We brought with us a soothing paste from the mountain plants Tyannis had brought back with him. Our healers had found them useful and had cultivated them for the past three years, but we had nowhere near enough to cover this great a demand. They would have to endure constant, intense discomfort. We also brought cloth pads to tie over the rashes, warning the pregnant Bria against soothing themselves in their sleep.
For the sake of their future younglings, they wanted to believe. Their desperate hope almost undid Briarris. But they would not promise to come to Festival Hall. Those who should have their first mating and those who were not yet joined also listened, but it was clear they did not intend to mate.
Yur’i began visiting the unjoined Bria with us. “We were never meant to create monsters and unleash them on Wind,” he told them. “Perhaps this is what the Creator meant, telling us to civilize Wind. Perhaps He really meant, civilize ourselves.”
They listened to him but still promised nothing. We did not have time to stay till we convinced them; there were too many houses to visit and stillseason was nearly upon us.
Ghen who were living with Bria returned to the Ghen compound on my orders. I was determined to allow no forced matings except in the case of third-year mating Bria, to prevent them from being killed by the Broghen already inside them. The third-year forcings bothered me but I had too much else to worry about, such as the resistance I saw growing among the Ghen, not only to letting their unborn infants die for lack of second-year mating, but even to the idea of taking preventative measures against creating Broghen. Mick’al was at the root of the problem. If he had spoken in favor of eradicating the Broghen, no Ghen would have dared to oppose us both, Chair Ghen and their spiritual advisor.
He didn’t quite go as far as to speak in favor of Broghen; they were our fiercest adversary on Wind and we killed any who returned to us. I believed that was the issue, though he never said so. They tested our mettle, and in so doing, kept us strong.
Mick’al wasn’t about to advocate violence against the Bria, either. He was as unhappy about what had happened to Kirassis as any of us. But his silence regarding the concerns of those who had done it spoke loudly. He should have joined me in condemning their position. The fact that he didn’t worried me more than anything else that was happening in our city.
I went to talk to him. “I need your support,” I told him, “to prevent our city from being torn apart.”
“I have not opposed you. You are Chair Ghen.”
“I need more than that. I need you to support the eradication of the Broghen.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You must: for the sake of all Ghen.”
I had never openly argued with him before, and I think we were both surprised when I used the command only Chair Ghen could give. I knew him to be sincere in his spiritual leadership, if sometimes too rigid, and he knew me to be a pious and respectful Ghen. But neither of us had convinced the other.
***
Stillseason descended upon the city. Festival Hall, with its fans and streamers, stood empty.
I called a meeting of Ghen on the field behind the Ghen compound. I explained what the Bria hoped to accomplish by resisting the urge to sooth their belly rashes with breast fluid, and encouraged the Ghen to be patient. This wasn’t news, of course. I was merely getting everything out in the open, and frankly, trying to buy some time.
“What use is a warrior without a worthy opponent?” someone cried out. As though that had released their tongues, others called their agreement. A large young Ghen pushed his way through the crowd until he stood beside me. I recognized him as Mick’al’s apprentice. Why hadn’t I thought to charge him with my injunction when I had done so to Mick’al?
He bowed respectfully, then turned to face the mass of Ghen. “Birthing Broghen teaches us humility,” he said. “Holding them back at birth makes our younglings fearless. Releasing them safely teaches us compassion. Watching for their return keeps us vigilant, and killing them if they do teaches us duty.”
Many Ghen stamped their approval as he returned to his place on the field. Saft’ir hurried forward.
“Ghen boast about the ferocity of their Broghen offspring,” Saft’ir cried out, “I don’t call that humility. My womb-sibling, Yur’i, and others like him, are shamed all their lives for something that isn’t their fault. Being sensitive to the Bria’s fears would show whether or not we had learned compassion, and doing what’s best for all of Wind is our duty!”
Only a scattering of stamping followed his words. Mant’er approached the head of the field next. He walked forward slowly. When he had turned to face the crowd he asked, in a low but carrying voice, “Are you proud of your Broghen?”
Something in the tone of his voice, a heaviness, a weariness, hushed them.
“I was proud when my youngling subdued the Broghen that shared his womb,” he said. “I was proud of the fierceness of the Broghen my mating produced. And when we freed them in the south, I was proud to think my offspring, however deformed, would be the master of that land.
“I am not proud now. The Broghen of the mountain Ghen destroyed my youngling, and many other fine youths. I find myself wondering if the Broghen I created has found its way to another settlement of Ghen and Bria, to prey upon their young.”
There was a deep silence, until defiantly, a young voice near the back called out, “We are warriors! Without the challenge of Broghen, we would grow weak.”
“Were we a hunting party of weaklings and fools?” Mant’er roared. “No!” He paused until he had subdued the rattling of his spine ridge. “Many fine hunters and youths died on that trip. Their loss does not strengthen us, it weakens us.”
