“Prepare to launch,” a voice said over the shuttle's comm. The dock was opening above them; the shuttle began to rise on its lift toward the Platform's surface. On the screen, he saw the vessel resting inside a circle of light.
Malik's hands dug into his armrests. A weight suddenly pressed him against his seat as the Platform fell away. He glimpsed the glow of an Island dome before everything was lost in the darkness.
He struggled for breath. At last the pressure eased, and then he floated up against his harness as the ship fell into orbit. The screen revealed only a black expanse; Venus was hidden. Voices murmured over the comm. A curving band of light shimmered at the edge of the Parasol, then blossomed as the vessel emerged from the umbrella's vast shadow and was caught in the light of the sun.
“Respond.” The voice over the comm sounded urgent. “Can you hear me? Do you have a malfunction? Can any of you hear me? Please respond. My screen shows that your orbital path—”
The comm was silent. The southern Bat was now visible. Its winged panels gleamed with sunlight; the tiers of the satellite's docks were a jeweled latticework twinkling in the shadow cast by the Parasol. An aurora's colorful curtains of light danced below the Bat.
Malik gazed one last time at the planet below and thought of Sigurd, who had chosen not to escape, who was now trapped in the darkness. The shuttle hurled itself out of orbit toward the nearest Habitat.
* * * *
Sigurd waited in his room. His Link was silent, as it had been for the past few days, ever since the four shuttles and their pilots had returned to Anwara from the Hab. The Project Council had demanded his resignation as Liaison, and had appointed Alim ibn-Sharif in his place. He had expected it.
He had not expected the silence. Every channel was closed to him; his Link opened only when there was a message for him, and there had been few such messages lately. The Project Council had not told him what would become of him now; perhaps they would leave that to Alim and his allies.
He might have escaped whatever lay in store for him. He had thought that by staying behind, he might still have some power to influence events, that he would be showing others he had not given up his hopes. Even some of Ishtar's own believers were beginning to see that the absence of the Habbers made the future more uncertain; those nearest the Guide were trying to tighten their grip too quickly. Sigurd had imagined that in time the Project would turn to him again.
He thought of Pavel Gvishiani, as he had so often lately. Perhaps the most he could hope for was to be honored after his death, as Pavel had been, when people would realize that he had tried to preserve his world. Maybe he would not even have that; the minions of Ishtar might erase his memory. The Mukhtars would be tempted to exert more authority over Venus now, but wiser heads might prevail, allowing Ishtar's inner circles to consolidate their power before Earth reasserted itself here. Perhaps they would let Chimene Liang-Haddad believe she had won before she was forced to bow to Earth, as she eventually would if the Project were to continue. By then, there might be no one left to object to Earth's rule, especially if the Mukhtars wielded their power subtly and granted some concessions to the Guide.
He no longer believed what Tesia had told him. The Habbers would never return.
His door chimed. Sigurd knew who was waiting outside even before his visitors were announced. The airship carrying Chimene to Island Two would have arrived by now, and he was sure Alim had met her.
“Chimene Liang-Haddad,” the door announced. “Alim ibn-Sharif. Boaz Huerta. Eva Danas. Matthew—”
“Let them all enter,” Sigurd muttered, cutting off the voice. The damned woman must have brought her whole household to confront him here.
The door opened. Alim, wearing his formal white robe and headdress, ushered the group inside, then settled his plump body on a cushion. Eva Danas and Yusef Deniz sat down behind Alim as Chimene entered with Boaz Huerta and Matthew Innes. Sigurd caught a glimpse of one of Alim's aides and two sashed men carrying wands before the door closed.
“Salaam,” Sigurd said. Boaz and Matthew seated themselves; Chimene continued to stand. Her arms were folded, her fingers claws digging into the sleeves of her red tunic. “You honor me with this visit. I didn't expect to have the pleasure of greeting all these others in your household as well.”
