The Novels of the Jaran

by Kate Elliott

  “Damn you.” David laughed. “You’re trying to embarrass me. I think she just wanted to see how far the melanin extends.”

  “I hope her curiosity was suitably satisfied.”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I did, and it was.” She laughed in her turn. “You’re blushing. You’re such an easy target, David.”

  “I would have thought there wouldn’t be any challenge in it, then. You’re a heartless woman, Mags.”

  They crossed to the door and slid the panel aside to let themselves out. Immediately, warmth enveloped them although it stayed cooler inside the palace in contrast to the hot summer days passing outside. The ebony floors of this chamber gleamed, and networks of light pulsed in their depths, as if the flooring concealed a delicate web of machinery. Maggie broke away from David and paced out the meter-wide counter that stood in the room. It extended in an unbroken, hollow rectangle within the larger rectangular chamber; she slid up onto it and climbed over to the smaller counter, a half meter wide but also unbroken, that stood within it, and then hopped that one as well to stand in the very center of the room. The two counters separated her from David. She looked at him, and he at her.

  “What the hell do these represent?” she asked. “I don’t see anything on here, no storage places, no controls, no patterns, no heat, nothing but the smooth surface.”

  David gestured back toward the door they had just come through. On either side of the door stood two tall megaliths. “Rajiv is pretty certain that those are transmitters of some kind. Maybe this is a power source.”

  “Damned chameleons,” said Maggie cheerfully. She hopped back over the counters to return to David. They went on.

  They no longer exclaimed over the palace. They had been here forty-three days and were as used to it as they ever would be. But still, for sheer size and the elegance and profusion of its detailing, it was magnificent. And it was theirs, the only Chapalii palace where humans had ever run free, unobstructed by protocol officers, by stewards, by the simple presence of any Chapalii at all. That it was thousands of years old did not lessen their victory. For all they knew, and from what little they had been permitted to see in Chapalii precincts now, Chapaliian architecture had scarcely changed at all in the last millennium.

  Jo Singh had taken samples from every surface she could get a molecular flake off of, and Maggie had covered the same ground David had in his survey, recording every detail in three media for Earth’s databanks. Charles walked the palace incessantly, as if by becoming intimately familiar with it he could somehow divine the intricacies of the Chapalii mind. After all, why should they have ennobled him? Why should they have rewarded him for his failed rebellion against them rather than simply killing him for the trouble he caused them?

  “It’s damned impressive,” said Maggie. David started, feeling that she echoed his thoughts.

  “Do you ever think,” he said slowly, “that we might just be better off as subjects in their Empire?”

  “They don’t bear grudges, you know, or at least, not that I’ve ever noticed. Not that I’m much among them, of course.”

  “Not that any of us are,” David said.

  “Sometimes I think they’re better than us. Less prone to emotional decisions. More concerned about peace, and peaceable living. About stability. They must think we’re savages, the way we go on.”

  David grinned. “Yes, rather like we look at the natives of Rhui and pride ourselves on being better than them, because we’ve grown out of their primitive state. We live well. All of us, I mean, all humans, not just you and I and the rest of Charles’s retinue.”

  Maggie paused as they went through an archway. She lifted a hand to trace a translucent spire of a glasslike substance that bordered the opening, lending its shadow to the pattern of tiles on the floor. At its core, fainter patterns mirrored the walls. “But it’s a moot point, isn’t it? Charles has already decided for all of us.”

  “Now, Mags, you know very well that the League Parliament voted full confidence in him. That is to say, that they’d follow wherever he led, knowing that he’s got his eye on freeing us from the Empire somewhere down the line.”

  “Look. Here comes an escort.”

