Maeve (12 page)

Mouth tight with disgust, the engineer took the letter with the tips of his fingers. After dropping it onto the console, he plucked a handkerchief from his sleeve and rubbed vigorously at the battered paper. Then he dropped the handkerchief on the floor and examined the seal. “Chu Manhanu.”

“Right.” Aleytys let her foot swing a little. She was getting tired of maintaining a casual pose while tension knotted her stomach. Too many things could go wrong even now.

“I presume you know what's in here.”

“Read it.” She slid off the swivel chair and moved past him to stand in the doorway. “Let's take a walk. This place makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Flicking a fold in the paper against his thumb, he smiled. His sudden flush of triumph warned her that he planned something, but she waited quietly for him to join her. Absently, he thrust the still unopened letter into his sleeve, drawing his hand out as he came up to her. Then that hand flicked out and she felt a hard pressure against her side. “Your cludair friends might be willing to make a trade. After, we ask you some questions.”

She shrugged. “I used an energy gun on the probe. It's a lump of slag.”

“Too bad. Move.”

The diadem chimed softly, flickering into substance around her head. Calmly she stepped away from the sleeve gun. “Thanks, Harskari,” The yellow eyes looked amused but impatient. Hastily Aleytys pried the tube from the engineer's stiff fingers. “Okay, my friend. I have it.”

“Happy to serve, young Aleytys.” The amber eyes twinkled. “You do keep us busy.”

“Sorry.” Holding the reluctantly moving tube, she backed off a few paces. The diadem chimed a second time and melted away.

The engineer stumbled as the flesh he had been braced against was suddenly removed. He stared at Aleytys who stood a full meter from him, the sleeve gun held casually in her hand. “How …”

“Show blue to a man born blind.” She jerked her head toward the outer door. “Walk with me to the edge of the forest.”

The engineer took a step backwards, black eyes narrowing.

Aleytys sighed. “Don't be an idiot. I don't know your name.”

“Han Lushan,” he said absently, black eyes darting about as he looked for a way to escape.

“Don't be an idiot, Lushan. I don't have to lure you anywhere. If I want to spend the energy, you'll go where I want whenever I want.”

“You think so?” Anger stiffened the muscles of his face. He straightened and glared at her.

“You want it that way?” She leaned slightly toward him, blue-green eyes glittering. Her insides quivered sickly as she waited to see if her bluff would work.

After a stiff minute, he shrugged. “Relax, woman. What happens now?”

She backed against the wall. “Move outside.”

He brushed past her and thrust the heavy door open, metal knocking against metal with a dull clang.

She moved out quickly before he could slam it shut in her face. The heat and humidity hit her like a blow. She sighed and brushed a hand over her forehead, wiping away the sudden beads of sweat.

He smiled grimly, black eyes hard. “I'm interested in seeing how you handle the trap your cludair friends are in. You've got nothing to bargain with. Try to hold Chu Manhanu hostage and you invite massive retaliation. The house of Chu will assume he has suicided whether or not he has the will to do it. Or the opportunity. They'll burn the forest to an inch thick layer of sludge.”

“You underestimate the cludair.” She moved to his side and together they began strolling toward the edge of the clearing. “To say nothing of me.”

“Stupid savages.” He looked at the forest frowning. “Spears to fight rifles.”

“Don't you wish you had even a spear.” She stopped and leaned back against a massive trunk. Flipping a hand at the ruined harvester, she asked, “Talking of stupid, why's a man with your ability stuck on that thing?”

“Ability is not always admired, witch. Especially when combined with a hasty temper.” He reached back and undid the clasp that held his thick straight hair clubbed at the nape of his neck. “House of Chu,” he said as he cupped the clasp in a hand. He pointed at the insignia on the side of the harvester. “Chu. I'll be lucky to keep my head on my shoulders.”

“Why?”

“That son of Chu. You think he'll leave witnesses around if by some chance he comes out of this?”

“I hadn't thought of that.” She let her head fall back against the rough fragrant bark and stared at the shreds of cloud blowing across the sky. “How many villages did you burn out?”

