the meeting. The two settled in on one couch. After they looked comfortable Arrez offered up a prayer. Then he looked expectantly at Braan.
Braan’s gaze took in the gathering. “I have called you all here to discuss our immediate course of action, and the general consequences if we do not move with purpose. Let no one leave confused.” He turned to Lars. “Can you explain this better than me?”
Lars coughed. He started to stand and then seemed to think better of it. Leaning back in his chair, he began to speak: “The winter harvest is stored, and we are preparing the seed grain for the summer crop, which, if the monsoons prove to be ended, will be planted this weekend. As everyone here has heard, several of our sister cities are in desperate need of food and seed grain. We are the major agricultural suppliers for this region and everything extending north. It is a heavy responsibility.”
“Was the harvest adequate?” Justinian asked.
“Adequate? Depending on how we look at it, yes. We produced enough grain to feed ourselves and eleven other population centers through this fall, and the rest of the seedgrain for this spring. Then there is the fall harvest.”
“And?” Arrez supplied.
“We can feed ourselves but not the other cities. Our farming was artificially controlled to produce that much food. We no longer have the means, and even with new land under cultivation, we do not have the seed. We will barely have seed to plant for winter, and it will produce a small crop. To spread things thinly is to provide an inadequate nutrition level for everyone.”
“Somehow I don’t think the people of Merigwin are going to lie down and starve peacefully. We are left with two choices; is that what you are suggesting? Find more food or be prepared for a global war to control what there is.” Teloa stared at Moran, amazed he could announce it so calmly.
“We have numerous tasks. Some will take time, such as rediscovering the farming skills of our ancestors,” Braan continued smoothly. “Lars and his fellow planters are convinced our soil can produce without chemical boosters and pesticides but that involves setting up a complicated crop rotation with tier planting, fertilization and a natural pesticide system. And, most importantly, getting new seed.”
“Smuggled?” Brett asked with enthusiasm. Liel’s smothered laughter and Braan’s smile immediately dashed his hopes of adventure.
“The rumors in the synod suggest you intend to deal with the Cied.” Justinian let his words hang in the air a moment. “Is this true? Is it wise? We are not sure the Cied have the added resources to help us. Or will be willing to—”
“The resources exist,” Gid interrupted. “Braan and I have spent considerable time in the ciedär, even the interior. And in the midst of that great desert lies an unimaginable oasis, created by the Ciedärlien planters. It is bounty in the midst of endless famine and feeds all the great and middle tribes with extra to barter, which they do on occasion. That land is the one thing their people do not fight over. I have seen it—it exists. And they protect it with their lives. Seed they will sell, for the right price. They, too, suffered from the attack, and acquiring material, weapons, metal, and housewares is difficult for them. They are not merchants or artisans—they depend on the coast for these things. Their farming secrets they may be more loath to give up, but it would amuse them to have us in their debt. I am not that proud, Justinian—I know what it is to go hungry.”
Lars cleared his throat, capturing their attention. “I agree with the Atare. We must go to the Cied, to the deep sand mountain Dragoche clan, to the Dragoche Baakche himself. We must deal with him one-on-one, with a representative of high standing with the Atare to act as emissary. The Cied call councils of tribal leaders, but they have no permanent, elected parliament—and recognize only one ruler. If we go representing separate tribes or houses, they will see that as a weakness. The fact we do not have a priest-king is bad enough for our bargaining position, or so records say.”
“We do.” Arrez did not look away from the window. “Just because he is not anointed a priest does not make him any less a servant of God.” Braan winced—the fact that there had been no coronation needed to be rectified as soon as possible.
“What do we have to offer the tribes?” Url asked.
“The usual—and more,” Braan answered, satisfied with what was coming out of the discussion. “I have already sent messages causing a temporary cessation of trade with the Cied. As Gid said, they are planters of the highest caliber, but they make nothing—no cloth, no weapons, no lasting abode. They barter for everything, specify their designs for material and weapons, rarely construct their own tents. They are trackers, hunters.” The Amurans shivered. The Cied ate meat. Not as much as off-world humans, but more than most Nualans.
