Authors: Pamela Sargent
"I may not be entirely immune to Ishtar's call. You say yourself that some of those who resist the longest become the most fervent followers." Dyami tried to keep a tone of sarcasm out of his voice. '"The Spirit can respect those who resist, when they finally come to Her."
She glanced toward him; her dark eyes glowed. He saw no doubt in her face; doubt would have reassured him. He would have been happier to think of her as someone who was using the cult and her position for her own gratification; that would have meant that she could still be reached through reason.
"It would give me such joy," she said, "if you came to us. I know you have to be free to find your way to us, but I've worried about having you in Turing. I can't understand why you'd want to consort with people who very likely brought about the death of our sister and grandfather. Some may say it isn't true, but I've seen no evidence against it."
"The Habbers are still useful," he replied, "and that's all that concerns me. I appreciate what you have here more now — all those people secure in their faith, knowing that their Guide is leading them along what they call the true path. Perhaps their faith will touch me before too long. I'm not one who finds such beliefs easy to accept, but —"
"I sympathize. It was often a struggle for me."
Teo thought that because Dyami was Chimene's brother, that gave him some protection. Dyami did not believe it. If Chimene ever learned what he was, what he had done with Teo in his friend's house, protecting him would be the last thing on her mind. She would never allow her own brother to be such an affront to her. His fear uncoiled coldly within him. He swallowed; he had already considered what to say to Chimene.
Between two rows of houses, a long path stretched past a row of trees towards the tunnel in the distance. "Still," he said, "some in our mother's household have found their faith — Kolya and my father." He paused for a moment. "I spoke to Sef the other night, alone. He tells me that you've shared the rite together."
Her fingers tightened on his arm, then relaxed. "And you disapprove. I'm not ashamed of what I do, and Sef is my brother in Ishtar."
"It doesn't trouble me particularly." He tried to sound sincere. "As you say, he's part of the fellowship, and for you to withhold your love from a man who's been so close might not be right. You've given him some joy. You see, I have grown to understand your faith a bit more." He lowered his voice. "But Sef is perturbed. Not because of you, needless to say — he has a great love for you. He's worried about Risa. He's hoped that she might be led to Ishtar, but she's much too far from your way still to see what your love for Sef means. He feels he must keep the truth from her, and that troubles him. He thinks he's straying from the right path."
"Did he tell you to talk to me?" Chimene asked.
"Not at all. He loves you very much, Chimene. I must admit I was a little startled, but he would be an unusual man if he could resist you. But he is concerned for our mother and what she would feel if she knew, which is hardly likely to bring her to your faith. Isn't that a wrong in your eyes — creating an obstacle to someone else's potential belief?"
She said, "I love him. I always have. I knew he would come to me."
"And he has, and he shares your love." He fought back the disgust welling up inside him. "Perhaps he loves you too much. He can't stop himself from going to you and praying that you'll choose him again. He tells himself that you are his Guide, and yet he suffers because of Risa. But I'm also concerned about you. Many of your followers would understand, but others might wonder why the Guide, who has the love of so many, has to choose her mother's bondmate. Surely you don't want any of your followers to doubt your wisdom. They might not see this as an act of love but as an affront to the woman who bore you."
She halted; her eyes widened, as if this were a new thought to her. Perhaps it was. She had lived among people who served her for so long that maybe she could not believe that anyone would find fault with her. "I'm the Guide. What I do is right as long as it serves my faith."
"But this may not serve it," he said. "Your love for Sef may keep you from sharing yourself with others. His love for you may drive a wedge between you and Risa. There are many who would take her side against you if they knew, regardless of their faith. They might think that their Guide had slipped into error by sharing love with a man before his bondmate could welcome its expression. I know you're aware of the ties that still bind others who haven't reached your state of perfection and that you don't seek to loosen them before such people are ready to shed them. It's one of the reasons so many love you. How unfortunate if you gave them cause to doubt you."