  Down the dimly lit hall came a white-robed priest—the ancient woman called Mother Avdotya—and a figure now intimately familiar to David. He hesitated and then walked forward beside Maggie, one hand tapping the modeler nervously. It looked like a plain black tablet of polished ebony, and he always carried parchment and quill pen and ink in the pouch at his belt, so that he might be thought to be using such instruments to conduct his survey and the tablet merely as a surface to write on, but it still made him anxious to meet any of the jaran when it was visible. Nadine, especially. Nadine always wanted to see the maps and architectural drawings he made. She had a clear grasp of maps and distances; she had just last night drawn him an astonishingly accurate—for its type—map of the coastline from Jeds up to the inland sea to the port of Abala. She had a fierce, impatient personality, overwhelming and breathlessly attractive to him, and he could not help but think longingly, for an instant, of Tess’s more supple temperament. But Tess was as far out of his reach now as was the Chapalii control room. And Dina was here.

  “What have you done for me today?” Nadine asked him, falling into step beside him. She spoke Rhuian precisely and without a trace of accent, as if she had learned the language through Tess’s matrix and not by the laborious process of one word at a time. Even her uncle spoke with an accent, although his command of the language was equally impressive.

  “A lintel,” he replied, “from the southwest transept.” He withdrew a rolled-up square of parchment from his belt-pouch and halted to smooth it open on the modeler.

  Nadine studied it, frowning. “This pattern, here…isn’t that repeated, but backward, on the northeast transept? And reversed, too.” She stared as if she could puzzle out some vital information from the drawing. “You have a fine hand,” she added.

  “No doubt,” said Maggie, with a smirk. David cast her a glare.

  Nadine stepped back. Her lips quirked up, but she did not smile. “I want to add to my uncle’s maps on the way back. We’ll probably he riding far into Habakar territory, and eventually, riding south, the land route must come to Jeds. Someday I’d like to map both routes to Jeds, by ship and by horse.”

  “Would you, indeed?” said Maggie under her breath in Anglais. “No doubt your uncle would as well.”

  “If you will,” said the old priestess, who had waited patiently through this exchange. “The prince and the other priests are waiting only for your presence to begin the meal.”

  “Of course.” David rolled up the parchment and stuck it back into his pouch. They had to match their stride to the priestess’s limping walk, so it took some time to wend their way through the maze of the palace and into the back rooms where the jaran priests lived. “How long have the jaran sent priests here?” he asked Nadine as she sat down next to him on a bench in the dining hall.

  “Since we found it here. Surely you can see that the gods have touched this place, so we honor it.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps Mother Avdotya knows. Perhaps my uncle guesses. A long time ago, in any case. But my uncle says that these zayinu from over the sea built this shrine, the zayinu called khepelli. Do you think this as well?”

  “Yes, I do. But surely you know that, if you’ve spoken with Tess.”

  “There are many things Tess does not speak of,” said Nadine cryptically. “And many things she speaks of without saying much. I will come to your bed tonight, if you wish it.”

  David felt heat burn in his cheeks and hoped that Nadine was still unfamiliar enough with his coloring that she could not tell he was blushing. “Yes.” He managed to force out the syllable through a suddenly choked throat. Although the word was barely audible, Nadine smiled and returned her attention to her food.

 
; Later, as they finished eating, Charles signaled to his crew, and they left together to go meet in the tiny room allotted to him. He sat on the edge of the narrow bed. Rajiv sat in the one chair, a hemi-slate resting on his knees, and Maggie on the edge of the wooden table. Jo sank down onto the floor with catlike grace. David remained standing with his back to the door.

  Charles regarded them one by one. “What progress today?”

  “I’ve got a tentative date on a ceramic sample,” said Jo. “Ten thousand years, minimum. It’s got to be that old. Ten to fifteen, by my best estimate. I incline to the later date.”

  “Does that surprise any of you?” Charles asked. He, of course, did not look surprised, but then Charles had become as adept at maintaining a blank expression as his Chapalii counterparts in the high nobility.