“They also covet our metals. But can they not make what they have stretch an extra season or two and then take what they want when we are too weak to fight them?”
Braan smiled. “No. The Cied were hurt worse than us—their life is a harsh one, and their cities are dependent on the trade caravans. They will not change into craftmasters and city dwellers overnight. And they are Nualans—slavery disgusts them as it would you. They are people concerned with honor and duty to Mendülay above all things; and their own situation not far behind. They will help us. The questions are: How much? At what price? For how long? As friends or as taskmasters? And will they deal with Corymb, with Atare, or still someone else?”
“You mentioned ‘more.’ What do you have in mind, Braan?” Kavan asked.
“The Cied understanding of weapons is knives and swords, arrowtips to fight animals and one another.”
“A debatable difference,” Brett threw in. Lars hushed his assistant with a glance.
“I know that several Cied have been off-world in the last tenyear. Baakche’s heir is among them. The man Genuar is shrewd and intelligent—he understands the connection between the attack and the probable return of our enemies, I am certain ... or he can be made to see it. And the Fewhas will make Nuala totally their own, if they return. Even if they want our homes only for an outpost, they will sear the planet to a crisp first. We have the ability to protect the Cied. Tolis builds missiles, and the new shield. However, if we have to threaten to leave them unshielded, we will threaten.”
“We may not have to threaten. They remember prophecies from holy books we no longer read,” Arrez said cryptically.
“So it is plain that we must go to the Dragoche. I assume you have given thought as to who is to go?” Jaacav broke in smoothly.
“I know who is not going. You are not, my friend. You are the only one experienced enough to supervise the assembly of the shield, and we cannot wait the twentyday for you to finish. They must leave immediately. I hope for some aid from the tribes to increase this crop’s yield, not just the fall plantings.”
Jaac must have expected this, as she did not protest Braan’s decision. “You have found someone with my desert skills in condition to travel?” Her gaze at Roe was pointed.
“No. Roe needs a fortyday yet before she will gain her normal strength. We need someone with the equivalent authority to my own, since I doubt that the synod would be pleased with my leaving.”
“They would not,” Justinian replied just as easily.
“I was thinking Kalith and Kavan could go.” The young men straightened and tried to cover their astonishment. Braan went on quickly. “I feel the synod underestimates their ability to conduct state business, especially together. As a team they are practically unbeatable; and they were also on the last journey to Cied. I trust the experience is as engraved on their memories as it is on mine. They understand the protocol.”
“It would most likely be satisfactory, providing two elders selected by the synod accompanied them.”
“May I suggest the two be of personalities not averse to working through the Atares? We need no egos to salve on this trip. And myself—” Lars threw in.
“No. You’re too important here. I could just as easily go.” Everyone looked at Teloa. “I am Caprican, I was raised on a planet where the daytime temperature averaged forty degrees Celsius. I’ll learn the tricks of this desert quickly, and I know what questions to ask.”
Braan hesitated, unwilling to admit to himself how much her words frightened him.
“And Brett could go along, to insure we receive the proper amounts of each type of seed. Tay is not familiar with that part of our work, since our shipments have been cut back to almost nothing,” Lars offered. Brett immediately turned to Teloa, looking ridiculously pleased over the idea, totally missing the implications to his future as Lars’ assistant. Tay was facing Braan. The Atare let himself go only a moment, his encompassing gaze worried, and then the mask slipped up, his smile barely wavering. He took an intense dislike to the confident young planter Brett, recognized the jealousy, and mentally kicked himself.
“Jaac?” Braan forced out.
“Six warriors with planter skills, one of them guaard.”
“Six? Is that nec—”
“Yes, Justinian, six,” Jaac rushed on. “That is the minimum I shall allow, or I shall insist on the traditional Atare guaard. They shall be hard to placate as it is; they have been left in the dark too long.”
The idea alarmed both Justinian and Url. “We cannot have too many, it would look as if we were expecting treachery!”
“Agreed,” Braan interrupted. “We go to parley, not to fight. But we cannot be foolish. The tribes are never totally united, even behind the Dragoche, and we must not forget it for a second. Any less would not be prudent, any more not only asking for trouble but also a waste of warriors. If a group such as a Stigati tribe intends to attack, you would need a platoon to beat them off. I send these six only to have something between you and a knife in the dark.”
