Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

  “Yes,” Goodman said. “I couldn’t take it back to Earth, obviously. And I wasn’t going to leave it on Erewhon. They’d have just taken it to Earth, anyway.”

  “All right. I know you did what you thought was right. And maybe it is.” Holder sighed. “But your timing sucks, Goodman. And Annah’s going to kill me when she finds out about this.”

  “I’m sorry, man. It’s fucked up, because I didn’t know you, but I felt like you were the only friend I had.”

  “Well, I guess I’m your friend, all right.” Holder smiled. “Come on. We’ll talk about this later. I gotta go get Promised.”

  * * * “You look beautiful,” Kyrin said, putting the ceremonial circlet of flowers around Annah’s head. “I know that this is what the First Ones meant for you from the beginning. And I am sorry about—-about-”

  Annah shook her head and smiled, reaching out to touch Kyrin’s cheek. “What Jonan did to me had nothing to do with you. You could not have known. I should have known. If anyone is to blame, I am the one.”

  “Do not say that, Annah. No seed-maiden-no oneshould be treated that way.”

  “I still dream about it sometimes,” Annah admitted. “I hope Holder does not know.”

  “You should think about him,” Kyrin said. “And think about yourself. Jonan is dead. Leave him there.”

  “You are right,” Annah said. “He is where he belongs, and I am where I belong. Let us go. I am ready.”

  “Very well,” Kyrin said, and smiled.

  * * * “This place looks beautiful,” Goodman whispered to Holder. They stood in the field of the Promising grounds now, gathered with the others who had come to wait for Annah and her attendants to arrive, and for the ceremony to begin. And now, it was nearly sunset.

  “It does. They’ve done a great job. I guess it’s time for me to go do mine. I’ll see you after.”

  “All right then, man,” said Goodman. “And hey, congratulations.” Holder walked into the ritual ground that had been set up for the ceremony. It was like the one that had been set up for Annah’s Promising to Jonan, with one small, but significant change: it had been constructed with no separating border between the Promised pair and the gathering of onlookers. They were all, now, a part of what was happening. And that was how Annah and Holder had wanted it.

  She’ll be here any minute, Holder thought. Nothing’s going to get in our way now. Then he remembered what Annah had said to him when he left the Temple. What Vision could she have had? What distance could she mean?

  He thought of the weapon Goodman said he’d smuggled with him from space. It couldn’t stay on Evohe, could it? Maybe it could, though. No one knows this planet exists anymore, right? But who am I kidding. I know it’s here. Goodman knows. God only knows how many other people might have found out. Information isn’t that hard to get. Then, he saw a group of seed-maidens come onto the grounds; he caught sight of Annah, and forgot everything else.

  Her skin shone; a fluid prism of mingled light from the moon and the glowing torches that circled the perimeter of the Promising grounds. She’s probably been bathing all afternoon, Holder thought with a smile. A garland of white roses was wound through the gold curls of her hair. A different color than before. The bracelets on her wrists and ankles were the same color. God, she’s beautiful. Holder thought it was strange, how you could live with someone day-in and day-out, see every detail of their lives, and still, in a moment, see them as if it were the first time again.

  Annah didn’t speak as she let Kyrin lead her to stand across from Holder. She wasn’t supposed to speak; that’s what Tradition said. She hadn’t wanted to speak before, when she’d stood in this place with Jonan. She shuddered, and hoped Holder didn’t see. I can’t have him worrying; not today. And I do not want him to know that I cannot escape Jonan; certainly not here.

  Danae and Llew had come to the floor now. Llew stood beside Holder, while Danae moved next to Annah. They’d decided to do things this way because it was tradition that the parents of both Promised Ones be present, but Holder’s could not, and so it was agreed that Llew would sponsor Holder. We’ve come a long way, Holder thought. Maybe there’s hope for the mess back on Earth

  “Are you ready to speak your Promises to one another?” Serra asked. The ancient Shaper had been the last to arrive on the Promising grounds. No one had seen her until she stepped into the shadow of the gazebo. But she was here now, to do what was needed of her.

