by Pearl North
Haly stopped reading.
“The animals,” said Burke. “Is this the origin of the Seven Tales?”
“Are these the People Who Walk Sideways in Time?” said Gyneth.
“Where is Hilloa?” said Burke. “She’ll want to hear this.”
“I don’t know,” said Gyneth. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”
A little tendril of unease wound its way through Haly’s stomach. As she and the others searched for Hilloa, then Baris and Jan, the feeling intensified. By that evening, it was clear that the three of them were gone.
* * *
“They’ve gone to Ilysies,” said Haly, certain of it. She was with Gyneth in the room they shared. It was late, but she couldn’t sleep. She paced instead.
“In all likelihood,” he admitted.
“They’re going to get themselves killed.”
“Maybe, but maybe Vorain will catch up with them in time.” The former Ilysian soldier had volunteered to take a team and try to intercept them.
“They had a pretty solid head start. We may have just sent Vorain and the others into peril as well, for nothing. This is my fault. I should have paid more attention when Hilloa, Baris, and Jan came to talk to me.”
“You can’t blame yourself for everything, Haly,” said Gyneth. He sounded tired.
Haly was tired, too, exhausted with responsibility. It was just earlier today that she’d lost it in the stacks while laying Palla’s bones to rest. And now … another problem, and she was somehow supposed to think of a solution, but she was completely out of ideas, and worse, out of the capacity to withstand another crisis.
They all thought it was easy for her. That just because the Song was inside her meant accessing it wasn’t a conscious act. In the first place, she had to remember it was there, and it was shockingly easy to forget when faced with catastrophe. And she had to focus on her breath and calm her mind. Otherwise, she could be just as panicky as anyone else. It was work and yes, there were times when she didn’t feel like making that effort. Sometimes she wanted to be weak. But everyone was depending on her, so instead she breathed.
Gyneth stood, and came to her. She leaned against his chest and let him put his arms around her, tucking her nose in his armpit. She’d read somewhere that male body odor made heterosexual females feel better. It was true. She held on tight, and she breathed.
“You can keep a secret, right?”
He pulled back and gave her a puzzled look. “You know that.”
“Yeah. Here’s the thing.” Haly leaned against him. Somehow, she felt like she’d be overheard. Maybe it was just that once she spoke these words aloud, they’d become real. She hesitated.
“What?” said Gyneth. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”
The urge to tell was just too strong. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
Gyneth paled and he stepped back. “You mean…?”
Oh, no. “No. Not that. Not us.” She held up her hands. “I mean I don’t think I can be the leader of the Libyrinth anymore. I’m terrible at it.”
Gyneth seemed relieved. But then he shook his head. “You’re mistaken. You’re only seventeen but you’re a wonderful leader. You’re doing a great job! Why would you—”
“We almost starved to death, Gyneth.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it? Isn’t everything that happens here my responsibility?”
Gyneth narrowed his brows. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
Haly was past listening. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t think I can take it anymore. The pressure…”
“Yeah.” Gyneth came and drew her into his arms. “Okay. It must be a lot, I know. For someone who says she doesn’t know what she’s doing you’ve accomplished amazing things, but I can understand why you feel this way.”
* * *
The next morning, Haly went to the infirmary to talk to Burke.
The Libyrinth’s healer was at her worktable, grinding accar leaves.
“I think we need to revisit the question of who should lead the community,” Haly said, sitting down beside her.
Burke raised her eyebrows. “But Haly, you’re our Redeemer.”
Haly shrugged. “So what? What does that even mean, day to day? So I had a big part to play in bringing about the Redemption. Just a part now, mind you. Other people were just as indispensable, which is something everyone seems to forget. Anyway. The Redemption happened, and now it’s over. So what makes me qualified to lead this community? And should we even have one single leader, anyway? Shouldn’t we have some sort of representational government? I just don’t think we thought any of this through.”
Burke waited until Haly was finished. “Okay, first of all, you are qualified, because you hear the Song inside you all the time. It does make a difference.”
“Just think what a disaster I’d be without it,” countered Haly.
Burke gave her a look. “Second, no one has a window into the future. You and all of us had our hands full getting the community organized and running. It is regrettable that we didn’t reach out to the citadel sooner, but hardly surprising, or negligent, that we did not.”
Haly opened her mouth to protest but Burke held out a hand. “And third, you are seventeen years old and I am sorry that I did not see what an unfair burden sole leadership of the community is to you. Of course you don’t have to do this all by yourself.”
Haly blinked at her. She had been braced for more argument and now, suddenly, she felt as if a great space had opened up before her, filled with possibilities.
5
The Confidence of the Queen
Apart from missing his friends, Po found that the worst part about being Queen Thela’s consort was the boredom. Except for when he was entertaining Thela, he was alone. He had his own chamber, with couches, bathing pool, desk, and bower. A sumptuous room—though not overlarge—it had everything he needed. There was even an adjoining, private exercise yard.
His meals were brought to him. He had no reason to leave, and was, in fact, not permitted to, by custom. Other than Thela’s visits, there was little to divert him from worrying about the Libyrinth, about getting caught, about what Thela might do with the pen if he failed.