He snorted. “I bombed hell out of a bunch of trees. Lifescopes couldn't find a sniff of a single concentration of hot bodies. Anyone killed we got by accident.”

Aleytys looked at him, startled by the sudden change in his personality. “Huh. You've peeled off a mask or two. Why the change?”

“Why not. No reason to keep on playing the loyal Company man.” He stretched and yawned, the heavy, humid breeze blowing his coarse black hair around his face. “It's a relief. To be myself a short while.”

“But you'll put the face back on again when you're back inside.” She nodded at the harvester.

“Of course. One must survive.” He ran his eyes over her, moving from the top of her head to her feet then back to her face. “Who are you?”

“Nobody. Nothing. A woman.”

“McNeis?”

“Back to that? No.” She wrinkled her nose. “My being here is accident. A hesitation in my wandering, engineer of the house of Chu.”

“Not Chu.” She frowned as she heard the anger in his voice. “Not Chu,” he repeated. “Look” He held out the hair clasp and traced the design with a forefinger. “House of Han.” He bent the clasp back and forth until it broke into two roughly equal pieces. He handed her one and stuck the other into his sleeve. “My house is Han.” His mouth curled into a tight sardonic smile. “I said I had a hasty temper. A mistake to flaunt that sigil.”

“Why?”

“Han's in disgrace. But we're not erased from the Book yet.” He pointed at the piece of clasp she was swinging between her thumb and forefinger. “You owe me, witch. You owe house of Han a favor for my life.”

“Nonsense.” She dropped the clasp as if it was hot.

He picked it up and thrust it at her again. “I don't say I won't get out of this. Keep that, witch. Show it and you'll be welcome in my father's house.”

“Hunh! An odd sort of blackmail. I don't owe you anything.”

“Blame me for trying?”

“Certainly not. All right.” She closed her fingers over the bit of soft metal. “Walk your tightrope, engineer. I hope you don't fall off.”

“I won't I suppose I should wish you luck.” He sighed and the relaxed, smiling man who had been chatting with her slid into the cold, amoral Company servant. “The Company wants you, woman. Take care.”

Chapter XV

Aleytys turned her back on the charred gap in the forest green. “So no cludair were caught.”

Tipylexne's pointed ears twitched. His lips curled back to expose outsize canines. “Our Xalpsalp dreamed the warning to the widow of each circle and the people dispersed, as you said. The houses were destroyed but life goes on. There are other circles waiting for the people.”

For several minutes they walked in silence in the bright gloom under the trees. Ahead, the muted sound of construction and the shriller sounds of cludair voices floated back to them.

“You were lucky to find a circle so close to home.”

Tipylexne chuckled. “The seed was planted in my father's time. The Khaghliclighmay clan was growing strongly so Father of Men prepared for the time of splitting. When the mother tree had grown a seed, he planted it.” They walked into the clearing. “Here.” He swung a hand around indicating the circle of home trees. “These all share a common root system. Underground …” He stamped on the barren earth. “The roots grow together making a web that kills other growth and clears the ground for us.” He pointed upward. “The trees grow independently until one branch touches another then these grow together so that after a number of years we have many strong pathways on different levels circling the clearing.” His shoulders lifted in sad resignation. “It takes many years to grow a hometree circle until it can support a settlement. And the seeds themselves take thirty years to mature. When our clan splits next year, those who leave won't be able to stay close. I don't know where they can go. It will be difficult, so many clans without homes because of the starmen.”

A girl planting wirebush in the notch where a limb grew out of a trunk saw them and called out a greeting. “Hey-aa, Father of Men, fire sister.”

“Hey-aa, little cricket. How goes the planting?”

“Wirebush is being stubborn. He grows angry because he is moved from his seed rooting and he threatens to die for sheer spite.” She laughed and returned to her coaxing, crooning the stubborn weed into acceptance of its new location.

“She seems very skilled at what she is doing.”

Tipylexne nodded. “If Inkatay reaches the fullness of age, she will be Xalpsalp, as Qilasc is now. She has the gift.”

