The Complete Ivory

by Doris Egan

  "Leave it up," I said. The sun was high, and the shadows of the bars made cross-patterns on his face and robe.

  "All right," he said.

  After a while I said, "It's a nice day for summer. Not too hot."

  "No," he agreed.

  Herd's voice filtered through the trees, calling someone. A moment later a goldband came by, carrying a tray. He was familiar, but I couldn't remember his name. He inclined his head to Ran and said, "Call for you on the Net."

  Ran signed. "Probably more expressions of sympathy. I'll be back in a little while, Theodora." He pulled himself up and brushed off his robe.

  The goldband put down the tray on the ground beside me. "Excuse me," he said, "but Herel sends these to you."

  There were three small pastry-cakes. Ran lingered for a moment looking down on them. "I'd steal one, but they were obviously cooked for you." And so they were; there was a thick coating of dark icing on each one. Everyone "knows" that barbarians like lots of sugar. Herel was going to destroy me with her polite attentions—not a day went by but she fired up her oven to make me something, and how could I get rid of it nicely? I couldn't even crumble up her offerings and hide them in my room or stuff them in the trash; one of the goldbands on cleaning duty would be bound to notice and tell her. There are no secrets in a house with servants.

  The goldband who'd brought out the tray said, "She said to leave it here for you."

  "And not to take no for an answer, I'll bet," said Ran. He grinned. "Don't worry, Theodora, there are lots of boulders to hide it under. Just wait till we're out of sight."

  I hoped he wasn't adding telepathy to his other talents. They left, and I lay down under the bars and let the sun warm my face.

  The cakes were fresh and smelled delightful. After a few minutes I sat up and said, "well," to myself. I picked one up. Try as one will to be sick, I thought, health gets the better of us all. I took a bite.

  And I was shocked when Ran jumped down beside me and knocked the cake out of my hand.

  "Spit it out," he said.

  "What?" I said through a mouthful of icing.

  "Spit it out, " he said, and even as he started to repeat it I spat out the mess onto the dirt.

  "Did you swallow any?"

  "No," I said. "Who—"

  "Tagra." He sat back on the ground and ran a hand over his forehead. "I thanked Herel for the cakes and she said she hadn't made any. Jad said that he'd gotten his orders relayed by Tagra. I checked her room; all her things are gone." He was breathing hard.

  The goldband—Jad—came running up. "Medical?" he asked. Ran shook his head. Jad said, "I sent someone to ask at the stables. Tagra took a horse about an hour ago— that would be just after she spoke to me and asked me to take the cakes out of the oven for Herel. She must be a good fifth of the way across Cormallon territory now… if she's heading northwest."

  "And of course she is," said Ran.

  "The aircar's in good shape. There's a lot of cover in that direction, but we're used to spotting people heading for the Sector. We can hunt her down, sir."

  Ran closed his eyes. He took my left hand in his. After a moment he said, "No. Let her go." He opened his eyes and looked at me. I nodded.

  Jad said, "As you say."

  It was three weeks after Tevachin that I happened to wander into the Cormallon library. I'd been taking reg-ular meals, to Herel's great relief, and to my own, in a way; breakfast, lunch, and supper at least provided some structure to my rather rootless days. I'd been avoiding the library, perhaps because it was where I first met Eln. But it began to look like a potential refuge now, where I could get a measure of personal relief in the sometimes bloody-minded, joyfully conscience-free memories of past Cormallons. Nobody in the household mentioned Eln's name—not once—and it was getting on my nerves.

  It was easy to see the new addition to the room. There were bouquets of flowers all around it, vases standing on the floor and tucked with difficulty into the shelf. There were flowers that I'd never seen before, sent in from other parts of the continent, expensive fire-lilies from hothouses in the capital, and in one vase there was even hearthwhistle from the meadows around Cormallon. And only one lonely bluestone pendant on the shelf. I picked it up.

  And had one of the major shocks of my life. I heard my name.

  I had the presence of mind to keep hold of the pendant as I found a cushion and sat down.

