Their eyes met. Reln looked away — and Gama saw the reason as clearly as sand through clean water. All that had happened, the vanishings, the corenta that wouldn’t let him in, disharmony in Reev, Prill leaving to be with her sisters — it had shattered his heart and left him broken.
Her mind spun. She wanted Hest beside her — Hest, whose presence made her feel smarter and more capable. Hest, who had walked away, leaving her alone. She wanted Hest but didn’t need him. Didn’t need anyone but herself.
This sparkling thing was an intelligence, she was sure. Different, but no more different from the soumyo than the structures or the plants. Unless what they saw was not the intelligence itself, but its agent. Did that matter? Somewhere an intelligence, a life force, had come into the world and created chaos. Now it offered a solution — a new way of living.
Why?
She thought-talked the question publically. Prill sent her a sharp look, as though afraid questions might drive away the lumani and the promised peaceful life.
We wish to learn, Weast sent. You have much to teach us.
What could they possibly teach these creatures that came from the sky and could plant thoughts in their minds? She could come back to that. There was another question that bothered her more. When will you leave?
The band that was Weast drew in on itself, contracting to a small ball of light.
Of sorrow, Weast sent, we came but cannot leave again. Our corentas — as you would name them — are destroyed and cannot move. We will never be among those we love again. Today we seek to give gifts and live among those of this place forever more.
Sometimes a seed blows away from the plant and grows in a new place. Sometimes that new plant blocks out the sun from what grew there before. Gama didn’t like the thought that these lumani were here for good. Who could say if Weast was telling the truth about being stuck here, or if it was a convenient lie? Du and Prill seemed delighted with the idea of the lumani staying, to judge by the colors on their necks.
Reln suddenly found his voice. Came from where? he thought-talked.
Weast gave no answer. The glittering ball slowly rotated, then stretched out again into a band. Prill hugged her arms across her stomach, but the colors on her throat didn’t change.
We wish to speak with only one, Weast finally sent, as we speak through only one. This makes for clarity.
Relief was in Reln’s voice when he spoke. “Gama, please continue.”
A privilege she didn’t particularly want. She swallowed hard, and found herself looking for Hest — again wanting him beside her. He was there, somewhere in the crowd, but she couldn’t find him. Gama turned her attention back to Weast. Where is the place you came from?
The glimmering bits contracted into a straight line that angled west of the sun. Our place is there, but past the sky.
Her hands felt sweaty. She rubbed them against her hipwrap. Creatures from the sky, wanting to change the way the way the soumyo lived, calling it a gift. The soumyo had no word for what Gama feared: that these creatures would take more than they gave. Why didn’t the corenta-kin see the danger, the falseness of Weast’s words?
“Tell them,” Reln said, breaking into her thoughts, “‘You’ve given us much to think and talk about. We need time alone to discuss it.’”
She stared at him a moment, her heart shaking in her chest, then sent, Did you take our kin? The beasts, and birds, and structures, and our kin — it was you?
“Gama,” Reln said, his voice low.
The sparkling line began to curl on itself, forming a disk. Gama tried to figure out if the motions meant something, but they seemed pointless — or beyond her understanding.
We wish to learn of this place, Weast sent. To learn we must closely examine. We were not of the knowledge that some were thinking creatures until we did examine. We will not take more of this kind.
“We’re safe now,” Du whispered to Prill.
Gama swung her head and glared a moment at her two sisters. Her chest felt tight. She pushed aside her disgust with Du and turned her focus back to the lumani. Gama thought-talked the question that had scratched at her mind from the first moment Weast had spoken. Will you return what was taken?
The disk of Weast began to slowly turn. What no longer exists cannot be brought back.
Reln closed his hand around her arm. “I need time. I need… We…” His grip tightened. “Say what I told you.”
Gama’s mind felt numb. She couldn’t remember what Reln wanted her to say. Frarm, their brother, was destroyed. The soumyo of Trontin — gone. The kin stood listening, a mix of colors on every throat. Iya showed the muddy-yellow of indignation. Gama took comfort in that — felt less alone.
