Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

He nodded slowly. “The weariness comes from the strain. The unsettled feeling — it is the stone’s urging you to find your shadowmate.”

  “She will find me. I need only patience.”

  His smile was kindly. “That you have always had.”

  They sat in silence for a time, each accepting the other’s solitude, companionship easing the isolation. As the flames danced and the wood popped, Elana felt peace envelope their stillness. Gradually a subtle awareness drifted between them.

  A mild surprise took Elana as she recognized that in some way, each of their hearts was drawn to the same thought… to their would-be mates. “I did not know that you ever cared for her in such a way.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted in irony. “The Mistress? Oh yes, as Fates’ Jest would have it. I thought it comfortably settled into oblivion, but I was mistaken.”

  “She does not return your affection?”

  His bald head moved sadly. “No, her heart has always been irrevocably bound to Ror’tay. Your grandfather was quite a man. A dear friend of mine in days past. I am glad to know he finds peace tonight.”

  “He… he is gone?”

  The Master nodded. “At darkfall.” He raised his cup in salute. “May the Mother hold him near.”

  Elana felt a sadness stir. She knew nothing of the man, Ror’tay, this Seer now gone, except the fear she had felt while running from the Maltar that he was following her with his sight — and would discover Di’nay. She wondered if perhaps, somehow, he had recognized her, and whether the faintest of consciousness of who she was had stirred in him to thwart Maltar’s decipherings. She would never know. Seers slipped into mindlessness sometimes, never to return. Yet for some pieces of life would touch them, and — for an instant — the individual would re-emerge.

  “How do you feel — to know he was kin?” The old man broke into her thoughts with gentle concern. “It would make many bitter.”

  “I bear Maltar my grudge, not Ror’tay,” Elana said icily. Her voice softened. “I could never hate one so mindless and abused. I will never know him as you did, Master. I feared him as I fear an ensnaring rope. But to be bitter? No. How can I hate a piece of rope? It is the one who knots and tightens the noose that is responsible. The Ror’tay I saw was a sorely worn and abused tool, no more.”

  “And as your kin?”

  “I regret not knowing him as he was before. I regret my mother did not know her father.” Elana shuddered as the memory of the Seer’s Tomb returned. “As his granddaughter I am Sighted, as a Blue Sight I understand — as a prisoner in the Tomb I knew some of the horror he endured. If it were me, I would have been grateful to the one who ended those seasons of insanity — those eons of torture. I am even a little glad I could do that for him. Because he is of my blood, did I not owe him at least that much?”

  He took her words in slowly. All she said was true. A painful wisdom for one so young. But no more painful than the loss Aggar would know when she departed. Whether Elana left this life or this world, the Council would sorely miss the path she could have shown them. He caught his thoughts — hadn’t he just been reassuring himself she might survive?

  Reassuring? Or denying…?

  † † †

  Chapter Twelve

  Drawing a deep breath, Diana thoughtfully looked at the comphone in her hand. Hal the shuttle pilot was still not answering; short of putting the base on Attack Alert, there was no way to reach him until ten o’clock since this was his day off. Another four hours. With grim resignation she set the receiver down. Thomas would be suspicious if she requested another shuttle pilot at this late date. With the transport she was supposed to be taking off-world waiting, everyone on duty would already be assigned… that would mean calling in a volunteer. By that time she knew it would be close to ten anyway.

  And she could not ask Cleis to take her. Her friend would never say no to this sort of favor, but she was not sure that Cleis was even up to a short shuttle hop. She could not trade one of them for the other.

  Diana dropped wearily into the desk chair. It seemed like hours had passed since she’d left the destroyed lab. But it had barely been sixty minutes. Her mind churned, refusing to acknowledge what she knew must be true. Her own ignorance — slowness — stunned her. There had been enough evidence, yet she had been too self-centered to see it. Or had Elana’s gentle redirecting been at work?

  She should have understood sooner. It was called lifebonding for a reason. She remembered Elana’s vagueness when referring to her future. It had happened often enough, that elusive muttering. Why hadn’t she heeded its importance?

