The Last Dancer

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by The Last Dancer (new ed) (mobi)


  She nodded, turned away from him, and Dvan followed Her. The dress left Her shoulders and most of Her back free, and Dvan found himself watching the smooth shift of muscles beneath Her skin. They went back through a wall of hanging soft curtains, to a slightly enclosed area lit by a single living Flame.

  Dvan seated himself cross-legged on the cushions arrayed before Her, with the Flame between them.

  To the extent that he could read meaning in Her mannerisms--and Dvan did not fool himself to think that he made much of what was there--She seemed troubled. She began without preamble: "Dvan, I am concerned for you. You speak with the heretic."

  "My lady, I do. I have been selected for that duty."

  "He attempts to subvert you?"

  "My lady, he does. It is to be expected; there were Shield among his rebels. He has not attempted a Speaking; he would gain little by one, aside from his death and mine."

  Saliya made a dismissive gesture. "I am not concerned with any attempt he might make at Speaking. But words are dangerous even when not crafted to touch a man's soul, and Sedon is a master of such persuasion. It concerns me, Dvan, that you listen to him."

  "My lady, he makes interesting arguments."

  "And you have had half a year of them."

  "My lady, aye."

  "You have been praying a great deal recently."

  "My lady, I have needed to cleanse my thoughts."

  "What heresies has he spouted at you?"

  Dvan hesitated. "My lady, a wide variety. In many instances, I think they are perhaps not even heresies, simply matters that are not commonly taught the Shield. I do not know where to begin in numbering them."

  "What has he said of our destination?"

  "My lady, that it is the home of our ancestors, the world from which our Masters took us; that it is better suited to our kind than the World, warmer, with light better for our eyes, gravity better suited to our bones."

  "These things are true," Saliya said simply. "The records were found in the Temple at Kulien, finally decoded not many centuries before you were born. The planet is that from which we came. A horrifying place, in many respects, wild and bloody. Yet the scenes I have been shown, taken of its surface by the first ship to visit it, are in some ways beautiful. You will see colors you have never known before, eat foods so well suited to our digestion they do not even require treatment to remove amino acids we cannot digest; can be eaten plucked straight from the plants on which they grow. Carnivores exist, on the land and in the sea, of such a size that you have never dreamed their like, things larger than any human of the Flame People, even yourself. Such things have not existed on the World since the first Zaradin settled there, many millions of years ago."

  "My lady, he says there are people there."

  "Heresy," she said sharply, "there are not. There are creatures that resemble us. Lacking the improvements the Zaradin made in us, they do not speak; do not make tools, or use them. They do not even look so very much like us, being made with heavy brows and thick bones. But--" She spoke with obvious reluctance "--there is no question that they are our distant relatives, left behind when the Zaradin took our ancestors to serve and amuse them."

  Dvan ventured to ask the question. "My lady, do you remember the Zaradin?"

  He thought the question might have offended Her; She answered shortly. "No. The Desertion took place before my birth. Dvan, what religious instruction have you received, and what history?"

  "My lady," said Dvan softly: "In the beginning was the Flame, and the Flame was life. We who came after saw the Flame, and rejoiced, and Danced in its beauty."

  The Keeper smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. "Very good. But that is not what I mean. You have had basic instruction, and done well at it, or you would not be guarding the heretics; and you have had the training in warcraft given all Shield."

  The last was not quite a question; it was barely possible, given his youth, that Dvan was a new recruit, shipped while still in training specifically because of his great size and immense piety. Dvan nodded, and saw Her relax slightly. "Good. Then you have much of the background you need. I have discussed this with your Sentinel, and he is in agreement with me; your ignorance is dangerous to you, when exposed to the likes of Sedon. You are young for the burden of this knowing," Saliya said gently, "but its lack may harm you more. Hold my hands, child, and listen."

  And so Dvan found himself staring into Her eyes while Her nervous system came into contact with his, and after a short while had passed found himself breathing in rhythm with Her.

