At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (12 page)

Kta shrugged, looking at the floor.

“Perhaps,” his father suggested gently, “the daughters of Rasim or of Irain ...”

“Tai t’Isulan,—” said Kta.

“A lovely child,” said Ptas, “and she will be a fine lady.”

Again Kta shrugged. “A child, indeed. But I do at least know her, and I think I would not be unpleasing to her.”

“She is—what?—seventeen?” asked Nym, and when Kta agreed: “Isulan is a fine religious house. I will think on it and perhaps I will talk with Ban t’Isulan, if in several days you still think the same.—My son, I am sorry to bring this matter upon you so suddenly, but you are my only son, and these are sudden times. Ptas, pour some
telise.
”

She did so. The first few sips were drunk in silence. This was proper. Then Nym sighed softly.

“Home is very sweet, wife. May we abide as we are tonight.”

“May it be so,” reverently echoed Ptas, and Kta did the same.

“The matter in council,” said Ptas then. “What was decided?”

Nym frowned and stared at nothing in particular. “T’Uset is not here to bring peace, only more demands of the Methi Ylith. Djan-methi was not in the Upei today; it did not seem wise. And I suspect—” His eyes wandered to Kurt, estimating; and Kurt’s face went hot. Suddenly he gathered himself to leave, but Nym forbade that with a move of his hand, and he settled again, bowing low and not meeting Nym’s eyes.

“Our words could offend you,” said Nym. “I pray not.”

“I have learned,” said Kurt, “how little welcome my people have made for themselves among you.”

“Friend of my son,” said Nym gently, “your wise and peaceful attitude is an ornament to this house. I will not affront you by repeating t’Uset’s words. Reason with him proved impossible: the Indras of the mother city hate humans, and they will not negotiate with Djan-methi. And that is not the end of our troubles.” His eyes sought Ptas. “T’Tefur created bitter discussion, even before t’Uset was seated, demanding we not permit him to be present during the Invocation.”

“Light of heaven,” murmured Ptas. “In t’Uset’s hearing?”

“He was at the door.”

“We met the younger t’Tefur today,” said Kta. “There were no words, but his manner was deliberate and provocative, aimed at Kurt.”

“Is it so?” said Nym, concerned, and with a glance at Kurt: “Do not fall into his hands. Do not place yourself where you can become a cause, our friend.”

“I am warned,” said Kurt.

“Today,” said Nym, “there was a curse spoken between the house of Tefur and the house of Elas, before the Upei, and we must all be on our guard. T’Tefur blasphemed, shouting down the Invocation, and I answered him as his behavior deserved. He calls it treason, that when we pray we still call on the name of Indresul the shining. This he said in t’Uset’s hearing.”

“And for the likes of this,” said lady Ptas, “we must endure to be cursed from the hearthfire of Elas-in-Indresul, and have our name pronounced annually in infamy at the Shrine of Man.”

“Mother,” said Kta, bowing low, “not all Sufaki feel so. Bel would not feel this way. He would not.”

“T’Tefur’s number is growing,” said Ptas, “that he dares to stand in the Upei and say such a thing.”

Kurt looked from one to the other in bewilderment. It was Nym who undertook to explain to him. “We are Indras. A thousand years ago Nai-methi of Indresul launched colonies toward the Isles, south of this shore, then laid the foundations of Nephane as a fortress to guard the coast from Sufaki pirates. He destroyed Chteftikan, the capital of the Sufaki kingdom, and Indras colonists administered the new provinces from this citadel. For most of time we ruled the Sufaki. But the coming of humans cut our ties to Indresul, and when we came out of those dark years, we wiped out all the cruel laws that kept the Sufaki subject, accepted them into the Upei. For t’Tefur, that is not enough. There is great bitterness there.”

“It is religion,” said Ptas. “Sufaki have many gods, and believe in magic and worship demons. Not all. Bel’s house is better educated. But Indras will not set foot in the precincts of the temple, the so-named Oracle of Phan. And it would be dangerous in these times even to be there in the wall-street after dark. We pray at our own hearths and invoke the Ancestors we have in common with the houses across the Dividing Sea. We do them no harm—we inflict nothing on them, but they resent this.”

