Venus of Shadows (50 page)

"My grandfather told me a little about it," Dyami said. "He says it looks different, depending on where you are. In some places, you've got all these tall buildings and hills, so you can see only a little bit of the sky, but in others —" He slipped one arm under his head. "He met my grandmother on the North American Plains. He said that there the sky was sometimes like this huge kettle over the Earth."

"That makes it sound like a dome," Teo muttered.

"A lot bigger than a dome, and blue, with all kinds of different clouds. You know what it's like when you're in the middle of this dome and you can't see the edge? It's sort of like that, he says, except that you think you'll never get to the end of it. And it changes — sometimes the clouds seem close to the ground and sometimes there're hardly any clouds at all. And the wind — he says sometimes it would howl for days."

"Sounds scary."

"I guess it is, if you're not used to it."

"It's always the same here," Teo said, "except for the quakes. I wonder when the next one's going to hit."

A quake had been predicted days ago. "They can't always pinpoint it — you know that." Dyami thought of the little he had already learned. Earth's seismologists knew much more about the home world's fault lines and the patterns quakes followed there; here, prediction was somewhat more uncertain, since the planet's tectonic plates had only recently begun to shift. The landmass of Ishtar Terra was on one such plate. The Maxwell Mountains were far enough away from fault lines to make it safe to build settlements here, but they often trembled to the vibrations of powerful distant quakes. Dyami was used to the tremors, which usually did no more than shake the ground a little.

"I heard a good one yesterday," Teo said. "My father told it to my uncle. Why do women in Ishtar wear shrouds during the rite?"

"I don't know."

"Because they want to make sure the men will go through with their offering." Teo chuckled. Dyami smiled tentatively, not sure he understood the joke, although he did know something about what happened during the rite. Maybe Teo didn't really get it either, but he was nine, a year older than Dyami, and seemed to think that extra year made him more knowledgeable.

"I heard another one, too," Teo continued. "Why do men on patrol always carry wands?"

"The women do, too."

"Come on, Dyami — it's a joke. Why do the men carry wands?"

"I don't know."

"Because if the Spirit fails them during the rite, they've got something they can use."

Dyami did not bother to laugh at this one. He sat up and peered toward the Habber house; the door opened as a man stepped outside. He sighed.

"Maybe you don't think they're funny," Teo said, "with your sister and all."

"Come on — you know what I think about that."

"My father says it'd almost be worth joining if he could get close to her, but he didn't say it in front of my mother. How long are you going to wait for Bartai?"

"Not much longer."

"We could make the rounds."

"You know we haven't got time for that," Dyami replied. Making the rounds was a game some of his friends played. They would go to the tunnel that led to the main dome, race through it, catch a passenger cart there, ride it to the tunnel that joined the main dome to the southeast dome, and keep going in the same manner until they were through the southwest dome and back at the point in the west dome where they had started. The object of the game was to get through all of Oberg's four domes in the shortest amount of time, which required running along the main roads if a cart didn't show up immediately.

Teo folded his arms across his chest, apparently prepared to wait. The slender black-haired boy was like Dyami, curious about things others said they shouldn't be curious about. He sometimes joined Dyami in his room for talks with Bartai over the screen, but not because he was particularly interested in engineering design; he was curious about Habbers.

Teo was unlike him in being more reckless. Dyami thought of their latest adventure, when Teo had dared him into sneaking out of his house after dark. Dyami had waited until the household was asleep before leaving by the side exit in his wing; he still remembered the sharp, almost pleasurable stab of fear he felt when meeting his friend outside.

The object of this venture was to cross the dome and get to the digger and crawler bay without being seen by the patrol. They got only as far as the lake before seeing two sashed volunteers talking to a man. The boys had hunkered down behind a shrub.

