The Braided World (40 page)

Nick almost laughed out loud. “Yes, the langva plants. They aren't real plants, they're time bombs, and we know everything. How dumb did you think we are?” Any moment now she would admit to it. Captain Darrow was there, in the bushes, hiding, waiting to hear. If she would just say it.

But she and her women looked like they could wait forever. They
had
waited forever, for the humans to come.

He rushed on: “The part about the other worlds, calling everybody to come here, that's good, Oleel. But did you think we wouldn't be suspicious about that? It's how you seed the universe, isn't it?” He charged forward. “Isn't it?”

The uldia yanked him back, forcing him to his knees. He fell like a sack of meat, no life left.

Her deep voice fell over him. “Other worlds?”

Still pretending, the old hag. He began talking, proving what he knew, laying it all out so that she couldn't doubt him. Once he started talking, he couldn't stop. It was his court of law, with him the prosecution and Darrow the judge. The sweet day of reckoning.

When he finished, he saw that she was moved. Finally. Her face struggled to conceal it, but she was afraid.

“First the humans come among us,” she murmured. “Then—other beings. How many creatures can the Olagong bear, how many mouths can the river lands feed?” She turned to her attendants. ‘And perhaps they are among us already, in the fields, ready to spring from their hiding places among the crops.”

If the woman would just stop pretending. He didn't like her immovable face, her cold eyes. He was starting to shake.

Nick thrashed at the uldia, trying to rise. But it was no use.
No use
—that was the refrain he'd been running from this whole mission. He was of no use.

His throat was so dry it was almost glued shut. “Just for once, tell the truth, goddamn you.”

Oleel pointed at him. “Do not talk so much.” She looked at the varium, its flat waters catching a wrinkled image of the sun. Then she crouched down, level with him. She gazed at him, murmuring, “You are mistaken, Venning. I knew nothing of this. Until now.”

Then she rose, smoothing her robe. Turning to her attendants, she said, “Strangle him. Throw his body into the Sodesh.” As the uldia hauled him to his feet, she said, “You would have been sent back to the palace, because you are not worth the trouble of killing, except that you have ruined a varium.”

He sneered. “I didn't swim, don't worry. Think I'd give you my seed?”

A small shudder overcame her. “But your body oils have polluted the birth pool.” She pointed to his feet. “Wet.”

Nick looked down at his feet, and saw his fatigues, soaked up to the ankles.

As Oleel disappeared down the path, the uldia pulled him in the opposite direction. He kept looking back for Captain Darrow, but the old man wasn't there. Fighting off a sickening fear, Nick considered the possibility that Captain Darrow was dead again.

At dusk, Anton stood with Bailey and Zhen on the little walkway outside their quarters where they could view the flotilla. A short while ago, Shim had come to beg him to join the king in the river room to observe the funeral barge. He had asked to be excused. Whether he blamed the king or not, he couldn't sort out right now—nor whether he blamed himself. But he wanted to be alone when he said good-bye.

The barge was just now coming into view around the bend in the Puldar. If Vidori had hoped for a great show on the river, Anton mused, he must be disappointed. Maypong was not mourned by thousands, but by hundreds. The skiffs of Maypong's kin followed the barge: brothers, aunts, uncles, along with grandparents and friends. Maypong's mother was deceased, but Shim had said Maypong's father would be among those paying their respects. But not Gilar, of course.

Bailey took his arm as they stood waiting. Nick had fled, leaving bloody ropes behind. Vidori had promised that his guard would seize him if they sighted him. Anton had almost said,
Look in the stone pavilion …
but of course, the king's guard weren't welcome there.

On the funeral raft, Maypong's bier was draped with a length of gold brocade. It fluttered in the occasional breeze like a butterfly with wet wings, unable to rise.

Anton still wasn't sure if Vidori would allow the barge to pause, would allow him to mount the platform and pay his last respects. Shim had said no, it couldn't be done, that Maypong belonged to the river and the river never stops.

But then, the barge did stop. It was some hundred meters away, out in the center of the Puldar.

Bailey said, “I'll come with you, my dear.”

