by Shannah Jay
He was looking at the ground, not at her. 'I thought you might say that.'
She hadn’t removed her hand. 'Dear Ivo, I'm very fond of you - as if you were a younger brother - and that's all it can ever be. I'm from a - a different place, and I hope to go back there one day. I don't want to stay in the Twelve Claims for the rest of my life.' She broke off as people started calling to one another and hurrying off towards the tiny boat harbour.
'Want to go and see what's happening?' he asked, glad of the interruption. 'It can't be anything bad, because they look excited and they're taking the children with them.'
'What about our goods?'
'No one will touch them with our deleff nearby. They probably wouldn't touch them anyway. Most fisherfolk are very honest, even if they do drive hard bargains.'
'Not as hard bargains as you drive.'
A grin crept over his face. 'I did do rather well today, I thought. Even Pa couldn't have done much better.'
'He'd be really pleased with you - though he'd never admit it.'
They followed the crowd down to the harbour. When they got there, Soo stopped dead in her tracks, clasped Ivo's arm and said hoarsely, 'It's Davred!'
'What?' Ivo stared at her. 'I thought your husband's name was Mak?'
'It's not my husband. It's someone else, someone I've known for years, a very close friend. What's he doing here?' She started trying to push through the crowd, still clutching Ivo's arm. 'Let me through! Please! Let me through!'
He pulled her behind him and took the lead, bouncing folk gently aside with good-humoured apologies.
At the harbour wall two fishing smacks were unloading goods rapidly, mostly dried fish and other sea delicacies, but there were also some beautiful carved pieces of black basalt for sale. Toys or ornaments for those who had a little coin to spare. On one of the boats, a figure was standing apart from the others watching everything, eyes shaded against the glare of the setting sun.
'Davred! Davred!'
The man turned in their direction, a frown on his face, his whole stance suggesting he was expecting an attack. When he saw who was pushing through the crowd, however, his mouth fell open in shock.
Herra came up to join him. 'What's the matter, Davred?'
But he didn't answer. Leaping over the side of the boat on to the quayside, he ran to throw his arms round Soo, who was sobbing in delight.
Ivo stood watching, feeling awkward and left out. He didn't know who this man was, only that it wasn't Soo's husband. He'd have given his soul to have her look at him like that, though, with such deep affection.
Lannith nudged Ivo's elbow. 'Who's the man on the boat? Your wife seems uncommon fond of him.'
'I don't know. She said it was an old friend.'
Soo was weeping on Davred's chest, and it wasn’t until Herra touched her shoulder that she realised how public the place was and how people were staring at her.
'Shall we go below?' Herra asked gently. 'You two will have a lot to talk about.'
Soo nodded, sniffed away the tears and turned to beckon to Ivo, who surely deserved an explanation.
CHAPTER 18 LORD OF THE SERPENT
Robler watched the ceremony in the Inner Shrine come to an end, feeling breathless and excited in a way he had never experienced before. He caused a light to flicker briefly over the huge carved wooden Serpent that reared up high above the black altar that took up the whole of one side of the Inner Shrine.
Sen-Sether looked up. 'Our dread Lord calls me,' he said, handing the blood-stained knife and whip to one of the Initiates. 'Take that away!' He gestured to the man's corpse that lay sprawled across the altar, its face frozen in its last minutes of life into a contorted mask of agony.
The Initiates all bowed and left the Inner Shrine.
Sen-Sether bowed his head to hide the triumph on his face. The being whom he now thought of as the Avatar, the Serpent come down among them, had spoken to him a few times and sent down strange baubles to adorn the shrine. One was a flat black box that brought the voice of the Avatar clearly to his ears. So far he hadn’t allowed others to speak to this being. So far, the voice hadn’t asked for others to join them. 'Dread my Lord?' he murmured. 'I await your commands.'
'You are a worthy Lord of the Inner Shrine,' said Robler. 'Worthy of more.'
'Is there more?'
