Beyond the Waters of the World

by Ruth Nestvold

  While he still felt a stranger here, as a factor experienced with the trading fleets of the Thirteen Cities, he had quickly made a place for himself. Kislan knew many of the captains and the traders of the Mejan well, and knew their trading routes and the goods they often carried. His awkwardness with the language of the Tusalis was not enough to outweigh the advantage of his knowledge of the Mejan language and Mejan ways. Now that he had been in Belraash most of the winter, he was learning the language too.

  He was waiting on the docks with two assistants as Yöndahko's ship came in, fingering the lace encircling his left wrist. Behind and beside them were also a number of the wives of Yöndahko's men, and even more of the women who haunted the wharf area of the small town, selling their bodies to sailors and pirates. Among the Tusalis, sex spilled out onto the streets, sometimes even taking place on the streets, and a woman sold herself for a ring of gold --or iron if she were particularly talented or pretty.

  One of the many things Kislan found so very difficult to get used to. He felt the fashar beneath his palm, and began to rotate the length of lace like a bracelet in a gesture he had developed since arriving in Belraash. His odd choice of adornment had even given him a name here among the Tusalis --Kislan Lace-Wearer. The gangplank went down, and the crew began unloading goods to be tallied from Kislan's former home --probably leather garments from Edaru among them. As much as he tried to wipe it from his heart, those little reminders still made him homesick. Yöndahko strode over, handing Kislan a length of fashar with a list of the goods they had brought with them on this voyage, according to the records kept aboard ship.

  "A successful trip?" Kislan asked.

  The crooked-nosed captain slapped him on the back and chuckled. "Very successful. Sometimes it is more than worth the risk to make a winter voyage, when so many other traders stay in port."

  Kislan smiled. He didn't know what he would have done without Yöndahko. The older man had not only given him work, he had even given him a place in his home for the first few ten-days until Kislan had been able to pay for rooms of his own.

  Although living alone was yet another thing Kislan found difficult to get used to. While he had been with Yöndahko, sons and daughters and grandchildren had come and gone in a nearly constant stream, and it was almost like living in a house of the Mejan. The rooms he rented for himself were much too quiet.

  He wondered how little Dibrel was doing these days.

  "And what are you bringing us?" Kislan asked, glancing at the fashar Yöndahko had given him.

  "Brocade from Tanay, goblets from Muranu -"

  The captain broke off as a loud argument erupted nearby. Yöndahko's crew member Gorazh and his wife, of course. Kislan looked away when Gorazh slapped her, but he could still hear the ring of flesh against flesh, followed by the sound of subdued crying. Every instinct rebelled at allowing a woman to be treated in such a way: his muscles strained to spring up and wrestle Gorazh into submission, to take him before the council for judgment. And every instinct cried out that he was making himself guilty for not doing so. The ways of Belraash were wrong, wrong, wrong.

  But here he could learn writing --not the odd drawing-writing that Toni had been teaching him, true writing with needle and yarn. And no one would throw him into the sea for it, or any other imagined sin.

  Yöndahko took his elbow and drew him away. "Gently, my friend," he murmured under his breath.

  "Did I do anything?"

  "No, but you were quivering like a renjai before a race." Together they strolled along the docks, silent, while Kislan collected himself, willing his nerves to calm. The harbor area here in Belraash was much more modest than in Edaru, but many of the buildings themselves were tall and imposing, built with precisely-cut stones scavenged from the Tusalis ruins.

  Yöndahko still had a hand on Kislan's elbow. "Most men here don't strike their women, you know."

