Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

  “I love Holder, Ardan,” said Annah. “I know you will not understand. I am strange, it is true. But I have always been strange.”

  “You have,” Ardan said, and they both laughed. “Very well. I accept that you love this foreigner—thisHolder-of yours. But why come to me? Surely you do not need my approval?”

  Annah laughed and shook her head. “I do not. I came to you because I am going to give Jonan an answer to his question. I am going to tell him yes.”

  Ardan looked horrified. “What?”

  Annah nodded. “I am going to say yes. Jonan and I will be Promised.” Ardan put his hand on her arm. “ Annah. You cannot do this. You love another. You belong to another. Why would you do this?”

  “Because she’s crazy, Ardan,” Holder said, stepping into the clearing from the place on the path where he had been waiting for them to finish talking. “But you knew that already.” Holder smiled at the youth.

  Ardan looked like Annah, Holder thought: the same pale, iridescent skin, the same large, oval eyes, although Ardan’s were a deep green, the color of the forest grove they stood in. He was a good deal taller than Annah was, too; nearly as tall as Holder himself. Like Annah, he wore no clothes, a practice Holder was still finding it hard to become accustomed to, and he noticed that, also like Annah’s, Ardan’s body was completely hairless except for the thick, long shock of hair on his head, which in Ardan’s case was black.

  Holder stood next to Annah and offered his hand to Ardan. “Hello, Ardan. I’m Holder. Gary Holder, but you can just call me Holder. Annah does, unless I make her angry.”

  Annah’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. A wide smile came over Ardan’s face, and he and Holder both burst into laughter. Annah, however, did not smile. “I am surprised that you would be amused at such things,Ardan.”

  She turned to Holder, her face still expressionless. “And you. You may find it very cold tonight, sleeping by our fire alone.” She turned her face from him for a measured moment, then let herself go, and turned back to him, laughing. Holder hugged her.

  “Much to my surprise,” Ardan said, “It is very good to meet you, Holder. I cannot imagine you are happy about this.” “I’m not. But as I’m sure you know, once Annah decides something, it is very hard to change her mind.”

  Ardan looked at Annah for a moment. “This is very true. But I still wonder-Annah, why do you do this? Why Promise yourself, or even pretend to Promise yourself, to a man you do not love?”

  “To keep him safe,” she said, looking up at Holder. “You know that there are those who hate his people, still.”

  “But he has done nothing,” Ardan said. “Nothing that I have not allowed,” Annah agreed. “Do you really think that Jonan could harm either of you, just because of a mating-choice?”Ardan asked.

  “Jonan does not see things as you do, nor as I do,” Annah said. “He is a creature of the root. He follows the laws of land and Grove to a fault. At least you see allowances for the calling of Spirit within the law. She looked sad for a moment. “My faults lie in the opposite direction from Jonan’s. I have done this, and I must pay whatever price is required.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Holder said. “I’m not some goddamn puppet. Annah, we made these choices, you and me. We’ve done what we’ve done. But I couldn’t have chosen not to love you, even if I tried.”

  The admission struck silence into the three of them for a moment, and then Annah replied. “Nor could I, Holder.” She looked to Ardan, then back to Holder. “There have been others who loved me, who would have cared for me, and given me a good life, in their way. You are, perhaps, not the wisest choice. But I am not wise, and you are my only choice.” She brought her head to rest against his chest, and closed her eyes.

  “I love you too, Annah,” Holder said, in a voice that was almost a whisper.

  Annah opened her eyes and looked at Ardan. “I am sorry, Ardan. I do not mean to hurt you.” Ardan reached out to caress Annah’s hair. “I am not hurt. I know you were never meant for me. But still I want to know, how can Jonan coerce you; threaten the one you love, just because of love itself?”

  “There are matters of law as well, to which Jonan’s mind, or his pride, will admit no exceptions.”

  “What laws?” Ardan asked.

  “You know that a seed-maiden and a seed-youth may not join before the Age of Choosing.”

  “Oh, that.” Ardan frowned. “You know that it still happens, in Grove and field alike.” “That is true, Ardan, and when it happens in passion, or even in play, carried too far, that is fine enough. But such things are not always taken as lightly where females are concerned, as with males, and I will not intentionally disgrace my Grove, my parents, or the one I love.”

