The Second Moon

The Second Moon Page 1

by Bob Marx

The

  Second Moon

  By Bob Marx

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Version 6

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright 2011 Robert Marx

  Dedication

  To my wonderful family, especially my wife, Vicki. Far too many nights, she retired alone, while I struggled to form coherent sentences.

  Table of Contents

  Map of the Syton Gorge

  The Human Prohibitions

  Prologue

  Chapters

  Map of the Syton Gorge

  The Human Prohibitions

  Negotiated by the Sytonian Council and Dai Avram Elstrada.

  Ratified by the Human Caucus 8 A.H. 16th of the Fifth Septet

  1. No harm or interference.

  Humans may not cause harm to or interfere with the native population of Syton.

  2. No advanced technologies.

  Humans may never possess, use, store, manufacture or cause to be utilized any device or process which is determined to embody scientific principles not currently developed or in use by the native population. Nor may such scientific principles be taught or passed on.

  3. No property.

  Humans may use what is given, found, or provided but ownership of all things on Syton resides with the natives and any and all goods must be returned upon request.

  4. No weapons.

  Humans may not carry, possess, manufacture, or store any object that could be construed as a possible weapon.

  5. No travel in the Kull or Soto Harbor.

  6. No unsanctioned or undue fraternization with native populations.

  7. No use of boats, ships, or other deepwater conveyances beyond Lake Chook, except for Bistoun Ferry.

  8. No hunting or destruction of natural resources.

  Prologue

  His son’s mind was slipping away. He had seen the signs in other towan countless times before—the blank stare, the discolored shoulder patches, the loose pleats of the boy’s food sacks beneath a slack jaw, his long arms hanging limp in the frigid lake. His son would soon die. Ninety-seven years, it was a long life for an average towan, an honorable life, so perhaps he was wrong, even cruel to have forced the empty husk of his son’s body to endure this desperate journey. Perhaps he should let there be an end.

  But the Black Rocks were close now. There was hope. They had both been lucky to avoid serious accidents and to steer clear of the sick, but if they didn’t hurry a dead brain in an otherwise healthy body would be all that remained. Still, he hesitated.

  Fearing failure, he had avoided bringing the boy last year when he first noticed the death signs, but as the septets passed he had convinced himself that with this son it would be different. This one deserved a chance at the life only he knew. They were so alike. And he was so lonely.

  He gazed at the familiar landscape, the impenetrable darkness of the water, the jumble of boulders they now rested upon, the gravel shore that gave way to green stubble and the path that led into the canyon. In the beginning he and his dying children had made this trip many times. He had always returned home alone. But that was many wives and mistakes ago. He was sure he understood the mystery now and this boy was special. He was, after all, his son of the towa, Mo Sy, his daughter. How much more of himself could he impart? Yes, this time it would be different. This boy would not die in his arms as tiny Mo Sy had.

  Iridescent air plankton, fleeing the frigid surface of the lake, had begun to swarm. The microscopic organisms rose like a mist and drifted up the canyon. It was time. If he couldn’t get his son to rise from the gray, lake boulder on which he rested, they would miss their opportunity.

  Wrapping an arm around his son’s waist, he lifted the two-meter towan from the boulder. He doubted that he would be able to carry his son very far. Thankfully, the lethargic body responded and they were able to travel beneath the living cloud and enter the narrow canyon. Had others ever followed the plankton swarm, drawn by the warmth and well being it radiated. He swiveled his head, taking measure of the glowing mass, the largest he had ever seen. They would make it.

  The dark alcove wasn’t far from the lake. It wasn’t hidden and wouldn’t have been of particular note had he not sought refuge here from a swarm so many lives ago. He positioned his son slightly off-center, nearer the jagged edge of the black rocks where he knew the effects would be the strongest. Looking deeply into the boy’s expressionless eyes, he told him, without expecting any response, not to worry. Surprisingly, the boy’s eyes momentarily focused and he awkwardly lifted an arm to run his double thumbs across his father’s heavily crosshatched initiation scar, a clear demonstration of his son’s love and respect.

