At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (39 page)

A deafening vibration filled the air, moaning deeply with a sighing voice of bronze, the striking of the
Inta,
the notes shaking and chilling the night. It went on and on, time brought to a halt, and Kurt knelt and held her dead weight against his shoulder until at last one of the younger priests came and knelt, holding out his hands in entreaty.

“Human,” said the priest, “please, for decency’s sake,—let us take her from this holy place.”

“Does she pollute your shrine?” he asked, suddenly trembling with outrage. “She could have killed every living thing on the shores of the Ome Sin. She could not even kill one man.”

“Human,” said t’Senife, half kneeling beside him. “Human, let them have her. They will treat her honorably.”

He looked up into the narrow Sufaki eyes and saw grief there. The priests pulled Djan from him gently, and he made the effort to rise, his clothes soaked with her blood. He shook so that he almost fell, and turned dazed eyes upon the temple square, where a line of Indras guards had ranged themselves. Still the
Inta
sounded, numbing the very air and in small groups men came moving slowly toward the shrine.

They were Sufaki.

He was suddenly aware that all around him were Sufaki, save for the distant line of Indras swordsmen who stood screening the approach to the temple.

He looked back, realizing they had taken Djan. She was gone, the last human face of his own universe that he would ever see. He heard Pai crying desolately, and almost absently bent and drew her to her feet, passing her into t’Senife’s care.

“Come with me,” he bade t’Senife. “Please. The Indras will not attack. I will get you both to safety. There should be no more killing in this place.”

T’Senife yielded, nodded to his companion, tired men, both of them, with tired, sorrowful faces.

They came down the long steps. Indras turned, ready to take the three Sufaki, the men and the
chan
Pai, in charge, but Kurt put himself between.

“No,” he said. “There is no need. We have lost t’Nethim; they have lost a Methi. She is dead. Let them be.”

One was t’Nechis, who heard that news soberly and bowed and prevented his men. “If you look for Kta t’Elas,” said t’Nechis, “seek him toward the wall.”

“Go your way,” Kurt bade the Sufaki, “or stay with me if you will.”

“I will stay with you,” said t’Senife, “until I know what the Indras plan to do with Nephane.” There was cynicism in his voice, but it surely masked a certain fear, and the Methi’s guards walked with him as he walked behind the Indras line in search of Kta.

He found Kta among the men of Isulan, with his leg bandaged and with Isthain now secure at his belt. Kta looked up in shock—joy damped by fear. Kurt looked down at his bloody hand and found it trembling and his knees likely to give out.

“Djan is dead,” said Kurt.

“Are you all right?” Kta asked.

Kurt nodded, and jerked his head toward the Sufaki. “They were her guards. They deserve honor of that.”

Kta considered them, inclined his head in respect. “T’Senife,—help us. Stand by us for a time, so that your people may see that we mean them no harm. We want the fighting stopped.”

The rumor was spreading among the people that the Methi was dead. The
Inta
had not ceased to sound. The crowd in the square increased steadily.

“It is Bel t’Osanef,” said Toj t’Isulan.

It was in truth Bel, coming slowly through the crowd, pausing to speak a word, exchange a glance with one he knew. Among some his presence evoked hard looks and muttering, but he was not alone. Men came with him, men whose years made the crowd part for them, murmuring in wonder: the elders of the Sufaki.

Kta raised a hand to draw his attention, Kurt beside him, though it occurred to him what vulnerable targets they both were.

“Kta,” Bel said, “Kta, is it true,—the Methi is dead?”

“Yes,” said Kta, and to the elders, who expressed their grief in soft murmurings: “That was not planned. I beg you, come into the Afen. I will swear on my life you will be safe.”

“I have already sworn on mine,” said Bel. “They will hear you. We Sufaki are accustomed to listen, and you Indras to making laws. This time the decision will favor us both, my friend, or we will not listen.”

“We could please some in Indresul,” said Kta, “by disavowing you. But we will not do that. We will meet Ylith-methi as one city.”

“If we can unite to surrender,” said one elder, “we can to fight.”