At least now he was recovered enough to walk about. He pulled aside the sheer white curtain that veiled the archway and ventured out into his exercise yard. It was twenty feet square and open to the sun above. Lush grass cushioned his feet and tickled his nose with a rich, earthy smell. The whitewashed wall surrounding the tidy lawn was solid up to shoulder height, and above that, bricks with a latticework pattern in the shape of a four-petaled rose continued upward several feet. Through the spaces he could see the ocean, and on either side, other exercise yards nearly identical to his own.
He watched the waves rolling in from the vast blue sea that stretched out to the horizon. He remembered his first sight of the Corvariate Citadel, and how for a moment he’d mistaken its distant gray bulk for the ocean. How unhappy he’d thought he was at that time—framed by Thela for the fire that destroyed the Libyrinth’s crops. Haly had sent him to the citadel with the Chorus of the Word in order to protect him, but it had felt like exile.
Those problems seemed small and manageable in comparison to what he faced now. That heartbreak, humiliation, and guilt seemed self-indulgent, a luxury. He envied his former self.
Scattered about in the grass were weighted spheres for exercise and balance. Just because he was confined did not mean he could let his body go to seed. He was expected to stay attractive for his queen. Po picked up one of the smaller spheres, made of polished granite, pink threaded through with green, and hefted it. At first his body protested, but soon disused muscles remembered the pleasure of work.
Po discovered that the physical exercise actually helped him feel better. Much of his exhaustion was due to the kinesiology he’d performed. Using his body seemed to counterbalance all the inner energy he’d e
xpended. He did several sets of exercises, then lay in the grass in the sun and napped.
“Po, what are you doing out here?”
It was Queen Thela. Po opened his eyes to find himself still lying in the grass in the yard. The sun had gone down beyond the roof of the palace and he lay in shadow. The grass had collected the evening dew and become cool and damp, making his muscles stiff. “Your Majesty, I fell asleep.”
“Tsk. Such a male. Come in now, you’ll catch cold.”
Po obeyed her.
Thela rang for a servant and ordered a hot bath drawn. “I need it as much as you do,” she said. “The day I’ve had. I’ve never been able to understand how people expect to simultaneously pursue a policy of isolationism and maintain Ilysies’s status as the most powerful nation on the continent. It makes no sense.”
She disrobed and sank into the hot water with a sigh. Po sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her shoulders.
“Mmm.” She dropped her head back. “Plata thinks she can turn recent events to her advantage. She’s courting Jolaz, who she perceives as less expansionist than myself. Carys whispers of a challenge, but I don’t see it. There’s a reason I didn’t deflect criticism of the Redemption debacle onto my heir. I could have made it out to be her fault and replaced her, but Jolaz is loyal to a fault, steady, and sensible. She’d much rather wait for a natural succession than deal with the controversy of a challenge.
“It’s more likely that Carys hopes to sow suspicion between us and take Jolaz’s place for herself. Then I’d be facing a challenge for certain. Carys fancies herself clever, but there’s clever and then there’s too clever. Perhaps I should find something urgent for her to attend to in eastern Shenash.”
Challenge. Not every heir took the throne when the old queen died or retired. Some did not wish to wait that long. Though rare, it was accepted custom that an heir who felt that the current queen presented a danger to Ilysian sovereignty could challenge her mentor. By tradition they met in the ring with knives, but there were exceptions to that practice as well.
Po thought of the robe floating in the water in the partially submerged temple in Thela’s heart center. Everyone had loved the old queen, Mata Tadamos. She’d been Ilysies’s ruler for thirty years before she named her daughter heir, and she probably could have reigned for another thirty if not for the sudden illness that forced her into retirement. No one saw her after that, and months later she’d been reported dead. Had she lived out her reign, Thela would have been in her seventies before the crown became hers. There’d always been a lot of idle speculation about the old queen’s demise. A popular palace rumor was that Thela had simply walled her mother up in her bedchamber and assumed the throne.
Po looked at Thela, who lay with her head tilted back, her eyes half-closed. He knew firsthand she was capable of terrible things. And yet she trusted Jolaz. What would happen if Thela’s rule really were threatened?
She’d use the pen to defend herself. He had no doubt of that.
“They forget that a year ago the Singers were on the threshold of taking over everything. Now, our old rival, Thesia, is humbled and the Singers are no more.”
“Mmm.”
“All under your reign, Your Majesty.”
Thela opened her eyes and looked up at him. Had he said too much? But he was incapable of any outward action that displeased her, wasn’t he?
“You make an excellent point, Po. I will have to remind my critics of it. Come, leave off massaging me. Get in here, you’re cold.”
Po slid into the warm water and Thela’s arms. His concerns about not having enough opportunities to reinforce his kinesthetic manipulations had been entirely unfounded.
“You are not like other males,” said Thela.
Po returned her smile. “I hope that pleases you.”
“It does,” she said, surprise adding a lilt to her words. “I find I like having a consort I can talk with about other things besides pleasure. It’s nice to be able to share with you what has transpired in my day. And I like hearing about your experiences with Endymion.
