"So what would you do?" Hayl said. "Run around fathering children everywhere? And you claim Modernism isn't immoral"
Orttal regarded him with exasperation. "I never said that. How can you be so gifted at Quis and so blind when it comes to patterns preset for you by society?"
"They aren't preset," Hayl said. "It's the nature of womankind."
"Womankind?" Orttal snorted. "Is that supposed to include me or what?"
"You know it does." Mox juggled his dice. "Orttal, if we put you in charge of Varz, the Estate would fall apart. We'd be at war with Karn in a year." He waved his hand at Kelric without missing a single die. "Just ask him about the Imperialate. Wars, wars, wars, and their Imperator is a man."
"Actually," Kelric said, "the first Imperator was a woman."
Mox blinked and dropped his dice. Every head in the room turned to Kelric.
Orttal leaned forward. "But a significant fraction of the Imperial leaders are men, aren't they?"
"About half," Kelric said.
"Then what do you think?" Orttal said. "Could a man manage an Estate?"
They were all watching him as if they expected him to say something profound Since Kelric had nothing profound to offer, he said "Ideally, yes."
"Ideally?" Orttal looked ready for battle. "What does that mean?"
"As far as ability goes yes, of course a man can manage an Estate," Kelric said.
"But?" Jev asked.
"A leader can only be effective if people are willing to follow him."
"And you don't think people in the Twelve Estates are," Orttal said.
Kelric considered the thought. "It depends where you are. In a place like Haka or Varz, no. But somewhere like Dahl, yes, I think so. Someday maybe even here, given enough time."
Hayl gaped at him. "You really think that?"
Orttal laughed. "Don't look so shocked."
A tap came at the screen. Orttal went over and pulled aside the reeds, revealing a guard. "Manager Varz is ready for the Quis session with you and Sevtar," the guard said.
Their escort took them through the Estate to a high chamber with arched windows that overlooked Varz. While the guards took up positions outside, Kelric sat with Orttal at the Quis table. A moment later Avtac strode into the room, flushed as if she had been outside in the wind. Kelric suspected she had just arrived back from Karn She nodded to him treating him as she always did in public, with an impersonal respect that acknowledged his Level.
As with every one of their sessions together, once they began he saw only her glorious dice. They worked on strategies for issues that had come up during Council, playing Quis at its highest level, a sophisticated weave of patterns designed to shift public opinion to favor Varz over Karn. It required a delicate balance: too obvious, and the patterns could backfire on Avtac when she introduced them into the public net; too modest and they would have little or no effect.
The longer the session progressed, the more Kelric detected a subtle perturbation the others seemed unaware of. He wasn't even sure how to define it. That afternoon, after he returned to the Calanya, he stayed in his suite studying structures from the session. Finally he set aside his dice and went to visit Orttal.
When he knocked, the Third Level called for him to enter. He found Orttal in the den of his suite, standing by an armchair. A cabinet stood next to the chair, its doors closed and locked.
Orttal motioned to another armchair. "Can I get you some Tanghi?"
"Thank you. But no." Kelric sat down, followed by Orttal. "I wanted to talk to you about this morning's session."
"An engrossing one, yes?"
"Yes. But wrong somehow." He searched for the words. "Like someone had been playing Quis with a Calani from the Old Age."
Orttal laughed. "I hope you don't think I sat at dice with a dead Calani."
"Not sat with one. Read about one." He nodded to the cabinet. "Is that where you keep your books?"
Orttal stiffened. "You seem to think Five Levels gives you the liberty to insult people."
"If I'm wrong, I apologize."
Orttal got up and walked to a window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. He stood silhouetted against the skyscape, watching clouds drift past the glass. "Your Quis tells me much about you, Sevtar."
"Such as?"
Orttal turned. "Such as perhaps you understand me more than the others."
Kelric went to stand with him. "I've lived in a different culture. Several of them, in fact. I may see patterns that someone who grew up here misses."
"Yet you like being a Calani."
"In some ways." In Miesa he had liked it. In Quis terms, his situation at Varz was even better. But without Savina, it all felt like dust.
"And if you knew a Calani had broken his Oath?" Orttal asked. "You are Akasi."
"I won't tell Avtac, if that's what you mean."