  "Theodora, cherie," I heard, in what was not quite a voice, but had the tones of Grandmother running all through it. "Theodora, I am repeating this over and over again in the hope that you can hear me. You are the only one who will receive this; if my grandson picks up the stone, he will hear something quite different. I would like to ask your forgiveness."

  What?

  "When my first grandson was born, his father had his cards read. The cards said that Eln would cause great trouble in our House one day. The configuration was certain; I know, I was the card-reader. I couldn't lie about a reading, but I put my foot down when his father talked about sending Eln away to be raised. Send the child out of our control, where we couldn't see what he was doing? My son was always an idiot. One would think he had never heard of old stories.

  "But I couldn't let Eln be killed, either. It put us all in danger, but I could not allow it. He was my first grandson, and he was a beautiful child. After all, we did not know how this trouble would come; perhaps not by Eln's choice, perhaps not his fault. This was an excuse, I know. What difference did it make to the safety of our House whether it was his fault or not?

  "He was always a delightful boy, I loved to talk with him. Doubly precious, when I thought of the trouble I'd gone to to keep him alive.

  "But I had to watch him, just the same. I knew when he made up his mind to regain his place in the family; I knew when he decided to kill his brother. He was going to wait until I was out of the way and then he was going to bring murder to our House. And by the time I was dead, he might be strong enough to succeed—I couldn't wait for that to happen. I began to exaggerate the effects of my illness; not much of an exaggeration, I knew I was dying. With Kylla's help I began to shut myself out of the day-to-day affairs of Cormallon. I retired to my rooms. And I held onto life.

  "As I hoped, Eln felt safe enough to begin taking over in earnest. It was dangerous for you and for Ran, but the danger would have come anyway, and this way I could keep an eye on things. Kylla kept me informed of everything that went on in the household. I did what I could; it was through my intervention that you were not killed in the aircar fire—Ran was not quick enough in his shielding—and it was I who had Kylla arrange for you to be taken off the Queen Emily.

  "I know today that it is over, my duty is performed, finally I can let go. Finally.

  ' 'I beg that you will not judge me too harshly. You will think, perhaps, that I have interfered in your life. But something had to be done, there was a choice to be made. I loved Eln best, but I could not allow him to retake Cormallon, nor kill his brother for that end. This is Ivory, Theodora, we cannot trust our courts and police as Ath-enans can; those institutions exist here mainly to collect taxes. Families must make their own justice, and the tragedy of it is that the prisoners we judge are the people we love.

  "Well, there is something I can do for you. If you truly want to return to Athena, I do not think Ran will stop you. Keep the onyx cat, if you like, it has performed its service for me in keeping me informed of my grandsons' minds. More importantly, from your point of view: I have removed the curse from Ran's cards, so you are free. Although, you know… there is no need to tell him that, little one."

  The message faded with a brief visual image of Grandmother's bedroom, the table with the star-maps, and the awareness that Kylla was coming in with a tray.

  I sat and thought about things for a long time.

  After a while I picked up the pendant again. The message was fainter this time, tinged with other thoughts, other memories. A tah plantation to the south, plants with huge leaves
, as big as I was. Faces with labels attached like a faint perfume: father, mother, husband. Eln as a child. Ran, too… the label was "young brat," but it was affectionate, and I was glad of that. If there was a message for Ran, I couldn't read it. Finally I returned the pendant to the library shelf.

  Things were coming together that had never made sense before. I was beginning to see that Grandmother's plans had gone way beyond controlling possible harm from Eln. That damned onyx cat… no wonder Ran had drawn away in Braece. He grew up in this house, he knew Grandmother for the unrepentant manipulator she was. He knew she wouldn't have given the onyx cat to anyone if she didn't expect it to stay in the family.

  This needed thinking about.

  I left the library and headed for the back garden. In the downstairs corridor I met Ran, coming the other way. I put up a hand, and he stopped.

  I said, "Have you been in the library since Grandmother died?''

  He knew very well what I was asking. "No," he said, with the slightest touch of embarrassment. As a dutiful grandson he should have been, but I could sympathize with a wish to avoid this particular mark of respect.

