Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

  The Maestro hesitated a half-second, then laughed. “Maybe our man Caminos is more hopeful.” “We’ll find out. What I couldn’t tell you a few minutes agosorry, I had company-is that ‘Piscene’ has a meeting with Caminos tomorrow night.”

  “Hah. Good work.” “I’m not working for you, Maestro. Technically, this is a Homesec gig.” Although I’m not so sure about that, anymore.

  “Whatever you say. Good luck with all that.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. And thanks for the suit.”

  * * * “I don’t know how long I can stand this,” Holder told Ardan, although, inside himself, he heard the real answer: As long as I have to.

  “Annah’s hurting too, Holder.” Holder envied Ardan’s ability to interact with Annah. Since she’d been Promised to Jonan, Holder was forbidden to visit her at the Temple of Promise. Holder knew that if Jonan suspected Ardan’s allegiance to him, he’d never have allowed Ardan’s visits either. But as one of her own kind, and a member of Annah’s Grove-like Jonan himself-he was permitted.

  “How is she?” Holder asked. “She is miserable without you,” Ardan said. “She barely eats, barely speaks. She says that she would not speak at all, but for the fact that her silence seems to make Jonan angry. I believe she fears he would strike her if she refused even to acknowledge him.”

  “That bastard. I want to kill him,” Holder said, his fist clenched.

  “That would solve nothing,” Ardan said. “You would be killed, or at the least, imprisoned. That will not help Annah.”

  “But she’s in prison. It must be torture for her. And it’s because of me.” “You must not think that,” Ardan said. “And you must try not to be angry. Annah says that the First Ones nearly always test the bonds of love, to see if they will break or hold. She says this is the time of Testing, for both of you. She told me to tell you that she loves you, and that she is yours, no matter what Jonan, or the Grove, or the Old Ones, or the First Ones themselves say. She asks that you not give up on her.”

  “Like I could ever do that,” Holder said. “How much longer does she have to be in the Temple?”

  “Five days. That’s when the formal Ritual of Promise will take place.”

  “What have you found out from those law books we borrowed from Moren’s parents?” “Very little,” Ardan said. “But there is something. From what I have read, Annah cannot be Promised to anyone without her parents’ approval-or, at the very least, their knowledge. In other words, Annah’s parents have to be awakened, or none of this can go on. Or, if it does, nothing about it will be binding in the sight of the Grove.”

  “This might be what we need,” Holder said. “I am certain Jonan does not know of this,” Ardan said. He believes it is merely a matter of his will, and his desire to bend Annah’s will to his own.”

  “Then she needs to know,” Holder said. “I wish I could go, but it’d better be you. And you’d better be sure Jonan’s nowhere in earshot.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Ardan said. “I’ll go in the morning.”

  * * * Why do you not answer me, Holder? Annah thought. He had had no trouble hearing her thoughts before, at their camp. Perhaps it is because we are further apart, now? Perhaps Jonan has been drugging me; suppressing my mind. Perhaps it is only that I miss Holder; that sometimes I despair of ever seeing him again.

  She wondered for a moment if Holder might have let his own despair overwhelm him. He was not dead; she would know if that had happened. Do not give up, my Holder, my dearest. We will get through this. This Testing will end.

  * * * They called this a Temple, Ardan thought, and they call those stationed outside Acolytes, but does a Temple need guards? And is that not, truly, what they are? Ardan thought of the many bond-pairs who had been brought here to be Promised since he’d been a bloomling. For a short time, he had wondered if he and Annah might themselves be such a pair, one day. There is another, somewhere, who waits for me, and when this is done, or, perhaps, somewhere along its course, I will find her. For now, I must do this for my friends—and for the will of Spirit in my own life.

  Ardan only barely recognized the two Acolytes at the gate of the temple. They were from his Grove, but they were older than he and Annah, or even Jonan. They seemed to recognize him, though. “Greetings, Ardan,” the taller of the two said. “Are you here to see Jonan, or his promised one?”

  She has a name, still, Ardan thought. “I am here to see Annah.”

