Rainscape

by Jaye Roycraft

  I’ll wait.

  Dina changed into a lightweight desert suit and half an hour later was at Way Station No. 4 with Rayn. This station, not as large at No. 5, was nothing more than a storage cache, providing food, water, supplies, but no shelter.

  “Dina, tell me what’s happened.”

  “Not here. Someone might come.”

  “I don’t care. Tell me.”

  Dina took a deep breath. “All right. I know I can’t keep anything from you anyway. I met T’halamar.”

  Rayn let loose with a long string of profane expletives. Most were in B’haratan, but Dina didn’t need to understand the language to know that Rayn was more than upset. “Tell me all of it.”

  “No, Rayn, not here.”

  He stood a moment in frustrated silence, then nodded. “At Bhel, then. Dyll and Rae are waiting there.”

  Moments later, while Kindyll and Raethe waited near the cavern’s entrance, Rayn took Dina deep into the kap’s shadowed interior, and she told him everything, including Gyn’s accusation that Rayn was a spithra. Rayn’s expression was controlled now, but cold. Dina thought she preferred the anger of the storm to this dreadful appearance of calm.

  “Do you believe any of what he told you?” Rayn asked, his eyes unreadable.

  “I considered what he said, but no, I don’t believe him.”

  “Dina, I need to probe your mind. As thoroughly as I can without burning you. I have to know.”

  She knew it was dangerous, knew that Rayn would have no trouble reading her doubts about him, but also knew that she had no choice. She needed his help. With a small dip of her head, she consented. They sat on the cavern floor facing each other, as close as lovers would sit, hip to hip. Dina closed her eyes as she felt his hand on her face and his mind reaching out to hers. No current of power flowed over her this time, no teasing blue lights or sensual cool wind. This was business. He held his power thoroughly in check. She opened her mind to him, and once again experienced the wonder of the hot touch.

  When it was over, they were both silent for a moment. Dina spoke first.

  “Rayn, could T’halamar have placed any commands in my subconscious without my having realized it?”

  “Given his powers, probably. I didn’t detect anything foreign, but it’s possible he planted something deeper than my probe reached. All I can do is try to counteract anything he may have planted with commands of my own. Hopefully, given our bond, your subconscious will naturally obey my commands over anyone else’s. You want me to do this? Or, should I say, do you trust me enough to allow me to do this?”

  So her contradictory feelings were clear to him. Dina realistically had expected little else. She searched his eyes for his reaction to her doubts, but in the darkness of the kap they remained unreadable.

  “If I let you do this, what happens to me? Does it bind me more to you? Does it give you more power over me?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Your will is, and always will be, your own. This is for protection only.”

  She looked as deeply into his eyes as she could, but saw nothing but their dark beauty. She knew she was taking a risk allowing anyone to compel her, but nodded her assent. Better Rayn in her head than Gyn. If Gyn had indeed manipulated her subconscious, she would definitely need Rayn’s help.

  Rayn touched her face again, and she shivered in spite of the heat. A moment later he broke the contact, and she looked at him quizzically.

  “I didn’t feel anything.”

  “No, but it’s done. Now tell me, what do you need from our friends over there?” Rayn inclined his head toward Kindyll Sirkhek and Raethe Avarti.

  “I need someone inside Mother Lode who’s willing to help us. I need to know from them if they can suggest anyone to me. Also, I know that you have a network of . . . shall we say ‘eyes and ears’ in Aeternus. Perhaps one of them might be able to help me. I need to know who’s corruptible and who’s not. Not just inside Mother Lode, but inside the AEA, Aeternan Administration, anywhere.”

  Rayn raised an eyebrow. “Network?”

  “Rayn, don’t deny it. Please, I need your help.”

  He smiled and touched her face again, letting the back of his hand trail slowly down her cheek and the length of her neck. “You shall have it, little girl. You shall have it. It’s true that I have some, shall we say, ‘sympathizers’, in Aeternus, but word would have to be spread very carefully and discreetly among them. It’s possible one or more of them are working both sides.”