Reln’s hand tightened on her arm and the words flooded back to her. You’ve given us much to think and talk about. We need time alone to discuss it.
Slowly the band that called itself Weast began to break apart, the sparkling bits rising to join the ones over their heads.
We will go, Weast sent, and come again soonest for your answer.
Reln said nothing as he turned and headed toward Community Hall.
Eleven
The plaster-clad stone and mortar walls of Community Hall felt hard but reassuring behind Gama’s back. Chatter was loud in the room, and thought-grains floated in every direction. The females and the males had separated themselves — each to their own side, each talking only with sisters or brothers. Gama stayed silent. Words were too heavy. They sank in her throat.
She craned her neck looking for Hest. He had to be there. Every soumyo of Reev was there. The female-and-structure departure had stopped after the thing that called itself Weast had spoken, the roving dwellings still waiting where they had halted when the sky began to shimmer.
Hest, she sent and watched the thought-grains travel through the room, finding their target. He stood in a corner, alone. She knew he’d heard her, had seen the thought-grains reach his skin and pass through. It must have been the lumani that stopped the grains from passing through before. Hest’s back tensed and he sucked in a breath, but didn’t acknowledge her. Gama stared at him — the sting of his rejection as sharp as a bite.
A group of three males made its way to him, chattering in his direction. Hest joined the conversation as though it might save his life.
Gama picked up the tumbler of heated zwas that sat next to her on the floor and wrapped her hands around it. The warmth seeped into her palms and fingers. She stared unseeing into the bright red liquid, then set the tumbler down without drinking.
When she looked up, Prill stood in front of her, a smile on her face.
“It’s exciting, don’t you think?” Prill dropped a blue floor pillow next to where Gama sat and settled herself cross-legged on it. “A set place to live. High walls to protect us. No more worrying about what might disappear next — who might vanish.” A shiver ran across Prill’s shoulders. “We’ll be safe. Safe and happy.”
Gama shifted her gaze away. They would trade everything for safety, even the illusion of it.
Prill touched Gama’s throat. “While you’ve been with us, living with Reln and me, I’ve come to feel close to you. You’re more adventurous than I am. I’m more sensible than you are. We make a good balance. I hope you’ll be happy in our new set-place corenta.”
Why did Prill assume she’d go with the doumanas? That was the last thing she wanted to do. Gama spotted Reln threading his way through the crowd toward the dais. She nudged Prill and pointed her chin toward their guide.
Prill rubbed her mouth with her hand and leaned against the wall, watching. “What do you think he’ll say?”
Gama shrugged. Nothing was what she thought anymore — the world turned upside down and spiky. She couldn’t predict anything that might happen.
Reln climbed onto the dais and spread his arms wide in sign that he would speak. The soumyo didn’t quiet quickly. Their respect for their guide was fading, Gama realized. This was his moment — his chance to say
the right words to stop the split between female and male and hold Reev corenta together. She leaned forward.
Reln looked out over the kin of Reev, opened his mouth, but no words came out.
The hall had gone silent, the kin waiting, some growing restless, shifting from hip to hip, or rearranging their legs. Reln drew in a deep breath. Gama felt her neck warm, wanting him to make sense from the madness. He opened his mouth again, then shut it. The pale-blue of despair bloomed on his throat.
Du jumped to her feet. “Maybe Reln has nothing to say, but I do.” She strode through the hall and climbed onto the dais — a breach of manners that would have been shocking before today.
Gama stared at her sisters and brothers. No one seemed offended. No one even seemed surprised. They simply waited to hear what Du would say. Prill’s neck lit with anticipation colors. Gama’s head began to throb.
“I speak to my sisters of Reev.” Du’s voice rang through the hall. “A grand opportunity has been offered to us — the chance to make a new life, free from the males, who have shown themselves to be unfaithful members of the kin. They have shirked their work and think only of their own wellbeing above and before the good of the corenta.”