“But,” said Kurt, “you do not agree with Indresul.”

“It is impossible,” said Nym. “We are of Nephane. We have lived among Sufaki; we have dealt with humans. We cannot unlearn the things we know for truth. We will fight if we must, against Indresul. The Sufaki seem not to believe that, but it is so.”

“No,” said Kurt, and with such passion that the nemet were hushed. “No. Do not go to war.”

“It is excellent advice,” said Nym after a moment. “But we may be helpless to guide our own affairs. When a man finds his affairs without resolution, his existence out of time with heaven and his very being a disturbance to the
yhia,
then he must choose to die for the sake of order. He does well if he does so without violence. In the eyes of heaven even nations are finally answerable to such logic, and even nations may sometimes be compelled to suicide. They have their methods,—being many minds and not one, they cannot proceed toward their fate with the dignity a single man can manage, but proceed they do.”

“
Ei,
honored Father,” said Kta, “I beg you not to say such things.”

“Like Bel, do you believe in omens? I do not,—not, at least, that words, ill-thought or otherwise, have power over the future. The future already exists, in our hearts already, stored up and waiting to unfold when we reach our time and place. Our own nature is our fate. You are young, Kta. You deserve better than my age has given you.”

There was silence in the
rhmei.
Suddenly Kurt bowed himself a degree lower, requesting, and Nym looked at him.

“You have a Methi,” said Kurt, “who is not willing to fight a war. Please. Trust me to go speak to her, as another human.”

There was a stir of uneasiness. Kta opened his mouth as if he would protest, but Nym consented.

“Go,” he said, nothing more.

Kurt rose and adjusted his
ctan,
pinning it securely. He bowed to them collectively and turned to leave. Someone hurried after; he thought it was Hef, whose duty it was to tend the door. It was Kta who overtook him in the outer hall.

“Be careful,” Kta said. And when he opened the outer door into the dark: “Kurt, I will walk to the Afen with you.”

“No,” said Kurt. “Then you would have to wait there, and you would be obvious at this hour. Let us not make this more obvious than need be.”

But there was, once the door was closed and he was on the street in the dark, an uneasy feeling about the night. It was quieter than usual. A man muffled in striped robes stood in the shadows of the house opposite. Kurt turned and walked quickly uphill.

Djan put her back to the window that overlooked the sea and leaned back against the ledge, a metallic form against the dark beyond the glass. Tonight she dressed as human, in a dark blue form-fitting synthetic that shimmered like powdered glass along the lines of her figure. It was a thing she would not dare wear among the modest nemet.

“The Indras ambassador sails tomorrow,” she said. “Confound it, couldn’t you have waited? I’m trying to keep humanity out of his sight and hearing as much as possible, and you have to be walking up and down the halls—He’s staying on the floor just below. If one of his staff had come out—”

“This isn’t a social call.”

Djan expelled her breath slowly, nodded him toward a seat near her. “Elas and the business in the Upei. I heard. What did they send you to say?”

“They didn’t send me. But if you have any means of controlling the situation, you’d better exert it,—fast.”

Her cool green eyes measured him, centered soberly on his. “You’re scared. What Elas said must have been considerable.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. There’s going to be nothing left but Indresul to pick up the pieces if this goes on. There was some kind of balance here, Djan. There was stability. You blew it to—”

“Nym’s words?”

“No. Listen to me.”

“There was a balance of power, yes,” Djan said. “A balance tilted in favor of the Indras and against the Sufaki. I have done nothing but use impartiality. The Indras are not used to that.”

“Impartiality. Do you maintain that with Shan t’Tefur?”

Her head went back. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then she grinned. She had a beautiful smile, even when there was no humor in it. “Ah,” she said. “I should have told you. Now your feelings are ruffled.”

“I’m sure I don’t care,” he said, started to add something more cutting still, and then regretted even what he had said. He had, after a fashion, cared; perhaps she had feelings for him also. There was anger in her eyes, but she did not let it fly.

“Shan,” she said, “is a friend. His family were lords of this land once. He thinks he can bend me to his ambitions, which are probably considerable, and he is slowly learning he can’t. He is angry about your presence, which is an anger that will heal. I believe him about as much as I believe you when your own interests are at stake. I weigh all that either of you says, and try to analyze where the bias lies.”

