The Novels of the Jaran

by Kate Elliott

  David laughed. “Which reminds me. How is the acting business in this town?”

  She laughed in turn. “We’re a great success. A sold-out house every night. Lords and merchants showering the actresses with gifts, flowers and jewels and gowns and expensive baskets of fruit. Poor Yomi has to tag and catalog and return the nonperishable items.” She rested her back against the stone and brushed her golden hair back away from her face. The sun, behind her, set into the bay, casting a golden-red echo across the waters, staining the clouds pink. Was she unconscious of the effect she caused, of the way any man might linger to watch her, to wonder? Diana had a bright face, full of warmth, and the cut of her tunic and skirt, while conservative, lent her figure a pleasing grace. David was not surprised that Marco—in the limited free time that they’d had—put himself in her way. Not that he’d had any success, that David had heard of. But there is pleasure given freely and with a whole heart between friends, and there is a subtle form of coercion that some people see fit to call romance. David did not believe in romance, but he suspected that Diana did. Diana grinned at him; was she aware of the way his thoughts were tending? She was, in some ways, quite as young as she looked, but David did not think she was a fool. “And Hyacinth fell in love with some dark-eyed, perfumed young lordling, if that’s what they call them. He managed to sneak out every night for two weeks before Yomi caught him at it and slapped a curfew on him.”

  “And he obeyed it?”

  “Only because she threatened to tell Soerensen.”

  “Ah,” said David. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to attend any of the performances. How is the experiment going?”

  She turned her shoulders just enough so she could see both him and the sunset. Light spilled out over the bay, chopped by the waves into splinters. Jeds fell into shadow, and the distant hills marking the east grew quite black. Stars began to fill the darkening sky.

  “Shakespeare plays well. We’ve done a condensed repertory schedule: A Midsummer Night’s Dream; King Lear; The Tempest; Peer Gynt; Caucasian Chalk Circle; Oedipus Rex; Berenice. Ginny’s translated some; others we’ve done in the original. I don’t know. Maybe Owen is right. Maybe some human emotions and gestures are universal. They certainly communicate to these people, and they know nothing of Earth.”

  At times like this, David was reminded that he was talking with a fellow professional. He wondered if Marco ever saw this side of Diana, or if he only saw that she was pretty, that she had a warm, attractive personality and the ability to listen. “How do you memorize all those lines?” he demanded.

  She rolled her eyes. “I refuse to answer that question. Why doesn’t Charles Soerensen ban debt-slavery in Jeds?”

  “Debt-slavery?”

  “Haven’t you been in the city at all? Owen has already been approached by three brothel owners and two wealthy merchants to buy my debt from him, because they want to own me, you can imagine what for. It’s been the same for Oriana and for Quinn and Anahita. And Hyacinth, of course. He holds the record: he’s had four brothel owners, three merchants, and eight veiled gentlewomen bargaining through stewards try to buy him. Owen kept trying to tell them that we weren’t slaves until Yomi finally told him just to tell them that we aren’t for sale.”

  “Oh, my,” said David, amused and horrified at the same time.

  “Of course, we found it funny at first,” she went on, her expression darkening. “But the native girls and boys aren’t so lucky.” She hesitated, and David had a sudden premonition whose name was going to come next to her lips. “Marco took me down into the town last week. It had never occurred to me that they might look them over and sell them off like furniture. Those poor girls looked so terrified, and one actually—” She choked on the next words, faltered, and lapsed into silence.

  The waves beat on the rocks below. Faintly, from the audience room, David heard the sound of trumpets.

  “How can he let it go on, when he could stop it?” Diana demanded suddenly.

  “It is an interdicted planet.” The words sounded weak. “Well,” he added apologetically, “if he uses his real strength, it would rip apart the fabric of this society. What right do we have to interfere?”

  “What right? It’s wrong, what they do. It’s wrong for those children.”

  David sighed. “Diana, someone is always going to be hurt. I know that Charles is well aware of the contradictions inherent in his situation.”

