Shadowplay sq-1

by Jo Clayton

  Shadith crouched by the front of the cage they'd put the prisoners in and watched the moonshadows crawl across the floor. Three days, then the Fire. She reached into her boot, touched the welt that hid the crystal knife and was tempted. Then she sighed and took her hand away. There was a solid rank of Na-priests sitting like stone teeth across the mouth of the Bubble and a score of others rolled in their blankets, sleeping on the floor. She wouldn't get two steps before she woke at least one. No chance. Not now. Gods, Lee, put your foot down and GET HERE!

  Chapter 23: Shadowplay

  Invocation-the first morning:

  The Gospah Ayawit's mellifluous voice dripped out over the pilgrims from speaker-towers twenty meters high scattered about the five-squared kilometers of the crater floor. Clad in cloth of gold with Kiskaid totem symbols wrought with colored gemstone beads and Kiskaid holy writ in gold and silver wire with diamond accents, the Gospah Ayawit shimmered and glittered like the sun himself from screens ten meters tall. "Mat Weh Kat ta ti…," chanted the Gospah, calling Oppalatin to witness their worship, calling the folk to listen, hear the bells of change ring out, hear the word of Oppalatin: Mat Weh Kat ta ti Oppalatin Ma! Illiloo Kiskaiwin Eh ishi shikahisheeaywin Keh kah Sak kehaaa din Kid Ma! Kid Ma! Kid Ma…

  The antique syllables went on and on, slithering and sliding past the ears of pilgrims mostly ignoring him-talking, laughing, doing clapsongs and slapdances, setting out their blankets and their jugs of wine and fruit drinks, their crisps and popcorn and pretzels and fried fowl and roasted kipsi fruits and the thousand other things they'd packed in for the occasion, tieing on their ribbons and testing the bells on their leggings, the wooden clackers on thumb and forefinger, their bone pipes and baby kitskews, their drums and rhythmbones. The sun was pleasantly warm with a few cloud puffs to turn the sky bluer than blue and just enough of a breeze to make the crowding comfortable. They looked up now and then to see the Gospah glitter, to see the Longhorn Pipers standing on their benches, the Palaka Dancers dancing on the Great Drums: Ni-tahwaikis in husks and seeds; Tahnokipo Waposh in tortoiseshell and polished stone with clackers on his legs and soundstones in his hands; Shapostim Mayah in feathers and ribbons with strips of bells along his legs and tinkly, tiny cymbals on his fingers.

  Shadith watched from the cage at the back of the Bubble. Kikun was stretched out on a lumpy pallet laid along the left side of the cage, recovering from the battering of the trek here; Rohant knelt by him, holding his hand. Miowee was huddled at the back of the cage, sunk into a black depression that Shadith had a hard time shutting out-especially since she was looking fire in the face, at the moment a more literal fire than the one that had been haunting her. Bonfires crackled energetically, one on each side of the stage at the front of the broken Bubble, near where the ramps went, down. These weren't the Sacrifice pyres-those were set up at the back of the Bubble, cameras focused in tight on them, carved posts and carved sticks saturated with aromatic oils. Now and then an errant breeze brought her the odor of those oils, nauseating her. Bumdeath-it scared her witless. As time passed and hope evaporated, she was more and more out of control… turning into a quivering mess.

  The sun went down and supper was served.

  Shadith couldn't eat.

  Kikun wouldn't eat, couldn't lift himself off the pallet.

  Rohant raged at them. Teethtips bared, he shook Shadith out of her lethargy, shoved bread and meat in her mouth and held his hand over her face until she swallowed. When he was satisfied she was aroused enough to keep the juices flowing, he tore small pieces of bread and cheese and fed them to Kikun. He wasn't interested in Miowee and left her in her gloom until Kayataki pulled at his sleeve, crying because she couldn't get any reaction from her mother. He slapped the streetsinger into fury, got her energized enough to eat on her own, then went back to feeding Kikun.

  The Shadowplay Goddance began in the early afternoon on the second day.

  The Palaka Dancers stamped on the Drums, shook their clackers and their bells. The Longhorns hooted, low grumbling sounds that entered the body not so much through the ears as the pit of the stomach.

