Six was leading the way across the dark particulate sand towards the orthogel lake. Ledin and Grace had been following, but Grace had moved slightly away from them both, her eyes fixed on a distant Sacras, shining almost white. It was clearly visible to the north. She, too, held up one hand. She could cover its light with her smallest fingernail. She gave a small shiver; she couldn’t help but remember what had happened last time she had felt the warmth of that particular sun.
“You go on,” said Ledin, after a quick look at his wife. He said no more, but Six could see that he was still very concerned about Grace. The episodes on the orbital station and then the beach had affected her very badly; it was taking her a long time to get over the terrible knowledge that other beings could manipulate her, could make her do whatever they wanted. It had been bad enough seeing that happen to the avifauna and the amorphs on Pictoria, but it was a million times worse when it happened to you.
Ever since then Grace had lost part of her confidence. He knew that she felt she had lost quite a lot of colour on those fateful days, and that it would take her a long time to get it back. Six felt sorry for her. He watched as his friend went up to his wife, and then he saw Ledin gently squeeze her shoulder in support, and a shaft of envy shot through him.
Six felt deeply ashamed, and wheeled around to face the others.
“Right. The ceremony is due to start in an hour,” he said shortly. “That should give us plenty of time.”
Grace watched as they strode off. She had felt Six’s pain, a twinge of agony so raw that it could have been her own. She shook her head. Even though Diva was still alive, should soon be able to spend time with them, it was different. She found herself wondering momentarily if it would have been better for Diva to disappear completely, like Petra had. At least, that way, there was a chance to eventually move on, to make a new life. Six wouldn’t be able to do that. His days and weeks were devoted to seeing Diva again, for however long she could stay on Xiantha, for whatever time she could give him. So far, since the accident on Enara, that had been none. She could tell he was feeling the strain.
Ledin looked after Six, too. He found himself thinking about their own future. “Grace?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think …?” He wondered if he should go on. Perhaps he should leave this unsaid? But somehow, the slate grey background of the dark side of Valhai seemed to be an appropriate place to mention such things.
“What?”
“Well, do you think …? Are we sure that we want …?”
Grace’s eyes suddenly showed enlightenment. “… To become morphics ourselves?”
“Yes. Only it seems … it doesn’t seem fair, to the one who stays behind, I mean. It isn’t very easy.”
She wondered if Ledin was now able to read her mind. The timing was uncanny. “I know. Six is having a struggle to get used to the new circumstances with Diva. He has lost a lot of weight, have you noticed?”
“It is very hard for both of them.”
“Do you want to opt out? Die normally, like Petra did?”
Ledin made a face. “I have thought about it,” he admitted. “I have never really aspired to being anything except an ordinary person. I am not sure I deserve to be singled out for life as a morphic. I’m not even sure I would like it. You?”
Grace grinned. “I thought I was the only one. I felt guilty about having such thoughts. But I am not completely sure that I want to live a million years, either, even if I get to spend them with you.”
Ledin began to remove the saddle from his canth, and took his time to reply. “Do you think we will have any choice? I mean, if there is a big explosion there might not be time to step back and say you would really rather die completely, might there?”
Grace’s brow wrinkled. “Who actually decides about it, anyway? Do you think it is Arcan, or is it the lost animas, or the ortholiquid?”
“What do you think, Grace? Do you want to spend the next million years by my side?”
Grace found her eyes resting on Temar, who was striding out across the planet’s surface, looking adorable.
“We would see our own children die,” she said.
“Not if they too were transformed.”
“Do you think love lasts that long?”
“Love outlasts death. I still love Hanna, and she has been dead for a long time.”
They both thought about the grave on Hanna’s Ridge for a moment.
“I always thought I would be buried alongside her,” he went on, his face still sad. “I visualized my bones would slowly bleach watching the avifauna launch themselves out from the buttes every morning. I thought you would be on my other side, that we would be together in that way forever. I thought I would face eternity next to Hanna as well as next to you. But Hanna is already long gone.”
“Diva still seems to love Six.”
“Yes, but will that change?”
“I don’t ever want to be manipulated again.”
“I know.”
“A million years seems forever. A thousand times a thousand years. That is an awfully long time.”
“Could we really still be in love after all that time?”
“What would you do for a million years? How would you spend your days?”
Ledin put an arm around her. “You know, I thought I would leap at the chance of staying alive for a million years. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps we should just take what we have been given. It would be enough for me.”
“I know. You have made me happy. I am not sure there could be more than this.”
Ledin swung Ashuaia down from his shoulders in order to give Grace a hug. “Let’s just enjoy what we have. Decisions like whether we want to live for megayears can be left a little longer, I hope. In any case, Arcan still doesn’t know how the whole process works, does he? We may not even have a decision.”
Grace suddenly began to giggle.
Ledin stared. “What?”
