by Chris Reher
* * *
Much later that evening, Aletha lay wide-awake in her bed, listening to the night. For once the incessant patter of rain falling on the lush vegetation outside the open window was unable to lull her to sleep. Water gurgled through a spout to strike some well-placed instrument in the garden as a gentle counterpoint to the rain. Occasionally, the breeze brushed through a distant wind chime to add an ephemeral refrain. The alien conversations of nocturnal animals completed the arrangement as they vied for food, or mates, or space.
Aletha slipped from her blankets and walked to the window, intending to close it against the night noises. But the damp air greeting her at the window felt wonderfully refreshing, cooling her body without chilling her. Delighted, she leaned out to breathe deeply of the night air, wondering if she had drunk too much wine tonight.
The party had wound to a close long after the twins had left the festivities. Aletha, too, had retired while there were still people here enjoying themselves. Gradually, the great house had quieted as the guests either left or were shown to private rooms, there to sleep or to continue more private merrymaking. But instead of falling asleep then, Aletha was kept awake by nagging thoughts about Galen and Chor.
She realized that, although they had undoubtedly saved her life and had treated her with nothing but polite deference, she was no longer sure that this peculiar course of events was truly the path she ought to take. She knew so little about them and what she did know only confused her. Was she really prepared to travel alone with two men who were complete strangers to her?
Her life these past few years among the wharves and alleys of Phrar Thali had taught her something about the unsavory side of human existence. Which of those sometimes painful lessons had prepared her to leave this moon, her home, for a place of which she knew so little? By the twins’ account, she was going to a world preparing for war, not the sort of local skirmish so common here but an all-or-nothing confrontation between the Homeworlders and the gods of Chenoweth. Yet here she was, ready to leave everything she knew and follow these strangers to wherever they may lead her. Why?
Their story was intriguing. The idea that there was a place where she would go unpunished for using her strange talents, where she would be encouraged to hone them and use them to help people, was almost too wonderful to imagine.
She could not deny the far more basic appeal that was pushing her to accept their offer. Galen, especially, made no effort to disguise his interest and feeling those soft eyes on her had begun to touch her in some interesting ways. Was she thinking clearly?
Aletha looked forlornly over the verdant vegetation of the garden. This was her home, and none of the wonders of the Homeworld, nor any obligations to some long-lost family, would change that. But the temptation the twins offered was overpowering. To remain on Thali moon would mean denying her gifts and any hope of testing their limits. Here she would always be a swindler and thief, skulking about in the slums and spending her days in eluding the emissaries. Aletha smiled sorrowfully, finding herself once more firmly on solid ground, now surely able to sleep. Her decision was made.
She leaned out to close the shutter when something in the gardens below caught her attention. Two figures moved along the vine-covered walkway connecting the main building with the bathhouse. When the door opened, light from inside outlined their easily recognized silhouettes in stark relief. What would the twins be doing in the bathhouse in the middle of the night? Was Chor ill, after all?
She considered only briefly and not very carefully. She had questions for them and perhaps Delann’s advice that she should work out her suspicions before leaving with the twins was well-founded. Perhaps it was time to really talk with Galen. Resolutely, she slipped out of her room and into the hall.
* * *
“Galen,” the sweet voice purred. “My love, how very kind of you to notice my call at last. I’ve been tugging on your sleeve for hours.”
Galen tried to avoid the woman's eyes, balling his fists to remain calm. The vision swam in front of his face and he was forced to look upon the La'il. She was a slight woman, clothed in rich, clinging fabric and a mass of white hair, her beauty the cold elegance of marble. Nothing visible hinted at her immense presence, in complete control of all power on the Homeworld. Her mind probed into his like a dark tentacle. “I noticed,” he said, offering the words grudgingly. “I couldn't leave. What do you want?”
“I've missed you,” she smiled. She lifted her hand to caress him and, in spite of the thousands of miles that separated them, he felt the silken fabric of her sleeve brush his cheek and neck. Her image hovered close to him and he strained back, helpless in her power. Her heady scent enveloped him and her heat blasted him like a furnace.
He tried an indifferent shrug. “You sent me here. You’ll have to live without me.”
The vision swam backward and he dared to breathe, taking deep gulps of the humid air to clear his lungs of her intoxicating scent. He could hear the rustle of her robes and perhaps even the whisper of skin as one leg brushed the other. Her white hair billowed like seaweed in a gentle current.
“I'll bring you back,” she promised. “Soon. I see you have found my dear, dear sister.”
“Wasn’t easy! There is something strange in the way she’s learned to manage her talent. I think they all try to hide it – makes them hard to find in a crowd. Aletha is practically invisible to me unless I scan very deeply and there just isn’t enough chi’ro here to do that. But when she’s handling chi, or even just walks into a riser, she lights up like a torch! She is the one you’re looking for.”
“Does she trust you?”
“I think so,” he said, glad that she seemed to be in an amicable mood. He began to relax and the pounding of his heart subsided. “This is a strange place. Few risers and the ones I can find are weak and don’t regenerate very quickly. No wonder they've lost their talents. I don’t know how they learned to manage without chi’ro. I’m losing strength by the day, it seems.”
