The Boy from Ilysies

by Pearl North

  “Morning, bull calf,” said Vorain cheerfully. Then she caught herself. “I’m sorry. Po. Your name is Po, right?”

  His mouth too dry for words, Po nodded.

  “Right. Listen, don’t tell Selene I called you that, all right? I’m trying, you know?”

  He nodded again. “Of course,” he managed.

  “Anyway, I’ve just come from mucking out the goat pen and I reek. I’ve got to change before book study. In that tiny room, we’ll all faint from the fumes if I don’t. So please give my respects to everyone, and my apologies, and I’ll get there as soon as I can. Okay?”

  Po’s chest expanded with relief. “That’s all?”

  Vorain cocked her head at him. “Yeah. That’s it.”

  Po grinned. “Okay. I’ll tell them. Thanks!”

  Vorain found his reaction funny, but she nodded kindly as he ran off.

  Six months ago, on the day that Haly stood before the gates of the Libyrinth and declared the ground rules, she’d had them all count off, one after another, in a long, long line. It had taken an hour and a half and they’d had to go up to five hundred before starting over at one, but ever since then, thirty-threes had met with thirty-threes, ninety-eights with ninety-eights, and so on, for the purpose of studying The Book of the Night. Po was a forty-seven, and so was the Redeemer. Out of consideration for her busy schedule, they met in her office. Every week she, Po, Vorain, Mara, Jess, Tob, and Vinnais gathered to read from and discuss The Book of the Night. Or to argue, more often than not.

  Where Po came from, these kinds of conversations did not tend to occur so openly. Only intimates engaged in direct confrontation, as a rule. Though among themselves males were violently confrontational, that itself was the main feature of their inferior intellectual status. Certainly, a male would not be included in a discussion of ideas among women.

  When he arrived at the Redeemer’s office, most of the others were already gathered. Haly caught his eye and smiled at him. He fought his impulse to lower his eyes and he smiled back at her. Haly scanned the group. “Where is Vorain?”

  “She’s running late, Redeemer,” said Po, surprising himself and the others by directly answering the question. “She said for us to start without her.”

  Haly nodded. “Very well. Po, will you read today’s selection, pages forty-five and forty-six?”

  Because he rarely participated in the discussion, Haly made sure that Po was always the one to read aloud from The Book of the Night. He stood and opened his copy to the specified section.

  “She tells me that once this whole world was green. Not just in Ilysies or the other river valleys, but everywhere. Imagine the entire Plain of Ayor an unbroken stretch of green grass and wildflowers. It must have been so beautiful. I ask her why it is dry now, why the tallgrass is yellow and the great stands of silverleaf trees grow smaller every year.

  “She tells me that she and her friends broke this world. ‘It was our toy,’ she says. ‘We thought we could remake it to suit ourselves, but we are not engineers. We were never supposed to be able to do that in the first place, and we damaged the structures that make life here possible.

  “‘It will get worse,’ she says. ‘Every year brings this place closer to what it came from. If you do not kill each other off, if you live long enough, this world will continue to erode and your people will starve. You know what that’s like. You must teach them to refresh it for themselves.’

  “‘But how?’ I ask her. ‘We do not even know how to make Eggs and you will not tell me.’

  “‘Eggs! Enough about Eggs, Theselaides. Eggs are completely beside the point. You must stop taking everything so literally. Forget about Eggs. Only imagination can save you.’”

  Po stopped. “That’s the end of the entry,” he said.

  He looked at the others, searching their faces. All of them seemed to be as transported as he was by the image of the Plain of Ayor covered in green. “If what Endymion said is true—” Tob started, but Jess interrupted him before he could finish.

  “If the land was green once, then it could be green again.”

  “She said they damaged the structures that make life here possible,” said Vinnais. “What does that mean?”

  “It implies that whatever was here to begin with was lifeless by nature, and something was done to it to support life,” noted Jess.

