The Braided World (5 page)

“Maybe we should pay a social call on the woman,” Nick said, keeping his voice low, referring to the Second Dassa, the person they called Oleel.

But Anton's goals at the moment were more narrow. The problem of Zhen, for instance. The problem of the confiscation of their weapons. “Vidori could interpret that as a threat,” he said.

“Maybe that's a message he needs to get, Captain.”

Anton knew Nick was itching to break free of the king's compound. They all were. But Vidori was asking for patience, to give the Dassa people time to get used to the idea of visitors. Especially visitors like them.

The king turned to them, motioning for them to join him inside. As Anton and Nick left the veranda, the servants closed the screens, finely woven, but sturdy. Outside, a light rain had resumed.

Anton noticed that the table had only two chairs drawn up. “I don't think you're invited, Nick,” Anton said.

“Aristocrat to aristocrat, then,” Nick said, grinning, making it hard to take offense. Anton remembered Nick saying he'd be here to help him, that day when Bailey named him captain. But from the first day he and his friend had seen things differently. They were all second-guessing him, and no one more than Anton himself, who'd never looked for the job.

Nick left, along with Romang and the nobles. On a small stand was the king's private telephone, self-consciously placed within reach. It might have been a work of art, with its porcelain housing cast in a delicate pattern, typical of the miniature style the Dassa so prized. The voice box clicked now and then as though clearing its throat to say something.

Vidori was gesturing at the table. “We will present a meal,” he said.

Facing the king, Anton wondered where to begin. It would be rude to come to the point.
Release Zhen. She'll stay with me, not in your prison.
They'd taken Zhen for her safety, Shim, the king's apologist, had said.
Strangling us with silk
, Anton thought again.

He waited for Vidori to lead off.

Like most Dassa men, Vidori wore his long hair clasped at the back of his head. It was slicked back so hard it shone. At his ears hung the crescent pendants, in black, the king's color, and at his waist, an intricately carved pistol, a reminder that this kingdom was at war. He was old enough to
have a mature daughter, the Princess Joon, but was still remarkably handsome, with deeply bronze skin, always closely shaven. The women were often striking, yet they were not quite … feminine. Their bodies were trim and flat, almost boyish. Except for the hoda, some of whom appeared heavy-breasted and -hipped. The fact of
female
slaves was one of a long and growing list of issues that disturbed the crew and laced Anton's path with political and moral hazards.

Vidori began, “I regret that your Bailey could not be found.” He spoke, as always, with a rich, though neutral voice.

“Bailey will join us next time, Vidori-rah. Along with Zhen, I hope.”

The king let that lie. “Here is a meal,” he said, gesturing to the table.

Indeed, food lay heaped on trays, with no utensils or plates. Anton took a chair as Vidori seated himself. There had been audiences with the king before, but never to share food. He wished there were not that additional array of protocol to navigate.

Vidori crossed his legs, sitting relaxed. “I have a report on your air barge, Anton. No one has tried approaching it. My guard keeps it secure.”

The king was making a special effort to say his name correctly. He had given up on
Zhen
, referring to her as
Sen.

“Thank you, rahi,” Anton said, using the honorific. ‘After the attack on Zhen and Bailey, I am concerned about…” He searched for the Dassa word for
sabotage
, but settled for
mischief.

Vidori waved this off. “The craft is secure.”

Secure, yes. In the name of security, Vidori was holding them virtual prisoners. For their own sakes, or for some hidden reason? The king's motives were not the only thing hidden to him. This world, Neshar. This region of the rivers, the Olagong, as they called it. Where, in all this forest and river land, was what they had come for? Bailey continued to
say it was the hoda; but the palace estimated their population at some twelve thousand individuals, too few to help the Earth reestablish a healthy population. Even—which was unthinkable, given the hoda role here—if they agreed to travel to Earth, and if enough ships could be provided for transport. No, the hoda were not the answer.

“The flooding continues,” Anton said, pursuing his concern over the shuttle.

“Not enough to touch the craft. Nor will the rivers rise so high.” The king looked in the direction of the flooded plaza. “When the Sodesh retreats, the Voi march. We have either flooding or battles. Which do you prefer, Anton?”

