Gama and Hest: An Ahsenthe Cycle companion novella (The Ahsenthe Cycle)

by Razevich, Alexes

  Then she saw.

  They all saw.

  Du led a procession of dwellings. A small procession in number — only three — but huge in implication. The structure’s broad faces came into view first, sunlight glinting off windows, doors shut, the residences scraping along the ground The dwellings moved slowly through the corenta more gracefully than Gama would have thought they could, They knew, all the soumyo, that structures could move, but if any had ever seen it happen, there were no stories about it. It must have been untold generations since the last structure moved. Why would they? This sort of disharmony was unheard of before now.

  Something else stirred in her mind, a memory of a story she’d heard long ago — that just as a full corenta can fly, so can each structure in it, should it choose. These structures had made a different choice, to scrape along slowly, noisily, making a show of it. Whose idea was that — the structures’ or Du’s?

  Du marched ahead, the blue-purple of triumph glowing on her throat. Gama had a sudden urge to rush out and shove her away, to hold up her hands and force the structures to halt and return to their rightful places through force of will alone. Her neck warmed with equal parts anger and shame colors. Du no longer felt like kin — no true sister would willingly upset their harmony this way — but Du was. She always would be. If the males and females separated, Gama would have Du in the rest of her life, but not Hest, even though they still lived in the same corenta.

  Mahn and Prill followed a step or two behind Du, their heads high, blue-purple bright on their throats. Gama tried to catch Prill’s eye. Prill looked away.

  In places, there wasn’t room enough for the dwellings to pass through. Other structures were forced to move back — straining and creaking at the unfamiliar motion — their efforts adding to the growing cacophony. Dust filled the air. A large blue-and-yellow bird suddenly swooped down, flying low over the rooftops, squawking the name they called them, “Gwant. Gwant.” The birds usually traveled in pairs, and for half a heartbeat Gama wondered where its mate was.

  She’d been focused on the moving structures and hadn’t noticed the other females walking beside their dwellings — one with the dwelling that followed Du’s, and two more beside the third dwelling — Crina and Tri, who had always lived in it. Were more females walking on the other side, where she couldn’t see? There could be none, or the same number, or twice as many. Three times as many. Her stomach clenched.

  A group of males stood a small distance from her. They jeered as the dwellings approached, but not loudly, not to make show to any but each other. Gama strained to see if Hest stood with them, and was glad he didn’t.

  Reln burst through the crowd, took Du by the arm and talked furiously at her, though Gama couldn’t hear what he said. The procession skidded to a halt while they spoke, the dwellings behind Du’s coming up tight behind it and shifting a little from side to side. The great wind sound of structures talking rose from every direction — an argument, Gama assumed from the depth of blowing. She could guess at what was being said — some saying stay put, others wanting to move. She wondered how many were in harmony with the separation. The structures weren’t sharing their thoughts with the soumyo.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the small male band growing restless — craning their necks, glaring at Reln and Du and the soumyo gathered beyond their tight knot. Every throat was lit — anger, fear, and confusion, but some, oddly, showed amusement. She wanted to stomp on those amused feet, change those amusement colors on their throats to the color of despair. Were they without sight? Without compassion? Bit by bit, their lives were being changed. Destroyed. She felt it pressing down, a deep weight in her chest.

  This disruption is the males’ fault — the thought came as clear as a voice in her mind. From Reln on out, males didn’t understand the importance of staying connected. Of being one. Reln shouldn’t have let Prill leave his dwelling. He should have fought for her to stay.

  A dark anger coiled in her belly. Males weren’t loyal to their sisters. Look how Hest had jumped to go back to Home the moment he was asked. He’d given no thought to her, how she would feel — cast off like a hatchling’s down, of no importance in this new life.

  Du and Mahn were right. Gama didn’t believe it was females and males living together that had brought on the vanishings — didn’t believe that separation would end the chaos, the way so many did — but that hardly mattered. Let the males band together for themselves. Let them find their own food, weave their own cloth, and sing their songs with no female voice to add richness.

