Courtship Rite

by Donald Kingsbury

Her eyes, as blue and flecked as Assassin’s Delight, remained fixed on him. “Aesoe, tell him that you are not afraid to have him touch me, so that he will come here.”

  “By God’s Balls, Hoemei,” roared Aesoe, his mind completely distracted from its train of thought, “don’t just squat there on your knees playing her game! Crap and wipe yourself!” He nudged Hoemei impatiently with his foot, sending his councilman sprawling. “They send me leftovers from the creche tables! I need men! Men!” he raved.

  “My nice man,” said the Liethe called Honey, suddenly at Hoemei’s side, “I won’t be with you before the first sunset of Reaper so you must give this to Joesai.” She slipped the golden amulet from around her neck and pressed its tiny eurythmic form into Hoemei’s hand. “I was pleased to serve your husband and brother. Give him this to wear. No man comes to harm wearing a Liethe charm.” She rose gracefully to face Aesoe while Hoemei quietly recovered his dignity. “You see,” she said innocently, “I protect your man upon his mission. I am with your Gathering. Liethe overcraft will guard him.”

  “Nothing will save that imbecile!” snarled Aesoe, remembering what had moved him to anger.

  Hoemei carried the amulet to Joesai with Aesoe’s wrathful instructions. Joesai remained stoic about Oelita’s disappearance in the face of all anger — as if she were merely a promising student of his who had gone bad. Teenae returned from her search and lambasted Joesai, out of worn frustration, blaming him. He took it all like the desert drinks a cloudburst. “She did not have kalothi,” he said, genuinely saddened, for he too had grown fond of Oelita.

  Hoemei knew his brother’s mind. Joesai suspected that Oelita had slit her wrists somewhere, and worse, slit them in hiding, denying even friends the nourishment of a Funeral Feast. She had found the Awesome God and been shattered by the magnitude of the concept. Those would be the silent thoughts of Joesai. He would pity her without ever being able to say so. What was a woman if she could not let awe run through her veins without being destroyed by the power of it?

  Oelita had failed at the Sixth Trial. Hoemei remembered their brother Sanan. The eve of every victory, it seemed, was married to pain. Sanan would have loved Oelita at another time and another place. He dreamed of Sanan as a Roman senator and Oelita as a barbarian druid princess from Gaul.

  39

  Your enemy wins once you begin to take his strategy as your own strategy, and his means as your means — for then you have become your enemy. Do not be deceived that you use mellow words to describe your imitation and harsh words to describe your enemy. An infinity of words may be used to speak of the same action.

  Dobu of the kembri, Arimasie ban-Itraiel in Combat

  NOE WATCHED JOESAI leave the city with eighty men — only ten of them experienced — her heart filled with foreboding. She had climbed by herself to the tallest raceway of the Northern Aqueduct so that she could keep her husband in sight as long as possible, a climb she had not attempted since a distant day as an adventurous child. Its arches and levels had seemed easy then to a mind unused to assessing danger but had seemed deadly to two-father who whipped her with a cane for the climb. Now, the daring in her still unquenched, Noe held herself by the brickwork and looked out over the first column of the Gathering, ignoring the icy splashes of water that ripped by her hand.

  Joesai was taking his column by the eastern route around the Wailing Mountains to avoid Mnankrei spies, planning to cut through to the coast at a point far north along the Barrier Pass. Hoemei’s original scheme was a shambles. Aesoe had forced the departure of the Advance Court so prematurely that they carried only thirty rifles and were missing some supplies altogether. Maybe Aesoe had done that deliberately to derange Hoemei’s plans since his prediction of the outcome was already registered with the Archives.

  Noe was furious at Joesai for the trouble he had caused them, but she also remembered that the family had sent him to Sorrow with Death Rite in mind and only little Teenae by his side to restrain his hand. It was, in the end, a mutual decision that had caused the trouble. Even Oelita had contributed. One’s life was not a dead chip on a roiling spring river. As a consequence, Joesai had been isolated, dressed for the spit fire, and banished from Kaiel-hontokae for the rest of his (short?) life. Was it for him alone to carry the ire of the Expansionists? Of the maran, he was the most vulnerable — and so her first duty was to him.