Anton shook his head. “No, if you don't mind, Bailey.” She accepted this, holding the skiff steady for him as he moved down into it.

He paddled into the river, into a suspended day The Dassa stood on every level of the palace, on every walkway, bridge, veranda, and arcade, and not one of them moved.

Approaching the barge, he was assisted from the skiff by Maypong's kin. He thought he saw Maypong's likeness in the Dassa who handed him up. But there was no one like her.

They wouldn't remove the drape. He wanted to see her face, but that was not to be. He knelt by her bier, one hand on the cloth on the side of the woven crib that held her.
For
love, then, Maypongì To distinguish me from other lovers? Or for my people and my mission, because of me?
He pressed his forehead against the bier. No answers.
I love you, Maypong. All that you were. All…

At the king's stairs, Bailey saw that the judipon were distributing Maypong's goods. She'd come down to pay her respects to the king, but the sight of Maypong's things being handed out to greedy hands in skiffs was more than she could bear. With Zhen already back at work, and Anton gone walking in the gardens, Bailey went looking for a skiff. The river would restore her spirits.

Finding a skiff, she paddled into the river. The sun was making a production of the day's end, staining the western sky a haunting rosy-yellow color. She found herself paddling in the direction she'd taken so many times: Samwan's compound. Since she was going to stay on this alien world, it was good to have friends. New friends. As for old friends—well, saying good-bye to them would be hard indeed.

With the night coming on, lamps outlined Samwan's pier. This time, she had to scramble from the skiff by herself, not easy given her long tunic. Voices came to her from the center of the compound, where the household was gathered for a meal. But the river itself was very quiet, with just a few boats upon it.

In the compound, children scampered, their hoda nursemaids playing with them amid the laughter of the household women. This was a world, she thought, of simple joy and great pathos. Not unlike Earth. She hoped Samwan would let her join their meal.

Anton was hurrying down the corridor, garnering looks from viven who thought it improper to rush.

He hoped the king would still be in the river room. That
would make it easier to intercept him, as he should have done hours ago. He should have told Vidori everything the moment he discovered Nick's escape, but there was Zhen reciting the ancient codas, and then Maypong … And now Nick had slipped away, to join Oleel. Where else could he go? That meant Oleel would hear about the langva.

Anton didn't know which part of the Quadi story Oleel would exploit. But if the woman despised humans, what would she make of yet stranger beings? Beings who were perhaps even now on their way …

He hurried into the river room, full of Dassa and hoda and uldia. On the other side of the great hall Vidori was just leaving, surrounded by nobles and chancellors.

Several viven approached Anton. One of them was Nidhe, saying that they shared a sorrow for Maypong, that it was very sorrowful news …

Yes, yes, thank you
, Anton had replied, wondering what they thought of him and Maypong, or what they knew. But he merely excused himself, pushing past them. Meanwhile Vidori disappeared down the hall toward his quarters.

Seeing Shim, Anton called out, and then she was turning to him in consternation, looking like she couldn't handle more problems. But there
was
a problem, one the king had to hear.

“Shim-rah, thank you. I must see the king right away.”

Searching Anton's face, she said, “What has happened?”

“It's Lieutenant Venning. He has damning information, and is delivering it to the Second Dassa. Hurry, Shim-rah.” He took her by the elbow, pressing through the crowd. Up ahead, Romang had seen them coming, and alerted Vidori, who turned, frowning. As they marched forward, Shim said, “It is very bad respect to interrupt the king now, Anton. He cannot have an audience at such a time.”

“It will be very bad respect for him to be deprived of information that Oleel has.”

Vidori watched as Anton pushed forward.

“You have now changed your mind again, Anton,” he said. “Whether you will be with us or not with us.”

“Rahi, I bear news.” He looked at the gathered nobles, at the war chief, at Shim and the king's brothers and all the hangers-on that Anton had come to recognize over the weeks. But he needed privacy with the king.

The king lowered his voice as much as possible. “News that cannot wait on a day when my chancellor has died?”

“No, Vidori-rah, it can't wait.” It shouldn't have waited this long. “It's Venning,” Anton said.

“We know that he has escaped confinement.”

“Yes, rahi.” He kept the king's gaze. “But it's worse than that.”

