"I'm only sister, or Luet, please."
"Do you want me to see if he's still there, sister?"
"No, thank you," said Luet. "It would be improper for him still to be there, and so I'll go ask Dolya where he went." She headed off to the stairs in the teachers' wing of the house.
Luet was not surprised that Mebbekew had already managed to attach himself to a woman, even in this house where women were taught to see through shallow men. However, it did surprise her that Dolya was giving the boy the time of day. She had been worked over by champion flatterers and sycophants in her theatre days, and shouldn't have noticed Mebbekew except to laugh discreetly at him.
But then, Luet was quite aware that she saw through flatterers more easily than most women, since the flatterers never actually tried to work their seductive magic on her. Waterseers had a reputation for seeing through lies-though, truth to tell, Luet could only see what the Oversold showed her, and the Oversold was not noted for helping a daughter with her love life. As if I had a love life, thought Luet. As if I needed one. The Over-soul has marked my path for me. And where my path touches others' lives, I will trust the Oversold to tell them her will. My husband will discover me as his wife when he chooses to. And I will be content.
Content... she almost laughed at herself. All my dreams are tied up in the boy, we've been to the edge of death together, and still he pines for Eiadh. Are men's lives nothing but the secretions of overactive glands? Can't they analyze and understand the world about them, as women can? Can't Nafai see that Eiadh's love will be as permanent as rain, ready to evaporate as soon as the storm passes? Edhya needs a man like Elemak, who won't tolerate her straying heart. Where Nafai would be heartbroken at her disloyalty, Elemak would be brutally angry, and Eiadh, the poor foolish creature, would fall in love with him all over again.
Not that Luet saw all this herself, of course. It was Hushidh who saw all the connections, all the threads binding people together; it was Hushidh who explained to her that Nafai seemed not to notice Luet because he was so enamored of Eiadh. It was Hushidh who also understood the bond between Elemak and Eiadh, and why they were so right for each other.
And now Mebbekew and Dol. Well, it was another piece of the puzzle, wasn't it? When Luet had seen her vision of women in the woods behind Rasa's house, that night when she returned from warning Wetchik of the threat against his life, it had made no sense to her. Now, though, she knew why she had seen Dolya. She would be with Mebbekew, as Eiadh with Elemak. Shedemei would also be coming out to the desert, or at least would be involved with their journey, gathering seeds and embryos. And Hushidh also would come. And Aunt Rasa. Luet's vision had been of the women called out into the desert.
Poor Dolya. If she had known that taking Mebbekew into her room would take her on a path leading out of Basilica, she would have kicked him and bit him and hit him, if need be, to get him out of her room! As it was, though, Luet fully expected to find them together.
She knocked on Dol's door. As she expected, there was the sound of a flurry of movement inside. And a soft thump.
"Who is it?" asked Dol.
"Luet."
"I'm not conveniently situated at the moment."
"I have no doubt if it," said Luet, "but Lady Rasa sent me with some urgency. May I come in?"
"Yes, of course."
Luet opened the door to find Dolya lying in bed, her sheets up over her shoulders. There was no sign of Mebbekew, of course, but the bed had been well-rumpled, the bath was full of grey water, and a bunch of grapes had been left on the floor-not the way Dolya usually arranged things before taking a midday nap.
"What does Aunt Rasa want of me?" asked Dol.
"Nothing of you, Dol," said Luet. "She wants all her children and Wetchik's children to join her at once."
"Then why aren't you knocking at Sevet's or Kokor's door? They aren't here."
"Mebbekew knows why I'm here," said Luet. Remembering the thump she heard, and the brief amount of time before she opened the door, she reached a conclusion about his present whereabouts. "So as soon as I close the door, he can get up off the floor beside your bed, put some kind of clothing on, and come to Lady Rasa's room."
Dol looked stricken. "Forgive me for trying to deceive you, Waterseer," she whispered.