  “I think she’s got her mind made up, Ardan,” Holder said, meeting Annah’s eyes for a moment.

  “That is clear,” Ardan said. “So, while I appreciate the visit from an old friend, I must ask again: Annah, why are you here?”

  “I came because I wanted you to meet Holder, for one. I wanted you to know him, not just the stories that are bound to be told.” She stopped for a moment. “I also wanted to ask for your help-in case we need it.”

  Ardan nodded. “If you need it, you will have it.” Annah embraced Ardan, pressed her cheek against his for a moment, and then released him. “Thank you.” Then, she stepped back to Holder’s side.

  “Goes for me too, “Holder said. “Thank you. You’re all right, Ardan.”

  Ardan looked puzzled, but took Holder’s outstretched hand anyway. “Thank you,”Ardan said.

  “We should be going,”Annah said.

  “Be safe,” said Ardan. “Both of you.”

  * * * This mess is going to be hard to clean up , Goodman thought. If it even can be cleaned up. The Embassy didn’t look like an embassy anymore. It looked like a crime scene, complete with yellow-tape barriers, bloodstains of various colors, and oh, yes-bodies, all in various states of disrepair. In wartime, thought Goodman, you got used to death. There, death was just furniture; commonplace, like a coffee-stained couch, or a scrunched-up beer can in the recycle bin. But here-in a place like this? This was something Goodman didn’t know if he’d ever get used to. The cop who was waiting for him over in the corner didn’t look like he’d gotten used to it, either. “Kale Goodman,” he said, shaking the cop’s hand. “Homesec Central. You Singer?”

  The cop nodded at him. New guy. Not much younger than me, but he’s just getting started. Goodman assessed. Got a lot of soul left in him. Hope he can hold on to it. This kind of work, Goodman thought, ate innocence for breakfast.

  “Yessir,” the young cop said. “Eric Singer.” “You got any leads on the perp yet?” Goodman asked. “Homesec’s worried about this. This is just the kind of thing that tends to blow up in a bad way.”

  “Only one. The carrier who brought the virus into the building was pretty hardcore. Wore one of those ghost-suits that can make you look like anybody. He’d scarred up his face, too-looked like some kind of gang initiation job. Hard as hell to identify, but DNA doesn’t lie. Name was Thomas Turner-though he usually just went by ‘Old Tom’.” Singer laughed, a dry sound that might have been a cough, but wasn’t. “Wasn’t any older than you, though. Sick thing is, Goodman-this guy was a doctor. The good kind-at least it always seemed that way. He ran a free clinic, down in Scattertown.”

  * * * “I have to go to him in the morning,” Annah told Holder, who was piling wood and brush into the night’s fire. “Three days is customary for such a thing, but he will not wait longer.”

  “I’m surprised he’s waited this long,” Holder said.

  “So am I.”

  “Do we really have to do this?” Holder asked. “I am afraid we must-” she sang a short, lilting phrase, a word Holder hadn’t heard before, for it was a sound he would have recognized.

  Strangely, he realized he knew it had referred to him. “What was that you called me?” he asked.

  “My dearest,” Annah said. He
smiled, took her hand, and drew her down beside him, before the fire, into the pallet of pillows and blankets they had brought from Holder’s ship. He slipped an arm around her as she lay back against him, wrapping one of her legs around his.

  “I promise you, Annah,” he said, “We’ll find a way to get through this. And if he hurts you-” “I know you will come for me. This is but a storm to be endured. When the First Ones send the rains, the trees whose roots are planted deep remain. This tree-”Annah traced the outline of a great tree, much like the one that stood in the center of what he’d come to think of as her Grove-upon his chest-”our tree is young. But its roots are planted deep, and it will stand.”

  * * * Scattertown. Greatest place in the world to get lost, thought Goodman. It wasn’t really a town, of course; more an assembly of tents and stalls a few blocks east of Homesec Central Headquarters. This had pretty much always been a bad place, Goodman thought, just not as bad a place as some.