Vidori looked at Shim, exchanging God knew what message with his eyes.

Shim collapsed. She sprawled on the floor, creating a commotion.

Romang hurried to her side, kneeling, as viven gathered around, sounding alarmed. Someone called for an uldia. One hurried forward, but Vidori said, “No, it is nothing but grief. Bring her to my chamber.” As guards came forward to carry her, Romang ushered the viven back to the hall, and Anton joined the king in a rush toward the royal apartments.

Shim was managing a very convincing moan, and holding her stomach.

“I would not want to lose two chancellors in one day” Vidori said.

As the group approached the king's suite, Anton gathered the threads of his story—the story that Oleel had no doubt heard already from Nick, in the final and telling blow from his ex-friend, the former officer of the
Restoration.
Of course, Nick might have simply fled for his life, with no intention of telling all he knew. But Anton was assuming the worst. When lately had Nick Venning failed to deliver the worst?

As the screens slid shut, the only people in the king's
suite were Vidori, Anton, and Shim, who sat up now and smoothed her tunic.

The king turned a dark gaze on Anton. “Now it is your turn to give terrible news, I fear.” At that moment he looked like a man well used to receiving it.

Anton began giving it.

Near a hut, Bailey noticed one of those dreadful miniature scenes. She tried to ignore it, but she was always drawn to the little wallishen. And sometimes, if they dealt with her people, she was inspired to change the figures inside them, just to answer back.

And yes, this particular scene was about her people, and not very nice. She looked for the figure with the big hat. There it was, the head no longer attached.

Suddenly Bailey noticed a very young hoda standing nearby.

Bailey said, “What do the wallishen accomplish? Why do the Dassa produce these?” It had never occurred to her to ask what they were
for.
She'd always assumed they were art.

The hoda signed, The superstitious create them to influence the future. <

Ah. Well, that settled the matter of
art
, then.

Bailey crouched down to pick up the head with the hat. She thought she'd take the head and the body and just remove them from the little drama.

“Oh, but Bailey, do not touch the wallishen.”

She turned. Samwan stood there with three of her sisters. One of them motioned for the hoda to leave, and the slave retreated.

Bailey rose. “Samwan-rah, thank you. But I must say, this scene offends me.”

Samwan came closer. “But why, Bailey?”

She held the doll's head in front of Samwan. “Decapitated. Not respectful.”

“But Bailey, it is not
meant
to be respectful.”

A hot pause ensued. Bailey thought she might just have been terribly insulted by Samwan. “Samwan-rah, do you condone a wish to see me harmed?”

Samwan's face grew still, and her usual good nature drained along with the last of the daylight. “Did you care that Samwan was harmed?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh yes, in the matter of singing in the forest.”

Bailey thought back to that day. How had Samwan been harmed?

One of Samwan's sisters ventured, “The king issued a reprimand, and the judipon cut our ration. It was hard on us. Did you help us on that day?”

“What could I do?” Bailey was looking among the women for some sign of relenting, but they only grew more stony.

Samwan said, “You, who are the particular friend of the king, can ask such a question? Did you ever offer to intercede? Or ask if I fared well? No, Bailey, you did not. We wondered, then, if we were truly friends. And then the king declined to send us an engineer for my new river engine, and now we are the poorer for it. All because the king deemed that I am not a proper custodian of my lands.” She interrupted as Bailey started to speak. ‘And then when you sang, the hoda began to see themselves as no longer vulgar. And many hoda have fled to the Voi, and in the fighting on the borders, two of my children have died.”

She looked at the doll's head in Bailey's hand as though she had just separated it from its shoulders and was admiring her work.

“I see,” Bailey managed to say. There was no point in discussing this; they had made up their minds. She slipped the doll parts into a pocket. “It is well to know who your friends are. But I see that I have been mistaken.”

Samwan said, “We have had pleasure in seeing you, though, Bailey. All with weak pri are indulged in my compound, whether children or the very old.”

“Weak pri?”

“Oh yes, Bailey. The very old are indulged in the Olagong. Like children. They can do no harm.” Pointedly she added: “Nor are they much effective.”