Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  She sat down next to Yakov. Theron held out his cup of whiskey; she shook her head.

  “I had a message from Dyami yesterday,” she said. “In his customary roundabout way, he let me know that the people in Turing would support us in whatever we do.” Lately, she preferred to discuss such matters outside. She could not escape the feeling, irrational though it might be, that otherwise someone might be listening in to whatever she said. She inspected her house often, searching for any small eavesdropping devices a visitor might have planted, but she had not yet found anything. She used only private channels to speak to her son but remained cautious in what she said, as he did.

  “I expected they'd feel that way,” Yakov murmured. “Unfortunately, there's not much any of us can do.”

  “I've been hearing more complaints lately,” Theron said, “about the patrol, about the months the Guide has spent on Island Two.”

  Risa had heard similar complaints. The patrol had grown more heavy-handed, even restricting the movements of people they distrusted. There was some divisiveness within the patrol's ranks; the volunteers were beginning to resent the permanent members, who seemed to think all decisions should rest with them. Other people worried about the specialists and Linkers the Project had lost—those who had fled with the Habbers and those who had been detained and deprived of their Links. Even among the pilots, who as a group had always been strongest in their devotion to Ishtar, there was muttering about the Guide who might have forgotten her duty to the fellowship and who spent more time with Administrators than with her brethren. All of this free-floating discontent might be useful to Risa and those who felt as she did, if they could find a way to harness it.

  But they had not. The domes on which their lives depended had to be maintained, and this required their cooperation, regardless of their feelings. Some had spoken of trying to poison food taken to the Guide's household or of using more discontented members of the patrol against those they resented, but such actions could also bring reprisals that might destroy any chance for change. A few wilder ideas had also been entertained—refusing to work, threatening one settlement or more with destruction if Ishtar and the Administrators did not give in to certain demands, even seizing the Platform. Risa had done her best to put a stop to such speculation; it was not likely that they could succeed, and such attempts would give the cult more excuses to tighten their control. Even if they could succeed, she was not about to encourage anything that could only threaten the world they hoped to save.

  “Irina says things are a little worse in ibn-Qurrah,” Risa said.

  “So I've heard,” Yakov responded. “More people are being asked for larger voluntary contributions.”

  “Contributions!” Risa cursed under her breath. “It's a good thing Andy so kindly brought us two bottles of whiskey—otherwise, I doubt there would have been enough for all our guests.”

  “We have to hope things do get worse, you know,” Yakov continued. “That would mean more people would be likely to side with us.”

  The engineer, unfortunately, was right. If things got worse, they would have a chance to make them better. They could not possibly succeed against Chimene and her inner circle unless more of the settlers, including members of the cult, came over to their side.

  The door to the house opened. Carlos Tokugawa walked down the path, carrying his small son; his daughter clung to his other hand. Lena Kerein followed her bondmate and children outside. “Thanks for the hospitality,” Carlos said as he passed. “Nice seeing Irina again.”

  “Going so soon?” Risa asked.

  “Carlos wants to take the children home,” Lena said, “but I'll stay for a bit.” She kissed Carlos, then settled herself in front of the globe of light next to Risa.

  Risa eyed the younger woman warily; she had never been sure of how much she could trust Lena. “It's too bad Chimene couldn't be here to see Irina,” Lena went on, “but I suppose she's getting too grand to bother about a little get-together like this.”

  There, Risa supposed, was the source of some of Lena's discontent. Chimene did not often see her old friend, and lately their exchanges had been limited to an occasional message.

  “It might be just as well,” Risa said. “Chimene and Irina were never especially close.”

  “Still—” Lena gestured with an arm. “It's those people around Chimene. I can't tell you how many times I've called or gone to her house, only to have Matthew or Eva or that old man Lang tell me that she's too busy to see me. She listens to them too much, especially Boaz.”

  Risa pursed her lips. “You're speaking of the prospective father of my grandchild—that is, if my daughter ever finds the time in her busy schedule to give birth.”

  “Too bad for you. Frankly, I never liked Boaz. Oh, he probably serves well enough as a bed-partner, but I think he lost sight of our ideals long ago—sharing goes one way with him. If Chimene didn't love him so much, she'd see what he is fast enough, but she's the Guide, and she probably can't believe that anyone so close to her might give her bad advice.” Lena's mouth twisted. “Let's hope the Spirit opens her eyes soon and brings her back to the right path.”

  Lena might believe that Chimene had only been misled by her companions; Risa was not sure that she shared that belief. It would have been easier if she could, if she could hope that some sort of reconciliation might be possible.

  “I think she made a terrible mistake in calling that referendum,” Lena continued.

  “Our dome Councils were responsible for that,” Theron said.

  “But we all know they would have sought the Guide's advice or Boaz's, which amounts to the same thing nowadays. She might have used her influence to postpone it or to point out what a bad idea it was.”

  “You didn't seem to think,” Risa said, “that expelling the Habbers was a bad idea at the time.” She knew how Lena and her household had voted then.

