At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (65 page)

“I’m afraid in there,” she said. The tears began again, and stopped abruptly as Tejef seized her by the arms and made her straighten. He cuffed her ever so lightly, as a
dhisais
would a favored but misbehaving child.

“This is not proper—being afraid. Stand straight. You are
nas.
” And he let her go very suddenly when he realized the phrase he had thoughtlessly echoed. He was ashamed. But the child did as he told her, and composed herself as he had done for old Nophres.

“May I please go up and stay with Margaret too, sir?”

“Later. I promise this.” The prospect did not please him, having her outside the
dhis,
but the illusions must cease, for both their sakes: the child was human, and there was no one left in the
dhis
to care for her. The time was fast running out, and it was not right that the child should be alone in this great place to die. She should be near adults, who would show her
chanokhia
in their own example.

“Are you going there now?” Arle asked.

“Yes,” he conceded. He looked back at her standing there, fingers still clenched together. “Come,” he said then, holding out his hand. “Come, now. With me.”

 

Most of the lights in the
paredre
of
Ashanome
were out save the ones above the desk, but Chimele knew well the shadowy figure that opened the hall door, a smallish and somewhat heavy iduve who crossed the carpets on silent feet. She straightened and lifted her chin from her hand to gaze on Rakhi’s plump, earnest face.

“You were to sleep,” he chided. “Chimele, you must sleep.”

“I shall. I wanted to know how you fared. Sit, Rakhi. How is Chaikhe?”

“Well enough, and bound for Weissmouth. We considered, and decided it would be best to pursue this adjustment long-distance.”

“But is the
asuthithekkhe
bearable, Rakhi?”

The
nasith
gave a weak grin and massaged his freshly scarred temple. “Chaikhe bids your affairs prosper, Chimele-Orithain. She is very much with me at this moment.”

“I bid hers prosper, most earnestly. But now you must close down that contact. We two must talk a moment. Can you do so?”

“I am learning,” he replied, and leaned back with a sigh. “Done. Done.
Au,
Chimele, this is a fearsome closeness. It is embarrassing.”

“O my Rakhi,” said Chimele in distress, “Khasif is gone. Now I have sent Ashakh in his place, and to risk you and Chaikhe at once—”

“Why, it is a light thing,” he said. “Do not mere
m’metanei
adjust to this? Is our intelligence not equal to it? Is our self-control not more than theirs?”

She smiled dutifully at his spirit. It was not as easy as Rakhi said, and she did not miss the trembling of his hands, the pain in his eyes; and for Chaikhe,
katasathe,
such proximity to a half
sra
male must be torment indeed. But of the three remaining
nasithi-katasakke
this pairing had seemed best, for Ashakh’s essentially solitary nature would have made
asuthithekkhe
more painful still.

“Chaikhe is really bearing up rather well,” said Rakhi, “but I fear I shall have Ashakh to deal with when he sees her on Priamos and knows that I have—in a manner—touched her. I really do not see how we will keep this from him if he is still to direct Weissmouth operations. He will sense something amiss a decad of
lioi
distant.”

“Well, you must advise Chaikhe to avoid
harachia.
Ashakh must remain ignorant of this arrangement, for I fear he could complicate matters beyond redemption. And do not you fail me, Rakhi. I have been confounded by one
dhisais
male human, and if you develop any symptoms I insist you warn me immediately.”

Rakhi laughed outright, although he flushed dark with embarrassment. “Truly, Chimele,
asuthithekkhe
is not so impossible for iduve as it was always supposed to be. Chaikhe and I—we maintain a discreet distance in our minds. We leave one another’s emotions alone, and I suppose it has helped that I am a very lazy fellow and that Chaikhe’s
m’melakhia
is directed toward her songs and the child she carries.”

“Rakhi, Rakhi, you are always deprecating yourself, and that is a
metane
trait.”