  Her face warmed and her throat burned. Why was she thinking these things, feeling these things? She wanted to shut off the voice in her mind, but the words rolled on. The males had ruined their way of living. They should be shunned, turned out of Reev. Or better — leave Reev to them. A new, clean place for the females would be best.

  She looked around at her corenta-kin. Throats that had shown a variety of emotions now all blazed brown-black in anger, the same color she felt on her neck. She couldn’t say how she knew, but she was sure the same thoughts that sounded in her mind were being heard in theirs — females blaming males. The males blaming the females.

  Reln gave Du a shove, pushing her away from him. “Open the main gate,” he yelled. “These sisters are shunned. They will leave Reev forever.” Gama had never seen Reln angry, not like this. She’d never seen him push someone.

  Whatever Du felt, it didn’t show. How could she feel so little that her neck stayed colorless? She must be feeling deep emotion — anger at Reln, or frustration, something. Du drew her mouth into a tight line, and resumed leading the procession. Mahn stepped up boldly beside her sister. Slowly a color began to glow on both their throats — the red-pink of certainty, the same color Prill had shown when she announced she was leaving. Neither Du nor Mahn had doubts or second thoughts. They believed completely in the rightness of their actions. Whatever was in their minds, whatever goals they sought, felt as true to them as their own names.

  Gama looked in the direction of the gate. She couldn’t see it from there, but knew it had followed Reln’s order and opened. Wall, at least, still listened to Reln.

  She didn’t know where Du and the other females had thought to go at first, but she didn’t think it was out of Reev. More likely to an open space where the three dwellings could sit down close together. Gama felt sure that leaving Reev wasn’t what Du had had in mind, but Reln had made his judgment clear. Du was free to do as she wished — outside.

  Gama’s hand flew to her throat. These females would leave. They would go — where? They had dwellings, but no wall, no protection from the night beasts or from whatever it was that had taken Frarm and the soumyo of Trontin.

  Reln, she sent, but he didn’t reply. Reln. These are our sisters. What will happen to them if they leave the protection of Reev? You can still stop this. Please.

  She’d seen the thought-grains float to Reln and be absorbed. Gama knew he’d heard her. He gave silence as his reply.

  A female in the crowd stepped into the open way and joined the procession, her head high, and her back as stiff as frozen water.

  Another joined.

  And another.

  Until nearly all the females of Reev were moving together toward the gate.

  Despair welled up in her. This was wrong. Females shouldn’t leave Reev any more than the males should. They were corenta-kin, female and male together.

  Her heart beat against her ribs at a new thought. What would happen to the females who stayed? Would the males throw them out, too — make them doumanas — females without males — whether they wanted to be or not?

  She huffed out a shaky breath and looked up. The sky shimmered. It was beautiful, as hypnotic as sunlight on moving water. Her sorrow drained away. She wanted to fill her being with that shimmering sky — wanted Hest beside her, so it could fill him too.

  This is a day of beauty, she thought. And then realized it wasn’t her thought at all — it w
as a voice so deep inside that it seemed like her own thought.

  All her brothers and sisters stood still, some with heads cocked to the side. Gama knew they heard it too, the voice that seemed like thought. The voice she’d heard in the darkness and then again today telling her that all their troubles were the males’ fault.

  Don’t listen, she sent to her corenta-kin, the thought-grains speeding in all directions.

  Her thought-grains reached a sister standing near, came as close to her sister’s skin as possible without passing through, then slid away like sand down a hillside. They couldn’t hear her.

  Thoughts streamed into her head — ideas of a better way of living, a picture in her mind of a giant corenta that didn’t move. The deep, peaceful feeling flooded her again. She could see herself living in this new place with her old sisters and with new sisters from other corentas, in tall, just-made dwellings, their every need met. They’d have the chance to do exciting, different sorts of work. Everyone in harmony, content, with no males to disrupt their happiness.

