Brothers of Earth

by C. J. Cherryh

  "We have not crew enough to take him now," Kta muttered beneath his breath. "Would that we did! We would send that son of Yr's abominations down to Kalyt's green halls-amusement for Kalyt's scaly daughters. Light of heaven! If I had the whole of us this moment..."

  He did not, and fell silent with a grimness that had the pain of tears behind it. Kurt heard the nemet's voice shake, and feared for him before the witness of the men.

  XVI

  Tavi's dark blue sail billowed out and filled with the night wind, and Val t'Ran called out a hoarse order to the rowers to hold oars. The rhythm of wood and water cadenced to a halt, forty oars poised level over the water. Then with a direction from Val they came inboard with a single grate of wood, locked into place by the sweating rowers who rested at the benches.

  Somewhere Edrif still prowled the coast, but the Sufaki vessel had the disadvantage of having to seek, and the lower coast was rough, with many inlets that were possible for Tavi, a sleek, shallow-drafted longship, while Edrif, greater in oarage, must keep to slightly deeper waters.

  Now Tavi caught the wind, with the water sloughing rapidly under her hull. On her starboard side rose a great jagged spire against the night sky, sea-worn rock, warning of other rocks hi the black waters. The waves lapped audibly at the crag, but they skimmed past and skirted one on the left by a similarly scant margin.

  These were waters Kta knew. The crew stayed at the benches, ready but unfrightened by the closeness of the channel they ran.

  "Get below," Kta told Kurt. "You have been on your feet too long. I do not want to have to pull you a second time out of the sea. Get back from the rail."

  "Are we clear now?"

  'There is a straight course through these rocks and the wind is bearing us well down the center of it. Heaven favors us. Here, you are getting the spray where you are standing. Lun, take this man below before he perishes."

  The cabin was warm and close, and there was light, well-shielded from outside view. The old seaman guided him to the cot and bade him lie down. The heaving of the ship disoriented him in a way the sea had never done before. He fell into the cot, rousing himself only when Lun propped him up to set a mug of soup to his lips. He could not even manage it without shaking. Lun held it patiently, and the warmth of the soup filled his belly and spread to his limbs, pouring strength into him.

  He bade Lun prop his shoulders with blankets and give him a second cup. He was able to sit then partially erect, his hands cradling the steaming mug. He did not particularly want to drink it; it was the warmth he cherished, and the knowledge that it was there. He was careful not to fall asleep and spill it. From time to time he sipped at it. Lun sat nodding in the corner.

  The door opened with a gust of cold wind and Kta came in, shook the salt water from his cloak and gave it to Lun.

  "Soup here, sir," said Lun, prepared and gave him a cup of it, and Kta thanked him and sank down on the cot on the opposite side of the little cabin. Lun departed and closed the door quietly.

  Kurt stared for a long time at the wall, without the will left to face another round with Kta. At last Kta moved enough to drink, and let go his breath in a soft sigh of weariness.

  "Are you all right?" Kta asked him finally. He put gentleness in his question, which had been long absent from his voice.

  "I am all right."

  "The night is in our favor. I think we can clear this shore before Edrif realizes it."

  "Do we still go north?"

  "Yes. And with t'Tefur no doubt hard behind us."

  "Is there any chance we could take him?"

  "We have ten benches empty and no reliefs. Or do you expect me to kill the rest of my men?"

  Kurt flinched, a lowering of his eyes. He could not face an accounting now. He did not want the fight. He stared off elsewhere and took a sip of the soup to cover it.

  "I did not mean that against you," Kta said. "Kurt, these men left everything for my sake, left families and hearths with no hope of returning. They came to me in the night and begged me-begged me-to let them take me from Nephane, or I would have ended my life that night in spite of my father's wishes. Now I have left twelve of them dead on this shore. I am responsible for them, Kurt. My men are dead and I am alive. Of all of them, / survived."

  "I saved each of them," Kurt protested, "as long as I could. I did what I knew to do, Kta."

  Kta drank the rest of the soup as if he tasted nothing at all and set the cup aside. Then he sat quietly, his jaw knotted with muscle and his lips quivering. It passed.

  "My poor friend," said Kta at last. "I know. I know. There was a time I was not sure. I am sorry. Go to sleep.".

  "Upon that?"

  "What would you have me say?"

  "I wish I knew," Kurt said, and set his cup aside and laid his head on the blankets again. The warmth had settled into his bones now, and the aches began, the fever of burned skin, the fatigue of ravaged nerves.

  "Yhia eludes me," Kta said then. "Kurt, there must be reasons. I should have died, but they, who were in no danger of dying, they died. My hearth is dead and I should have died with it, but they-That is my anger, Kurt. I do not know why."

  From a human Kurt would have dismissed it as nonsensical; but from Kta, it was no little thing-not to know. It struck at everything the nemet believed. He looked at Kta, greatly pitying him.

  "You went among humans," said Kurt. "We are a chaotic people."

  "No," said Kta. "The whole of creation is patterned. We live in patterns. And I do not like the pattern I see now."

  "What is that?"