“But it is true,” Rakhi exclaimed. “Quite true. I have a very profound theory about it. Chaikhe and I would be at each other’s throats otherwise. Could you imagine the result of an
asuthithekkhe
between Ashakh and myself? I shudder at the thought. His
arastiethe
would devour me. But the direction of
m’melakhia
is the essential thing. Chaikhe and I have no
m’melakhia
toward each other. In truth,” he added upon a thought, “the
m’metanei
misinformed us, for they said strong
m’melakhia
one for the other is essential. I shall make a detailed record of this experience. I think it is unique.”

“I shall find it of great interest,” Chimele assured him. “But it would be a great bitterness to me if harm comes to you or to her.”

“The novelty of the experience is exhilarating, but it is a great strain. I wonder if the
m’metanei
predict correctly when they say that the strain grows less in time. Perhaps the converse will occur for iduve there too. I surely hope not.”

“As do I,
nasith.
Will you go rest now?”

“I will, yes.”

“Only do this: advise Chaikhe that Ashakh will be within Weissmouth itself, and she must remain in isolation and wait for my orders. I am summoning up all ships save the two that will remain in port. Mejakh has cost us. I fear the cost may run higher still.”

“Ashakh?”

She ignored the question. “May your sleep be secure, o
nas.
”

“Honor be yours, Chimele.”

She watched him go, heard the door close, and rested her forehead once more on her hands, restoring her composure. Rakhi was the last, the last of all her brave
nasithi,
and it was lonely knowing that others had the direction of
Ashanome,
that for the first time in nine thousand years the controls were not even under the nominal management of one of her
sra.
She bore the guilt for that. Of the fierceness of her own
arastiethe,
she had postponed bearing the necessary heir until it was too late for the long ceremonies of
kataberihe,
and
vaikka
had taken heavy toll of those about her. Mejakh was gone, her
sra
on the point of extinction: Khasif and Tejef together. Tamnakh’s
sra
was in imminent danger: Ashakh and Chaikhe and the unborn child in her; and if Rakhi
sra
-Khuretekh suffered madness and died, then the
orith-sra
of
Ashanome
came down to her alone.

She felt a keen sense of
m’melakhia
for Tejef, for the adversary he had been, a deep and fierce appreciation. He had run them a fine chase indeed, off the edge of the charts and into
likatis
and
tomes
unknown to iduve. And
Ashanome’
s victory would be bitter indeed to
Tashavodh,
dangerously bitter.

Perhaps to ease the sting of it a
nas-katasakke
of Kharxanen could be requested for
kataberihe,
for
Tashavodh’
s
m’melakhia
to gain
sra
within the
orith-sra
of
Ashanome
was of long standing. Chaxal her predecessor had refused it, and Chimele bristled at the thought: she would bear the heir
Ashanome
needed, perhaps two for safety’s sake, as rapidly as her health could bear. Then she could declare dissatisfaction with her mate and send him packing to his own
nasul
in dishonor; that would not be a proper
vaikka
—the Orithanhe forbade—but it would be pleasant.

But defeat—at the hands of Tejef and
Tashavodh
—to see him welcomed in triumph—was unthinkable. She would not bear it.

And there was that growing fear.
Ashanome
had been set back, and this was not an accustomed thing. It had been a hard decision, to sacrifice Khasif. In accepting risk, iduve disliked the irrational, a situation with too many variables. Were there any choice, common sense would dictate withdrawal; but there was no choice, and Tejef would surely seize upon the smallest weakness, the least hesitation: he was unorthodox and rash himself,
e-chanokhia
—but such qualities sometimes made for unpleasant surprises for his adversaries. Occasionally Isande could win at games of reason; the human Daniel had confounded skillfully laid plans by doing what no iduve would have done; and Qaoborn Aiela managed to have his own way of an Orithain much more often than was proper. The fact was that
m’metanei
often bypassed the safe course. At times they did bluff, opposing themselves empty-handed to forces they ill understood, everything in the balance. This was not courage in the iduve sense, to whom acting as if one had what one did not smacked of falsity and unreason, which indicated a certain bent toward insanity. For the Orithain of
Ashanome
to bluff was indeed impossible:
arastiethe
and
sorithias
forbade.

But reversing the proposition, to allow another to assume he had what he did not, that was
chanokhia,
a
vaikka
with humor indeed, if it worked. It it did not—the loss must be reckoned proportional to the failure of gain.

