Empire of Bones (7 page)

"I only asked because, if so, you and I don't have to sleep to-gether tonight. If you'd like to conserve your energy, that is," Anarres murmured.

"Thank you for being so thoughtful, but that really won't be necessary," Sirru said hastily, and kissed her again.

AT dawn, the wind veered round to the north, bringing the scent of snow and rock resin from the distant mountains. The singing vine, evidently reminded of winter, shivered with a disconsolate chord. At the sudden song, Sirru woke, blinked golden eyes, and yawned with a snap of teeth. Anarres lay be-side him, coiled in the hollow of his arms, and Sirru watched her for a moment as she slept, moved by her fragility. In sleep, Anarres' mouth was slightly open, and he could see the tip of her jade tongue, just touching her lower lip.

Sirru smiled, remembering the night, and shifted against her. He held her close for a moment, twisting so that his throat was pressed against her own, and the soft skin at the inside of his elbow rested against the lower part of her breast ridges. He sent her a message: a complex combination of desire, grati-tude, and anticipation.

He pressed against her for a moment longer, wishing he could stay, then rose fluidly from the sleeping mat and slid into his robe. Rainwater had collected in the curled leaves of the singing vine. Sirru paused to drink, tJhen walked through the walls of the house and out into the morning. He was irri-tated to see that the house had no reluctance in letting him out.

It was early, but there were already a few people about. He passed an elderly
shekei
on its way back to its own quarter. Sirru looked hastily away, but not before catching a rank whiff of hierarchical disapproval.
Shekei
weren't so far above his own level, only about four grades, but in the hundreds of middle-ranking castes—such as the
khaithoi
and his own— nuances of social position were important, and people would seize on the slightest thing in order to prove themselves supe-rior.

That was not an encouraging thought. The connection be-tween Anarres and EsRavesh was gnawing at him.
Face facts
, Sirru told himself.
If this
khaith
has become enamored of Anarres, then it's hardly
lively to bode well for you, is it
?

He stepped impatiently out onto the platform above the airwell. Khaikurriye stretched below, fading into the morning haze at the horizon's edge. He could see the pale pylons of Fourth Quarter rising up against the mountains in the park, and this reminded him of the nightmare of the previous year. IrEthiverris had lived in Fourth Quarter, before being packed off to Arakrahali. A person at the edge of the platform gave him an angry glance; Sirru had transmitted his unease, a measure of his nervousness this morning.

Embarrassed by his impoliteness, Sirru activated the scale. Despite the risk he was running in having illegally engineered clothes, he was sure that he would be glad of the scale's modi-fications before the day was out. Sirru did not trust the
khaithoi
in any circumstances, and since he had learned of Anarres'

connection with EsRavesh, his trust was at an all-time low. Rumors of alterators ran through his mind: pheromonal boosters, illegal manipulations. He wished he were still asleep in Anarres' arms.

Sirru stepped off the edge of the platform and plunged into the airwell. As he slowly descended, his anticipation in-creased, mixed with a growing sense of unease. Soon, he reached the Marginals.

The domes towered above him, looking like a tumbled col-lection of gigantic, ribbed seeds, which, in a sense, they were. The Marginals extended as far as the eastern horizon; he could see their oval spires rising faint and shadowy against the growing sunlight. The air was thick with pollen, which swarmed in golden skeins through the warm morning and filled Sirru's head with a pungent mixture of spices.

Somewhere in the midst of this vast construction lay the Core: the oldest thing in the universe, a place central to the life of all irRas and, to Sirru, literally unimaginable. He could only think about it in very vague terms, as one might glimpse stars from the corner of one's eye. The Marginals, the nearest ex-pression of the life of the Core, were impressive enough.

Sunlight shimmered from the walls, releasing a scented waft. Taking a deep breath, Sirru placed his palm on the entry mechanism of the Marginals' quarantine dome. Hoping that the scale's undetectors would hold, he walked slowly through the decontamination system before reaching the far end of the dome.

The
'thaithoi
liked to see themselves as superior to Sirru's own caste because of where they lived, but

they were one of the lowest castes of the Marginals, really, confined to its farthest edges.

This was fortunate, because it meant that Sirru did not have to go very deep into the Marginals. A more extensive de-contamination would have revealed the scale in moments.