  Rohant marched from the cage and climbed upon a broad and massive bench, the cats beside him, heiratic symbols out of history and dream; Sassa rode his arm, gold eyes glaring, head erect with fierce and deadly pride. The image of that ensemble was repeated over and over out across the crater, cold-eyed predators staring down on the pilgrims from hundreds of screens.

  On his feet more by will than intrinsic strength, Kikun danced onto the low flat drum at the front of the stage; he wore no bells or clackers, only a loincloth and the black and white paint. His image crossed and recrossed Rohant's.

  Grim beneath her whiteface paint, Shadith walked slowly from the cage. Miowee and Kayataki were already in place, chained to the floor with gilded paper links, loaded down with rustling chains until only their hands and arms were free, Kaya to play the finger cymbals, Miowee with her kitskew. Shadith sat upon the ivory banc and tuned the Paleka Kitskew until she was satisfied with the sound. Then she sang.

  Kikun danced.

  Rohant posed.

  The cats leaped down from the bench and danced with Kikun, writhing and winding about him, black flows moving in time with the song.

  A sigh passed across the throng of pilgrims, faces turned to the screens, she could feel them coming together as she'd felt them not together before…

  The Gospah stood in front of Rohant, on the floor of the Bubble, his head barely past the Ciocan's knees. The Mime Ni-tawaikis stood beside the lefthand fire, still as a graven image. The Mime Tahnokipo Waposh and the Mime Shapostim Mayah stood beside the righthand fire, still as graven images.

  Shadith brought the song to its end.

  Kikun froze.

  The Longhorn players puffed through their three meter pipes and the Palaka Dancers, swung into stamping circles; behind them the Kam priests chanted: Ma Ma Ma Ma llillo Kiskaiwin Ma Ma Ma…

  The pilgrim wave began to break apart.

  The Gospah blew on his little pipe; the shrill note broke through the, chant, brought it to an end. The Longhorns fell silent. Shadith sighed, moved into the second song of her program, Miowee and Kaya singing with her.

  About halfway through, the pilgrims took up the song, the sound was a low hum at first that rose and spread and filled the whole of the crater, even unto the sky… ..and Shadith felt her power on her, without the hallucinogens of Avosing, nothing but the intensity of the belief before and behind her. And Kikun squeezing down that force and funneling it into her. Even the Gospah was in the circuit which would have surprised her if she'd had mind enough left for wonder; he burned with fervor. Nothing he was doing now was cynical, he believed in his righteousness and in the thing they were evoking, believed it with a force of will and spirit that had nothing to do with that part of him that maneuvered so skillfully and ruthlessly for power and influence, the part of him that could watch unmoved as his Na-priests tortured a rebel. The pilgrims elbow to elbow across the crater were perhaps less complex, less divided against themselves, but their belief was as strong, each individual reinforcing the reaction of the individuals around him, each family group, clan group, accepting and reflecting the fervor of the groups before, behind and to the sides…

  …the feedback built and built until the air itself clanged like metal…

  …she began to SHAPE…

  …digging deep within herself…

  …laying hold on the power offered her…

  …crafting out of memory and instinct…

  …out of the people's belief…

  …she SHAPED the THREE and sent THEM dancing over the crowd…

  …made them sing with the voice of the throng…

  …made them strut and posture and gather to themselves every eye, every heart, every fragment of brain…

  …the priests in the Bubble left their places and streamed down the ramps at the two sides of the Stage, melding with the crowd, chanting and rapt, their ey
es fixed on the THREE…

  …the Palaka Dancers lifted their arms and danced round and round where they were, moaning and turned so deeply inward, they were beyond noticing anything around them…

  …the Longhorners blew in a trance, seeing nothing but the THREE, hearing nothing but the groan and thrum of their pipes…

  …the Na-priests were on their knees, sobbing, their arms stretched toward the THREE…

  Shadith looked over her shoulder, caught Rohant's eye, jerked her head at the front of the Bubble.

