Authors: Pamela Sargent
"You said you can dodge the patrol," Dyami muttered. "I assume I can trust that statement. You were apparently mistaken about how cautious your friends here are — one of them, at least."
"I can get you to the road." Teo slipped his tunic over his head. "I'll get him to his house, wherever it is — we can come up with some sort of story."
They went to the boy. "We're leaving now," Teo said. "Maybe you'd like to come along. Where do you live?"
"The southeast dome." The boy's face paled. "But Kinsu might wonder —"
"Forget about your friend. We'll have a few words with him another time. Wait two or three years before you even think of meeting with others like this again — we have quite enough grief without having people think we're trying to ensnare children." Teo's mouth twisted. "You're young. Maybe you'll be lucky later and discover you're one of those who can function fairly often with the opposite sex and take some enjoyment in it. You might be able to give this up then. Did anyone on patrol see you coming here with your friend?"
"No. I came as far as the woods alone, and it was still light then. He told me to meet him there."
"Good," Teo said. "That makes it easier. I can get you as far as the tunnel. If the patrol asks you why you're wandering around, you can say you were trying to make the rounds at night or something. I used to try that a lot myself."
The boy got to his feet. He moved awkwardly, as though his body were an obstacle he wanted to push aside. Dyami glimpsed the despair in his eyes.
* * *
Dyami busied himself around the house the next day, replacing a faulty component in the kitchen's recycler before washing some of the household's clothing. Except for Paul and an occasional visitor who came by to see the paramedic, the house was empty. Dyami had volunteered to do the chores; he had muttered an excuse about wanting some time to himself when Risa and Grazie suggested he pay a call on an old schoolmate, a young woman who worked in the nursery. "Shy, that's what he is," Grazie had murmured to Risa as the two women left the house. "Think he would have grown out of it by now."
He was in the greenhouse, checking the tiers of crops and selecting some ripe fruit for the evening meal, when he saw Teo walking up the path. He went to the door and beckoned his friend inside.
"My housemates tell me the patrol didn't call them," Teo said, "so you must have gotten home without much trouble."
"They asked me where I'd been. They didn't bother to check. What about the boy?"
"No problem. He got to the tunnel, and the patrol didn't see us together. They didn't spend more than a few seconds with him before letting him pass."
"That boy is troubled," Dyami said. "He really believes what Ishtar says about people like him."
"A pity he's so young." Teo leaned against a tier of soybean plants. "I wouldn't have minded an encounter with him if he were older."
"I'd avoid him if I were you. His feelings are so twisted up with guilt you can't tell what he might do." He spied a tiny shoot, saw that it was the beginning of a weed, and plucked it out.
"You must come to my house tomorrow," Teo said. "We'll have the place to ourselves — we can indulge ourselves completely. I'd invite you for tonight, but I'm forced to endure one of those wretched meetings." He paused. "When are you going to come back to Oberg for good?"
"I don't know."
"The Habbers won't be up north forever. Too many still blame them for that fever, and the word is that even Sigurd Kristens-Vitos is under pressure from some of his colleagues on that score. Ishtar doesn't lack for allies among the Administrators now."
Dyami thought of Balin and felt a pang. "Even if the Habbers leave, we'll still need people in Turing."
"It might be better for you if you left sooner," Teo said. "Some say that the people in Turing are forgetting that they're Cytherians. Ishtar wonders just where their loyalties lie. Listen — you could live in my house if you came back. We can easily add another room. Don the sash and get on with your life. There's nothing we can do about Ishtar — we have to live with it however we can."
"I don't think I can live that way, Teo."
"You may not have any choice."
"At the moment, I do — I can go back to the Freyja Mountains."
"Will you visit me tomorrow?" Teo asked.
"Yes." He could lose himself for a little while anyway, escape his fears in the other man's arms. He turned back to the plants. When he looked up, Teo was gone.
* * *
Dyami excused himself from supper early and retreated to his room. He knew what he would see if he stepped outside — groups of people in sashes going to one house or another for their meetings, where they would hear fine words about the world Ishtar would bring into being. It would be a world without doubt, without secrets, built on knowledge that might eventually be forgotten by future Cytherians. It would be a world without people like him.