  A moment later, billions of electrically charged organisms enveloped them, leaving them blind and deaf, erasing their real world. Only garishly painted images flickered on the canvas of their minds. Unnatural sounds and distorted pictures burst forth and fought each other for dominance. Memories exploded, vivid dreams blossomed, all converging in a whirlwind of emotions and ideas. Feeling the familiar rush of euphoria, the father opened his mouth and allowed the tiny energized plankton to flood into his food sacks until the folds in his neck billowed. He knew eating them wasn’t necessary, but they tasted good and he enjoyed immersing himself completely, their flavor enhancing the tingle that danced through his body.

  Currents flowed through the airborne plankton initiating their reproductive cycle. Normally the lake water would ground them, but the iron-rich black rock was a much better conductor. It made no difference to the microscopic life that two beings stood in their field, hoping to recharge the small gland in their brains that stored and supplied energy to the rest of their nervous systems.

  Afterward, father and son lay crumbled on the floor of the black magnetite alcove. Sight and reality slowly returned. Swallowing the last remnants from his food sacks, he raised his head stiffly from the boy’s dull gray shoulder and searched for signs in his son’s lifeless eyes. For a brief moment his deceased wife Mo Sy stared back…and then his son too was dead.

  It took a while, but he was able to drag the body back to the shore of the lake. The sky was clear now. The plankton swirled and thickened on the surface of the water. This would be where his son’s journey would end. He searched along the water’s edge, among the smoothly tumbled stones, until he found a piece of laskic shell and sharpened an edge before returning to the body. With a single slice, he opened a hole into the torso then reached inside, tore out a dark organ, and ate it. The aspic was most flavorful. While he savored it a discordant hiss suddenly filled the sky. He peered upward. A thin gray streak split the air as if someone from above had taken the laskic shell from him and cut the heavens. He tried to follow the head of the streak as it disappeared behind a distant mountain range. Streaks in the night sky were familiar, but he had never seen one during the day. Even for one that had lived so long and had seen so much, it was novel. Leaning back on his middle leg, he finished eating the aspic. A froth of memories and thoughts still bubbled inside his mind. Why, when the experience in the alcove left him exhilarated, did it destroy others? Why, when it fueled him, giving him so many years of extra life, did it also bring death? He had no answers, but until he did, he wouldn’t risk bringing anyone else to the Black Rocks.

  Before leaving, he glanced at his son’s body with pride and knelt down beside it. He slowly ran his two right thumbs along the raised initiation scar, feeling each of the nearly dozen crosshatches, one for each towan that the boy had mentored during his long and honorable life. Now, if his son were lucky, the cyliths would come.

  Foul Wind

  Elizabeth straightened and looked down from the top of the pyre at the human body wrapped in
coarse linen. The corpse had begun to smell days earlier, but Hyland’s last request—to be cremated on the lake—had been odd and it had taken her a long time to gather sufficient cottonbark to build a raft and still have enough to incinerate the body.

  Several steps below, Jorge peered up at her. She gathered the rough cloth of her skirt, pretending not to notice his indiscreet stares, and continued stacking and binding the precious branches. At twenty-six she wasn’t particularly modest, but still found the lecherous attention of a man twice her age unsettling. After two years of being his father’s nurse, Elizabeth had learned to avoid Jorge, but today even the assistance of a lazy, middle-aged man helped. Without him, the pyre would not be finished in time. Neither of them had ever done anything like this. No one, native or human, had ever been cremated on Syton before.

  They had begun building the wooden raft before the brightening, planning to be finished with their makeshift crematorium by the time people arrived, but now it was already past noon, the dimness fog had long disappeared from the lake, and mourners, along with the curious, were trickling in.

  Suddenly, a section of the pyre beneath Jorge collapsed, sending him crashing to his knees. Jagged branches tore through a trouser leg. He winced.

  “Shit. Damn crazy idea,” he sputtered, picking himself up out of the brambles.

  Elisabeth paused, taking a few breaths through her scarf to soothe the burn in her throat. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. Do I look all right? Does any of this seem the least bit all right to you? Let’s get the old man on top of this heap before one of us ends up joining him. One funeral is enough.”

  With as much dignity as the chore permitted, they lifted Hyland, and then using short lengths of rope, fastened the body to a frame meant to keep the guest of honor from rolling off when the raft containing the pyre was towed out onto the lake.

  They gathered a tinder pile of small twigs and kindling at the base of the cottonbark tower, and then quickly cleaned the area where the ceremony would take place. Grabbing what remained of their bundling twine, they made their way up the dirt path that led from the shoreline.

