2
Moor came to stand beside me. “It’s not what I expected,” he said. “I expected that from up here the planet would look tranquil, but see the clouds and how they stir. It’s easy to believe, seeing Artekka now, that warriors outnumber men and women of peace.”
“Do you not consider yourself a warrior?”
He paused. “Yes, I do. I was widely admired in my village and the surrounding area. Some of the generals favored me exceedingly, and I might have had a better career in the army than my father did. Unless you are unusual, and I am not, to have a mediocre army career is to see your ambitions destroyed and replaced by bitterness. There is not a child in Soom Kali that doesn’t dream of being a shining soldier.”
“But you are unusual!” I exclaimed.
He frowned and looked down at the floor, then outside at the diminishing sphere below. “Seeing you sitting alone, staring at our village, I realized that even being the best soldier in the sector would have its limits. I haven’t lost the desire. It’s as strong as ever.” Now he gazed directly at me. “But other desires grew stronger.” I felt a turbulence inside me, and remembered my parents, and the way I would sometimes try to imagine them in the mating ritual. I could never imagine it before, but this time I could easily picture them, young and in love.
I indulged in the Bakshami romance ritual of extravagant lying. “My desire has always been for someone exactly like you,” I said. I would tell him lies, and then would work hard to make them become truths. I did love him, but I had always feared Soom Kali and its people. My old beliefs were folly; still it was a lie to deny they had existed. In time, according to the Bakshami ritual, I would convince myself of the truth of the lies, until they became in fact true. Eventually, I would see that the fear I’d had of the Soom Kali people had really been a desire for Moor. And my nervousness with Sennim had really been the nervousness I’d anticipated from when I met Moor. I hoped I could get through the ritual correctly without guidance or context.
Sitting at the screen together, we were astonished to see how quickly our thoughts turned from what lay behind us to what lay ahead. Misshapen Lomos had never looked so bright, like something precious but unpolished. Yet after first being awed by Artroro and then overwhelmed by the vastness of space, I began to wonder what Forma was like. Already some of the novelty of being on the ship faded. We still felt fascinated and amazed, but we no longer stared compulsively at the screen or out the portholes.
The medicine had started to wear off and I needed to lie down. Moor carried Shami and me to a mat. She could barely sit up. Her eyes had taken on a waxy quality, and even her shiny black coat seemed unusually unkempt.
Moor lay with us, and we napped. When I woke up, darkness veiled the room and Moor had left. In the short time we’d been sharing a bed, often he’d already risen by the time I first opened my eyes. Shami slept curled up next to me. I put my arms around her warm body, and she nuzzled my face. She seemed so warm and affectionate that I lay in bed hugging her instead of getting up. Eventually Moor slipped into the room and sat on the bed, brushing my forehead with his hand.
“Mariska?”
“I’m up.”
He turned on the light and pressed the sticky medicine against the skin inside my arm, at the elbow. He leaned over me with a look of alertness.
“We’re landing,” he said.
Though the ship supposedly could travel at unimaginable speeds, much time had passed. Zem said he did not believe in great speeds—they were against Nature, and besides, he did not understand the more complicated aspects of the console. But now we had arrived.
We landed, hidden in a lush forest, in the region of Forma farthest from the Bakshami border. While Moor and Zem talked, I went outside to investigate. Just as Moor always brought his knife for protection, I now brought Artie with me. Shami, to my heart’s delight, was recovering from ship sickness. She licked all who came near her and gazed at us all with loving eyes.
All around the ship rose trees, dark moss growing across the ground and up the hulking trunks. The weight of the ship had cracked the branches of a couple dozen trees, and we’d come to a halt above ground, sitting on the trunks. There was nobody around. I realized now how fragile my plans were, how I had no idea how to go about searching for my parents.
Moor joined me outside. We silently walked together through the trees. After a while he said, “It may not be easy to find your parents.”
“We will find them.” I looked around foolishly for a sign.
We fell silent again when we heard hooting sounds, almost like a larabird’s mating call, from above. I strained to hear a sign in the hooting. Some light filtered through the trees, but I didn’t see any stars. What sky I could see exhibited a sheen from clouds. I could almost smell the humidity from all around, from the moss and the damp ground and the droplets on the leaves. Long, reflective things crawled across the ground, so many I had to push them out of my way or else slip on them. I toed a white plant growing from the ground, and it cracked easily in half, the wispy white top falling off the stiff stem. When I picked up the top portion, although it almost filled my palm, it was as light as something the tiniest portion of its size. I brought it to my nose; it smelled faintly of dirt.
Deciding to wait until daylight to find our way out of the forest, we returned back to the ship for a last night. I was glad. I felt sick from the flight, and Zem and Moor got sick, too. So while Shami was making a recovery, we humans spent our first night in Forma lying down feeling nauseated. Zem got well first even though he made the most noise, groaning like a woman in labor.
Moor suggested that after we parted ways, we should meet back at the ship in twenty sunrises.