"And just what would you have me do?" she asked.
"Perhaps you should stop inviting him to share the rite with you. His love won't lessen — you have that now. Let him share himself with others, knowing he'll always have the love of his Guide. Isn't that what you want, to make him more capable of that? Choose others, and allow him to make his ofiering elsewhere. I suspect his thoughts will always be on you even then."
They approached the tunnel. She absently greeted a few people entering the dome; the frown on her face told him that his words were having an effect. He thought of the ceramics made in Turing, how stresses and resiliency had to be assessed, what would strengthen them and what might shatter them altogether. Chimene's thoughts were other material to be handled and shaped; his tools were words, drawing on her faith, her fears, and playing on her vanity. He longed to tell her the truth, how Sef's need for her was filled with self-loathing, that he could never love her as he loved Risa.
She did not speak for a long time, until they were inside the main dome and crossing the road. "I may have slipped from the right path a little." She let go of his arm as they moved under the trees. "I share myself with Sef, and yet I don't share him with others. Sometimes I almost wish I could be one of those who live a more flawed life, and have Sef's love for myself." She paused. "Kichi might have told me what you've said. Maybe I needed my brother to say this to me, but it'll be hard to let Sef go."
He nearly sighed with relief. Sef, regardless of his desires, was not likely to go to her without her encouragement. "Don't be too downcast," he murmured. "You still have his love, and maybe in time, if Risa's able to accept it, he can come to you again. You can always hope for that, and in the meantime you'll be able to give your love to others. There must be many who are waiting to move closer to the truth in your arms."
Birds sang above them; a pale yellow light shone down through the trees. "I thought you didn't feel close to me," she said. "There's always been some distance between us. I'd always hoped you'd come to care about me more, and now it seems you have. I've wanted to be a real sister to you, but you always shied away."
"I was still a child when you went to live with Kichi. We didn't have much opportunity to be close."
"And then I was the Guide, and there was so much to do —" She stopped and leaned against a tree. "I should have gone out of my way a little more, and maybe it wouldn't have taken you so long to begin to see what Ishtar means. I see that I do mean something to you." Her hand closed around his wrist. "Why do you have to leave Oberg?"
"What I learn from the Habbers may be useful. You needn't fear they'll subvert me."
"I suppose not. You were always one who kept his own counsel." She gripped him more tightly. "But maybe I need you here now. You're my brother — you could be one of those closest to me. You could become my brother in Ishtar, and nothing could separate us then." She moved closer to him. "You're so much like Sef — you have his face and his eyes. You look almost the way he did when I first knew I loved him."
His fear nearly overwhelmed him. A bitter taste filled his mouth; he swayed, afraid he might be sick. Her hand was a vise; her dark eyes held his gaze.
"Why do you look so pale, Dyami?" Her fingers were warm against his cheek. "If you become my brother in Ishtar, do you think there can be any barriers between us?" His chest tightened as he struggled to breathe. She released him and stepped back. "But you're still far from the truth, still trying to grasp it. You'll see it someday." She paused. "Aren't you going to walk to the house with me?"
"I've come far enough." His throat was so tight he could barely speak. "I must start home — it'll be growing dark soon."
"Give everyone my greetings. I'll be sure to stop by the house before you leave."
He watched her go; her cloud of soft black hair swayed against her back as she walked. He felt soiled, as if something unclean had touched him. He longed for the purity of Turing, the light that shone from the domes of that settlement, the clean, open land, the clear and unsullied rationality he glimpsed in Balin's eyes.
* * *
Another passenger was on the airship when Dyami boarded; one of the pilots mentioned that his fellow traveler was from ibn-Qurrah. The woman had slept throughout the trip, reclined on a seat near the back; she was still sleeping, her blond head resting against one arm.
He got up, wound his way among the crates secured along the aisle, and entered the lavatory. When he came out, the woman was awake; she stretched, then adjusted her seat as she sat up.
He motioned at the seat next to her. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Go ahead."