He tried to sleep. When he could not, he got up, pulled on a pair of pants, went outside, and sat down under the trees. Across the way, people in sashes were leaving Thierry Lacan-Smith's house; Nikolai was among them, his arm around a woman. Dyami watched the pair walk away; apparently Kolya would not escape the rite this evening. Perhaps, in spite of his feelings about the cult, the Russian had learned to enjoy that ceremony. The group dispersed; he did not see Sef.
He looked up. The dome was invisible in the darkness; the dim, pale disk of light might have been floating in a night sky. His people were protected from the dark world outside but not from the poisonous clouds and shadows in their own minds. The domes were cauldrons, boiling under the oppressive atmosphere as old hatreds and needs bubbled to the surface.
He sat under the trees for a long time, until the paths were empty. Two men on patrol, who had been watching one meeting on a screen inside the tunnel, paced along the main road. A man left the tunnel; Dyami recognized his father.
So Sef had gone to the main dome instead of attending a meeting here. The tall man strode rapidly to the house and entered without speaking. Dyami was about to rise when the door opened once more. His father's broad-shouldered form was outlined against the light; he was holding a bottle. Sef came back outside and seated himself a few paces away.
"Sef," Dyami said.
His father started. "I didn't see you."
"I couldn't sleep." Dyami heard the sound of gulping; Sef rarely drank alcohol. "What are you drinking?"
"Some of Andy Dinel's finest, of course. Want some?" Sef's voice was even huskier than usual.
"No."
"It's quite good. I've come to appreciate it more lately."
"Sef, what's wrong?"
"Why, nothing."
"I know something's troubling you," Dyami said. "Risa's worried about you — she told me so." He moved closer to his father. "Can't you talk about it?" Sef did not respond. "What is it?"
"I should be honored," Sef said; his breath smelled of whiskey. "I should be grateful that the woman who's the embodiment of Ishtar to so many is so willing to accept my offering. I should rejoice that the Guide has chosen me so often."
Dyami tensed in shock. In all his darkest thoughts about his sister, he had never imagined that Chimene might be capable of this.
"Her friend Eva asked me to stay the first time," the older man continued. "Others heard her — I couldn't refuse. I told myself it didn't matter, that I didn't want them wondering about a refusal. I didn't know Chimene would choose me, but she did, and when I realized who I was with—" He heaved a sigh. "I wanted her. I didn't care that she was Risa's daughter or your sister. And I can't stop — I keep going back and hoping she'll choose me again, and she always does. Maybe I always wanted her, and she saw it before I could. I tell myself it isn't so, but I can't rid myself of the thought."
"How can she do this to you?"
"What is she doing, Dyami? She believes it all, she doesn't think she's doing anything wrong. It doesn't matter who the man is — it's the rite that's important. I'm the one to be blamed. I don't have any faith, and I don't care about the rite. I go there for her. She talks of love, but what I feel has nothing to do with love — it's just a need, a kind of craving I can't give up. Maybe I could if she left me alone, but I keep going there, and I'm always asked, and I always find her under the shroud."
"If Risa finds out —" Dyami began.
Sef groaned. "I know. She'd never let it pass. Even if she forgave me, she'd never forgive Chimene. All these years, she's tried to protect us all by letting Chimene think we're reconciled with her, but if she knew about this, there's no telling what she'd do."
"All it would take is one careless word," Dyami said. "How long has this been going on?"
"A couple of months. I never thought anything like this could happen to me. I loved your mother — I love her now. I didn't think anything like this could ever touch me."
Poor Sef, Dyami thought. There were times when his father still seemed like a boy. "It'll pass, you know," he murmured. "Those feelings always do. You're still in the early throes of passion — it does go away eventually."
"I wish I could believe that, but you don't know what it's like, being with her."
"I know what it's like to have feelings that can only bring trouble."
