Ashes and Rain: Sequel to Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle Book 2) (11 page)

Lunge was my ‘first place’, but returning had brought me no joy or peace. I hoped the outcome would be different for Nez in Chimbalay.

Azlii sighed noisily and pulled herself to her feet. “We’ve landed. We’ll be anchored soon.” Her mouth formed a wry smile. “Chimbalay is always an adventure.”

The Chimbalay doumanas poured through the high silver gate, gathering bags in hand, making their way to Kelroosh. They were likely delighted the corenta had settled outside their gates so soon again after the last visit — another opportunity to step outside the walls — despite the hard rain pelting their cloak-covered heads. Beasts roamed the wilderness outside Chimbalay. Unless a doumana was secure in a transportation vehicle or had the safety of a kler or corenta around her, she would never leave.

I saw their happiness at being out. They couldn’t see my nervousness about walking in through those gates again.

We angled our way through the crowd, heading in as hundreds streamed out. We wore kler-style cloaks and trading collars and carried gathering bags stuffed mostly with dried stalks but with goods peeking over the rims. The Chimbalayans paid us no mind. We were nothing to them but sisters who’d managed to reach the corenta early and were now returning. Our slow pace, if they noticed, was explained by the abundance of goods we carried.

“It’ll be good to see Larta again,” Azlii said.

“And Mees,” Nez said, her step visibly lightening at the thought of being with her kler-sister. “And the hatchlings. I must talk to Mees about taking the hatchlings we found. They’re all female, so the males must have picked up their lot. I’m sure Mees will be happy to have the new ones.”

I couldn’t see her neck through the collar but was sure it was pale-green with contentment. Chimbalay was her home — her first place, as she’d called it. Just as Lunge was mine, and I’d been happy to see my commune-sisters. Not so happy to see Simanca. But Nez was happy here in this place made by the lumani for their comfort, this place in which both she and I had suffered. She seemed to have made peace with what had been done to us, more so than I had.

My stomach knotted as we passed through the main gate. I felt again what I’d felt that night, heard the sounds of metal twisting and windows shattering as the energy center the lumani had selected as the site of their stand-off was destroyed. The building itself had chosen to help, and had been destroyed in the process. I remembered running as metal and clearstone rained down, falling behind as my allies bolted for the gate. I remembered, too, what the lumani had done to me. To Nez. To Inra. I had plenty of reasons to be glad of their destruction.

I pulled my hood closer around my face, making a small fabric cave in which to hide. Nez was right — few doumanas here would recognize me, but it took only one. At least we wouldn’t be going all the way to the center ring, where the energy center had been. Where the research center still was, the place where Azlii and Nez had suffered and Inra had been Returned before her time. The place where I’d been turned into whatever sort of thing I was now.

When we reached Guardian House, where Larta lived, Nez nearly ran up the ten steps to the door and stood in front of the spy hole. The walk had tired me. Azlii took my elbow, to help me up the stairs. The door irised open almost immediately and a stiff-backed guardian appeared and waited for someone to speak.

“We’re looking for Larta,” Nez said.

My chin was tucked into my chest, but I could imagine the bold look Nez was handing the guardian. We were in Nez’s world now, and she had taken control.

The guardian’s shoulders relaxed. “Larta doesn’t live here any more. She was spending so much time at Justice House that she and a few of her sisters moved on in.” The guardian peered at Nez. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Tanez, of Hatchling House Four.”

I stiffened, hoping the guardian wouldn’t recognize Azlii or me. The truth was, few doumanas of Chimbalay had much love for Azlii either, even before the lumani were destroyed. The collars were the proof of it: set-place doumanas didn’t trust corentans any more than corentans trusted them. There could be friendships, but even though Azlii and Larta felt warmly toward each other, there was a gate between them that never fully opened.

“Larta will be glad to see you,” the guardian said. “Do you know the way to Justice House?”

“Yes,” Nez said. “Thank you.”

“Larta isn’t merely First of the guardians now,” the guardian said. “She’s, well, she oversees the kler. Picked up where the powers left off after they were blown to smithereens.”

Picked
up
where
the
powers
left
off
. I didn’t know what to make of that.

The guardian peered hard at Azlii and me, but whatever she felt wasn’t strong enough to light her spots. Maybe there were more in Chimbalay without hard feelings toward us than Pradat had led me to believe. Or maybe they blamed me, but not the others. Doumanas weren’t always logical.

“Thank you,” Nez said again and turned to lead us.

Justice House was in the center ring of Chimbalay, the same ring as the energy and research centers, but on the other side.

“I know a good route,” Nez said. “We won’t go by… those places.”

She strode off. Azlii and I followed like hatchlings.

Larta’s neck lit up like a Resonance night sky, spots aglow — yellow-green with surprise, crimson with happiness, white with satisfaction. She stepped out onto the porch, grabbed Nez and Azlii — one with each arm — and pulled them close. Nez and Azlii had removed their collars while coming up the steps. Their necks also glowed with the vivid crimson of happiness. Larta turned them loose and took me by the shoulders, her hands pressing the wet fabric of my cloak.