'Oh, yes. Of all the Inner Shrines, yours is the most satisfying to visit.' For the first time, as Robler said those words, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was almost as if there really were a Serpent God, and he were its voice. Strange, how enticing the idea was. The primitives could be very cunning with their religions.
'I’m honoured to serve you, dread my lord.' Sen-Sether's quiet voice broke into his musings.
'Then serve me now, for only you can do this task.'
'Command me, lord.' Sen-Sether waited patiently, feeling a pulsing of power in his loins. What did this portend? What now would the Serpent ask of him?
The Avatar's voice was thick with hatred. 'I've found out where Davred and Herra are.'
'Aaah!' Sen-Sether could not keep the edge of triumph from his voice. Of all he had ever sought in life, Herra's death was the thing he desired most. It would be the ultimate triumph over the Sisterhood, desirable both to him and the Serpent. He could think of nothing that would please him more than capturing that old hag, nothing that would do more credit to his god.
That one woman had done more damage to the Serpent than any other person in the Twelve Claims, was still doing it, damn her soul, for Temple Setherak remained inviolate behind that invisible screen, whatever he did to it. And as long as it stood there, folk could see for themselves that the Sisterhood was unvanquished.
Yes, to kill that perverted whore would be very very sweet.
'The two of them are travelling across Fen-Halani, heading for Setheron,' said the Avatar.
'You've seen them?'
Neither man noticed that Sen-Sether had forgotten to address Robler by the ritual title.
'Not exactly. I can only see faint signs of their passage.' It was galling to Robler that the tracers were playing up just when he needed most to know clearly where Davred was. How could all the instruments malfunction? It was virtually impossible for one to do so, let alone several.
Met thought Davred must have been hiding somewhere off the coast and the tracer had been damaged by water or even by the salty air, but that was rubbish. Tracers were one of Confex's most successful products.
They never broke down. You could smash them to pieces, if you tried hard enough, but you couldn’t damage them in minor ways, for they were sealed units and had fallback circuits for every single function.
Robler growled his frustration deep in his throat. This damned planet obeyed none of the laws of science.
Better for the Confederation if they’d never discovered it in the first place. It had already cost them a Cathartic Agent, at a time when they needed one most. And it’d cost Robler his credibility, too, not to mention his unblemished record of success. Never, ever had he failed in anything before. And although he intended to redeem as much as possible from that failure by recapturing Davred, he knew the man was damaged beyond repair, fit only for the medics to deal with, so their precious CA was still a loss to the Confederation.
'And the faint signs you can see - they show what, dread my lord?' Sen-Sether prompted. He’d noticed before how the name Davred seemed to upset the Avatar. Strange, that. Benner said the Manifestation of the God was a gentle young man, nothing special in looks or presence. Sen-Sether hadn’t seen him in person, but the fellow sounded to be only a tool of that old hag, not a figure of power in his own right, just one of the many people she’d suborned to follow her fool's quest.
Robler pulled himself together. He had to concentrate. Sen-Sether might be a primitive, but he was sharp-witted and tricky to deal with. 'The signs show they've nearly reached Setheron and have just entered some wild hilly country. More than that I cannot tell you.'
&nb
sp; 'They'll be in the borderlands, then,' Sen-Sether mused. 'We must set a trap for them, several traps. As many traps as there are roads through the hill country.' And there were only a few roads, so they could quite easily cover all routes. He felt triumph surge up within him. This time he’d not fail. This time he’d capture the old witch and deal with her in a fitting manner.
'Do that, Lord of this Inner Shrine,' said Robler. 'Set as many traps as are necessary. Spare nothing. But remember Davred is not to be harmed. He’s mine and mine alone. If you damage him, I'll wipe you and your city from the face of the planet. I can do that quite easily, believe me.'
Sen-Sether inclined his head. When the Avatar spoke like this, you could feel how the Serpent had possessed him and lay coiled within him, waiting its moment to strike. He relished the feel of that same darkness within himself, the darkness that waited for the Serpent's touch, the darkness that only the Serpent could now bring to life. And when the Serpent deigned to visit him, each deed done in the Serpent's name gifted him with ecstasy beyond measure. 'It shall be done, dread my lord. I shall indeed spare nothing.'