“It is settled, then? The synod shall choose the two this afternoon, and the chosen shall leave in the early morning,” Url said.
“Agreed.” But Braan knew he did not sound entirely pleased with the arrangement.
THE GROTTO
TWOHUNDRED THIRTEENDAY, PRIME
They sat quietly on the rocks, the watchers, as the last packs were secured on the hazelles. Roe looked up at the curving expanse of rock above them, a delicate rose-pink in the reflected light. Teloa had called the yawning opening “the grotto” from almost the very beginning, though it was truly the mouth of the western cavern. The name had stuck. The Atare woman looked over at Teloa, who was off to one side making her farewells to Zair and the akemmi. No wains were going; the long trek over the desert, most of it nothing but mountains and waves of sand, would be too much for their feet. No water could be spared for pets. The big hound whined softly as the Caprican scratched his ears; he knew something was wrong. Tikki scrambled off, vanishing in the brush. Dylan stood nearby, not as overjoyed as expected over gaining Zair’s company. He was fond of Tay and worried about her already.
Jaacav was with the half dozen warriors who were to accompany the group. Ronüviel could hear snatches of conversation and instruction. They carried side knives, a few clubs and Cied swords, and the group leader had a normally forbidden blaster. In the depths of the previous night Jaac had admitted her fears. She did not expect to see them ever again.
Roe could not accept it then, and believed it no more by the light of day. Studying the two elders chosen, Roe decided they were probably an adequate selection. Not distinguished, but honest, fairly objective, and able to keep their mouths shut during the bulk of the negotiations. If only Kal would spring back completely ... if only Brett would stop annoying Teloa. At least Roe would have found his pronounced attentions vexing. Teloa thought it was terribly amusing.
Kal had already said his good-byes and stood among the hazelles, his focus on the distant sea. Shinar had chosen to remain at Roe’s side and watched him thoughtfully. The warriors were helping the elders up on their hazelles and seeking their own mounts. Teloa now moved away from Dylan and the dog, starting down the path to the huddled beasts. Braan was standing between Roe’s perch and the road and reached out to touch Tay’s shoulder in passing. The woman hesitated.
“I have something for you,” Roe heard Braan say. “You may need it.” The man dipped into a pocket of his poncho and pulled out what Roe recognized as a hunting cat, a deadly knife used to skin tazelles, among other things. It was also known to even up the odds when one was cornered by a katt. It was in a case and had a strap attached.
“For me?” Tay was clearly surprised and puzzled.
“Never go far without a good knife and some rope,” Braan said briskly, opening the case with the flick of a finger to reveal knife, oil and stone. “Eon can carve the grip to your hand tonight. Do not allow it to rust in the case. Become familiar with it. There are many dangers in the ciedär.” Roe looked up to see Tay quietly studying him, and her expression indicated she saw beyond the words and the manner. For once Braan did not immediately move away and met the off-worlder’s gaze with his own. He closed the case and placed it in her right hand.
“Thank you.”
“Be careful.”
It was much later that Ronüviel asked Teloa what thought had moved her in those moments, for the woman’s final gesture had been unlike the restrained individual they knew. Yet it seemed so normal, so natural, for the scene. Tay had scrutinized him once again, her expression searching, and then had wordlessly reached up and caressed his cheek with her fingertips. Of all Nuala, only Lyte and Braan had patronized the tratores, and only they could know what that motion cost her. But Mercury 7 was in the past, and only a person well-trained in the tratore customs would remember long ago and worlds away. No citizens were present to mark boldness in the company of royalty.
The woman turned and hurried toward her hazelle. Mounting with the fluid grace of one familiar with four-legged transportation, she nodded to Eon, the palace guaard in charge of the group. A flick of his crop and his beast led off, the others falling in behind. Roe realized her knuckles were white from gripping her caftan and that she had reached for Braan’s sleeve without knowing it. The whole of the distant sea sparkled like silver in the starlight as Kee finally rose above the mountains; the travelers, however, were bathed in shadow as they hugged the rocky terrain, headed for the pass and to the east. Roe trembled in the rising breeze.