“Sorry. It’s just … just that here we are, calmly talking about whether we really want to live for a million years! A few years ago it took me all my courage simply to set foot bare planet here on Valhai. I was too scared to step outside! Now I am talking about the possibility of living practically eternally.” Then she sobered. “But if I do become a morphic before you, you will become one too, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to live alone for so long.”
“If it is physically possible, I promise.”
Her face cleared. “Me too. Whatever happens, however long we live, let’s just try to do it together.”
He nodded. “Always.”
Raven was silent for once in her short life. She was taking in every part of this walk. She would never forget it. From the curved orange glow which showed where Almagest illuminated the bright side of Valhai, to the distant, distant Giant Crab constellation, where Grace pointed out Pictoris; she thought that she had never seen anything so impressive in her whole life. But she felt small; she felt as if she were the size of an ant, as if she shouldn’t even try to understand the rest of the universe. How could her mother now live on such a tiny speck, so far away? How could she possibly travel all that distance to see them? Her eyes were round; she trudged behind the others dutifully, but her head moved restlessly, trying to take in everything there was to see.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all was when they reached the top of one particular hill. They looked over to the other side, to see a huge expanse of dark lake, stretching for as far as the eye could see, filling all the horizon.
“That,” said Grace, “is Arcan.”
They ran down the slope to the edge of the lake, their feet sinking deep into accumulated dunes of sand. Then they stared again.
The lake was welcoming them with a display of fountains and colours, reaching high up above the smooth w
ater. There were waves spreading out, waves meeting waves and forming strange patterns, and walls of colour which rose and then fell back into the surface.
Raven clapped her hands. “Pretty!”
“Thank you, Raven. I am glad you enjoyed it.”
“Arcan? Is that you? Where are you?” She looked around, but there was no sight of the being she usually associated with Arcan.
“I am here. In front of you. I am the lake.”
Raven gazed at the huge expanse of orthogel in front of her eyes.
“You are very big,” she said.
“Yes. Though you are still not seeing all of me. The lake continues down to the south, too.”
“Can you show me where my father lived, when he was young?”
A bubble encased them all and they were soon inside one of the orthogel rooms which would have been used for the donor apprentices, if the program had continued.
Grace looked around with interest, too. She had never been inside one either, though of course she had imagined what they would look like.
“How many years did you spend in one of these, Six?” she asked. “It must have been … what? Two? Three?”
“Too long, if you ask me,” came the answer. “Arcan, I don’t like this at all, can you take us back to the shore, please?”
“Why did you live in the lake, Daddy?” This sounded like an interesting story. Did people not have houses when her father was young? Perhaps, so long ago, they lived in huts, like the ones she had seen in books about prehistoric times?
“It’s a long story, Raven. It would take a long time to tell.”
She was disappointed. “Please!”
She saw that her father was exchanging glances with Aunt Grace and Uncle Ledin. They seemed to lift their shoulders, for eventually Six gave a reluctant nod.
“I will tell you about it one day. One day when you are older.”
“Does Mummy come into it?”
“Oh yes, your mother comes into it. Of course she does. In fact, it is really her story.”
“And yours.”
Six looked wistful. “All of our stories. But it is going to take a while to tell. You will have to wait until you are older to hear it.”
“All right.” Raven knelt down beside the orthogel lake and began to make little piles of the particulate sand. This was all too new; now didn’t feel like the right moment for stories, anyway.
A SHORT TIME later, Raven stood between her father and Tallen facing the orthogel lake. Her father had dusted her bodywrap down and pulled her gently up. She knew, from the way he had looked at her, that she was to behave. Mandalon was on the other side of Tallen, and Grace and Ledin beyond him. This was, Tallen had explained, Petra’s triennium ceremony, something which seemed very important both to him and to Mandalon. Three years was one of the Sellites’ important numbers, though Raven couldn’t quite make out why that day had been so memorable for them both. She knew that Petra had died, but not how.
There was a flurry of movement nearby, a smudge in the air above the particulate sand surrounding the lake, and the sibyla arrived in an orthogel bubble, together with a man who had no hands and an older man with a kind face. They all looked quite incredulous at the sights in front of them. They stared around them, awed. The sibyla held a namura stone in front of her and bowed her head.
“It is good to see you, Voice in the wind, and a great honour to have been brought here, to your home. We thank you.”
At the same time three other bubbles of orthogel arrived: one containing the rest of the Namuri guards currently stationed on Valhai, one with Cimma and one with the canth keeper. Arcan ranged them all slightly to one side of those who were already standing beside the lake.
When Raven had seen the sibyla hold up the namura stone, her own hand had gone to the stone at her neck, and the sibyla had seen the movement and smiled.
Raven turned to her. “The stone seems to change.”
“Yes. You are growing up. You will see the stone differently.” The sibyla looked out across Valhai, across the silvery darkness. “Namura stones are pleochroic.”
Raven peered at the sibyla. “What does that mean?”
