Shaman (17 page)

“They—they didn't secure permission. They were trying to get out—to get a message to Collective about this siege.”
That was heroic of them
, her eyes said.

“Of all the idiotic —” Bekwe made an exasperated gesture. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that I know of. The Tsong Zee snagged it with that beam-net while it was trying to make position for Shift. They almost made it, too,” she added.

“Did they get a message off?” asked Danetta. She hovered tensely at Joseph's shoulder.

Alleen Goodyear gave her a steady, gimlet look that nearly took the gold enamel off her fingernails. “I don't know. I hope so. Why don't you ask your Orca friends?”

“Alleen, that kind of sarcasm is uncalled for,” said Bekwe. “I realize this is a stressful situation. It's stressful for everyone.”

Goodyear took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, you're right, of course. I'm sorry, Joseph. I'll look into the safety of the freighter's crew.”

“Thank you. Rhys, I'd appreciate it if you and your associates would speak to the Tsong Zee about this... latest development. I have a bone to pick with Harris Beneton.”

o0o

“We do not know if a message was sent,” said Keere. “But this sort of betrayal will not be tolerated.” He stood with his shoulder to Rhys, pointedly refusing to look at him. His apprentice echoed the posture, while Brasn and his apprentice sat side by side, gazing unblinkingly at Rhys's face.

“There can be no betrayal, Speaker Keere,” Rhys reminded him, “where no loyalty has been established. You are laying siege to this colony. Attempts at escape or communication are to be expected. The only betrayal here was of the governor's trust. In his attempts to deal with you in good faith, he has requested that his people show no hostility—that they cooperate with you... despite the fact that you threaten their lives —”

Keere whirled to face him and Brasn uttered a sharp cry.

Rhys regarded both bemusedly. “How have I offended you? I have simply stated the facts. The Humans here are terrified. What else would impel some of them to attempt such a foolish and dangerous thing as to launch an unarmed ship into the arms of an enemy fleet?”

“Please,” said Brasn, cringing, almost, from Rhys's words. “Please, we wish to be no one's enemies.”

“Then why come to us armed and in such strength? Your ships hover over us like birds of prey. Our people are fearful for their lives. Are you telling me they have no reason to be?”

Brasn and Keere traded unreadable glances. “We did not know what to expect,” said Brasn. “We... chose a display of force—”

“Some among us,” Rhys persisted, “have concluded that you return to this world as the conquerors and destroyers of its native race and culture. That you stole the sense-stone technology you are now using to convince us of your (false) claim.” His eyelids at half-mast, Rhys braced himself for the Tsong Zee reaction.

“This is absurd!” cried Keere. The seamless, glossy face could not disguise his anger. “We are not liars! Nor are we criminals. Nor are we conquerors.” He turned to Brasn. “This is not the way it was to have been, Brasn. We are not monsters, yet these creatures take us as such.”

“It was you who suggested we attempt a show of strength, Keere,” the older Speaker replied mildly. “You voted for such a tactic. Now you are uncertain?” His words carried the spice of sarcasm.

The Trader pressed downward on the empty air with flattened palms. “I was wrong,” he said, and turned to Rhys. “Our intent is not to conquer. Our intent is only to prove our claim to this, our world. “

“By threat of force? Or do you now claim that the massive fleet we're besieged by is an empty threat?”

“No, not an empty threat,” said Brasn slowly. “We could simply... exterminate all of you. There would be ample time for that, even if the freighter was able to summon your fleet.”

Rhys spread his arms and rose from his chair. “Then perhaps you should do so. Your threats would seem to make any proof irrelevant —”

“No! Not irrelevant. We have no wish to cause you undue distress. We simply wish to return to our home.”

Rhys made a Tsong Zee gesture that said, “Help me to help you.” Palms up, he pushed his open hands, endmost fingers linked, toward the Tsong Zee Speaker. “If I could be convinced of your story of Keys and Shrines...”

Brasn rose from his own chair and paced around it. His apprentice eyed him anxiously while Keere kept impassive eyes on Rhys and Rick.