  "I know." But he wanted to make them all understand that it wasn't right. How did other men of the Mejan who had found their way to the Tusalis deal with their strange ways? Perhaps he should find others, talk to them. The way he felt now, Belraash would never be home. Yöndahko had done so much for him, Kislan was almost guilty about adapting so poorly to life among the Tusalis. But that wasn't strictly true --his knowledge was needed here. One of the many surprises of his new life had been learning how many of the captains he had known from his work in Edaru traded with the "pirates." He was now convinced that most of the shipments of domrhene, the fine purple stone beloved of the women of the Thirteen Cities, had actually come from the mines in the frozen mountains west of Belraash Bay. Superficially, he had adapted; he had work, he had friends of sorts, he had a place in the life of the city.

  And the ways of the Tusalis still made no sense to him.

  Among the Mejan, the sea was the realm of men, and the house the realm of the women. Here, both the land and the sea were the realms of men. There was no place where women ruled.

  Yöndahko shrugged. "I know you think our ways are not right, even if you no longer say it. But what is right? Your 'right' sent you into the sea and to us." Kislan winced. His friend did not have to remind him --there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about how he was a criminal according to the way of life he believed in. A young woman lurking in a doorway gave him a slow smile, and Kislan looked away, still embarrassed by this form of open sexuality in Belraash. In Edaru, sexuality remained mostly in the house, in the family, sometimes shared with guests --as the House of Ishel had intended to share him with Toni.

  Kislan wondered if the women of his house ever thought of the embraces they had once exchanged during sweaty nights. In his former life, Thuyene had requested him more often than any of the other men of the house of Ishel. Did she ever regret that he had been returned to the sea?

  Ever miss him?

  She had played her role admirably that spring day.

  While Toni had broken down. The woman from the stars with whom he had shared no more than a few brief kisses, what seemed so very long ago now. She had promised to come after him, and yet she had not.

  But still he wore the fashar around his wrist.

  #

  Irving Moshofski and Jackson Gates saw them off at the xenoteam landing base ten kilometers outside of Edaru. A small prefab building, one of the half-a-dozen modest structures at the base, it held a surprising amount of technological wonders that the first contact team was forbidden from bringing into populated areas, like the small two-person solar skycar now waiting for Toni and Sam on the landing site. It combined minimal fuel requirements for take-off and ground transportation, largely solar-powered flight, versatility, and stealth technology, making it an ideal vehicle for AIRA researchers on a restricted-contact world. And it was just another example of the basic hypocrisy of AIRA missions, Toni thought -using stealth technology so that cultural contamination could be kept to a minimum. But it was probably still better than the alternatives: dumping the awareness of all the technical marvels of the universe on an unsuspecting culture all at once, or being limited in their research exclusively to what they could achieve with native technology. They shook hands with Moshofski and Gates. "Our turn for a field trip," Sam said, grinning. As the team planetologist and exobiologist, the other two spent much more of their time away from Edaru and the contact house, examining different life forms and geological formations in various regions on the planet. Toni had used that fact to expedite getting permission for their own trip.

  Even expedited, it had taken much too long. The battery on the tracer she had given Kislan was running down, and at times she couldn't even pick up the signal anymore. But for the past four standard months, the signal had been coming from the city of ruins on the opposite side of the continent, and she assumed that was where she would find him even if the sensor gave out entirely.

  "Enjoy your field trip," Gates said.

  "But be careful," Moshofski admonished, his gray eyes serious. "We don't know how much truth there is
to the tales of the Mejan that the settlements on the other side of the continent are inhabited by lawless pirates."

  Toni nodded, repressing a smile. "We will." Their probes in the region of the ancient cities of the Kishudiu and the Tusalis had indicated small commercial centers and persistent settlements without obvious signs of civil unrest. Of course, piracy did exist on the wide seas of Kailazh, that was real enough, but not where they were going. As they lifted off, heading for the cold, unfriendly interior of the continent, Toni felt a rush of happiness. As opposed to jumps between solar systems, she had always enjoyed flying over land, close enough to see roads and structures and geological formations. Before long, they had a view of high snow-capped mountains and nearly inaccessible deep red valleys. And soon she would see Kislan again. Hopefully.

