by Sharon Lee
Her sister considered her, face bearing an expression between wariness and hope.
"Do you – do you know that?" she asked.
Kishara thought about those things that had produced this moment, when all of those in possession of small talents were held away from joining with the Healers in their guildhall, were declared dangers to society and to the homeworld, and ordered to submit to sterilization, execution, or banishment.
There had been a certain amount of genuine fear in the discovery that there were so many "unregulated talents" present in the general population, for there are always those who fear what they fail to understand. But there had also been greed – for some clans would lose too many, and they would be easy meat for those who were ruled by avarice.
So, then, thought Kishara; the truth for Troodi, so that she might stand strong and vigilant for the clan.
"Yes," said Kishara firmly. "I know that you will be needed."
There were footsteps heard then, down the end of the hall, moving rapidly closer. Kishara turned to pick up her jacket.
She kissed her sister's cheek again before opening the door to reveal her cousin Ern Din's frowning face.
"Come," she said briskly, stepping 'round him. "It is time for me to go."
* * *
Perhaps it was spite. Perhaps it was expediency. Perhaps it was, as they said, honest horror to find a dire threat to the purity of Liaden society living, all unrecognized, among them.
However it became known, and for whatever reason it was pursued, the Council of Clans had, by majority vote – Korval and Ixin, Justus and Deshnol the four clans who stood against – decreed that all clans give up such members who exhibited abilities which were known to be out of the common way, whether the delm deemed them dangerous or not.
The penalty for withholding such persons was to be written out of the Book of Clans, which threat was immediately implemented, to the sorrow of Clan-Natis-that-was, which had long been a thorn in the side of the Council. It had been a thorough breaking, with the delm, both thodelms, and their heirs sent to outworlds as bonded laborers, while those others of Natis who were deemed "untainted" were acquired by such houses that had need to boost their numbers. The two found to possess abilities out of the common way were put to death, the Council disallowing the delm her right to perform the act herself.
Though she had been required to watch.
Having administered this terrible lesson, the Council may have been confident that delms would act as delms must – to preserve the greater good, and the greater numbers, of their clans.
But even frightened delms could not bring themselves to surrender their children – innocent of any wrongdoing save being odd – to death. Delm spoke to delm, there was talk – much talk – regarding what melant'i required, and more talk yet regarding the Code, and what might fall outside of civilized behavior.
There had been consternation in the halls of the Council. There had been shouting and threats. The Council offered a compromise – the odd ones would not be murdered, but merely sterilized so their abnormal genes died with them.
Into this second wave of outrage stepped Clan Korval, who had been instrumental in creating the Healers Guild, some years gone by. Korval suggested that the abnormal – which in gentle courtesy they named "small talents" – be brought into the Healers Guild, and trained in the forms of that House. Thus affiliated, they would be neither surprise nor threat.
The Council ordered the Accountants Guild, who had drawn up the charter for the Healers, to find if Korval's suggested solution had merit.
It was said that the qe'andra who stood before the Council to report the results of research wept openly as he gave the opinion of the experts: None but those who displayed the talents detailed in the charter, those talents acknowledged as being on the Healer Spectrum might join the Guild. No provision had been made in the charter for other, or different, styles of talent. The advice of the Accountants Guild was that the Healer's Guild amend their charter, or that another charter be drawn up, forming a guild which would protect those talents not found to be on the Healer Spectrum. He had added, into the silence that greeted this report, that the Accountants Guild would be pleased to assist in either project, pro bono.
Speaker for Council ruled the discussion of amended charters and new Guilds off-topic, and was on the edge of calling for a vote on the issue of nullifying the threat posed by the abnormal, but Korval was up again, demanding that each and all of the small talents be tested by the Healers, so that those who were found to be on the Healer Spectrum could properly be brought into the Guild.
The demand was reasonable; the Council could not gainsay it, though it could and did set a tight deadline.
So, the small talents were tested.
Kishara herself had come close – quite improbably close, to her mind – to achieving the Healer Spectrum on the strength of her second small talent. The testing Healer, all honor to him, had insisted on a second examination, by a master of the Guild. The master found her gift too erratic to be of use to the House. Even then, the testing Healer had asserted that she might well improve with training; that they were none of them born in perfect control of their gifts, that –
He had been silenced then by the Council-appointed witness, even as Kishara had whispered to let be, lest he suddenly be discovered to have no aptitude for Healing, and was in addition a danger to the general population.
It was said that three of the many tested were found to be on the Healer Spectrum. The rest – were once again championed by Clan Korval and their allies.
They offered those small talents who did not wish to remain on the homeworld at the price of their future children the opportunity to emigrate to a world seeking colonists, well away from Liad, and far from the oversight of the Council of Clans. Clan Korval and Clan Ixin between them would supply transport.
* * *
They were counted off in twelves as they came aboard, the twelfth given a tablet, which displayed orders and information. The tablet-holder of Kishara's group was a woman who gave her name simply as Pritti, with neither Line nor clan to distinguish her further, who asked their names, and ticked them off on the screen. That done, she guided them to a pod of twelve acceleration couches placed kin-close near the end of a short hallway.