  Their menses had followed the same calendar, yet she had not really noticed. Women who worked or lived together often had the same cycles. But Elana was of Aggar; she should not have bled as frequently as Diana no matter how attuned their natural rhythms.

  Diana remembered the way the ruby-blue lines shivered and pulsed into life at their bonding. It had been her own rhythms setting that flow into motion — her rhythms passed to Elana. The soothing tempo of Elana’s heart beneath her ear as they lay together had been the tempo of her own heart. Not quite equal to the number of heartbeats, the sound had seemed familiar to her; the rhythms had slipped into matching measure with her own, like half-notes imposed upon quarter notes. Always in time, always together. It had seemed right to hold her and listen to that steady beat. Of course they had matched — the stone’s power had matched them.

  It had brought the two of them safely through so much, the power of that small stone. But their bonding had gone beyond the stone’s ties and their minds had meshed with their bodies.

  And what of their hearts?

  She loved Elana, Diana knew. From too soon to this day, she loved her. Elana returned that love, but it took so much more to leave one’s home and way of life.

  Time… Diana mourned the empty days of their separation just as she feared they had been too many. In fifty-two hours now the transport would leave orbit, and Thomas expected the three of them to be on it. There would not be another for two months. Two months — only a monarc… it was not so very long. She could become ill with some mysterious thing or other. Or fall from a horse, perhaps? Yes, Thomas would believe that readily enough.

  She did not — could not know — if Elana would want to leave this world. Grimly she thought of Elana’s frozen form aboard the shuttle and wondered if the journey could even be risked. What would six months sealed within the artificial world of a spaceship do to a Blue Sight — and with her different metabolism? Then what of the two years of assimilation on Shekhina moonbase at home?

  More immediately, what did eight days of separation do to one named Shadow?

  She had said within a ten-day. Elana had promised she would be there. And yet the sword had lasted what? Seven… seven-and-a-half days?

  “Have you been up all night?” Cleis’ voice interrupted her, and Diana glanced up thankfully. This waiting was growing unbearable.

  “No.” Diana forced a smile. “And you? Why are you up so early? You’re supposed to be resting.”

  “I am resting, and if that laser tech did his job properly, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be in here resting instead of in bed.”

  Diana chuckled, spinning her chair fully around as Cleis settled onto the couch. The ‘laser tech’ was the chief surgeon of the base. “What time do you leave?”

  Diana stretched her legs stiffly and crossed her ankles. “Tennish.”

  With a scoff, Cleis returned, “Hal is off-duty today. You’ll need to wake him if you want to see her before mid-day.”

  “You’re in an awful hurry to get rid of me,” Diana observed dryly.

  Cleis shrugged matter-of-factly but winced as her ribs protested. The hole in her lung might have been repaired, but there were still other things to be tended.

  “Do you need the meds?” Diana asked in concern.

  “No — ” Exhaling slowly, Cleis felt the spasm slow. “I have no interest in being groggy for the next six m
onths, thank you. I’d only end up addicted to the stuff.”

  A wry twist to Diana’s smile added to her sarcasm as she said, “Unlikely. Much too fanatical.”

  “I refuse to answer that,” Cleis said, but she was grinning.

  They were silent a moment, and thoughtfulness drew across Diana’s face. She pressed the bridge of her nose, refocusing her attention. “I’m sorry. I had forgotten you didn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Earlier this morning, around five, there was an accident in the chem lab.”

  “Dearest Mother. Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, no one at all. They can’t quite figure out what happened. Apparently the transport just brought in some new supplies and they’re guessing something was mislabeled and poorly packed. Whatever it was, they think, it made Lazarus’ new acid compound critically unstable. Everything was fine when he left the lab around nine last night, but the alarms went off this morning. It was simply incredible… two square meters of equipment, cabinets — the wall and everything beyond it was gone.”

  “Gone? How do you mean gone? An explosion?”

  “A very silent one. It disintegrated. Turned to powder and just fell away.”

  “Eieh — if they ever figure out what was mixed together, the arms people will have a field day.”

