Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

  Annah smiled at Holder. Indeed, she thought to him, and he had to stifle laughter. “Not all of us do that, though, Holderor at least, not often.” Annah said. “I think I knew when I was very young that my real connection would not be with anyone of my own kind, and so I played very little in that fashion with others. That might be one reason I have always been thought strange. I did mostly enjoy what little I did, though.” She giggled.

  “That confuses me, though,” Holder said. “I mean, back on Earth, there are all kinds of laws; actual legal laws and then also cultural or religious laws about who can have sex with who, who can be Promised or Chosen by who, how often they can have sex, at what age, and sometimes in what position-”

  “First Ones, dearest,” Annah said. “How ridiculous. And how boring.”

  They all laughed. “Your world probably has those laws because it is such a powerful pathway,” Serra said. “There are always going to be those who want to limit the ways people can reach above themselves. So they can be controlled.”

  “I agree with that,” Holder said. “That makes sense. But why is there an Age of Choosing here, if it’s different? In some ways, it’s just like back home.” Except for that whole thing of everyone running around naked, he thought.

  “Stay out of my head, you.” Holder grinned at Annah, who had giggled.

  “I will not,” she said. “You want me there.”

  “My point is,” Holder continued, “why put an age on people choosing a life-partner?”

  “You have answered the question yourself. You are quite skilled with Vision, Gary Holder.”

  Holder raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes, you are. Explain our ways to me. I am sure you know the reasoning.”

  This is your testing, Dearest, Annah said in his head. I know, he answered. “It’s about the connection,” he said aloud. “Not the sex, specifically. All sexual acts are pathways, of a sort, but the deepest physical connection possible for any two people—like, for example, me putting my-“

  “Bloom-stalk,”Annah said, her face suddenly flushed. “‘Bloom-stalk?’ Seriously? Anyway, like me putting my ‘bloomstalk’ into Annah’s blossom. That is the most direct pathway for that energy. For the two of us, anyway.” He thought of all the legal squabbles and skirmishes over same-sex unions and their rights that had plagued the twentieth and twenty-first centuries of Old Earth’s history, and the moral and spiritual debates that still continued. “Other people have other ways that are best for them.”

  “You are quite correct,” Serra said. “Now continue.” “If two people are to be life-partners,” Holder said, “it’s essential to make sure the emotional connection is right; that the relationship itself is right, before they bond themselves too closely on an energy/Spirit level.” I sound like one of them, Holder thought to himself. “I mean, it’d be terrible for a pair who really were bad for each other emotionally to have sex and get all glued together energywise, right?”

  “Correct,” Serra said. “I have seen it happen. Most unpleasant.” “I’ve probably seen it happen more than you have,” Holder said. “And yeah, it is. So I guess the idea is that if you keep the bloomstalks and blossoms apart when the people’s hearts and souls aren’t right for each other, it’ll save a lot of heartbreak.”

  “That is also correct,” Serra said. “It is also for the sake of the bloomlings that might come from from such a mismatched union. I am sure you know, when a union is wrong, it is the bloomlings who suffer most. But unions are for the joining of two spirits most of all, and there are those drawn together whose Joining could not, in any case, make new life. Our ways seek to keep them from pain as well.”

  “Yes,” Holder said. “Okay, well, that all makes sense. And these rules actually seem to work, as opposed to the whole ‘no bloomstalks and blossoms before Choosing at all’ thing they try to do back on Earth.”

  Annah laughed. “How would they ever think that would work?” “I have no idea,” Holder told Annah. “What I want to know, though,” he said, turning back to Serra, “is, why do Annah and I have to wait until our Choosing? A whole cycle?”

  Both Annah and Serra laughed. “I am sure Annah feels your pain as well,” Serra said. “Yet there are reasons. Tell him, Annah.”

  “Holder,” Annah said, “I want you very much. Sometimes, my blossom aches for you. But this is important. No one doubts that we are right for each other, anymore. But the laws are important, as you see. And we are Shapers, you and me. If we do not follow the laws, how should we expect others to?”

