Life Sentence (Forlani Saga Book 1)

by John M. R. Gaines

  “I don’t know how I feel,” she said. “He thought I was Entara. I hope I did the right thing. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Did I do enough to please?”

  “Young lady,” said Peebo, “I don’t know how many clients you’ve had in your house, but you never pleased any one of them as you pleased Klein just now by just keeping him company for a few minutes.”

  “It’s the most important thing that ever happened to me. I’ll never forget it.” She shook her head. “I’m going to have to think of something to tell the overseer at the house because I don’t want to have any clients after this, ever. Do you think I will be expelled?”

  “Don’t worry. I think they will be very happy with whatever you decide to do. I’ll make sure of it.”

  The next time Klein was aware of being awake, he saw two human and one Local form standing next to his bed.

  “How do you feel?” asked one of the humans.

  “I’m not alone here. You’re the doctor. What’s up, doc?” he laughed. “Alles in Ordnung.”

  “Any pain?”

  “No pain. No pain, no gain,” Klein chuckled. “Just a little crowded. Like a crowded elevator sometimes. What floor are we on?”

  “It’s the morning of Day Ten. We’ll do the removal in a little while. Do you know what that means? You’ll be sleeping after that.”

  “The first notes of the coda.”

  “The coda? What the hell is he talking about?” wondered Patak.

  “It’s the end of the symphony,” answered Peebo. “He’s a little out of it but he still understands.”

  “Hey, I know you. What’s his name gardener. You gave me a room. A nice room for me and Entara and we didn’t have to pay. Thanks, farmer. Farmer in the dell.”

  “Someone else is here who wants to see you.”

  “Green grasshopper. I know who you are, too. You show me pictures. Hold up your leg.”

  Stumpy did as requested.

  “Stumpy wants to have a little earlink with you one more time if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’m ready for Freddie.”

  The Local inserted its feeler up to the eardrum and concentrated just on “listening” to Klein’s mind, trying to reach as far into the past as possible. Klein was already there. Images were remarkably clear and distinct. It was a shore. A beach, someplace called Rügen. Klein was a small child. He stamped around in the water. The waves lapped at his knees, then his waist, then his chest, as he squealed, “Mutti, look, this water is moving!” A human woman with yellowish brown hair and blue and white clothing tight to her body came up and took his hand as he plunged further into the sea. “Let’s go! Farther! Farther!”

  “Helmut, come and help!” the woman called. “He’s slippery as an eel and he’s trying to get away from me.”

  Another human with a black garment around his middle came up and took the other hand. “What are you trying to do, little fish, go all the way to Sweden?”

  “Let’s go all the way! Lift me up!” shouted little Willie.

  They each raised an arm and held him up so he was running across the top of the water.

  “Now you can be a superman,” said Helmut.

  “You’re not my little boy anymore,” said Maria. “You’re Good Heimdall, the son of the Nine Waves and you will watch over a Rainbow Bridge into the heavens.”

  “More! I love this! Let’s go all the way!”

  They walked down the beach wave by wave, the three of them laughing.

  Patak and Peebo watched Klein in his bed. “His lips are moving,” observed Patak. “Can you make out what he is saying?”

  Peebo leaned in close. Klein whispered, “Bevor…bevor…Freude.” And those were the last words he said.

  The young woman clasped the poncho they had given her on the ferry tight around her body because, although the rain had stopped some time ago, the wind still had that chill only moistness can give it. She moved quickly up the road, sometimes hopping puddles in the compacted earth. There was a slow, irregular stream of wagons and walkers heading in the opposite direction. These were mainly Dissenters of all ages, dressed in their best clothing, barely more formal than what they would wear in the fields or in the market. She was worried about being too late, but when she asked them, they merely reassured her to go on up to the end of the road. She felt miserable inside. I’ve failed, I’ve failed. I’ve come all this way but it didn’t do any good. I’m so alone. She could scarcely understand that the Dissenters looked on her with compassion, even as they realized they should not stop her. When she got to the clearing at the end of road, the first sun had already set. In the twilight she saw a dozen Forlani girls singing around the monument. The monument was a simple stone obelisk about six feet high. She would learn later that it had been hastily made by a man named Luis. The Forlani sang on and on, voices arranged in several harmonic groups that seemed to answer each other in a complex pattern. She turned to the only human left in the open space, a Dissenter boy from the looks of him.

  “Am I too late?” she asked.

  “Never too late to pay your respects. The Circle met and some people spoke a while back. They’ve all gone back to the ferry by now, except for the ones that stay near here. I brought these girls from Site 55 with my wagon and I’m going to wait and take them back whenever they want. My name’s Bart. You must not be of the Circle. Which site are you from?”

  “Off-planet,” she sighed. “My name is Amanda.”

  He looked at her with surprise. “The Amanda?”

  “Amanda Pedersen-Klein”

  “Wait till I tell the girls. Welcome to Domremy, by the way. I never did meet your dad, but I’m proud to know you. He was a great man. I don’t know what we’re going to do without him.”

  “Neither do I,” said Amanda, holding back a sob.

  “Here, you better take this before I forget. It’s your share of the ashes,” Bart explained.

  Amanda reached out and took hold of a simple metal container that fit easily in the palm of her hand.

  “I hope that’s OK. They left it with me in case you should show up. Of course, most of his remains were buried there under the monument. The Circle wanted some for a future ceremony and the Locals asked for a little bit to mark the place where they had their first conversation with him. It’s become an important stop on their migrations, probably holy.”

  “Thank you, Bart,” Amanda said. “I’ll bring it back to Earth and maybe my mother can help me think of a good place. Bremen is mostly under water and Düsseldorf hasn’t been cleared yet, but maybe we can go there eventually.”