  Noe waited impatiently the few days it took the og’Sieth to assemble twenty more tested rifles of the new quick reload design and then followed her husband with her own party at a forced pace, ruthlessly wearing out her Ivieth so that she might catch up with Joesai. Karval ngo-Ivieth, her lead porter, found fresh clansmen where he could and the pace never slackened. Sometimes when she was ready to drop, he carried her, without complaint, like a scarf about his neck.

  “Karval,” she once asked him, “what is your opinion of this Gathering?”

  “It is a matter between the priests.”

  “How are we to rule wisely if we know not the feelings of the underclans? Come! If your resistance hides disagreement, I must hear! The Kaiel do not fear dissent, nor do we harm dissenters.”

  Karval considered. “The Mnankrei interfere with our breeding rights,” was his only comment, but those words were weighted with disapproval.

  Ah, so Hoemei may really have the scent! If Mnankrei fingers no longer touched the soul of the underclans of Soebo, then, given forbearance by Joesai, it might be possible, as Hoemei thought, for Joesai to inspire a revolt and to survive by taking its leadership. Aesoe anticipated no such resentment in Soebo. His plans were built around the death of a martyr. The Mnankrei were Noe’s enemy, but Aesoe was also her enemy.

  Noe’s studies of The Forge of War had left her wondering that Getan clans had not invented the game of war themselves. The intrigue, the conflict, the hatred, the rivalry, the clash of ambition was there, the raw material of Riethian war. Perhaps her Ivieth’s answer was the clue. On Riethe the clans were organized vertically. They had fierce up and down loyalty but only the weakest lateral loyalty. One priest clan of Riethe could set their under-clansmen to killing fellow underclansmen of another priest realm, something inconceivable on Geta where horizontal loyalty was unbreakable and enforced by swift death.

  She tried to imagine what would happen if the Ivieth of the Mnankrei, half of whom must have wandered in from another realm, were ordered to kill the Ivieth of the Kaiel. What would they do? Laugh? Grow red with rage? Gape at such foolishness? Politely ignore the order? Kill Mnankrei? No Ivieth would destroy the bridges and roads of another Ivieth, nor harm the travellers that their Geta-wide clan-vow protected. Noe smiled at a preposterous thought she could not have entertained a few weeks previous — how difficult was conflict when priest had to march against priest, and ethics forbade the killing of more enemies than one could eat!

  Oh, those Riethe leaders were spoiled with their bowls of sunfire, their poison gases, and their specialized killer clans; the willingness of farmer to kill farmer, brother to kill brother, sister to kill sister, husband to kill wife, and right hand to stab left! Here we priests have to do it all ourselves! And God’s Wings, on foot!

  Karval called rest at a spring near grassy and bramble-filled foothills. Noe collapsed onto the ground beside the rifle wagon. She remembered that Gaet would touch these tools but not use them in his hands, pointed at something. Her coward husband!

  She unpacked the topmost of the lethal tools while they rested, loaded it curiously, carefully, and lying prone on the ground, held it against her shoulder. After breathing deeply — twice — she squeezed the metal thumb, immediately forgetting where she had aimed in her surprise. She never saw the pebble strike. Five lead pebbles later, meticulously flung into the hide of an old tree, she felt ready to attack any man who might attack her husband. She was sad she was not going to Soebo with him. She would be stuck on the coast, working with her seagoing relatives, keeping open the sea-leg of the Gathering’s supply line.

  They found Joesai
camped outside of the village of Tai. He was on a flat hill above the farmlands, teaching one of his fresh creche girls how to catch knives and throw them. Her hair was tied in a bun, her breasts shimmering with sweat and blood from a minor gash on her shoulder. The girl yelled and ran to Noe’s wagons where she emerged waving a rifle in triumph, the hontokae carved into her face distorted by a smile.

  Noe hurried her husband to his tent and fed him water, caressing him as she did so, eager for his body. “A bloodthirsty pride of children I have here,” he glowed.

  “We must forbid them to be Riethe,” she said. “It is important.”

  40

  Who shall judge the priests? They are not monitored by our God of the Sky for He passes overhead in silence. The priests rule by the grace of the underclans.

