by Jo Clayton
3. Spy on the job
Shadith had her choice of ears. The ottotel was clean enough outside the walls, but inside was a busy haven for vermin of various sorts, much of it off the ships that landed here-mice and other small rodents along with assorted spiders and insects. Exterminators cost money and random sprays of toxics were likely to make some of the clients sicker than the vermin. ‘Bots and servitors didn’t care and the Ptakkan owners of the ‘tel had no intention of coming near the place. The rooms were sealed and small seeker ‘bots took care of complaints, if any.
Shadith stationed a mouse in the air duct, put it to sleep, and used its ears to pick up what was being said in the main room of the suite the Cobben infested.
She rather missed Autumn Rose, though she certainly hadn’t expected to. There was no one to talk to. And she couldn’t even go play. With all this passive mindriding, the concentration it needed, all this lying in dark rooms, not moving, trying to keep awake, she was too exhausted most nights to do anything but watch the vids. Everything in Lala Gemali, even around here in this bedroom community for low status workers, was geared for plucking the offworlders of their last coin. Coin viewers in every room. Watch the war and feed the Ptakkan greed.
She scolded herself, reminded herself she was here on a job, not chasing one of her own shadows or running down a personal threat. I have to get used to this, she thought. I’m on someone else’s time. Again. Well, I managed to get used to the diadem, this shouldn’t be too hard.
Listening to the Cobben was depressing. Despite what they did for a living-or maybe even because of it-there was a closeness between them that made her want to break off and go cuddle with Swardheld for a while. It reminded her too forcefully of the lack in her life. Reminded her that she had to yearn after Autumn Rose just to have someone about who shared a common purpose. Several times she bailed out quickly as sex play started developing. Made her envious and queasy at the same time. And curious, wondering what it’d be like to be part of a multiple arrangement that had been going on for a number of years.
Odd. She could spy on them to find out what they were going to do, to learn their skills and interactions in case she had to fight or even kill them, but spying on their sex lives to satisfy curiosity was something she simply could not do.
“The Blivvy was looking at you, Feyd, you know she was.” A rolling giggle. “Don’t know what she’d do with a little playtoy like you, you’d get lost in those rolls of fat”
“Oh, he likes them lush.” A rumbling growl of a voice.
“Someone turn on the shield?” A light dry voice, ambiguous as to gender.
“Why bother.” The first speaker, a mid-range female voice with harsh edges. “Government issue. You know it has to have holes in it.”
“Hoy, Sarpe, you said it.” Slow, rather dragging male voice, the words interrupted by a loud yawn. “I’m beat. Rest of you want to min the chik you’ll have to yob without me.”
“Yo, Orm, you right.” A quick ripple of a voice and a long sigh. “It’s sleep for me.”
Dragging sounds, giggles from the fresher, slap of flesh against flesh, coughing, smells of kava brewing, of soap and damp and dust stirred up. More coughing, sighs, creaking from the pallets, soft rubbing sounds from quilts moving over flesh. Silence for a while, punctuated by a few snores before one of the Cobben made an exasperated sound like a mix between a snort and the clicking of tongue against teeth and shifted the snorer onto his side, or perhaps her side.
More silence for a while, then sounds of movement converging on a corner of the room away from the sleepers. Quiet voices.
“Sarpe, we getting good money for this, but I’ve about had it here. How long’s it been, six years? Feels like six centuries. We’re getting to be like contract labor, if you ask me.”
“Yeh, Meya’s right. Stuck in a yobbing rut worse’n any bourgie snek.” A soft groan, stretching sounds. “I’m getting sloppy. If I had a real hit, chances are I’d blow the Cob. Don’t like it. Don’t like losing my edge. Don’t like feeling maybe it isn’t just me.”
A short silence, then the harsh clipped voice of the Coryfe. “You challenging me, Kayr?”
Sound of snort, then the quick light voice with a hint of laughter in it. “Don’t point your fangs at me, Sarpe Coryfe. I’m just telling you.”
A longer silence.
