Authors: Joan D. Vinge
She took
them through a series of rising rooms into one where the wide, color-banded
window overhung the painted gardens. ALV pressed one of a series of controls in
the wall inset by the door; a large painting of several Kharemoughis picnicking
under the trees became a threedy screen full of arguing men. She nodded toward
the mounds of red and purple tapestry cushions, the oases of low wooden tables
inlaid with gold and amethyst. “Here you are. The servos will in and out be ...
in case you anything need. And now I hope you’ll me excuse; I’m going over the
tax data for Father, and it’s a dreadful project. He’ll you join, just as soon
as he can.” She left them alone with the declaiming debaters on the wall.
“My, my.”
Cress folded his arms, wheezed indignantly. “
“Make
yourselves at home; steal some silverware.” Family ties meant something on Big
Blue. All my parents—”
“Now,
Cress.” Elsevier shook her head at him. “I’ve only met the girl—the
woman—twice, once when she was eight, and once at TJ’s funeral. She can’t have
heard much good about any of us in between. And you know how the highborns are
about—” she glanced down at herself, “mixed marriages.”
Cress shook
his head back at her, nudged a table leg with his sandal. “This’s fine
workmanship, Elsie,” loudly. “We could four digits for a couple of those stones
upstairs get.”
She hissed
disapprovingly. “Control yourself. Moon?”
Moon
started, turned back from the window.
“Didn’t I
tell you it was beautiful here?”
Moon
nodded, smiling, without the words to say how beautiful.
“Do you
think you could stay, and be a sibyl here?”
Moon’s
smile faded by halves. She shook her head, moved slowly back into the room and
settled onto a pile of cushions. Elsevier’s eyes followed her, but she couldn’t
answer them. / can’t answer any question! She pointed at the screen, changing
the subject, as Elsevier sat down beside her. “Why are they angry?”
Elsevier
peered at the gesticulating speakers, concentrating. “Why, that’s old PN
Singalu, the Unclassified’s political leader. Bless me, I didn’t know he was
still alive. It’s a parliamentary debate; there’s an interpreter, so that
temperamental young dandy on the right must be a highborn. They can’t speak
directly to each other, you know.”
“I thought
the Unclassifieds didn’t have any rights.” Moon watched the two men face each
other burning-eyed from their podiums, across the neutral ground of the
droning, shaven-headed interpreter. They ran over the tail of his words to
answer each other, while he repeated what they had already heard, like children
arguing. Looking at them she couldn’t tell one from the other, wondered how
they knew for themselves which one was the inferior.
“Oh, they
have some rights, including the right to representation; it’s simply that
everything not specifically given to them is specifically forbidden. And they
aren’t allowed enough representatives to change the laws. But they keep
trying.”
“How can
they run a government at all; I thought the Prime Minister was out in space?”
“Oh, he’s
on another level entirely.” Elsevier waved a hand. “He and the Assembly
represent Kharemough, but they represent the days when Kharemough was first
making contact with the other worlds that became the Hegemony.” Kharemough had
thought that it was rebuilding the Old Empire in microcosm, with the help of
the Black Gate. But in fact they came nowhere near the Old Empire’s
technological sophistication, and they had learned in time that real control
over several subject worlds wasn’t practical without a faster than-light star
drive Their dreams of domination were swallowed up in the vastness of space;
until they could regain a star drive they would have to be content with
economic dominance, a kind the rest of the Hegemony was willing to support. But
the Prime Minister and his floating royalty continued as they had begun, a
symbol of unity, although not the unity of empire. They traveled from world to
world, accepting homage as virtual gods—seemingly ageless, protected by time
dilation and the water of life from the precession of the universe outside.
“And
they’re always welcome, of course; because, ironically, they’re nothing but a
harmless fantasy.” The voices of the debaters, and the tempers behind them, had
been rising while Elsevier spoke; her sudden gasp echoed the stricken silence
that suddenly fell, half a continent away, in the hall of government.