'Immediately.'
'I am yours to command.' Sen-Sether waited only to see if there were any more commands and when the Avatar's voice fell silent, he hurried to do his dread lord's bidding.
Robler switched off the voice transmission and removed the barrier from the doorway of the com-room.
He frowned at the sight of Met waiting there. 'What's the matter? I told you I was not to be disturbed.'
'There's a message from Sector Base, Exec, routed in through the secondary com-suite, since you had a no-go barrier up in here. They've crushed the main rebellion in this sector, but they can't send us any relief yet.
There's still quite a lot of resistance in the nearby systems. They wanted to know how we were and whether we could hang on for a while.'
'I hope you said we were coping well?'
'I told them that most of us were well, but that some had gone mad and fled down to the planet.'
'You told them what!'
'I told them the truth, Exec. What else should I tell them?'
Robler pulled himself together, resisting the temptation to smash his fist into Met's stolid face. The fool!
The dull-brained fool! Didn’t he see how bad it would look if several of the satellite's crew were missing. It’d never been such an effort for Robler to control himself. One day he’d let that dark flood of fury out. One day he’d deal with stupid underlings as they deserved.
He gave a quick nod. 'Then we must continue to rely on ourselves for the moment, Met. Tell Meera to come to my quarters.'
But it wasn’t Meera who came to the Executive suite; it was Met.
'She says she'll meet you in the common areas, or in the work areas, but she doesn't want to share any more leisure periods with you.'
Robler's face turned dark red with anger, but he said nothing. Meera, too, was sliding away from him. And in this ridiculous system, with its weak whining ways, he could do nothing to bring her in line. Yet. But one day he would. Oh, yes. One day.
Met walked away with a puzzled expression on his face. He was beginning to have serious worries about the Exec. These sessions in the com-room, with everyone else barred. The strange arrogant things Robler said and did. Met had supported him at first and still preferred his approach to the softness of Davred and that fool Mak, but there was something strange about Robler lately, something lurking behind his eyes that made you feel uneasy in his presence. Met had never heard of anyone behaving quite like this. It was worrying, very worrying, and there was nothing in the rule book for dealing with it.
CHAPTER 19 THE SERPENT'S REACH
When Davred and Soo had finished catching up with each other's news, Herra took charge of the situation. 'Now, my dear friends, we must decide what to do next.' She smiled at Ivo. 'You won’t mind my considering you a friend, will you?'
He blushed. 'I'm honoured, Elder Sister.' He was still awed to find himself in the company of the legendary Herra of Tenebrak, not to mention the Manifestation of the God. He wished Pa were here. Giff would have dealt with this better. His Pa stood in awe of no one.
'We don't use those titles except on formal occasions, Ivo. Please call us Herra and Davred - though not in public, of course. We daren’t let it be known who we are.'
He swallowed. He wasn’t quite sure he could bring himself to speak familiarly to such august personages.
Alaran sat watching everyone, content to listen. He knew his father had been born on another world, had flown here across the dark emptiness of space, and had then come down from a place called a satellite, a sort of domain in the sky. But seeing Soo made it all seem much more real, because she looked so different from the other people he’d met. She was very small, even smaller than Herra, barely coming up to his shoulder, and she had an ivory-yellow tinge to her skin as well as dark eyes set at a slant.
Ivo was huge, almost as big as Benjan, with great muscular arms and legs, and a shock of straight dark hair that always looked untidy. He and Soo looked wrong as a pair, Alaran decided, staring at them. How anyone could have been fooled into thinking them man and wife, he could not understand. But then, he couldn’t understand a lot of the things he’d encountered in the Twelve Claims. He was glad his father and Herra were there to look after him and show him how things were done. On his own, he’d soon have been in trouble.
'We must now decide what to do next,' said Herra. 'Or rather, we must decide how we're going to do it.
