Children of God s-2

by Mary Doria Russel

  The gunshot and death squeal set off an explosion of reaction among the wildlife, and the VaRakhati staggered back, eyes wide and ears clamped shut. Joseba handed the pistol back to Nico, who trained it on the Jana’ata who’d spoken, but kept an eye on all of them—now frozen and visibly frightened. Walking to the carcass in the ensuing silence, Joseba bent and lifted the body by one leg, letting its blood drip educationally. "We have no ill will toward you," he said firmly. "Neither will we permit you to harm us."

  "Well put," said Emilio. He was breathing hard, but Carlo was right: bullets worked. "I am no one’s father," he said, staring at Rukuei. "Rather, I am the one you have named: Emilio Sandoz. At my word, this man Nico kills anyone who threatens us. Is that understood?"

  There were gestures of assent from all four VaRakhati. Dazed, Rukuei said vaguely, "My father knew you…"

  "In a manner of speaking," Sandoz said coldly. "How are you to be addressed?" he demanded in High K’San, assuming the belligerent tone of a ranking aristocrat. "Are you first-born or second?"

  The Jana’ata’s ears folded back slightly and there was an embarrassed shuffling among the others as he said, "I am freeborn. My mother was not a woman of standing. If you please: Rukuei Kitheri."

  "Christ Almighty," Sean Fein gasped. "Kitheri?"

  "You are son to Hlavin Kitheri?" Sandoz asked, but there was no doubt in his mind. The stamp of the father was clear, and the son’s chin lifted in confirmation. "You lie. Or you are a bastard," Sandoz snapped. The challenge was deliberate—a testing of response, a probing for flashpoint, knowing that Nico was at his side. "That Kitheri was Reshtar, and had no right to breed."

  Too stunned by the actuality of the encounter to react as he might have otherwise, Rukuei merely dropped his tail, but then the fourth person came forward and revealed himself to be Jana’ata as well.

  "I am Shetri Laaks." With the instructively dead froyil still dripping blood in one foreigner’s grip, Shetri kept his voice mild, but nevertheless used the dominant pronoun to invite dispute, if the foreigners were inclined to offer combat. "Rukuei is my wife’s cousin and I must not tolerate offense to my affinal kin. He has not lied, nor is he a bastard, but the song of his birth would take long to sing. I believe our purposes will be better served if none of us indulges in further insult."

  There was an uneasy silence as both parties waited for Sandoz to respond. "I grant parity," he said finally, and the tension relaxed fractionally. "You speak of purpose," he said, addressing Shetri.

  But it was Rukuei who answered him. "I know why you came here," he said, and noted the reaction: a quickening of breath, an intentness. "You came to learn our songs."

  "This is true," the small foreigner allowed. "Rather, it was once true." He stopped and drew himself up, throwing his head back to glare at them from a distance with small eyes, black and alien — not like Isaac’s, which were small but blue as normal eyes should be, and which had never stared like this. "We came because we believed you sang of truth, and of the Mind behind truth. We wished to learn what beauties this True Mind had revealed to you. But you sang of nothing beautiful," he said with insulting softness. "Your songs were of the pleasure to be found in unmerciful power, the satisfaction of crushing opposition, the enjoyment of irresistible force."

  "Everything is changed from those days," a Runao said. "This one is Kaj — pin," she told them, raising both hands to her forehead. "Now it is the southern Runa who enjoy such power. We VaN’Jarri are different."

  "We have one among us who has learned the music you sought—" Rukuei started.

  "If you want to hear it, you’ll have to come with us," Tiyat added quickly. "Isaac wishes you to—"

  There was a small convulsion among the humans. "Isaac," Sandoz repeated. "Isaac is a foreign name. Is the person you speak of one of us?"

  "Yes," said Shetri. "He is of your species, but he is not like his mother, nor like his sister—"

  "His sister!" Sandoz cried.

  "His sister, my wife, whose name is Ha’anala and whose foster mother was Sofia Mendes u Ku’in," Shetri continued, despite the uproar this provoked.

  "You knew my cousin’s sire," Rukuei said then, hoping to reassure Sandoz and the other foreigners, who were clearly upset. "Ha’anala is the daughter of my father’s sister and of Supaari whose landname was VaGayjur—"

  "This whole thing stinks to high heaven," Sean was muttering. "Why didn’t Isaac come here with you then?" he demanded in K’San. "Why hasn’t he contacted his mother? Does he live still, or do you merely use his name?"