  #

  By evening, they were circling over the city where the signal from Kislan's tracer had been coming from. There looked to be more ruins than intact buildings.

  "In order to land, we're going to have to find a valley on the other side of the foothills," Sam said. "The level spots here are too close to the town."

  "Ok."

  They discovered a wide meadow past the hills ringing the city in an area that didn't seem to be inhabited. The eastern coast of the continent was sparsely populated compared to the territory of the Mejan, and only the fields closest to the urban structures were cultivated. The hike to the city through the range of hills would take them several hours at least, and it was too late to set out now. After finding a rocky outcropping to hide their vehicle once the wings were retracted, they set up their smart tent and studied the information on the area available in the databases of their AIs while making a dinner of travel rations. The next morning, they stowed their gear in the skycar and packed leather travel packs, designed by copying styles observed on vids their probes had taken on these shores.

  "So, will I do?" Sam asked, modeling his "camouflage." Toni examined him critically. Neither of them had the webbing between the lower joints of their fingers, but that was not what would give them away --with his Earth-Asian features, Sam would never be taken for a native of Kailazh. They had provided him with an eye-patch and a story about an accident which deformed his face. The colder weather here in the northern hemisphere might help them as well --Sam intended to keep the hood of his cape over his head while they searched for Kislan in the ruined city. Toni nodded. "We're not planning to spend too much time here, after all." Sam grimaced. "Unfortunately. All we get to do is take a peek at the men's world and disappear again."

  "Hey, a peek is better than nothing, right?"

  "Ask me again when we're back in Edaru."

  Toni laughed and they set off through the hills in the direction of the immense bay and the imposing ruins on the shore.

  #

  Even as rubble, what was left of the ancient city was impressive. Tall, reddish-pink columns stood high above thick stone walls, and beyond it all, the gray-green of the late winter ocean winked in the sun. Behind her, Sam murmured into his AI as they walked, making notes about his impressions of the architecture and what it might have meant on a sociological level, but Toni just allowed herself to enjoy another new place for the moment. It was going to be even harder finding Kislan than she had originally anticipated --as the battery of the tracer had begun to weaken, so had the accuracy. She could pinpoint him to no closer than this city.

  But Kislan had worked at the docks in Edaru, and it was a good bet that he would fulfill a similar function here. Once she and Sam were in the area of the harbor, she could use the biotrace assay to pick up the "scent" of his pheromones. But what would she do with him when she found him?

  That was a question Toni hadn't been able to answer yet. Mostly she wanted to see with her own eyes that he was all right, that he wasn't being mistreated in any way. She hoped he wasn't a slave among these slave-holding people --if so, she would have to find some way to get him out.

  And she wanted him to know that she had kept her promise to find him. As the ruins got smaller, intact buildings began to appear, taller than those the Mejan favored, but with the same swirling painted designs gracing the walls. People looked at her and Sam curiously, but no one stopped them or confronted them, and Toni's confidence grew as the buildings became denser and the streets more narrow. It would do no good to show fear, so when the men lounging in front of the taverns in their winter leggings stared at her, she gazed back unflinchingly, curious. As far as she could tell, she and Sam had gotten the outfits right at least.

  "Which way?" Sam murmured.

  Toni glanced at her AI, checking a rudimentary map. "Here," she said, turning a corner that would take them in the direction of the harbor.

  In the street in front of them, a group of men with swords and daggers and spears stepped in their path and blocked their way.

  She and Sam whirled around to run, when another dozen men appeared from the side streets to cut off their escape route.

  "Shit," Toni muttered, so low that only Sam could hear.

  "I don't think blasting our way out is an option," he said, surprisingly level-headed given all the sharp objects pointed in their direction. "Here's hoping they ask questions first." She saw him press the emergency button on his AI and she nodded, following suit. "I wonder what we did wrong?"

  #

  It wasn't what they had done wrong, it was what Toni had done wrong --walk with confidence and look men in the eye. Not a cultural detail which could be easily gleaned from the vids provided by probes.