Males around the room noised their feelings about that, the few throats Gama could see lighting gray-green in disgust or muddy-yellow with indignation. But females leaned forward and nodded.
Did they not see that the lumani had forced these thoughts into the soumyo’s heads? The orange-red on Prill’s neck grew brighter. Gama put a hand to the side of her face, to block out sight of those colors.
Du turned and looked a long moment at Reln, then faced the corenta-kin again. “Mahn and I have accepted the opportunity offered us by the sky-dwellers. We invite our sisters to join us, not only our sisters here in Reev, but from Kelroosh, and all corentas. Together, in a green meadow beyond the hills, we will build a new, stable corenta. We will make a fresh life, free from worry and want. We will find new opportunities, new ways of living, and new freedoms.”
Gama lowered her hand, looked at Prill and tried to find words, but none came. They had given in so easily — her sisters and brothers — to this idea: the stable corenta. That new place Du spoke of could never be a corenta. Movement was the essence of Reev, of Kelroosh, of all corentas. Whatever that new place would be, it couldn’t be called by the old name — it would need something new.
New ways of living, new freedoms, Du had said — as the lumani promised. Everything new and safe and wonderful — the lumani’s gifts. The kin ran to it like thirsty brez to a waterhole. Anything, Gama supposed, to stop the chaos, even if it meant convincing yourself that this new life was exactly what you wanted.
“Sisters,” Du said. “I invite all who wish to join us in the great adventure to stand.”
Prill pulled to her feet, almost kicking Gama in her haste. All through their half of the hall, females were standing, some quickly, though some with hesitation. Gama peered through the thicket of legs. Only three sisters remained seated, Iya, among them. Gama hoped there were more she couldn’t see in the crowded hall, or that some who stood now might change their minds, but judging from the colors alight on every throat, that didn’t seem likely. Her heart sank.
Du’s neck turned nearly white with satisfaction.
“Come, my sisters,” she said. “Let us go now and prepare for our departure. Speak to your dwellings. All who wish to join us, may. Tomorrow we set out from Reev to begin new and wondrous lives.”
The sisters headed toward the doors of Community Hall. They stroked each other’s brightly lit throats and walked with the sure steps of those confident in their choices.
Gama felt her own neck warm, her spots turning blue-red with anxiety. How could her sisters believe the lumani’s promises? Creatures that took their kin before their eyes couldn’t be trusted. Why didn’t the kin see that? Why didn’t Reln speak out? Warn them. Talk sense.
Why didn’t she?
Gama rubbed her hands across her thighs. Maybe she was wrong in her choice. She should join her sisters.
There was something false about the lumani — she felt it in her depths.
“Sisters!” Gama called, pulling herself to her feet. “Wait.”
Only a few heads turned to look in her direction.
Remember Frarm, and the soumyo of Trontin, Gama thought-talked to the room. Think of the chaos the lumani caused. Why would they now suddenly be concerned for us, our welfare? Don’t listen to their words. Listen to your heart.
Most of her sisters couldn’t have cared less what she’d said. They sent no thoughts back, didn’t even turn her way to look. One sister who hadn’t risen with the others stood now. Confusion colors were on her throat. She wanted to speak, Gama knew she did, but fear or indecision had stopped her. She sat again, then stood and moved toward Du and the others.
Vonti climbed onto the dais and waved his arms.
“Brothers,” he called out. “I, too, am accepting the lumani’s offer. They have shown me the future. Our males’ stable-corenta will be built alongside a wide river full of swimmers. We will dance and make music, our every need provided for. Who will come with me?”
Kis stood. “I will.” He made his way across the floor to stand below Vonti. Other males stood and followed.
Hest stood with them.
No, she thought-talked to him. Please, Hest. Don’t go with Vonti. Stay in Reev. Stay yourself.
I am myself, Hest sent back, the first words they’d had since he’d walked away from her and moved back into Home. I’ve considered it carefully. I’ve made the right choice. I wish you were male, Gama — we’d never be parted.