Moon saw
the look of wonder that spread over the worn-leather face of the old man ...
and the utter disbelief on the face of the arrogant young Tech. Even the
interpreter lost his glaze, sat openmouthed between them, looking left to
right. “What?” she said, and Cress echoed it.
“He didn’t wait;
he didn’t wait for the interpreter!” Elsevier pressed her hands against her
cheeks with a cry of delight. “Oh, look at that old man! He worked all his life
for a moment like this, knowing it would never come ... And now it has.” There
was a rising sigh of noise from the hall; the young Tech turned and walked off
camera like a man caught in a trance. Someone wearing gray robes and a mantle
of authority took his place, calling for order.
“What
happened?” Moon leaned forward, hugging her knees with absorbed tension.
“The Tech
forgot himself,” Elsevier breathed. “He addressed Singalu directly—as an
equal—instead of through an interpreter. And in front of millions of
witnesses!”
“I don’t
understand.”
“Singalu is
now a Technician!” Elsevier laughed. “One way to rise in rank on Kharemough is
for someone from a higher level to raise you to it, by addressing you as an
equal before witnesses. And that’s what happened.”
“What if
Singalu did it? Would the Tech become Unclassed?” Moon watched the wiry,
feather-haired old man clutch the podium, weeping unashamedly, grinning through
his tears. She felt her own throat tighten; beside her Elsevier wiped at her
eyes.
“No, no,
the Tech would merely have had him arrested ...” Elsevier broke off as the man
in gray crossed the platform to Singalu and embraced him stiffly, offered
congratulations face to face. “Oh, if only TJ could have this moment seen, this
shared—”
“And would
he equally in the dark moment share, when the young man who it caused home
tonight goes and poison takes?”
“KR?” They
turned together toward the voice at the door. Moon saw a once-tall man,
stooping now under the weight of years—even though Kharemoughis held off old
age more skillfully than any people who didn’t possess the water of life. She
blinked, looked at him again, but a second look did not remove the brown
parchment of his skin, and even his loose caftan could not disguise all the
marks of age. But this was TJ’s younger brother ... how could he have aged so
badly?
“Yes, KR,”
Elsevier sat back, smoothing her skirts. “He would that moment also share. Even
though the young fool brought it on himself; even though you people take ‘death
before dishonor’ far too lightly. Do you share in old Singalu’s joy, too?” The
familiar
thou
did not replace the
formal
you
with Aspundh, either.
He smiled,
on the edge of good-natured laughter. “Yes, I do. He’s himself both smart and
capable proven, over the years—and this proves again that our system for
intelligence and initiative selects; despite all that TJ did it upside down to
turn, promoting every lowborn who at him smiled.”
“KR, how
can you that say? You know the highborns their purity like virgins protect! No
one would your father raise up, one of the most brilliant minds of his
generation.”
“But I’ve
raised up been.” He shrugged benignly. “My father was satisfied; he knew it
would come, in time.”
“When there
was enough credit in the bank to pay for adopting some respectable ancestors,”
Cress said.
Aspundh’s
expression remained placid; Moon guessed that he did not speak Tiamatan. “It’s
a highly scientific structuring of society, perfectly suited to our
technological orientation. And it works—it raised us up out of the chaos of the
pre space era forever. It’s us a millennium of stable progress given.”
“Of
stagnation, you mean.” Elsevier frowned.
He gestured
indignantly. “You can still that say, after living on the most advanced world
in the Hegemony?”
“Technically
advanced. Socially you’re hardly better than On dinee.”
He sighed.
“Why do I feel that I’ve this conversation before had?”
Elsevier
lifted her hands. “Forgive me, KR—I didn’t come politics to argue, or your time
or mine to waste. I’ve to you in your apolitical capacity come; and I’ve
brought someone who your guidance needs.” She got to her feet, drew Moon up
from the cushions.
Moon stood
numbly, staring as KR Aspundh came forward on slippered feet; staring at the
darkly gleaming trefoil suspended on his chest. “A sibyl! He can’t be!”
He stopped,
with a solemn nod. “Ask, and I will answer.”