  "Death upon death, dying upon dead. None of us are safe save the dead. But what will become of us... is still in front of us."

  "You are too tired. Do your thinking in the morning, Kta. Things will seem better then."

  "What, and in the morning will they all be alive again? Will Indresul make peace with my nation and Elas be unharmed in Nephane? No. Tomorrow the same things will be true."

  "So may better things. Go to bed, Kta."

  Kta rose up suddenly, went and lit the prayer-light of the small bronze phusa that sat in its wood-and-bronze niche. The light of Phan illuminated the corner with its golden radiance and Kta knelt, sat on his heels and lifted his open palms.

  In a low voice he began the invocation of his Ancestors, and soon his voice faded and he rested with his hands in his lap. Just now it was an ability Kurt envied the religious nemet like Kta, like Mim, to feel physical pain no longer. The mind utterly concentrated first on the focus of the light and then beyond, reaching for what no man ever truly attained, but reaching.

  The stillness that had been in Elas came over the little cabin. There was the groaning of the timbers, the rush of water past the hull, the rocking of the sea. The quiet seeped inward. Kurt found it possible 'at last to close his eyes.

  He had slept some little time. He stirred, waking from some forgotten dream, and saw the prayer-light flickering on the last of its oil.

  Kta still sat as he had before.

  A chill struck him. He thought of Mim, dead before the phusa, and Kta's state of mind, and he sprang from bed. Kta's face and half-naked body glistened with sweat, though it was not even warm in the room. His eyes were closed, his hands loose in his lap, though every muscle in his body looked rigid.

  "Kta," Kurt called. Interruption of meditation was no trifling matter to a nemet, but he seized Kta's shoulders nonetheless.

  Kta shuddered and drew an audible breath.

  "Kta. Are you all right?"

  Kta let the breath go. His eyes opened. "Yes," he murmured thickly, tried to move and failed. "Help me up, Kurt."

  Kurt drew him up, steadied him on his deadened legs.

  After a moment the nemet ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair and straightened his shoulders.

  He did not speak further, only stumbled to his cot and fell in, eyes closed, as relaxed as a sleeping child. Kurt stood there staring down at him in some concern, and at last concluded that he was all right. He pul
led a blanket over Kta, put out the main light, but left the prayer-light to flicker out on its remaining oil. If it must be extinguished there were prayers which had to be said; and he knew them from hearing Mim say them, but it would be hypocrisy to speak them and offensive to Kta to omit them.

  He sought the refuge of his own bed and lay staring at the nemet's face in the almost-dark, remembering the invocation Kta had made of the Guardians of Elas, those mysterious and now angry spirits which protected the house. He did not believe in them, and yet felt a heaviness in the air when they had been invoked, and he wondered with what Kta's consciousness or subconscious had been in contact.

  He remembered the oracular computers of Alliance Central Command which analyzed, predicted, made policy... prophesied. He wondered if those machines and the nemet did not perceive some reason beyond rationality, if the machines men had built functioned because the nemet were right, because there was a pattern and the nemet came close to knowing it.

  He looked at Kta's face, peaceful and composed, and felt an irrational terror of him and his outraged Ancestors, as if whatever watched Elas was still alive and still powerful, beyond the power of men to control.

  But Kta slept with the face of innocence.

  Kurt braced himself as Lun heaved a bucket of seawater over him-cold, stinging with salt in his wounds, but a comfort to the soul. He was clean again, shaved, civilized. The man handed him a blanket and Kurt wrapped in it gratefully, not minding its rough texture next to his abused skin. Kta, leaning with his back against the rail, gave him a pitying look, his own bronze skin able to absorb Phan's burning rays without apparent harm, even the bruises he had suffered at the hands of the Tamurlin muted by his dusky complexion, his straight black hair drying in the wind to fell into its customary order, while Kurt's, lighter, sun-bleached now, was entirely unruly. Kta looked godlike and serenely undamaged, renewed by the morning's light, like a snake newly molted.

  "It looks terribly sensitive," Kta said, grimacing at the sunburn that bled at Kurt's knees and wrists and ankles. "Oil would help."

  "I will try some in a little while," Kurt said. He took his clothing and dressed, an offense to his fevered skin. He went clad this day only in the ctan. When there were no women present it was enough.

  "How long will it take us to reach the Isles?" Kurt asked of Kta, for Kta had given that as their first destination.

  Kta shrugged. "Another day, granted the favor of heaven and the ladies of the winds. There are dangers in these waters besides Edrif; Indresul has a colony to the west, Sidur Mel, with a fleet based there-a danger I do not care to wake. And even in the Isles, the great colony of Smethisan is dominated by the house of Lur, trade-rivals of Elas, and I would not trust them. But the Isle of Acturi is ruled by house-friends: I hope for port there."

  The canvas snapped overhead and Kta cast a look up at the sail, waved a signal back to Val. Tavi's crew hurried into action.

  "The gray ladies," said Kta, meaning the sky-sprites, "may not favor us for long. Sailors should speak respectfully of heaven and never take it for granted."

  "A change in the weather?"