  And listening while She talked.

  It was, said Saliya, about five billion years ago that the first intelligent biological races arose. Before then there were other sentients in the universe, creatures of plasma and crystal; but the eldest biological life were the--She made a long sound, the hissing of a reptile--Sssrathin. They were our Masters, and with the passage of time the proper pronunciation of their name has been altered, both by our palates and that of their other servant races, the Dalmastran and Tamrann, to Zaradin.

  It was our Masters who created the Craft, and among our Masters that the first Names arose, the first small Gods of what is called today the Zaradin Church. From among the ranks of the Names came the Great Gods, some Zaradin, some not; and it was among the ranks of the Great Gods that conflict arose.

  One of the heresies Sedon has doubtless shared with you is, alas, no heresy; the Zaradin warred.

  Among themselves.

  It is the conflict you have heard spoken of as the Time Wars, led by Rho Haristi on one side and Ran Rikhall on the other.

  If you are like most Shield, then you have never believed in the Time Wars, for you have been given no reason to, have in subtle ways been led to believe otherwise. But the Time Wars were real, and they ended only twelve thousand years ago. Information concerning the conflict, why it began and why it ended, are missing from the records the Zaradin left behind when they Deserted us; with one exception, I could not tell you more about the Time Wars if I wished to.

  That exception is this:

  Once there were eight-sided altars on the World.

  You have never seen one, Dvan. Long before you were born, the last eight-sided altar was destroyed; some during the Splinter Wars, others by the Aneda after the Splinter Wars ended. Do you know which Gods were left missing from the eight-sided altars?

  My lady, Sedon has said to me that it was the Name Storyteller, Kayell'no, and the Nameless One, God of Players.

  Indeed. We do not know why this dichotomy existed, Dvan, except that many of us think it had something to do with the nature of the conflict that caused the Time Wars.

  So, the Zaradin Deserted us, as they Deserted the Dalmastran, and in the riots and wars that followed, and the peace that followed the wars, we destroyed every Temple on the World that held an eight-sided altar within its walls. We prayed at the ten-sided altars, and there, under the gaze of the Nameless One, began to learn the lore of the Zaradin. Not all of it, to be sure, and many of us doubt we will ever learn all of it; but what power remained in their altars we made our own, wrapped it in a form different from those the Zaradin once used, one better suited to our people than the Zaradin Craft.

  We brought the bright Flame down to the World, called it forth from the left hand of the Nameless One and made it immanent in the World. We think it is a thing the Zaradin themselves never did; to bring the Flame, one must Dance, and that was beneath the dignity of our Masters.

  Some three million years ago, while the Time Wars still raged, a group of Zaradin soldiers--our Masters--exploring in the far reaches of the spiral arm in which we are located, opened a spacelace tunnel and found themselves in the system from which our ancestors came. Planets with indigenous life are, Dvan, a rarity in this galaxy; the Zaradin were intrigued, and they made planetfall. They found there a tribe of our ancestors, and they took some of our ancestors with them when they left. We are the result. We are what they made of us, servants, pets, toys
for their children; obedient and attentive.

  My lady, if the Zaradin were to return, would we return to their service?

  Saliya did not answer the question. Twelve thousand years ago, Dvan, the Time Wars ended. The Great Gods of the Church, once present in the universe, vanished, and the race of the Zaradin as well. They did not tell us where they were going, or why, or even that they would; neither did they tell the Dalmastran; and the Tamrann, so far as we know, vanished with our Masters. One day twelve thousand years ago every Zaradin on the surface of the World walked into a Temple, and did not come out again. Many days passed before our forebears grew brave enough to enter the Temples to look for our Masters; no human had ever been inside a Temple before.

  Much of what is left you will have been taught; our Masters were truly gone, and the Splinter Wars followed. The Flame People were the only survivors of that conflict. While we warred among ourselves, the sleem arose and spread out over the territories our Masters had abandoned. They are that rarest of biological life, based not on nucleic acid in a water solution, but on silicon in a fluorosilicone solution; the Great God Lesu Orodan is one of them.