  “All right. I understand.” She shivered as his hand lingered at the base of her neck. Damn the investigation, she thought, there were so many other things she would rather be doing with this man. One side of Rayn’s mouth turned up in that smug half-smile that made Dina just want to slap him. “Damn you, DeStar.”

  His smile faded. “You’ll get your wish, little girl. Go on, now. Go talk to my boys. They look anxious to be off.”

  Dina waited a moment longer, wishing she could read his eyes, but as he stepped away from her, shadows beneath his brows were all that met her gaze. Finally, she nodded, and turned toward the entrance of the cavern. She sat with the two ex-miners and explained what she needed.

  Raethe, a man of few words, was surprisingly forthcoming. “Hrothi is plumb as they come. Believe it or not, he testified in my behalf at my revocation hearing.”

  Kindyll nodded. “He took Johnter’s killing real hard. They went way back together.”

  “How did Hrothi react when Mother signed off on the latest Syn survey?” asked Dina.

  “He was livid,” said Kindyll. “I overheard him damn to the Void everyone from Nastja to Ctararzin to Hwa-lik.”

  Dina considered the names Kindyll had mentioned. Ctararzin was Mother’s Operations Manager and Hwa-lik was the company’s top on-planet official. “Who’s this Nastja?”

  “Rukhyo Nastja. He was in charge of the survey. He’s an off-worlder and gone now. He left before the killings started and the port was closed,” said Kindyll.

  “Convenient. Do you think Hrothi would help me? At the possible expense of losing his job?”

  Raethe answered. “He might. A lot of people are surprised he still has his job at all, considering what’s happened.”

  “That’s right. After Dais was killed, some of the miners were already calling for his resignation,” added Kindyll.

  “No,” said Dina, “I have a feeling that Mother needed someone to take the fall. They won’t dispose of him until they’re done.”

  Raethe’s eyes flicked to Kindyll’s, and the two seemed to exchange a silent understanding.

  “Who else inside Mother do you know?” Dina pressed the two men. “I need someone inside I can trust, and I need to know who might be part of the conspiracy.”

  “Conspiracy?” asked Kindyll, shifting his gaze back to Dina.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Raethe. “There aren’t any I would trust except Hrothi. Like I said, he was more than fair with me. About the only one who was.”

  Dina nodded, and her gaze idled on the man before her as she tried to think of more questions. He was a good-looking man, but with his long, shaggy mane of sandy hair, his wary, stern visage, and the coiled strength of his body, he never failed to remind her of a wild animal.

  He tossed his long hair back, and Dina’s attention focused on Rae’s right shoulder. Naked from the waist up except for a cooling vest, the bright design stood out against the tanned skin. A yellow and orange sun—half its face peeking above a horizon line—shot long, thin rays outward and upward.

  Raethe saw where her gaze was fixed, and shrugged. “It’s just a tattoo.”

  “It’s beautiful. Did you get it here on Exodus?” The rising sun had reminded her of the agherz she had witnessed the past two mornings.

  Raethe laughed, a rare sound for hi
m. “No, it’s nothing to do with Exodus. Most of the desert rats have them.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Miners are a superstitious lot. Agherz, not just on Exodus, but wherever we’re working, is a special time of the day for us. Almost sacred, you might say. It symbolizes the hope of the new day, hope that this day will be the day the biggest and best stones are found.” He shrugged again. “Sounds silly, I suppose, but it helps keep us going.”

  Dina was silent for a moment, looking again at the hard features. The soul of a poet and the courage of an untamed beast. And yet he lost his job because he made the mistake of drinking too much. “Hmmm, interesting. You say a lot of the miners have these?”

  “Sure. Dyll’s got one, too.”

  Kindyll pulled the front of his vest apart, and Dina could see the stylized yellow and black design, quite different from Raethe’s, yet clearly a rising sun, on the center of his chest.

  “So . . . anyone with a tattoo like this is a miner . . .”