  The nas-Veda Who Sits on Bees, Judge of Judges

  So THE CRONE MOTHER had detected the rebellion Humility felt. The hag’s speech had been a lash of fury. Humility’s thoughts raged. Why must I care why those who die are condemned? I’m young! I don’t have to stay in a hive and think!

  Being young had its disadvantages. Youth was subject to the absolute will of the crones. And the crone mother saw fit to drill her on the Four Justices and the Lattice of Evidence and all the rest of it barring even time out for love. She was being readied for something. They always gave you the vessel before they filled it. The vessel was bisqued and then baked to stoneware hardness by the fire of their breathing. Methane-snorting witches!

  Humility knew she would be nothing without the Endless Training. There would be no palaces, no mastery of grace, no adoring men, no power, and no pleasure of the hunt and kill. The Training was the price. One even learned to love its rigor. But why the sudden hurry? It was keeping her away from Hoemei!

  The hive was gray; the floor of her cell was cold; her woven mat pricked her flesh with broken fibers: all minor tortures compared with the pain she was really suffering. She lay awake imagining the se-Tufi With Saucy Nipples giggling while riding Hoemei’s rod during her stand-in at being the Honey persona. Why do I care? Humility only knew that she desperately wanted to be in the Palace with Hoemei after being away from him only a week.

  Would Saucy know to bring a nightslip petal for him to smell? Why am I jealous of my own sister? In all her intricately memorized knowledge of the se-Tufi, there was no taint of jealousy. Did a se-Tufi, who felt jealous, fear her shame so much that she kept the emotion a secret from all her sisters?

  Once Humility had, on orders, smothered a Lineless Liethe for jealousy. The girl had slapped her lover’s wife. It had been somber to feast upon such loveliness. Weeks later there was nothing left of the beautiful body but the warm buskins worn by the crone mother. Jealousy was a foul emotion, lethal to the cause of the Liethe. The penalty was always death.

  Dawn of the high day brought an early rising and a summons by the se-Tufi hag. They shared a bun and honey.

  “Don’t you ever relax?” asked Humility, trying to be offhand.

  “When I travel.” A faraway look came into ancient eyes. “But I’m too old for the road. I shall die here in Kaiel-hontokae for my Feast. Keep a fingerbone for yourself. I have a special place for me in your belly. I envy you; you still have much journeying in front of you.”

  Humility was quick to perceive that the reference to the road was not idle gossip. Her heart caught. “Are you telling me that I’ll be travelling for you?”

  The hag grinned. “I have been training you to be my ambassador to Soebo at the Crone’s Court. In Soebo you will see how marvelously the Lattice of Evidence sifts for crime. You will know that I have taught you well.”

  “But I don’t want to go to Soebo!” Humility cried.

  “Ah! You’ve changed.” The old woman first chuckled, then sighed. “You must go. Serious scandal is afoot. The Liethe watch all Gatherings. We participate in our own way. You will know what to do when you get there. Your youth is over. You are ready to decide for yourself who must die. Do not be impulsive. Remember always that you are acting for me and that I shall judge you. You leave tonight.”

  “Shall I not see Hoemei again?”

  “No.”

  Only the White Mind seared away her tears. She bowed to duty. She bowed her head to the floor. She swore allegiance to mother and hive and clan.

  And cheated. Saucy Nipples was her friend and sister. They arranged a brief switching tryst so that she might say goodbye to Hoemei who would never even know that she had left. She was crazy with excitement. She bathed twice and broke flower petals upon her skin. She read the love poems of the Sexing Chant to prepare her mind.

  Hoemei was tired but she did not mind. She hugged him and enjoyed the caress, not clinging too long, for to him Honey had only been away for sun-heights. He was tired so she fed him; he was tired so she undressed him and laid him upon his back while she massaged the plowings of his body; let him lie comfortably while she mounted him to feed him the pleasure of her hips. “You’re the love of my life,” she said, squeezing him with her lower self.

  He only laughed because Liethe always spoke thusly to priests.

  “Hoemei!” came a whisper at his door, a woman’s voice, hurried, frightened, excited.

  He held his Honey to keep her from moving. “Yes? Who is it?”