“My other housemates were sorry they couldn't come,” she replied. “They knew we weren't coming here to honor you. They wanted me to tell you how deeply they regret not being able to see you now.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “You're wearing your formal robe.”
“In your honor.”
“You no longer have the right to wear it.”
“This is the robe of a Linker.” The wretched woman probably could not tell the difference. “As you can see, the material isn't quite as fine. I've set aside my Administrator's robe until I discover what God has ordained for me.” So he would no longer be an Administrator; that was hardly a surprise.
“The Guide is saying,” Alim murmured, “that you are no longer entitled to wear that robe. Your Link has been closed, Sigurd. A physician will soon be summoned to remove it.”
Sigurd drew in his breath. “That hardly seems wise, when we've lost a number of Linkers already.”
“Some have proven themselves unworthy of that position,” Alim responded, “not only those who betrayed us by fleeing to that Hab but also several who have remained behind. A couple of them have already been brought to admit that they knew what the Habbers were planning and didn't tell us of that. They were foolish to think they could keep that secret. It's pitiable how they ask for forgiveness because they chose not to go. Others will lose their Links—those who were too close to the Habbers and the ones who were loyal to you.”
Sigurd leaned forward. “You're mad. That's not going to serve the Project.”
“The Project is best served by Linkers whose loyalty is unquestioned. People can be trained to replace the others, and in the meantime—”
“You're not fit to be Liaison,” Sigurd said. “You're going to create more enemies than you have now. The Project Council—”
“—is not objecting,” Alim finished. “They are leaving such matters to me and the Administrators here.” He touched his forehead as he nodded toward Chimene. “And the Guide is generously offering to consult with me.”
“What a fine prospect,” Sigurd said. “I think you could manage enough mistakes in judgment on your own.”
“You cursed man.” Chimene took a step forward. “I'm finding it very hard to feel any love for you now. You knew what the Habbers were planning—you had to know. That woman of yours would have told you. You knew and you let them go.”
“I knew nothing.” He no longer expected anyone to believe that.
“Oh, you knew. I should have seen something was going on when I heard you were going to allow them all to travel to Anwara together—such compassion is uncharacteristic of you. You wanted to hurt the Project—that's why you let them go.”
Sigurd's lip curled. “I'm surprised you feel that way, Chimene. You've only lost people who've shown they weren't that devoted to the Project anyway.”
“You wanted to wound me!” Her voice had risen; her face was flushed with rage. “My father was with them! You made it possible for my own father to join them! They played on his weakness—they lured him to their beds for whatever perversions they practice, and then they stole him from me! How can I ever forgive you for that?”
He looked away, thinking of the little girl who had once dwelled on this Island, the one who often seemed to be searching her father's face for a sign of his love. Malik had cared for her once; perhaps he had cared too much. He had been wounded all the more when Chimene had dashed his hopes for her by joining herself to Ishtar. She had lost his love and would never have it again.
“But I must forgive you,” she went on more calmly. “You've been so misled by the Habbers that you may not have comprehended what you did. You will be brought to repent of your actions, and maybe then
you'll glimpse the truth. Maybe then I can come to love you as the Spirit demands. I'll try to believe that something good inside you made you stay behind.”
“I made my share of mistakes. I felt it was appropriate to pay for them. You may have more sympathy for me should you ever have to pay for your own.”
“You'll pay,” she said. “You'll lose your precious Link, and we'll find ways for you to aid the Project.”
Boaz got to his feet and went to her side. “You shouldn't have had to endure this,” he said softly as he took her arm. “Your father may already be regretting what he did, what this man allowed him to do. But our world is rid of the Habbers and belongs to Ishtar now.” He turned back to Sigurd. “Eva and Yusef will be returning to our household in a few days, but the Guide will remain here somewhat longer, with her brother Matthew and me. These quarters look comfortable enough for us. One should never grow attached to possessions, but you'll be allowed to take whatever items you can carry in a pack.”
“And where will I go?” Sigurd asked.