They settled in their own order, with Kishara on Pritti's left, which earned her a smile and a question.
"What is your talent?"
"I am found to be too fortunate," she said promptly. "And you?"
"I can tell who has touched an object only by touching it myself."
Kishara frowned.
"That sounds – rather useful," she said, then caught herself up. "Your pardon."
"No need." Pritti smiled. "It is rather useful, as it happens, merely it is not on the Healer Spectrum. Also, my cousin Ihana has secrets to keep, and has long wished me away."
She glanced beyond Kishara, and spoke to the elder reclining on the next couch.
"And your talent, sir?"
"I can weave rainbows." He moved a wrinkled hand in an arc above his face, as he lay there.
Colors glowed against the air, following the pattern his hand described. He made a fist, and the dainty thing lingered for a moment before fading coyly away.
"Where is the harm in that?" demanded Kishara.
The elder laughed softly and said, "Not on the Healer Spectrum."
"Indeed." Pritti turned to the couch on her right, where a man of no particular distinction sat, feet firmly on the decking.
"What is your talent, Mor Gan?"
"I?" He lifted a shoulder, and let it fall. "I – make suggestions."
It was said easily enough, but Kishara shivered where she lay, propped on one elbow.
"Suggest what sort of things," Pritti asked, sharp enough that Kishara knew she was not alone in being discomfited.
"Well, I might suggest that you give me that silver ring on your finger," he said, and there was something there, in the cadence
of his words. Pritti raised a hand on which silver flashed brightly. She raised her other hand, as if she would have the ornament off. Kishara held her breath even as the other woman hesitated.
"No," Pritti said, firmly, and folded her hands together in her lap.
The man – Mor Gan – laughed.
"And there you have it," he said, his voice easy again, "perfectly useless. However, it is disquieting, which is why my delm cast me out before even the Council's recent start."
"Cast you out?" said the elder. "Where did you go, then?"
"Oh, to Low Port," said Mor Gan, and there, again, was that note in his voice. "A man might profit there, if he takes good counsel and aligns himself well."
"And yet," Pritti said, "you did not choose to stay on Liad, though you were so well-situated."
There was a smile in his voice this time.
"I had always wished to see other worlds, and it scarcely seemed that a like offer would come my way again."
There was an uneasy silence. Pritti had raised her head to address the couch beyond, when there came a loud click, which might have been, Kishara thought, from the all-ship comm. In another moment, this theory was confirmed by a voice speaking in the mode of pilot to passengers.
"All passengers, this is Grasa ven'Deelin Clan Ixin, pilot and first board. We will be lifting within the next hour. Allow me to regret the conditions in which you are constrained to undertake this journey. Our purpose was to accommodate as many as we might without endangering either the ship or its passengers. In keeping with these goals, we will be introducing a soporific into the air supply. The journey will pass more quickly for you, and you will consume less supplies. By reducing the amount of rations we must carry, we were able to accommodate three more passengers.
"Those who were given tablets upon boarding are the leaders of your twelve-group. Each group will be waked according to the schedule now on the screen. Leaders will at those times check on the well-being of the group, and see that each partakes of the nutrients provided. Again, allow me to regret these conditions. The pilots swear that we will go as quickly as possible, and will deliver you safely into circumstances far better than those you are leaving."
There was some exclamation, and a very modest amount of disturbance, due, Kishara thought, lying back on her couch, to the drug that had doubtless been introduced into the air supply some time ago.
She sighed, and closed her eyes, and deliberately took deep breaths until sleep swept her away.
* * *
It was a strange sleep, full with chaotic events and odd people, and her brief wakings scarcely more sensible. She was given a hard bar to eat and something thick and vile-tasting to drink, marched to the necessary, and back to the couch, where the dreams took her again between one blink and another.
There was, she thought, at one waking, an empty couch, which had been the elder's. She had stopped there, struck with something that might have been sorrow, had she been awake enough to process the emotion.
"It was only a pretty thing he did, and no harm to it," she'd said, and Pritti – perhaps it was Pritti – made some answer that she forgot as soon as she'd heard it.
The dreams became ever more mysterious, salted with a sense of danger, and one face, seen often – a hard face, set in displeasure, well-marked brows pulled tight over dark eyes, mouth straight and tight.
There was something attached to that face – some sort of urgency that tasted of her gift. She sought that face, tried to tarry nearby when she found it, but she had no control, no technique, and the other images crowded her away, confusing her with their multitudes.
Then, the dreams stopped.
"Kishara," someone said. "Kishara, wake now. We are arrived."
* * *
They were a motley crowd of supplicants, to be sure, thin and pale and not a little anxious. Kishara might have found it in her to think hardly of their supposed rescuers, saving that the pilots came on-screen to explain procedures going forward, and it could be seen that they were not one whit less worn than their passengers.