“Speaker Rhys, if you were Tsong Zee, there would be no problem with certitude. You would simply know we spoke the truth; the Trade would prove it.”

Rhys glanced significantly at Rick. “The Trade? What is that?”

“It is the way in which we have come to solve our differences over the last two millennia. We have developed the ability to... empathize with each other. No, it goes much beyond that. When two Tsong Zee deal in kind, they visit each other's hearts and minds. They... trade places with each other.”

Rick let out a low whistle. “Walk a mile in my shoes!” he murmured.

Rhys felt a hot, white eagerness rippling beneath his fetish bag. Trade places! The very idea of it was... astounding, exhilarating, terrifying. “Are you so sure we cannot negotiate in kind, Brasn? We are people. You are people.”

“If you were people,” said Keere cuttingly, “you would have felt immediately the sacredness of this place you call Haifa.”

Brasn made a hissing noise with his bifurcated upper lip and rounded on Keere as if to admonish him, but Rhys gestured him to calm, turning to Keere himself.

“How do you know we have not felt its sacredness? We have named it after a most sacred place on our own homeworld. Is that not significant? Of the mountains that march away from this city, we have named many after the most sacred mountains of our own world: Carmel, Paran, Sinai, to name but a few. Does that not mean something? Every human being I have talked to feels something special in their heart of hearts for this world. Which is why Trader Beneton and others are willing to fight to hold it.” He knew he was giving Beneton the benefit of a huge doubt, in that, but —

“I had thought Trader Beneton's attachment to Tson was rather more material than spiritual,” said Brasn, his mouth twisting oddly to one side.

“I make no excuses for Trader Beneton,” said Rhys. “But I can tell you that I, too, feel the... uniqueness of this world. I am not proof to its beauty. And I can also tell you that Trader Price was so intoxicated with it that after only a few days here, she felt the desire to stay for the rest of her life.” Again, he made the help-me-to-help-you gesture and said, “It may be that I cannot deal with you in kind, but should we not be sure of that before we discard the idea? Is there any way we can try?”

Keere and Brasn shared a long look. To Rhys, who was learning to decipher those cryptic glances, it was eloquent.

“We will have to discuss this among ourselves,” said Brasn finally. “Speakers Javar and Parsa will have to be consulted as well.”

“And what shall we be consulted upon?” The outer door had slid back silently, framing Javar and Parsa—without their apprentices, for once—and an unsmiling Yoshi Umeki.

It was Javar who had spoken, and he now moved to seat himself in one of the comfortably padded chairs that formed the circle of consultation. Parsa and Yoshi followed him into the circle, separating only at the last instant to take seats with their respective “sides.”

Yoshi signaled Rhys urgently that she wished to speak with him, but he was distracted by Brasn's voice.

“Speaker Rhys wishes to attempt the Trade.”

Both Tsong Zee uttered expressions of perturbation and turned their startled eyes to the Human Speaker.

“Is this possible?” asked Parsa. “Only Tsong Zee can make the Trade. Is that not so?”

“That is what we have always believed,” said Brasn. “But perhaps our beliefs must now be challenged. We will discuss this when we adjourn to our vessel.”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Keere insisted. “It is impossible for one of these creatures to Trade with us. They are not Tsong Zee.”

Creatures. It was the second time Keere had used the term. If it translated accurately, it indicated the Tsong Zee thought of them as intelligent animals—what science fiction writers had once called “sentient beings.” Sentient, but not People. Rhys was twice as determined to undertake the Trade. It might be the only way he could convince the Tsong Zee that Keere was wrong.

“I would like to try,” he said and, with the force of facial expression and gesture, attempted to impress them with his strong and sincere desire.

Beside him, Yoshi fairly vibrated, obviously bursting with untold tales. Under normal circumstances he might have let her stew for a few more moments—maybe until she began to wave her hand and jump up and down like an over-eager schoolgirl. Now, he yielded to the urgency of the situation and asked the Tsong Zee for permission to withdraw.

“It is near time for us to return to our vessel,” observed Brasn. “We shall conclude our consultation there.”

o0o

“Report, Yoshi?” Rhys asked when the door to the foyer had separated them from the Tsong Zee.