  After a few meters, the smell of death was replaced by fresh dung. The offending blaython, burdened with packs and supplies, stood guard over her master, napping just off the path. Elizabeth kicked the muddy boot protruding into their path. A deeply wrinkled red face appeared from beneath a worn leather cap.

  “There’s plenty of space in back of the cabin where you can hitch your smelly friend there,” said Elizabeth. “A lot of people are going to use this path.”

  The man glared up at Elizabeth. With difficulty he got to his feet, massaged his knees, and took a menacing step towards her, but stopped. She towered above him by almost a half meter. The man stared up at her face, strong and determined, streaked with dirt and sweat, a memorial tattoo beneath her ear. Her brown eyes held his without blinking. He looked down noticing her strong arms and legs, then laughed and turned to Jorge.

  “Are you Hyland’s kid?

  Jorge opened his mouth to answer.

  “Yeah, yeah, I can see it now.” The stranger turned back and surveyed Elizabeth once again—wide set eyes, a strong chin accented a pleasing oval face, dark auburn hair cascading past her athletic shoulders. He reached under his grimy hat for a quick scratch and then shook his head. “Nope, I give up. Never met you.”

  Elizabeth ignored him and turned her head down the path. “You should clean up after your animal.”

  “I have no control over the beast. Does what he wants.” He laughed, holding up both his hands, then extended one. “Membomba, Engineer Second Class, Henri Membomba, I worked with his father.”

  Elizabeth looked down at his filthy hand, but decided to shake it anyway. It was strange that a man who looked like he couldn’t afford a bar of soap could afford a blaython. “Elizabeth Tournell.” She tipped her head and looked under the animal. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s a she.”

  “Was and is the horniest he you’ll ever lay eyes on. Plumbing’s a bit messed up.” Membomba shrugged. “I was a better engineer than surgeon.”

  “Well, just get…whatever it is…off the path. If you’d like to freshen up; we’re done at the lake.”

  “I’m fine,” Membomba said, not picking up on the hint. He turned back to Jorge, “Listen kid, I’m sorry about your dad. We had good times together. Smartest man I ever knew. Taught me more than—”

  Jorge gave a small nod. “I don’t remember you.”

  “And why should you? That was a long time ago.” The rare donkey-like creature began to fidget. “Yeah, well maybe he would like a drink. I don’t think Hyland will mind, do you?” He chuckled, the only one that thought it the least bit funny. “Don’t let me keep you.” He started down the trail, casually kicking the dung aside. “Sure ya have work to do.”

  Laughter and screams greeted Elizabeth and Jorge as they approached the straw bale home. A wet naked boy burst through the cloth flap that served as a front door and ran into Elizabeth’s arms. She lifted him easily. A grinning middle-aged woman with a towel over her shoulder followed him out.

  “Elizabeth can’t protect you!” yelled the woman, her fingers outstretched and wiggling. She began tickling the squirming child.

  Smiling, Elizabeth let him down. The boy hugged her legs and looked up at his father. The older woman took the towel from around her shoulders and reached out for the boy. “Jorge, tell Wilem to let Elizabeth go. It’s time to settle down and get dressed.”

  Jorge looked at his ex-wife with disdain. “Nanc, how will he ever respect you if you won’t bother to learn how to talk to him?” He crouched down and used his hands to make signs while he spoke directly to the deaf boy. “Wilem, it’s time to get dressed. Obey your mother.”

  Elizabeth pried Wilem’s tight grip from her legs. He looked up at her, his big almond-shaped eyes begging. Wilem’s features were distinctly oriental, yet neither of his parents appeared to carry any similar genes. Elisabeth had often pondered whether that fact could have aided the collapse of their marriage, She brought her hand to her lips and kissed her fingers. Gently she placed them on the boy’s forehead. Reluctantly, he returned to his mother and they all went inside.

  Elizabeth had come to Lake Chook two years ago to help care for the ailing Hyland Wynosk. At the time, Jorge and Nanc’s marriage was already in trouble and the household barely functioned. Elizabeth couldn’t count the nights she endured the screaming, usually followed by Nanc escaping into Elizabeth’s small corner of the cabin, into her bed, crying. When Nanc, after tiring of Jorge’s abusive behavior and accusations finally ran away to join the women in the mountains, Elizabeth suddenly became Wilem’s nanny and the family’s housekeeper as well. Without Nanc, organized meals, regular bedtimes, clean clothes and discipline disappeared altogether. Elizabeth provided what little structure the Wynosk family had left, but her principle duty had been to Hyland. Today, even under these strained circumstances, it was a relief to have Nanc back.