PAINTING ROCK, THE CIEDÄR
TWOHUNDRED SIXTEENDAY, PRIME
She sat as still as death, watching the star leap up over the farthest mountains and into the sky. It was the highest point in the region, this jumbled pile of rocks, and her sanctuary against the coming day. Teloa did not even allow herself to stretch; not long ago Brett had come up to join her and had been unable to find her among the boulders. The deception pleased Tay, and she wedged herself tighter into the crevice, reveling in the freedom. She tucked her water flask into her beige robes to protect it from the coming heat.
Three days they had ridden, following a caravan route. The land was blooming in the wake of the recent monsoons, a soft blue-green as far as the eye could see. The hazelles often had to be driven to keep them from eating too much of the fresh grass and foundering. She sighed, thinking about the hazelles. Each animal carried the personal effects and water of its rider, and soon she would have to go down to load her beast. Eon would probably help her, but she didn’t want to burden him. The packs were not heavy, just awkward.
Tay shifted, staring off north to the next pile of rocks, a mountain chain in miniature that was slowly wearing away to become more desert. A taller range was beyond them, lost in Nualan mist. The route was easy for those who knew the signs. Eon and Kal had taught them to her, and she amused herself by pacing the trip. This was the easy part, the part that was a day’s walk to each water source. But when they passed the painting rock, they reached the open desert, the great sands, which was what ciedär meant. After that every oasis and stone formation was found by following the stars—and to fail was to wander endlessly in the ever-changing dunes, until dehydration and starstroke made an end of the story. Then the small, water-seeking crustaceans and the drying winds took care of the rest ...
The twins were fond of this grotesquely carved place and had chosen it as a wind break. It was called the painting rock because of its major use—as a trysting place for tribes, most of which no longer existed. They met here, at the marker for what was once the edge of the sands, and traded wares, stories and information, fostering out their children for the season as well. Those Cied who chose to learn the trade of ceremonial recording then recounted the most important and impressive information on the rock surface itself, with colors ground from the various delicate berries that appeared just after each monsoon season.
The tribes were gone; even their language was dead and decipherable only by scholars. But the colors in the interior caves were as bright as the day they were crushed into new life, and certainly the rock did not care that the edge of the ciedär was now three days west of it. Tay had immediately preferred to be on it instead of next to it, the biomorphic cavern entrances reminding her of the sad eyes of some gigantic alien creature. But she had admired the paintings and the rising star long enough.
A sharp cry aroused her. It was harsh, a sound of anger and alarm. Fighting the urge to race back to the camp, Teloa slowly crawled toward the lip of the ledge, at the same time hooking the face veils on her Cied-like robe. She was unarmed except for the knife Braan gave her and unskilled at any other weapons. No matter what the problem was—a small crawly thing dropped down someone’s robe or a large predator—she would be no help and possibly in the way. Trying to calm her overactive imagination, Tay peered over the edge.
Worse than her fears. Large predators—human ones, or marginally human. Teloa at first thought they were the Cied traders the Amurans had passed the day before, but the robe markings were different. The traders’ hems and sideseams had been embroidered with an intricate black design—these Cied had a red pattern, bold and abstract, and confined to the hem and left side. She stared hard at the pattern, memorizing it before it was obliterated by blood.
She realized the odds were at least six to one, and had time to notice they had captured one of the Atares but killed without hesitation the warrior trying to free him. Then she saw the battle moving her way, and crawled back to her hiding place. Damn! Anything for a laser blaster in her hand. But it was not allowed—Eon had the only one.
oOo
The sounds of battle ceased. The star rose in the heavens, pulsating its power as the hot spell approached. It was not until vespers, however, when Kee had sunk into the Sonoma Mountains, that Teloa finally stirred. She crept again to the ledge, and saw several hazelles moving listlessly. There was no other movement. Standing, Tay looked as far as she could see in every direction. There was no sign of life. She slowly started down the rocks.