Sarpe’s voice, quieter now, the edges smoothed over. “I’ll be meeting with the Clo-Kajhat two days on, he said he’s got something special for us. We’ll talk again when I know what it is.”
Shadith took the mouse through the ducts until it was far enough away so its reaction wouldn’t reach the Cobben, then she turned it loose and let it go squealing off, tiny claws scrabbling on the plas of the duct floor as it ran for familiar territory.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, then rubbed them across her eyes. She was exhausted but too nervous to sleep. With a whispered curse, she hunted out a handful of coins and settled back to watch the war unfold. Once again the war. It had an awful fascination. After a week of watching she almost understood what brought the tourists here.
She drowsed as war scenes flowed across the screen, minor engagements and assorted overvoiced scenes meant to harrow the soul or something like that, with adverts for the bloodier action inserted at intervals.
Battles on pay per view. See Pixa phelas ambush an Impix farmer and his workers. See Impix overwhelm a Pixa ixis on its way to the Meeting Ground.
Total sensory immersion in the Sensarams. Be a Pixa warrior fighting for the purity of his faith. Feel what it’s like to live in a city shelled day and night. Rape. Slaughter. Cannibalism. Feel it all, relive the primitive thrills your culture has left behind.
Music swelled, the camera’s point of view swam among clouds, then swooped down to drift above a road paved with ancient yellow bricks worn hollow by centuries of feet passing along them.
“They can only walk,” the voice-over said, a resonant baritone oozing with sentiment. “On this roadway their faith permits only feet. They come from everywhere, from the mountains, from the plains, Pixa and Impix alike. They come in groups like this family, the tribond of fem-mal-anya and children, all they own in those packs on their backs, see the starved, weary faces of children too exhausted to be afraid any longer. Sanctuary lies ahead, just a few more hours of walking and they can rest, protected by the sanctity of the Holy City Linojin.
“Many come alone, the last survivors of slaughtered families or outcasts who have rejected faith and friendship, refusing to fight for the soul of their people.” The POV dipped lower, floating in front of a small solitary figure. “You can’t see cowardice on their faces, only dust and that bone deep weariness.”
The little Pixa trudged along, unaware she was being watched, her eyes shifting constantly, moving from the farmworkers in the fields to the other pilgrims behind and ahead of her, dark green eyes, wide and enigmatic, set aslant in a narrow face with smooth shiny skin like gray-green bark.
Shadith sat up, slapped her hand on the bed beside her. “Gotcha. Nice timing, O Fate. Hello, Yseyl.”
She crossed to the small kitchen alcove, set water to heat for cha, and hurried back. She folded the thin pillows and tucked them behind her, stretched out on the bed, ankles crossed, fingers laced behind her head, ignoring the treacly narration, her eyes fixed on the figure until the POV shifted to hover over the city.
Luck. It usually balances. I wonder what’s waiting to hit me in the face. Mp. Souvenir shops. Wonder if they’ve got anything useful on Linojin?
The POV swooped over the largest independent standing structure in the city, a white marble confection, every surface carved with interlocking, stylized forms of plants, birds and beasts, and with intricately interlaced knots, spirals, and other symbols. There were towers with pointed domes, grass growing green on the roofs, courts with ponds and streams and leaping fountains.
And a high swaying tower of angular openwork steel with wide flung ste
el cables bracing it against the wind from the sea.
Radio. Digby said you’d worked your way back that far.
The POV followed WhiteRobes pacing along the paths by twos and threes, hands invisible in wide sleeves, eyes on the ground. Male with male, female with female, anya with anya.
“This is the most sacred place on Impixol. The Grand Yeson. This is the center of worship for the Impix God. And these you see are the holy ones who govern in this city. The Anyas of Mercy, the Sisters of the Godbond, the Brothers of God. These are the ones who will question the Pilgrims, the exiles, these are they who decide who will remain in the city and who must be sent away to dwell in the poverty and hard labor of the nearby fishing villages.” The image of the exiled family trudging along the street briefly shared the screen with the Yeson. “Will they be allowed to huddle in the barracks of the Holy City or forced to fend for themselves?” The little ghost’s image replaced the family. “Is she hohekil, a refuser, or simply one too tired to fight any longer, seeking rest with her God? Will she be allowed to stay or will the Brothers find her unworthy?”