  “I am,” Annah said. “I have come to speak my Promise, and be bound by it.”

  Serra nodded. “That is good, seed-maiden.” Holder watched Serra’s eyes turn to him. Moment of truth, he thought. But he wasn’t afraid, and that was different. If it’d been anyone else, he would have been. But not Annah. This is where we’re both supposed to be.

  “And you?” Serra asked him. “Are you ready to speak your Promise?”

  Holder nodded. “I am.” He looked at Annah, and smiled. “I am ready to speak my Promise, and be bound by it.” Serra nodded. “That is well. Then, both of you, so speak, and so be bound. For this part of the ritual, there is choice, as there must always be choice in a Promise. Which of you will speak first?”

  “I will speak first,”Annah said.

  “Very well, seed-maiden. What Promise will you be bound by?” Annah turned away from Serra; looked into Holder’s eyes. She touched his face. He looks frightened, she thought. Dearest, I am frightened, too.

  “Dearest,” she said aloud, “I am frightened, too.” She watched the puzzlement in his eyes melt into awareness, and be replaced by a smile. “But I am not frightened of you. When I was alone, and we were strangers to one another, you gave your trust to me. In return, I trusted you. We planted our trust in the soil of one another’s hearts, and it has multiplied and grown beyond measure. Here, in this place, before these people, I Promise to you my love, and my continued trust. I Promise my faithfulness to you, and my acceptance of every strength and every weakness. I gladly take all that you are, and give you all that I am, in return. This I Promise you, Holder, for as long as I will live.”

  Holder took a deep breath, wishing for a moment he had a strong drink, although he hadn’t had a drink in ten years. Just talk to her, he told himself. Just tell her. Forget everyone else. It’s just her.

  “Beloved-Annah-you’ve always known what I was thinking; what I was feeling. But sometimes, you can’t know why. I’ve been here before. Not here, but I’ve given promises, and had them broken. Not by choice, but it still happened.”

  He reached out for Annah’s hand, not knowing if it was allowed in the customs of the ritual or not; not really caring. To his relief, Annah curled her fingers through his. “I’m not frightened of you, either, Annah. I’m afraid of how much I want to be everything you need me to be. Afraid I won’t be able to. I Promise to try. I Promise always to accept you. Always to share with you. And I Promise to love you—and that you won’t be alone, anymore.” That wasn’t very good, Holder thought. That was just fine, my dearest, Annah’s voice reassured him, in his mind. I love you, Holder. All you are is all I want.

  “And having spoken these promises,” Serra said, “are you both now bound by them, and bound to each other?” Annah could not remember anything she had said in the ceremony of Promise with Jonan. Whatever she had said, it had meant nothing. “I am bound by my Promise, and to my Promised One,” she said, looking at Holder.

  “And you?” Serra asked Holder, in a gentler voice than he was expecting.

  “I am bound by my Promise,” Holder said, “and to my Promised One.”

  “So you are bound. All of you, bear witness, and give blessing.” Holder had never heard a cheer so loud in his life. Annah opened her eyes in the darkness. She could feel Holder’s body, warm against her own; the hairs on his chest tickling her back, his arms wrapped around her, his legs tangled with hers.I did not dream this, she thought. You are still here, my dearest. We are still here. And perhaps we will not have to be parted again, as I have seen. Per
haps an action can change a Vision. Perhaps if I hold you tightly enough, the universe will not take you from me. She kissed the back of his neck.

  He stirred in his sleep. “Annah? Are you all right? Not another nightmare?” He does know. But I am not surprised. She had dreamed of Jonan off and on since what had happened. Mostly, they were just echoes; repeated memories. But she had had one dream a few nights before, in which she had seen Jonan get up from the floor where he had lain dead; seen him get up and—No, she told herself. I will stop this. They are my dreams. It is my mind. He is dead, and he has no power over me. “No, my dearest. I am simply awake. Although, I do not know how that is possible. You kept me up very late last night.” She laughed.