  Not waiting for the answer, Joseba said in English, "What if they’re holding him hostage? Sandoz, what if they’re using him—"

  "Hostage!" Kajpin cried, startling them with her knowledge of English. "That’s Athaansi’s game!"

  "We do not hold hostages," Rukuei began.

  "Nico," Sandoz said quietly, "take that man down."

  Before anyone else could move, Rukuei Kitheri had been slammed to the ground and was choking wide-eyed on the gun that Nico had jammed into his mouth with professional efficiency.

  "Hear me, Kitheri: if you are tired of life, lie to me now," Sandoz suggested, dropping to his knees to whisper his threat. "How many are there in your party today? Nico, let him talk."

  "Four," Rukuei said, the taste of steel in his mouth. "Truly. Only those you see."

  "If there are more, I will have you and them killed—you last. Do you believe me?" Rukuei lifted his chin, the gorgeous eyes wide with a satisfying fear. "I say you hold the foreigner Isaac against his will. I say you use him as your father used me."

  "These people are crazy!" Tiyat cried above him.

  Without taking his eyes off Rukuei, Sandoz shouted, "I will hear this man’s words! Speak, Kitheri: is the foreigner Isaac alive?"

  "Yes! Isaac is a person of honor among the VaN’Jarri," said Rukuei, swallowing uselessly, dry-mouthed and confused. "He left the southern Runa many years ago of his own volition. He is free to go or stay. He chooses to stay among us. He likes our songs—"

  "Sipaj, Sandoz, we could have taken you hostage last night as you slept!" Kajpin pointed out, too exasperated by this inexplicable hostility to sway. "It was Rukuei’s idea to be honest with you! The escort from Gayjur will be here soon—"

  "How do you know that?" Sean demanded, but Kajpin went on, "It is we-but-not-you who are in danger! We are no threat to you. We need you, and we have something to offer in return, but if we’re captured, we’ll be executed!"

  Emboldened by the small foreigner’s stillness, Shetri knelt at Sandoz’s side, and spoke with quiet urgency. "The last three times the VaN’Jarri tried to make contact with the government in Gayjur, our delegates were killed on sight. Please. Listen to me. We wish an agreement with the southerners, but the VaGayjuri will not negotiate with us because my nephew Athaansi keeps raiding Runa villages, and we are all held responsible!" He stopped, and calmed himself. "Hear me, Sandoz. I will stand surety. If we lie, if we deceive you in any way, then have me killed as that froyil was killed. I will be your hostage."

  "We as well," Kajpin said, standing with Tiyat.

  "I also offer you my neck," said Rukuei Kitheri, from the ground. "But you will have to go to Isaac, for he will not come to you. We can take you to him, but you have to trust us. Some of us believe that Isaac has learned the music of the True Mind, which you sought, but he will not come to you to teach it."

  "Lies," Sandoz said at last. "You say what we wish to hear—"

  "How could we know what you wish to hear?" Tiyat cried.

  With a sudden short gasp, Sandoz staggered to his feet and walked a few paces away, his back to them all. "Let him up, Nico," he snapped, but did not turn, unable to sustain the pose any longer. He felt sick, and he needed time to think. "Watch them," he flung back over his shoulder, and strode away.

  IT WAS HARD TO SAY WHICH GROUP WAS MORE RELIEVED TO SEE SANDOZ go, but with his intimidating presence removed from their midst, there was a distinct lessening
of strain all around.

  "It would be a shame to let that froyil go to waste," Shetri commented to Joseba Urizarbarrena once Sandoz was out of hearing, and the hunter in Joseba agreed. So a fire was prepared, and the froyil gutted and hung on a spit, and other provisions brought from the boat by Tiyat, under guard. As meat and vegetables roasted, Sean and Joseba and even Nico questioned hard, and listened hard, and considered at some length what they had been told: whether it was accurate, and what it might imply. In the end, they went to Sandoz.

  He was a few hundred meters away, sitting hunched and haggard on the ground. "Nico, why aren’t you watching them, as you were told?" he demanded, hiding behind as much severity as he could still muster.

