The Skies of Mahdis

by Rayne Forrest

  She knew she had to look better than the last time he'd seen her. She was still pale, and very thin, but if Vanteen kept feeding her ghuitz she'd gain the weight back rapidly.

  She watched as Q'winn sniffed and glanced towards the tub. Doubtless he'd caught the scent of the soap with which she'd bathed. The female in her wanted to smile.

  "Are you feel better?” he asked in her language.

  "Much better,” she replied in his. He looked surprised, then pleased.

  "I am sorry,” he said solemnly. “I did not learn fast to stop your sickness.” He continued to speak in Terran, for her.

  "Aren't you going to yell at me for leaving the keep?” She spoke in Dannari for him.

  "When well. Then beat you.” He said and immediately looked sorry when she flinched. “Not do, Trista. Is tease, like for diso-beediant child,” he said. “Please. I may sit?"

  "Yes. Sit down.” Trista thought it was odd he was asking permission to sit down in his own home. She jumped in surprise when he sat on the edge of the couch.

  "What drink?” he asked ignoring her look.

  "Tea,” she said, raising her cup and sipping. Their eyes locked over the rim of the cup.

  "Ah. Medicine?"

  "No. Just ... tea."

  They grinned at each other, but Q'winn's grin quickly faded into a serious look. He reached out and passed his knuckles over her cheek in the barest whisper of a caress.

  "Trista, why you run away?"

  "I want to go home, Q'winn."

  "Home not on Dannar. You not stupid. Why you leave?"

  "I wanted to just go for a walk. Vanteen said I was free to go outside as long if I didn't go past the poles. The markers."

  "You feel free now?” he asked with an edge in his voice.

  Trista searched his face to see if he were really angry with her. He was as inscrutable as ever.

  "Are you angry with me?” she asked carefully in Dannarri. She didn't want him to misunderstand any of the words.

  "Yes,” he replied. “I thought you were going to die."

  "I ... believed ... I was going to, too.” She faltered over the word, but knew she'd said it correctly. Q'winn did not move.

  He sat there looking at her until she had to look away. She twisted and set her empty cup on the floor beside the couch. She glanced at him. He was still watching her, but his look had changed. She shivered and stared past him and through the open window to the blue sky.

  "W'eylin says you're in a lot of trouble,” she said quietly. “He says the Elders will not let you be an avaki any longer. I'm sorry."

  "W'eylin talks prematurely,” he told her. She shook her head. “Too soon,” he said to clarify his statement.

  "Does that mean you're not in trouble?"

  "Oh, no. I'm in a lot of trouble.” He leaned forward and tipped her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers in the softest of kisses.

  It was the briefest touch, almost delicate, but the shock of it ran through her. The kiss ended almost as soon as it had begun. Her fingers rose to her lips. She heard him inhale sharply.

  "Why did you do that? Q'winn?"

  "Do they not do that on your world?"

  She bit her lip and watched as he swallowed. Hard.

  "Yes, we do that. Why do the Dannarri do it?"

  "To say what words cannot,” he said, touching her cheek again. She took his hand and held it, marveling at the strength she could feel in it.

  "A man's hands are so different,” she murmured, placing hers fingertip to fingertip with his. His was almost twice the size of hers. She looked at him and shivered again at the intensity of his gaze.

  "Trista, were you running away from me?” he asked, his voice low and thick.

  She shook her head. “No, I wasn't running away from anything. I was on my way back when they found me."

  "Promise me you will not leave Mahdis Keep again without telling me. I will show you our borders so that you will stay well inside them.” He slipped his fingers down to intertwine with hers. “Promise me, Trista."

  "I promise,” she said. It was her turn to swallow as he pulled their linked hands to his lips. He closed his eyes and bowed his head over them as kissed the back of her hand.

  He finally raised his head and the warmth in his eyes staggered her. She tried to smile at him but couldn't quite do it. She wanted to look away from his gaze, but those sea-green eyes held her spellbound. The corner of his mouth quirked in a little smile.