Then it came to Kurt, like an incredibly bad dream: the human weapons in the citadel.

He fled, startling Kta, startling the Indras, so that the guard at the gate nearly ran him through before he recognized him in the dark.

But Elas’ human had leave to go where he would.

Heart near to bursting, Kurt raced through the battlefield of the court, up the stairs, into the heights of the Afen.

Even those on watch in the Methi’s hall did not challenge him until he ordered them sharply from the room and drew his
ypan
and threatened them. They yielded before his wild frenzy, hysterical as he was, and fled out.

“Call t’Elas,” a young son of Ilev urged the others. “He can deal with this madman.”

Kurt slammed the door and locked it, overturned the table and wrestled it into position against the door, working with both hands now, barring it with yet more furniture. They struck it from the outside, but it was secure. Then they went away.

He sank down, trembling, too weary to move. In time he heard the voice of Kta, of Bel, even Pai pleading with him.

“What are you doing?” Kta cried through the door. “My friend, what do you plan to do?”

But it was a Sufaki’s voice, not Bel’s, that urged on him the inevitable.

“You hold the weapons that could destroy the Indras fleet, that could free our city. A curse on you if you will not help us!”

But only Kta and Bel did he answer, and then always the same: “Go away. I am staying here.”

In time they did go away, and he relaxed somewhat, until he heard a gentle stirring at his barricade.

“Who is there?” he shouted out.

“My lord,” said Pai’s fearful voice from near the floor. “My lord, you will not use those weapons, will you?”

“No,” he said, “I will not.”

“They would have forced you. Not Kta. Not Bel. They would not harm you. But some would have forced you. They wanted to attack. Kta persuaded them not to. Please, may I come in?”

“No, Pai. I do not trust even you.”

“I will watch here all night, my lord. I will tell you if they come.”

“You do not blame me—because I will not do what they want?”

There was a long hesitation. “Djan also would not do what they wished. I honored her. I will watch for you, my lord. Rest. I will not sleep.”

He sat down then on the only remaining chair, with his head leaning back, and though he did not intend to, he slept for little periods. Sometimes he would ask Pai whether she slept—but her voice was always there, faithful and calm.

Then came morning, through the glass of the window that overlooked the west. When he went to look out, the sullen light exposed the whole of a great war fleet moving into the harbor.

Ylith’s fleet had come.

He waited for a long time after they had docked. There was no sign of fighting. Eventually he sent Pai downstairs to spy out what was happening.

“There are Indras lords in the lower hall,” she reported, “strangers. But they have been told you are here. They are trying to decide whether to attack this door or not. My lord, I am afraid.”

“Leave the door,” he told her. But she did not. He still heard her stirring occasionally outside.

Then he went around the various centers of the section, wrecking machinery, smashing delicate circuits.

“What are you doing?” Pai cried, when she heard the noise.

He did not trouble to answer. He dismantled the power sources as far as he could, the few handweapons he found also, everything. Then he took away the barricade before the door.

She waited outside, her large eyes wide with fear and with wonder,—perhaps no little shock, for he was filthy and bloody and almost staggering with exhaustion.

“They have not threatened you?” he asked.

She bowed her head gravely. “No, lord. They feared to make you angry. They know the power of the weapons.”

“Let us go to Elas.”

“I am
chan
to Methis,” she said. “It is not proper for me to quit my station.”

“I am afraid for you with conditions as they are. Visit Elas with me.”

She bowed very deeply, straightened and walked beside him.

The shock of seeing him in the lower hall all but paralyzed the men of Indresul, who watched there with a few of the Indras of Nephane. The presence of Nephanites among the occupying forces heartened him somewhat.

“The weapons,” he said, “are dismantled beyond my ability to repair them. I am going to Elas if you want to find me.”

And to his own surprise they let him pass, and puzzled guards on the Street of the Families did also, for a man of Indresul walked after them, watching them, his presence guarding them.

“No harm must come to you,” said that man at last. “This is the order of the Methi Ylith.”