  With Wilem being taken care of by his mother, Elizabeth could relax. She removed her depleted breathing scarf, crushed a meita and dropped them both into the red liquid of the communal treatment pot. Humans could breathe Syton’s atmosphere without great trouble; it was a close match, but not perfect. The sore throat was really a small inconvenience and eliminated entirely by the chemicals in the red tablets. Jorge handed Elizabeth his scarf and she soaked it before retreating to her small corner of the large one-room shelter. She drew the privacy drapes making sure they were pulled tightly against the irregular walls. Jorge’s leering had only become worse since Nanc left and she didn’t think his ex-wife’s presence would restrain his wandering gaze. If Wilem and Hyland hadn’t needed her, she’d have left months ago. But now…well, now it was different. She was free.

  A cool breeze entered through her window opening. Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Exhaling, she relaxed, feeling an inner peace soothing her. She t
urned, knelt down in front of the chest next to her straw mattress, and withdrew the only dress she owned—the funeral dress, as she had begun to think of it. It had been her mother’s before she died. Laying it out carefully on the bed, she recalled how beautiful her mother had looked in it, dancing with her brother Michael at her graduation. Her family had been so close then. It was just a few years ago, but she felt like it was a different lifetime. She absently touched Michael’s memorial tattoo beneath her ear. Two, now three funerals in as many years, and with each loss her life had become darker. At first, her fragile emotions hid just below the surface, but her brother’s recent death had forced them even deeper and now she was numb, her passions were in full retreat, her emotional core as frozen as the surface of Syton.

  She unwrapped the filthy skirt she wore and let it drop. A jug of water, her washbasin, and a few personal items stood on a small table in the corner. From a crude clay dish she took a piece of gray soap and cleaned her hands and face. The faint sweet flowery smell of keets calmed the harsh detergent smell of the lye and lingered briefly. She dipped an old rag into the soapy water and used it to wash the dirt from her feet.

  As she wrung the washcloth, the sound of approaching boots drifted through the open window, and then a knock against the doorframe. Instinctively, Elizabeth began to grab for her dirty wrap but remembered there were others to take care of the visitor and relaxed. Jorge or Nanc could find out who it was.

  Two more raps…

  “Hold on! I’ll be right there.” Jorge yelled out. He moved to the doorway and pushed the heavy woven cloth aside. Standing alone was an extremely tall, regal man with an immense broad hat. His shirt not only covered his arms but extra fabric had been sewn on the cuffs, which extended partly over his hands. The collar rose up high on his neck. He looked to be at least 80 years old, but his skin, what you could see of it, was pale, almost white, and unwrinkled.

  “Jorge, I’m not sure you will remember me,” began the man.

  Jorge held up his hand. “Stop. I know you’ve come a long way, Avram, but… this, you being here, isn’t right.”

  “Please…just give me a moment.” Avram Elstrada spoke softly, “I’m truly sorry about your dad and whether you believe me or not, he was a dear friend.” He hesitated. “If you would…I’d like it if… I mean, maybe I could help.”

  “Hyland never had much good to say about what you did, Avram. And I’m sure he wouldn’t want you here. I think it best if you just go.” When the tall stranger made no signs of moving, Jorge said boldly, “I’m asking you to leave, Avram.”

  “I loved your dad. I worked with him side by side for over thirty years. Without him…he must have saved us a hundred times. When I heard, I had to come. Please, we’ve been traveling for three straight days. May I come in out of the sun? Just for a moment.”

  Jorge stared at Avram as if he could detect the truth of the man’s statements from his appearance, and then past him, across the field, where two figures stood. Only one was human.

  Relenting, Jorge stood aside for Avram to enter. “Just for a moment and only you.”

  Elizabeth who had remained almost motionless throughout the exchange quietly rose and stepped into her funeral dress. She could hear heavy boots enter the house.

