A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  The sun, which I took on faith to be the same one I’d seen the day before, had chased my shadow to my back before I felt the trace of an answer. Instantly, I poured all my remaining strength into the tenuous contact, ignoring the clamminess of my palms. Rael!

  A flash of surprise, then a reassuring warmth accompanied her recognition, filling my perception. I could feel a path forming between us through the M’hir, becoming wider and more distinct with each input of power. Sira. But—

  Holding my half of the path open was draining me as though I’d cut a wrist and was watching my blood pour out on the soil. I tried to hurry my thought. You called me sister, Clanswoman. Promise you won’t betray me.

  Linked to mine through the M’hir, her thoughts were like a mountain pool, so exquisitely transparent that not even the depths were hidden, if I had the strength to search them. Sister- and heart-kin, Sira. Whatever your trouble, you know you can depend on me. Concern. You are fading.

  I’ve noticed that, I agreed wryly.

  Locate for me.

  Locate?

  I sensed her puzzlement echo my own, but she didn’t waste time. Open your thoughts to me. I’ll come to you. My distrust and suspicion were immediate and impossible to conceal. You must trust, if I’m to help you, Sister, Rael’s thought tone was blunt.

  I don’t know you, I said, wavering. You’re a stranger to me.

  Rael’s reply was tinged with impatience. There must be a thousand words for stranger in the explored galaxy. Let one of them be sister—I don’t care. All I know is to help you, I must be able to find you exactly and without error.

  I think my own rapidly growing fatigue was more convincing than her persuasion. I closed my eyes and opened the doors to my surface thoughts. Before I could drop more defenses, she said quickly: Enough, dear Sister.I have your location. Stay where you are. I must make ready.

  I need supplies, water, I sent through the fog suddenly muffling my thoughts. The contact was gone.

  With the warm sun beating down on me, I curled into a ball. Barriers restored, tucked down into the dry soft grass like a bird in a nest, I succumbed to the needs of my weary body and slept. What I could do for myself I had done. The next move was up to the stranger who called herself my kin.

  Chapter 23

  “I SHOULD have brought the galley’s servo unit.” Rael watched me eat with something approaching awe on her beautiful face. “I’ve had fosterlings who didn’t eat this much at a meal, and you know the calories children need when they are still holding that link to their parents.”

  Actually, I had no idea, so I grunted something apologetic, though I didn’t put down my cup of stew. Over its rim, I eyed her warily, a bit suspicious that Rael and her welcome provisions would disappear again as magically as they’d arrived. The tent fluttering gently in the cool evening breeze was another of her gifts.

  “I’ve learned to stock up while I can,” I said when I was at last as full as possible. “Thank you, Clanswoman.”

  Rael’s eyes darkened. “I have a name.”

  “I’m sorry, Rael,” and I meant it. She’d shown me nothing but kindness—demanding nothing, not even an explanation for my behavior, which I could see was a constant source of distress to her. “I’ve told you I can’t remember my past,” I said slowly, searchingly. “I’d like to remember you.”

  Although Rael offered no mental contact, there was a sense of leashed strength about her, an aliveness I could feel even without the visual impact of her vivid beauty.

  As much to break the binding growing between us as anything else, I said sharply: “But it’s hard for me to believe you and I are sisters. Look at you—and at me.” I waved a hand down over my curveless, lean body, still clad in oversized space coveralls from the Torquad.

  Her angry reaction surprised me. “You’ve learned to be cruel among the Humans.”

  The hurt in her voice and face made me uncomfortable. It was like kicking a Turrned. “Why do you say that?” I said, steeling myself against guilt. “It’s obvious we’re very different.”

  After a moment, Rael nodded graciously. Her long, white hand sketched a gesture I recognized, with a small shock, as one I had offered to Morgan unknowingly. “You should forgive me, dear Sira. I must constantly remind myself that you don’t understand what you’re saying.” It was Rael’s turn to look uneasy. “Which means I have a lot to explain. I wish we knew what happened to you. Are you certain you won’t let me examine your mind? I may not have Cenebar’s healing touch, but—”

  “No.” I shook my head for emphasis. “Oh, I believe you mean well enough, Rael. But what about others of your kind? I can’t take the risk.” I thought of Gistries and shivered. Never would I expose myself to that.