  This was the sort of place where bad things would still look the other way if you flashed a badge. And then you could get things done.

  Scattertown was the place people fell to around here when they fell through the cracks—or when they jumped through them, as happened sometimes. Now, to figure out where I can find what I need. This place was like its name; things shifted here. One week, a stall or wagon of goods would be in one place; the next, it could have moved or disappeared entirely.

  There was one man, though, who kept track of all the changes, directing them as if he were conducting a symphony. Guess that’s why some smartass started calling him the Maestro. Goodman thought it sounded like the name of one of those cheesy villains in the hero-books they used to print back in the days when stuff still got printed. Everything’s all sparks and wires now. And nobody much wants to hear about heroes, anymore.

  “Kale Goodman,” said a wiry, young-looking man in ripped black denim jeans, a black shirt, and worn brown leather boots. He had a ruddy complexion, as if he stayed angry every second of his life, and long, curly black hair. “How’s business, Maestro?” Goodman asked.

  “Not quiet enough.”

  “Guess you know what I’m doin’ here, then.” “Yeah. Look, Goodman, I don’t know where he got that shit from. The Jupe-flu is basically a bioweapon. That’s dirty, dirty shit. I’d be dead in a dumpster somewhere if someone saw me sellin’ anything like that. Credits ain’t worth nothin’ if you’re too dead to spend ‘em.”

  “Kinda figured that. Not really what I’m here for. I want to know what you’ve got on the Human Preservation Front.” “That, I can help you with.” When Holder and Annah reached the Grove the next morning, Jonan was already there, waiting for them. Gathered with him stood a group of what looked to Holder to be nearly a hundred of Annah’s race, ranging from a few who were younger, some who were the same age as Annah and Ardan, and a few just a bit older, like Jonan.

  “I cannot believe this,” Annah whispered to Holder. “I cannot remember the last time I saw so many of us gathered in one place.” She caught sight of Ardan among them, standing slightly apart from the thick of the wood. He nodded to her.

  Jonan stood in the shadow of the tallest tree.

  Annah looked around her, and shivered.

  “What’s wrong?” Holder asked.

  “This is the Elder Grove; the place where the Old Ones sleep-all of those who are at rest. I am afraid, dearest.” Holder looked at Jonan; took in the haughty sneer on the seed-youth’s face. I’d like to beat the shit out of him, he thought. He felt the gentle touch of Annah’s fingers on his arm. Dearest, she said in his mind. Be calm. Remember, our roots are planted deep.

  I’ll do my best , he thought to her. “I see my Promised One has come,” Jonan said, loud enough for the whole assemblage to hear.

  “I am not your Promised One,” Annah said, although she knew that once the ceremony had been done, she would be, at least as far as the law was concerned. But only there, she thought.

  “Soon, though,” Jonan said.

  “I do not know why you are doing this,” Annah said.

  “Perhaps I do it to save you from yourself,” Jonan said, the sneer still on his face.

  Annah returned a cold stare. “The desire that drives you, Jonan, has nothing to do with my salvation.”

  “She does not want me,” Jonan said to the throng.

  Some news flash, thought Holder, and Annah had to muster her will to stifle a laugh, despite the situation. “She does not want me because she has already pledged herself to a foreigner.” There was no need for Jonan to explain further; most of those assembled looked to Holder. “This has never happened,” Jonan said.

  Holder’s resolve broke. “Maybe it’s never happened here! But how many offworlders ever come here? It happens on other worlds all the time. It happens on my world all the time.”

  Perhaps ‘all the time’ was a stretch, he thought, but it did happen, especially since the Portal had been opened-sort of an outer-space version of a superhighway. Now every world imaginable was right on Earth’s doorstep. That was a good and a bad thing, Holder thought. It had gotten Earthers used to the idea that they weren’t the only thinking, feeling life-forms in the universe, but it had brought the bigots out of the woodwork too, the ones still getting up in arms about ethnicity and gender, and couldn’t begin to handle the idea of people from whole other worlds. To hell with that, he thought, looking at Annah. As far as he was concerned, it was good.

  “Annah is not a bloomling of your world,” Jonan said.