  Haly and several others nodded. “I have read about terra-forming,” said Haly. “The idea is that you can take a barren rock floating in space, and make of it a lush world full of life.”

  “Nothing grows in rock,” said Vinnais. “It’s impossible.”

  “When it comes to the Ancients, I should think we’d all know better by now than to expect them to stop at what is possible,” said Haly.

  “Redeemer, do you think the Ancients created this world out of an asteroid?” asked Mara.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How do we know she was telling him the truth?” said Tob. “How do we know the green world is not a lie?”

  Mara said, “We Ayorites have a story about a time when the whole of the Plain of Ayor was green. It is said that there was a special flower that grew in rock, which made all the other plants grow. But then one day the lion ate them all and since then, the land has been brown and dry, just like the lion’s pelt.”

  At this Po started. He opened his mouth, then changed his mind. “Po,” said Haly. “What? What were you about to say?”

  He stared at her wide-eyed. He bit his lip, staring at the rest of them. “It’s nothing. It’s just a story an old man told me once. I’m sure it’s not important.”

  “Let us decide that, Po,” said Haly.

  “Yeah, let us decide,” added Mara.

  Po took a deep breath. “Once, there were only women, and all the world was as green as a lowland Ilysian barley farm in spring. The reason the land was so lush was that a flower called the Lion’s Bloom gave off a pollen that fertilized everything it touched. These flowers grew everywhere; but one day, they fell in love with the women, and they dug themselves out of the ground and turned into men. Without the Lion’s Bloom to keep the land fertile, it became dry and barren. According to this story, the reason Ilysies is still green is because every year a man is sacrificed, and that returns the generative properties he possessed as a plant back to the land.”

  When he finished, everyone was silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Sacrificed?” said Mara.

  Po nodded. Didn’t they know of this?

  Vorain blushed fiercely; Vinnais and Tob looked uncomfortable; and Haly, Mara, and Jess exchanged a look that Po could not quite decipher. At length, Haly said, “Thank you, Po. You’ve given us all a lot to think about.”

  Would Haly decide to adopt the ritual of sacrifice in order to make the land fertile here? She caught his look. “I do not think we want to take the story too literally,” she said. “But there are some remarkable similarities between this tale and Mara’s. If, as has been suggested, this world was once an asteroid, and underwent terra-forming, then this Lion’s Bloom may be a reference to that. For next week, everyone scour their copies of The Book of the Night for any references to terra-forming, the lion, flowers, or the Lion’s Bloom.” She stood. “Thank you all again, and have a good week.”

  For the rest of the day, Po was aglow with the knowledge that he’d contributed something the Redeemer felt was useful. The idea of turning the barren plain fertile captivated his imagination, as it did the rest of those who had been present at the meeting, and by dinnertime, the entire dining hall was buzzing with the news.

  Po scanned the room, searching for Ithalia. It was silly, because if she was here and she didn’t approach him, what was he going to do? Just because he’d repeated an old goat’s tale to the Redeemer and it had turned out to be useful didn’t mean he was about to start pressing his company on women. But there was no sign of her, at any rate.

  “Po!”

  It was Hilloa, waving him over to where she sat with
her friends. He smiled and joined them. It was nice to talk with them now, without the pressure of trying to impress them as a potential consort. They were full of questions about the book discussion, and about the Ilysian practice of male sacrifice.

  “It’s just once a year,” he explained to them. That didn’t seem to make them feel better about it. “And the male is showered with luxuries for the whole year leading up to it.”

  “Like a goat fattened for slaughter,” said Hilloa.

  “Exactly!” said Po.

  They all stared at him. Hilloa said, “What about this idea of terra-forming?”

  “I’ve been reading that section,” said Bethe. “And these books, too.” She pointed to the stack at her elbow. “Most of the references anybody’s found to the practice are fictional, but this”—she lifted a thick manual entitled Guidelines and Methodologies for the Settlement of Mars—“is not. It’s proof that it’s been done before.”

  “But what did she mean when she said this world needs to be renewed?”