  Rael accepted my reply with a slow nod. “I might feel the same in your position. But don’t say my kind, Sira. Regardless of how you’ve been treated, you are still one of the M’hiray, the Clan. You’re not Human.” The last word seemed deliberately stressed. I bristled.

  “What’s wrong with Humans? If you hate them so much, why live among them?” I glared at her. “And why hate them at all?”

  “We live among Humans because we must. There aren’t enough of us to fill a world, let alone run its economy.” She paused. “Even if there were, it’s not the Clan way to live piled on top of one another. Power must travel to enhance the M’hir for all.” This last sounded like a rote lesson, but I thought I understood it. Had I not used pathways created by someone else’s power to arrive here? I tucked away the notion to consider later, not ready to leave the Human issue alone.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  Rael licked her lips and dropped her gaze from mine. “I don’t hate Humans. It’s much better to just ignore them, you know. Unfortunately, because of your—situation—I can’t do that. There’s Morgan.”

  “So?” If she were as adept at reading voices as minds, Rael should have heard the warning in mine. But she didn’t.

  “Because of Morgan, we must discuss certain delicate matters. Which I am not finding easy, Sira. There are things polite adults don’t discuss.” She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “Pella better not hear about this.”

  Then louder: “To begin with, you must understand that Human and Clan are distinct, regardless of how similar we appear to each other. And we must remain so.”

  If the tent had been taller, I’d have stood. I had to settle for an annoyed snort. “You’re as bad as Morgan for riddles. Say what you mean.”

  “Words are useless.”

  “Words must do.” I made this an ultimatum.

  “Your refusal to open to me is wasting time,” Rael sounded exasperated. “I can’t sense your feelings, Sira. I don’t know you!”

  “That makes things nicely even, then.” My smile probably contained every bit of the cruelty she’d accused me of earlier. “You’ve helped me. I’d like to understand your place in this, Rael. But I won’t let you near my thoughts.”

  Eyes that were dark, liquid pools regarded me with a strange sadness. “Then I will do what I can with words.” Her lip curled. “However inadequate.”

  I realized my advantage over the Clanswoman. She’d never needed to read expression; perhaps she couldn’t. Better still, I thought, she’d probably never needed to control her own. “Do your best, Rael,” I suggested.

  “This is such a dangerous time in your life, Sira,” she began, each sentence following an obvious effort. “You remain a Chooser. Because, for you, there isn’t to be Choice.” A flush rose into her cheeks, staining them a faint pink. “The Council examined every possible candidate; there’s none—not in the coming generation either. That was their so-called reason behind the decree to keep you from all but family.” She smiled, then sobered almost immediately. “In places, you’re somewhat of a legend.”

  Aggravated, I rubbed at the familiar ache between my eyes. Matters were rapidly becoming more, rather than less, confusing. I didn’t try to keep the ed
ge from my voice. “No wonder I preferred to be Human. It was certainly simpler,” I commented bitterly. “What’s a Chooser? What’s Choice? How can I be a legend? And by what right does this Council of yours order my life?”

  She waved her hands to slow my angry questioning. “This is impossible! I can’t communicate this way.” Rael was now distinctly red-faced. There was simply no guile in her. Emotions came and went across her expressive features with an openness I found comforting. At the moment, concern warred with confusion.

  She was the one needing reassurance, I realized, amazed. “I’m sorry, Rael,” I said, quite honestly. “Take your time. Tell me what you can. I’ll try to save my questions.”

  Rael let out a deep shuddering breath that had something of a sob to it. “I don’t know where I should start, Sira. You taught me, remember? No, I suppose you don’t. I’ve depended on you all my life—it hurts to see you like this, to have you distrust me, close your thoughts to me.