  “I am not a bloomling of any world, or any sort, Jonan,” Annah said, “and I can speak for myself. “There is no law against joining with a foreigner. I know there is not. I know the customs of our people as well as you do.”

  “See what happens when a young one is left to her own ‘wisdom’”, Jonan asked the crowd, “without the guidance of her Grove?”

  “From what I see here, you do not want my opinion of this Grove’s ‘guidance’, or of its wisdom,” Annah said. “In any case, there are no laws that would forbid me to join with a foreigner, although many seem to think there are.”

  Those in the throng turned to look around them, and Holder read confusion on many of their faces. No law against foreigners. That’s my girl, he thought, and it made him smile.

  “That may be,” Jonan said, “but there is a law against one who has not yet reached the Age of Choosing joining with anyone.”

  Annah took a deep breath. “There was a time when this was true,” she said. “But it was a law made long ago, before the Breaking of the World, or the Restoration. In those days, there were so many of us in the world that each new one weighed heavily in the balance of life. That law was made to try to prevent”-Annah sang the word that Holder knew from the sound meant sex- “between seed-maidens and seed-youths who might be too young to understand that balance. It was a formality, never meant to forbid the joining of two hearts. Holder and I have done nothing to break the laws. Desire, Jonan, does not always have to equal action.”

  The murmur from the surrounding crowd had risen. Annah could see that Ardan had stepped through the throng in the confusion, moving closer to where she and Holder stood. She felt for Holder’s hand; gripped it as if her life depended on it.

  “You are wise in our laws, seed-maiden,” Jonan said. “Perhaps, then, you will remember that in matters of dispute, when a Promise was challenged, it was often decided by a rite of combat.”

  “The Breaking of our world came from such things!”Ardan shouted. “Have we not grown beyond such hatred?” “Some hatreds are just, Ardan,” Jonan said. “The Breaking of our world was caused by his kind.” He pointed an accusing finger at Holder. “Come forward, foreigner, and we will see if the First Ones favor your claim.”

  Annah stepped in front of Holder, as if to hold him back. “You must not do this, Holder.” Her eyes carried more an expression of command than of pleading.

  Hell, I’ve gone against orders before, Holder thought. Pretty sure sh
e has, too. “I’ve got to, Annah.” Ardan crossed to where they were standing. “Let me do this, Holder. You don’t know our world or our people. You don’t know the things some of us can do.”

  Holder looked at Annah, and then back to Ardan. “I think I know a little bit about this world, and about its people. And fighting is easy. No matter what world it is.”

  “It is too easy,” Annah said. “And I will not have it. Not about me. I will go with you, Jonan, if it will keep the peace.”

  Holder started toward her; began to speak. “And you,” Annah admonished him. “You will say nothing.” She finished the sentence in a whisper, and touched her finger to his lips. “This is not what I would choose to do, my dearest. But it is what we must do.”

  Jonan stepped down toward where Annah, Holder and Ardan stood.

  Just before Jonan reached them, Holder whispered to Annah, “I will not let this stand. I’ll find a way. I promise you.”

  “I trust you,” said Annah. “And I love you.”

  * * * Time slowed to an inexorable crawl for Holder in the moments it took Jonan to step to Annah’s side and take her hand in his. How can she stand this? For a moment, he had a morbid flash of one of the space boulders colliding just a little too closely with his ship, and a flash of blackness from which he would not awaken to see this moment. He thought, though, of the other moments he would have missed—both the ones he and Annah had already seen, and those they would see, in time. We will get through this, he heard her whisper, in the space in his mind where only he could hear.

  Annah felt Jonan’s fingers lace through hers, and they felt like cold bones brushing her skin, which, in that moment, seemed not to belong to her. She drew her mind up out of her body, letting feet and legs and belly and chest and arms and finally her head go numb and distant. If I must endure this, she thought, I will feel nothing. I will be nothing. He will have nothing. Ever. From somewhere inside the spreading blackness in her brain, Annah heard Holder’s voice reassuring her: We will get through this. She allowed her mind a slight return toward consciousness; saw the world around her the way she saw the world above sometimes when she swam, submerged, in the deep parts of the stream—-a distant and hazy source of light: visible, but untouchable.