“We have courrant’hs and liapt’hs to battle,” I said, as Mant’er moved back to his place on the field. “We don’t need to create more predators.”
Koon’an came forward then. “We are warriors,” he agreed.
No one could deny that he was one of our best fighters, if not the best among us. I could feel the crowd’s interest in what he had to say.
“But we are also world-builders. Our ancestors built this city. What have we built lately?” He looked around, giving them time to think about his question.
“Now is the time for another kind of warrior. Now is the time to fight for civilization. I took the best warriors we have into the mountains. Who will go into the forests and mountains, over the plains and perhaps even over the oceans, to forge links with other settlements of Ghen and Bria? Who will help me build a civilization to encompass every corner of Wind?
“Unless you would prefer to hide within these walls from monsters you have chosen to create!”
There was a long silence after he sat down. Then the drumming of feet began. Slowly it spread across the field, gathering momentum. He had appealed to their pride, their courage, to all the best within them, and had given them a purpose to capture their very breath.
As soon as the stamping died down enough for me to be heard, I intended to call an end to the meeting. There was still much to do. Resolving the issues that faced us would be long and difficult work. But I felt we were on the way. Yes, I believed we could do it, if the Bria would meet us half-way.
Then I saw Mick’al making his way to the front.
If I had seen him first, I would have adjourned the meeting at once. But by the time I noticed him his intent to speak was obvious, and Ghen were quickly quieting to hear what he had to say. If I refused to let him speak, the conflict between us would be obvious and Ghen would be forced to choose between their spiritual leader and Chair Ghen.
If I let him speak, he might destroy everything I had gained at this meeting. I opened my mouth, raising my arm in a motion of adjournment...
Mick’al caught my eye. Slowly my arm lowered. Mick’al was also my spiritual advisor; I had to hear him out.
“I have always believed there was a reason why we have Broghen,” he said, “but I have sometimes wondered what it was. Until today, how
ever, I have never wondered why we have that wall. It was to keep the Broghen out. To protect our younglings, and the Bria who depend on us. To create an area of safety within which we may turn our minds to higher thoughts.
“Today, Mant’er has reminded us how shallow that sense of safety is, and Koon’an has reminded us how little we know of Wind.
“What have we done?” He paused, staring at the attentive crowd. He had them still, spellbound, when he opened his mouth and roared: “We have given Wind to the Broghen, and built ourselves a little cage to live in!”
There was utter silence. I let my breath out softly. It left me like a prayer. Mick’al had caught Koon’an’s fire and was building a vision to lead us all forward. I was no visionary, but I could see that this was what we needed.
“The Bria built walls of silence and we felt superior, because we did not need to hide from the truth.” Mick’al stared from face to face, daring any to disagree.
“What else have we been doing behind these walls, but hiding?” he shouted. The scales down his back rattled in the absolute silence that greeted his accusation.
“There will be walls to guard for a long time yet, from the white Broghen, from our own Broghen offspring.
“But we were not created to guard the walls of a single city.” His voice thundered over the field. “We are the guardians of Wind!” Ghen feet began to stamp. More and more joined in, and over the stamping, which shook the very ground we stood on, and the rattle of Ghen scales and the pounding of Ghen hearts, over it all Mick’al’s voice roared, “We are its guardians and the Bria are its heart! Let there be no more walls between us!”
The ground shook and the air reverberated with cheers and stamping. When the noise began to die down, I stepped forward to adjourn, but once more I was interrupted.
“Igt’ur! Igt’ur!”
I heard the high-pitched Bria voice before I saw him struggling toward me. The Ghen shifted, bumping against one another to let him through. Briarris ran to me and fell against my chest, shaking. I took his shoulders to raise him so I could sign to tell him it was all right, the Ghen would not use force against the Bria. But when I lifted him, I saw that he was laughing!
“Ocallis brought them,” he signed, using Yur’i’s signs instead of our own, so many of the Ghen could understand. “Ocallis walked out into the streets shouting, ‘Where is the heart of Wind? Where is the brave heart of Wind? Bria, be brave!’ Then Tyannis came out of his house and shouted, ‘Bria are brave!’ and then Tibellis joined them.
“They walked through the streets calling ‘Bria, be brave!’ and the doors of the houses opened and the Bria came out shouting ‘Bria are brave!’ They took his hand, and others took their hands and they walked all together through our city shouting ‘Bria are brave!’”
In stillseason? I could hardly believe it. “Where have they gone?” I asked.
He laughed at my stupidity. “To Festival Hall!”
He blew into my face for all to see and I blew into his, and the hot, still air filled with the cries of Ghen as they repeated, “To Festival Hall! The Bria have gone to Festival Hall!” Then there was a noisy scramble as those who were joined and those who wished to join rushed away to meet them.