  “Yes,” said Maggie emphatically. “A thousand years, perhaps. But look at this place. Not here, but the rest of it. How could it have survived in such good condition? What does humanity have left from fifteen thousand years ago? That’s Paleolithic times. Some obsidian blades and a few cave paintings?”

  “Margaret,” said Rajiv primly from his chair, “what you are not doing is thinking clearly. I cannot believe we know a thousandth part of the extent and sophistication of Chapalii technology. I will present you with an analogy. Take one of these jaran. Take a curious, intelligent one, such as the woman Nadine Orzhekov. What she knows and imagines of our life and technology is likely closer to the truth than what we know and imagine of Chapalii technology.”

  “Furthermore,” said David, shaking a finger in front of his own lips, “it’s the only reasonable window of opportunity for the human migration that was needed to populate this planet. If the Tai-en Mushai moved an entire Homo sapiens population here to work as his—slaves? for his amusement? for who the hell knows what reason?—then that time frame would be reasonable. Hasn’t Tess found some correspondence between Rhuian languages and Earth languages?”

  “I don’t know why the Mushai brought humans here,” said Charles quietly, “but I do know from the evidence in that cylinder that he was using this as a base to foment rebellion against the emperor. If that was fifteen thousand years ago…have things really changed that much in the Empire? Have they changed so little?”

  Rajiv tapped his fingers lightly on the hard surface of his slate. “We will not know how much additional information was hidden within the interstices of that cylinder unless we can install it on the original equipment it came from, the equipment here. The Keinaba house consoles could only access the top layer of information, and there was clearly more coded in underneath.”

  “So.” Charles said the word and then said nothing for a long moment. Through the small window set high up in the wall, David saw stars and the thick leafy crowns of trees. “This we know. I think we have no choice but to call down an expert from Keinaba house.”

  “Call down a Chapalii?” Maggie asked. “On planet? That would be breaking your own interdiction.”

  Charles snorted. “I’m already breaking my own interdiction. And they’ve seen Chapalii here before. Any other objections?”

  Rajiv bent his head. “You know my feelings.”

  “What are your feelings?” Maggie demanded.

  Rajiv glanced up at her, his dark eyes glinting. “I suggested it. There is one technician I have worked with. She is one of these ke, one of the nameless ones of their lowest caste, but she is an artist with this machinery. I cannot forgive a society that condemns such intelligence and promise to that kind of subjugation for no better reason than that her parents were born of parents who were born of parents…and so on.” His eyes flashed with anger. His dark brows were drawn down, and a pulse beat in his jaw.

  “A Chapalii female!” Maggie exclaimed. “I’ve never met a Chapalii female. I thought they were all in purdah or something. Restricted. Secluded.”

  “It is true,” said Charles slowly, “that they are rarely together with Chapalii males. Beyond that, I have formed no sense of what their status is. But the Tai-en Naroshi offered me the services of his sister to design a mausoleum for Tess.”

  “How morbid. At least you didn’t take him up on it.”

  “But I did.” Charles smiled, not with amusement precisely but at some ironic joke. “They work at a slower pace than we do, though. Cara believes they’re quite long-lived.” He brushed his hands together briskly and stood up with decision. “Then if there is no more discussion, I’ll send for a deputation from Keinaba.”

  “But Charles,” said David, “can you trust them? Surely asking them to uncover this information—the Tai-en Mushai is almost a Lucifer kind of figure in their history, as far as I can tell. Or at least, that’s how Tess described him to me once. Will the Keinaba family agree to help you uncover his past? To start in motion what may prove to be another rebellion against their own emperor?”

  “I think that they’ll do anything I tell them to do. This is one way to test that.”

  David just shook his head. “You’re damned cool.”

  “Don’t forget that I saved their house from extinction by my intervention. They owe me everything. They are bound to me like—” He shrugged. “Well, aren’t there any historians here who can provide me with a good analogy?”