The screen blanked and the adverts reappeared:
Battles on pay per view. See Pixa phelas ambush an Impix farmer and his workers. See Impix overwhelm a Pixa ixis on its way to the Meeting Ground.
Total sensory immersion in the Sensarams. Be a Pixa warrior fighting for the purity of his faith. Feel what it’s like to live in a city shelled day and night Rape. Slaughter. Cannibalism. Feel it all, relive the primitive thrills…
The cha pot beeped. She went to the alcove, made her cha, brought the mug, and settled down to watch the rest of the show about the Holy City Linojin.
4
Clouds cover the sun, curtains of rain hide what is ahead. Danger or nurture?
Chapter 5
1. Thann’s trek
Mikil fidgeted near the door as Thann checked the straps on Isaho’s pack, made sure her bootlaces were tied and her coat was properly buttoned and belted tight to her slight body. In the anya’s room the radio blared suddenly, and a mal’s voice spoke through static; a moment later a-fern began singing. Isaho didn’t say anything, but her mouth tightened into a thin line and her eyes started looking at something only she could see.
Thann got to xe’s feet, pulled xe’s daughter against xe and held her until the small stiff body softened.
Xe wanted someone to do the same for xe. Xe was scared rigid.. Xe didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to go away from the place where xe’d lived alI xe’s life. For the past week as Isaho was healing, as xe was preparing for the trek, assembling food, tools, balls of cord, matches, a fire-striker, a folding knife, whatever xe thought of that was small enough to carry, as xe was trying to ignore Ankalan’s scowls and his angry mutters about parasites, every hour of every day xe’s mind scrambled endlessly for a way to escape this trek. Xe spent hours flattened against the earth in the rubble-filled caricature of a garden behind the battered, half-ruined apartment house, praying for guidance. The earth was silent. If God listened, there was no sign to show it.
Xe hefted xe’s own pack, let Isaho help xe into it, then tied into quick-release knots the laces that kept the strap in place across xe’s chest. Xe sucked in a breath, exploded it out, turned to Mikil. +Give us the Journey Blessing, Cousin. Please.+
Isaho made an impatient sound, but Thann pulled the child into place beside her and bowed xe’s head.
Mikil’s hand shook when she touched Thann’s shoulder with the ritual double tap. “May your feet go lightly on God’s earth and may your journey be safe and your days pleasing.” She tapped Isaho’s shoulder, repeating the blessing.
Thann felt Isaho stiffen, but again the child minded her manners and made no protest. This hardening in xe’s daughter troubled xe deeply; xe felt that Isaho was slipping away from the Company of the Blessed, that her soul would blow endlessly across the earth and never again know peace. Maybe in Linojin, xe thought, maybe they’ll know what to do, how to call her back.
Mikil opened the door, then stepped aside. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish… if things were different…”
+I know, Cousin. I leave only blessing behind me. May you and yours fare well.+
Mikil laughed then, a harsh unhappy sound that broke off as a wavery whistle came from the other room. As soon as Thann and Isaho were through the door, she pulled it shut. Thann could hear the bar dropping, then the quick heavy steps of the fern as she went to tend her anya.
Isaho tugged at Thann’s sleeve.
Thann slapped sharply at the femlit’s forearm, got her attention. +If you get yourself hurt again, you’ll never make it to Linojin. Let me listen for trouble and behave yourself.+
Isaho blinked, her eyes gleaming liquidly in the moonlight coming through the broken windows of the hallway. Then she nodded. “But we have to get started,” she whispered.:Now.”
+Yes, but stay beside me and keep your eyes and ears sharp.+
Isaho blinked, her eyes gleaming liquidly in the moonlight coming through the broken windows of the hallway. Then she nodded. “But we have to get started,” she whispered. ‘Wow.”