And even though it was stillseason and I do not believe in signs or miracles, I felt the mighty presence of the Wind blowing over us all.
THE OCCASIONAL DIAMOND THIEF
J. A. McLachlan
Author’s Note
This book is a work of fiction. The strain of coronavirus imagined in this book is more deadly than the one we face in 2020, and the imaginary planet on which it occurs is less capable of meeting the threat. Some scenes in this book may be disturbing to some readers. This book was written in 2014, shortly after the SARS epidemic but years before the Covid-19 pandemic, and no comparison is intended.
Names, places, characters, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or to events, cultures or locales is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter One
“She speaks Malemese?”
I stop walking mid-step in the hallway. Dr. Eldrich’s voice carries through the closed door of my parents’ room, even though he’s speaking quietly. They have to be talking about me—I’m the only one who can speak Malemese, besides my father.
“She has an ear for languages, like Itohan.” My mother, Owegbé’s, voice is low but clear. They must be standing just on the other side of the door, where they can speak privately without disturbing my father. If I hadn’t been walking past right at that moment, I’d never have heard them. I creep closer to the door to hear better.
“He taught her?” Surprise makes Dr. Eldrich’s voice rise.
“She taught herself four years ago from language discs at the library. I suppose she thought it would please him. Itohan was ill for months after hearing Malemese spoken again, by his own daughter.”
“I remember.” Dr. Eldrich’s voice is low again, mimicking Owegbé’s hushed response. “You didn’t tell me what had set him off.”
There’s a moment’s silence. I feel a rush of heat to my face, anticipating what Owegbé will tell him. But all she says is, “There was no need. I made sure it wouldn’t happen again.”
Right. Of course she wouldn’t tell him the whole story. But I remember that day, and how she “made sure.”
My father was sitting alone in his den, scrolling through the bills and invoices on his business comp, not really doing anything; Etin handled most of the financial details of their in-dependent trading business. When I walked in, his eyes were half-closed in the vague, listless look he always had. I glanced around to see if there was anything new. The room was a jumble of things to look at: shelves with artwork and knick-knacks from his travels; vivid alien landscapes on the walls; holos of strange-looking people he had met as well as of family, crowding his desk. He began to smile when he saw me—and then I made the stupid announcement I’d practiced, in Malemese, “Father, I have learned to speak like y...you...”
I stuttered to a stop as he leaped up, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. A garbled cry, half-shout, half-whimper, came from deep in his throat. Owegbé, Etin, Oghogho, all came running to the door of the study where I stood terrified before my father.
Why hadn’t I noticed he only spoke Malemese when he was ill with one of his fevers? but I was only eleven then, a kid.
Father’s arms never left his sides. I stood there, frozen with fear, watching his fists clenching and opening as the force of his emotion battled the strength of his willpower. Owegbé realized what I’d done by my father’s shouted accusations; she ran in and slapped me so hard I fell to the floor.
She would have hit me again except that Etin rushed in, yanked me to my feet and pushed me out of the room. I ran down the hall and outside, and just kept running. I don’t even know where I went, I was
crying so hard. When I finally crept back home at dinnertime, father was ill in bed. I never called Owegbé “Mother” again.
I shake off the memory and glance down the hallway. Owegbé could wave open the door at any moment and find me here, listening. The room I share with my sister Oghogho is just steps behind me, across from our brother Etin’s room. I should move back so if Owegbé opens the door it would look like I’m just leaving my room. I start to step back, but then Dr. Eldrich speaks again: “His lungs are failing.”
Instead, I move closer to the door.
“They no longer send sufficient oxygen to his brain. We could give him a new lung, but his heart is also weak...”
“He doesn’t want to live.”
“I’m sorry.” Dr. Eldrich’s voice trails off for a moment. I lean right in against the door. “I’ll have a respirator couriered over. Perhaps if we can build up his strength a little...”
“No. Let him find peace at last,” I hear Owegbé say.
I almost fall into the door. She can’t mean what I think she means, she can’t just give up on him—The door swishes open. Owegbé stares at me. After a startled moment, her face turns dark and tight, her eyes so furious I start to tremble and can’t speak, though I want to yell at her, tell her she can’t, she can’t just—
“It may prove useful now, if Akhié can still understand Malemese,” Dr. Eldrich is saying, still looking at my father. He hasn’t even noticed us. “But don’t let her speak it. I don’t know what the effect might be if he heard it spoken around him.” He turns and sees me standing outside the open door, frozen in my mother’s glare. He doesn’t say anything. He just comes over beside her. I’m totally caught eavesdropping, but I’m too relieved to be embarrassed, because she can’t kill me with him standing there.
Walls of Wind and the Occasional Diamond Thief Boxed Set Page 32