Sometimes it made Luet want to scream, the way everyone assumed that when she showed any spark of wit it must be a revelation from the Oversoul-as if Luet would be incapable of discerning the obvious on her own. And yet it was also useful, Luet had to admit. Useful in that people tended to tell her the truth more readily, because they believed she would catch them in their lies. But the price of this truthfulness was that they did not like her company, and avoided her. Only friends shared such intimacies, and only freely. Forced, or so they thought, to share their secrets with Luet, they withheld their friendship, and Luet was not part of the lives of most of the women around her. They held her in such awe; it made her feel unworthy and filled her with rage, both at once.
It was that anger that led Luet to torment Mebbekew by forcing him to speak. "Did you hear me, Mebbekew?"
A long wait. Then: "Yes."
"I'll tell Lady Rasa," said Luet, "that her message was received."
She started to back out the door and draw it closed behind her, when Dol called out to her. "Wait... Luet."
"Yes?"
"His clothes . .. they were being washed .. ."
"I'll send them up."
"Do you think they'll be dry by now?"
"Dry enough," said Luet. "Don't you think so, Mebbekew?"
Mebbekew sat upright, so his head appeared on the other side of the bed. "Yes," he said glumly.
"Damp clothes will cool you off," said Luet. "It's such a hot day, at least in this room." It was a fine joke, she thought, but nobody laughed.
Shedemei strode vigorously along the path to Wetchik's coldhouse, which was nestled in a narrow valley and shaded by tall trees just outside the place where the city wall curved around the Old Orchestra. It was the last and, she feared, the hardest part of her task of assembling the flora and fauna for the mad project of a voyage through space, back to the legendary lost planet Earth. I am going to all this trouble because I had a dream, and took it for interpretation to a dreamer. A journey on camels, and they think it will lead them to Earth.
Yet the dream was still alive within her. The life she carried with her on the cloud.
So she came to the door of Wetchik's coldhouse, not certain whether she really hoped to find one of his servants acting as caretaker.
No one answered when she clapped her hands. But the machines that kept the house cold inside might well mask her loudest clapping. So she went to the door and tried it. Locked.
Of course it was. Wetchik had gone into the desert weeks ago, hadn't he? And Rashgallivak, his steward and, supposedly, the new Wetchik, had been in hiding somewhere ever since. Who would keep the place running, with both of them gone?
Except that the machines here were running, weren't they? Which meant somebody was still caring for the place. Unless they carelessly left them on, and the plants untended inside.
That was quite possible, of course. The cold air would keep the specialized plants thriving for many days, and the coldhouse, drawing its power from the solar scoops on the poles rising high above the house, could run indefinitely without even drawing on the city's power supply.
And yet Shedemei knew that someone was still taking care of this place, though she could not have said how she knew it. And furthermore, she knew that the caretaker was inside the coldhouse right now, and knew she was there, and wanted her to go away. Whoever was in here was hiding.
And who was it who needed to hide?
"Rashgallivak," called Shedemei. "I'm only Shedemei. You know me, and I'm alone, and I will tell no one you are here, but I must talk to you." She waited, no response. "It's nothing about the city, or the things going on in there," she called out loudly. "I simply need to buy a couple of pieces of equ
ipment from you."
She could hear the door unbolting from the inside. Then it swung open on its heavy hinges. Rashgallivak stood there, looking forlorn and wasted. He held no weapon,
"If you've come to betray me, then I welcome it as a relief."
Shedemei declined to point out that betrayal would only be pure justice, after the way Rashgallivak had betrayed the Wetchik's house, allying himself with Gaballufix in order to steal his master's place. She had business to do here; she was not a justicer.
"I care nothing for politics," she said, "and I care nothing for you. I simply need to buy a dozen drycases. The portable ones, used for caravans."
He shook his head. "Wetchik had me sell them all."
Shedemei closed her eyes for a weary moment. He was forcing her to say things she had not wanted to throw in his face. "Oh, Rashgallivak, please don't expect m,e to believe that you actually sold them, knowing that you intended to take control of the house of Wetchik and would need to continue in the business."