The La'il frowned. “What else?”
“Not a bad place, if you like fish. These are good people, for the most part, and the moon is very beautiful. But some odd bit of de-evolution’s happened here. These are farmers and fishermen, mostly, and some hunters in the forests. Everything here revolves around the water, the miserable weather, tides, seafaring, pirates. No fossil fuels in use, no significant machinery or industry. Schools are rudimentary and doctors are little more than lucky guessers. Those with any common sense seek out people like Aletha to get healed. Slavery is part of the economy as much as clan warfare and barter commerce. And religion and fortune telling! They shun anyone with any real talent, even hunt and murder them. It seems most of the time they just round up anyone who appears peculiar. Adepts are called Descendants here. She’s in danger, like you suspected. When I found her she was being held captive, overdosed on chibane. They use the stuff to subdue the Descendants they capture, to keep them from casting some evil spell on them or something.”
“Can you tell if it damaged her?”
“She seems fine. Did you know that they blame us for what happened with Chenoweth? The primes that were here at the time got turned into gods. They believe that Chenoweth is heaven and Dazai is alive and up there, too! For some very strange reason, you are lumped in with the gods. Tell me, Holy One, how long have you been around?”
“Farmers and fishermen!” she scoffed. Galen tried to prod her, nudging her mentally into giving something away. None of his findings seemed to surprise her. She appeared oblivious to his intrusion. “Gods, indeed! Barbarians! It's time you started to make your way to the launch in the mountains. I should be able to bring you home soon.”
“We'll be there. You didn't answer me, Great One. Have you visited here since the gates closed or are you really that ancient?” He tried to look into her mind, carefully probing through her defenses like someone trying to dislodge a nest of hornets. But he had misread her mood. With no more than a mental shrug, she slam
med him out of her mind, sending Chor reeling to the floor and leaving Galen in a great deal of pain. “Don't even try, Galen!” she snapped. With another thought she flung him across the room where he crashed painfully into a basin and slashed his shoulder on a broken tile. “Remember your place!”
Groaning, Galen tried to gain his feet. His head ached. He groped for Chor who was lying motionless on the ground. “Can’t you leave him out of this?”
“He’s all right,” La'il said. “It’s time for you to return to the mountains.”
“We're leaving in a day or two,” Galen said, angry now. He pulled himself up, his shoulder on fire, blood soaking his blouse. Now that she had displayed her temper by hurting his body, his fear had given way to anger, as usual. His rage reached across the thousands of miles between them and she smiled when she felt it enter her like a draught of strong liquor. He cursed himself for giving in so easily. Again. “We're going by boat. Apparently faster that way.”
“Does she know who she is?”
“I told her why she’s needed on the Homeworld. She knows nothing about you.” Galen shrugged out of his shirt and used it to wipe the blood from his shoulder. The tile had cut nearly to the bone. “Except of course the part about you being the favorite goddess up here, champion of the downtrodden. She has no idea about the extent of her abilities. She's discovered some tricks along the way on her own. The good townspeople fear her and avoid her, unless it’s to have their palms and tea leaves read. She’s got some talent as a healer. No one's publicly accused her of being a witch. Yet. She has never been taught to use her talents properly.”
“I'll take care of that. It is best that she does not discover her true abilities until she is home. Tell her nothing more. Much safer that way. We cannot risk any accidents while you’re so isolated.”
“She’s got to know sooner or later. What they fear most here, besides the wrath of Chenoweth, are giants. There are some pretty terrible legends about them, from what I’ve seen so far. It’s going to be hard for her when she gets to the Homeworld and finds out about us. I can’t keep lying to her.”
She sighed as if indulging the whim of a child. “You don’t have to lie. Just don’t volunteer anything. She is one of us. She will be, again. This won’t matter once she’s here. Don’t jeopardize her willingness to come here with scary stories. Just get her here and let us worry about how she’ll adjust.”
“Will you let her return here if she doesn’t?”
“Just bring her home.”
“She likes it here, she has friends in this place. She would not be happy if you didn't allow her—”
“That is not your concern, Galen!”
He shrugged. “I like her. I am concerned.”
The vision swam nearer, hovering before him. “I suggest you do not like her. Once she is here you won't see her again. It will not matter to you.” He felt her hands touch his bare chest and tried to turn away.
“Stop that.”
“Bring her to me,” she whispered. Her lips brushed his ear. “She is in danger on Thali. She will always be in danger there. You know that Chenoweth is also trying to find her. If they can’t find a way to use her against us, they will destroy her. And if you stand in their way they will kill you, too.” She gestured at Chor. “They'll kill both of you, or one. It would be the same, wouldn't it? Chor is everything to you, isn't he?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Galen said, feeling her cool hands on his feverish skin and unable to stop her. “We'll be safe once we leave this town.”
She laughed. “You won't be safe until you have returned. To me.” She seemed to be all around him now, writhing in the air, her robe revealing glimpses of smooth skin as she turned. “Just don't return without her.”
Galen felt a familiar haze of fury settle over him, not brought about by his loathing for her, but by her skillful tampering of his brain. “No,” he gasped. “Not now. Not here. Leave me alone.” He looked into her lovely face, hating her.