The fighting had shed enough blood to attract the krwb, the moisture-seeking creatures of the sand, and they had done their work well. Every single drop of fluid left in the corpses had been drawn out, an orgy of water, enough to last a troop of krwb the rest of their short lives. She could still recognize the victims by their clothes or hair. All six warriors were accounted for, the two elders and the planter Brett. Poor Brett, he had been so pleased to go on this trip and so interested in Teloa since she’d arrived.
“Tikki-tikki-tikki!”
Teloa spun about, the knife in her hand. Several hazelles were grazing nearby, and on top of one of them, perched among the packs, was Tikki. She flicked an ear at Tay, and twitched her whiskers. Teloa laughed in hysterical relief. “So you didn’t want to be left behind and decided to hide until the trouble was over?” Tay walked to the hazelles and extended an arm, the akemmi running up it to nestle in her hood. “Enough—we belong together.”
The hazelles were still hobbled, and after tracking down the food, Tay left them that way. Apparently Eon had been correct when he said that their small group would be of no interest to casual thieves; the packs were untouched and the bodies unsearched. She found five hazelles grazing in the area, three dead and her own trapped in a crevice, afraid to back out. The poor animal must have been in it all day, or the raiders would have taken it: the three missing beasts, along with her own, had been the best of the lot. Eon had mentioned Cied contempt for city-bred animals.
Tay settled in on a ledge, preferring to meet any enemies while on solid rock. Tikki helped to eat the dried seeds and fruits and wanted a tiny sip of water. Akemmis did not seem to need much fluid. As darkness fell, Teloa surveyed her domain and took stock of the situation. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, she felt very calm. Her steady family upbringing had prepared her for emergencies in a small farm community. This was merely one more emergency.
They had wanted the twins—alive—or several of the attackers would have not allowed themselves to be injured capturing them. Though not experienced, the young men had proven to be fierce fighters when cornered. The warriors had spent most of their time trying to defend the elders and Brett. Eleven of their enemies lay dead to attest to their skills against overwhelming odds. Teloa toyed with taking one of their robes and then discarded the idea. She had no way of knowing which tribes were currently friendly toward each other and which hostile, and had no intention of falsely allying herself. They came up so suddenly, the guard did not see them until the last moment. How did they know where to seek?
Tay sighed. The implications were not good. Someone had to tell them which of all possible routes would be taken. The question—to turn back or go on? No one would blame her if she went back; a stranger, unfamiliar with the terrain, no weapons or concrete directions. But if she went back, how long until another group left? If ever? No help would come for the current plantings, barely in the ground. And could an army brave the ciedär? She doubted it. Lack of water would defeat them, if nothing else.
“Is that all you can offer them, lady—to go back and starve with them?” Tay asked aloud. She shivered, expecting an answer from the ghosts of the dead men. She had not known them, except for Brett, and he was little to her. But she could mourn strong life ended prematurely. Not knowing the rituals of the Nualans by heart, she could only say a Qu’tai prayer for them and light a candle.
There were no candles. So she chose a torch, enough light for all of them, the Amurans and their enemies. She went deep into the wind-carved rock to light it, fearing the curious might come to inspect the glow. And as she sat inside the cave, the mournful, spectral Cied drawings staring back at her, Teloa made her decision.
She would go on. Discovering yesterday that she understood the dialect of at least one of the tribes gave her confidence. Her need to listen very closely, and the fact that she did not expect any words to sound a certain way, improved her chances for interpreting. She had actually ended up giving the formal farewells when Kalith realized her talent for language. And a tiny fear was growing within her: What if there were people who questioned why she had survived and the others had not? The desert seemed friendlier than her potential detractors. She would need two hazelles, one to ride and the next best for packing. The rest she’d cut loose and hope they’d find their way to a safer place. The food, water, all the swords—Eon said he would steer by the moons and two stars.
oOo
Teloa never did know (though the mythmakers later recorded it) about her part in the legends of the painting rock. The newest came from the Pecaio tribe, and they spoke in low awe and dread of the battle at the monolith, where much Cied blood was spilled and every enemy slain or taken. Since the Nuala do not believe in ghosts, the only explanation for the eerie glow illuminating every cavern was the presence of angels, sent by Mendülay, to light the paths of the dead.