Rashgallivak flushed-in shame, Shedemei hoped. "Nevertheless, I sold them, as I was told to do."
"Then who bought them?" asked Shedemei. "It's the drycases I want, not you."
Rashgallivak didn't answer.
"Ah," said Shedemei. "You bought them,"
After a moment's pause, he said, "What do you need them for?"
"You're asking me to account for myself?" asked Shedemei.
"I ask, because I know you have plenty of drycases at your laboratory. The only conceivable use of the portable ones is for a caravan, and that's a business you know nothing about."
"Then no doubt I will be killed or robbed. But that's no concern of yours. And perhaps I won't be killed or robbed."
"In which case," said Rashgallivak, "you would be selling your plants in far-off countries, in direct competition with me. So why should I sell my competitor the portable drycases she needs?"
Shedemei laughed in his face. "What, do you think that there is any business as usual in this place? I'm not going on a trading journey, you poor foolish man. I'm removing my entire laboratory, and myself, to a place where I can safely pursue my research without being interrupted by armed madmen burning and looting the city."
Again he flushed. "When they were under my command, they never harmed anyone. I was no Gaballufix."
"No, Rash. You are no Gaballufix."
That could be taken two ways, but Rash apparently decided to take it as a confirmation of her belief in his fundamental decency. "You're not my enemy, are you, Shedya."
"I just want drycases."
He hesitated a moment more, then stepped back and beckoned her inside.
The entry of the coldhouse wasn't chilled like the inner rooms, and Rash had turned it into a pathetic sort of apartment for himself. A makeshift bed, a large tub that had once held plants, but which he no doubt used now for bathing and washing his clothes. Very primitive, but resourceful, too. Shedemei had to admire that in the man-he had not despaired, even when everything worked against him.
"I'm alone here," he said. "The Oversoul surely knows I need money more than I need drycases. And the city council has cut me off from all my funds. You can't even pay me, because I haven't an account anymore to receive the money."
"That shouldn't be a problem," said Shedemei. "As you might imagine, a lot of people are pulling their money out of the city accounts. I can pay you in gems-though the price of gold and precious stones has tripled since the recent disturbances."
"Do you think I imagine myself to be in a position to bargain?"
"Stack the drycases outside the door," said Shedemei. "I'll send men to load them and bring them to me inside the city. I'll give you fair payment separately. Tell me where."
"Come alone, afterward," said Rash. "And put them into my hand."
"Don't be absurd," said Shedemei. "I'll never come here again, and we'll never meet, either. Tell me where to leave the jewels for you."
"In the traveler room of Wetchik's house."
"Is it easy to find?"
"Easy enough."
"Then it will be there as soon as I have received the drycases."
"It hardly seems fair, that I must trust you completely, and you don't have to show any trust in me at all."
Shedemei could think of nothing to say that would not be cruel.
After a while he nodded. "All right," he said. "There are two houses on Wetchik's estate. Put the jewels in the traveler room of the smaller, older house. On top of one of the rafters. I'll find it."
"As soon as the drycases are at my laboratory," said Shedemei.
"Do you think I have some network of loyal men who will ambush you?" asked Rashgallivak, bitterly.
"No," said Shedemei. "But knowing you will soon have the money, there'd be nothing to stop you from hiring them now."
"So you'll decide when to pay me, and how much, and I get no voice in the matter."
"Rash," said Shedemei, "I will treat you far more fairly than you treated Wetchik and his sons."
"I'll have a dozen drycases outside within a half hour."
Shedemei got up and left. She heard him close the door behind her, and imagined him timidly drawing the bolts closed, fearful that someone might discover that the man who had, for a day, ruled the petty empires of Gaballufix and Wetchik both, now cowered inside these heavy shaded walls.
Shedya passed through Music Gate, where the Gorayni guards checked her identity with dispatch and let her through. It still bothered her to see that uniform in the gates of Basilica, but like everyone else she was growing accustomed to the soldiers' perfect discipline, and the new orderliness that had come to the chaotic entrances of the city. Everyone waited patiently in line now.