“I am more at home with battles, Vidori-rah.”

Vidori seemed pleased at this. “A man like myself. With enemies.” He gestured at the plate of food. “The guest eats first.”

“Ah.” Anton looked over the piles of garish fruit, choosing a piece of what he assumed was pineapple. Oddly, it
was
pineapple. On a planet where it should not be.

Through the wood floors a gush of water could be heard, evidence of the extensive plumbing system of the palace. The Dassa were fastidious about water. Half the energies of the palace seemed focused on repair and extensions of the ceramic pipe system, here in this society that had developed the river lands’ rich clay deposits, with the harder-to-mine metals of the world a rarity. The fact that even their six-barrel pistols were partially composed of ceramics showed they had fairly well-developed ceramic alloy technology.

“What enemy tried to attack my crew, Vidori-rah?”

The king took a neon slice of fruit from the platter, chewing thoughtfully. “Someone who fears what you are: a powerful, far-traveling race who bear their young. The idea is abhorrent.” He smiled. “I, however, am open-minded.” He sipped from a cup of wine, a fine blue wine of the palace reserve. “I have enemies, too. There are barbarians who covet the Olagong, our braided lands. Their lands are cold, their children few.”

To Vidori, it was self-evident that cold variums meant poor yields. A warm varium, the science team estimated, produced only one birth per thousand swims. Apparently the Voi envied that number.

The king went on, “The barbarians would have what we have. That is the nature of our war. Your arrival coincides with this circumstance.”

“Which circumstance, rahi?”

“Of the lowering of the Sodesh, and the advance of our enemies. Of course, there are many sizes of problems.”

“I hope our arrival is not such a problem,” Anton said.

“Some see that it is. I am not one of those.” He reached for a handful of berries. “But the captain must learn to respect
walk.”

Nick was right. Smashing that screen had impressed the Dassa. They looked at him as though he might go plowing through a wall at any moment.

“We have caused you some inconvenience,” Anton said. “Our arrival, and the attempt on Zhen's life …”

The king's pleasant expression fled, replaced with a neutral face.

Anton pushed on: “But I would welcome the opportunity to protect Zhen myself. If you would return her to my quarters and also my weapon and my crew's hand weapons.” There, he'd gotten it all in. He locked gazes with Vidori, rude or not.

“Sen …,” the king said. “Thankfully, she was not murdered.”

“We are grateful for the skill and bravery of your guards that night, Vidori-rah. However …”

“She is a hoda,” the king said through a mouthful of food.

“She is a member of my crew. A valued chancellor. She is not a slave.”

“She is born to bear.” Vidori shrugged. “A hoda.”

“My people bear children in our way We have great
respect for Zhen, and that she is born to bear.” It was necessary to make this point clear.

“Yes, but you are in the Olagong now, Captain.”

“We are not Dassa.”

“We did wonder what you are.” He had, at their last meeting, been especially confused by the human concept of disease—of the humans’ lack of
pri
, as Vidori had called it, which translated, Anton thought, to
life force.

Vidori was watching him closely. “Captain, I will tell you a story. There is a bird of legend, called the ashi, with feathers the color of this meal you see before you. Long ago, before we had fallen into disrespect, the feathers were highly prized, and woven into fine clothes. The ashi cared for the chicks, flightless for the first weeks of life. Some years, if the river receded early, and the lands returned prematurely, the predators could walk the land bridges and ravage the young ashi. They cared little for the promise of the plumage, but devoured the chicks, just like this platter of food. These predators were vile creatures with no sense of beauty or respect. So the ashi prayed for high rivers, and so did the people who wished to see the ashi in flight.” He paused. “Thus our expression, ‘May the rivers swell’ ”

Anton nodded. “The Voi are such vile creatures?”

“Problems come in all sizes. Some are Dassa.” His dark eyes met Anton's, holding his gaze, then broke contact, signaling for the servants to remove the platter.

When the table was empty, Vidori stood and went to a corner of the room where a series of reed boxes lined the floor. He opened one, removing another, smaller reed box. He brought it back and set it in the middle of the table.

“You have studied the Olagong, thankfully,” he said. “You know that we have three powers, and that among them are the Second Dassa and the Third Dassa—the uldia andthejudipon.”