"The Office of Colonization has long expected our arrival," Pilot ven'Deelin said. "There are certain examinations which must be made before applicants receive certification and are allowed the freedom of the planet. It has been requested that you be told – not all will be accepted. Those who are not will be returned to the ship."
Kishara shivered, and there was a general mutter of dismay and one question, shouted from elsewhere on the ship.
"What then, Pilots? Are we returned to the mercies of the homeworld?"
Pilot ven'Deelin raised a hand, and Kishara marked that it was not entirely steady.
"The pilots – by which I mean myself and my copilot, and the pilot-sets from the other two transports – will be discussing our options. I believe that we may still do better for you than the homeworld, but we have not the details, having only been made aware of this within the last hour ourselves."
She paused, perhaps ready to receive other questions. None came. She inclined her head and continued.
"We have received a protocol from the Colonization Office. Tablet holders will find this on their screens. Please share it with your group. The first call for this ship is expected within the next hour, local."
She sighed and closed her eyes briefly.
"Are there other questions?"
There were none. The pilot inclined her head.
"Tablet holders, please choose one of yours to pick up rations for the groups at the distribution point."
The screen went dark. Pritti used her chin to point at the man sitting two seats to her left.
"Tai Lor, of your goodness, fetch our rations."
* * *
Their group was among the last to be called to the shuttle to go down to the planet surface.
The ten that remained of their original pod of twelve sat in their designated area. Once they were strapped in Pritti, tablet in hand, read out their personal names one by one: Kishara, Mor Gan, Elasa, Tai Lor, Peiaza, Jas Min, Wilcee, Bri And, Kanni, ending with her own.
"What sort of examinations do you think we will be given?" ask Elasa, who looked the veriest child.
"Physical, certainly," said Bri And.
"Will they take note of our gifts?" asked Wilcee. "Have they even been told of our gifts?"
"Surely so," said Jas Min. "How could that have been hidden?"
"Very easily," answered Wilcee. "One need only fail of mentioning it."
"That would be unscrupulous," Jas Min objected, which drew a laugh from Peiaza.
"Recall who made these pleasant arrangements on our behalf," she said.
"Certainly, the Dragon is honorable, in its way," Jas Min said, "but if you would have it otherwise, what do you say of the Rabbit?"
"That they lend credence to the Dragon's actions," came the response. "And that it is entirely possible that they have not been given the whole, no more than we were."
"Well, if you – " Jas Min began, but Pritti waved a hand, cutting his comment short.
"The information included here," she raised her tablet so that all might see it, "is that the Colonization Office is fully informed regarding our situation and our abilities. They have no objection to talents of any sort. It is stated that some number of the existing population are likewise gifted."
She lowered the tablet and frowned.
"If I read this aright," she continued, "we comprise a second wave of colonists, the first having lost many due to the unusual environment which favors a particular sensitivity, and also the complete absence of sensitivity."
"So some of us," said Tai Lor lightly, "may be found too little in tune – or too much in tune – with this unusual environment? Which is it, I wonder?"
"That will be made known to us soon enough, I'll wager," said Peiaza, in a tone that predicted such knowledge to be dire.
The rest of them exchanged glances.
"I, for one, will put off worry until we are landed, tested, and presented w
ith real information," Bri And said sensibly. "In the meanwhile, I shall be taking a nap."
Despite they passed the entire journey unaware, that state had been more exhausting than restful. Kishara found that she might also welcome a nap. She disposed herself more comfortably in her chair, leaned her head back into the rest, and closed her eyes.
* * *
Kishara shivered in the damp breeze that teased them as they moved slowly, one-by-one, down the ramp to the omnibus at the far end. For all it was damp, and cooler than her jacket allowed for, Kishara approved of the breeze. Its freshness woke her senses, and sharpened her thoughts. There was a quality to it – a sort of sparkle, as one might have in a glass of mineral water.
The port beyond the bus – was meager. One of course had not expected Solcintra, but had envisioned something nearer to one of the modest outworld ports that Maplekai served.
From her vantage near the top of the ramp, she saw that she had been optimistic in her imaginings. The port was possibly three streets deep, and three long. Most of the buildings were low, only one rising above four stories, and that so much higher that it must be the portmaster's office.
Well, she said to herself, it is a colony world. You did know that.
The breeze buffeted her once more, and she wished for a heavier jacket. Pritti, ahead of her in line, shivered, and hunched her shoulders, as if that might protect her from the wind.
Kishara looked down the ramp toward the bus – and frowned.
A woman wearing a green tunic, and holding a clipboard, stood at the door of the bus. Each person had to speak with her before they were allowed to board the bus. And, as Kishara watched, here came Pritti, tablet in hand.
Kishara frowned, and tried to look away, to look at Pritti just ahead of her in line, but her eyes would not move; she was wholly concentrated on the scene at the door.
The woman in the green tunic held out her hand. Pritti, clutching the tablet tight, spoke – sharply, so it seemed to Kishara. The official spoke again, extending her hand more fully, and after a moment's hesitation, Pritti surrendered the tablet.