  “Very well. She is inside. She may be resting. But she is inside. First Ones bless you.” Resting? thought Ardan, when he saw Annah coming to meet him. She looks as though she has not rested in two cycles. The colors that usually pulsed and shimmered beneath her skin were muted, and her skin as a whole looked grey. Her eyes were red and watery, and she moved slowly, as an Old One might. She hugged him tightly, though.

  “It is so good to see you, Ardan,” she said, her voice low, whether because she was tired or ill, or merely because she was afraid of being heard, he could not say for sure. But he did not like it, a bit. “It is fortunate that Holder is not here,” Annah said, “to see me like this.”

  “I am glad to see you too,” Ardan said. “But it is true that you do not look well.” “That is hardly a surprise, Ardan,” Annah said, tilting her head the way she often did when she was teasing. He even thought he saw a bit of a smile. “I am not well. But I am bearing it as best I can. How is Holder?’

  “He hurts, too. But he has turned his hurt into anger. It helps him, I think. I wish you could do the same.” “I am angry, Ardan. But Jonan can be violent, easily enough. And so I must not be, if I can avoid it. But let me assure you, whatever Jonan thinks of me, I am not weak. And I will only be pushed so far.” Annah looked at the doorway. “I do not know how much time we have. Tell me what you and Holder have planned. I know him, and I know he will have a plan.”

  “Jonan is arrogant, and he does not know the law,” Ardan said. “The Ritual of Promise requires your parents’ permission. And that means they must be awakened. It is within Jonan’s skills, certainly, but-”

  “I will do it,” Annah said. “I will awaken them. And I will tell them what he is.”

  “When will you do this?” “I would go now, but he could be in the Grove, even now. I will wait, until he thinks I am asleep. I will wait, until he does not expect. I have rarely done what is expected of seed-maidens, after all.” She smiled. “So why should I start now?”

  Why indeed?” asked Ardan. He studied Annah’s stilltroubled face. “You should eat, Annah. Does he not bring you food?”

  “I do not hunger, much,” Annah said. “And I do not want his food. I have the sunlight through the windows, and the guards do not trouble me if I go out into the light for a time. There is water to drink. And while I could use food, I am fine.”

  “Is there something I could do for you?” Ardan asked.

  “Could you-could you bring Holder here?” She sighed. She had nearly been too afraid to speak the words.

  “I do not know,” Ardan said. “But perhaps, if he is not here, I will try. It cannot be tonight, though.”

  “I know,” Annah said. “Just try.”

  “I will. You remember the law. Go to the Grove. Awaken your parents. That is the best hope you and Holder have.”

  “You should go,Ardan. Tell Holder I love him.”

  “He knows,Annah.”

  “Tell him, anyway. I am glad you came, Ardan. You are a good friend.”

  “I shall always be.” “What do you have for me, Piscene?” Caminos’ question made Goodman a little nervous. Icy cool, he told himself. Only way this is gonna work. The ghost-suit was doing its work, that was for sure. “Jupe-flu seemed to work pretty well.” State the relatively obvious; hope he doesn’t pry too much—-that’s the ticket.

  “Good. How’d the space trash take it? The ones who didn’t die, I mean?” Caminos laughed, a sound as ugly as a man’s boot kicking a dog.

  Only space trash here is you, Goodman thought. “They’re being
quiet for now,” he said.

  “Good. Let me know if that changes.”

  “Will do, boss. You get anything else for me?” “Maybe so, Piscene,” Caminos said. “Maybe so. Gonna see how things heat up, give it a couple days, and then maybe I’ll have another delivery for you.”

  “All right. Just let me know.” Hurry up and wait, thought Goodman, on the short elevator ride up to the suite that Caminos apparently kept waiting for Piscene. Guess it pays to be the king, eh, Caminos? Even the king of Nowhere.

  One of the notable features of Caminos’ private little paradise was that all the rooms were soundproof. All the phone lines and computer connections were supposedly encrypted too, but Goodman was fairly sure Caminos managed to hear everything anyway. Not going to make it easy for him, though. Goodman hardly ever used a public ‘com line anymore, and he didn’t think Erewhon was a good place to break that habit.

