Acorna’s People

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Hmmm—are they being recalcitrant about using their other powers?”

  “Oh, no siree. We’ve got that under control. Put one or two of them in a gas chamber and the air is sweet as springtime when you let them out. Poison one of them with drain cleaner and it’s crystal clear water before you know it. That’s well documented. You can feel free to dump toxic waste, pollute anything you want, and what we have here is a cure-all. Of course, I’m not sure how well they’ll perform outside a controlled environment.”

  “It’s not like you to mince words, General.” Ganoosh smiled. “You mean outside of captivity. Well, there are some other little tests I want you to run. I have had my ward divert her course, but soon she will be arriving with a very important guest, I hope, and possibly some information regarding the location of the central nesting place of our fine horned friends. She will also have with her some horns which have been removed from their original owners. I would like you to do some testing to determine the qualitative difference in the performance of the horn on a live animal, as opposed to one that’s detached. If it is not great, well, then—”

  “I understand perfectly, Count Edacki. I wish also to report, by the way, that I have myself devised an interesting and entertaining way of testing the horns’ healing powers.”

  “How is that?” Ganoosh asked.

  “By reviving the idea of the Roman amphitheater and gladiator contests. You’ll recall my associate, Nadhari Kando?” the general asked.

  “You haven’t made her privy to our little secret, have you? The woman was in league with that bleeding-heart Delszaki Li,” the count said with some disgust.

  “We seem to have solved the problem of Nadhari’s tender heart with liberal infusions of drugs that produce hostility and aggression. They seem to overcome her natural inhibitions to violence, which were never all that strong anyway.” Ikwaskwan’s smile was feral.

  “I recall that from another conversation we had,” Ganoosh said.

  “We lucked upon a ship full of children, enemies of your late associate, the Piper, I might add. They had hoped, I understand, to enlist Nadhari to teach them the art of war. So I am accommodating them. Have a peek,” he said.

  The general switched the view on the comscreen so that Ganoosh saw an amphitheater constructed by building bleachers up the sides of a biosphere bubble. The soldiers in the bleachers were protected from the combatants by walls of reinforced plascrete. In the center of the ring, tethered by the neck and foot to a pillar, was Nadhari Kando, the lithe and dangerous-looking female Ganoosh had seen previously in Ikwaskwan’s company. She was armed with daggers and whips. And a tall, rather lovely teenaged girl, dressed in what was apparently Ikwaskwan’s scanty idealized version of a Roman toga, was forced into her path by soldiers carrying laser prods. The girl had only a dagger and a net.

  An anguished cry rose from somewhere in the background. “’Ziana! No!”

  “Is that her name?” Ganoosh asked.

  “Yes, sir. She is Adreziana Starborne, the captain of the Starfarer children I spoke of. How touching. She is trying to talk to Nadhari through the drugs, you see? But Nadhari is no more likely to listen to her than the lions once did the Christians.”

  “And the male voice I heard just now crying her name in such a tender fashion?”

  “That would be Pal Kendoro, Count Edacki. Like Nadhari herself, a former lackey of Delszaki Li. A friend of Nadhari’s, actually. The old Nadhari, that is, not this new, improved model.”

  “It is unfair and unchivalrous of you to send that sweet child out there to face the madwoman on her own, General. May I suggest a refinement?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.”

  “Bind the lovers together. Two love birds with one stoned warrior woman.” He began to giggle. “Oh, that tickles my fancy! Yes it does! I shall have to come out there immediately to view it in person. Save that spectacle for me, will you?”

  “No need, Count. No matter how badly Nadhari hurts them or, if they are lucky, one of them hurts her, the Linyaari will certainly cooperate to heal such innocent hides. We can recycle both Nadhari and the children indefinitely, if the healing powers work as well as we’ve been led to believe.”

  “Splendid, General, splendid! How I have missed these little entertainments—the sort the Didis used to dream up to interest me back in the old days before the unicorn girl showed up. How very fitting that her own species should make such pleasures feasible and cost effective again.”