  Holder frowned, but nodded. “That makes sense. It’s annoying, but it makes sense.”

  “There is another reason,” Annah said. “I have seen it. I know you can, too.” Holder closed his eyes, and was suddenly shocked by the image of a universe shaken at nearly every edge by the holocaust of war. He saw Evohe, still untouched by the conflict-one of very few points of peace. Then he glimpsed himself and Annah, together in the stream; Annah squatting in the water; pushing, giving birth to their childchildren? he could not see for certain. Then the vision receded, but it had been enough.

  “I do not know what our child will be,” Annah said. “But I do know it must come at the right time. And I know that he or she-or theywill come.”

  Holder stumbled, sitting down hard on one of the stones at the circle’s edge.

  “Dearest?”Annah asked.

  “He is fine, child,” Serra said. “It is much to see, and much to learn, in only a few hours. I thank you for coming, Holder. Will you return to me when Annah does?”

  He nodded. “I will.” “Good,” she said. “Learning together will strengthen you. Now, I think you have much to talk about together. You should go.”

  These Evoetians, thought Holder, love understatements.

  * * *

  “I’m on my way planetside, Maestro,” Goodman said. “Is your place safe to meet?” “Safe as anywhere,” the Maestro said. “Dunno why you’d leave a sweet spot like Erewhon to come down here to this war zone.”

  “Erewhon got a lot less sweet before I left,” Goodman said. “I did get out of there with some hot stuff, though.”

  “I’ll be waiting when you get here,” the Maestro said. In the distance, on the far borders of Scattertown, Goodman could hear them: the sounds of a whole way of life tearing itself apart- footfalls, gunfire, screams and the occasional deadly descant of a descending mortar bomb or grenade. Maybe they think Scattertown’s dead already, Goodman thought. Or maybe they just don’t care.

  He made his way up the steps of the abandoned library, noticing as he went that the glass in one of the front windows had been smashed out. The Maestro met him as he came through the front door, and locked it fast behind him. “Ain’t necessarily gonna keep ‘em out,” he said, gesturing at the broken window, “but maybe it’ll do something. So what’d you bring back from Caminos’ little slice of paradise?”

  Goodman smiled. “Something he wanted ‘Piscene’ to bring down here and use on Homesec’s side of the war.” He pulled out the canister containing the ball of bright blue gas. “This is designed to exterminate nearly every Offworld species mankind’s even aware of. It’s a smart poison; a sentient virus that locks to chromosomes and disassembles the poor soul it bonds to, from the inside out. The residue in the atmosphere from the dispersal of just this much would render Earth uninhabitable to everything but human beings for god-knows-how-long.”

  “Holy shit,” the Maestro said. “Hey, Goodman, you sure this little marble’s a bad idea? I mean, we’re at war, right?”

  “Yeah, we are,” Goodman said. “But last time I checked, we were called the human race for a reason. Even a war oughta have rules.”

  “All right, all right. I guess you’re right. I never met any E.T. half as bad as some of the ‘humans’ I’ve seen. I sure don’t owe Homesec any favors.”

  “Good thing, too, Maestro. They ain’t gonna do you any.”

  “So, I know you didn’t j
ust come down here to show me the pretty,” the Maestro said. “So what can I do you for?” “I need a ship, Maestro. An unlogged, unmarked, hyperlight ship. One I can fly not just under the radar, but over and through it without attracting a tail.”

  “What’s so hot that you need that kinda ship for? Why not just stay here?” “ This can’t stay here, and neither can I. Caminos probably already knows it’s gone. That means the sand’s running out, right now.”

  “I’ll make some calls. Where you taking it?”

  “If I don’t tell you,” Goodman said, “you can tell ‘em you don’t know, and you won’t be lying.”