  “Vice-Commander?” Sounds like he’s still in bed, Goodman observed. Four AM already at Homesec Central. He’s slacking. “Wakey-wakey.”

  “Nice one, Goodman. I’ve been awake, for your information. I’ve been awake all night.”

  “What’s happened?” “Should’ve known the ET’s weren’t gonna sit still. Suicide bomber from out near the Magellan Cluster-tough customers out there; ice moons n’shit, you know-sneaked a briefcase bomb through the gates at Homesec. Dirty bomb. Radiation bomb. We’re trying to figure out how someone might have known the Commander was giving an inspection today. And we’re trying to keep all this from blowing up.”

  What a shitstorm, Goodman thought. “How’s the old man?” Commander Reynolds was only in his mid-forties, but the term ‘old man’ was a mark of respect, and it had stuck. He’d risen through the political ranks faster than most, and had taken office when he was just thirty-six.

  “He’s sick, Goodman. He’s really sick. But the hope is, he’ll pull through. If not, there won’t be any keeping back a full-scale war. That’s not what the old man would want, though. The other problem’s that we don’t know who the real enemy is. And we know how hard that makes it to fight a war.”

  “Well, then. Keep all the diplomats busy, and let’s hope like hell we don’t have to fight one.”

  * * * Jonan is beginning to believe he is safe, Annah thought. She had done what she could to strengthen that impression. She no longer mentioned Holder, and she was pleasant to him when he spoke of the upcoming Promising ritual, as he had that very evening.

  “It is going to be magnificent,” he told her. “The whole Grove has been working and planning toward it.” The whole Grove, Annah thought, except for Ardan and perhaps Moren. Who knows? They cannot all think like you, Jonan. “I am glad to hear it, Jonan,” she forced herself to say.

  “Are you truly?” “I am,” she said. Even if it is not in the way you imagine. I am always glad for any cause that can bring this Grove together—even a wrongful one.

  I would be glad to do anything that would increase your happiness,” Jonan told her, his smile actually looking, for once, like something other than a sneer.

  Then let me go, or kill yourself, she forced herself not to say. “Thank you, Jonan.” “Are you hungry, Annah? We have been given gifts of food: there is fresh fish, caught in the stream in the late morning; there are sweetglobes, a dish of varied grasses from the flatlands, and some freshly-baked bread.”

  To her surprise, Annah’s stomach gurgled. It will be good for me to eat. Holder would want me to eat. “Has the fish been fired? I do not much care for raw fish.”

  “It has, Promised One.” The endearment almost robbed Annah of her appetite. “Cut me two slices of the fish, and bring me some of the grasses and one of the sweetglobes. If you would, Jonan.”

  “As you wish.”

  He thinks he cannot fail, she thought, and waited for him to bring the food. After they had finished their supper-”a most satisfying meal,” she had told Jonan, and meant it—he had wanted her to lie down with him, beside the fire.

  “I am not tired,”Annah said.

  “Will you lie down with me, even so?”

  “I will,” she said. Long enough for you to fall asleep, and then I will go to the Grove, and do what I must do. Please, Holder, forgive me. I do this for us.

  They lay on their sides, him in front of her. “Annah,” he asked, “will you not hold me?” She started to refuse, thinking of Holder. How he would hate this. He might even hate me for doing it. No, she told herself. He would understand. First Ones, let Jonan be content with this, and not ask me for more than I will give, more than I can give any man but one.

  Annah let her arms wrap around Jonan’s chest, remembering the times she had lain like this with Holder. Strange, how two touches can be entirely different. Even Jonan’s scent set her on edge. He had the smell of anger about him; the scent of someone driven to stand above all those around him, or to convince himself he did.

  It had not always been so. When they were bloomlings, there had been none of this fierce possession to his every touch, his every movement. Then, she had been glad to have him touch her. The Change that came over all who walked the path of Becoming had not been kind to Jonan. He had become a colder, crueler person than he had been, and Annah sensed he could become colder and crueler still. I wish you were not this way. I wish you were still the boy I knew; my playmate from the Grove. Then you might understand, and let me go. I can never love you, Jonan, but we might have still been friends.