  Nineteen

  Maati wanted to know where her brother was and why he had not come out with the others. “He was hurt, Maati,” Liriili told her when the child refused to leave. “The aliens we fled when your parents came here hurt him very badly. He does not want you to see him until we can heal him.”

  All of the adults were now trying to project calm and patience like crazy but Maati had learned a thing or two as a government page.

  “You didn’t want him to come!” she said. “You were scared of him. But he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s the only family I have and I’m the only family he has. I want to see him.”

  Acorna said, “You will, Maati. You will. But he is hurt by the way people look at him and he doesn’t want to be pitied. He wants you to look up to him, not feel sorry for him. So we have to go get the physicians now and bring them right back here to heal him.”

  “I want to be there,” Maati said firmly. “We are family and I want to help him. If I was hurt and he knew it, I bet he would be there. My parents would have been, wouldn’t they, Grandam?”

  “Yes, Maati. And I see no reason why you shouldn’t come, too.”

  Thariinye sent the adults in the group a somewhat distorted mental picture, in Acorna’s opinion, of Aari and Becker. Grandam gasped and Acorna, who had been trying hard not to project, snapped at him.

  (Well, Grandam said she didn’t see why,) Thariinye declared in his own defense.

  The other two males had scurried off immediately, looking distinctly unwell.

  “Thariinye,” Liriili said. “Please ask the communications duty officer to contact the physicians’ college and have Baaksi Bidiila and Baaksi M’kaarin come here at once with their staff and any necessary equipment.”

  “Yes, Viizaar Liriili,” Thariinye said, relieved to be away from there for even a moment. “At once.”

  When he had gone, Liriili confronted Acorna and Grandam. “It is not helpful that you two judge him or me or the others for reacting in this way to one who has been so badly maimed,” she said. “The Khleevi sent the vids of our people under torture to us in order to deliberately terrorize us. As you can see, it works. Our people are not cowards, but we are peaceful. We’re healers. We would never do anything so dreadful to other living creatures. It is horrifying to us in the extreme. To see what can be done to us while we still live and breathe and walk—well, that would be far too upsetting for most of our people to be able to continue functioning. Such a sight would upset the balance and harmony we have achieved since coming here. Besides, it is in the best interests of Aari himself that he be healed before he rejoins us.”

  “How bad is it?” Maati wanted to know. “I’m his sister. You shouldn’t all try to keep this from me.”

  Before Liriili could tell her what she’d seen in Thariinye’s image, Acorna described Aari’s wounds herself, focusing on the pain in his eyes. Maati started to cry, big grieving tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nooo! Why did they do such a thing? Poor Aari! I want to help him.”

  Grandam patted her shoulder. “You shall, child, you shall. Liriili, I feel it would be a good idea if Acorna, Maati, and I went to the communications shed and asked to be allowed to speak with Aari.”

  “I really discourage any further communication with those aliens until we can bring Aari back among us,” Liriili said.

  “Child, I do understand your objections and your responsibility to the rest of our people, but in this case, our responsibility to Maati must come first—if she feels she can handle this, th
en we must not stand in her way. Aari is her family, almost all the family she has left. Hasn’t she lost enough? Hasn’t her brother? We left him behind once for the sake of us all; isn’t it his turn to come first, now that he’s back among us?”

  “I will bow to your wisdom, Grandam. But I still feel that the sight of Aari would be unnecessarily frightening to the public. The images projected by Iiryn and Yiirl alone will be giving many of our people nightmares.”

  “In that case, Viizaar,” Grandam said, “perhaps if you feel so strongly about that, it must be your immediate priority to return to the city and give our people the correct and actually—and we seem to have overlooked this—quite joyous news that one we all believed was lost has not only returned, but is the first person to have survived capture and torture by the Khleevi; that he is in the process of having his wounds healed, and should soon be among his friends and loved ones once more. Meanwhile, since according to Thariinye, Acorna is the only one of us capable of reasoning with the belligerent Captain Becker, she, Maati as next of kin, and I as a friend and elder from the boy’s youth, should remain to help the physicians with their work and provide moral support.” Grandam’s words were clearly an order to the flustered viizaar.