“Being yourself perfect, of course.”

“In this government there does not have to be a Methi. Methis serve when it is useful to have one—In times of crisis, to bind civil and military authority into one swiftly-moving whole. My reason for being is somewhat different. I am Methi precisely because I am neither Sufaki nor Indras. Yes, the Sufaki support me. If I stepped down, the Indras would immediately appoint an Indras Methi. The Upei is Indras: nobility is the qualification for membership, and there are only three noble houses of the Sufaki surviving. The others were massacred a thousand years ago. Now Elas is marrying a daughter into one—so Osanef too becomes a limb of the Families. The Upei makes the laws: and the Assembly may be Sufaki, but all they can do is vote yea or nay on what the Upei deigns to hand them. The Assembly hasn’t rallied to veto anything since the day of its creation. So what else do the Sufaki have but the Methi? Oppose the Families by veto in the Assembly? Hardly likely, when the living of the Sufaki depend on big shipping companies like Irain and Ilev and Elas. A little frustration burst out today. It was regrettable. But if it makes the Families realize the seriousness of the situation, then perhaps it was well done.”

“It was not well done,” Kurt said. “Not when it was done, nor where it was done, nor against what it was done. The ambassador witnessed it. Did your informants tell you that detail? Djan, your selective blindness is going to make chaos out of this city. Listen to the Families. Call in their Fathers. Listen to them as you listen to Shan t’Tefur.”

“Ah, so it does rankle.”

He stood up. She resented his speaking to her. It had been on the edge of every word. It was in his mind to walk out, but that would let her forget everything he had said. Necessity overcame his pride. “Djan. I have nothing against you. In spite of—because of—what we did one night, I have a certain regard for you. I had some hope you might at least listen to me, for the sake of all concerned.”

“I will look into it,” she said. “I will do what I can.” And when he turned to go: “I hear little from you. Are you happy in Elas?”

He looked back, surprised by the gentleness of her asking. “I am happy,” he said.

She smiled. “In some measure I do envy you.”

“The same choices are open to you.”

“No,” she said. “Not by nemet law. Think of me and think of your little Mim, and you will know what I mean. I am Methi. I do as I please. Otherwise this world would put bonds on me that I couldn’t live with. It would make your life miserable if you had to accept such terms as this world would offer me. I refuse.”

“I understand,” he said. “I wish you well, Djan.”

She let the smile grow sad, and stared out at the lights of Nephane a moment, ignoring him.

“I am fond of few people,” she said. “In your peculiar way you have gotten into my affections,—more than Shan, more than most who have their reason for using me. Get out of here, back to Elas, discreetly. Go on.”

9

The wedding Mim chose was a small and private one. The guests and witnesses were scarcely more numerous than what the law required. Of Osanef, there was Han t’Osanef u Mur, his wife Ia t’Nefak, and Bel. Of the house of Ilev there was Ulmar t’Ilev ul Imetan and his wife Tian t’Elas e Ben, cousin to Nym, and their son Cam and their new daughter-in-law, Yanu t’Pas. They were all people Mim knew well, and Osanef and Ilev, Kurt suspected, were among a very few nemet houses that could be found reconciled to the marriage on religious grounds.

If even these had scruples about the question, they had the grace still to smile and to love Mim and to treat her chosen husband with great courtesy.

The ceremony was in the
rhmei,
where Kurt first knelt before old Hef and swore that the first two sons of the union, if any, would be given the name h’Elas as
chani
to the house, so that Hef’s line could continue.

And Kta swore also to the custom of
iquun,
by which Kta would see to the begetting of the promised heirs, if necessary.

Then Nym rose and with palms toward the light of the
phusmeha
invoked the guardian spirits of the Ancestors of Elas. The sun outside was only beginning to set. It was impossible to conduct a marriage-rite after Phan had left the land.

“Mim,” said Nym, taking her hand, “called Mim-lechan h’Elas e Hef, you are
chan
to this house no longer, but become as a daughter of this house, well-beloved, Mim h’Elas e Hef. Are you willing to yield your first two sons to Hef, your foster-father?”

“Yes, my lord of Elas.”