  "I think you should go up there."

  He said, "You've never given me a hard time about family custom before."

  "I think she left a message for you," I said.

  He paused. I said, "I don't know the retentive quality of bluestone. If you wait too long, could it get lost in the stream of life memories?"

  He said slowly, "That's possible."

  "Well," I said, "It's up to you. I'm going out to the garden."

  I left him standing by the stairway.

  An hour later he joined me by the mirelis vine, one of my favorite spots in the back garden. I couldn't tell if he'd been to the library or not.

  It was a tall mirelis, in summer bloom. I sat with my back against a rock, and Ran lay down on the grass. It was a companionable sort of silence, but I made no assumptions from that.

  Mirelis flowers have a sweet center, so I'd heard. Ran pulled down a blossom, opened the petals, and pulled out the tiny silver bulb inside. He offered it to me. "Have one?"

  "Thank you, no. I'm already addicted to tah."

  "This isn't addictive."

  "Not technically. It's a euphoric, though, isn't it?"

  "Coward," said Ran, as he popped it into his mouth. He put his head down on the grass again. After a while he said, "I've been wondering, Theodora. The funeral's just over, I know, and there's still a half-year mourning period… but these things take time, and I was wondering if we should start making arrangements now.''

  "Arrangements for what?" I toyed with the idea of trying a mirelis anyway.

  "For the wedding. Kylla's been asking me, too, and we ought to set a date."

  I sat up with a bounce. "I beg your pardon?"

  He turned his head. He looked perfectly serious. "I understand wanting to put if off, I've felt the same way.

  All the fuss and the relatives and the arguments over details—it's like holding two jobs at once, and we shouldn't postpone reopening the sorcery practice, either. But we have to get it over with eventually.''

  I continued to start. "Did I miss something here?" I asked. "When did we get engaged?"

  He blinked. "I thought you expected it. Everybody else expects it. You're my card-reader, you have to come into the family sooner or later… and I assumed that we… uh, that is to say, we… get along… you're a little old to adopt, Theodora. I'm not bringing you in as my daughter, that's definite."

  "Well, I should hope not!"

  "Well," he said, "there you are." And he smiled. "A barbarian in the family is just what we need. Speaking personally." He pulled himself up on one elbow. We were dangerously within kissing distance, I thought, but then I considered all the time we'd spent harmlessly together on the road from the south, and decided he wouldn't take advantage of that.

  He did. About ten minutes later—or maybe it was fifteen—I became aware a goldband was standing over us.

  It was Jad. He appeared totally unconcerned and unembarrassed. "Sir," he said, "Supper's ready."

  Ran rolled over, sighed, and said, "Whatever happened to discretion?"

  "Herel told me not to come back without you. She made two dishes just for you tonight."

  "You're more afraid of offending Herel than you are me?"

  "Yes, sir," said Jad calmly.

  Ran nodded. "We're coming." He stood up and offered me a hand. I took it.

  That must have been quite a message Grandmother left him. On the way back to the house I decided to spend the next morning on the Net, looking up ships' itineraries.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Certainly Ran was taking a great deal for granted. I wondered if he'd come upon any of the "young brat" imagery yet.

  I hadn't eaten much at supper (to the minor alarm of Herel, who feared I might be backsliding) and woke in the middle of the night ravenous. I made my way down to the kitchen, where I found the lights on and Kylla, sweaty and blood-spattered, standing at the sideboard in her trousers plucking a groundhermit. Two naked hermits were piled on the trestle next to her, their heads beside them. Her bow was propped against the wall.

  She looked up. "Theo!" she said happily. "Just in time. I didn't dare wake Herel. Grab a bird, start plucking, and maybe we'll be out of here by dawn."

  "Uh, I just came down for a glass of water."

  She laughed. "I only wanted to scare you. This is the last one. But if you want to be helpful, you could wash those two and wrap them up and put them in the icer.''