Aleytys saw abruptly how little she knew of the day-to-day life of the cludair and felt a brief depression at this reminder that she was an outsider and didn't belong here. She shrugged off the momentary gloom as Qilasc came into the clearing.

Behind her, several males marched in single file, bent over under the weight of huge curving sheets of bark. Behind them came others loaded down with sticky coils of vine. They placed their burdens in the center of the clearing next to bark and vine already piled high. As they turned to retrace their steps, Chu Manhanu came stalking into the busy clearing, a scowl twisting his narrow face. Behind him, his adolescent honor guard strutted with obvious pride in their task.

The two processions met. Qilasc stepped back, moved her sinewy body in a complicated obeisance, rule beads clacking loud in the sudden silence. As she straightened, Manhanu swept past with a brief nod, the amenities having been observed, giving him back some of the honor snatched so precipitously from him at his capture.

Aleytys moved back so that Tipylexne stood between her and the dark, angry eyes of the Director. Although the cludair's head barely topped her and his body was lean and wiry rather than bulky, she felt better with less of herself showing to exacerbate the tension in the situation. As the prancing boys followed their charge into the forest on the far side of the clearing, she said quietly, “He seems to be accepting his detention better than I expected.”

His canines flashing briefly as the corners of his mouth curled up, Tipylexne looked after the Director. “He's been very careful to avoid any situation where we'd have to make clear the difference between guest and prisoner.”

“Oh. I suppose that's a good sign.”

“We'll know when the council meets and the bargaining begins.”

“Have you decided what you want from him?”

“Yes. Nothing.” His eyes went back to her. After a moment's grave consideration, he went on. “His absence and the right to live our own lives in our own way.”

A group of children ran chattering past them. The tip of his mobile nose twitching, Tipylexne watched them while they circled in noisy excitement around Ghastay as he strutted along practicing trills on his flute.

“Changes.” Aleytys touched his arm. “We've interferred, Gwynnor and me.”

“If silence has value, it will return to balance when balance returns to our life.”

“When I'm gone.” She saw the mob greet Gwynnor and the whole flock disappear along the path toward the burnt-out clearing. “When we're both gone.”

Tipylexne nodded.

The long day chugged along with agonizing tedium. Restless and irritable, Aleytys wandered about watching the women rebuild the houses and put the new settlement in order. Qilasc and Tipylexne were too busy to talk to her for more than a few minutes and she felt guilty when they left off their work to answer her aimless questions. She fidgeted about the circle until a cludair apologized courteously the third time for stumbling over her. Then she ran her fingers through her hair and stalked off into the forest, heading for the stream.

Gwynnor had his apprentices practicing their fingering and running over and over and over a simple progression of notes. He looked up and smiled briefly at her then went back to work, correcting and praising. Aleytys leaned against the bole of a smooth-barked giant, but the deadly dullness of the exercises soon drove her off down the stream.

When distance and intervening trees muted the practice session to a distant thread of sound that blended happily with the brush-brush of water song, she dropped onto a thick patch of grass padding the bank and watched the water slip past her toes. After a while, she curled up and went to sleep, a heavy daze filled with bad dreams and too many memories.

“Aleytys.” A hand shook her lightly.

She came slowly from the sodden depths of her stupor and blinked up into Tipylexne's shadowed face. Grunting with effort, she pushed her stiff body up to sit with her hands pressed against her aching head. “Madar,” she groaned, “this was a mistake.”

“Mistake.”

“Sleeping.” Her body felt heavy, unwieldy, her mind sluggish. “What time is it?”

“First fire. My woman asks that you share our evening meal before the council gathers.”

“How goes the building?”

“Completed.”

“Already?”

He looked amused. “Yes, fire sister. The forest is generous to those who ask properly.” He dropped beside her with a loose, easy fall, sitting on his heels, knees spread so that he could bend close to her, nostrils flaring as his cat eyes scanned her face. “You are without peace.”

His closeness set her nerves on edge. Quietly, because she liked and respected him, she touched his cheek, then shifted her body, tactfully pretending to search for a more comfortable position. As she moved, she brushed against his leg. The touch of the soft silky fur over the hardness of muscle brought her a sudden intense awareness of his maleness.