The cratered, rubble-filled street was a pattern of gray and black, the light from nearly full Phosis making strange angles out of shadow so that everything looked different. There was a strong warm wind blowing along the street, dead leaves and debris rattling before it, but the guns were silent. Now and then Thann could hear snatches of music from radios close to shattered windows, now and then the sounds of people talking or laughing or screaming at each other or sobbing.
Getting around in the city would be easier in daylight, but the snipers in the hills shot at anything that moved and the big guns hammered and hammered at the dying city. Night meant slow going and the scavenger gangs that roamed the streets breaking into places, destroying what they couldn’t use, but thinta would warn xe when they were about, so they were easy to avoid. Xe didn’t understand how they could do that, but it was of a piece with everything else; xe couldn’t understand why Pixa and Impix killed each other over a different reading of God’s Law.
Xe’s hand on Isaho’s shoulder, Thann crept along the street, thinta roving in an arc ahead of them. Xe wanted to know when anyone was coming at them, so they could hide till the danger passed. The chances were small indeed that such a person might be Sisters of the Godbond or Brothers on the way to the bedside of someone sick or dying.
Street crossing. That meant moving into the open, away from the sheltering walls. Thann stood a moment, turning slowly, straining to feel danger.
Nothing.
They ran across the street and into shadow again, corn-forting, blanketing shadow.
The moon slid through shreds of cloud, its light waxing and waning unpredictably, hiding and baring them in that random dance, giving them no warning of potholes and the concrete chunks that caught at the toes of their boots with what seemed to Thann like malice as if the inanimates of Impixol were striking blindly back at those who’d maimed them. Xe shivered and pushed the thought away, but each time xe staggered or caught the toe of xe’s boot, the fancy came sidling back into her mind.
One street crossed… three… nine… fifteen…
Xe’s legs trembled with weariness and a cold sweat dripped down xe’s face, burned into xe’s eyes. Xe wanted to stop, but there was no safe place xe could see, and besides, Isaho wouldn’t stop until she fell, and arguing with her would make too much noise.
Xe grabbed Isaho’s arm, used all xe’s weight to shove the femlit over a crumbled wall, then tumbled over after her. Before Isaho could speak, xe clamped a hand over her mouth, frantic because xe’s lack of speech might bring death on them all since xe couldn’t use xe’s hands to explain until xe was sure Isaho would stay quiet.
Xe felt stiffness, then a relaxing. Isaho nodded, her head moving against Thann’s hand.
Xe took the hand away, signed, +Someone coming at us.+
Isaho nodded again, signed: +How many?+
; +One band seven.+ Thann flicked a finger straight down the street. +One band six.+ This time xe pointed to the north and brought xe’s hand quickly toward them. +Side street.+
+Will they meet?+
+If our luck has left us. All we can do is stay quiet and wait, Shashi. And pray.+
Isaho’s body went stiff, and she turned her head away. Thann sighed, set xe’s hand on earth coming to life again after its years of sterility beneath pavement. So much anger. Forgive her she hasn’t reconciled herself to pain and loss. So young. Xe broke off that thought before it led to the areas xe didn’t want in xe’s head and sent thinta roaming again, feeling the life fires come closer and closer.
Fear sat in xe’s stomach like an expanding stone, cold, hard, heavy; fear was a below-the-skin shaking in xe’s legs and arms. Xe wanted to be back inside somewhere. Anywhere but here. Xe’d been frightened before, many times, but xe’d never been alone with it, there’d always been xe’s clan or xe’s bondmates to comfort xe. Now there was only Isaho, and Isaho was a child; it was up to xe, to keep her safe, to stand between her and danger, and xe knew in xe’s bones xe was no more a barrier than wet paper.
The stone in xe’s belly grew and grew as they waited, until xe felt glued to the ground by the heft of it. Sudden chatter of shots.
Screams, shouts, curses, clattering noises.
Silence.
The air around Thann felt as if it were stretching, pulled out and out and out into an unbearable tension.
A shot. Another. A whine as pellet ricocheted over their heads and thunked into the broken wall behind them.
The noises grew louder, came faster, surged toward them then away…
The encounter went on for another hour, then both sides broke off for reasons as invisible to Thann as those that brought on the, attack.