  "They don’t want to run away. They’re waiting for us to go with them," Nico said mildly. "Don Emilio, I had a thought: if we find out where Isaac lives, Signora Sofia will be pleased." The pistol was still in his hand and he kept an eye on his charges, just in case. "Don Carlo will know where we are," he said, glancing at the small lump on his forearm where the GPS transmitter capsule was lodged. "We have guns, and they don’t."

  "We’re not going anywhere with them. We’re waiting here for Sofia’s escort," Sandoz said, not moving from the ground.

  Joseba looked at Sean and then said, "Nico, would you please get Don Emilio some water? Perhaps a little something very plain to eat?" Nico nodded and trudged off toward the camp as Joseba sat down across from Emilio. "Sandoz, do you have any idea what the population of the Jana’ata was, when you were here before?" he asked.

  Sandoz shrugged, eyes dull, not really caring that it was starting to rain again. "No. I don’t know. Except that it was about three or four percent of the prey population. Maybe six hundred thousand? That’s just guess." He looked at Joseba. "Why do you ask?"

  Sean and Joseba exchanged glances, and Sean sat down as well. "Listen, Sandoz, the buggers may be lying, but that Rukuei says there’re only about fifteen hundred Jana’ata left now." Sandoz looked up sharply and Sean went on. "The Runa’ve rousted them all off the land. They’re scattered, but there’re two main groups of several hundred apiece, plus some pockets of survivors too scared t’go near anyone else. The VaN’Jarri live in a valley on their own. They’ve got barely three hundred Jana’ata among them, with about six hundred Runa in the same settlement."

  Joseba leaned forward. "Carnivores generally need at least two thousand individuals, with two hundred and fifty breeding pairs, just to keep the population genetically healthy. Even if Rukuei is underestimating the total, the Jana’ata are very close to extinction," he whispered, as though to speak aloud of this prediction would make it come true. "If he’s overestimating it, they’re probably doomed." He sat for a while, working it through. "It makes sense, Sandoz. From what we’ve seen and what Shetri says, the Jana’ata must be living at the absolute margins of their ecological range. Even without the collapse of civilization, this species would be on the edge."

  "There’s more," Sean said, a little loudly now that the rain had begun in earnest. "There’s something goin’ on up in the north. I had t’ask twice t’be sure of what I was hearin’, but when we asked about them eatin’ that froyil, one of them—that Shetri—told us the VaN’Jarri Jana’ata are near t’starvin’. They won’t eat Runa." Sandoz looked at him, narrow-eyed. "Brace yersalf: the phrase he used was, The meat’s not kosher." Sandoz reared back, and Sean raised a hand. "I swear that’s what he said. Apparently this man Shetri’s wife, Hanala or whatever her name is, was raised by Sofia Mendes in the south, among the Runa."

  Joseba said, "Obviously, there has been a certain amount of cultural exchange. Shetri says his wife is a teacher, but Sandoz—the title he used was ’rabbi’. It’s possible that these men are simply lying about not eating Runa, but look at them! They’re thin, their coats are dull, they’re missing teeth—"

  "And they’re travelin’ with two fine, fat Runa, who don’t seem a bit concerned about becomin’ anybody’s breakfast." Sean hesitated before going on. "And, Sandoz," he said, "listenin’ t’this Kitheri? Well, it seems to me that Hanala may be a sort of… I don’t know, but I ask myself, What if Moses had been an Egyptian, raised among the Hebrews?"

  Sandoz sat open-mouthed, trying to take this in. "You’re serious?" he asked, and when Sean nodded, Sandoz cried, "Oh, for God’s sake!"

  "Precisely," Joseba agreed, and watched without moving as Sandoz stood, soaked to the skin.

  "You’re hearing what you want to hear!" Sandoz accused. "You’re imposing your own folklore on this culture!"

  "Perhaps we are," Joseba agreed, from his seat in the mud, "but I came here as both an ecologist and a priest. I want to know about this. I am going north with them, Sandoz. Sean wants to go, too. You can stay here with Nico and wait for Sofia’s people to arrive. All we ask is that you don’t give them away. We’ll take our chances with them—"

  With Nico’s approach, they fell silent and watched as Sandoz drank water from the canteen and got a little food into himself, refusing to discuss this nonsense further.