Dyami recognized the man then. He was Lucas Ghnassia, one of his neighbors, and even in the dim light, he could see how frightened Lucas was. What could the patrol want with him? Lucas Ghnassia was so respectable that he was often the topic of jokes; he was a chemist who spent most of his spare time doing chores around the house he shared with his sister's family. Dyami had never known him to smile or waste time visiting with his neighbors. Some of his schoolmates often loitered around Lucas's greenhouse, knowing that he would soon come out and, in his odd, rasping voice, lecture them about idling. His bondmate, Sirisa Wallis, was a pale, pretty woman as reclusive as he was; even Grazie had never been able to lure Sirisa into a session of gossip.

"We know where you've been," the female volunteer said.

Lucas drew himself up; his hands trembled as he looped them around his red and black sash. "I was visiting a friend," His voice was even more raspy than usual.

"And we know just what kind of friend. Did you think we wouldn't find out? We know what goes on — where you meet, what you do."

"You must be mistaken," Lucas replied. "Unless you have a reason to detain me, I must be on my way home."

"We have to look out for you," the male volunteer said. "You're our brother in Ishtar now. Don't you want to move closer to the Spirit? What you do affronts Her. Did you think that donning the sash and practicing a deception would protect you from the consequences of your offense?"

Dyami frowned. The patrol was supposed to keep order, not pry into someone's personal business. If Lucas posed no threat to persons or property and was on his way home, why were they bothering with him?

"I've done nothing that concerns the patrol," Lucas said; apparently the same thought had occurred to him.

"We have to love you," the woman said, "but you're making it very difficult to do so. Very well — we'll try to forgive you this time. Even those close to the truth can occasionally fall into error. But the patrol will be looking out for you, and if you persist in your affronts, it may be time for you to confess them at a meeting. The fellowship will still love you if you're truly repentant, but others may not be so kind — many here would despise you for what you do."

Lucas covered his eyes. "Go home," the male volunteer said, "and open your soul to the Spirit. Reflect on your errors and gather the strength to resist them."

Lucas stumbled away toward the path that led to his house. Dyami held his breath as the man passed; he heard a choked sound and wondered if Lucas was weeping. The man and the woman watched him in silence, then walked away along the shore of the lake toward Andrew Dinel's house.

"Shit," Teo whispered when the two were out of sight. "Shit." Dyami saw that his friend was trembling. "I wish I was anywhere except here."

Dyami touched his arm. "Lucas could complain to the Council," he said. "Yakov Serba would be on his side — the patrol isn't supposed to —"

"Don't be stupid, Dyami. Even if he did, those two would just get a reprimand, and then he'd be in even more trouble with them." Teo wiped at his face. "We'd better go home."

"Don't you want to try for —"

"Not now."

Dyami glanced at his friend. Teo was still staring up at the dome, as if hoping that the clouds he was probably imagining might suddenly appear. It was strange that Teo had so rapidly abandoned their adventure the other night, after daring Dyami into being his accomplice. He had seemed almost as frightened of the patrol as Lucas.

Dyami pondered the incident. Lately, he had begun to feel that unseen threats lay all around him and that his only protection was in being guarded with others; seeing Lucas with the patrol had given some substance to his vague fears. He had always been reserved, sensing dimly that he had to be. Sef sometimes kidded him about his solemnity, but somehow Dyami knew that he could never be as open and demonstrative as his father was. Only with Teo did he feel he could let down his guard, in spite of his friend's occasional recklessness. Teo was like him in often wanting to be alone, in being more distant from their schoolmates, in feeling that their class discussions were often a waste of time when they could learn just as much from their screens. "They want us to learn how to get along," Teo had said once, in a tone that implied this was an impossible goal. "That's all those discussions are for."

"That uncle of yours," Teo said then, "the one who's a Habber — maybe he was right."

Dyami smiled a little. Teo liked to say startling things, at least to him; he was more careful around other people. "You wouldn't really do that, would you — try to get to a Hab?"

"I don't know. Maybe I would if I could, but I won't have the chance."

"Well, I wouldn't," Dyami said. "If I could go there for a while and come back, maybe, but — my mother never forgot what her brother did. I think that's the real reason she doesn't want much to do with Habbers."

He thought of Bartai. With her black hair and almond-shaped eyes, she looked a little like his mother; her straightforward manner even reminded him of Risa. Maybe that was why he liked her, although Risa wouldn't be happy to have herself compared to a Habber.