  They are not conquerors, in one sense; they wish only to deny us the right of expansion, as they have denied it to other species. Those who submitted to the sleem have been allowed to keep the territory they had; attempts at expansion have been met with terrible destruction.

  But it is not in the Flame People to be ruled, not even such a rule as the sleem would impose. Today we are engaged in a great conflict with the sleem; that we are less formidable than other foes, that they have not traced us back through the spacelace tunnels to the World, these things have saved us until now. But we are four planetary systems arrayed against a race that has conquered better than thirty thousand such systems.

  This, Dvan, is where Sedon's actions strike home. That he proclaims our Masters folk like ourselves, who had merely a few steps start on us; this we might have dealt with. Others among the Flame People, among the Aneda and the Keepers, feel the same; Sedon might have been forgiven this heresy. Even his greater and more shocking heresy, his bending of the Flame to his service, is in some ways impressive. He has done things with the Flame I would have sworn impossible, and had he brought this discovery to us, we might have explored it together, Keepers and Dancers alike.

  Instead, Dvan, he lied to the Aneda, lied to the Keepers sent to interrogate him; taught the mastery of the Flame to his acolytes, and together they rose in a rebellion that diverted us from seeking a means to survive the expansion of the sleem. He has put us at risk from which we may well not recover--the Sphere Project, in particular, our best hope to protect ourselves against the sleem, was badly damaged in the fighting, more badly damaged than has been common knowledge.

  Saliya was silent for a long moment. Had he been anything other than the greatest living Dancer since the end of the Splinter Wars, we would have taken his life for it.

  As he took the lives of those who fought against him.

  They sat together in the cool shadows, the warmth of the living Flame gentle against Dvan's skin.

  "My lady, much of what you say to me, Sedon has also said."

  "I know. It is why I share it with you; it is better that you learn of these things from me, rather than from him."

  "My lady, inasmuch as I am disturbed by anything, I am disturbed by the fact that he is allowed to say these things, that we have made such great effort to spare the lives of those who rose in rebellion. May I speak?"

  "You may."

  "My lady, were it my decision, I would have seen them dead on the World, and their bodies returned to the processing plants."

  "Could you have killed a Dancer, Dvan?"

  "My lady, I believe so. The martial skills they are taught are not so different from our own, and we study them as we study our own discipline. It was my great regret that their rebellion did not reach the home of the Tbad. It would have been a great honor to Shield the Keepers of the Tbad Flame."

  She licked Her lips slightly. Dvan saw that Her breathing had grown more rapid. "Both able to kill a Dancer, and willing?"

  Dvan knew what she meant; during the rebellion, the bulk of those Shield who had faced Dancers in combat had been unable to perform their duty. "My lady, I believe so. If there is a more holy thing in existence, my lady, than a Dancer in the act of calling the Flame, I do not know of it. And perhaps lacking the religious instruction I received when young, I would have more difficulty distinguishing between Dancers serving the Flame, and those who have chosen otherwise. But I have that instruction; and I will not hesitate in my duty."

  "You are a rarity, then."

  "My lady, aye."

  "You may call me Saliya, Dvan."

  Dvan's cock, imprisoned within the stiff tunic of a Shield, stiffened instantly. "Saliya, I am honored."

  She stood on the other side of the Flame, let the long folds of cloth drop free of Her form, and stood, nude but for Her bracelets, facing him. "You may yet have the opportunity to kill a Dancer, Dvan."

  She had not indicated that he move; Dvan sat very still, cock rigid as a bar of steel. "Saliya, how so?"

  "When we reach our destination, we will discuss this again. The Dancer Sedon would have made a martyr of terrifying potency, and we dared not give his memory that power. But what could not be done in the view of the World, may yet transpire in the shadows of their exile." She paused, whispered, "Dvan?"

  "Saliya?"