  So I did. When she finished the last groundhermit, she handed it to me and said, "Be right back." She vanished while I cleaned it and put it away, then reappeared in her nightgown. She'd found time to splash water on her face and arms. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "what a night. I love it like this, two moons out and stars all over the place." She threw herself down on the bench. "It must be the wild romance of the night that kept you awake."

  "Hunger," I said. "I skipped most of supper."

  "You know, I see why you and Ran get along."

  "You said that to me once before," I said. "Listen, Kylla, about this getting-along stuff—"

  "What about it? You mean you've already heard? I wanted to be the one to tell you."

  "Tell me what?"

  She gave me a satisfied smile. "Lysander Shikron's been officially accepted by the family as my fiance. Ran gave his blessing and argued the council around. The Cormallons and the Shikrons are as of this moment on speaking terms."

  "Kylla!" We hugged. Then we talked about the wedding plans, about Lysander Shikron's physical characteristics, and about the general quality of life. Kylla still had not told her promised husband that she smoked a pipe and liked to sit with her feet up. ("We'll work up to that," she said.)

  "We'll have to be careful not to get married the same day," she said. "Bad luck for two weddings in one family."

  I frowned. "Ky—" I said.

  "Hasn't he brought it up yet? Heavens, try to get a man to set a date for a social function. I'll have to have a talk with him—"

  "That's not the point, Ky."

  "What is the point?" She seemed genuinely puzzled. "Is there something wrong? Theo, darling, whatever it is, we'll carry it out with the trash and never mention it again. You're not already married, are you?"

  "No!"

  "Well, that's all right, then." She smiled. "Although if your husband were on Athena, we could just pretend he didn't exist. Change your name, pay off the necessary officials, or hire someone to make him behave. Not to really worry… I'm thirsty. Would you like some tah? It's my own blend, half green tah and half Ducort tah, mixed."

  "Yes, thanks."

  She came back in a minute with two wine bowls and two tah cups. The wine bowls were very old, with painted scenes on the inner rim. "The tah's boiling," she said,

  "but I had a better idea." She poured wine for us both. "Ducort tah and Ducort wine," she said, "two things that make li
fe worth living. Anyway, that's what Eln always used to's—"

  She stopped.

  "Go ahead," I said.

  "I'm sorry, Theo."

  "Kylla, what nobody here seems to understand is that I want to talk about it. You people—this planet—when you don't want to deal with something you ignore it, pretend it doesn't exist. That's not the way I am. I need to understand things as they really are. Or were."

  "You'll never make na'telleth that way."

  "Maybe not."

  She leaned over. "All right. Nobody's here. Let's talk."

  Four hours later the sun was rising. Across the room, on Herel's huge range, sat a pot with the remains of old noodles stuck to the bottom. There were dirty plates all over the table. Kylla leaned back against the wall and patted her belly. "I think I might be sick," she said.

  "Me, too."

  "You know, I don't think you're supposed to put oil with noodles when you boil them."

  "They did taste a little funny. But the sauce helped."

  She nodded. "I don't know if I can make it upstairs."

  "I don't know if I can move," I said. But I helped her up and we headed for the door. "Anyway," I said, "If I do end up trying to run the estate, you'll be around to tell me what to do."

  "Don't count on it," she said sadly. "I'll have my hands full with Shikron."

  "A cheery thought," I said.

  She grinned. "Try not to let it influence you."

  According to the Net, no ships were due to lift for Athena for at least three months. Two freighters would be going in late summer, and a few weeks later two passenger liners were scheduled to go. I wiped my question from the Net just in case Ran decided to check up on me; Grandmother might think he would go along with this, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I would relax and enjoy a vacation until the departure date.

  Well, not quite a vacation, for two reasons. The first was a bound volume I finally held in my hands, with a Standard title: A Branch of the Common Tree: Riddles, Proverbs, and Folk Tales of Ivory. Collected and Translated by Theodora of Pyrene. It wasn't my original notebook, of course; that had been in Ivoran, in a combination of real characters and my phonetic renderings. I had the Net print out the final version and a shop in the capital bound it for me.