Yes, Nick had pieced it together: The king presided over only one of the three realms. Each of the three powers claimed a river for its symbolic domain, and for its official
palace. These rivers, the Puldar, Amalang, and Nool, flowed into the Sodesh, considered the braided sum of all rivers.

The king went on, “Together, the Three uphold the Olagong and all the traditional ways. But when the river recedes, there is a time when—problems—may occur.”

If those problems were individual Dassa, they would likely be the uldia or the judipon. “Someone could take advantage of vulnerable times,” Anton replied. “While the palace is preoccupied with the outside threat.”

The king looked intently at him. “Thankfully, I have not said so.”

But he
had
said so, between the lines, implying also the need for Anton's
security.

The king was looking out the open veranda wall, where the rain had resumed its lush cascade. “Your chancellor Sen is in danger among us, among those Dassa less open-minded than I. But I will return her to you, since you wish it,” he said. He glanced sharply back at Anton. “You will be responsible if she suffers harm. See that she is circumspect about being seen in the pavilion, and never alone.”

“Thank you, Vidori-rah.” It was a small victory, and a gratifying one.

The king turned his attention to the reed box. Unfastening the closure ring, the king opened the lid, revealing a liner of vibrant silk. Nested inside was Anton's side arm.

“For use against the enemies you can see. I return this to you, and you may wear it.” His eyes flicked to Anton. “The rest I keep until such time as you choose to return to your great ship.”

Anton had just been given Zhen, his weapon, and an assurance of his freedom to leave. It was all unexpected, and yet not all that he needed. “Vidori-rah,” he pushed on, “I am not ungrateful. But as I have requested before, my people wish to view the Quadi site. The ruins.”

Vidori paused. “I have said, this is on uldia land. The uldia would not welcome you there.”

“It is necessary, rahi. For my mission.”

“Give me time, Anton. I have said, the river is receding.” At Anton's frown, he added: “Perhaps I am not clear, Captain. The ruins are underwater just now, in flood season. Did you know?”

Underwater. No, he hadn't known.

A swish of a wall opening. The two of them turned.

Standing in the opening was a woman of astonishing beauty. She was dressed in a vibrant blue silk jacket and a long skirt. The Princess Joon.

“Oh, you are busy, Father,” she said. She looked at Anton, smiling briefly. “Thank you, I will leave.”

Vidori smiled broadly for the first time since Anton had known him. “No, you must join us.” He gestured her into the room, with a sweep of his hand commanding her to come forward.

After a moment's hesitation, she approached, her gown rustling. She was tall, as tall as her father and Anton. She looked at the pistol, lying there. “If it is war you speak of, Father, I will have nothing to say. I will embarrass myself in front of the captain.”

“Thankfully, Joon, we are finished with the Voi for now.”

“Thankfully,” she repeated. She turned a bold gaze on Anton.

He tried to keep from staring at her. He bowed. “Princess Joon, my thanks.”

She nodded, then turned to her father. “He speaks so well, Vidori-rah!”

The king's retort was immediate: “He is the captain of a great ship, Joon. Do not patronize.”

Her face wavered. “I am sorry, Father.”

Anton started to assure her that no offense had been taken, but Joon was focused on her father.

Vidori softened. “No harm, no harm.” His hand came onto her shoulder. She stood before him, composing herself. She looked at her father, and the look seemed not quite what it should be. Nor her father's look.

Anton turned from them to the open veranda, to the
drowned plaza outside, where the river system would soon retreat, leaving it and the Dassa lands clear—and perhaps more dangerous. He wished he did not know what he did about relations between some Dassa daughters and some fathers. Between some Dassa mothers and sons.

The fruit dinner sat uneasily in his stomach, one thing warring with another.

He accepted the weapon box from the king's hands.

Joon turned to him. “You must visit at my pavilion, Captain.”

“I will, thank you, Lady.”

Anton took his leave. He wasn't sure what would happen next between father and daughter, or even if anything
would
, but he judged it an excellent time to leave. Gripping the box, he departed the king's suite of rooms, more or less satisfied. He had the gun; he had Zhen. And the king had implied that they might visit the Quadi ruins when the rivers returned to their banks. Anton took that as a promise.