  “And all that time, plus years before I was born, you’ve been a Chooser. Now, you seem so young.” When I merely stared at her blankly, a smile twitched her lips. “Choosers don’t age until Choice is made, although no one’s remained unJoined as long as you have. Small compensation for being less than whole.”

  I thought of the image Morgan had found in Roraqk’s records, the image of a young Jarad and myself taken over a hundred years ago, and caught at the edge of an understanding that slipped away from me again. “How old am I?”

  Rael’s smile faded. “In what sense?”

  How could she make a simple question complex? “How long have I lived? How old am I?”

  “Well,” she said with an absentminded toss of her hair, “you’ve lived for,” she paused and thought about it, “100 standard years or so. As for how old a M’hiray is, that depends on how much of that time you’ve spent in the physiological lock of Choice. In your case, as I’ve said, you’ve been a Chooser for around seventy-five years. As humans calculate such things, I suppose you are somewhere around thirty years old. You will start from there and live out a normal life span once Chosen. Why do you want to know?”

  “Never mind,” I mumbled, unsure myself, my thoughts churning with half-understandings and obscure emotions. “If I was, am, this Chooser, then what was I waiting to choose? Why was I a prisoner?”

  “Your mind is too empty!” She wrung her hands together. “I don’t understand. Stasis doesn’t block so much. What have they done to you?” There were tears in her eyes again. “My poor sister. If you can’t remember the most basic facts of life, it’s no wonder you’ve forgotten me!”

  “Basic to you,” I reminded her grimly, “but not to me. What am I to Choose?” Somehow, I knew this was important. Without meaning to, I gripped her hands tightly, squeezing until my fingers bit into her softer skin. When I realized what I was doing, I let her go, ashamed.

  “Your power seeks its life-partner.” Rael looked at the marks my fingers left. Her face was anguished. “You used to be a gentle person.”

  “I’ve changed.” Morgan would have heard the pain in my voice—and understood. Rael took it another way.

  “The Human.” She said it like a curse.

  “Survival,” I countered just as harshly. “And if I was so gentle, why was I imprisoned? Why was I dropped on Auord with nothing but compulsions in my head?”

  From the shifting of her eyes, I knew she picked the easier question to answer. “You were never a prisoner. No matter what you think you remember. You agreed to be isolated.”

  “I agreed! Why?”

  “To protect the honor of our family. Yihtor’s shameless behavior brought enough disaster—”

  My face must have been as transparent as her own in that moment, for Rael’s voice trailed away, a startled look widening her eyes.

  “It always circles back to him,” I said bitterly. “What does he want from me, Rael? I’ve been kidnapped—and now marooned on this forsaken world—all by the mysterious Yihtor. Is it any wonder I distrust the very word Clan?”

  Rael’s eyes were like black holes in a white mask. “Yihtor is dead.”

  “Not this one.” I remembered Gistries and swallowed my sarcasm. “Yihtor is alive. Believe me, Rael.”

  “There’s some mistake, Sira. There was a terrible accident, not long after Council refused him. Yihtor was killed—so were others.”

  I raised a brow, for once feeling superior. “Believe what you choose, Rael. The Yihtor who inhabits this planet is far from dead and has caused me a great deal of grief already.”

  Her shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow. “What world is this?” A whisper.

  “Well, I hope it’s Acranam,” I replied, surprised she didn’t know. “I used the M’hir once since landing, but I—”

  “Acranam. It had to be.” Her voice rose. “Don’t you see—first Kurr, and now this dead name, both tied to this cursed place! Barac is coming here without realizing his danger!”

  Barac. The Clansman who paid Morgan to take me from Auord. And who was this Kurr? “You gave me your word,” I spat at her, furious and afraid at the same time. “Why would the Clansman come here unless you told him?”