Orttal considered him. Then he went to unlock the cabinet. He withdrew a book and brought it over to Kelric. "I was reading this when you knocked"
Kelric took the book. The title, stamped in gilded letters on a suede cover, read: Legends from the Kej Gold edged the parchment pages and the hand-drawn hieroglyphics were art-work, especially the symbol that started each page, a large glyph drawn in gilt inks, with vines curling around it and intricate borders.
"It's gorgeous," Kelric said.
"My wife, Naja, smuggled it to me on her last visit. It's about the reign of the last Kej Queen." Orttal returned the book to the cabinet and locked it away. "I had thought I was keeping it out of the Quis. I should have realized one can hide little from a Fifth Level."
"Our Oath serves a purpose," Kelric said. "Outside influence contaminates the Quis."
Orttal snorted. "Maybe it should be contaminated."
Kelric wished he knew the words to make Orttal see. It mattered to him that the Quis favored Varz: if Avtac's Estate thrived, so did Miesa. Savina's legacy. His daughter. But against Orttal's honed verbal skills he had no chance of convincing the Third Level.
He had, however a more powerful tool He indicated the table "Will you join me at dice?"
"Of course."
Kelric began with structures of ancient Kej and Orttal responded with patterns of his book. They brought in a sense of the Old Age, how Kej would have solved the problems they had tackled that morning with Avtac. At first the ancient and modern patterns developed along similar lines; Varz was much closer in attitudes to the Old Age than any other Estate except Haka. Then Kelric extended the patterns, showing how ancient Kej solutions to modern Varz problems ultimately failed.
Finally Orttal set down his dice. "You need go no further. I understand what you're trying to tell me." He pushed his hand through his hair. "I've no desire to weaken Varz. But I am starving. I want to consume all the literature of the world yet I am forbidden even to read my own name."
Kelric surfaced from the Quis with the disorientation he often experienced after an intense session. "Perhaps if you asked to be released from your Oath—?"
"Few Managers would release even a First Level." Bitterness edged his voice. "But yes, I asked. Avtac refused. I asked to be traded. She refused. I saturated my Quis with Modernism hoping to make her want to be rid of me. It backfired. She retaliated."
"Retaliated? What do you mean?"
Orttal picked up an amber block he used to denote their guards. "She sent an octet for me at night They moved me all over the Estate, never letting me sleep. Other times she refused to let me see Naja." He touched the opal ball he used for his wife. "This visitation marriage—I am no good at it. I want to live with Naja, see her every day, wake up with her in the morning. I hate it when I can't be with her."
"So you gave in to Avtac?"
"Yes," Orttal said. "I gave in."
"Your Modernism patterns may be more subtle now, but they're still there."
"We all put ourselves into the dice." He regarded Kelric steadily. "The more powerful the Calani, the more it happens."
34
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br /> Toppled Nested Tower
Winter blanketed Varz in meters of snow. Hayl looked out at drifts as high as his waist and wondered if Revi liked the desert. At least here he had Sevtar. Brilliant, strong, solid, respected by all Calani; the Fifth Level had no equal. Hayl had feared that once Sevtar began to assimilate into the Varz Calanya, he would tire of having a boy tag after him, preferring the sophisticated company of Orttal and the others. Yet despite his new friendships Sevtar remained steadfast to the old.
Today frost iced the parks. Hayl's breath made misty puffs as he and Sevtar sat on a bench, lacing up the soft shoes they used for running. When Sevtar rolled up his cuff, Hayl saw abrasions around his ankle guard.
"You should tell Avtac about that,"'Hayl said. "She can have your guards lined."
Sevtar shrugged. "It's nothing."
Hayl tied his other shoe. "At Miesa, my first set of wrist-guards didn't fit. Savina had them fixed right away."
A snap broke the morning stillness, and Hayl looked up to see Sevtar holding a broken shoelace. The Fifth Level swore, then tied what was left of the lace and stood. "Let's go."
Hayl bit his lip. For a moment he had forgotten Savina was dead.