  “As you wish, Grandam.” Liriili withdrew and headed back to the city. The rest of them walked to the communications shed.

  The communications officer gladly ceded his seat to them and watched as Acorna hailed the Condor.

  “Well, Lady Acorna, fancy seeing you there. What’s on your mind, hon?” The honest face of Jonas Becker reflected pleasure at the sight of her in his viewscreen.

  “Captain Becker, Grandam Naadiina, whom you heard Aari say he knew and was fond of, is here, and she would like to speak to him. Aari’s younger sister, Maati, who is Grandam’s ward, is here as well. Maati has been informed of the nature of Aari’s wounds but she wants very much to speak to him and—well, I think it would be best if she could speak for herself.”

  “Right. If you think it’s best, then I’ll try to get him in here. But those jerks who were here with you are not welcome aboard this vessel again. I hope everybody understands that.”

  Acorna smiled. “I believe you made yourself abundantly clear on that issue, Captain.” She looked around. “Thariinye doesn’t seem to be here now, but Liriili asked him to send for the physicians. They should be arriving soon. We three would like to return to your ship with them, with your permission.”

  “Granted, with pleasure,” he said. “Wait a minute and I’ll see if Aari will come out to talk to his sister.”

  “I’m not entirely sure this contact is authorized,” the communications officer said.

  “No?” Grandam said. “Well, it is. Liriili appointed Khornya and me as her liaisons in this affair. Khornya is already showing great talent as an alien ambassador, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Grandam,” the officer said meekly.

  “That’s a good lad,” Grandam said with an indulgent smile.

  A moment later Becker appeared back on screen. Behind him loomed a tall figure with a cat wound around his neck. Maati had her jaw thrust forward and set. As Aari’s ruined face appeared on the screen, she blinked twice but that was all. Aari also blinked, so perhaps he didn’t see her first instinctive reaction. Acorna thought he was trying not to weep again.

  “Welcome home, elder brother,” the little girl said, sounding less like a little girl than Acorna had ever heard her. “I am Maati, born here on narhii-Vhiliinyar to our parents before they returned to search for you and our brother. They—they never found you?” She had tried, Acorna knew, not to make it a question but could not quite keep the note of hope from her voice.

  “To my sorrow, no. It is also my great sorrow to tell you that our brother has passed this life, but it gives me more joy than I have known in all of these ghaanye to see you and to hear your voice, younger sister. I am Aari, born many ghaanye and a world before you, but I am your kinsman and I love you already.”

  “And I you,” Maati said. “Aari, when the doctors come, tell your friend I will come, too. I’ll lay my horn upon you and keep you from any pain and speed your healing.”

  Tears did fall from Aari’s eyes as she spoke. “My gratitude, Maati,” he said, but his response was almost drowned out as both Acorna and Grandam said, “And I will do the same,” in response to Maati’s declaration.

  “My gratitude, Grandam Naadiina, and to Khornya, who has already—my gratitude.”

  “Okay,” Becker said. “But if you ladies are coming you’d better step on it. I see a bunch of people coming up the road right now. I’ll send down the robolift for you so you’ll be on board when they arrive.”

  “Thanks, Captain Becker,” Acorna said.

  “Thank you, lady. You, too, ladies.”

  The physicians were those most skilled in the healing arts, much more than the average Linyaari. Many of them, Grandam told Acorna, had studied off-planet, where there were more ills to be healed. Most Linyaari were never ill or hurt for more than a few moments, or at least not until they found the next Linyaari. In fact, being a physician on narhii-Vhiliinyar was largely an intellectual rather than a practical profession. The physicians didn’t gasp when they saw Aari, but they shook their heads, regarded him with clinical interest, tried a few applications of their own horns with little effect, and then turned to look with interest at the piles of bones in the holds beyond their patient.