  “Those boots had better be clean,” Elizabeth said as she threw open her drapes and confronted the visitor. They locked eyes for a moment and even though she was slightly taller, Elizabeth felt small in the man’s presence. She glanced down, pretending to look at his boots, then up at his smooth unwrinkled face. Avram was smiling. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth insisted, “Don’t be tracking dirt in here.” She turned, and walked out through the doorway.

  “Who is she?” asked Avram watching her leave.

  Jorge waved her off as if she was a household pest. “Don’t mind her. Why are you here? What did you think you could possibly do to help?”

  Avram turned back to face Jorge. “I would like to speak at the funeral—just a few words at the graveside.”

  “That won’t be possible.”

  “I’ll keep it short.”

  “Absolutely not! Besides, there’s no grave.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No grave, he wanted to be cremated on the lake.”

  Avram smiled. “Even in death your dad has a sense of humor. I guess it’s fitting.”

  Jorge returned a rare smile. “I thought so. I’m glad you appreciate the irony.”

  “Of course. Then it’s even more important for me to say a few nice words, to explain.”

  “We don’t need you to explain anything. No one will understand why we’d let you speak.”

  “I’ll make them understand. Listen; what’s done is done. The disagreement was between Hyland and me. It was a long time ago and I did what I thought was necessary. Your father understood. What’s important now, today, is that he’s properly remembered. Who else can speak personally of those years and pay your father the proper respect?”

  There was silence. The question hung in the air.

  Avram continued. “There’re not many shipborn still alive. You know I’ve been giving speeches for the last thirty years, but this one’s special. It’s important to me that Hyland has an appropriate eulogy.”

  “I am more than capable of eulogizing my father.”

  “Avram nodded. “Of course you are. But this is his final farewell. Let all that knew him and loved him speak. I’ll make you proud to be his son.”

  “I am proud to be his son.”

  “I’m sorry, I know that. But others should know why you’re so proud. Let me tell them.”

  Confused, Jorge walked to the doorway. Elizabeth had kept the front cloth open in order to better hear the conversation she pretended to ignore. She sat, her long legs stretched out, relaxing on a rough hewn chair gazing at Avram’s companions. They were the true puzzle here. Whether Jorge knew yet what his answer would be, she knew from the beginning that Jorge would be unable to dissuade this man. The question of the moment was who those two were. The human was a young man, possibly thirty, dark hair, almost black she thought, and although shorter than his native companion, a strong athletic build. He looked familiar, but at this distance she couldn’t be sure. He held onto the reins of two additional blaython. Before today, she hadn’t seen more than three or four of the beasts. Standing next to the young man was a towan, nearly two meters tall. Surprisingly, they were conversing.

  Delaying a decision, Jorge asked the question that Elizabeth pondered as well, “Who’d you bring?”

  “Jasin came with me, and Sy Toberry.”

  Jorge considered this. “We don’t see many natives this far into the cold country.”

  “No. Sy Toberry’s a hardy one,” said Avram.

  “And where’s Julian?”

  “She…she wanted to come, but said it would be too hard. She said you’d understand and sends her love.”

  “Anyone else coming from Nova Gaia?”

  “Do you remember Beloit McMaster?”

  Jorge nodded.

  “He went down to investigate some trouble in Bistoun. He should be here tonight.” Avram walked up behind Jorge and gently put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be all right.” Avram said softly.

  Jorge took a deep breath and let out a groan reflecting his battle of indecision and doubt. He looked up at Avram. “Make it nice, okay?”

  “You have my word.” Then, as if it were an afterthought instead of the planned reward it truly was, Avram added, “By the way, have you thought about joining the Caucus? We’ll need someone from Lake Chook now that Hyland’s gone.” Without waiting for an answer, Avram put on his broad-rimmed hat and began to leave. “When are you going to have the ceremony?”

  When Jorge didn’t answer, Elizabeth spoke up. “We figure at beginning of dimness, before planet rising.”

  Avram turned to her and nodded. “I’m sorry we weren’t introduced. I’m Dai Avram Elstrada,” he
said using the full honorific.

  Elstrada…no wonder the young man was familiar. “I’m Elizabeth Tournell. Actually, my brother Michael and Jasin were friends at school. I met your son once when I was visiting.”

  “Tournell…from Panvera? Jasin and your brother were roommates. I knew your mother, Sidrah, and your father quite well.”