  “You’re a fool for going, Charles. Let the company go, and I’ll go with them. Send Cara, if you must. But don’t go yourself. It can’t be perceived as anything but a threat. You forget, I’ve met him.”

  Like conspirators, David and Diana both froze. David wondered if this was how an actor felt, who has forgotten to exit and so, inadvertently, is stuck out on stage for the next scene, in which he does not belong. Diana pressed herself closer against the wall, as if she could sink into the stone and thus hide herself. The voices, accompanied by footfalls, came closer.

  “It is time for Tess to return,” said Charles, sounding cool. “It has been four years, Marco. Four years, since she left Earth. I would have come sooner, but how was I to know it would take two years to finalize the Keinaba alliance? Damned chameleons. One needs the patience of Job to deal with them.”

  Marco chuckled. “Which you, have. I’d much rather deal with barbarians. Quick to anger, quick to friendship. Not this years-long game playing the Chapalii love. Years? Hell. Decades-long, centuries, for all we know of them. Still, I say you’re better off letting me talk to Tess first.”

  The footfalls ceased. The curve of the wall, and the twilight, still hid them from the two men. Alone, David would just have gone to join the others, but Diana looked utterly embarrassed. And anyway, he was curious about the tenor of their conversation.

  “No.”

  “Charles—”

  “No. In any case, the rendezvous is already arranged. We sail in two weeks. Baron Sanier will act as regent until my return. I’ll leave him the scepter of office, although I’ll keep the signet ring and the prince’s chain just in case he gets ambitions. Tess will meet us at Abala Port in about six weeks.”

  “And?”

  “And the Company can travel on into the interior with the jaran, if that’s still their wish.”

  “And you?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we’ll see because you have every intention of turning straight round and coming back here with Tess, don’t you? Merde, Charles, don’t do anything rash.”

  Charles laughed, short and sharp. “When was the last time you’ve known me to do anything rash?”

  “A damned long time ago, as you well know. Let me say it this way. You’re getting used to things going your way. This may not be your choice to make.”

  “Tess has a duty—”

  “Yes, I know all about her duty, and I’m sure she does as well. In any case, it’s not Tess I’m thinking of now. In the words of that ancient song, I think an irresistible force is about to meet an immovable object, and I’m sure as hell going to get out of the flash zone.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Charles Soerensen. David was shocked to hear such coldness in his voice; this was Charles, who always listened, who could always be counted upon to be open-minded. Diana clutched a fistful of cloak in one hand. Footfalls sounded again, but moving away from them, and they were left in silence but for the sea surging below and the distant sound of carriages leaving the palace.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” said a woman’s voice beside them.

  David gasped, starting round. Diana sagged back against the wall.

  “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The woman smiled.

  “Cara!”

  “Oh, not you,” said Cara Hierakis dismissively. “I meant Diana.”

  “Dr. Hierakis,” said Diana in a small voice. She glanced guiltily toward the right and then back. “Oh. I…”

  “Yes, we were all eavesdropping, weren’t we?” />
  “Speak for yourself,” said David, affronted. “We came here by accident.”

  “Oh, not on purpose, I know,” said the doctor mildly. “Or at least, not on your part, Diana.”

  “Thank you,” said David, but he laughed.

  “Is she really alive?” Diana asked. “Terese Soerensen, that is? We heard rumors, but I didn’t know if they were true.”

  “Yes, she’s alive.”

  Whenever he heard Tess mentioned, just that simple fact set against the official announcements proclaimed by the Chapalii Protocol Office, David felt a warm glow start up inside him. Tess was alive, and he would be seeing her soon.

  “But why did she come to Rhui? Diana asked. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t ask, but…” She trailed off, and David turned to look at Cara Hierakis because it was a question he had never gotten a satisfactory answer to.

  Cara laughed. The breeze off the bay stirred her black hair and she squinted out at the distant islands that rimmed the western horizon like glass beads shot through with the last red fires of the sun. The barest trace of crows-feet showed at her eyes. Her face looked not young, yet not old, that mature mask that most humans between the age of forty and ninety now wore: ageless, smooth, and healthy. That David himself wore, although it was by now an ancient joke that folks with the darkest skin stayed the youngest looking for the longest time; there was not four months in chronological age between Charles and David and Marco, but people often mistook David for younger.