After a brief pause, the wall opened and Sirru stepped through into a long narrow chamber lined with antique metal panels. A group of
hhaithoi
awaited him. Their eyes glistened in the dim, filtered light; their quadruple arms were folded around their stout waists. Their petaled mouths fluttered in and out, tasting the air, listening for what he might inadver-tendy say. Sirru inclined his head and sent a carefully com-piled greeting of
/place/status/affirmation/
. A rustle ran along the lines of the
/{haithoi
, but when he cautiously explored the air there was notJhing but a wall of blankness. They were blocking him. *

Sirru fought down a sudden, unfamiliar sense of panic; it was as though die
'thaithoi
were no longer real, merely plump shells of flesh. He knew they were doing this to unsettle him. A thin glaze of sweat filmed the inside of the scale, which minutely rearranged itself and prevented Sirru from revealing his disquiet.

Sirru waited. A head turned: the
bhaith
who was nearest to him. Sirru was granted a portion of the
khaitWs
locative: IrHirrin EsRavesh. So this was the person who had summoned him. This was his rival.

Gritting his teeth, Sirru provided the relevant fragment of his locative in turn.

"/Sirrubennin EsMoyshekhal/genestrand seventy billion nine/."

"We already know where you come from," EsRavesh said, with a subtextual trace of disdain. "Speak when you are invited to, and not before." His complex mouth curled and folded in an expression that Sirru found difficult to interpret. EsRavesh was using the Present Remote Plural, laced with expressives so smooth and bland that they ran off Sirru's skin like rain. And beneath that, a hint of something much spikier. The scale shot a warning across Sirru's skin. Wisely, he did not reply.

"You're
desqusai
, aren't you?" the
l{haith
said, frowning, as if the lower castes were so similar that it was beyond his ability to tell them apart. Since his status was perfectly obvious, Sirru evinced no more than a flicker of affirmation. The petals of the
khaith's
mouth folded abruptly inward, leaving a small pinhead hole. "Then you will no doubt be overjoyed to learn that your caste is about to be honored,"

EsRavesh said. "Come with me."

The
fyhaith
spoke slowly, using clear, precise verbals to dis-ambiguate the complexities of his pheromonal speech. All the
fyiaithoi
spoke like this, as though the castes below diem were idiot children, incapable of understanding the refinements of the hierarchical languages that lay above. The fact that this was largely true did not help Sirru's mood. Honored? What was the
kftaith
talking about? He tried to focus on what EsRavesh was saying.

"It seems that another of your caste's seed colonies has be-come active. The one you call Eir Sithe Tekhei," EsRavesh told him. "Observe." He touched an implant in the wall. A small glowing globe emanated from it and hovered before Sirru's face. Gradually, the glow faded and a world appeared: small, blue, marbled with cloud, beneath which continents swam in ochre and gray. Ice dappled each pole; a tiny moon orbited slowly. Sirru frowned. He'd seen a representation of this world before, among the ranks of
desqusai
planets that had not yet reached fruition.

"It's activated?" he echoed.

"Indeed. A depth ship has been broadcasting for genera-tions, but to no effect. Now, however, it seems that a Receiver, a female, has finally grown to fruition and come on-line. The Receiver, after an apparently shaky start, has entered into reli-able communication with the depth ship. The ship has a
ra't-sasa
, of course—an administrator. She is a caste/clade member of mine. She is requesting a suitable mediator between herself and the colony's inhabitants. That mediator," EsRavesh said with a buttery trace of satisfaction, "will be you."

"Me?"

"You," EsRavesh repeated, with a trace of sharpness. "Perhaps I do not make myself sufficiently clear.

Eir Sithe Tekhei is a
desqusai
world, the home of a subspecies of your own caste. Your caste has therefore been selected as being re-sponsible for this particular colony—an appointment that re-flects your ancestors' role in forming the colony itself. Your job will be to go to Tekhei and solve whatever problems have accrued in its evolution. I understand that there are a number of difficulties."

"What sort of difficulties?" Sirru asked. The scale clamped down on his stirrings of unease.