  “I didn’t betray you, Sira,” Rael protested, her eyes darting around the tent as if expecting some loathsome creature to scuttle from under the blankets. She went on quickly: “Before I came to you, I left Barac a message to tell him I was taking responsibility for your safety, as is my right as closer kin. Barac’s brother Kurr was murderedas he passed through the Acranam system. Without you to search for, I know Barac will retrace Kurr’s journey in order to find his killer. He will bring the Fox here. And Barac will be killed, just like Kurr, if you’re right about Yihtor.”

  “Morgan’s Fox?” I repeated stupidly. “Next, I suppose you’ll tell me you brought Enforcers.”

  Rael leaned forward, her face pale, her voice low and intense. “What use would they be? If Yihtor faked his own death to turn renegade, we’ll need the Council itself to save us.” I’d thought her face expressive. Now, the ashen look of horror filling it was enough to make me shiver. “Sira! How could I be such a fool?”

  The Clanswoman started to pack up gear at a furious pace. In her frenzy, most missed the mouth of the bag. I intervened, pushing her out of the way. Rael said something incoherent, then: “We must leave here at once. Don’t you see? I used power to come here. I didn’t think there was any risk disturbing the M’hir.” Defensively, though I’d offered no reproof: “Barac’s good in his way, but he can’t follow M’hir trails. And you already knew I was coming.”

  “Was I better at things like that than Barac?” I asked absently, more concerned with a sack that wouldn’t swallow.

  Rael looked up. “How terrible to lose so much, Sira. To remember nothing of what you were or did.” I restrained the obvious reply and tugged the fastening closed. Rael shook her head sadly, hair tumbling over a shoulder. “You were better.” That was all she’d say.

  We worked together in silent haste, striking the tent and watching it fold into a tiny compactness. When done, we had all our gear in two packs carried by shoulder straps. I took both, finding their weight vastly reassuring. I was becoming satisfied by less and less each day. The darkness was broken only by the glimmer of unfamiliar stars. A light wind rustled the grass.

  “Where, or should I say what, now, Rael?” I asked.

  I’d startled her. “The Fox, Sira. Where else could we be safe? And I must warn Barac.”

  There was a way to chain her power, to stop her before she drew us into the M’hir. Knowledge erupted from within my mind and I acted swiftly. “No. I won’t.”

  Rael stood quiescent, though I sensed her probing at the unseen bonds I had formed around her mind. She sighed, a sound softer than the night breeze chilling my arms. “You asked me to compare your power to Barac’s. You should have asked me to compare you to yourself.”

  “What do you mean?” I whispered back, apprehensive of what she would say, though I
wasn’t sure why.

  “You aren’t merely stronger than Barac—or me. You are, or were, the most powerful individual ever born to our species, the crowning achievement of generations of deliberate and careful selection for power. As such, and a Chooser, you are the prize beyond hope for Yihtor, should he truly live.

  “Sister, let me take us from this world before he knows you’re here!”

  “He knows,” I told her, with utter certainty, identifying the whisper-thin mental presence nosing at the edge of my mind with sickening familiarity. “Remind me how to find my way through the M’hir and quickly, Rael, or neither of us will survive to warn anyone.”

  Chapter 24

  I’D lost Rael, or she’d lost me. It depended on your point of view, I decided. The taste of Yihtor’s probe had been enough to panic her completely; not that I’d been immune to fear myself, forced to see Gistries’ dying face at the merest hint of Yihtor’s presence. In our mutual desperation, I’d lowered my barriers to Rael in order to receive the information on passing form through the M’hir.

  And she’d managed to use the moment to break my control and leave me. To be charitable, I was sure Rael thought I’d have to follow her to the Fox and Barac. It was a very simple way to suicide, entering the M’hir without the clear visual image of a locate. I’d survived my first attempt only because power in the M’hir tended to follow existing paths, like water collecting into channels. My directionless power had slipped into the path Yihtor must have forged through his trips around his world.

  However, with its owner now alerted, I didn’t plan to tap that particular route again.

  With enough power, it was also possible to travel by targeting oneself at the dimpling of the M’hir surrounding an unshielded mind. Rael’s particular talent took that further, since she could send her image or form to where someone’s power had recently touched the M’hir.