  “Maybe…,” Diana mumbled. She remembered standing there, looking through the two-inch steel wall that sat gaping open like a cavern. It had been the south wall of the lab, and the field depot was housed beyond it. Her locker had dissolved along with the lab wall. Although Thomas had been very sympathetic in the few seconds he could spare from his general panic, his words had barely registered with her. She had only stood there, stunned at what she saw. There had been nothing left of cloth or steel; all that was left was a gray dust… and the stones from Symmum’s sword.

  In the commotion no one had noticed her sifting through the gray powder of her belongings. No one had seen as she lifted the murky white stones from the dust. Six imperfect ovals, so cool to the touch… once they had scorched her palms through the very gloves she wore. Unscathed by Lazarus’ mysterious ‘acid,’ they merely lost all glimmer and pulse of color.

  Wordlessly she had pocketed them and left the scientists to their speculations; she had her own pursuit. How could she have been so slow?

  “Diana…?”

  She glanced up at her name.

  “I said, you’re brooding again.”

  “Am I? Sorry.” Her friend’s words registered then, and curiously Diana looked back to her. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

  “Again. What does it usually mean? Somewhat frequently and recent, recurrent, repetitious… you know, again!” With a short, exasperated sigh, Cleis threw up a hand. “For the past week you’ve floated around here half here, half back at the Keep. When you’re there, you’re wistfully content. But here, you’re brooding. When are you going to tell someone what you’re fretting about?

  “All right…,” Cleis corrected herself quickly as Diana began to laugh, “all right. Me, I mean — tell me. Isn’t it about time to?”

  “It would seem so,” Diana returned, wondering how her friend’s patience ever extended to accept any of Diana’s moodier moments. Cleis had the curiosity of a cat… but she had the strength and warmth of the feline, too. Perhaps, Diana decided, it was time to ask advice.

  “I guess,” Cleis began more somberly, “that there is a problem between you and Elana about immigrating. Am I right?”

  How much to tell? Not the stone. But if it wasn’t too late, was it possible?

  Diana sighed and slumped forward, covering her face for a moment. It seemed to take forever to muster her wayward thoughts together. Why did her mind always seem so muddled when she thought of herself and Elana? The answer to that, she realized with sudden clarity, was that she needed to think with her heart a little more often. She dropped her hands and faced Cleis. “You remember me speaking of a gift she has that is similar to n’Shea?”

  Cleis nodded.

  “Elana’s gift is much more strongly tied to the Goddess’ world and herself with it. When she is isolated — separated from organic auras, it is… I can’t explain it. But it’s like drowning in a cold, black well.”

  “You’re worrying about the trip then?”

  “And about Shekhina… two years of screening, education — immigration procedures before she sees planetfall.”

  “That could be changed,” Cleis reminded her. “Special Provisions exist for a reason. You could petition n’Sappho while we’re still in transit. The hearings could be arranged for the day of arrival if need be.”

  “I know very little about the Provisions,” Diana admitted. “I’ve only heard of those rejected.”

  The imperial agencies were eternally attempting to circumvent the Sisterhood’s immigration process because none of their agents ever successfully completed it… either the women were discovered and denied entry or renounced their imperial duties and sought political asylum from n’Sappho. The result was that the Empire knew quite a lot about Shekhina, but very little about the Sisterhood itself.

  “Do you think n’Sappho might consider such a visa?”

  “My grandmother was admitted with one. They surely can’t be that uncommon. Most simply, the need must be there, and your case is certainly legitimate enough. And even if they denied it, Diana, two years would not be in a complete vacuum. The greenhouses are open to all; there are quadrants where wood stuffs and linens are more frequently used than fiberfill and polysynthetics. I mean, look at what you’re wearing.” She waved to the bulky sweater of homespun beastie wool. “Wouldn’t any of that help her?”

  “Yes, of course, but walking around half-blinded for two years is a lot to ask of anyone’s sanity, Cleis.”

  She had no answer to that, and yet Cleis would have sworn that Elana wouldn’t be daunted by such a challenge.

