"The substance is potentiated by being mixed with the blood of young mothers," said Genevieve. "Each dose requires that a young woman be slain."
"Uncovenantly bitch," bellowed the Marshal from the rear of the tent.
"Traitoress," cried the Prince, more feebly.
"Nonsense!" said the Chieftain between his teeth.
"Not nonsense, no. The reactions of your prisoners should tell you I speak the truth. Whether you believe me or not, I will tell you nothing but the truth."
"Father," said Terceth, reaching out his hand. "I don't think..."
"No," snarled Ygdale. "You don't think, but I do! None of us like the steps to which we are driven, but I have a world to consider." He strode to the back of the tent where he stared at the two men there for a long time, twisting his mustache the while and lifting one nostril as though to sniff something out that eluded him. At length he returned, saying, "Tell your... mentor, that we regret finding it necessary to make some sacrifices..."
"Ah," she said. "That is very much what the noblemen of Haven and the men of Mahahm have always done. Even your vocabulary is similar to theirs. On Haven we women were taught resignation. On Mahahm they were drugged into acceptance. Even so, eventually one runs out of young women. Are you prepared to abduct women from other worlds to make this medicine?"
"Father," cried Terceth. "Think what she's saying!"
His father snarled to his guards, "Take my youngest son to his tent." Then, when they had escorted him away, to Genevieve, "We consider that our first responsibility is to our own families. Our children. Our wives."
"No," Genevieve interrupted him. "The medicine does not work on women. You will have to sacrifice your own wives and daughters."
Silence for a long moment, then, reluctantly he said, "If doing so will restore life to our world..."
"Only the lives of old men. No others."
"But men are the real Aresians," blustered Lokdren. "Ours is a very masculine world. We revel in masculine things..."
"Men who take this medicine do not revel," she said. "They do not sport, or dare. They are impotent, but greedy for life. They do not ride or hunt or take any risks at all, but every few days they drink the blood of slaughtered women."
"Still..." murmured Lokdren.
"Wisdom comes with age," said the Chieftain ponderously. "Perhaps through wisdom we will learn some way to avoid the necessity..."
"An interesting interpretation of wisdom," she said. "So when I return to my mentor, I am to say you are willing to sacrifice and persuade in order to become wise?"
"What makes you think you will be allowed to return with your telling?" grated the Chieftain. "I allowed you to speak merely to see what you had to say of interest. Now you have said it, and it is not of interest! Do you think you, yourself will not be affected by the persuasion of your husband, by the sacrifice of your child!"
"Oh, I would be affected," she said. "I would tell you anything you want to know."
"The location of the drug!"
"I know where a great store of it lies, and you need not persuade either my husband or my child. I will tell you without that. I ask only that you let me see him, alone, for a little time."
The Chieftain met her limpid gaze with a hard, brittle glare of his own. "A very little time. Ogberd, take her."
They went out into the glare of the sun and down a line of tents to a small one where Aufors slumped in a disconsolate huddle against a roll of blankets. Genevieve went in and laid the baby beside him. He looked up, saw her face, and turned a furious red, a shamed red, then turned his face away from her, shuddering.
"I'll wait," said Ogberd, sneering. "Don't look like I'll be long." Genevieve turned toward him, saying, "Out of earshot. Please, let us have some privacy."
He shrugged and walked to a nearby tent where Terceth sat cross-legged in the opening, and they two were soon joined by Lokdren, who gestured toward Aufors's tent and said, "What do you think, her wandering in like that?"
"I think Father'll kill her if she crosses him," Ogberd offered. Lokdren shook his head. "I think she's going to tell him where the stuff is."
"Why would she?" Ogberd asked.
"Because she knows something we don't," Terceth spoke from his place in the shade of the tent flap. "I've been thinking about what happened south of here. I think we're making a mistake. I have a bad feeling about this."
Ogberd snorted. "Oh, for the love of Hotipah, you don't believe that stuff about sacrificing women, do you? She made all that up, just to put us off!"
Terceth replied, "Oh, yes, I believe it. The two Havenites in there, they knew she spoke truth, and so did Father. That's why he's so angry. He has his mind set on doing anything he needs to do to get the stuff, and she knows that if we've decided to do that, then we've changed the kind of people we are-or thought we were."
"Life is change," sneered Ogberd. "We'll be whatever kind of people we need to be."
Terceth murmured, "I'd like to know who's this mentor she talks about?"
"It doesn't exist," said Ogberd. "She's trying a bluff. By Hotipah, Terceth, sharpen up! Don't you care if Ares dies? If our family dies?"
"Ares died a long time ago, and when Father commanded that iron to be heated and you put it against that old man's chest, so did we," said Terceth.
Ogberd stalked away at that, Lokdren following him, leaving Terceth to sit alone, brooding over the two across the way.
Inside the tent, Aufors had gone on staring, either unable or unwilling to speak.