  "Tomorrow, if it is warm, I will take you outside."

  "Avakis do not know females,” she whispered. She dreaded what he might say next. Dreaded that he would say it was true and that one day he would need to turn from her. He lifted their still-clasped hands to the center of his chest.

  "I will know you."

  * * * *

  True to his word Q'winn returned when the sun was high overhead and the warmest part of the day was approaching. He led his bogga to the base of the stairs. The beast stood, rock still, as Q'winn wrapped Trista in a blanket, then lifted her onto the animal before swinging up behind her. They were settling when Vanteen and W'eylin began to argue.

  Vanteen won. W'eylin reached down and pulled her up behind him. Trista and Q'winn grinned at each other and were careful not to let Vanteen see them.

  Trista was aware of the long looks they received as they rode carefully through the paved lanes to the outside gate. She glanced up at Q'winn but he was focused on the guard at the gate. He nodded to the man as they passed. The man bowed. Q'winn said nothing.

  It wasn't long before Trista felt overly warm and tried to loosen the blanket. Q'winn's jaw tightened and he ordered her—politely—to stay wrapped up. He finally gave in as she pointed out that if she got sweaty and the breeze kicked up, she'd get chilled again.

  They rode for about fifteen minutes before Q'winn turned the bogga down the hill. They crossed the tree line and entered the woods and picked up another trail. It looked well traveled and Trista wondered where it led. Q'winn was silent.

  "Where are we going?” she finally asked.

  "To Recenni. It is a small enclave. There is a small inn there."

  "A small village?"

  "Yes. We will stop there. You will rest and we will eat."

  "So you're taking me out to lunch for our first date with those two back there as our chaperones?” she asked in Terran.

  He sighed. “You do that deliberately, don't you?” he asked, still speaking Dannarri.

  "Of course,” she replied, smiling at him.

  "Explain the word, Trista,” he said long-sufferingly. She laughed and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened, then relaxed.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't do that, should I?” she asked.

  "It surprised me, that is all.” He settled her more firmly against him. “How do I get you to do it again?"

  "Ah. You have to wait until you've done something worthy of it,” she teased.

  "Explain the word, Trista. What is chaa-pur-rownes?"

  "Are W'eylin and Vanteen along to keep us out of trouble?"

  "W'eylin was supposed to do that. Now he has his mind on a woman and is not watching you and me."

  "So W'eylin was to be our chaperone,” she explained. She tilted her head back to look at the riders behind them. Vanteen had her arms tightly around W'eylin's waist and he was grinning.

  "So maybe we are their chaperones,” she said to Q'winn.

  "No, Trista. He is definitely to watch me. To protect me from myself,” he said dryly. Trista chuckled.

  "That is definitely what a chaperone does. Protect one from oneself."

  The implication of that suddenly struck her making her shiver again. He felt it and started to pull the blanket back around her. She swatted at his hands. Their sudden movements made the bogga toss its head and sidestep.

  "Here now,” Q'winn said to the beast and whistled to it. Its ears flicked back and it turned its head enough to roll a large brown eye at Q'winn. He patted its flank and it settled back
into its easy stride. “We will soon be there,” he told the beast.

  "I have had this bogga for five seasons,” Q'winn told Trista conversationally. “Roj is a good bogga. I think it is time to put him with his own bunch of females. See how he breeds."

  Trista knew she didn't have to respond to that so she didn't.

  "I smell smoke."

  "We are almost there."

  A few moments later the trail opened and Recenni sprawled before them.

  Q'winn halted the bogga before a large stone building boasting a wide verandah. He instructed Trista to balance herself while he dismounted. Then he reached up for her and caught her as she slid off the animal's back.

  "Can you walk up the steps?” Q'winn sounded concerned. “I will carry you."

  "No, Q'winn, I'm fine.” Trista determinedly climbed the stairs. It was harder than she thought it would be. When she reached the top she started coughing. Vanteen came running.

  "I'm fine,” Trista told them when she'd caught her breath.

  "You sit.” Q'winn pointed to a bench. Trista saw his worried look and obeyed him without comment.