  “Good point. Let’s find you a ship.” * * *

  Gary Holder’s Journal, June 27th, Homesec Reckoning Year 250 This project, this journal, is important for a number of reasons. It’s important that people realize this war is wrong. Human beings aren’t the only creatures in the universe. They’re not even the best—nor are they the only beings that carry the qualities we call ‘human.’ Annah’s changed the way I think about all of that. She didn’t have to help me. I probably scared the hell out of her at the time. Her whole race has been programmed to think my whole race was responsible for wiping out her planet. People have hated others for a lot less. But she doesn’t. She has a better heart than that. A better heart than mine. She’s very intelligent, too, and she can be brave as hell. If those aren’t ‘human’traits, I don’t know what are.

  She’s changed how I see myself many times since we met. In five days, on the day of our Promising ceremony, that’ll be a year. Just this week, we learned that we are both Shapers-apparently, that’s a person who is able to help align other people-even animals, land, or who knows, perhaps even worlds, into proper balance with Spirit. Annah says that our children will be special, as well. It’s a lot to grasp, and I’m going on faith here, a lot. This journal helps. I haven’t been cataloguing Evohe so much in this journal, after all, as I have beenAnnah and myself.

  This world, though, is both old and new at the same timealso like us, in a way. It’s rediscovering itself; it’s been broken, and just because it’s physically whole now, that doesn’t mean it’s been healed. I should know that. Annah, myself, this world: we are all rediscovering ourselves. Now, if Earth could learn to do the same. Perhaps, if there is an Earth left when this war ends, we’ll have a chance.

  * * * The Maestro did good, Goodman thought. Trust a pirate to find a pirate ship. According to him, that was exactly what it was: an ultralight, heavy-cargo cruiser designed for long stays in space, and it came complete with a decidedly nonRegulation cloaking device. Also, he’d had the serial number and all other pertinent identifiers lasered off. That served two purposes: number one, it gave him the plausible cover of having been fired on by pirates, maybe somewhere on the Edge-and secondly, it made the ship near-impossible to trace. Once he got where he was going, that wouldn’t matter-but before he got there, it’d definitely come in handy.

  * * * I feel like I am dreaming, Annah thought. I feel as though, any moment, this is all going to end; this dream of a life with Holder, and the promise of our bloomlings and their future. It is all going to end, and I will wake up in this bed, not beside Holder, but next to Jonan again, and this time there will be no one to save me.

  She closed her eyes hard, opened them, and sighed. That was not how it was going to be. Jonan was dead, and he was recognized as the monster he had been. She and Holder no longer had to hide; they were free to be Promised, and in fact, tomorrow would be the day. And there would be nothing to stop or to sully it. She and Holder had talked again, at his suggestion, about the idea of having the Promising up on the hill beyond the Grove, at the heartplace.

  “It is a fine idea, beloved,” she had told him. “And yet I still think it is too soon. Too soon for the Grove as a whole to know about it. It would be better for Serra to tell them, once my training is done, and I do not know how long that will be. Be patient, love,” Annah said. “There is still time for it to be the place of our Choosing.”

  Holder was silent for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. I hate all this hiding sometimes. I thought it would be over, with him gone.”

  “It is almost over, dearest,” Annah said, reaching out and touching his face. How much had changed from the days when she had been afraid for him even to see her. “It does occur to me that there is a second reason to have our Promising near the Grove-”

  “In the place where you were Promised to Jonan,” Holder finished.

  “Yes,” Annah said. “There is a second reason, and, as Shapers, we cannot afford to ignore it.” Holder was still getting used to the idea that being a Shaper was something he was a part of now, too. “What is that, beloved?”

  “It is important that something right take place there, since it is also where a great wrong was done. It is important for Balance. Do you not think so, dearest?”

  “I do,” he admitted.

  And so, after that decision, work began in earnest on the plans for the Promising grounds. It would be different from what had been done for Annah’s Promising to Jonan, but it would nonetheless honor tradition. It had come as a surprise to Annah, but for four days now, planning had been the extent of hers and Holder’s involvement in their own Promising.

  Annah had awakened early on that first morning to the sound of something she had not heard in many cycles: the sound of voices raised in song. “Wake up, my dearest,” she whispered to Holder. “Wake up and hear.”