  “Maybe I've changed my mind.” Lena brushed at a loose strand of brown hair. “This wasn't the time to get rid of them, not when we still need their help. We could have been building more settlements in the Freyja Mountains by now, and it's not going to be easy to do that alone. People may wonder about the wisdom of their votes when they're told there's no room to build new houses or that there'll be even more restrictions on the number of children they have. A couple of my friends—fervent believers, I assure you—are even saying that things were better when the Habbers were here and Sigurd Kristens-Vitos was the Liaison.”

  Risa frowned. She had heard no news of Sigurd since his disgrace. Maybe he was regretting that he hadn't fled with the Habbers; perhaps he was no longer alive. She wondered if Chimene and those around her were capable of ridding themselves of Sigurd once and for all.

  “You're certainly being blunt,” Theron said.

  “I wouldn't talk this way to just anyone,” Lena replied. “But I don't think any of you will think unkindly of my words.” Theron stared at her blandly; Yakov was trying to look unconcerned. “I'm even more worried after the message I got from Chimene earlier.”

  “Oh?” Risa arched her brows.

  “She does still occasionally send off a few words, usually when she's got something to brag about. It wasn't anything specific this time, just hints about the Mukhtars taking a greater interest in our affairs and consulting with the Project Council about how to proceed. She seems to think this growing interest is a sign that even the Mukhtars are willing to work with her—and Administrator Alim, of course—out of gratitude for the fact that the Habbers are gone. Well, when Earth starts getting more interested in us, I begin to worry.”

  “I expected that they would,” Yakov said. “We will be more dependent on them now, but since Earth doesn't have to worry about Habbers trying to subvert us any more, chances are—”

  “You hope,” Lena said. “Anyway, I thought you might be interested in what she told me, vague as it was.” She stood up. “I'd better get home. Do tell Sef I thought his berry wine was delicious.”

 
Risa was silent until Lena was out of earshot, then said, “I wonder why Lena dropped that tidbit our way.”

  “Maybe she suspects that we'd all like to do more than complain,” Theron answered. “It might be her way of saying that she's with us. If she spreads news of that message around, it could sow doubt about what Earth's intentions are, and that could help us.”

  “Do you think she can be trusted?” Yakov asked. “You know the woman better than I do.”

  “She's an old friend of Chimene's,” Risa said. “Her faith in Ishtar isn't a fanatic's, but she admires its ideals. Lena probably believes that if she went and had a stem talk with her old schoolmate, Chimene would suddenly see reason.”

  “Well.” Yakov sipped from his cup. “We certainly wouldn't want her betraying any of our plans in an effort to convince the Guide to mend her ways.”

  “Our plans.” Risa shook her head. “Even if we came up with some, they won't mean much if Earth decides to reclaim the Project entirely. Almost everyone would be on our side then, but it would be too late.” Their dream of a new world would die, one where people might reach for more instead of clinging to what they had. They would become only another Nomarchy used to display the power of the Mukhtars while Ishtar filled their minds with illusions. Earth's stagnant, dying culture would strangle them.

  Risa got to her feet slowly. “I must go inside,” she said, “and be more hospitable to our guests.” She turned toward the house. Was she nearly sixty already? Once, she would have found that unbelievable; now, she felt even older, weighed down by her burdens. She had many to carry now—a dead child she still mourned, a former bondmate who had shown his lack of faith in this world by fleeing to a Hab, a daughter besotted with a mad dream, who had become her enemy.

  * * * *

  Chimene awoke late. For a moment, she felt disoriented, then recalled that she was back in her own room, having returned to Oberg the day before. Boaz and Matthew had gone back to the settlement a few weeks earlier and had assembled a group of nearly one hundred people to greet her outside the bay. The crowd had cheered when they saw her; two children had presented her with a garland of red flowers. She might have been more moved by the display if she hadn't felt so tired.

  She longed for rest, for a few quiet weeks with her friends, but Boaz was already making plans for her to begin a tour of the other settlements. He had pointed out that the other dome Councils would appreciate seeing her after her sojourn on the Islands and that her presence at meetings in the other communities would inspire her followers now. He had talked of little except the trip after her return; she felt tired just thinking about it. There would be more months away from her home, more speeches to prepare, more people asking for spiritual guidance or inviting her to their houses. But Boaz would come with her and ease her burden however he could.

  She forced herself to sit up. Her bed was empty; Boaz had gotten up without disturbing her. She glanced at the timepiece on the table near the bed; the others would be finished with breakfast by now.

  By the time she had washed, dressed, and entered the common room, she found the rest of the household still seated around their trays of dishes. Two guests were with them, a blond young man, who seemed familiar, and a slender dark-eyed girl she did not know.

  Before she could greet them, Lang Eberschild got to his feet. “I'll fetch you some breakfast,” the gray-haired man said.

  “And I'd better be on my way,” Galina Kolek murmured as she stood up. “I've got two patients at the infirmary to see. It's good to have you back, Chimene—too bad you won't be staying that long.”

  “I wish I could.” Chimene seated herself on the floor. “But it will give me joy to see brothers and sisters I don't often have the chance to visit.”