“Sometimes no idea is better than an idea if the idea is a bad one,” said Zem.
“What!”
“If the idea is worse than no idea, it’s better to act on no idea than on the idea. That way everything stays the same. If everything is the same, at least you know what will happen next. Don’t leave me!”
Moor dismissed Zem’s squeaky drama, lightly touching his friend’s face with his palm. “Twenty sunrises.”
“Don’t leave the ship! Don’t leave me alone!” We managed to appease him by promising we would keep alert for any unusually delicious foods to bring back for him. And then we left. Zem had given us Forman clothes to blend in, but none of us looked as pale as I’d heard the Formans were. But Zem said many foreigners lived in Forma as working-class partial citizens.
Outside, the sky sprinkled. Everything around us was so green the air itself seemed green. Artie, whose spirit had deteriorated while Shami lay sick, ran happily through the trees, crashing among the bushes and fallen branches, jumping over fallen trees, and stopping occasionally to smell the slimy crawling things on the ground. There were fewer than last night, but those that remained were as big as my hands. Artie pushed at them with his paw and jumped forward and backward. They crawled so slowly I didn’t see how they survived. I picked one up. It tickled my palm as it slowly moved over my hand and up my wrist and forearm. When it slipped off, a trail of glowing orange secretions lay on my skin, and the trails began to sting me. So even a slow animal such as this could protect itself.
After an hour we reached a path. The going was nothing compared to some of the walking I’d done in the past. The remnants of sickness had worn off and I felt exhilarated by the humidity and surfeit of green around us.
We heard voices in the distance. Moor had had his hand on his knife, which he always hid in his clothes. Now his arms hung at his side, but I saw the readiness in his limbs.
We came upon a man and a woman who looked at us guiltily and hurried off.
“They didn’t even seem curious about us,” I said.
“They’re probably taking time off from work. Forma is a working society like no other, but they think they’re free.”
“How can they think they’re free?”
“Because they’re free to quit their jobs if
they wish, but food, water, clothes, and so on, can only be bought. And energy and seeds can be supplied only by the state. The fruit from these seeds they buy bears seeds that themselves cannot bear fruit.”
“I’m glad they didn’t ask any questions. I was raised to tell the truth.”
“And why do you who by tradition lie to your lovers tell the truth to strangers? Those strangers might harm you.”
“Let them try. I’ll tie them up and bury them in the dirt.”
“Your words are violent, Bakshami girl. You’ve learned to speak thus during our travels.”
“And cut them into pieces the size of my fingers!” said Zem’s voice, from behind us.
We turned around. Zem stood panting a few feet away.
“I didn’t hear you,” said Moor. “I’m disappointed with myself.”
“We made enough noise. But you were distracted by sparring with Mariska. If I fall in love someday, must I contest every point with my mate as you do?”
“If so, you’ll have my sympathies,” said Moor.
“And mine as well,” I said. “But I encourage you, anyway. Find a tall Soom Kali woman when you get back and have the tallest children on the planet.”
“I was feeling better and came to see you off.”
We climbed down a slope and sat along the rocky banks of a river.
“It must be nice to have a home,” I said wistfully. “It’s odd to think of people having a home, here where we don’t belong. It’s very pretty.”
“What, do you grow timid?” said Zem. “Who comes to a strange land for a home and not adventure? That doesn’t mean I like adventure, but unlike you I don’t wish for what cannot be.”
“What I really would wish is only to stay with Moor forever, even when he only walks from one end of a room to the other,” I said, following the Bakshami ritual once more. “He’s my universe now. Nothing in the world matters to me except Moor. My love for him dwarfs my love for my dogs and for my family.”
“How long must I tolerate these ritualistic lies?” said Moor. But he spoke with the satisfaction I used to see in my parents as they bantered.
“Until they become the truth,” I said.
“Ah, you mean to say I must engage in the ritual with you in order to end the ritual.”
I turned to Zem. “Who has merit here?”
Zem sighed and watched the water. “Being with you two has made me realize I don’t understand merit when it comes to love.” Zem threw several pebbles into the water, and we watched the ripples. “I’ve become more Artroran than Soom Kali,” he mused.
“In Soom Kali we don’t disturb a stone unless we plan to use it,” Moor explained.
“Look here,” said Zem. “Let’s make it twenty-four sunrises. If there is danger I must leave, but not before then. And you must not hesitate to abandon me as well if I’m not at the ship within that time. The Formans’ weapons are as good as anyone’s.”
He tripped over a rock and good-naturedly laughed it off. “Ah, the rocks get their revenge,” he said. He was disarming when he wasn’t lying. Because his engaging qualities and his lying lived side by side, each seemed more potent.
Zem and Moor hugged passionately, and we watched Zem walk off with his bags. He made surprisingly little noise as he traversed through the greenery.
“He loves you more than I do!” I said.
Moor and I sat and watched the lively river, reluctant to start our journey. Instead we sat and ate dried meat and hard bread. Such a meal would have seemed satisfying enough while I trekked through the desert; in this new land it seemed barely palatable.