  “Or ex-miners, like us,” finished Kindyll. “It’s a Guild thing. You won’t find them on Company dogs like Ctararzin or Hwa-lik.”

  “No, the only tattoos they would have would be money chips or credit symbols,” said Raethe, and they both laughed derisively.

  Dina smiled with them, but something was niggling at her mind. Ex-miners . . .

  “Thanks, both of you. You’ve been a big help. If you think of anything else that might help me, let Rayn know.”

  They stood, and Dina returned to Rayn.

  A rare smile lit his features. “I hope you realize what a tribute to you that was. I’ve never seen Rae fawn over anyone that much—not even Alessane when she brings him a plate full of warm sweet bread.”

  Embarrassed, Dina couldn’t think of a reply. She resorted to a playful “Krek,” as she knocked him gently on the shoulder, smiling herself.

  But the lighthearted moment was brief, and Rayn left to instruct the two ex-miners to return to camp.

  By the time he returned and they were alone once more, her serious face was back in place. “I should go. I want to set up an appointment with Karsa Hrothi, head of security at the mines, as soon as possible,” said Dina, not really wanting to leave.

  “I don’t like you going into the desert alone.”

  “I won’t go alone. Either Jon will be with me, or maybe we can arrange for Hrothi to meet us in the city,” she replied.

  “I don’t trust Rzije. If you can’t meet Hrothi in the city, call me.”

  The silence of the desert was absolute. Dina could hear her own heartbeat, and it felt as if with every beat the distance between them increased. Why was it that every time she wanted to get close to Rayn another barrier rose? She crossed her arms. “Jon is my partner. I trust him with my life.”

  Rayn didn’t reply at once, but took a deep breath and bent his head, hands on his hips.

  Dina waited, her eyes persistent in trying to read his features, but all she could see were the dark strands of hair curving from the widow’s peak to the center of his forehead and the crescents of black that his downcast eyes painted against his tanned skin.

  Rayn looked up, his head cocked to one side. “He can’t protect you the way I can,” came the soft response at last.

  “No, no one can ever do anything as well as you can, can they?” Dina turned and strode toward the entrance, leaping onto her skimmer. Damn him! How could her feelings for him be so crystal one moment and so muddled the next?

  As quickly as she moved, however, Rayn was an easy match for her. His skimmer was a shadow to hers as she sped southeast, weaving her way between the rock warriors of the Chayne and the sand creatures of the Wiara, engaged in their eternal battle in the sun. Dina was aware of Rayn’s presence, even as she stared straight ahead, and knew there was nothing she could do or say to deter him from escorting her. She expected him to call to her as they rode, but the silence continued, broken only by the low hum of the machines.

  On the Albho Road, the mountain gladiators left far behind, she sped by the way stations, and still Rayn rode beside her. And still there was nothing but silence, sun, and sand. Finally, when Dina passed the first way station, she felt Rayn’s presence slip away from her and, turning her head, saw that he had stopped his skimmer there. Turning her attention back to the road, she continued toward Ghe Wespero alone.

  RAYN SAT AND watched her, kept company only by the questions that haunted him.

  Two hours later he returned to Keneko Kap, where his “Elite” were encamped, but gave only a brief greeting and perfunctory instructions before ascending to Berg-Frij, a small cliff high above Keneko Kap. It was Rayn’s newest place of m’riri.

  It was an old B’haratan word meaning “reflection.” The ancients had believed, and had taught, that the keys to a successful, prudent life were discovered through rituals of self-reflection. Over the years, however, the teachings of m’riri had become twisted, misunderstood, and largely ignored. It had been the weight on the scale that had balanced the power of the dens. But in modern times on B’harata, the scale had tipped increasingly toward power. The result was a world peopled with those eager to dominate and control, with no regard for the journey that takes them to their destinations. The quick path of violence was all too often the only road taken.

  Rayn’s mother had practiced m’riri, as best as she understood it, and had tried to teach Rayn. But it had been a difficult concept to grasp as a child, and as he grew, he too, like so many others, spent his time perfecting the arts of the dens instead. It wasn’t until his mother was ill and near death so many years ago that Rayn had listened at last, and understood, if just a little.