  Holder kissed her neck. “I don’t remember you complaining. Not that I was, either.” “Do you think we were heard?” Holder laughed. “Now, that’s a strange question, coming from you. You usually couldn’t care less, or so you’ve said.” He grinned.

  “I do not, I suppose. But it has been more than a few cycles since I did anything more than touch the petals of my own blossom within the hearing of others, particularly Old Ones.” Her voice dropped to a whisper with the last three words.

  Holder propped himself up on one arm, looking at her, and smiled. “You always find a way to surprise me. I don’t think they cared. If you remember, there was a lot of noise outside, too. It was our night, beloved.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Annah said. There had been a lot of noise, she thought with a smile. They had come back from the Promising grounds—all of them—and Annah had thought of what she’d wished for so often when she was small: to belong. As a bloomling, Annah had sat in the learning-circles with the others her age; had learned the language of her world—its music and its meaning; had studied the forests and the flatlands and all the life-kind in them—the scents, the smells, and tastes with which she was surrounded. She had learned about her body, about the bodies of others; the differences between seed-maidens and seed-youths, the cycles of life, and the way people were bloomed and born. But often, when the circles dispersed, she had crept back to the Elder Grove to hear the sleeping whispers of the ones who dreamed there; pressed her small body against trunks and her face into fragrant leaves; thought to herself, thought to the sleeping ones: teach me to belong. And they had taught her many things, but they had never taught her that. As hard as she tried, Annah’s dreams had always been haunted by starlight.

  The night before, when she and Holder had come back to the Temple with the others, their arms around each other, surrounded by the others, and their mingled scents and sounds, it had all seemed so effortless. Kyrin had come up beside Annah to congratulate her, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. They all told her they hoped they would be as happy one day, and then Ardan, standing close to Kyrin, had smiled and echoed the sentiment. The other seed-youths kept their distance, as was proper now, but Ardan had been a good friend, and he was Kyrin’s beloved, even though they still had no set plans for a Promising, themselves.

  There had been even more feasting, and some drinking of the fermented nectar from some sweetglobes. Annah smiled to herself, feeling Holder press closer to her in the bed, and remembered. The taste of the fermented juice had been sweet and strange; it had stung her tongue the way the rough skin of the dark-blue prickleberries that grew in the woods near the Elder Grove sometimes did, and it had filled her body head to toe with a tingling that excited her as much as it confused her.

  One of the seed-maidens-not Kyrin, though, Annah remembered—had begun singing, and then others had begun to sway and dance. Then Holder’s arms had been around her, and the scent of him, like the deep woods after a rain, had enveloped her.

  “Do you want to dance?” he’d asked her, in a whisper. “I do not really know how,” she had said, feeling as shy in that moment as she had before she had first let Holder see her. “Not with another, in any case.” She stroked his hand with her fingers. “When I was a bloomling, I would-” She stopped. “It is silly.”

  Holder had touched her face; stroked her hair in that way she had come to enjoy so much. “Tell me,” he had said. “I used to dance in the Elder Grove,” she said, “by myself, to the music in my head.”

  He had taken her face in his hands, and kissed her. I still do not understand everything he does, Annah thought. But even these little mysteries-I like them. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” he had told her, and they had danced.

  A few of the seed-youths and seed-maidens were singing together; songs Annah could only dimly recall ever having heard before. Then she happened to notice Goodmanhmm, him, of all people—stepping up, carrying a wooden git-arr like the one Holder owned-although this one was made of a darker wood, and looked newer. “This is a special request,” he said with a smile and began to play.

  After a few moments, the seed-youths and seed-maidens who were still gathered nearby picked up the strain of the song and began to join in. The slow air of the melody rose and fell like the wind through the tall trees in the grove.

  “You like that one?” Holder asked Annah, noticing the intent with which she listened.

  Annah smiled. “Yes. It reminds me of-of something. I do not know. But I like it.”

  “It sounds like a waltz, to me, that melody,” Holder said.

  “A what?”

  “Here,” he said, putting his arms around her. “Let me show you.”