  After a few more moments, she knew he was asleep. She slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

  “Annah,” the Acolyte stationed at the gate asked her, “Are you all right?” Do not try to pretend you care about me, she thought. “I am fine. I am going to the Elder Grove, to listen to the Old Ones.” The acolyte said nothing else. It was, after all, within her rights.

  The Elder Grove. Among Annah’s people, a grove was many things: it was one’s extended family, and extended family-parents, siblings-if one had any-and the young ones who had been bloomed and born nearby, and their parents. Annah’s grove-Laughing Waters Grove, named for the stream that ran nearby-was the only one she knew of for quite a distance, but she had heard there was a large one in the flatlands, at least a day’s journey away. A grove could also mean a place for rest and meditation; a place to sleep and renew one’s life. Such was the Elder Grove, the place where the Old Ones slept.

  Annah shivered as she stepped into the grove, trembling almost down to her feet. I have not been what a seedmaiden customarily is. I have not kept my thoughts on the soil; on the root and stem. I have not sought a partner to bring my buds to bloom, but I have found one, nonetheless. And-I am sorry, my elders, my ancestors-my mother and father. He is not what my kind would have him be, either. But he is mine. And I will not give him up.

  “Why do you tremble so, my child; my Annah?” Annah drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. She tried to still the shaking in her legs. “Mother-oh, Mother, I did not mean to awaken you.”

  There was a sound of laughter from the wooded deep. “But of course you did. I am not angry, my daughter, my heart. I love you. And I know why you are troubled.”

  “You-you do?”

  “Yes,” her mother’s voice said, somewhere nearby.

  “Do not fear, daughter. Come and put your arms around me. All things will be well, Annah. All things.” Put my-Oh. Annah remembered some of the training she had learned from the elder Shapers of the Grove. She reached out to the tall, slender tree, stroking it with her hands, then wrapping her arms around it. The bark of the tree pulsed beneath her fingers, warming to her touch. Softly, she began to sing, pressing her face against the bark, which had begun to warm further. Annah thought of her earliest memories of her mother, holding her in her arms, as she danced with her around the council fire in the Grove, at the ceremony honoring the first Cycle since Annah’s birth.

  Annah sang her love and her memories into the melody. She felt the tree-bark softening beneath her touch, splitting and flaking
away like the cocoons the not-birds in the forests sometimes spun when they did their own cycles of sleep and change. Here and there, she saw a rainbow flash from beneath the bark as tree-skin gave way to reveal flesh like Annah’s own. She closed her eyes, letting the song melt from memories into a pure flow of love and thanksgiving. She opened her eyes again in her mother’s arms.

  Annah’s mother was tall and slender, as the tree had been. She had small, round breasts, like Annah’s, but a rounder waist and hips than Annah’s own. Her face was also rounder than Annah’s, and from it shone two eyes of mingled gold, brown and green, the color of trees embraced by sunlight. “Hello, my Annah,” her mother said, strong, slender arms pressing her into an embrace.

  “Hello, my mother,” Annah said. “I have missed you so. I love you.”

  “I love you too, my daughter. And I have missed you just as much. But I have been watching.

  “W-watching?” Annah asked. “Yes,” her mother, whose name, if human ears could have heard it, would have been Danae, said. “So, let us awaken your father together, and then you can tell us what has happened in our rest. Many things, I think, and not all good.”

  “Many things, yes,” Annah agreed. “But let us wait until I can tell you both.” Then mother and daughter lifted song and affection in a single current, and some might have thought it a wonder that all those who took their rest in the Elder Grove did not awaken to join them.

  But only one other awakened: Annah’s father, Llew, who was broad-shouldered and thick-limbed, as had been the gnarled tree that was the cradle of his rest. His hair hung past his shoulders, thick and brown like the moss that had covered the bark that had sloughed off his flesh only moments before. His eyes were the brown of soil, and deep like the Memories of his grove, his race. They were filled with kindness and love as he looked at his mate and his daughter, but there was care and pain in them as well.