“I’m not used to a male having experiences beyond my own, but I find it doesn’t bother me. It makes you more interesting. And you are helping me to understand the pen better.”
He ran his hand up and down her arm. She liked that. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “The pen frightens me,” he said, in all honesty.
“Mmm. Me too,” she said. “And it should frighten us. Anything that powerful can’t help but be dangerous. But don’t worry. I won’t use it until I understand it, and can control its effects.”
“Is that possible?” Po cursed himself. He’d spoken the thought aloud, and he hadn’t meant to.
“Of course it’s possible. Don’t be too overawed, Po. Just like all the other devices of the Ancients, the pen is a tool. It can be mastered.”
That was what Po was afraid of. But all he could do was smile and say, “I know you’ll do what’s best.”
* * *
The next morning when he ventured outside to work off the muzziness of sleep, there was someone in the yard next to his, a young man who looked a few years older than him. Hoping not to be noticed, Po observed him as he did push-ups. He wore the tight-fitting pants of a bull dancer, and his upper body was bare. He was slender and sinewy, with coal-black hair and a prominent, aquiline nose. He was a perfect specimen of manly Ilysian beauty. Po, with his brown hair and his snub nose, could never hope to compete with a male like that.
Why did Thela keep Po around? The only reasons he could think of were that she valued his kinesthetic abilities, thought he had useful information from his time with Endymion, or she genuinely liked him.
The other male noticed Po and shot him a fierce grin full of menace. He came to the dividing wall. “You may be her favorite now,” he said, “but she’ll soon tire of you.”
Po didn’t answer him. Everyone knew the queen had more than one consort, though such a thing was unheard of anyplace but in the palace. Ordinarily, rivals for a woman’s attention would fight. Sometimes these battles were spontaneous and sometimes they were planned in advance and the woman, her friends, and family members attended as spectators. How were such rivalries handled here?
Since he didn’t know, Po decided the best thing to do was nothing at all. Still, he didn’t turn his back on the male as he bent and picked up a sphere and began his workout.
The other male put on a display of physical prowess. He did handstands and backflips, even did leg presses while balancing on his hands. Of course, he was a bull dancer. Traditionally, the queen selected her consorts from among the bull dancers.
Po was amused to realize he felt no need to compete with the other consort. He thought of his fights with Baris, and of this male’s competitive show. Both seemed equally ridiculous to him now.
* * *
“… And my hands became wings and flew away with the sphere. When I came out of my trance, Endymion was gone,” said Po.
Thela leaned forward, her face eager. They’d just made love, and Po had taken the opportunity to reinforce his energy work, preventing her from using the pen. Now they reclined in bed, and the conversation had turned to Po’s experiences with Endymion.
“But what about your hands?” said Thela.
Po lifted them and flexed his fingers. “As you can see, they were unharmed.”
Thela narrowed her eyes in thought. “I must consult with Ymin about that. It seems to me there should be some effect.”
He had to agree, but he’d rather simply be grateful to have escaped unharmed.
“What happened to her?” asked Thela.
“I don’t know,” said Po. “Before the trance, she kept saying she wanted to go and be with her friends—the other Ancients.”
“Who are all dead,” said Thela.
Po shrugged. “What does that really mean for people like that? I mean they’re—the Ayorites say they are descended from the People Who Walk Sideways in Time.”
He nodded.
“The People Who Walk Sideways in Time … that means they can travel in time, or that they transcend time? I suppose it amounts to the same thing. What do you think, Po? Do you think they created the world, or did it emerge from the ocean, as our tradition says?”
Po was nervous at first, until he realized that he was protected from displeasing her by what she had written of him with the pen. “Well, I think the world came out of the ocean, as is said, but … where did the ocean come from? When she showed me how an Egg is made, she said it was her and her friends’ parents who did that. So, yes, I do believe that the People Who Walk Sideways in Time made our world.”
Despite his earlier confidence, Po held his breath, waiting for her response. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the canopy of gauze above the bed. “So what do you think happens to us when we die?”
Po was so surprised that for a moment he couldn’t speak. When he recovered, he didn’t know what to say.
“Do we become like those people, living outside of time, or is it just … nothing? Or is it as some of the Old Earth books say, and we are punished for what we’ve done wrong, burning for all eternity?” She turned again and stared at him, waiting expectantly. There was an intensity in her gaze that he could not fathom. This was more than idle curiosity on her part.
His words were not his own. They came from someplace outside himself. “I think we drift off, as in a pleasant dream. We go on for all eternity, but it is for us but an hour—an hour of complete happiness. There is no suffering, and no punishment.”
“Mmm,” she said, and drew him closer. “I like that.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and her breathing deepened. Po lay listening to her, and thinking of a robe floating in the water.
* * *
“Did you have a happy childhood, Po?” asked Thela.
Po blinked in surprise. He considered the question. “Yes, I guess I did. I had to put up with some teasing from my cousins, and they were girls so I couldn’t do anything about it, but … other than that, it was nice. I was too young to realize there was anything different about my appearance and it was too soon for the rest of the family to be concerned about it. Life was quiet, uneventful. We had the land and the village. It was good.” Something prompted him to ask, “What about you?”