  “What is that melody, Holder?” Annah asked, as they danced. “It’s an old song from Earth, early twenty-first century. A band called Fairport Convention recorded it. I don’t know; it’s always been a favorite of mine, even if there aren’t any words. And I like the title.”

  “What is it?”

  “‘Some Special Place,’” Holder said.

  “Oh,”Annah said. She smiled up at him. “I like that, too.” Annah did not know whether it had been the dancing or the drink, but she remembered Holder carrying her to bed, and kissing her, and she recalled having seen, silhouetted in the firelight as they passed, the forms of other seed-youths, seed-maidens and even many of the Old Ones kissing and embracing. Her Memories told her this was what always happened after a Promising. It is Life reminding itself of itself.

  Annah had felt as though everywhere Holder touched her, she was on fire, and the kisses he covered her with had done nothing to cool that heat. The music outside was louder now, and mingled with it were the soft sounds of laughter and loveplay. Her head was no longer hazed by the drink she’d had, but a golden blaze had risen in its absence, as bright as the light from the fire outside.

  “I want you, beloved,” Holder had said to her, against her ear, and she had felt the already-opened petals of her blossom moisten under his exploring touch.

  “I know,” Annah murmured. “I want you too. But we must wait-for that, in any case.”

  “I know. It’s just-frustrating.”

  “For me, too,” Annah said. “But there are other things.” Then she had kissed him, sliding her hand around the warm hardness of him, and not being able to keep from crying out as his fingers slipped inside her. She had found that he was capable of doing for her what no one else had, and the waves of pleasure he stirred within her reminded her that this place, with him, was where she was meant to be. Where she belonged.

  “Would you like some-some coffee?” Annah asked him, sometime later, after they’d fallen asleep and wakened once again. It was a word she was still unfamiliar with, like the substance it named.

  “That sounds nice,” Holder said. Goodman, it turned out, had made good use of his time aboard the Erewhon station, and had smuggled out not just the HPF’s latest toy (which, Holder noted with shame, he still had yet to tell Annah about), but also a number of foodstuffs and other rare items that would fetch a pretty penny on the black market back home. If, thought Holder, someone actually wanted to sell them.

  One of the items was a very high-quality coffee machine and a stash of some of the best dark-roasted Columbian coffee he’d ever t
asted, or a damn good transplanted equivalent. Annah had been curious about what it was, and he’d shown her, then shown her how to work the machine and how to brew the coffee. He hadn’t been surprised she’d caught on to that part of it-Annah was good with machines, he’d already discovered-but it did shock him how much she liked it.

  “Here you are, dearest,” she said, handing him a steaming cup.

  “Mmmm.” It was strong and sweet, just the way he liked it. “Thank you, beloved. Sit with me a little longer?” “Yes,” Annah said, and smiled. “This feels-so peaceful. I am worried though, Holder, despite all this happiness. Or perhaps, because of it.”

  “What do you mean?” Annah set her cup aside, looking at Holder’s face. For a moment, it seemed to her as though a mist passed between them, obscuring his features from her view. “I have never been happy for very long at a time, without something taking it away. I was happy, as a bloomling, with my parents. And then, something happened, and they went to their rest.”

  Annah picked up the cup and took a sip. The taste of coffee was still new to her, but she found very pleasing: bitter and sweet at once, like the flows of life’s tides. “When my parents were gone, one of the Elders took me in, as my guardian. And then, once again, I was happy—for a time.”

  “You never told me that,” Holder said.

  “I do not think of her often—not because of her, but because the memory saddens me.”

  Holder leaned in and kissed her. “Why should it?” “After I was with her for a time, she fell ill. It was not an unknown sickness, but it was an uncommon one. She died, and there was talk I had caused it, with all of my strangeness. That is why I was alone when we met. You do not know how much it means to feel wanted again, and to feel as though even they welcome me, again.”

  “I didn’t do that, Annah,” he told her. “They’ve started to see you; to see everything I see. But those things have been a part of you all along.

  “I do not want to lose you,” she said, holding him close. “You aren’t going to,” Holder said. “I believe in visions too, Annah. And dreams. But what we do with them is our own will. Our own choice.”