  Her quiet brown eyes, in impact so like Sedon's, bored into his. "Can you continue to speak to him?"

  "Saliya, I am strong enough."

  "Be wary, Dvan."

  "Saliya, as you will."

  Saliya nodded, and Her breasts swayed slightly, nipples erect, as She held Her hands toward Dvan. "How do you wish me?"

  "Behind."

  Without any change of expression, She reached behind Herself; Dvan heard a slight click as the bracelets at Her wrists locked together, and Ea'Tbad'Ijal'Saliya said softly, "Come to me."

  Dvan stood, shed his tunic, and went to Her, and used Her roughly until it was time for him to return to duty.

  * * *

  30.

  Saturday night, the thirteenth of June. Robert was in bed; in this at least Denice had observed that he was no different than any other man. He required some six hours of sleep, and functioned poorly when he did not get it.

  But Dvan surprised her; recovering as she was, she slept more than usual, about four hours a night. But Dvan was awake when she went to sleep, awake when she rose, waiting for her. She supposed the man slept, but had not seen it, nor even any sign of weariness as he told his story through the long days and nights that followed. Some of it stirred echoes of memory in her, and some of it did not; all of it was fascinating.

  And occasionally disturbing.

  Denice made no effort to hide how it disturbed her. "Is this--you, and her? Because if this is how all of you behaved, then you come from a sick culture."

  Dvan answered her in a voice with a noticeable Irish accent, significantly different from the voice in which he had told the bulk of his tale. "Ach, well. It was all of us; it was the society we lived in. I suspect you're right, you know, perhaps it was not as healthy as it might have been; but it was more successful than your own culture. Remember, it had survived ten thousand years, the period following the Splinter Wars, without substantial change. Partially that was the nature of us; we were a more stable people than you, genetically so, but some of it, at least, was due to the structure of the culture. It met the needs, physical, and spiritual, and sexual, of all its people. I know of no culture in Earth's history that could say the same."

  "Did it?" Denice shivered visibly. "Dvan, a culture that has not changed in ten thousand years does not strike me as stable. It strikes me as dead."

  "It may be," Dvan admitted. "In every society of your people with which I am familiar, where religious authority predominates, sin and guilt are the levers of power. Take from th
e people what is natural for the human organism; tell them that their own desires are the source of their pain; punish them, to their deaths, when they fulfill those needs regardless. When this is done correctly, instilled in a child at a young enough age, its hold is virtually unbreakable. My lady, my people were masters of such schooling."

  Denice said wearily, "Please don't call me that."

  The huge man said softly, "Forgive me if it offends you. But even in the greatest lies there can be a core of truth. If the society we built around the Flame was damaged, and perhaps it was, the Flame itself is a truth, and a great one. I have seen it and felt its warmth upon my face and been uplifted in its presence; if there is anything holy in the universe, the Dance of the Flame is it." Dvan was silent a beat, the fathomless black eyes steady on her. "And if you Dance the Flame, my lady, I will serve you, in whatever fashion the universe allows me, for I have Dedicated my life to do so."

  * * *

  31.

  Dvan hated the light the most.

  Harsh and incandescent, it gave things colors the likes of which Dvan had never imagined. Blues and reds, umber and brown and orange were all similar, though they were hideously garish by comparison with the same hues at home. White seemed to Dvan to have taken on a hideous tint of blueness.

  But some colors he had literally never seen before.

  There was the color they had named yellow, for instance, the color of this planet's star. It was the color that was made when wood burned; some thought it similar to an aspect of the living Flame. Other colors, though-- green, for example, the color of most of the plants here, that was like yellow in the way orange was like red--such colors simply had no analogue to anything Dvan had ever seen before.

  The light made garish mockeries of familiar things. The brooch that Tamtai had given him as a parting gift, the traditional emerald Shield, was under this light not brown but green. Many of the items that appeared to be of one color--brown--aboard ship turned out, under the light of this star, to be green; others turned a shade similar to blue, but with a vibrancy no blue had ever had before.

 

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