  "For the worse." Kta wore a worried look, indicated a faint grayness at the very edge of the northern sky. "I had hoped to reach the Isles before that. Spring winds are uncertain, and that one blows right off the ice of the Yvorst Ome. We may feel the edge of it before the day is done."

  By midmorning Tavi's sail filled and hung slack by turns, Kta's ethereal ladies turning fickle. By noon the ship had taken on a queasy motion, almost without wind to stir her sail. Canvas snapped. Val bellowed orders to the deck crew, while Kta stood near the bow and looked balefully at the advancing bank of cloud.

  "You had better find heavier clothing," said Kta. "When the wind shifts, you will feel it in your bones."

  The clouds took on an ominous look now that they were closer. They came like a veil over the heavens, black-bottomed.

  "It will drive us back," Kurt observed.

  "We will gain what distance we can and fight to hold our position. You are not experienced in this; you have seen no storms such as the spring winds bring. You ought not to be on deck when it hits."

  By afternoon the northwest sky was utterly black, showing flashes of lightning out of it, and the wind was picking up in little puffs, uncertain at first, from this quarter and that.

  Kta looked at it and swore with feeling. "I think," he said, "that the demons of old Chteftikan sent it down on us for spite. Sufak is to leeward, with its hidden rocks. The only comfort is that Shan t'Tefur is nearer them, and if we go aground, he will have gone before us. Hya, you, man! Tkel! Take another hitch in that! Wish you to climb after it in the storm? I shall send you up after it."

  Tkel grinned, waved his understanding and caught quickly at the line to which he was clinging, for Tavi was suddenly beginning to experience heavy seas.

  "Kurt," said Kta, "be careful. This deck will be awash soon, and a wave could carry you overboard."

  "How do your men keep their footing?"

  "They do not move without need. You are no seaman, my friend. I wish you would go below. I would not have you entertaining Kalyt's green-eyed daughters tonight. I know not what their feelings may be about humans."

  Kurt knew the legend. Drowned sailors were held in the domain of Kalyt the Sea Father until proper rites could release their souls from bondage to the lustful sea-sprites and send them to their ancestral hearths.

  He took Kta's warning, but it was advice, not order, and he was not willing to go below. He walked off aft and suddenly a great swell made him lose his balance. He caught at the mast in time to save himself from pitching headlong into the rowers' pit. He refused to look back at Kta, humiliated enough. He found his balance again and walked carefully toward the low prominence of the cabin, taking refuge against its wall.

  Tavi was soon hard put to maintain her course against the seas. Her bow rose on the swells and her deck pitched alarmingly as she rode them down. Overhead the sky turned to premature twilight, and the wind carried the scent of rain.

  Then a great gust of wind scoured the sea and hit the ship. The spray kicked up, the bow awash as water broke over the ship's bronze-shod ram. Kurt wiped the stinging

  water from his eyes as sea and sky tilted insanely. He kept tight grip on the safety line. Tavi became a fragile wooden shell shrunk to miniature proportions against the waves that this morning had run so smoothly under her bow.

  Wood and rigging groaned as if the vessel was straining to hold together, and a torrent of water nearly swept Kurt oft his feet. Rain and salt water mixed in a ceaseless, blinding mist. In the shadowy sky lightning flashed and thunder boomed directly after, and Kurt flinched against the cabin wall, constantly expecting the ship not to surface after the next pitch downward or the breaking of spray across her deck. Thunder ripped overhead-lightning seemed close enough to take the very mast. His heart was in his throat already; at every crash of thunder he simply shut his eyes and expected to die. He had ridden out combat a dozen times. The fury of this little landbound sea was more awesome. He clung, half drowned, and shivered in the howling wind, and Kta's green-eyed sea-sprites seemed real and malevolently threatening, the depths yawning open and deadly, alternate with the sky beyond the rail. He could almost hear them singing in the wind.

  It was a measureless time before the rain ceased, but at last the clouds broke and the winds abated. To starboard through the haze of rain land appeared, the land they so much wanted to leave behind, a dim gray line, the stark cliffs and headlands of Sufak. Kta turned the helm over to Tkel and stood looking toward the east, wiping the rain from his face. The water streamed from his hair.

  "How much have we lost?" Kurt asked.

  Kta shrugged. "Considerable. Considerable. We must fight contrary winds, at least for the present. Spring is a constant struggle between south wind and north, and eventually south must win. It is a question of tune and heaven's good favor."

  "Heaven's good favor would hav
e prevented that storm," said Kurt. Cold limbs and exhaustion made him more acid than he was lately wont to be with Kta, but Kta was well-armored this day. He merely shrugged off the human cynicism.

  "How are we to know? Maybe we were going toward trouble and the wind blew us back to safety. Maybe the storm had nothing to do with us. A man should not be too conceited."

  Kurt gave him a peculiar look, and caught his balance as the sea's ebbing violence lifted Tavi's bow and lowered it again. It pleased him, even so, to find Kta straight-facedly laughing at him; so it had been in Elas, on evenings when they talked together, making light of their serious differences. It was good to know they could still do that.

  "Hya!" Val cried. "My lord Kta! Ship astern!"