  “So you say, Aari, that after you were injured you dragged yourself to the burial place and the power of the horns of our departed forebears healed you of your injuries—at least to a degree? As much as the lasting damage done to you by the Khleevi would allow?”

  “Yes.”

  The physicians looked uncomfortably at each other. “Unfortunately, given the special nature of the tortures inflicted by the Khleevi, the horns’ healing power only knit that which was broken—it did not straighten anything into proper position first. Khleevi take special pains when working with Linyaari to try and short-circuit the healing processes.”

  “I had suspected as much,” Aari said dryly, regarding his own misshapen arm.

  “But now that your arm is healed this way, there is little we can do. The tissue is not injured, as far as our abilities are concerned. As for your horn—well, a transplant might be possible when Maati is older, if she could spare a piece of her horn. But she and it are too immature to risk that at this time. And such a procedure has never been tried, you know. No one has—ever survived such an injury in the past.”

  “Oh, do try!” Maati cried. “I don’t care if it hurts. It can’t hurt anything like Aari has hurt. Please, can’t you do something for him?”

  One of the doctors, a female, Bidiila, knelt beside Maati and took her hand. “We wish we could, youngling,” she said, and Acorna could see she was close to tears herself. “But he has suffered great harm at the hands of our enemies. Some will see his wounds and blame him for receiving them, as irrational as that may be, but some will be as wise as you and know that he is living proof of Linyaari courage and fortitude. You must be very proud of him.”

  “I am,” Maati said, taking the doctor’s hand and trying to put it in Aari’s, “but he hurts so terribly—am I the only one who feels it? Can nobody help him?”

  Aari gathered her up and stroked her hair with his broken hand, shushing her. “I am used to it now, little sister. Please don’t weep for me. Did you not hear what they said? Later, perhaps, when they know more, they can do more.”

  “But there must be something they can do now,” the child insisted.

  “Well, actually, there is,” Becker said. “We could break the old injuries, one at a time, and you could reheal them. That should work.” He looked at the doctors and cocked an eyebrow. Acorna translated.

  “We do not do such things, Captain. Even in a therapeutic way, and to heal. Injuring any living creature is an act of violence and not our way.”

  When Acorna gave Becker the doctor’s repl
y, he shrugged and asked, “They don’t mind finishing the job if I do the dirty work though, do they?”

  Acorna translated. “They have no objection.”

  Acorna asked Becker, “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, first, I just want to make certain of something. The way Aari healed me and RK when we were hurt, you can do that for him? I mean, make it so he gets patched up completely almost at the same time he’s hurt so he doesn’t feel anything for more than say, a split second?”

  The others looked dubious, but Acorna, who had had considerable experience with the healing properties of her own horn, nodded. “Yes. Probably even more effectively than Aari healed you since he had to use the dead horns to accomplish the healing.”

  “Well then, all we have to do is rebreak the places that have set wrong and heal them again. I hate to put Aari through it, but it’s the only solution,” Becker said. “Your docs may have principles against it, but I don’t.”

  Bidiila said, “I personally have never encountered old fractures such as these. Few of us have. When one can heal almost any wound immediately, one seldom sees old wounds, and even then, usually they have received some sort of attention prior to ours that keeps them from being in such sad shape as Aari’s.”

  “I understand, doc. You people don’t want to do it because the way you see it, hurting people is the opposite of healing. Me, I don’t have any problem with breaking a few bones, especially in a good cause.” He touched Aari’s shoulder. “How about it, buddy?” he asked Aari. “You willing to let me bust you up a little so your medics can heal you right this time? I can’t do much about the horn, but I got me a crowbar that will do a good job with a few surgical strikes. They promise it’ll only hurt for a little while.”

  Aari only glanced at the doctors, who, except for Bidiila, had backed off slightly. “I can bear pain at the hand of a friend,” he said. “Part of the pain of the torture was knowing that my captors intended their cruelty and delighted in my pain. They even amplified it. I know that you will be sharing it and helping me bear it.”