  “Well, sacrifice is a way of renewing the land,” Po surprised himself by offering.

  Hilloa rolled her eyes. “Come on, Po. You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  If it wasn’t true, then all those men died for no reason. It had to be true. But he said, “Of course not.”

  “Come on,” said Jaen. “Siblea is giving a recital on nanotechnology in the Great Hall. If we dawdle, we’ll miss the beginning.”

  They all got up. Hilloa turned to him. “Are you coming?”

  He hesitated. It was nice to be asked. But he hated Siblea, and he had no interest in a long, boring song about molecular machines and, he suspected, neither would Ithalia. If he set off for the infirmary now, he’d be passing through the Ilysian quarter at just the time that most women hung out by their fires, drinking and chatting. Maybe he would “accidentally” run into her. “Um. No, thank you. But…thanks for asking.”

  9

  Village Life

  He was nearly at the infirmary, on the very outskirts of the Ilysian section of Tent Town, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, cute boy, got a minute for an old soldier?”

  His heart, which had been steadily sinking as he walked through the town and found no sign of Ithalia, rose up and he turned, grinning.

  It was dark. They were in a little space between tents and there was only enough light to catch the gleam of her eye and the white of her teeth, but it was her. He knew by her voice and her fragrance. “Ithalia.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been scarce, calfling. I’m on the crew for the windmill project and they’ve got us working around the clock. I don’t have much time, but I didn’t want you to think I’d thrown you over.”

  Her arms encircled his waist and he felt wrapped in glory. His doubts and fears seemed so silly now. How foolish of him to doubt the generosity of a universe that held one such as Ithalia in it, and which gifted him with her regard. He hugged her back and she kissed him. The taste of her made his head swim. He was aflame for her. He stroked her back and held her close, one hand twined in her hair. She shifted, adjusting their positions to savor the full extent of his desire. She took his hand from her back and eased it between them, and down. “Quick now, my love, but later, after your work is done, come to my tent again, and we will take our time with each other.”

  When Po entered the infirmary, he felt as if the joy burning inside him must overshadow even the electric lights overhead. He’d only felt this way once before in his life, at the Redemption. Now it all came back to him, and he wondered how he could have forgotten. There was nothing between himself and everything he might ever want in the world. All obstacles had been removed by the simple expedient of him being happy with who he already was. It was easy because it was now a demonstrated fact that he was a perfectly good thing to be. Better than good—wonderful. Everything that had once seemed difficult was now simple.

  Burke looked up and saw him. Her eyes widened in surprise and then she answered his grin with her own. “Hello, Po.”

  When he took Yolle’s feet in his hands and prepared to attempt kinesiology, he thought, Just try. That’s all you have to do.

  He breathed with her. For a long time, that was all he did. When his mind drifted, he returned his attention to their breath, and he visualized his hands merging with her feet.

  Something squeezed his abdomen. The pressure made it hard for him to breathe. At the same time, a dull ache throbbed just below his rib cage. It was her pain and he fought the impulse to back off from it, to break contact with Yolle. He kept breathing with her, the slow, labored breaths now in keeping with the pressure he felt, as if heavy weights pressed down on his rib cage and belly. To his mind’s eye came an image of sickly yellow flowers covering an ancient tree. The flowers twined around the trunk and branches of the tree and squeezed, choking the life out of it. The leaves of the tree turned brown and fell to the ground. Its limbs withered.

  Po searched for something to kill the vine, but the ground around the tree was bare. There was nothing. He reached out and grasped the vine. When he tried to pull it off the tree, the bark came away with it and hot red pain lanced through them. He stopped. He went back to the breath again, and just sat, observing. Nothing else came.

  From a distance, he felt something on his shoulder, a bird that was resting there. It chirped. “Po. Po. Po.” All at once the bird grew, and the tree and the vine faded away, and with them the pain. Po blinked. He was in the infirmary tent, kneeling at Yolle’s feet, and Burke stood over him. Behind her, through the open doorway of the infirmary tent, the sky was the deep blue of early dawn. “Po,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  Po took a deep breath and released Yolle’s feet. He looked at her. She watched him, a faint smile on her face. “You did it,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I…I couldn’t…There’s nothing.”