  “But,” echoed Cara, smiling at Diana. “You’ll ask anyway. I must say you’re looking pert, David, after that impossibly boring audience and ceremony.”

  “I left.”

  “Of course. You could. Tess is doing linguistics research, Diana.”

  “Linguistics research? That seems so mundane, somehow. I thought maybe she was kidnapped by a dark warrior and swept off into a life filled with hardship and passionate lovemaking. Oh, well.”

  There was a pause. David chuckled.

  Cara regarded Diana with an expression of amused indulgence. “And a bastard every year? Or do you suppose she was married in some primitive ceremony?”

  “Oh, certainly,” said Diana with conviction, pushing herself away from the wall. “Barbarians are prudes, aren’t they? Of course there was a ceremony. She’s probably scarred for life.”

  David laughed.

  “How long have you been an actor?” Cara asked.

  Diana smiled in a way that showed her dimples to perfection. David sighed and shook his head, feeling very old. “My first performance was at age four as the changeling in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “That must explain it,” said Cara, but David knew her well enough to see that she liked Diana. “In any case, Tess is gifted with languages, and I suspect she saw Rhui as an excellent laboratory to study human evolution in parallel to our own.”

  “Like Owen?”

  “Perhaps. It’s not a bad analogy.”

  “You have a laboratory here, too, don’t you? A medical one.”

  “Yes.” Cara cast a glance at David.

  “She’s studying aging,” he said.

  But Cara was only angling for an opening, since it was her favorite subject. “As grateful as we may be for the longevity treatments the Chapalii gave us, allowing us to live out our full one hundred and twenty year life spans with good health and a long period of relative youth, I suspect there’s something we’re missing. Something they didn’t tell us, or something, perhaps, that they don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  David had seen Cara’s lecture mask before. It slipped firmly into place now. “Aging is a two part process. One is a breakdown of the vitality and regenerative abilities of the tissues and the metabolic system, that’s what the Chapalii treatments deal with. But the other is a genetic clock that switches off the organism at a set time. We’re still stuck at one hundred and twenty years. I think we can do better.” The mask slipped off, and she suddenly looked cautious. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

  “It’s a delicate and peculiar issue,” put in David, since Cara had left him his opening. “We don’t talk about it much.”

  “Oh,” said Diana. The sea faded into darkness behind them, and the massive bulk of the palace rose against the stars. “Is that why you have your laboratory down here, on an interdicted planet? Where the Chapalii aren’t allowed?”

  What need to reply? The wind coursed along the parapet and the sea dashed itself into foam on the rocks below. The fecund moon lay low, bordering the hills. A shoe scraped on stone, and Marco emerged from around a curve of wall. He smiled at Diana and leaned casually against the wall beside her.

  To David’s surprise, it was Diana who broke the silence. “But, Dr. Hierakis, are the Rhuian humans really the same species as we are?”

  David almost laughed, seeing how disconcerted Marco looked, as if he thought that once he arrived, Diana would not be able to think of anything but him.

  “Oh, yes,” said Cara. “By all the biological laws we know. Identical.” She appeared about to say something else, but did not.

  “But how?” Diana asked. “That should be impossible.”

  Though it was night, the moon lent enough light to the scene so David could still read their expressions. Marco gazed soulfully on Diana, and David thought she was aware of his gaze on her. Cara sighed and shifted to stare out to sea, imposing the kind of silence on the little group that betrays knowledge hard-won and dangerous to share.

  “Oh,” said Diana. She looked disappointed, but resigned to her fate. “It’s a state secret. I understand.”

  Marco chuckled. “Fair one.” He caught one of her hands in his. “Had you agreed to marry me yet?”

  “You hadn’t asked me yet,” Diana retorted, extricating her hand from his. Then she lowered her eyes from his face and looked quickly away.