"I don't think we're going to see Bartai," Dyami said, "and if I don't pick up in my room before Risa gets home, she’ll —"

"Yeah, I know." Teo sat up. His dark eyes seemed sad as he gazed at Dyami, and then his face brightened. He jumped to his feet. "I'll race you to my house."

*  *  *

Dyami kept up a swift pace with his long legs, but the smaller, slighter Teo won the race. He waved a farewell to his friend before heading home. Perhaps Bartai had left a message on the screen; he could not believe that she would leave without saying good-bye to him.

He could clean his room and still have time with his screen before dinner. On his own, in addition to his schoolwork, he had been learning more about the history of the Project. These lessons were ones Theron would have come to eventually, but Dyami saw no reason not to master them now. Dawud Hasseen, the engineer who had designed the Parasol, was one of his heroes, Dyami had viewed scenes of the Parasol's construction many times, marveling at the calculations and effort that had gone into building it.

A teaching image named Simon presented these lessons, commented on the visual images, and answered Dyami's questions. Dyami knew that the fair-haired Simon was only an image presented by a cybermind, modeled on a real man who would be leading his life elsewhere, and yet he sometimes felt that the image was his friend. Often, he imagined that he could feel Simon's hand on his shoulder whenever the image praised him for a correct answer, and wondered why he felt more drawn to an image than to his own teacher. Sometimes he daydreamed and saw himself leaving his house to find the real Simon waiting outside. He would imagine Simon's arm around him and the man's deep voice promising to be his friend, but he had never mentioned those daydreams even to Teo; they were another secret he sensed he had to keep.

As he neared his house, he saw that Eleta was kicking a stone along the path; one of the household's adults must have brought her home from the nursery. He sighed, hoping no one had looked into his messy room. Eleta spun around and ran toward the trees; Chimene was sitting there, watching the child.

Eleta nestled next to her older sister; Chimene smiled as Dyami approached, "Chen's inside," she said, "finishing that carving for me. He's asked me to stay for dinner, and he said you helped Kolya make the bread this time — I'm sure it's delicious."

He tilted his head. Over the past months, Chimene had gone out of her way to be pleasant, and yet he still felt uneasy during her visits. "You shouldn't come here," he blurted out.

She continued to smile. "What a thing to say."

"Risa doesn't like it."

"She hasn't said so to me."

"That's only because everybody else keeps saying she should be nicer to you, but she still doesn't like it."

"Well, I guess I understand that," Chimene said. "Mother's a proud woman — she doesn't like to admit she was wrong." Dyami disliked it when Chimene called Risa Mother. She drawled the formal term, and her voice was colder when she used it. "But she knows how much I care about all of you, and I think she feels a little warmer toward me now."

He studied her face. Everybody was always saying how beautiful his sister was, but her composed expression made him shiver.

Maybe, he thought, there was something wrong with him. He had only hazy memories of the last time Chimene had lived with them, before she had finished her studies on Island Two and gone to live in ibn-Qurrah; he could not recall much about the preceding years. But during her last stay, she had often helped him with his lessons, played games with him, and acted as an older sister should. He could not think of anything to hold against her, so why did she make him feel strange, as if she were someone he did not really know and around whom he had to be on guard? Maybe it was only that she had been away from this household so much, and he hadn't been able to feel as close to her.

"Mene," Eleta said; she had trouble pronouncing her sister's name. "You said we were going to play a game."

"And we shall. Why don't you go inside and find the one you want to play and bring it out here?"

Eleta stood up; Chimene gave her a hug, then gently propelled her toward the door. She turned back to Dyami. "You don't like having me visit, do you?" she asked. He did not answer. "You can be honest with me, Dyami — you don't like having me around. Believe me, I won't get upset if you admit it. You were so young during most of the time I was here, and I was away a lot, and we didn't have the chance to be as close as we might have been, but maybe when you know me better, we can be friends." Her words made him think she could read his thoughts. "I want you to feel that we will be friends."