Her eyes strayed to the clock. As another figure turned over, the last hour of the night had begun. Soon the morning hour would begin the last day of Tejef’s life, or of her own.

“Chimele,” said the voice from control: Raxomeqh, fourth of the Navigators. “Projection from
Mijanothe.
”

Predictable, if not predicted, Chimele sighed wearily and rose. “Accepted,” she said, and saw herself and her desk suddenly surrounded by the
paredre
of
Mijanothe.
She bowed respectfully before aged Thiane.

“Hail Thiane, venerable and honored among us.”

“Hail
Ashanome,
” said Thiane, leaning upon her staff, her eyes full of fire. “But do I hail you reckless or simply forgetful?”

“I am aware of the time, eldest of us all.”

“And I trust memory also has not failed you.”

“I am aware of your displeasure, reverend Thiane. So am I aware that the Orithanhe has given me this one more day, so despite your expressed wish, you have no power to order me otherwise.”

Thiane’s staff thudded against the carpeting. “You are risking somewhat more than my displeasure, Chimele. Destroy Priamos!”

“I have kamethi and
nasithi
who must be evacuated. I estimate that as possible within the limit prescribed by the Orithanhe. I will comply with the terms of the original and proper decree at all deliberate speed.”

“There is no time for equivocation. Standing off to moonward is
Tashavodh,
if you have forgotten. I have restrained Kharxanen with difficulty from seeking a meeting with you at this moment.”

“I honor you for your wisdom, Thiane.”

“Destroy Priamos.”

“I will pursue my own course to the limit of the allotted time. Priamos will be destroyed or Tejef will be in our hands.”

“If,” said Thiane, “if you do this so that it seems
vaikka
upon
Tashavodh,
then,
Ashanome,
run far, for I will either outlaw you, Chimele, and see you hunted to Tejef’s fate, or I will see the
nasul Ashanome
itself hunted from star to star to all time. This I will do.”

“Neither will you do, Thiane, for if I am declared exile, I will seek out
Tashavodh
and kill Kharxanen and as many of his
sra
as I can reach when they take me aboard. I am sure he will oblige me.”

“Simplest of all to hear me and destroy Priamos. I am of many years and much travel, Chimele. I have seen the treasures of many worlds, and I know the value of life. But Priamos itself is not unique, not the sole repository of this species nor essential to the continuance of human culture. Our reports indicate even the human authorities abandoned it as unworthy of great risk in its defense. Need I remind you how far a conflict between
Tashavodh
and
Ashanome
could spread, through how many star systems and at what hazard to our own species and life in general?”

“It is not solely in consideration of life on Priamos that I delay. It is my
arastiethe
at stake. I have begun a
vaikka
and I will finish it on my own terms.”

“Your
m’melakhia
is beyond limit. If your
arastiethe
can support such ambition, well; and if not, you will perish miserably, and your dynasty will perish with you.
Ashanome
will become a whisper among the
nasuli,
a breath, a nothing.”

“I have told you my choice.”

“And I have told you mine. Hail
Ashanome.
I give you honor now. When next we meet, it may well be otherwise.”

“Hail
Mijanothe,
” said Chimele, and sank into her chair as the projection flicked out.

For a moment she remained so. Then with a steady voice she contacted Raxomeqh.

“Transmission to Weissmouth base two,” she directed, and the
paredre
of the lesser ship in Weissmouth came into being about her. Ashakh greeted her with a polite nod.

“Chaikhe is landing,” said Chimele, “but I forbid you to wait to meet her or to seek any contact with her.”

“Am I to know the reason?”

“In this matter, no. What is Aiela’s status?”

“Indeterminate. The amaut are searching street by street with considerable commotion. I have awaited your orders in this matter.”

“Arm yourself, locate Aiela, and go to him. Follow his advice.”

“Indeed,” Ashakh looked offended, as well he might. His
arastiethe
had grown troublesome in its intensity in the
nasul:
it had suffered considerably in her service already. She chose not to react to his recalcitrance now and his expression became instead bewildered.