  “I know that,” she said, “but you were with me.”

  Burke looked between the two of them. “Did you—?”

  “Yes,” said Yolle.

  The full realization hit him. He had performed kinesiology. His lips curved in a smile at the knowledge, and he quickly suppressed it. His abilities had manifested at last, but there was still no cure for Yolle.

  She reached for him and he gave her his hand. “Be glad. You will be able to help many, many people.”

  “You seemed to be in a trance,” said Burke. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I lay down and I must have fallen asleep. Then I heard you cry out.”

  That was when he had tried to destroy the little lion inside.

  “I hurt you,” said Po. “I’m sorry.”

  Yolle shook her head. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Po blinked. His surroundings wobbled. Sudden exhaustion swept over him like an incoming tide. He sat down abruptly. Outside, the community began to stir. Ithalia. She’d been waiting for him. He hadn’t come. He’d better find her and explain. He struggled to get to his feet.

  Burke took his arm and steadied him. “Over here,” she said, steering him toward the cot next to Yolle’s.

  Po shook his head. “I have to find Ithalia. She was waiting. I don’t want her to think I stayed away on purpose.”

  “Whoever that is, you can tell her later,” said Burke. “You’re dead on your feet. Lie down.”

  He didn’t have the wherewithal to resist her. He sat on the bed and she brought him a cup of water. He drank it.

  “I don’t know much about kinesiology,” said Burke, “but Ykobos did tell me how physically taxing it can be. This was your first time, and you were in a trance for hours. I don’t think you’re supposed to try to do so much right off the bat. Lie down. Get some rest. I’ll send word to Selene that you’re missing your work shift this morning, and why.”

  Po wanted to resist. He wanted to go find Ithalia, to tell her the good news and to make sure she understood why he hadn’t come to her. But somehow, he wound up lying on his side, and Burke pulled a bla
nket over him. He let his eyes close.

  When he woke, it was late afternoon. Po scrambled up, straightened his disheveled robe, and made for the door. He would like to bathe before seeking Ithalia out, but he did not want to delay his explanation a moment longer than he already had.

  “Po,” said Burke, looking up from a book she was reading. “Why are you rushing off?”

  He stopped in the doorway. “I had an appointment with my…my consort last night.” Was it okay to refer to Ithalia as his consort? That’s what she was, right? “I have to find her and explain what happened.”

  “You have a…girlfriend now?”

  Po hesitated. “I don’t know if I’d use that term….”

  Burke laughed. “Never mind. Go to her. I told your afternoon work-shift members what happened and that you are recuperating. You’re free from any duties today.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m going to be getting a lot of work out of you now.”

  His chest expanded with a warm glow. This was what it felt like to be useful. He ran out in search of Ithalia.

  And he found her just outside her tent. She had her back to him and she was mending an adze. “Ithalia,” he called, running up to her. “I’m so sorry about last night, Ithalia. I…Something happened. My kinesthetic sense came in!”

  She turned. Once again, she wore the scarf over her face. She looked at him blankly for a moment and then her cheeks rose in a smile. What did her mouth look like when she did that? “Ah. Is that why—”

  “Why I didn’t come last night? Yes. I went into a trance. I lost track of the time. When I came out of it, it was almost dawn and I wanted to come to you right away, but Burke made me lie down and I fell asleep and I slept all the way through until right now.” He dropped to his knees. “Ithalia, I am so sorry.”

  She tilted her head and looked down at him, fondness shining in her eyes. “Oh, Po. If that is why you did not come to me last night, then do not give it another thought. And let me be among the first to congratulate you. You really are a most remarkable male.” She reached down and took his arm. “An adept, even a male one, should not kneel to a simple soldier. Not for such cause as this.”