3
We followed the first road we came upon and reached a town at nightfall. On many roads someone stood in plain dress, just watching, and we learned that these people were there to watch for law-breakers. At five inns we offered to work for a room, but two innkeepers told us they were full because of some sort of town celebration, and three told us they didn’t take “partials.” They told us this politely enough, but suspicion clouded their eyes. So we spent our second night in Forma sleeping outside behind an inn. We’d inquired about a driver but had been told there were few people who would work for partials, especially partials who owned only a few provisions with which to pay for a driver. Apparently a minuscule minority of partials had sufficient funds to purchase other partials, but one look at us told all onlookers that we were not among the privileged—if it was a privilege to buy another human being. The person who told us all this chastised us for speaking only Artroran and not bothering to learn Forman. She said the “best” partials were the ones who learned the language. In this crowded land where lived the greatest enemies my people had ever known, perhaps I would find the guidance of which my grandfather once spoke. I could smell something sweet and grainy, and felt sure a dead Bakshami lay nearby; but it turned out to be baking nearby. The food the Formans cooked smelled like death!
For several days we walked through town after town, our strong legs never tiring. There were few motorsleds—only people authorized by the state could own them. Apparently, the government made people buy licenses for motorsleds, pay taxes for owning property, and even buy licenses for owning dogs!
There were amazing places in this sector where there were nothing but roads, curling and tying into each other in complicated and beautifully symmetrical patterns, up and down and past fields and forests lit only by the moons at night. In the towns, we saw inns and fueling stations with lots lit in purplish lighting that seemed to wash away color. But for some reason I found those colorless lots rising out of the darkness poignant. Like the plain lights in the immigrant sections of Artroro, these purplish lights of Forma seemed to symbolize a struggle to me, against what I didn’t know. But such a struggle might mean both dejection and hope, and that’s what moved me. I couldn’t understand why these people we saw, most of whom possessed only a perfunctory hostility toward us, would want to destroy my sector. What I saw didn’t fit with what I had hated all this time.
These were simple, albeit rigid, people, who worked incessantly and didn’t have time to worry much about world affairs. There were a surprising number of Bakshami refugees living here. We asked all the Bakshami we met for news of my parents, but many were scared to talk to us, and the rest knew nothing. Of course all of them were only partials, none full citizens, though there were rumors of interbreeding. Through odd jobs and overheard conversation we learned that the planet Artekka was becoming more dangerous all the time. Artroro and Forma had officially joined forces, turning the formerly unimportant sector of Forma into one of the most powerful sectors on the planet. There were four important alliances now forming. The strongest, led by Artroro, also had the greatest expansionist tendencies. The weakest, led by a kingdom called Cassan, consisted mostly of a group of monarchies with delusions of superiority. The third was a small and mysterious alliance headed by Ou-Nal, or Land of the Fish. The inhabitants of this dominion were rumored to be the only people on our planet not descended from the inhabitants of the Hooded Galaxy. The people of Ou-Nal supposedly descended from an amphibious tribe a hundred galaxies away.
The fourth alliance of Artekka, led by the formidable armies of Soom Kali, was the second strongest, thanks to the size and courage of Soom Kali’s warrior tribes. Artroro and Soom Kali were moving closer to one of their always fearsome wars, and Soom Kali was seeking to strengthen its alliances.
Several Bakshami had told us that there was a farm in a certain section of Forma that hired Bakshami servants. At one time or another, many Bakshami passed through there. We headed immediately to the farm.
After walking for a few hours one night through hilly darkness, Moor and I came to a shop. The purplish lights, after all that darkness and foliage outside, seemed to signal the entrance into a small store, a half-life world of what turned out to be containers of every size, shape, and texture: hard containers, round ones, malleable, rigid, shiny, bright and plain ones. One whole aisle of the store was devoted to medici
nes for every disease and its opposite—oily skin and dry skin, fatigue and an overabundance of energy, constipation and diarrhea, too much fat and too little fat. While many of the people we’d encountered certainly had the pasty look of ill health about them, I didn’t see how the populace could have one disease while it also had the opposite. The store taught me much about this culture, and how lost it was. And yet this culture possessed the strength to destroy mine.
With funds from odd jobs, mostly involving personal servant work for me and lifting work for Moor, I bought meat and dried fruit, which I felt quite addicted to. But we tried not to spend much money, even though there were consumer laws stating that you must spend at least half of the money you earned, with a large portion of the rest of your money going to taxes and licenses.
Though Forma was one of the more crowded sectors, most of the people lived in cities where employment could be found. Sometimes we didn’t see another person for long periods of time, yet even when we went through the smallest towns all the shops were open, with a few lonely motorsleds huddled around. Often Moor and I walked silently. As we walked I spent all my time thinking about my parents, going over everything they’d ever said and their expressions and gestures as they said it, and every so often I’d remember something new.
The Glass Mountains Page 20