  Oh, dear, thought David. He looked at Cara. Cara looked at him. The signs of infatuation were easy enough to read. And she was young, and susceptible.

  “I hear you’re doing The Tempest tonight,” said Cara. “Do you suppose you could find a seat for me? I’ve always loved that play.”

  “Goodness,” said Diana, sounding a bit strained as she said it. “I really must go. I’m sure we can find you something, Doctor, if you’d like to come with me. The duke’s—the prince’s—box is always vacant, unless he’s attending. If you think he’d like to go.”

  “Ah,” said Cara in a dangerous voice. “I’m sure he’d love to attend tonight.”

  They made their good-byes. They left. Marco began to walk after them.

  “Marco,” said David softly, “she is an intelligent and sensitive young woman, and I stress the word, ‘young.’ Stop playing with her. It’s cruel, above all else.”

  Marco spun. “Et tu, Brute? Hell, I had a lecture from Suzanne before she left to go back to Odys. Is this some kind of conspiracy? I think she’s old enough to know her own mind.”

  “Maybe she just strikes us all as more vulnerable than the others. She’s terribly romantic.”

  “Well, so am I,” Marco snapped. “I suggest you let the subject drop.” He propped his elbows up on the battlements and glared out at the bay, striped in darkness and moonlight. But then again, Marco was always short-tempered when he was in full pursuit.

  “I’ve said everything I intend to say. For whatever good it will do. When do Maggie and Rajiv and Jo get in?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Marco grumpily. “And don’t forget Ursula.”

  “Ow.” David winced. “I had. Well, I’ve lived through worse.”

  “Or the next day,” Marco added, evidently determined to be perverse. “It depends on the weather. They’re marking time in orbit now.”

  “Why did you tell Charles that an irresistible force is about to meet an immovable object? What does that have to do with Tess?”

  Marco fixed a brooding stare on David. “Don’t say I didn’t warn him.”

  “My goodness,” said David, �
�you certainly make me look forward to this expedition.”

  Marco only grunted. Then he lapsed into a silence from which, David knew, he could not be coaxed. David decided to see if he could go wangle a chair in the prince’s box, to see tonight’s performance of The Tempest. Somehow, a play about being shipwrecked on a lost and primitive island seemed appropriate to the moment.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JIROANNES ARTHEBATHES WAS AT Eberge when he received the courier from his uncle ordering him to leave three-quarters of his retinue and all of his women and their attendants at the northern villa of the Great King’s fourth cousin.

  His personal secretary, Syrannus, read the letter to him. Jiroannes grabbed the parchment out of Syrannus’s hands and spoke the words to himself. “‘…It has come to our attention that the presence of women in your party would be a hindrance to our negotiations. Therefore, nephew, I feel it wise for you to travel with only twenty guardsmen, two grooms, three slave-boys, and your personal secretary. Be so good as to obey my wishes.’”

  Jiroannes had learned to swear fluently at the palace school for boys; he did so now. “This is humiliating! And well he knows it, too. He would never travel with such a paltry escort.”

  “Surely, eminence, your uncle would not demand such privations of you without good reason.”

  “How can he expect that I will be granted any respect at all, even by such barbarians as these jaran, coming to them with a mere six servants? And no women! Their Bakhtiian will think me the merest lordling. Surely my uncle understands that as the ambassador of the Great King, may his name resonate a thousand years, I must present a dignified retinue. Savages are only impressed by force, size, and gold. They will think Vidiya is some trifling princedom.” He snorted and glanced around his chamber. True, he was far out in the provinces, but the Great King’s fourth cousin had imported the finest carved furniture from the port of Ambray, and the cunning designs woven into the upholstery of the couch attested to the skill of his slaves. Though it was also true that the tile inlaid into the floor had flaws and inferior color, and the beads of the door curtain were painted wood, not glass. “How can the jaran respect us as the most civilized of peoples, as well as the most powerful, if the Great King’s ambassador arrives with a train of servants that any concubine might own? Feh.”