  Elizabeth straightened and lifted her head, “Dai Warren and Di Sidrah.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry. You are correct and they both deserved the honor.” He grinned. “Is your father coming?”

  “No, I don’t think he had much contact with Hyland.”

  Avram considered that for a moment. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Elizabeth. I’m sure Jasin will be happy to see a familiar face. I had to force him to come along. He hates going to funerals. These days that seems to be all I’m doing. Tell me, how is your family? Your dad, is he well?

  It was apparent he hadn’t heard about Michael. That wasn’t unusual as news from Panvera was a rare commodity in the lower settlements. Elizabeth nodded. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Good.” He appeared genuinely pleased. “But you must have much to do. We can talk tonight.”

  Elizabeth watched Avram rejoin his son. Jasin tied up their animals, and then the three of them took the path down to the lake. Elizabeth marveled at Avram’s charisma and power of persuasion. Of course, Jorge was weak and easily manipulated – even she had taken advantage of that over the last couple years­­ – but nonetheless she was quite impressed. Over the years, she had heard of Avram Elstrada. Who in the settlements hadn’t? It was he, who after nearly seven years of study, finally broke down the communication barrier between Humans and the Sytonians, and almost single-handedly negotiated the settlement agreement. There were a few, Hyland being the most outspoken, who thought Avram had given up too much to the natives, had too easily agreed to the Prohibitions, in order to be allowed to live in the Syton gorge. It was an old debate, which became academic over thirty years ago and of little interest now to anyone… well, almost anyone. Family grudges died hard. She was surprised that Jorge could still be so upset and was anxious to hear what Avram would say.

  Elizabeth and Jorge rejoined the others inside to complete preparations for the ceremony. Nanc had baked tiela gourd and flaxmeal biscuits earlier, and many who had come brought various sweet treats and spiced finger foods that needed to be organized. With Wilem’s eager help, Elizabeth prepared several pitchers of sweet melon drink and put together special trays for the keetah ritual. The time went quickly and soon it was time. As they made their way down to the lake, Jorge lit a dozen torches along the trail. The dimness would soon be upon them.

  When they arrived at the clearing next to the pyre, they were shocked to see nearly thirty of their Lake Chook neighbors. Fifteen families had come from other villages. Elizabeth recognized several from her hometown of Panvera and enjoyed small talk until the conversation would inevitably turn to Michael’s death and how she was coping. Excusing herself, she would slip away until cornered by the next. Three human families along with several male Sytonians had come from the fishing village of Bistoun at the other end of the lake. Of course there was Avram’s group from Nova Gaia, and Membomba, who appeared to have no permanent home. People mingled and exchanged news from the human villages. Almost all of the settlements were represented. Growth and expansion were the main interests. Nearly seven hundred humans now lived in six small towns or villages. Elizabeth guessed that many of the elderly, now frail and bent, had served with Hyland.

  Sy Toberry and the few other towan gathered with their cyliths and Elizabeth gave them wide berth. Jorge was right; she had rarely seen the pentapods and their animals this high in the gorge, except of course during Initiation season. As a child growing up in frigid Panvera, she had never seen a native. Even leaning back upon their third legs, the towan towered above most of the humans, she and Avram being the obvious exceptions. She paid special attention to the cyliths. More than mere pets, the towan treated their fierce dog-like companions with more deference than their towa, their wives. After all, throughout their lives, a towan never captured and trained more than a single cylith to provide company and protection. Towa, collected and exchanged as desired, were another, less important matter.

  Occasionally a towan would reach out and trace another’s fresh ritual scar. Their speech sounded like stuttering. Jasin Elstrada sat on a rock outcropping near the group and engaged in their spirited exchange. Natives, she knew, easily grasped Human, but few beside Avram, and obviously Jasin, could comprehend, much less speak the native’s language. Jasin looked up and smiled at her. She looked away, unsure of how to react to his glance. Hyland’s creamation had certainly attracted a mix of intriguing company.

  The sun was disappearing over the high, far ridge, and the pale yellow-green crescent of Conboet, the mother planet was making a final appearance. The dimness would soon be upon them. Elizabeth searched out the owners of the fishing boats and asked if any would be willing to tow the raft out a couple of hundred meters and ignite the wood pile when signaled.

  “We’ll pull the raft out, but we’re not starting any fires,” one of the fishing men apologized. The others nodded their agreement. “The towan are barely tolerating this whole circus.”