  But Nico, ordinarily the quietest of them, had something on his mind. "Don Emilio, one of those Jana people has a bad dream like yours," he said, wiping his wet hair back out of his eyes. Sandoz stared at him, and Nico continued, "He dreams of a city burning. He told me. It’s from when he was a little boy, he says, but he’s seen you there. In the city. In his dream. I think you should ask him about it."

  WHICH IS WHY, AFTER CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONAL INTERROGATION AND discussion, eight people of three species finally went north together in secrecy and foul weather. They did not tell Carlo Giuliani of their decision, concerned that the radio was being monitored by the Gayjur government. Knowing now the danger the VaN’Jarri were in, it was Joseba’s suggestion that they remove their GPS implants—a small cut each, nothing to be concerned about.

  They intended to travel as quickly and inconspicuously as they could, but if anyone questioned them, their story would be simple. The foreigners were friends to Fia. Shetri and Rukuei were VaHaptaa mercenaries who were leading these Runa and the foreigners to the last stronghold of the predators who’d preyed on the Runa since time began. When the place was known, the army could come and clean the last of the djanada out, and then they would be gone, forever.

  The VaN’Jarri believed that this was all merely a convincing lie. In fact, it was very nearly the precise truth.

  Nico d’Angeli had not really understood what Joseba said about minimum breeding population and species collapse, nor had he followed much of the talk of revolution or religion. But Nico understood very well what Frans had told him before landfall. "I can’t find you if you take the GPS implant out, Nico. The people on the Magellan were all lost—no one knows what happened to them, capisce? Never remove this, Nico. As long as you have a transmitter with you, I can find you."

  So while the others were loading the boat and making ready to leave, Nico slowly came to the conclusion that it was best for Don Carlo and Frans to know where they were going, even if the others didn’t think so. That was why he retrieved one of the discarded implants and put it in his pocket.

  He meant no harm.

  Central Inbrokar

  October 2078, Earth-Relative

  THEY WENT BY RIVER AT FIRST, JANA’ATA AND HUMANS CROWDED INTO the cargo hold, their Runa conspirators topside, calling out greetings to sodden barge passengers and crew as their wakes crossed. The powerboat’s batteries were as silent as sail and its passengers almost as quiet, even when there was no one to hear them. One human or another would think of some objection to what he had been told, and would say what was on his mind, and have his doubts assuaged. The VaN’Jarri, too, would venture a question now and then, but the one most eaten by desire to know about the foreigners was also the one most frightened of Sandoz, who had barely spoken since agreeing to go as far as Inbrokar City with them. So Rukuei kept quiet as well.

  Not wanting to compromise their safe houses by duplicating their route south, they left the
river behind on their second day. Tiyat and Kajpin let the others off near a cave a few cha’ari short of the Tolal bridgehead, and then went on alone, returning the powerboat to the livery, where Tiyat made a show of disputing the damage done to the hull when they’d run the boat aground. Finally Kajpin waved the extra charge off and said expansively, "It’s only money! Pay the woman—we’ll make it up on that rakar deal." Which led to comfortable small talk about the new rakar plantations, and then to amiable farewells, called loudly over the pounding rain as Tiyat and Kajpin moved off toward town.

  "It’s only money," Tiyat echoed irritably, as they stopped in the Tolal market district and spent their last few bahli on salt.

  "Don’t worry," Kajpin told her when they were out of earshot, heading out of town on a road that went northeast. "We can jump a caravan next season!" When they were sure no one was behind them, they veered overland and doubled back toward the south at a trot.

  Reunited at the cave without further incident, the party left roads and rivers behind and traveled instead through an endless rolling landscape. Stopping periodically to listen and watch and stand nose to the wind, the VaN’Jarri became increasingly confident that they’d escaped detection. Indeed, there was little left in this monstrous, lovely, depopulated land that bore the imprint of mortal mind or hand. For hours, walking without haste but without rest, they saw nothing but low-growing clumps of lavender-leaved plants with bell-shaped blooms that nodded on wiry stems, battered by rain as warm as blood, and heard nothing but the drumming of rain and the squelching of footsteps, and the lilt of Nico’s singing.

  "You don’t mind?" Sandoz asked the Runa as they walked. "Someone could ask Nico to stop singing."

  "I don’t mind," Kajpin said.