  "Is there hot tea here?” she asked. W'eylin snorted.

  "There is hot zhecr,” Q'winn replied, rolling his eyes at this brother. “She says the word on purpose. It's her word for the zhecr. She likes to tease me with it."

  W'eylin gave her a look that clearly said she was misbehaving. Q'winn looked at his brother and Vanteen.

  "Don't just stand there. Go get her the zhecr!” he ordered. They laughed at him good-naturedly and ambled through the door. Trista leaned her head back and closed her eyes until her lunch came. She could feel Q'winn watching her.

  Lunch was a simple affair consisting of a thick stew and moist dark bread. Q'winn applied a generous amount of a thick green spread to her bread then had to coax Trista to taste it. She had to admit it was good.

  The women were given hot tea, but Q'winn and W'eylin indulged in some of the thick, dark malt brew the innkeeper offered them. Q'winn offered Trista a taste.

  Trista was reminded of the taste of cold beer. She had the sudden curiosity of what it would taste like to kiss Q'winn now with the brew flavoring his mouth. She shivered.

  "Are you cold? The air has shifted. We should move around to the other side and let the building block the wind,” Q'winn said to her.

  "All right. There's more sun over there, too.” Trista stood and dutifully fiddled with her blanket, then walked across the porch. When she got to the end she could only stop and stare at the valley many miles below.

  "What is that?"

  "That is the nearest city. Patann. I don't go down to it often."

  "It's huge!"

  "Yes. Everything modern is there,” he said dryly.

  "You don't like modern? You have a spaceship. I have some questions now."

  Q'winn cocked an eyebrow at her. “You wonder why the Cael live as we do with all that industrialization at our feet."

  "Well, you lost me on that big word. You do that on purpose, too. But I'd bet it means all that,” she motioned down the valley, “so that would be one of my questions, yes,” she said. “So? Why do you?"

  "The old ways will pass soon enough. Mahdis Keep will be lost. It's beauty gone,” Q'winn said sadly. “Some of us would rather hold onto its beauty, at least for our lifetimes, than have all the luxury of the valley."

  "But you have the Anakin."

  "Yes. We are a people perched on the edge of what was and what is to be, Trista. Each step will be embraced in its own time. The Cael will one day leave Mahdis behind. It is the way of life."

  Trista looked at his strong profile as Q'winn gazed out over the valley.

  It was not just the Cael as a whole that perched on that edge. It was Q'winn himself, and they both knew it.

  Eight

  Trista's overexertion caused her fever to returned in the night. When Q'winn learned of it the next morning he didn't wait for details. He ordered the poor novice, who'd had the misfortune to tell him, to go tell the Elders and inform them that he would be late arriving at his scheduled appearance before them.

  He didn't bother to knock on the door, either, when he got to Trista.

  It was his door.

  Trista was standing in the middle of the floor obediently sipping the noxious medicinal tea. Vanteen was chattering, rapid-fire, in her native tongue and glaring at Trista.

  "I see you're not so ill, after all,” Q'winn said dryly.

  Actually, the way the light hit her robe, he was seeing quite a bit. His phallix pulled up so tightly he had to fight the urge to fidget from foot to foot.

  Trista looked at him. “Where are we going today?” she asked, hastily setting her cup on the table as Vanteen resumed her Okarran litany.

  "We are not going anywhere. You are going to rest,” Q'winn told her firmly. He pointed to her cup. “Drink that. All of it."

  "No."

  "Do not start with me. The Elders have summoned me and here I stand with you. I was told you were ill again."

  "I'm fine, really, I just—"

  "You are so fine they summoned the herbalist in the night."

  "I was just tired. I want to get out of here again today. Mekka. Please."

  Q'winn was whipped and he knew it. She had to say please with that look on her face, didn't she? There was no way he could refuse her unless his meeting with the Elders took an unforeseen path.

  "I must meet with the Elders,” he told her, trying to look stern. “We will not go far today. Perhaps just over the ridge and find a warm spot to watch the ocean."