“It means that the flashes of colour deep inside the stone change, depending on how you look at them. The stones are never static.”
“How do you know things?”
“Hush, child. I will explain it to you later. Now is not the time for chatter.”
Raven nodded. She could tell that both her father and Tallen were very serious. They had come to honour Petra, Tallen’s sister, who had died a very brave death saving the head of all Sell three years ago. She was a heroine. Raven rather wanted to be a heroine, too. You got a lot of attention if you were a heroine, it seemed.
The Namuri to one side of her were chanting and holding up their namura stones. It had become the custom for all Namuri traveling to Valhai to bring their stones with them. Since it was outside her bodywrap, Raven quickly slipped her own necklace over her head and held it up in front of her, too. The sibyla gave her an approving nod.
Raven listened to the chant. It was quite short. She could remember the words easily, and it didn’t take her long to join in.
“I will not stop, I will be a river.
I will not pause, I will be light.
I will not waver, I will be the earth.
I will not give up, I will be death.
I will not fail, for the blue stone is in my heart.”
This must be the song they sang for heroines, she thought. She noticed that even the head of Sell was mouthing the words. He was staring blindly at the lake and his eyes were unfocused, as if he were remembering something. He looked quite young.
Raven wondered if her mother was a heroine too. But nobody sang songs for her mother. She tugged at her father’s hand.
Six looked down at his small daughter, who was regarding him with a frown on her forehead. He raised his eyebrows.
“What’s the matter, Raven?”
“Why don’t we sing songs for my mother?”
He smiled. “Perhaps we should.”
“—Because she is a heroine too, isn’t she?”
“Very much so. She is the bravest woman I have ever met.”
“Then she should have a song of her own.”
Six swallowed. “I never thought of that.”
“That’s all right, Daddy. You can’t think of everything. This is a nice song. Was Petra really brave, like Mummy?”
Tallen turned around, and Raven saw a sheen of pain in his eyes, as the Namuri answered: “They were both brave, Raven, in different ways.”
“Who was braver?”
Tallen stared down at her impassively, his dark eyes enigmatic. “Nobody can offer more than their own life. And lives do not have different values.”
Raven struggled to understand. “You mean, neither of them was braver than the other?”
“Listen to the words of the song, Raven. They both had the blue stone in their heart. That is the definition of bravery for a Namuri.”
“I have blue stone in my heart, too!” Raven was looking as though she would like to challenge anybody to say differently.
“Then, one day, you may be a heroine. Now be quiet. We are listening.”
Raven settled down. A song was now being sung by the sibyla, who had a beautiful high voice, if rather quavery, and the rest of the Namuri were beginning to stomp their feet from side to side. The fact that most of them were inside an orthogel bubble dimmed the sound, but some still came through.
Raven joined in the stomping, pleased to find part of the ceremony more to her taste.
Arcan was only present as the lake, this time. Raven stared at the dark orthogel in front of her, wondering if it really was Arcan. I
t wasn’t the Arcan she knew, someone she was still very much in awe of. She wondered whether this lake person would be the same, and decided to ask him about heroes too, but the thought was hardly formed when his reply came into her head.
“I am not a hero. I am unique.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What is unique?”
“I am different.”
Was that all? “I know that. You talk in my head, like Mummy does now.”
“Yes.”
“But Mummy is a heroine. Doesn’t that make you one too?”
“This conversation is repetitive. I do not wish to continue.”
“Oh. I am sorry.”
“You cannot help being young. You will grow older.”
“I am not sure I want to.”
“It is something you cannot avoid.”
Arcan became silent, and his mind felt blocked to her, so she looked around a little more.
The stomping had stopped now, and the sibyla was standing, arms outstretched, eyes closed. The Namuri were copying her, closing their eyes, and she noticed that all the others were doing the same thing too.
She shut her eyes hastily, and then peeked a little through the lids. If not, how would she know when to open them again? Then she caught sight of Tallen, whose eyes were wide open. He looked lost, desolate.
Raven moved a step closer to his side, and gave him her hand. The Namuri looked down, startled, and then smiled at her, and squeezed her hand back. Raven felt pleased. She had known she would be able to comfort him; she always could.
It surprised her that somebody that old could need comfort. Her father had told her only a few days ago that Tallen would be 16 soon. That seemed ancient to Raven, however much she tried to make herself older. She had suggested having a joint birthday party, but Tallen had curled his lip and said firmly that the Namuri didn’t believe in things like birthday parties. Tallen was very silly sometimes about things like that. He didn’t like chocolate, either, because he thought it was too much of a luxury. That was a new word for Raven. It meant things you didn’t really need, Grace had told her. Tallen didn’t like luxuries. Sometimes Raven wondered if he liked anything at all. He certainly never seemed to need anything. He was always more serious than Bennel, although Bennel was even older than he was.
The Namura Stone Page 40