  “Me of course! Kathein! You’re all alone — with Joesai and Noe up north, and Gaet and Teenae on the coast. I was feeling sorry for you all day, so I’ve come to see you.”

  “God,” said Hoemei, rattled.

  For the Queen of Life-before-Death, the moment was pain. She had never before hated a woman, and what could be more painful than that? Slowly she lowered herself from her riding position until her breasts mingled with Hoemei’s hairy chest. She gave him one last kiss, a quick one while she stuffed the feel of his body into her memory. “She’s an old love of yours, isn’t she? Let her come. While I hide, she will be fascinated by you, and while you hold her with her back toward me, I will leave.” Humility dismounted, collected her things rapidly, and took herself behind the tapestry.

  “Kathein. I’m not dressed,” he delayed.

  “That’s the way I want you!”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He got up and patted the tapestry, and of all the things he could have done, that pleased his Liethe the most.

  “What’s happening?” said Hoemei as Kathein slipped through the door.

  “Silly, you’ve dressed yourself!” she admonished him.

  “I’m in a state of shock. What are you doing here? Aesoe will have us for rugs!”

  Behind the oz’Numae hangings, a disheveled Humility snorted in her mind. He hasn’t learned how to handle Aesoe yet! When will he ever learn!

  “I’m tired of making love to Aesoe,” she said sulkily. “He likes to sleep with his head on my breasts — and he snores!”

  A sudden knowing smile erupted in hiding. Humility wondered why she was smiling while she was in such pain, and why she tolerated the agony when she could as easily go into White Mind and order any response she desired from her body. It was love. They told her it might happen someday. They told her it happened at least once to every Liethe and that if she were lucky she would be old before it did.

  She felt a petulant exasperation. They want me to know why I kill! And I get stuck with being in love! She did not like growing up.

  “How’s the new clan going?” Hoemei asked.

  “You’re so the intellectual! How’s my clan going,” Kathein mocked. “You know how it is going! I’m surrounded by children who have to learn everything from me. I’m astonished by their speed! But I want people who have lived. I miss you all. I hate Aesoe for sending Joesai out to his death! God Above, what an astronomer he’d make!” She was crying and Hoemei took her in his arms.

  Humility stuck her head out and motioned for him to pull Kathein to the cushions. He did so, holding her tightly, locking her into an embrace that generated passion from Kathein. Slowly, Humility tiptoed away, clothes in he
r arms. She wagged her tongue insolently, pausing just long enough to frighten him, waiting at leg’s length from Kathein’s shoeless toes, a nostalgic look on her face. If she were Hoemei’s wife, she could join him on the pillows now.

  Morality! she thought sullenly and was gone, silently crying, wetting her cheeks, anguished that her last meeting with Hoemei had crumbled into such a disaster. It was the first time in her life that she remembered tears she had not faked.

  She took the route through the Valley of Ten Thousand Graves to the coast, an arduous journey that one did not make frivolously. She found a proliferation of the strange skrei-wheels and charmed rides from their pedallers in exchange for a hand at pushing on the difficult grades. There was evidence of new roadwork everywhere. A conqueror lays out roads. That was axiom.

  Before reaching Sorrow she turned northward through the mountains because a signalman of the Moera clan, who was not a true Moera, worked the great tower atop the Peak of Blue Concern. No command ordered her to find him but he did live along her route to Soebo and there was a standing call for his execution.

  Humility first encountered Anid toi-Moera at the inn where he liked to eat, overlooking high cliffs above the sea. She waited and, after dinner, followed him into the wilderness fog. But at the perfect place for murder — a curving trail among huge trees that grew more than two man-heights tall — she hesitated.

  Why did he have to die? The accursed Lattice of Evidence was prickling her mind.

  The crone said he was a bearer of the foul underjaws to these parts and that he accepted coin for overhearing all messages that passed through his tower. Humility knew nothing more, not who had accused him or how his deeds had been cataloged, just that he was marked for death.

  During her moment of introspection, he disappeared.

  She slept in the woods to the crashing sound of waves below, stunned by her vacillation. See! It was true that no assassin should seek to understand her target! Orders were enough. The hunt and kill were enough. To be curious meant fatal irresolution.