  The man Toni presumed was some kind of soldier or police officer slapped her again, and the pain brought stinging tears to her eyes. "Why have the Mejan sent spies to Belraash? And tell me no more children's stories of being one of the visitors from the stars!" Toni stretched out her bound hands, spreading her fingers wide. "See?" she said in the language of the Tusalis. Since Kislan's tracer had stopped its movement here, in their territory, she had been teaching herself the language as best she could by studying the vids from the probes. "No webbing."

  The man kicked her legs and she winced. "Every generation there are a dozen or more with this deformity. It is no proof."

  Despite her pain and fear, Toni's researcher brain made a mental note to tell Jackson Gates that particular detail the next time she saw him. At her own odd reaction, totally irrational laughter bubbled up out of her throat.

  Earning her a slap so hard, it sent her flying out of her chair and onto the floor. Two more men lurking in the background came forward and took her shoulders roughly, setting her back on the chair.

  Toni swallowed back the hysteria that threatened to overcome her. "And the appearance of my companion, Samuel Wu? Is that no proof?"

  "He told us it was an accident."

  She closed her eyes. Oh, Sam, what did I get us into?

  The young soldier who seemed to be in charge turned to the other two men. "Take the rest who are here and patrol the borders of Belraash. Where there are two spies, there may be more. I can finish the questioning by myself."

  The soldiers lifted their fists to their foreheads and exited, leaving her alone with her torturer

  --who had suddenly become much more threatening.

  He smiled, and she knew she would never forget the gray-blue eyes above a nose that looked like it had been broken but displayed no scar.

  #

  The door of his office opened, and Kislan looked up from the threads of his accounts. When he saw his mentor Yöndahko in the doorframe, he smiled. "It is still too early for the taverns, my friend."

  The gray-haired captain shook his head in assent. "Perhaps too early for the taverns, but not too early for news."

  Kislan raised his eyebrows and laid aside his accounts and his knotting implement. Yöndahko's expression turned serious. "Spies have been captured in the southeastern part of the city. Presumably from Edaru. My son is holding them for questioning."

  "Spies?" That couldn't be. The Mejan denied the existence of the Tusalis and
the Kishudiu both, and sending spies would imply admitting the cultures they had escaped from in dim historical memory still existed. Of course, as he knew now, the men who traveled the seas were well aware that was a lie, but the women who ran the houses did not. The sea captain chuckled. "They claim to be the travelers from the stars, but they look much like you and I. Rwuseni says the male has a strange appearance and seems to have been disfigured in some accident, but the female is a woman such as we all know well enough, not some creature from other worlds."

  Kislan's gut wrenched. Toni. No, different as she was, she did not appear some creature from another world. She was all too human, too desirable --and here? In Belraash?

  It couldn't be.

  He swallowed. "I have met the people from the stars. I could corroborate their tale if it truly is them."

  Yöndahko shot him a suspicious glance. "You never mentioned meeting them before."

  "I did not want to set myself apart."

  Yöndahko nodded disagreement. "Some might think you were trying to protect the people of Edaru if you stand up for these strangers now. Some might even think you yourself were sent as a spy. I do not suggest it."

  Kislan shook his head, but his mind was racing. "Yes, I see. You are right, of course." What did holding for questioning mean, precisely? Especially if one of those being held was a woman --here, among the pirates Kislan had been reared as a child to fear?

  They were not so fearsome as the tales told about them in the Thirteen Cities, true, but Kislan had to repress a shudder when he thought what they might do with a woman they considered an enemy, given the way they treated the women of their own culture, the women who lived with them and bore their children.

  "While I am here, do you have the orders from Mitral yet?" Yöndahko asked. Kislan shook his head and fingered through an assortment of lengths of fashar hanging in a frame on the table next to him. When he found the one Yöndahko needed, he lifted it from its hook and handed it to the captain. "Here it is."