“Khe. My dear sister, Khe. You look well. I’m very glad to see you again.”

Happiness and relief flooded through me. I wished my emotion spots would light, so Larta would know. But she seemed to know anyway, and the crimson on her own neck didn’t fade. She looked into my face for a long moment. Her lips tipped in a wide smile as she lifted her hands from my shoulders.

“Well, Tanez,” Larta said, turning to her, “I thought you’d gone off forever to be a corentan. You look half-corentan, even in a kler cloak, foot casings, and hipwrap. It’s in your bearing.”

“Nez is at least half-corentan now,” Azlii said. “Corentans are proud with good cause.”

Larta laughed. “Of course they are, Azlii. How fine that you’re here to remind us of all the reasons. Do come in.” She swiveled to the side, giving us room to pass into Justice House. “We have much to talk about.”

The foyer was probably as big all by itself as the receiving room in Home. The floor was some sort of polished stone — dark-blue-red, the color of curiosity. The door behind us irised closed.

The crimson on Larta’s neck winked out. “Things have changed since last you were last here.”

A tingle of anticipation slid down my breastbone as we followed her into the receiving room.

I’d forgotten how large rooms like this could be. I’d grown used to the corentan way of living, where a doumana usually had a dwelling to herself and didn’t need a receiving room bigger than an area to fit a few sisters. Kler dwellings were like commune living, with whole units sharing the space. I wondered how many sisters Larta lived with here. A great many, I guessed, to need a room this size.

On a clear day light would have poured in from the numerous windows. Today the room was lit by the glow of white globes that lined the ceiling and stretched down the walls between the windows. It wasn’t as nice as natural light, but the effect was cheerful. And opulent. I felt uncomfortable, as if none of us belonged in a room like this, a room made to lumani specifications. A room where the lumani had passed judgments, using their doumana surrogates to hide where the true power lay. My neck warmed, nerves tingling, wondering what ‘changes’ Larta wanted to tell us about.

The main room held three different seating areas, each with a good amount of open space between them. One had two long chairs that faced each other, with single chairs flanking either end. The fabric, oddly for such a room, was plain and serviceable, as it was on all the seating. On either side of the single chairs were small tables, big enough to hold a tumbler and perhaps a small bowl or two but nothing more. The other seating areas were smaller: a set of five single chairs in a circle with a round clearstone-topped table in the middle, and a set of three chairs in a triangle, each with a small wooden table between them. The smooth walls were painted the pale-green of contentment, like many of the rooms I’d seen in Chimbalay. I thought a truer choice would have been the bright-green of pride.

Larta took a seat at the five single-chair setup and gestured with her chin for us to sit.

“Kelroosh wasn’t due at Chimbalay again until after First Warmth,” she said. “What brings you here early?”

Azlii shrugged. “As you said, things have changed. And not all for the better.”

Larta set her elbows on her knees, her chin on the ledge of her two fists.

Azlii leaned forward, as if to speak, then sat back. The blue-red of anxiety blossomed on her neck. She leaned forward again and tucked her hands between her knees.

“The truth is, Larta, I need a favor. A large one. Kelroosh is nearly out of food. We managed to secure some at Grunewald, but we’re going to need more soon. I need to barter with you.” She looked up. “I hope you have some to spare.”

I focused my gaze on Azlii’s throat to see if her neck showed shame at having stolen the food at Grunewald, at lying to Larta about how we got it. There was nothing more on Azlii’s neck than a couple of spots lit with the purple-gray of concern — for her sisters in Kelroosh, I thought.

Larta laughed. “Corentans! Such misplaced pride. We have our differences of opinion, Azlii, but I count you as a sister. I’ll send word to our doumana in charge of foodstuffs. You’ll have what you need.”

Azlii blew out a breath. “Our doumana in charge is called Binley. Tell me where to send her and she’ll be there.”

Larta tapped on the slim textbox she wore at on her left forearm — just above her age dots — then turned back to Azlii. “Tell me what other news you have. Communications with other klers and the communes have been spotty since the incident with the energy center.”

I looked down at my feet. Everything we do has repercussions, mostly ones we don’t guess at ahead of time.

Azlii told her about the two communes we’d visited. “Wall says it’s been in contact with the structures of Jeldish corenta, and they tell similar stories of the communes they’ve visited. They’re stuck, the commune doumanas. They need to make decisions but can’t; they’ve forgotten how.”

Larta straightened her back and nodded. “It’s been different here, too. There’s an odd discontent. I feel it in the streets. You know I’m no empath — if I’m aware, it must be as thick as paste in the air. Some of it we brought on ourselves when we invited a few males to stay in Chimbalay. You wouldn’t think that would make a difference, that they’d be just like doumanas but different looking, but they’re not like us at all. They stay shut up in their own little world, rarely venturing out. When they do, it’s such a rare sight that doumanas stare at them. Then they jump back into their hidey holes again.”

“If doumanas hardly ever see them, what difference does it make if they’re here or not?” Nez asked.