With a flash of her jewel eyes she reminded him of a night, or ten nights, they had spent together. He closed his eyes against the memory, recalling the mindless hate and rage she had woken in him then.
He shook his head, slowly. “No,” he breathed, watching the vision drift before him. Something within him clamored to turn away, to refuse her intrusion, flee from this place if necessary, but he pushed that voice aside to reach for the woman, eager to relive her past tortures. His fingers grasped her robe even as she began to fade from his thoughts. Her laughter receded into the distance despite the hand that he closed around her neck.
“Now is hardly the time,” she grinned but he saw fear in her eyes. Fear?
Even locked within his boundless hatred for her, the creature that owned him, he was surprised that she would let him overpower her so effortlessly. She, who fed on his fury like others thrived on love, easily matched him in physical strength. The power of her mind would never allow him to triumph over her if she did not wish it.
“Too easy!” he snarled. “Are you bored down there without me?”
The La'il laughed. “You forget,” she said dryly, “that this all in your head.” The mental blow she dealt him shocked him out of his insane mood like water thrown onto fire. She disappeared, leaving him dazed but aware of his hand still gripping Aletha's throat.
Galen released her at once, unable to bite back a coarse expletive. When he moved away he saw that her clothes were torn.
Aletha leaped away from him and backed toward the bathhouse doorway. She turned to run and stopped only when she collided painfully with Chor standing in her way. She recoiled from him, too aware that a scream from within this secluded building would not be heard at the main house.
“You should not have come in here.”
“He hurt me!”
Chor nodded. “You’re in no danger now.”
She glanced around him to the door, ready for flight.
He sighed impatiently. “Use the talents you have, Aletha! Feel me.” He raised his arms as if actually expecting her to touch him. “You know you have nothing to fear here.” He gestured at her torn night robe. “Cover yourself.” He moved to his brother, apparently sure that she wasn't about to run screaming into the night. He helped Galen to a low stone bench and examined the deep cut inflicted by the broken tile, dabbing at it with a towel. He did this wordlessly, without emotion. “Let me explain,” he said finally.
“You? Why you? You were lying on the floor. I saw you. I thought maybe he hurt you, too. How do you know what happened?” Aletha looked from one to the other. “I was right! You know what he's thinking, don't you? You two can talk with your minds. That's why you don't speak to each other. You don't have to.”
“No, we don't have to.”
“You could have told me!”
“I thought it was obvious.” Chor fell silent, his attention on stanching the blood still pouring from Galen’s wound, and left his twin to defend himself.
Galen raised his head, looking very tired. “I am sorry about what happened here,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I... I was dreaming, a vision, whatever. There is someone I hate very much. You disturbed that vision. I did not know it was you.”
“That's it?” she demanded. “That's all?”
He nodded.
“And perhaps next time you take a nap you'll take a knife to my throat?”
A brief flash of anger crossed his face. “I did not ask you to follow me here.”
“You knew this vision would visit you. That's why you were acting so strange tonight. That's why you left the house and came here. Who is this woman you hate so much?”
Galen looked up, startled. “What woman?”
“I heard her laugh. I think. Maybe it was in my head. Who is she?”
“No one important. It doesn’t matter.”
“I will not go anywhere with you as long as you lie to me. Explain this or go back to the Homeworld without me.”
“You won’t like my an
swer.”
“Tell me who that was!”
Galen looked at his twin, taking a while to consider his words. When Aletha shifted impatiently, about to repeat her question, he replied. “The La'il.”
Aletha stared from one to the other. She tried a confused smile, certain that she had heard wrong. “What?”
He nodded, already regretting his reply, voiced for no other reason than to spite the La’il.
“What are you saying? La'il? The Goddess? Our Goddess?”
“Your Goddess.”
Slowly, Aletha let herself slide down along a wall until she sat on the floor, her arms wound tightly around her knees. “I don't think I understand. You are visited by the Great Mentor, the One who defied Chenoweth? Why? Why is she sending you visions?”
“More like projections.”
She frowned, grappling with what this man was trying to tell her.
“She is on the Homeworld, Aletha. She sent me here to find you.”
“She… what…” Angrily, Aletha raised her voice. “She speaks to you? What does she tell you? Why do you hate her?”
“Aletha, you will soon learn and see things that will be strange to you. You have to accept that some of the things you've always taken for granted are nothing like they should be.”
“Tell me about the La'il!”
He sighed. Having begun now, he saw no way of extricating himself from where this was heading. “She is not a goddess. Not the way you think of gods, anyway. I don't know how or why your people here know of her. True, she rules the Homeworld by the power of her mind. She has made many magnificent things possible there. She can...” he faltered when he realized that he was likely well on his way to describing what would pass as a god on this moon. “I mean she’s not the only one who can do these things. She’s a Descendant like you and me. She just does it better.”
Aletha’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you are gods, too.”
He shrugged tiredly. “To you maybe we are. But we are not all-powerful. Not even the La’il is. She can't rule this moon. Nor can she reach the colony on Chenoweth. Not now. To ourselves, we are just ordinary people.”