“I think the former Habber residence here would be suitable, at least for the time being. You'll be able to recuperate from the loss of your Link there, and you probably won't be alone for long—others whose loyalty is doubtful should be joining you. You'll have time to think about the so-called friends who were willing to abandon you and who could not stand against us. You will have time to hear of Ishtar.” Boaz bowed a little toward Alim. “That is, if our new Liaison with the Project Council has no objection.”
“Of course not,” Alim murmured.
“You may gather your things now,” Boaz said. “We'll be with Administrator Alim in his quarters. Two members of the patrol will be here to assist you.”
The others stood up. As they left the room, two men with wands entered and took places on either side of the door. Sigurd gazed at them absently. What a pointless gesture he had made; how mistaken he had been to assume that even Alim would not allow Sigurd to be disgraced so completely.
“Get your things,” one of the men said. Sigurd stood up slowly and took off his robe.
* * * *
Chimene released Alim's arm as they neared a small flight of steps. The Administrator had asked her to walk with him, but he was already panting a little; he wiped at his round face with the edge of his headdress. She had been a little surprised at the invitation; at dinner, she had noticed, he seemed more interested in talking to Matthew and Boaz.
Her housemates had not accompanied them here; they were trailed only by two female members of the patrol. She climbed the steps toward the curved platform that circled Island Two; Alim wheezed a little as he followed. During dinner she had feared that the man might show a more intense interest in her, but his food had preoccupied him then, and the walk had clearly drained more of his energy. She felt relieved; it would not be necessary to discourage his attentions. She had to work with him, but as long as he was not her brother in Ishtar, she did not have to share more of herself with him.
The women on patrol waited at the bottom of the steps. Alim leaned against the railing with a sigh. “A new era,” he said somewhat breathlessly. “Even if I can't share your faith, our goals are the same. You do understand—I've always tried to be tolerant of the beliefs of others. Many roads can lead to what is right, and God's will governs us all.”
“The Spirit seems willing to work through you. She asks only that others be open to the truth. I can pray that you may come to accept it.”
She curled her fingers around the railing. The dome overhead was dark, with a pale silvery disk at its center. She and her housemates had dined with Alim at a table near the path outside the ziggurat, in full view of the passers-by; she had walked with him here to the edge of the Island past people sitting outside their residences. She had recognized a few old schoolmates, people who had once called her a grubber, who had sneered while saying that she did not belong in their school, that she was there only because her father was a favorite of Sigurd's. She had enjoyed letting them see her on such friendly terms with Alim; maybe they now regretted their mockery. But such thoughts were unworthy. Some of those people now wore the sash; even those who were not her brothers and sisters would have to honor her now. She could bring herself to love them, since they would see how mistaken they had been.
Perhaps they were whispering about her father, who had fled from her. Chimene's hands tightened on the railing; she had to put aside thoughts of Malik's treachery. He had been only another obstacle in recent years, with his infrequent sardonic messages that upset her and caused her to doubt herself. He would be sorry when he was living among Habbers and saw how easily he had been misled. The Habbers had deliberately enticed him in an effort to strike back at her; that probably showed how much they feared her. Did they expect her to lash at herself in agony because her enemies had taken her father? She would prove herself stronger than that.
Alim dabbed at his damp face with a sleeve of his formal robe. “Our walk seems to have tired you,” Chimene said. “Perhaps I should have refused your kind offer to walk with me.”
“Oh, no, my dear. I should keep myself more fit and stronger for my new responsibilities.”
“Maybe you need a metabolic adjustment.”
“I've had a couple. I only end up eating more, and I'm also too much in the habit of using carts. Any more metabolic tampering, and I'd turn into a wisp if we ever had food shortages. No, I simply must discipline myself—more walking and less food.” He looked mournful at the prospect. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to you alone.”
She felt a qualm. “Oh?”
“I felt you might need some reassurance,” he said. “You didn't seem happy with some of what Boaz and Matthew said at dinner.”