“I think you'd best hear it in the privacy of our headquarters, sir,” she murmured, and headed in that direction, favoring the office staff with sidelong glances.

Rhys and Rick shared a sidelong glance of their own and followed. Once inside, Rhys moved to peer from the window of the office.

Adjacent to the governor's suite, it looked out onto the front plaza of the administration complex. There was still a crowd of people milling rather haphazardly below, some carrying vid-banners proclaiming militant slogans in slowly moving splashes of text. Flowers had been dug up, trees ripped from their containers and islands. Hate slogans decorated the walls about the court, replete with unflattering portraits of the Tsong Zee.

When Yoshi remained silent, he turned to look at her. She was examining the comlink's security scanner. “What are you —?”

“Just making sure no one's listening in.” She came to stand beside him at the window, a look of obvious distress on her face. “I observed the lieutenant governor engaged in surreptitious dealings with Mr. Beneton. While you were all up at the dig with Dr. Kuskov, Ms. Goodyear went out on an errand of her own. She was acting very strangely, so I followed her. She went down to the car park and met Mr. Beneton right underneath that large number ‘4' on the inner north wall by the lev-tubes. I was in a tube, so I couldn't hear them, but I saw Mr. Beneton hand Ms. Goodyear a holo-wafer which Ms. Goodyear then returned to the governor's private data lockup. After she left his office, I slipped in and checked to see which one she'd replaced. It was one of your sessions with the Tsong Zee Speakers.”

Rhys took a deep breath. Alleen Goodyear—traitor or super-patriot? “Well, Roddy. Yoshi has found our mole. Good work, Yosh.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I can't say I'm terribly surprised.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir... . Mole, sir?”

“A sly little bugger who creeps beneath the sod and occasionally causes aggravation and wanton destruction.” His eyes returned to the window with its stunning view down Haifa's broad main boulevard. “We'd better let Joseph and Danetta in on this.”

“People are clamoring for Tsong Zee blood. Beneton's made sure they've been depicted as militaristic monsters—conquerors. Those folks out there in the courtyard are spoiling for a fight. After a while, they're not likely to care who they're fighting or how badly they hurt them. Is that what you wanted to happen?” Governor Bekwe turned his back on the window of his office and gazed at the occupant of the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

Alleen Goodyear did not look at Bekwe. Neither did she look to her right and left where Rhys and Danetta stood. “No, Joseph. Of course not. I just thought that Harris Beneton had the best chance of getting a message to Duet. You were...honor-bound to cooperate with them. He wasn't. I did what I thought was best. I don't hate the Tsong Zee. But I don't see any hope of them sharing Velvet with us. I've put it to them, Professor Llewellyn's put it to them. Every time we broach the subject, they explode. I didn't see any other option.”

“There's a good possibility they've a claim on this world,” said Rhys quietly. “You know that.”

She did look at him then, her eyes spilling resentment down her flushed cheeks. “They ruined it! They abandoned it! If it were a child, someone would have taken it away from them.”

“Someone did. And now that they've mended their ways—or so the legend goes—they're being given a second chance. Ms. Goodyear... Alleen, humanity has had an awful lot of second chances in its long an checkered career. Can we say the Tsong Zee don't deserve one?”

“I've lived here for fifteen years,” she countered. “I love this place. I was going to be married here in a month's time. I would have raised my family here. My whole life is here, dammit! I've no place else to go! Why can't they just stay wherever the hell it is they claim they've been for two millennia?”

“Because they love this place, too. Or at least a good many of them do.” And if they could only be persuaded to share it... . Rhys glanced at Joseph Bekwe. “May we let Alleen go now? I've something else to discuss with you.”

“In a moment. I have one more question for her. Alleen, do you have any idea what Beneton's next move might be?”

She was silent, head drooping over her lap, tears staining the bright silk layers of her skirts.

“Alleen, please. We don't want anyone to be hurt by either the Tsong Zee or Beneton's mobs. Those people are not behaving rationally right now. They're vandalizing the Complex, breaking the windows out of cars and lower floor offices. Security is having a damnable time controlling them. If you have any idea what he plans to do next—”