"I told you I'd come back," she whispered. "Aufors, talk to me!"
He drew a deep breath, put his hand on her hair, still sodden from the sea, hanging in long strands around her face. There was seaweed in it, and the smell of the ocean was on her.
He said, "Awhero told me..."
"Told you what, dear one?"
"She told me... so you needn't pretend anymore."
Puzzled, beginning to feel angry, she said, "Told what? Pretend what?"
"I've found out about Dovidi. Do you know who his father is? Does anyone know who his father is?"
She staggered back from him, as though he had slapped her. "Aufors, this child is your son."
"He couldn't be my son. No. Half fish. That's what Awhero said. He's half fish. It's all been... it's all been some kind of mystery..."
She took a deep breath, clenching her fists. "Do you remember your mother?"
"Not well," he gulped, astonished.
"Do you remember what she looked like?"
"Only from her picture. In the hallway at home."
"You had a copy of that portrait with you on the ship, when we came here."
"In my wallet. It's... still there."
"Where is it? In this pack. Good." She rummaged among his belongings, coming up with the familiar folder. "Look at it, Aufors."
He opened it with fumbling fingers, finding the picture with some difficulty. He took it out and stared at it, looking from it to Genevieve with puzzled eyes.
"Notice the nose, the eyes," she said. "She resembles me, does she not?" He started to speak, cleared his throat, managed to say, "Somewhat, yes. But..."
"That's because we were related, Aufors. Distant cousins to be sure, but both she and I were of Stephanie's line." Almost she started to tell him what lineage that was, but swallowed the words. He'd never believe that!
He stared, licked his lips, swallowed deeply and painfully. "How do you know about my mother?"
"I know because I was told. More important, I know because Dovidi could only have been born to two parents who were each of Stephanie's line. Just as I could have been born only to two such parents."
He barked laughter, without humor. "The Marshal? Tell me another tall tale."
"The Marshal is not my father. He fathered a number of children on my mother and all of them died. I lived. I should have realized what that meant a long time ago. My mother must have had a lover."
"Awhero said he... Dovidi would be able
to breathe, down there," he said.
"That's true," Genevieve agreed. "Though I don't know how she knew."
"During their trip, he fell in the pool, or wriggled in, and she saw him swim. She says he has gills..."
"Like gills, yes. But not just that. Other things, inside, that let us go down, very deeply, as the harbingers do."
He gave her a quick, frankly curious glance, started to say something, then stopped, shaking his head.
"You want to see," said Genevieve. "But I can't show you. The skin doesn't open unless I'm under water."
"And... Dovidi is..."
"Dovidi is your son. As we both know. As you should never have doubted." Try as she would, she could not keep the outrage from her voice.
He struggled to his feet in sudden agitation, her anger stirring his own. "It's late to tell me that. You said... when we met in Barfezi you said you'd been taken prisoner in the caverns. And you said there'd been someone... someone on the boat with you. A presence. You said, you couldn't really remember. When Awhero said he, Dovidi, was part fish I thought... oh, I thought... you should have told me before we were married... shouldn't have let me find out..."
She shouted, "Told you what? Let you find out what?"
"About... you know. Your... difference. Your... abilities." She took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. "My mother made me swear never to tell anyone until the ability was needed, and the first time I ever needed it was when I dived off that stone into the sea with Dovidi in my arms. I suspected about Dovidi only after he was born, and I didn't really know until we were underwater. And you will recall that I suggested we wait to get married, but you insisted, and you will also recall that during the entire time since I have had something I could tell you, we have been separated by a war, an ocean, a desert, an army, or this... this stupidity!"
He sat down, glaring at his feet. "You should have told me. I mean, how long have you known you could do this?"
"How long have I really known? About four days. Covenantly daughters don't swim. They don't go in the sea or in rivers or pools. Except for the pools under Langmarsh House, I've never been in water deeper than a bathing tub. So, when I took that leap away from those men, I only hoped. I didn't know."
He shook his head wearily, too far sunk in doubt to be able to swim out of it.
She aped his head shake, speaking between her teeth in irritation.
"Aufors, we don't have time for this. Tell me, do you value your life?"
"Of course," he snapped, angry again. "Though perhaps..."
"Perhaps nothing! You are going to have to believe in me. In a moment, I'm going to walk out of here to tell the Chieftain and the Prince and my un-Father where they can find the great store of life-stuff they're looking for."
"You wouldn't!"
"I will. I will for good reason. And if you trust me and come with me and stand beside me, you'll be safe and all our people will be safe, no matter what happens."
"And Dovidi?"
"Including Dovidi, of course. I would never threaten Dovidi's life, or yours. Whatever's chewing on you, can you set it aside? For the love you claimed you bore me..."
"Claim! I did... do love you!"
"Then prove it. Stop sulking and follow me!"