  The Forlani continued to sing, moving every so often into a different symmetrical pattern to add a dance-like quality to their song. Finally they stopped and stood in silence a few minutes before moving to unpack some things from Bart’s wagon. He had a few words with them and one of them came over to Amanda.

  “Greetings, Amanda, First Daughter of Klein. I’m so glad you were here for our tribute song. My name is Ayan’we. I knew your father when he came to our planet. It’s a long story and I would really like to share it with you sometime. But right now you look so cold. Did you come all the way from the ferry on foot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you must need some refreshment. Come join us for a little fruit and juice. Please, we would be so honored.”

  Ayan’we brought her to the rest of her group and introduced her. Each Forlani girl seemed thrilled and took her by the hand. They urged her to try the succulent fruits they handed her, and their sweet pulp soon began to revive her tired body, if not her spirits. Bart sat on his wagon nibbling bread and cheese and taking an occasional swig from a cider jug.

  “Aren’t you going to ask the boy to join us?” inquired Amanda.

  “Already have,” responded one of the Forlani. “I think he’s afraid of being tempted.” They all giggled.

  Ayan’we explained. “Young men in the Dissenters generally avoid us and the houses because they’ve heard stories that we
can bewitch them with our pleasures. Of course, Forlani always try to please their clients, but we’re quite happy if human males keep to their own mates. That’s why the houses here are dwindling. My fellow singers come from several different houses because we couldn’t form a proper chorus just from one house or one matriline. Nowadays there are many more options for our girls. If they choose to visit Domremy, it’s often because they are passionate about the lives of my mother, Entara, and your father.”

  “You, the daughter of Entara?”

  “Firstborn,” admitted Ayan’we with a bit of guilty pride.

  “I’d like to know more, especially to tell my mother. She’d heard about your mother and was always curious. Not jealous, I mean. Mother’s never been really attached to a single man, and often to none at all.”

  “I think I understand. I sort of feel the same way about males.”

  “Don’t you … work in the houses?”

  “Well,” answered Ayan’we, exchanging a knowing glance with her singers, “I’ve received pleasure training like all the girls in my cohort. However, I’ve never served in a house, mostly because there always seemed to be other things to do. As for marriage…” She made a Forlani version of a moue. “My two nearest sisters pester me all the time, as well as others. For the time being, I feel it would be more suitable to look into other things.”

  They had finished the meal and were putting away the leftovers. It was already getting quite dark. Amanda noticed that Bart had unhitched his team of mules and staked them to graze.

  “We’re going to camp out tonight,” announced one of the Forlani. “Won’t you join us?”

  “Please do,” said another. “It’s much too late to get back to the ferry this evening and we can bring you in the wagon tomorrow.”

  “Camping out is so much fun!” added a third. “The sky is completely clearing now and we can see the stars. We all sleep together in a cluster to keep warm. It’s so great, because normally we don’t get to sleep with non-matrilines.”

  “You mean one big bed?”

  “Of course. It would be silly to be all separate instead of warm and cozy together. It’s not as if some male would crawl up to you and try to get intimate,” she chuckled. All the group laughed together, adding little gestures toward Bart, who huddled into his sleeping bag and pretended not to hear.

  The twelve Forlani started to form tiers, a couple jumping on the mattress first crying “Bottom for me!” Ayan’we stopped them and said that as guest, Amanda should get first choice. Not knowing how it would feel trying to sleep under all those mink-like bodies, Amanda chose the top level. Actually, they did not sleep on top of one another, but slightly overlapping in three partial layers, like Greenland sardines in a can. They pulled a cover over the top. Despite its sheer appearance, it was amazingly wind-resistant. The warmth of the Forlani bodies beneath and around her soon made Amanda feel awkwardly comfortable, as the girls continued to chat with each other in their own language.

  Amanda rolled over a bit to look at the monument and a tear slid down her cheek. Astonished, she felt a tongue flick out and taste it. The Forlani on her left said something and Ayan’we corrected her. “Speak English,” she insisted. “It’s impolite to talk so Amanda can’t understand.”

  Ayan’we murmured to Amanda. “Don’t be insulted. She couldn’t help it. She was just curious.” Then Ayan’we spoke a little louder to the others. “Yes, it’s salty. It’s the way they feel sorrow. Don’t act like you didn’t hear about that in training. I know it’s a bad sign in clients, but for Amanda, it’s a sign of grief.”

  All the Forlani reached out to touch her face and her hair, saying they were sorry and they didn’t want to stop her tears. Amanda felt so touched that she cried a bit more, but then reassured them that she really felt well with them, better than she had felt for a very long time. They all settled down again and gazed at the stars.

  “From now on, you’ll be one of our sisters,” said Ayan’we, giving Amanda a little hug.

  The Forlani continued speaking English for her benefit, picking out stars in the sky they might want to visit and imagining what life would be like there. The girl on Amanda’s left suddenly asked, “Which one is your star of Earth, Amanda?”

  She looked up at the alien constellations and admitted, “I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

  “I know which is your star,” said a girl in the tier next to her. “It’s that one right up there.”

  “Where?”

  “Show her Siita, I can’t reach.”

  The girl to her left took her hand and pointed it up to a group of stars. “That constellation is what the Dissenters call the Good Samaritan. That star in the head is the one your dad selected to be Amanda’s Star. He told Moe, son of Peebo, who told Luis, who told an Eyes of Alertness in the Stafford Station house and now everybody on Domremy knows and some have made diagrams to bring back to Forlan to share because the skies are different at home.”

  Ayan’we whispered in Amanda’s ear. “Klein couldn’t give you the days he wanted to. Now he has given you a star. When you look at it, from wherever you look at it, you can remember you had a wonderful father who chose to live on in you.”

  Amanda fell asleep without realizing the passage of time. She would never feel truly alone again.