Although a crew had cleared snow from the path where they ran every morning, ice feathered the flagstones. Sevtar set a grueling pace and Hayl soon tired, leaving the Fifth Level to sprint up a hill alone. At the top, Sevtar skidded on the ice. He fell backward and rolled down a hill, somersaulting through the snow until he piled into a grove of icefirs and hit the trunk of a tree.
Hayl plowed his way uphill, through billows of snowy powder. He found Sevtar buried in a drift, breathing in labored gasps as if he couldn't pull in enough air. As Hayl knelt next to him, footsteps crunched behind them. He looked up to see the valets gathered around them, all wearing stiff meshes on their boots that let them walk on top of the snow.
Netak turned to the others. "Go get a tank of air." While they took off, Netak crouched down and dug Sevtar out of the snow. Sevtar tried to sit up, then fell back again, struggling to breathe.
Within moments a guard captain appeared, running toward them with an air tank. As she neared, Hayl recognized her as Zecha, captain of the Varz Hunters. Her presence in the Calanya made him uneasy. Three times now she had come specifically to visit him, and the last time Avtac had given her Speaker's Privilege.
Zecha went to Netak and tilted her head toward the Calani gathering at the bottom of the hill. "Keep them away. But let Doctor Shyl through as soon as she gets here." She glanced at Hayl, her face gentling. "You go wait with the others."
He couldn't leave, not until he knew if Sevtar was all right. He retreated, but stopped when he moved out of Zecha's sight. He saw her put the air cup over Sevtar's mouth, but she didn't switch on the tank. Although Hayl had thought he was out of earshot, he clearly heard her speak.
"You need air?" she murmured. "Beg for it, crooner."
Sevtar swore and grabbed the tank, his fingers scraping across the metal. Dismayed, Hayl ran up the hill, his passage through the icefirs snapping off needles with loud cracks.
Zecha spun around. "I told you to keep away!" She switched on the tank so furtively that had he not known it was off he would never have noticed her turn it on.
Suddenly Doctor Shyl strode past him. As she knelt next to Sevtar, he lay back, drawing in huge lungfuls of air from the tank.
Zecha walked over to Hayl and spoke in a gentler voice. "I'm sorry I shouted at you." Looking down at him, she trailed her fingertips along his cheek. "You shouldn't surprise me that way."
Hayl regarded her uneasily, then backed away to watch the meds help Sevtar to his feet. He wished Zecha would leave him alone.
As soon as Avtac received the message, she strode to the Calanya. She found Sevtar sitting on the bed in his suite, still breathing from the tank but otherwise apparently all right. Hayl hovered nearby and Doctor Shyl stood at the foot of the bed conversing with the Speaker.
Avtac drew the doctor aside. "Why is he having trouble breathing?"
"There's nothing wrong with him," Shyl said. "He told the Speaker something about the an up here being too thin"
"Thin air?" Avtac asked. "As opposed to what? Fat air?"
Shyl smiled. "I didn't ask. I gave him a sleep potion. It should calm him."
Avtac nodded. Sevtar's eyelids were drooping already. She waited until he lay down, then dismissed everyone from the suite. When she was alone with Sevtar, she sat on the bed and watched him sleep. What possessed him to careen across the ice with no care or caution? And why hadn't he told her about the problem with his Calanya guards? It was fortunate Shyl noticed it. Had he let it go much longer, the abrasions could have become infected.
She sighed. One never knew with Calani. Illogical behavior seemed innate to their nature. She touched his lips. So warm. The smell of him drew her, made her want to hold him, cradle his head in her lap, surrender to his masculine warmth.
No. Avtac stood up. Never would she let him make her weak. Never would she let him do to her what he had done to Savina.
The blizzard pounded the night like an enraged warlock. Hayl tossed in bed, unable to sleep. Bizarre fragments of nightmare flickered in his mind: desert landscapes, a quarry, Zecha in a warden's uniform. Outside the wind shrieked and battered sleet against the window. Lightning stabbed the room, followed by thunder loud enough to split Varz away from the mountain. He pulled the quilt over his head.
"Hayl?" a voice asked.
He almost jumped out of bed. Then he realized it was only Sevtar standing there in the dark. "Heh. Where did you come from?"
"I'm sorry about the nightmares," Sevtar said. "I didn't mean to keep you awake."