  “On the transport it would be much more difficult,” Cleis began again, finally addressing the worst of the problems. “But there would be a way. If nothing else, you and I could ensure she was never left alone. It would not be easy, but perhaps it would be enough?”

  “Yes… perhaps.” Tiredly Diana sighed. Given a chance, it might work. “I have not talked to her yet about immigrating.”

  That didn’t surprise Cleis. Matter-of-factly she said, “Then it’s time to.”

  “If she decided to stay, I won’t be going home,” Diana added quietly. She had not really thought to say that, but as the words came, she knew them to be true.

  Finally she understood why Elana had not spoken of the dangers of their parting — she would not hold Diana to this world through pity. That made two of them, Diana thought, because she would not force Elana to leave Aggar merely because the companion she was bonded to was an off-worlder.

  “You are serious,” Cleis said, almost too upset to speak, “but are you certain?”

  Elana had been right, Diana thought. I will never be prepared to lose her to death. “I am.”

  Cleis had never known the woman to break her word. The words Diana spoke echoed of such a pledge. The tears stung behind Cleis’ eyes, and stiffly she rose to her feet. Her mouth felt like cotton, and her voice sounded dull to her own ears as she said, “Give me a minute to get ready. I’ll fly you out.”

  Diana began to protest, but Cleis held out a hand to forestall it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll even check in with what’s-his-name when I get back, if you like. But if there’s a chance that you are to stay… at least a Sister should see you away.”

  Pain twisted through her heart as these words were said, but Diana was grateful… truly Cleis would never know just how grateful.

  † † †

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Do you think it wise to let her still work so with the others?”

  The Old Mistress turned a stern eye to the Council Speaker. “There is more here than you appear to see.” Below them was the practice field where Elana coached th
e younger trainees. They watched as a pair bent and leapt into a sprint.

  Elana’s voice carried in the wind as she urged them on. Satisfaction flickered across the old woman’s face. “Do you see how they follow her every move — absorb her every word? There is not a single daydreamer or jester amongst the lot.”

  Elana squatted, placing someone’s foot into a better position. None of those above could see what she was pointing at, but the trainees’ concentration was evident as several began shuffling their feet into place and testing the new directive.

  “They do seem inordinately respectful,” the Council Speaker admitted. The young apprentice beside him nodded, and he realized the same awed attention held this lad as those below.

  “She is the Shadow alone and yet returned,” the Mistress said with pride. “She is the epitome of their dreams… their dreads. She is a Shadow separated from her companion and yet look — she moves, she speaks… she can still out-race the lot.”

  “Quite a feat… but she is dying, is she not, Mistress?”

  The woman frowned impatiently, “She wearies. She is bruised. Yes, she is a Shadow separated. But the myth — the fearful myth that without the shadowmate the Shadow is helpless falls! What do you see here? Weakness? Or strength?”

  “She is an incredible young woman. I have never suspected otherwise. She was your finest student.”

  “Was… is. Look at her! See the living proof in her very motion! She is testimony to the essence of lifebonding and yet she dispels the ancient myths that even you fall prey to. Look! She walks with them, laughs, and yes — bests them at much of their own sport. Not useless without her shadowmate, Speaker, she is tangible evidence that Shadows move, think — act without their human’s directive presence. She is creating a whole new generation of Shadows, now — as we speak!”

  “But in two days — three maybe, she will be gone. What will they remember of her then? That she died gallantly, without fear?“

  “No!” Exasperated, the Mistress drew a tight breath and tried again. “She is the strength of Shadow. They will remember that strength. When separated from their companions — in death or by distance — they will remember her walk… her words, and they will seek to imitate. Think of the countless we have lost because of the separations that might have been merely a five or six day ordeal? And yet their fear caused them to weaken — to lose hope, so they died before they could be reunited. None will be lost so easily now! Think of the missions that have failed because the companion fell before the quest was finished? Shadows will not yield so easily, and their task may yet be done before they follow their mate’s death. She shows them how to live — to fight the weariness, and this they will remember.