"I guess you do." Sef cleared his throat. "I'm not the only one with a secret I have to keep, am I? The only difference is that yours is something you shouldn't have to feel shame about."
Dyami's chest constricted. He was very still, unable to speak for a while. He caught his breath. "What do you mean?" he whispered.
"I knew a while ago. I saw how you'd look at your friend Teo sometimes. Believe me, no one else suspects. You've covered yourself fairly well. I probably wouldn't even have noticed if I hadn't had a couple of friends like you on Earth, though they could be more open about it there. You're my son — do you think I'd love you any less? I've been sorry you couldn't confide in me. I wanted you to think you could come to me with your troubles."
"If Risa ever knew —"
"She'd cry a little," Sef said. "She'd be sorry if you never had a bondmate. But her main worry wouldn't be what you are — it'd be how others would treat you if they knew. I never told her what I thought. I figured she had enough worries without having to fear for you. But it must have been hard for you, having to hide this even from the people closest to you. I can see exactly how hard now."
Sef closed his bottle and set it down. "I had such hopes when I came here," he continued. "Being part of something worthwhile, helping to build a new world. I wanted to leave my children with more than they would have had if I'd stayed on Earth. I wanted them to have some hope. But Eleta had only about three years, and you would have been freer somewhere else."
"I can go back to Turing," Dyami said. "I've been happier there. It's what the Project might have become, what it could still be. The Habbers don't want to rule us, and we can learn much from them. If Ishtar closes us off and claims the future of Venus for itself —"
"And have you found someone there?" Sef asked.
"No. It isn't that I couldn't, but I went through too many years of being afraid to feel that free, even there."
Set's strong hand gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. Now that I've told you what I've done, I feel disgusted with myself. I almost think I could give her up, just so that you wouldn't think less of me." He coughed softly. "And then I remember what she's like with me. If she'd only leave me alone, I'd have the strength. But I know that, next meeting day, I'll be going to her house, and one of her friends will ask me to join them once again, and I won't be able to refuse. I don't think she'll let me go until she knows I'm hers, and Ishtar's."
"You mustn't torment yourself," Dyami said. "Few men could resist Chimene. It's probably one reason she hates my kind so much — not because they offend the Spirit but because they're immune to her beauty."
"Every time I come back here, thinking that I've betrayed Risa with her own daughter —"
"She doesn't know, and maybe she'll never find out. She might not believe it even if she heard about it. I told her that whatever was troubling you, you loved her enough not to burden her with it. You should go to her now and hold her, and try to remember that you do care about her. This will pass — I promise you that."
* * *
The southern half of Oberg's southeast dome was divided by a small river that fed two small connected lakes bordering a wooded park. Dyami left the main road, crossed a wooden bridge, and moved past a long row of houses along the bank. He finally spotted the school, which stood under the center of this dome, just beyond the square windowless building that served as an External Operations Center here. He sat down in the grass and waited until the children began to stream from the school's main doorway and side exits.
Chimene came outside, accompanied by a gray-haired woman who was probably another teacher; they continued to speak until Chimene caught sight of Dyami. He got up and lifted his hand; she murmured to the other woman and then walked toward him.
"Greetings," he said as he clasped her hands.
"What a surprise." Her full lips formed a smile; she lifted her chin as she gazed up at him. "What brings you here?"
"A chance to see my sister, of course. My visit will be all too short, and you can guess how it's going — old schoolmates to see, doing my share around the house while I'm here, meeting every young woman Risa sees as a possible incubator for her grandchildren." He forced himself to keep smiling. "I decided I'd better make time to see you as soon as possible. I've been here five days already and not a word from you."
"I would have come by at least once," she said. "You know how it is — there's so much to do. But you're always welcome at my house — you know that."
"Yes, but you're often distracted there — brothers and sisters coming by to seek your advice, meetings to plan, all of that. We can visit while I walk you home and have more of a chance to talk."
She slipped her arm through his. "You should come to a meeting while you're here." They strolled away from the school and skirted the Operations Center. "It's been a source of some unhappiness for me, the fact that my own brother hasn't yet become one of us."