I've known for a while the task we must fulfil, and I believe now is the best time to deal with it.' She tested the moment again mentally. She still needed to be very careful with the next piece of information. Yes, her Brother was whispering in her ear that this was the time and these were her true helpers. 'Do you remember the Great Prophecy, my friends?'
They all nodded. There was no one in the Twelve Claims who hadn’t heard that prophecy, and it was equally well known on the satellite.
Davred repeated the first two lines softly,
Though spawned of death, redeemed in birth,
Twin destinies unfold
Herra held up her hand, smiling. 'Yes, that's it. And that's all of it we need to remember at the moment.'
'The babies?' Davred stared at her. 'They're our task?'
'One of them is. Cheral is to search for the other. The time has come to retrieve the two infants we saved from death that evening, though they’re children now. We must develop their Gifts most carefully. I sense that their lines will tie many Gifts together for our people and I think at some stage the two of them will rule the Twelve Claims, all the Twelve Claims.' She gave him one of her thoughtful looks. 'Somehow, I don't think you and Katia were meant to be rulers.'
He smiled gently. He knew himself and his own weaknesses. 'I don't think so, either. I have no taste for managing power.'
'And yet you will take charge for a while. When I’m no longer here. You won’t refuse our Brother's call then.'
Davred swallowed hard. He could hear the tone of prophecy, but he’d never grown used to the calm way Herra spoke of her own death.
'Don't fret, Davred.' She laid her hand on his in a motherly gesture. 'It's part of the natural pattern of life to die. And there will be other lives for me.'
'It's part of the natural pattern to grieve as well, Herra. As I shall grieve to lose you.'
'Well, you won't be losing me yet, though I feel,' she frowned in puzzlement, 'I feel an uneasiness. I think danger lies ahead for me, for us all. And soon.'
There was silence for a moment or two, then Davred asked, 'And the two children?'
'Petur and Taslyn will be able to help us rid the land of the Serpent.'
'How can you know that?'
'I just - know it. I can sometimes sense the truth to come.'
'But how can two children help us? They can't be more than seven or eight years old, surely?'
She shrugged. 'I know not. Perhaps they’ll be gr
own up by the time we succeed. We must just trust in our Brother to guide us.'
He couldn’t think what to say. To the Sisterhood, one lifespan was a short period of time, and a few years was nothing. Nowhere else in the galaxy that he knew of did things move so slowly, or people accept that as the rightful order. None of its patterns of government in the Confederation had endured for twenty thousand years. Perhaps peace was a difficult balance to find and even more difficult to keep. He didn’t know, couldn’t judge. What he did know was how very satisfying the quest for peace was, more satisfying than anything he’d ever experienced in the Confederation.
One day he hoped to take that quest back to the Confederation, as the best gift he could give his people, the Catharsis they had hoped for from him, the weapon against war and violence. Those of the Confederation were, he realised suddenly, primitive in their treatment of one another, for all their easy mechanised lifestyles.
Confederation medics were mere technicians, users of machinery, not healers. Never once had he seen on their faces the tender concern for others you saw on a Sister Healer's face. Some of the Confederation medi-psychs might be more in tune with people's inner needs, perhaps, and some of the planetary medics and healers, who were usually labelled 'quacks'. Confederation medics just used clever machinery, however. And that was wrong. Very wrong. Human beings were not mere machines that were malfunctioning; they were so much more. Their potential was only just beginning to be realised, even here on Sunrise.
'You still think it's possible to rid the whole land of the Serpent, Herra?' Soo asked, when the silence dragged on. The more she saw of that vicious cult and the way it’d spread into every corner of the land, the less confident she felt about a successful outcome for the Sisterhood's Quest.
Herra's eyes were focused on distant horizons. 'I'm sure it's possible. What I'm not sure about is whether our group has the strength to make that possibility come to pass, or whether others who come after us will need to take up the cause and bring it to a final conclusion. We're still struggling to follow the path of wisdom, Soo. And although our Brother can help us, he can’t tread the path for us. That we must do ourselves or it means nothing for our souls' progress on the ladder of life.'