  Still singing, almost blind with the effort, her voice picked up and transmitted to the speakers by the lug-ikes clipped between her breasts, she got to her feet and began moving step by slow step toward the ramp at the right curving down from the Bubble Stage to the crater floor…

  Behind her Rohant launched Sassa into the air, then reached for the Gospah's neck, caressed his carotids until the man was out cold. He laid him on the bench and stepped down. Moving as quickly as he could-the air felt thick as chilled honey and his head was throbbing, his eyes tearing so badly he could barely see-Rohant crossed the few steps to Miowee's side; he tore away the paper chains and swept her up and• around so she could cling to his back, then he caught hold of Kaya's hand and led her after Shadith…

  The cats writhing about him, Kikun danced his shimmer-dance, putting aside the stamps and turns beaten into him by the priests. Shiver and shimmer he moved slowly after Shadith and Rohant, holding the feed steady, maintaining the flow from the pilgrim trance into Shadith so she could keep that trance going, keep the illusion there to pin the eyes of everyone and let them walk away…

  Using the hallucinated THREE to open a way for them… Nikamo-Oskinin twenty stories tall, bending to sweepher illusory, fingers through the pilgrims… Shadith struggled across the floor of the crater… exhausted, running on the dregs of her strength, emptying herself to keep the trance in place, the IMAGES whole and present… she won one meter, two, three, ten, twenty… the Firedeath at her back… pulling endurance out of a consuming terror, she drove herself on and on… playing the kitskew till her fingers bled… singing the same song over and over…

  WATCHER 13

  1

  Ginbiryol Seyirshi watched the Invocation begin, then switched his attention to the prisoners. All that chanting and hopping around, it was boring, the kind of thing one might expect from that woman the girl was going to meet, that xenoethnologist, boring, boring, boring. Most of it he would have to throw out, maybe keep a little for the color-and of course one could always sweeten the scenes by mixing in the pulsing terror from the girl. Ahhh, she was afraid, ah yesss, she was sick with horror. He touched the test-sensors on the pathecorder and smiled as he felt a lump of horror/terror/fury grow inside him; he savored the sour flavor of her nausea. Yes. Fire and death. Ahhh, that would be splendid. Firedeath. He ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the burning in anticipation, smelling the meat…

  2

  The second day started out more interesting and improved as it progressed, especially after the girl began singing. He listened to that soaring voice, contemplated the shining youth of the singer, so sweeet, so tennnderand on the verge of ceasing to exist. Exquisite pathos. He could see his clients weeping at the sadness of her fate, reveling in every nuance of her pain. They were a sentimental lot. Which was just as well-if they were not they would not pay his prices.

  In the early afternoon when the resonance was born between the singer and the pilgrims and began to build and build, he was elated; the charge coming through the EYEs was so strong it was close to blowing the circuits of the pathecorder. His connoisseurs of emotion would be ecstatic.

  When he saw the giant Holos form, he laughed aloud and murmured encouragement, tender nothings, loving nonsense. "So good, so good, a phenomenal finale, blessed be the Lady for sending you to me…"

  3

  A moment later he was scowling as Shadith began slogging slowly and painfully down the ramp, then across the crater floor, forcing her way through the pilgrims, heading for the broken section of the crater wall where the Road came in, the Cicipi Gate. Kikun, Rohant, and his beasts were following her. "That, that…" He looked around as if the answer to handling her was pinned on the wall somewhere. He was alone, Ajeri was in the gym, and Puk was still tucked away in the tranx web. He rubbed his hands together, glared up at the Pet whose chatter was beginning to irritate him. He didn't need them. He knew the kephalos better than anyone, it just took time…

  Stroking his thumbnail over his chin and down along his throat, he contemplated Cell 1. She was halfway across the crater already, the others plowing along behind her, the Holos of the local demigods dancing a stately pavane-above them, the pilgrims swaying and ululating, lost in a trance so deep they were blind to everything but the towering images moving over their heads. He examined the readouts and frowned. What was pouring off the locals was beginning to move beyond the capacity of the pathecorder circuits, even of the kephalos itself. Triggered, he thought, by the Three, especially the girl and that odd little lizardman. Despite the strain of his instruments, it was good. It was very good. Better than anything he'd expected to capture. Fascinating, the synergy developed by those Three.