He rose, breathing heavily, his face reddening as he bent to take up his cloak and pack.
"Leave them," she whispered. "We can save only ourselves."
Reluctantly, he followed her out of the tent. Terceth still watched, and as they passed, Genevieve said to him, "Terceth, do you see that great rock outcropping a little south and west of your ship? If you would live, get yourself to the top of it, together with any whose lives you treasure."
He started to speak, but her glance quelled him, and as they departed, Aufors turned back to see him leave the tent and run toward the outcropping she had mentioned. He ran alone.
The Chieftain and his two elder sons awaited them in the high tent, where Genevieve went with Aufors close behind.
"I would speak a word to the Prince, to the Marshal."
"Speak," the Chieftain said, "but don't take long.
She went back to where they sat on a carpet at the rear of the tent. The Prince looked as he had at the Standing Stone, mummylike, aged beyond belief. The Marshal was unchanged. He still gripped the Prince's hand, and Genevieve could see a bit of food wrapper protruding between the fingers. So. They were disputing over who should have the dose.
"I have only a little question," she murmured. "If either of you had it to do over again, would you do anything differently?"
The Prince wheezed. "I'd have killed that old fox Marwell long ago. And I'd have rejected you as a candidate, girl. You've brought our world down around us."
She turned to the Marshal, questioning only with her eyes. "I'd have had your mother done away with after you were born," he snarled. "And you with her!"
She smiled, radiantly, so brightly that they were caught in the light of it, unable to turn away.
"No last-minute conversions. No remorse. Consistent to the end."
"What end?" breathed the Prince. "Tides turn, girly. Tides turn..." His fingers worked, and he nodded at the Marshal, as though in agreement. So. They would share it. She turned to walk back through the tent and out onto the sand, summoning the Aresians to follow her. There she pointed at a slope of sand near the city walls and said, "Under that sand is the store of life stuff buried. Dig down, and you will find the building. I ask only to take my son and my husband and depart."
"Oh, no, no," laughed the Chieftain. "Not until we've proven you right, lady. Then you can take whom you will. Take your papa as well, and that old mummy back there who's fading by the minute."
"Very well," she said. "I will stand here, where I can see your men digging. You have decided to dig it up, no matter what I've said?"
Lokdren made an abortive gesture, but Ogberd caught his arm and held it.
"No matter what you or anyone might say," the Chieftain agreed. And with that, he turned to his men and trumpeted an order. Within moments, a horde of diggers were converging on the slope.
"There is a song to be sung on these occasions," Genevieve said. "You will not mind if I sing it?"
"Sing to your heart's content," sneered the Chieftain. "I'm going to join the treasure hunt."
When he approached the diggers, Genevieve stepped away from the tent, tugging Aufors along by one lax hand. When the first shovel entered into the sand she began to sing, and for the first time in all her singing, she did not bother to soften her voice.
In Mahahm, every prayer-caller woke to sudden attention. In the oases across the deserts, Mahahmbi stopped what they were doing to hearken. Among the armies of Aresia, no man moved. The shovelers stopped, stooped. The officers froze, mouths open. The Chieftain stood as one turned to stone. Out on the sands, near the stone outcropping, Terceth staggered, then picked himself up and ran on. On the Frangian ship, the sailors heard, and hastened to bring their ship into the bay.
In far Galul, people heard the song and stood amazed while the beasts of the fields stopped grazing and put their heads high, swiveling their ears. Her voice did not blare, it was not loud, it simply filled all space with total sound, emerging as smoothly as the reverberation of a great temple gong, setting forth melody note by note, each note unfading as the next joined with it in harmony, slow, measured, a call that went forth across the sea to its farthest edges.
And was answered.
They heard the answer first, then the shock, as though the world shook.
"Stand by me," whispered Genevieve to Aufors. "Stand close. Hold on to me."
Another shock, this one larger, and this time the world quivered, like the hide of a horse, shaking off a fly.
"What's happening?" bellowed the Chieftain.
"I have sung to my mentor," cried Genevieve in her huge voice. "I have told the spirit of the world of your decision."
A third great shock, and this time the desert shook, sands dancing
above its surface like rain upon a pavement, the city of Mahahm-qum wavering against the sun-cooked sky, its towers cracking, great billows of dust rising.
They heard it coming. Heads turned, everywhere.
"Storm?" breathed Aufors, clinging to Genevieve's arm. "Wind?"
"A quake," she murmured to him, drawing him closer. "And behind the quake, the wave..."
They saw it coming then, beyond the walls of the city, a long black line across the horizon, one that grew in height as it approached, a wave that loomed above the tallest tower of Mahahm-qum, one that reached almost to the top of the rocky outcropping Genevieve had pointed out to Terceth, a tidal wave that met the shore of Mahahm and just kept coming. Beyond it, Aufors saw another, higher!
Sheri Tepper - Singer From The Sea Page 55