And something else. There were now more people waiting to get into the city than waiting to get out. Confidence was returning. Confidence in the strength of the Gorayni. Who would have imagined how quickly people would come to trust the Wethead enemy?
After walking the long passage along the city wall to Market Gate, Shedemei found the muleteer she had hired. "Go ahead," Shedemei said. "There should be a dozen of them." The muleteer bowed her head and set off at a jog. No doubt that show of speed would stop the moment Shedemei could no longer see her, but Shedemei nevertheless appreciated the attempt at pretending to be fast. It showed that the muleteer knew what speedhw, and thought it worthwhile to give the illusion of it.
Then she found a messenger boy in the queue waiting just inside the Market Gate. She scribbled a note on one of the papers that were kept there at the messenger station. On the back of the note she wrote directions to Wetchik's house, and instructions about where to leave the note. Then she keyed in a payment on the station computer. When the boy saw the bonus she was giving him for quick delivery, he grinned, snatched the note, and took off like an arrow.
Rashgallivak would be angry, of course, to find a draft against one of the Market Gate jewelers, instead of the jewels themselves. But Shedemei had no intention of either carrying or sending an enormous sum of completely liquid funds to some lonely abandoned place. It was Rash who needed the money-let him take the risk. At least she had drawn the draft on one of the jewelers who kept a table outside Market Gate, so he wouldn't have to pass any guards to get his payment.
Rasa looked at her son and daughters, and Wetchik's two boys by other wives. Not the world's finest group of human beings, she thought. I'd be a bit more contemptuous of Volemak's failure with his two older boys, if I didn't have my two prize daughters to remind me of my own lack of brilliance as a parent. And, to be fair, all these young people have their gifts and talents. But only Nafai and Issib, the two children Volya and I had together, have shown themselves to have integrity, decency, and love of goodness.
"Why didn't you bring Issib?"
Elemak sighed. Poor boy, thought Rasa. Is the old lady making you explain again? "We didn't want to worry about his chair or his floats on this trip," he said.
"It's just as well we don't have
him locked up in here with us," said Nafai.
"I don't think the general will keep us under arrest for long," said Rasa. "Once I'm thoroughly discredited, there'd be no reason to do something as clearly repressive as this. He's trying to create an image of himself as a liberator and protector, and having his soldiers in the streets here isn't helpful."
"And then we leave?" asked Nafai.
"No, we put down roots here," said Mebbekew. "Of course we leave."
"I want to go home," said Kokor. "Even if Obring is a wretched miserable excuse for a husband, I miss him."
Sevet said nothing.
Rasa looked at Elemak, who had a half-smile on his face. "And you, Elemak, are you also eager to leave my house?"
"I'm grateful for your hospitality," he said. "And we'll always remember your home as the last civilized house we lived in for many years."
"Speak for yourself, Elya," said Mebbekew.
"What is he talking about?" said Kokor. "I have a civilized house waiting for me right now."
Sevet gave a strangled laugh.
"I wouldn't boast about how civilized my house is, if I were you," said Rasa. "I see, too, that Elemak is the only one who understands your true situation here."
"I understand it," said Nafai.
Of course Elemak glared at Nafai under hooded eyes. Nafai, you foolish boy, thought Rasa. Must you always say the thing that will most provoke your brothers? Did you think I had forgotten that you have heard the voice of the Oversold, that you understand far more than your brothers or sisters do? Couldn't you trust me to remember your worthiness, and so hold silence?
No, he couldn't. Nafai was young, too young to see the consequences of his actions, too young to contain his feelings.
"Nevertheless, it is Elemak who will explain it to us all."
"We can't stay in the city," said Elemak. "The moment the soldiers leave their watch, we have to escape, and quickly."
"Why?" asked Mebbekew. "It's Lady Rasa who's in trouble, not us."
The Call of Earth Page 18