He seated himself. The steady, calm gaze of her large blue eyes made her seem older than she had looked at first. "Are you going to Turing for the first time?" she asked.
"No — I've been there for a year and a half. I was just home visiting my family."
"It's the first time for me. I haven't seen many images of the place, so I don't really know what to expect."
"Maybe you should have prepared yourself," he said.
"It has to be better than what I left. You're still roughing it a bit, aren't you?"
"You can say that," he replied. "Our temporary shelters have become more or less permanent. The people who were there early put most of their effort into the mining operation and the ceramics plant, so there wasn't much chance to put up houses."
"And later, they didn't want to make too many demands for the necessary materials because Ishtar might have given them trouble, I suppose. Ishtar wouldn't want too many others tempted to go there and risk so much contact with those devious Habber folk. Too many enjoy their hard-won little comforts to want to give them up for Turing. It doesn't matter. I'm glad I'm going, anyway."
He looked toward the female pilots. Both wore their bands and seemed intent on monitoring the airship. "What kind of work do you do?" he asked.
"Metallurgical engineering. I knew I'd need a skill like that to get to Turing, but it's not what really interests me. I heard about a couple of Habbers who have some intriguing speculations in astrophysics — I wouldn't mind exchanging some thoughts with them."
"It's that way with most of us," Dyami said. "Being free to talk with Habbers whenever we want, apart from our work — it makes you come up with ideas you might not have had otherwise, and it's the same with them. I wanted to do more in mathematics — I figured I might learn more in Turing than on the Islands."
"You're right about that." The blond woman folded her arms. "Ishtar's just about as strong there as on the surface. I went to an Island school for a couple of years. Appropriate knowledge — that's all we're supposed to care about. Learn what you need to help build the perfect society, and everything else is extraneous. You'd think more of the specialists would chafe at that, but few do. Basically, they want to be left alone, and they think the cult's just a temporary inconvenience and that they can benefit themselves by going along with it — or they really believe all that nonsense. It's sad — how few people there are who can be content without surrendering themselves to some ideological irrationality. You'd think just being part of the Project would be enough for them, but it's not."
"The goals are too distant from them," he said.
"So they fall into Ishtar's arms and pretend that the future's already arrived. Makes you wonder why the Habbers still bother with us."
The woman was being very frank with someone she'd only just met. Perhaps she assumed that since he was going to Turing, he would almost certainly sympathize. He glanced toward the pilots warily, but they could not have heard the woman's low-pitched voice.
"I ought to introduce myself," she went on. "My name's Amina."
"Just Amina?"
"Don't laugh too hard — it's Amina Astarte." Dyami grinned. "My parents decided to change their family names when they settled in ibn-Qurrah, and ancient mythology was something of a hobby for my mother. She thought it might be charming to use a goddess's name, one of the old names for this world. I find it ridiculous myself but never took the trouble to change it — that would have hurt my parents' feelings."
"I'm Dyami."
She peered at him through her long dark lashes. "Just Dyami? Don't tell me your parents decided to be creative with your name, too."
"Dyami Liang-Talis. I'm Chimene Liang-Haddad's brother." He had to admit it now; she would find out anyway.
Amina drew back a little; her blue eyes were colder. "I see. I knew she had a brother, but I never paid much attention to that. The only relative the Guide seems to publicize widely is her martyred grandmother, Iris."
"We were never very close. Her father and my mother separated and didn't renew their bond, so she lived with him part of the time on Island Two."
"So I've heard." She was still looking at him with suspicion.
He said, "I'm not a member of the fellowship, and the people in Turing will vouch for me." Gaining their trust had taken some time. That was another reason he had kept to himself, waiting for people to seek out his friendship instead of reaching out to them. He had not wanted anyone to think he was prying, serving his sister's ends. The others had finally come to trust him, largely because Balin had become his friend, but they rarely confided in him. He had hidden too much of himself for them to share more with him.