 

There was no Hef to tend the door of Elas. Kurt opened it for himself and with Pai behind him entered its shadows. He stopped at the door of the
rhmei,
for he had not washed from the fighting and he wished to bring no pollution into the peace of that hall.

Kta rose to his feet from the chair of Nym, his face touched with deep relief. By him on lesser chairs sat Bel, Aimu, elders of the Sufaki and a stranger,—Vel t’Elas-in-Indresul.

Kurt bowed, realizing he had interrupted something of great moment, that an Indras of the shining city sat at this hearth.

“I beg your leave,” he said. “I have finished at the Afen. No human weapons threaten your peace any longer. Tell your Methi that, Vel t’Elas.”

“I had assured Ylith-methi,” said Kta, his voice even but full of controlled feeling, “that this would be your choice. Is that Pai t’Erefe with you?”

“She needed a place for a time,” he said. “If Elas will accept her as a guest.”

“Elas is honored,” murmured Kta. “Go wash, and come and sit with us, friend Kurt. We are in the midst of serious business.” But before he went upstairs, Kta left his guests and came to him in the hall.

“It was well done,” said Kta softly. “My friend, my brother Kurt,—go and wash, and come down to us. We are solving matters. It is a three- and a four-round problem, but the Methi Ylith has vowed to stay in port until it is done. We will talk here; then we will go down to the port to tell her our decisions. There are others of our cousins of Indresul in their several houses at this moment, and each Indras house has taken Sufaki among them, to shelter them at the sanctity of their hearths until this matter is resolved. Not a Sufaki will be harmed, who accepts house-friendship and the peace of our roofs.”

“Would they all come?”

“No,—not all, not all. But perhaps the violent ones have fled to their hills, or perhaps they will come down in peace when they see it possible. But on every door of Sufak some Indras Family has set its seal; there will be no plundering. And at every hearth we have taken house-friends. This we did,—while you barricaded yourself behind the Afen door.”

Kurt managed a smile. “And that,” he said, “was well done too. Am I still welcome here?”

“You are of Elas,” Kta exclaimed indignantly. “
Of
this hearth and not simply beside it. Go upstairs.”

“I have to find t’Nethim’s family,” he protested.

“This has been done.—I need you,” Kta insisted. “
I
need you. Elas does. When Ylith-methi knows what you have done, and she will, I have no doubt that she will wish to see you, and you cannot go like that, and you cannot go ignorant of the business of your hearth.”

He nodded wearily, felt for the stairs.

“Kta,” said Bel softly. “See to him if you wish, personally. We will keep peace at your hearth until you return—surely, my lord of Indresul. Perhaps we can even find some things to discuss while you are gone if my lady wife will bring us another round of tea.”

Kta considered the two of them, grave old Vel and the young Sufaki of his own age. Then he gave them a bemused slight bow and guided Kurt toward the stairs.

“Come,” he said. “You are home, my friend.”

HUNTER OF WORLDS

1

Halfway through the second watch the ship put into Kartos Station—the largest thing ever seen in the zone, a gleaming silver agglomeration of vanes cradling an immense saucer body. It was an Orithain craft, with no markings of nationality or identification: the Orithain disdained such conventions.

It nestled in belly-on, larger than the station itself, positioned beside an amaut freighter off Isthe II that was completely dwarfed by its bulk. The umbilical of the tube, the conveyor-connection, went out to it, scarcely long enough to reach, although the Orithain’s grapples had drawn herself and the Station into relative proximity.

As soon as that connection was secure, five members of the crew disembarked, four men and a woman. They were kallia, like many of the Station personnel—a race that belonged to Qao V, a tall graceful folk, azure-skinned and silver-haired; but these had never seen the surface of Aus Qao: each bore on the right wrist the platinum bracelet that marked a nas kame, a servant of the Orithain.

The visitors moved at will through the market, where amaut and kalliran commerce linked the civilized worlds, the
metrosi,
with the Esliph stars. They spoke not at all to each other, but paused together and occasionally designated purchases—lots that depleted whole sections of the market, to be delivered immediately.