  Gama shoved the thought away. It wasn’t her thought.

  Mahn, Du, Prill, and most of the other females of Reev stood very close together, Du talking fast. The sisters were nodding. Smiles spread on the faces Gama could see.

  Prill walked over to her as if in a dream. She reached out and stroked Gama’s throat. “Sister,” she said, “Du has had a wonderful idea. We females can no longer live in this corenta. We will leave Reev and start a new community, one that’s set-placed, in the Gertupa wilderness, far away from the corrupting influences of the males. We’d like you to join us.”

  Gama saw it clearly in her mind again, the giant corenta with structures taller than any in Reev, gleaming in the sun.

  Du and the sisters standing with her eyed Gama with curiosity. She felt heat rising up her breastbone. Had they thought Prill need only stroke her throat and she would follow blindly?

  “Prill. This ‘thought.’ Did it come only to Du, or did all of you think of it at the same time?”

  Prill’s voice was sure and confident. “The moment Du began to speak, we were in such close harmony we knew what she would say.”

  Gama rubbed her hands on her thighs, the heat in her chest growing hotter. “What if it wasn’t Du’s idea at all? What if the thought was fed to her? To all of you. To all of us in Reev.”

  One of Prill’s spots lit with the orange-yellow of confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Gama felt her neck warm in response. She was as confused as Prill, trying to pick truth from seemed truth — not sure she knew the difference.

  “No matter how close in harmony we are, a whole corenta, females and males, wouldn’t have the same thought at the same time unless something was giving us the thought. It’s not real. These aren’t our visions. They — ” She struggled with how to explain what she felt.

  Prill’s jumped in before she could find the words. “Then whose visions are they?”

  “I’m not sure. I just know something is false here. I think something is feeding these thoughts to us, making us do its bidding.”

  Prill’s throat turned nearly all brown-black with anger. “This is the first day in a long time that I haven’t been frightened. Today I know I’m going somewhere where life will be good again, peaceful — somewhere I’ll be safe.”

  “But you don’t know — ”

  “Du said you’d be resistant.” The dark-brown of disappointment replaced several of the brown-black spots on her throat. “You’re tied to Hest. He doesn’t want to be your kin anymore. He wants his own life with the males. Making things up and telling tales won’t change that.”

  Her words cut like ice into Gama’s heart. There was truth to them, but not whole truth. She was tied to Hest, but her love for him hadn’t caused the feeling of wrongness she couldn’t shake.

  A new vision came to her, of living not in a giant corenta, but in a place where structures stood alone without a wall to embrace them. Gama saw sisters in meadows and fields, gathering crops that offered themselves happily to be food. The same rush of peace she’d felt before filled her again. It was harder to push it away this time. She forced her gaze to the sky, to break the vision.

  Gama grabbed Prill’s arm. “Look up. That sparkling sky isn’t natural. It has something to do with the new thoughts in our minds. We’re being led, not traveling in a new direction by free will.”

  Prill stared at her. Gama kept her face bland. The spots on Prill’s neck showed clearly that she feared there was truth in what Gama had said — and that Prill resented her for it. Gama’s neck warmed, but it wasn’t Prill who caused her anger. She threw her head back.

  “Show yourself,” she screamed at the sky. “You put words in our minds. Come say them to our faces.”

  Ten

  The sudden and absolute silence stunned her. No whooshing of structures arguing. No voices of her sisters or brothers. She felt the eyes of her kin on her, the heat of her spots warming. The sound of her swallow seemed loud in the silence.

  Not complete silence, though — a dim hum vibrated in the background.

  Maybe she’d gone mad, but her heart felt true. Her neck erupted with the colors of anger and determination. She turned her gaze back toward the sky, daring whatever was there to show itself. The shimmer shrank in size, then grew dense and brighter.