  "Thank you, Q'winn,” she said. She moved to wrap her arms around his waist and Vanteen stopped her, actually hissed at her.

  Q'winn said a few soft words in Okarran. Vanteen retreated to the far side of the room.

  "You can thank me now,” Q'winn said softly to Trista. He was almost vibrating with the hope she would touch him. She didn't disappoint him.

  Trista slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed gently, then she stepped away.

  "That's called a hug,” she told him.

  "Ah. It's very pleasant,” he said, smiling. “People on your world do this often?"

  Trista nodded.

  "Why?” he asked.

  "To say what words cannot."

  Q'winn caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “Dress warmly. Today you will ride your own bogga."

  Heedless of Vanteen's glittering gaze, Q'winn pulled Trista to him and brushed his lips to her forehead and left to face the Elders.

  * * * *

  "You shame us, Q'winn H'akan."

  "You shame yourselves. You imagine that which has not occurred, then you begin to believe your own myth."

  "The female sleeps in your rooms!"

  "I do not sleep there with her,” Q'winn pointed out.

  "You rode out of the Keep with her in front of you on your bogga yesterday! We did not imagine that!"

  "And today she will ride her own animal."

  "Today! You cannot think to spend your day with her again. You have duties!"

  Q'winn looked at each Elder in turn. He respected these men. But he had never aspired to sit in one of their chairs. It was beyond his reach and he accepted that.

  "Did you not read my statement? I no longer consider myself to be among you."

  "We do not accept that, Q'winn H'akan. The female has influenced you, as we feared she would. She must be returned to her world."

  "And in time she will be. I tell you again. I will learn all I can of her world from her.” Q'winn willed himself to remain impassive. He wanted to pace the floor and wave his arms and maybe shake one or two of the older men.

  "We must be careful in space,” he explained to them yet again. “It is the same as traveling the ridges. One does not simply travel from world to world without leaving traces. Even now, fuel residue from the Anakin is in the space around her world. It must be allowed to dissipate, and some real time pass, before we can safely return. W
e do not want our enemies to find this place."

  "Why should we care about this world?” an Elder asked.

  "For the same reason we care about our own, old man,” Q'winn snapped. “We are not so strong that we cannot fall to those who prey upon the weak. If we do not protect the prey, do we not aid the hunter? Would you become like the Raku?"

  That caused a ripple among the Elders. The Raku exploited the people of the new worlds they found. The Dannarri had been counted among those worlds over a thousand years ago.

  "You made a vow to serve Sioda. You made a vow to remain chaste,” the oldest of the Elders said gently. “Do you think we do not understand what draws you to her?"

  "I have not broken that vow."

  "You would not be the first do to so. There are those in this room who have,” the Elder told him quietly.

  Q'winn tried to stop it but his mouth dropped open.

  "Sioda asks much of us. When we fall, she does not cast us aside. She forgives,” the Elder continued. The old man rose and made his way painfully to stand in front of Q'winn. His rheumy eyes were fixed on the Lamp of Sioda, burning on the Altar.

  "One day, you will take my place in that center chair. It is my hope that you feel worthy of it when you do.” The Elder paused and looked up at Q'winn.

  "Do as you must, Q'winn H'akan. Your place among us will remain yours."

  * * * *

  Q'winn sat shaking in the Believer's Chapel. How much more of a sign did he need? He'd certainly gotten all the signs that could not be misunderstood. He'd always thought affirmation would be reassuring. He'd thought wrong.

  He would one day lead the Elders.

  He was a jayalor. If that were discovered, their plans for him would be abandoned.

  Nor could he seem to wrap his mind around the revelation that there were Elders, or at least one Elder, who had broken the vow of purity. Could they possibly know he was a jayalor and taken him in regardless? Had other jayalors sat among them?

  The midday horn sounded. He had to go to Trista. She'd been waiting for hours.

  He left the chapel by the private door the avakis used. They had not accepted his withdrawal from the Order nor had they stripped him of title. The passage was still his to use.