His thoughts were like a blow, driving the air from her lungs. She couldn’t gather breath to replace it.
From the back of Community Hall, Fel called out, “I stand with Reev. I’ll not leave my corenta for some vague promise. Who stands with me for Reev?”
A few males made their way through the crowd to Fel, a handful, no more. Gama saw Hest rub the bottom of his face, thinking.
Her heart leapt up. If Hest would stay —
She wanted to think-talk to him, to build a case, give him every reason why he should stay. She had arguments in mind and emotional pleas she could offer, but she stayed silent. It was his decision to make.
Hest stood a long moment, as still as a lone boulder in a meadow. Gama caught the movement of his eyes as his gaze slid toward her, and then away. He licked his lips and took a step, walking toward the dais, toward those who would leave Reev forever.
-=o=-
Gama tossed restlessly in the dark on the cot in Reln’s dwelling — Hest gone, Prill gone, not even Reln in his own dwelling. She thought-talked toward Reev’s guide, asked where he was, when he’d be returning. If he heard her — he must have heard her — he chose not to answer.
It seemed she’d barely fallen asleep when Reln’s dwelling woke her. The morning light was weak through the windows, as though the sun itself didn’t want this day to come.
We’ll be rising, the dwelling sent. Best get ready.
She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her fists. “Where are we going?” she said aloud, just to hear a spoken voice in this silent place.
Nowhere. Only rising, to let the structures out who wish to leave.
“The dwellings left yesterday with those who believe the lumani,” she said, her mind still foggy.
Other structures also wish to leave. Some are too large to fit through Wall’s gate. We will lift toward the sky. Those who wish to abandon us will go. You can stand at the door if you want to watch.
She heard the slight bang as the door swung open hard and hit the outside wall. Gama walked slowly down the hall and through the receiving room, in no hurry to see more of the desertion of Reev but needing to witness it. She held tight to the jamb as Reev shook itself free of the land and lifted into the air. Iya stood in a nearby doorway, watching too. She raised a hand to Gama in sad greeting. Gama gave her a small smil
e in return, glad that Iya had chosen to stay. At least she’d have one sister in Reev.
The structures were talking in their own speech, the wind-sound of their voices adding to the true wind passing by Gama’s ears as Reev slowly left the land behind, no different than any other time Reev had lifted off, except now she wasn’t secured behind a shut door and could see how the sky seemed to come closer as they rose. She heard the creaking of the structures and their voices blowing through Reev. Her stomach felt queasy.
She braced herself between the jambs, closed her eyes, and thought about the word Reln’s dwelling had used: abandon.
You’re sad, aren’t you?
Mourning. My friends are leaving. Structures that have been here as long as I have, or newer friends, built recently. When will I see them again? Maybe never.
She wished the dwelling had a throat, so she could stroke it. She rubbed the jamb, hoping the touch would bring it some comfort, and sent, Many of us are sad today.
Yes, the dwelling sent. I fear those that are happy now will find themselves sorrowful in a distant tomorrow.
Gama let out a sigh. And that by then it will be too late.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Reev had risen higher than the tallest structure and now hovered in the air. The thin soil crackled as the grains began to separate. Dust spiraled in the air. The dwelling across from where she stood slowly sank through the loosened soil, disappearing hand-span by hand-span from her sight, the way a drowned beast sinks beneath the water. It landed with a soft crash. A structure-shaped hole gaped wide where it had stood, the dark soil of the meadow visible beneath it. The hole lasted only moments. Then the soil moved and covered the emptiness.
When all the structures that wanted to leave had sunk away, Reev slowly moved sideways and then settled itself back onto the ground.
Females and males rushed from Community Hall and the communiteria, and from dwellings that had chosen to stay. It was only then she realized the departing structures had been empty of soumyo when they’d dropped through the soil. Vonti, Kis, and others pulled sleds with their belongings tied on securely. She stepped out to the path’s edge and watched them go.
Gama and Hest: An Ahsenthe Cycle companion novella (The Ahsenthe Cycle) Page 10