  Galina picked up her bag and hurried out the door;

  Lang returned with a bowl of grain soup, herb tea, and some fruit. “You know at least one of our guests.” Josefa Huong gestured at the young man. “Maxim Paz—he says he was one of your pupils.”

  The blond man gazed at her with his black eyes before lowering his head. She remembered him now—an attractive but sullen boy, who did not have many friends and who had displayed no particular intellectual prowess. He had left school at twelve to apprentice himself to an airship mechanic.

  “I'm happy to see you again.” She was a little annoyed that no one had told her there would be guests. “Still working in the airship bay?”

  The young man nodded. “I'm a patrol volunteer, too.”

  “That's recent,” Boaz said, “but he seems to be working out well enough. Maxim has been visiting us from time to time while you were away, and I've been giving him some guidance, but it's my hope you'll make time to speak to him before we have to leave.”

  Maxim kept his eyes down. He had been tall even as a boy; he looked like a man now, although he had to be only sixteen or seventeen. “Of course,” Chimene said, wondering why Boaz wanted her to speak privately with this boy.

  “Maxim has a few problems,” Boaz said. The young man flinched; his cheeks were reddening. “But we needn't discuss that now. He has been making the effort to overcome obstacles to his faith. I assured him that you bear only love and forgiveness for anyone who tries to walk the right path, whatever his failings.”

  “That is true.” Maxim was refusing to look at her; his teeth dug into his lower lip. “I've struggled with my own faith,” she went on, “and committed my share of sins, I suppose, especially when I was your age. No one is condemned for trying to follow the right way. Please feel free to visit me tomorrow evening, if the patrol can spare you then.”

  “All right.” He did not sound as though he welcomed that prospect. “I'm honored.” Maxim rose. “I have to get to work.”

  “Which reminds me,” Josefa said as she got up. “I'd better get to the lab. Come along, Maxim—we can walk part of the way together.” She slipped her arm through his and led him from the room.

  “And this child,” Matthew said, “is Lakshmi Tiris.”

  The girl looked up. Her long black hair hung in a thick braid to her waist; her pale brown skin was flawless. Chimene saw her beauty then; the child almost reminded her of herself.

  “I wanted to meet you so much,” Lakshmi said. “I saw you a couple of times at meetings in our dome, but you probably don't remember me. When Boaz invited me here—” She turned toward Boaz. A flush darkened her cheeks; her brown eyes warmed as she gazed at him.

  “I should have remembered anyone as beautiful as you,” Chimene said.

  “Lakshmi's taken to following Boaz around,” Yusef said. “He attended a meeting at her parents’ house while you were away, and he was moved by the interest she took in his talk. He's visited with her family since then and told them she'd have a chance to meet you.”

  “I'm delighted,” Chimene replied. The girl was still staring at Boaz. “Are you in school?”

  “Oh, yes.” Lakshmi focused on Chimene. “In the southwest dome.”

  “And quite a good student, I'm told.” Boaz put a hand on Lakshmi's shoulder; her blush deepened. “I'm sure her teacher will forgive her for being late today when she knows Lakshmi was here, but we've detained her long enough. She and her household will be joining us for dinner after dark.”

  “I'll look forward to meeting your parents,” Chimene said.

  “Now be off with you,” Boaz said. “We'll see you later.” The girl hurried toward the door and shot Boaz one last look before she went outside.

  Chimene sipped her tea; Lang gathered up the empty trays and retreated to the kitchen. “Charming child,” Eva said. “She's so taken with Boaz—you'd think he was another father.”

  “I wanted to ask you about Lakshmi.” Boaz reached for a berry on Chimene's tray. “I've discussed this with the household, but I haven't said anything to the girl or her parents yet. I wanted to speak to you first. You needn't decide right away, until you've had more time to talk with her, but I think she should live here with us. We'll have a couple of weeks
before the trip, and I think you'll warm toward her as quickly as we all did. It'd be good to have a child in the house, and Lang's already offered to give up part of his room space so we can add a room for her. Josefa's willing to share her room with Lakshmi until we leave on our tour—she's quite enthusiastic about having the girl with us.”

  It seemed the others had already settled this and expected her to go along. “Her parents would have something to say about that.”

  “They would be honored to have her in the Guide's household,” Boaz responded. “They're quite devout—I doubt they'd object. On the contrary—they'd be delighted that we think so highly of her.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twelve—old enough so that her parents would be willing to let her go.”

  She could think of no other objections and wondered why she felt uneasy about having the girl in this house. Lakshmi was too young for the rite, and she did not want the child startled by seeing things she was not yet ready to view, but that small difficulty could be solved. Lang could always stay with her then; the older man often lacked the strength for the rite.

  “You seem quite anxious to make her part of this household.” Chimene looked directly at Boaz; he gazed back steadily. “Surely it isn't just because you want a child here.”

  “No, it isn't. I think the girl may have the makings of a Guide. I can't be certain—the Spirit will have to reveal that to you if such is the case. But if it's true, think of how much she would gain by being here, growing up with this household to guide her. She could be at your side, learning from you. If it turns out that she won't be the Guide, she will still be closer to the truth.”

  “She's awfully young for you to envision such a future for her,” Chimene said.