  He unfolded Cell 2, the one assigned to Rohant, emptied it out and sent the POV dancing from EYE to EYE, the scene careening here and there, front and back, side to side, as he tried to decide what to do; he did not want to break the trance and lose the dancing demigods, they were going to make this Edition the best he had ever created… still, he did not need much more of that Shadowplay, that giant ghostdance. Yes, he thought, yes. More pathos. Let her allt-most reach the Gate, then drag her back. Yes.

  "Ajeri tiszteh, come to the Bridge immediately. I need you."

  4

  Ajeri Kilavez strode to her chair, a vortex of nervous energy in precarious control. Once she was settled, she glanced at Cell 1 and her mouth tightened until her lips disappeared. She swung to face Ginbiryol. "Well?"

  "Let them get to the Gate, then pull them back. From what I have seen, all you will have to do is disrupt that trance."

  "That's all?" Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  He ignored that, though he added it to the balance against retaining her once this project was completed. "You will find it easy enough, simply disrupt what comes from those speakers. It is her singing that controls the effect she is producing."

  "Hmm." Ajeri swung back, frowned at the Cell. "Given it works, that should be easy enough. All right. What about the Banger?"

  "It is in place. All it needs is the touch of my finger." He held up the bony digit, the flesh finger on his realhand. "That is not long off, Ajeri tiszteh."

  "Good." After a long dark stare at the Cell, she bent over her sensor board and started working.

  5

  The music and the voice came from everywhere, sound picked up from a thousand speakers, Shadith singing with herself,, smooth as water flowing, effortless as breathing or so it seemed until the POV swooped closer to her, showed her face, gaunt with strain, sweat rolling into her eyes, dripping from her nose and chin…

  Ajeri leaned forward, smiling; tongue moving along her lips, eyes glowing with anticipation, she reached slowly down and touched a sensor…

  CELL 1

  The song collapsed into a screech… the kind of noise that made the teeth ache and put twitching knots in the back muscles…

  Shadith dropped the kitskew and fell to her knees, her arms pressed over her ears, her eyes squeezed shut…

  Kikun fell flat, unconscious, his eyes rolling back, his mouth sagging open.

  The cats went crazy, clawing at their ears, rolling on the ground during the first seconds of that assault, then they howled and attacked whomever they could reach, grabbing with their forelegs, disemboweling with their powerful hinddaws, one stroke and twist away, on their feet again, jaws closing on necks, a shake and leap ahead to the next..

  Rohant brushed Kayataki away, tossed Miowee off him (she landed o
n several surviving pilgrims, rolled to the ground bruised but intact and screaming for her daughter) and raced after his beasts.

  Before he got near them, Na-priests came from the crowd like maggots from meat and shot the cats into hamburger.

  Rohant the Ciocan roared his fighting challenge, and ran at the nearest shooters, his lips drawn back from his tearing teeth, his eyes red with fury,

  As he ran past, a priest snapped erect, hammered him to the ground with a club like a young tree.

  The sound cut off.

  Shadith struggled to her feet, looked wildly around, started running, head down, driving as hard as she could for the Gate.

  A Na-priest came after her, whipped his stranglecord about her neck, jerked her back against his body, tightened the ligature… she started to lift her hands then there wasn't anything left…

  6

  A chime sounded repeatedly, a pleasant bonging sound. with an unpleasant message; quiverwort #3 was announcing the arrival of a starship-over a week before he was expecting it. Ginbiryol swore, swung round and tapped off the alarm. It might be coincidence, a wandering trader, but he didn't think so. He set the kephalos searching for the intruder and turned to the Pilot. "Wake up the Paems and get ready to go, fast, Ajeri tiszt. Thirty minutes, no more, then we run for the Limit."

  "Trouble?"

  "It could be. We will continue to record as long as possible. When the time comes to leave…" He pointed to the traces of a ship racing recklessly insystem. "Head out ninety degrees that line, as fast as you can wind her up." He looked at the track of the incoming ship for a minute. "Yes, I'm sure of it, that has to be a Vryhh ship. If we are not obtrusive about it, I believe the Hunter will ignore our departure in favor of the world itself." He smiled tightly, slanted his eyes at Ajeri. "With a little Luck, she will still be there when the Banger lets loose."