Keep him awake? His dreams weren't Sevtar's fault. "I can't sleep either with all that noise out there." Hayl lit the lamp on his nightstand. "Why don't you stay?"
"All right," Sevtar said. "I'll be right back."
It surprised him that Sevtar wasn't sleeping. The Fifth Level tired more easily now than he used to, why Hayl didn't know. Nor was the accident today the first time Hayl had seen him struggle for breath.
Sevtar returned with a decanter of baiz and sat in an armchair by the bed. He made them each a drink, baiz for himself and Tanghi laced with baiz and tawmilk for Hayl. While the wind roared Outside, they sat drinking and talking, covering everything from snow to politics to Quis to starships. By the time Hayl finished his drink he had forgotten the storm.
"Hmmm . . ." He peered into his tumbler. "Makes you float away. Wish I could do that to Zecha."
"You and me both."
"She asked Avtac to give me to her."
"Give you to her?" Sevtar blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Kasi." Hayl stretched out on his back. "They set the ceremony for my fifteenth birthday."
"Saints almighty, Hayl." Sevtar stopped himself. "Unless—is that what you want?"
Hayl grimaced. "When I think about rolling the red die with her, I want a bath."
"Rolling the red die?"
"Mox's favorite subject. Sex."
Sevtar laughed. "Ah, yes." His smile faded. "I take it that means no, you don't want to marry her."
"I'd rather fall through the ice on a frozen lake."
"Tell Avtac how you feel."
"I tried. She never listens." Hayl hesitated. "Could you—I mean, with you being her Akasi—"
"Yes. I'll talk to her for you."
Relief swept over Hayl. "Thanks." He pushed up on his elbow. "Why is Zecha angry at you? Why wouldn't she turn on the air tank?"
Surprise flickered across Sevtar's face. "How did you know that?"
"I heard her."
"You were too far away."
"I know. But I heard her."
Sevtar considered him. "I've thought for a while that you show traces of Kyle reception."
"What is that?"
"It means you have a few Kyle genes paired." He paused, as if looking for the right words. "You're like a receiver. Yo
u can pick up a little of what others feel, especially when they're speaking or dreaming. They would have to be empaths, though, to make a signal strong enough for you to register." He tilted his head. "I'll bet Revi is an empath. It's probably why you two are so close. Kyle genes seem more common in pure Miesan stock."
Hayl sat up. "Does that mean Zecha is an empath?"
"Hardly."
"You said I could hear what empaths think. And I heard her. So she must be one."
Sevtar stared at him. "Gods. You're right."
Kastora pushed open the tavern door and walked inside with Ixpar. The hour was late and the youth who usually sang on the stage had gone home. Ixpar indicated a booth in one corner. After the waiter took their orders, she said, "Did you find anything?"
Kastora rested her arms on the wooden tabletop. "I dug up every record of a Fifth Level. In the entire Modern Age only two others besides Sevtar Varz have existed."
The waiter reappeared with their mugs of ale. Ixpar waited until he left, then said, "What were their contracts?"
"After the earthquake of 232 destroyed Hahvna Estate, the survivors went to Ahkah. So the Hahvna Fourth Level became an Ahkah Fifth." Kastora took a swallow of ale. "In 507 a Bahvla Manager fell in love with a Varz Fourth and brought him to Bahvla as a Fifth. The price of his contract was the Bahvla Calanya."
Ixpar's eyebrows went up. "She agreed to that?"
"And more. Varz took all profits from the Bahvla lumber industry for the next century."
Ixpar let out a whistle. "What about in the Old Age?"
"During the Desert Wars, Kej captured a Karn Third and held him prisoner as a Fourth. He escaped and received asylum from Dahl as a Fifth." Kastora set down her ale. "A few centuries later an Ahkah Manager kidnapped a Viasa Fourth and made him her Akasi."
Ixpar smiled. "I guess I could always resort to abduction."
"Are you really thinking of Fifth?"
"We have to do something. Varz is too strong now."
"The only living Fourth is Mentar," Kastora pointed out. "He's already in your Calanya. You would have to arrange for a Third to go to another Estate, stay there long enough to soak up its Quis, and then come here. Even that would do no good. The price of a Fifth Level would wipe out Karn."
The Last Hawk Page 33