  What the hell? Holder thought, his senses shifting between a dim awareness of the singing and the sound of Annah’s voice.

  “Listen,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. It was a sound like that Holder had heard when Annah awakened the Elders, its cadence containing both music and language at once. The sound was something different— Annah’s right, Holder thought, not everyone on Evohe has the voice of a Shaper. But if the tones weren’t perfect; if they didn’t flow entirely as one, it wasn’t surprising, and it could be forgiven. From what Annah had said, something like this hadn’t happened in a long time. What Holder was struck by, most of all, was the joy of it. “Come on, beloved,” he said, grabbing Annah’s hand and pulling her up. “Let’s go say hello.”

  When Annah and Holder stepped out into the Temple’s courtyard, just beyond the gate, they were greeted by a throng of singers that looked even larger than it had from their window, when they hadn’t been able to see the full scope of the crowd. They continued to sing as Annah and Holder watched, smiling, their arms wrapped around each other.

  “ This is what I imagined a Promising would be like, dearest,” she whispered to him. As Annah listened, something stirred in her Memories, and a warmth spread through her. This was a traditional Promising song, one from before the world had been broken. She had a moment’s flash of her own parents lying in bed together, on a morning such as this, being serenaded by the same song. She felt tears well in her eyes.

  “I guess they don’t hate me anymore,” Holder whispered to Annah, not wanting to disturb the singing, which had risen in pitch, a great wave of counterpoint harmony between the soprano voices of the young females and the slightly lower, still-developing tenors of the young males.

  Annah kissed his cheek. “I do not think they ever did. I think they did not understand.” Finally the song fell to a hush, and Ardan and Kyrin stepped to the front of the crowd. “We dug that one out of some old books. We want today to be special for the two of you.”

  “You’ve already done that,” Holder said. “Well,” said Ardan, “we are not done.”

  “What do you mean?” Annah asked with a smile.

  “Telen, Meri,” asked Ardan, “did you bring the cart?” Telen, a dark-haired seed-youth whom Annah could recall having seen once or twice before, and Meri, who had green eyes and hair almost as dark as the midnight skies over Evohe (and who, Annah gathered from her body language as she walked with Telen, was likely to be his mate one day) came forward with a wooden cart bearing bread, frui
t, and what Holder noted with some interest seemed to be a number of small pastries. He watched Annah’s eyes widen suddenly, and her tongue play quickly over her lips. “See something you like?” he asked her.

  “Oh, yes,” Annah said. She turned to Telen for a moment. “Tell me, who made the-”she sang a brief phrase in Evoetian-?” Then, she turned back to Holder. “Meatpods,” she whispered. “They are delicious.”

  “Actually, Serra made them, Annah,” Telen said. “She said she thought you would appreciate them. I did not even realize you knew her.”

  “I didn’t even know you ate meat,” Holder said to Annah in a low voice. “You do not know everything about me yet, beloved,” she said to him, brushing his arm with her fingertips. “But it would be dreadfully tiring to be Promised, if you did.” Holder laughed. “So I should try these ‘meatpods?’”

  “Oh, you must. My mother used to make them, when I was very small.” “Would you like one of the pods, Annah?” Meri asked. “Perhaps your mate would like one, too? They’re very fresh. Serra was baking them before first-light, so she told me.”

  “Actually, I am suddenly quite hungry,” Annah said. “And your singing must have made you all a bit hungry as well, and tired. If you would like, Holder and I would love to eat with you.”

  “We would all like that, very much,” Meri said. Annah thought to herself, as several large blankets were spread out on the temple’s yard and trays were set with food and drink for all, that this was probably a very uncommon sight for a Promising day. I do not care, she thought. She knew that, in recent custom at least, the female of the Promised pair spent much of her day inside the Temple, meditating, and preparing herself inwardly for the ceremony, before the attendant seed-maiden chosen by her Grove came to help her ready her body, as Annah remembered Kyrin had been sent to do when she was to be Promised to Jonan. “Kyrin,” she asked, between bites of the meat-pods—which were most delicious-”may I ask a favor of you?”