  David had known Charles for forty-five years now. He and Charles and the other Charles—who was now Marco—had gone to university together. David’s path had parted for a time from that of Charles after university, but in the end he had come back to him, to the cause, to the rebellion, to the endless struggle for freedom. David felt more and more that he knew Charles less well the longer they were together. As if the closer David got, the more Charles receded, or at least that the force repelling David grew stronger the longer he was exposed to it. Not that Charles was in any way cold to him, that he didn’t trust him, listen to him, even joke with him now and again in the way he used to when they were young, but that Charles himself was retreating far down into the depths of the Tai-en, the duke, the only human who had any true power within the Chapalii hierarchy. David loved Charles. He respected the duke, but he wasn't sure that he liked him much.

  “Where is Marco, anyway?” he asked, thinking of old times. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

  “Out scouting for a landing site, in the event we were forced to this decision. But I expect him—”

  Someone came running down the hall. A moment later the door burst open and Marco plunged into the room, pulling up short. “Just got a frantic message in from Tess. Christ in Heaven. She and Cara—” He swore fluidly and imaginatively in Ophiuchi-Sei. “She talked Cara into slipping Bakhtiian some damned serum or other to try for a temporary halt to his aging.”

  “What!” That was Jo. “But the physiological discrepancies could be lethal!”

  “Exactly. That’s what the message was about. Here, I’ll play it back for you.” He unhooked his slate from his belt and laid it on the table. With a pass of his hand over the shining surface, and a single spoken word, an image appeared above the slate, Tess’s image. Her message was garbled and almost incoherent, but one fact came through clearly: Bakhtiian had slipped into a coma and Cara didn’t know the likelihood of his ever coming out of it.

  “Goddess above,” swore Maggie. “Talk about breaking the interdiction.”

  “Well?” asked Marco after Tess’s image froze and he keyed it to vanish.

  “Did you find a good landing site?” Charles asked.

  There was silence, while everyone else sorted out the sudden change of subject.

  Marco blinked. He ran his left hand back through the thick shock of his hair. “Yes, in fact, I did. But what about—?”

  “If Cara is there, then there is nothing further I can do. Now. I’ll need a scrambled message, Rajiv, to be sent to Odys through Jeds and thence on to Keinaba. I want them to arrive as soon as possible. Marco, when is the new moon? I think we’ll have the best chance of getting them in unseen then.”

  “But Charles—” D
avid burst out. “What about Nadine? Surely she deserves to know. We don’t even know what kind of rules for succession they have. Won’t she want to ride back?”

  Rajiv had already opened up a branching pathway over his slate, encoding a signal and encryption into it. Marco had a strange, almost disturbing expression on his face as he watched Charles.

  “David,” said Charles, “I would dearly love to tell Nadine Orzhekov about her uncle’s illness. How am I to explain how we got the news so quickly?”

  “You’re right,” muttered David.

  “It would be damned convenient for you if he died,” added Marco in a low voice.

  “It might be,” said Charles. “In fact, it would be, and it’s damned inconvenient for me that I find myself standing here hoping that he doesn’t die. Because I rather like him.”

  “The Tempest,” said Maggie suddenly. “That’s the right analogy. Doesn’t the magician Prospero save everyone’s life? Aren’t they all bound to him, the humans and spirits both?”

  “What are you talking about?” David demanded.

  Charles laughed. “Doesn’t he play with all their lives? Thank you, Maggie. I’ll take that as a vote of confidence. I think. Jo, let’s go down to your room and you can show me how you reached your dating results.”

  They dispersed. Maggie following Charles and Jo out the door. Rajiv did not move, but he was well sunk into a working trance, manipulating his pathways in a shimmering three dimensions in the air above his slate. David sighed and moved to follow the others. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked Marco.

  “Which makes me Caliban,” said Marco under his breath. “And of course she plays Miranda.”

  “What?”

  Marco started. He shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Yes, let’s go see Jo’s results. So, David my boy, I hear you’re the spitfire’s new favorite.”