Elsevier
reached up and unfastened the enameled collar, slipped it from Moon’s throat,
uncovering the matching tattoo. “Your sister in spirit. Her name is Moon.”
Moon’s
hands flew to her throat; she turned away, hiding the sign of her failed
inspiration as though she had been caught naked in his presence. But Elsevier
turned her back firmly, lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes again.
“You honor
my house,” Aspundh bent his head to her. “Forgive me if my behavior has you
disappointed, and made you ashamed that you came.”
“No.” Moon
dropped her eyes again, spoke awkwardly in Sandhi. “You have not. I’m not ...
I’m not a sibyl. Not here, this is not my world.”
“Our vision
is not by time or space limited; thanks to the miracle of the Old Empire’s
science.” He came forward, searching her face as he came. “We can anywhere
answer, any time ... but
you
can’t.
You’ve tried, and failed.” He stopped before her, gazing evenly into her
astonished eyes. “Anyone could that much see; it doesn’t any special insight
take. Now why? That’s the question you must for me answer. Sit down now, and
tell me where you come from.” He lowered himself onto the cushions, using a
tabletop for leverage.
Moon sat
down, facing him across the table; Elsevier filled in the circle with Silky and
Cress. “I came from Tiamat.”
“Tiamat!”
A nod. “And
now the Lady no longer speaks through me, because I left my—my promises
unkept.”
“The
“Lady?”“ He glanced at Elsevier.
“The Sea
Mother, a goddess. Maybe I’d better how we came to be here explain, KR.” She pressed
her hands together, leaning forward, and told him how it had happened. Moon saw
a furrow deepen between Aspundh’s white brows, but Elsevier was not watching.
“We couldn’t her back take, and we needed an astrogator through the Gate to
get. Because Moon was a sibyl, I—I used her,” a slight emphasis on used. “She
had only just a sibyl become, and since then she hasn’t into Transfer been able
to go.” The fingers twined, twisted.
A
high-albedo mechanical servant appeared in the doorway, moved to Aspundh’s
shoulder with a tray of tall glasses. He nodded, and it set the drinks down on
the table. “Will there anything else be, sir?”
“No.” He
waved it away with a hint of impatience. “You mean you her in Transfer for
hours left, unprepared? My gods, that’s the kind of irresponsible act I’d of TJ
expect! It’s a wonder she’s not a vegetable.”
“Well, what
were they supposed to do?” Cress interrupted angrily. “Let the Blues us take?
Let me die?”
Aspundh
looked at him, expressionless. “You consider her sanity a fair trade.”
Cress’s
gaze dropped to the trefoil at Aspundh’s chest, moved to Moon’s tattooed
throat, but not to meet her eyes. He shook his head.
“I do.”
Moon watched Cress’s profile soften as she spoke the words. “It was my duty.
But I—I wasn’t strong enough.” She took a sip from the tall, frosted glass in
front of her; the apricot-colored liquid effervesced inside her mouth, making
her eyes tear.
“Since
you’re me this now telling, I would you call one of the strongest-minded—or
luckiest—human beings I’ve ever known.”
“Am I?”
Moon cupped her hands against the soothing burn of the cold glass. “Then when
will I stop being afraid back into the darkness to go? When I feel it over me
start to come, the Transfer—it’s like dying inside.” Another swallow, her eyes
blurred. “I hate the darkness!”
“Yes, I
know.” Aspundh sat silently for a moment. “Elsevier, will you for me translate?
I think it important will be that Moon every word perfectly understands.”
Elsevier
nodded, and began to give Moon the words in Tiamatan as Aspundh spoke again:
“Tiamat is—undeveloped. Do you understand where you go when you’re thrown into
the darkness? Do you understand why sometimes you see another world instead?”
Elsevier
shook her head at Aspundh as she finished. “That’s why I her to you brought.”
Moon looked
toward the window, searching the air. “The Lady chooses ...”
“Ah. So on
your world your goddess is in charge—or you’ve always believed that she is.
What would you say if I told you that your visions weren’t a gift from the
gods, but a legacy of the Old Empire?”