  Du ran toward Prill and Gama, her steps fast and loud. Gama caught Du’s movement in the corner of her eye, her focus still on the sky. The glittering bits began to slowly turn. Du grabbed Gama’s shoulder and opened her mouth to speak, but Gama shook her head and pointed up. “Look.”

  The shimmering had formed into wavering bands of gleaming light floating toward them as slowly as leaves through water. The hum grew louder.

  Gama’s heart pounded like rocks down a hillside. Du’s fingers dug into her shoulders.

  A voice sounded deep inside her — a thrum that filled her whole body.

  We have come not to frighten you, something thought-talked, and she saw that all her kin heard and were listening. We have come to be new with you and better.

  She shot a glance at Reln, expecting him to think-talk back — to speak up for them. He must have realized as she had that the source of this voice and the source of their sorrows was the same. The two had to be connected. The coincidence would be too great if they were not. And there was the hum.

  Reln seemed frozen, only the spots on his neck alive with the colors of confusion and fear. Du loosened her grip on Gama’s shoulder and hugged her arms over her chest. Gama’s glance sped from face to face. All her kin seemed struck dumb and frozen where they stood, except Prill, who looked ready to run. Gama touched her throat gently, worried that if Prill panicked, everyone would.

  Who are you? Gama sent.

  Prill pulled away, but stood still, listening now, the corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  A sparkling band wavered in front them. Du reached out to touch the thing. Gama grabbed her hand and pulled it back. Du looked at her, a bit wild-eyed. The band grew bright — brighter.

  I, in particular, am called Weast, the voice said. I speak for the us. We all together are the lumani. Our home is far from here. We have traveled and seen you and watched. We apologize for confusion we may have caused through no fault of us.

  Prill blinked, as if just waking from a deep sleep and surprised to find herself standing there.

  Other bands floated above their heads. Gama tried to count them, but the shapes shifted and moved so much that it was impossible. Around them the sky was a vivid blue and cloudless.

  Gama glared at Reln again, wanting him to act, to communicate with whatever this was hanging before them in the air. Her heart pounded. She put her hand over her throat to hide the fear colors there, in case these sparkling things could read them and see how deep her fear ran.

  Why have you come? she sent to the sparkling thing that named itself Weast. What do you want?

  To improve you and watch, it se
nt. To be not kin, but friends with kind gifts of a better life.

  The giant corenta, she sent, sure now that these things — these lumani — had delivered the pictures to the soumyo’s minds. What did Weast mean by to improve you?

  Prill stood next to Gama, her eyes darting from side to side as she listened. Gama touched her neck again and gave her a thin smile. Prill smiled back, but the smile was strained. Color flared on Prill’s throat as panic rose in her again.

  The picture came once more, the giant corenta, filling Gama’s mind. The sense of peace the picture brought chilled her. It worked on Prill. Her smile broadened and became real. Her muscles relaxed. The colors on her throat changed from muddy-brown to the pale-green of contentment.

  Gama gave up covering her throat — if the lumani could read the colors, they already knew what each soumyo felt. She put her hand to her forehead instead, to shade her eyes from the brightness of the glittering bands.

  What sort of better life are you offering? she asked Weast.

  A pleasant one. Open space for making food so there will never be hunger. Places for processing a mineral we have seen here that will give new ease to your living. Places for males and places for females, where each may find joy. We have many gifts for you.

  Again the mind-pictures came, a corenta without a wall, set down by a verdant meadow. And again, the rush of peace.

  The pale-green of contentment grew brighter on Prill’s throat, joined by the silver-blue of gratitude. Du’s throat showed the same.

  Pale-green and silver-blue in various intensities and combinations glowed on nearly every throat Gama could see. Here and there the pale-yellow-blue of acceptance, or the brown-black of anger, or the muddy-brown of fear. She felt her own fear rising — fear of this feeling of peace. Fear of the lumani.

  Her gaze stopped again at Reln. Why didn’t he speak up? Interrupt her think-talk with his own and take over? He was their guide. This was his duty.