“My brothers are wise, but I also worry that they dismiss possible difficulties too easily. We are embarking on a new era, but I still fear what Earth may do. I wouldn't want the Mukhtars to think that with the Habbers gone, they can have a freer hand here. It's true that we have less to fear from Earth than from Habbers, but surely Earth is better served by allowing us more control of our own affairs. Boaz often seems indifferent to the Mukhtars’ possible reactions.”
“That's exactly what I wanted to reassure you about,” the Administrator responded. “I know how to deal with Earth. As long as I'm Liaison, you needn't concern yourself with the Mukhtars. Leave the Project Council and the Mukhtars to me. I can grant them enough small concessions to keep them from wanting larger ones, and none of it will affect us in the least. In fact, I had a message from the Project Council today.”
Chimene raised her brows. “You didn't mention it at dinner.”
“I wanted you to hear about it first. The Mukhtars are gratified that the Habbers are gone, and they're not about to offend the Guide who made that possible. They'll aid us in whatever way they can, and all they'll ask is that we go on with our service to the Project. They're aware of your great love for your people and the love they bear you. They have no desire to interfere with anything that can only further the progress of the Project.”
She smiled a little.
“The Mukhtars were upset by Sigurd's recent actions,” he continued, “but he will be punished, and the Project is now on its proper course. What he did only shows how far he forgot his duty, and his fate will be an example to others. The Mukhtars may choose to believe that I have their interests at heart, but you and I know that we both serve Venus in the end. I'll intercede for you, and you and your followers will have a free hand here.”
“Only so that others can be brought to our way.”
Alim placed a hand over his heart. “I'm moved by the love I see for you in the eyes of those closest to you. It only makes me admire you more, that you can elicit such devotion. I can even—may God forgive me—feel a little envious. All of us will serve you. Even I, who am not your brother in Ishtar, only want to share the burden you bear as the Guide.” He was silent for a moment. “Someday, you may even meet the Mukhtars as an equal, as the ruler
of our world.”
“I'm only the Guide,” she said, “not a ruler.”
“But you must guide your people. That may require acting as a ruler would, but only to bring the society you want closer. Won't you help your people more by accepting any power that's given to you? You can set it aside when your goals are achieved. I've spoken highly of you to the Project Council. Word of that should reach the Mukhtars in one of the Council's reports.”
She turned toward the dome wall just beyond the railing. Her world was below, hidden by the dark and turbulent clouds. Centuries of effort had made it possible for people to live here, and now their fate was in her hands. Could she turn away now and say that a Guide's duty was only to persuade and set an example but not to rule? She had accepted other necessary evils to further Ishtar's aims and had accomplished more than Kichi had envisioned.
I am Ishtar, she thought; I carry the dreams of all my people. I could not have won this much unless the Spirit had guided me and had spoken to me with the voices of those around me. With every step along this path, more obstacles to the truth have vanished. The Spirit is with me. Even Earth's Mukhtars will see that now, and all they understand is power—seeking it and keeping it. They have to see me as one with the power to stand against them, and when we are stronger, I can share my power with all of my sisters and brothers. Perhaps I must rule now, as the Spirit rules me...
Twenty-seven
Three members of the patrol were walking past Risa's house when she came outside. One man lifted a wand in greeting; Risa forced herself to smile as she waved back.
Theron was sitting under a tree with Yakov Serba; she went toward the two men. Risa had been careful to alert the patrol that some other friends and neighbors would be gathering there tonight and that they needn't trouble themselves about any visitors who left her home late. Just a small party, she had told them, while Irina Burian was visiting with her son from ibn-Qurrah. She had even invited Andrew Dinel, although he and his bondmate Grete had stayed only long enough to greet Irina and share a drink with her and Nikolai. It did not matter; Andrew's respectable presence, however brief, had probably also reassured the patrol.
Venus of Shadows Page 53