  As he gazed now upon the Sea of Glass, he heard his mother’s words in his head. Remember the m’riri, Raynga. It will not fail you, ever, wherever you go, whatever you do. It will guide you and keep you safe, and it will bring you peace. You are strong with the dens, and for that I am glad. It will keep you alive. But for life, Raynga-cha, for life, you need the m’riri . . .

  He had tried, and still tried, but the true m’riri was as elusive as a cool breeze during the devil hour. Too often he sought escape in the reflection, as he had as a child, instead of understanding. And too often he had tried for peace, for life, and had gained little, and that at great price. Why was the price always destruction? Why was the B’haratan way always destruction?

  And now his attempts at escape had brought him here, to a desolate and primitive colony, and to a life-force named Dina. But thus far nothing had changed. The more he reached for order and life, the more he summoned chaos and death.

  Rayn sat in the shadow of a small overhang on the cliff and stared at the endless shimmering moiré of the Ghel. How could he hold on to that life-force without destroying her?

  What does T’halamar think about when he gazes upon the red dust of the Pur-Pelag? What would Dina think if she knew the real truth? Does T’halamar ever contemplate his life? Does she know what I’m doing to her? Am I so different from him? If I destroy her, or if Gyn destroys her, what’s the difference?

  Three hours later, the m’riri gave him an answer, but embedded stubbornly in the answer, like a crystal in a rock, was another question. Was he strong enough?

  Fifteen

  The Vow

  DINA STOOD INSIDE her room and listened to the soft whisper of the door gliding shut behind her. She longed for an old-fashioned, manually operated door she could slam, and imagined one instead in her mind. The mental wham, however, did little except remind her that her headache was not going away.

  She took a deep breath of the conditioned air and stripped off her desert jacket, letting it slide to the floor. To the Void. She was tired of Rayn’s arrogance. She unfastened her cooling vest and shrugged it off her shoulders, her muscles so tight she could barely turn her head.

  She wa
s tired of Jon’s orders. Her trousers were next, collapsing the tent of white diamonds the vest had made on the floor. She was tired, too, of Katzfiel’s and Khilioi’s disdain. She took refuge in the shower, having further littered the floor with her T-shirt and undergarments. And she was tired of hearing the laughter of the black souls behind the killings.

  She jutted her chin forward and stood perfectly still, letting the jets of water pelt her skin with revitalizing coolness. The water reminded her of Rayn’s power, cool and cleansing. Well, she had her own power. They all thought she was weak, but they were wrong. The curtain of water soothed her, and she silently vowed she would bring down everyone involved. She thought about Karsa Hrothi, twisted her exodite ring, and was confident her vow would not be broken.

  A verbal command raised the temperature of the water, and only when she felt the warmth melt the remaining knots in her neck did she turn off the water and exit the shower. Dina looked at the layers of yellow and white strewn on the floor like wilted flowers and smiled. Eager now to make progress, she picked up the mess and dressed in a fresh outfit.

  Her hair still damp, she called Jon and met with him in his room. She told him what the ex-miners had said about Hrothi, and added what her own research had uncovered.

  Jon nodded. “I agree. My impression of Hrothi when we met him was that he was a forthright man. I also agree that we should try to meet with him here, not at the mines. I’ll try to set up a meeting right now.” Dina listened in as Jon called Hrothi and made an appointment for early the next morning at the Visitor Center. She was disappointed at the delay, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Back in her room, she tried to think about something other than Rayn. She ran a glass of chilled juice and, to distract herself, had the room computer run the time line she had constructed of the dates of every relevant incident she had discovered. Every day she had entered new dates in, and every day she ran the time line, hoping to pick up on some previously missed connection. She sat and watched as the computer projected a visual time line across the length of the room, its machine voice announcing the various incidents in chronological order. Dina had set the time line to begin just over a year ago.