EsRavesh said wearily, "
Desqusai
, hmmm."
Always a prob-lem
, his words implied.
But what can you
expect of the lower or-ders
? "The Receiver herself is extremely fragile; I understand that there has been some kind of malfunctioning in her ge-netic programming. The depth ship's
raksasa
is even now working on a way to modify her so that she can operate more effectively. It also seems that the colony has not adapted well to the regeneratives that were aligned to it. Genetic patterns designed to form the basis of communication have become distorted across millennia, and have either atrophied or be-come structurally damaging."

Unbidden, the voice of Sirru's lost friend IrEthiverris echoed in his head.
It's the communications
network. It's killing them
! He shivered. The disaster on Arakrahali was the last thing he wanted to think about now. EsRavesh continued, "Political structures are rudimentary, as is to be expected in such a society. The world is suffering from a population ex-plosion; its environment has been rendered unstable by injudi-cious economic decisions. The colony must be brought under the aegis of the irRas. It must be
pruned
, before it goes entirely to seed. If such pruning proves unsuccessful, the colony will have to be terminated."

"Terminated?" Sirru's quills rattled.

Hissing in exasperation, the
tfiaith
stepped forward. "I re-alize that it's a difficult notion to entertain. But you do under-stand?"

"Yes," said Sirru, wincing. He added, "My caste would be most unhappy if that were to happen."

"The decision is not in the hands of the
desqusai
," EsRavesh snapped. "It is the Core's. You know as well as I do that the Core cannot allow unviable colonies to spread like poison-briar throughout the galaxy. Unruly populations must be con-trolled, governed, their savage impulses contained within the proper boundaries. I'm sure you agree. Or"—a trace of sar-casm tinged the air—"have you become a Natural, arguing for some nonsensical notion of social chaos?" He did not wait for Sirru's murmured refutation. "As I have said, your task will be to set things to rights."

"I am honored. But I am also surprised that a minor per-son such as myself should have been selected for such a task," Sirru said, trying not to sound as though he was pro-testing.

"The project is not a difficult one, compared to others. This is a little, primitive world, hardly a matter of great complexity. You," EsRavesh said with a withering glance, "have been deemed appropriate.

Nevertheless," the
khaith
added, and his golden gaze became beady, "I do not need to remind you that the last attempt to bring a
desqusai
colony into the fold ended in termination. No one wants such a debacle to happen again. I believe you knew IrEthiverris EsTessekh?"

"Yes," said Sirru bleakly.

"A friend of yours, I understand. A pity. He seemed to be a reasonably capable administrator, at least at first. And Arakrahali was a minor colony, too. It is still unclear what went so tragically wrong… I understand you have been inves-tigating the incident?"

"Yes," Sirru said, suddenly wary. He thought he had taken care to be discreet. "As you so rightly say, IrEthiverris was a friend of mine, and obviously I'd hoped to discover the rea-sons for the tragedy."

"Reasons?" EsRavesh asked. "What reasons do you need? IrEthiverris administered his colony with increasing inepti-tude. His
kjiaith
colleague reported a series of misjudgements; she was most concerned about the deteriorating relationship between the locals and IrEthiverris himself. I need hardly re-mind you that the situation seems to have created a most disas-trous plague, and shortly after that, IrEthiverris disappeared. Tragic, yes, but not something that needs further investigation. We are looking into the case ourselves."

Then why are there so many things about Arakrahali that don't add up
? Sirru thought mutinously, but said nothing. The thought was painful; as it occurred to him, his epistemic sup-pressants clamped down. The whole Arakrahali affair had been difficult to think about; he needed a lower suppressant level, but that wasn't possible. He bowed his head. "Doubtless you are correct."

"
Desqusai
are so
emotional
," EsRavesh mused, as if to the empty air. "There has even been talk within the Core that the
desqusai
castes are degenerating, their colonies proving unsuit-able for sustained development. It would be a pity, if that were so. Your caste remains a valued part of this society." He did not sound as though he believed it. "I'm sure your future suc-cess with Tekhei will help redeem
desqusai
standing in the senses of the higher castes." The expressives that EsRavesh was sending to Sirru were bland, as smooth as sweet oil, but even through Sirru's epistemic suppressants and the soothing scale, the warning was clear:
Sort out your new colony and don't mess it up, otherwise it will the worse for
both you and it
.