  “More than the wood, they don’t understand the wasting of the meat,” another spoke up.

  Elizabeth explained the problem to Jorge and Nanc. “Screw the lot of them!” Jorge cursed. “I’ll set the damn fire.” Jorge stormed off, away from the crowd, to calm down.

  Nanc followed her estranged husband to the shore of the lake where she took his arm. Elizabeth watched as he lowered his head onto her shoulder. He shuddered and Nanc hugged him. Several blundering visitors took the inopportune moment to approach Jorge and Nanc with their own heartfelt condolences. They talked of Hyland and often about Wilem. Genuine pride shone in the parents’ eyes when anyone referred to their son. If they had done anything right with their lives, it was having this spirited boy.

  Soon the dimness was upon them. Jorge reluctantly made his way over to a tumble of large rocks jutting out from the shoreline that could act as a convenient speaking platform. Before he could begin to climb them, he felt a strong hand on his arm. Turning, he found Avram standing beside him. “There is no need for you to burden yourself,” Avram began. “If you would like, I could—”

  Jorge shook off the hand. “You’ll have your time. This is mine.” And he climbed up on top of the rocks to address the crowd. The chatter quieted and all eyes turned to Jorge.

  “My family and I would like to thank you for coming and for bringing your memories and sincere words of love and concern.” Jorge took a moment to survey the upturned faces. “We, appreciate the effort many of you have taken to be with us today. I know that Father would appreciate you all being here. He cared for you all. The past thirty years since leaving the ship have been difficult for our family of engineers. They were especially difficult for Hyland. Except for the birth of our son Wilem, the time here on Syton meant little to him. For Father, Tanis was everything. He used to spend hours talking about life aboard her and the challenges we all faced. He remembered how we once fought to keep our home alive. For us… for us engineers, it was the most exciting time of our lives—using every trick, every tool, and every scrap of knowledge to keep Tanis running. For my father, those were the times that mattered.”

  Jorge hesitated, uncomfortable with the direction his tribute was taking. Many of those listening had only known Hyland as the old man of Lake Chook. He was talking as if only Hyland’s time aboard the ship had meant anything. He took a deep breath and continued.

  “Be assured that even in his last days of pain, Hyland never lost hope for this human settlement. It has been difficult for many of us to get used to this way of life, it has been difficult to accept this moon as our home, and it has been difficult to obey the Prohibitions. Father would say to me, ‘Don’t forget who you are. Don
’t forget how far we’ve come and what we humans have accomplished.’ So I will never forget, because it was important to him. Hyland was important to me, not just as a father, but as a mentor, as a teacher, and a confidant.”

  Jorge paused, and tried to collect his thoughts, unsure of what he would say next. “I don’t know if it is wrong for a son to tell others how great a man his father was.” His voice strained. “I’m not sure I can even put it into words….” At that point Jorge gave up trying to control his emotions. He raised his head, sniffled, and with a voice racked with pain and with great effort he finished. “All I really know for sure is I loved him.”

  Unbalanced, he stepped down from the rocks. Avram reached out to help him, but Jorge refused the hand. Little Wilem watched his Daddy. Sensing that something wasn't right, the boy ran into his father’s arms. Jorge hid his tears in a great hug.

  Watching the two of them comfort each other, Elizabeth felt her own tears surface. It was the first time she had cried since coming to Lake Chook. Father, son, grandfather, they had a special love, the kind she didn’t think she could ever share with anyone ever again. She turned away from the crowd embarrassed, realizing she wasn’t crying for Hyland. Self-pity did not suit her. She saw herself as strong and confident, riding above the waves of despair, but she was drowning and had been sinking deeper for months and like all life shielded from the sun’s rays below the water’s surface, hers had lost its color.

  Jorge and Wilem took a flaming torch and approached the pyre. A peculiar chorus of discordant Sytonian refrains rose out of the alien group. Elizabeth turned towards them expecting trouble, but they lowered their voices. Jorge looked out over the faces, then turned, took a last look at the body, and then plunged the torch into the dry kindling. The thin cottonbark twigs caught immediately, sending off a loud crackling and an oily smoke, which surrounded the body before staining the air black above the corpse. The fishing boats slowly towed the flaming pyre out into the bay.

  Avram waited patiently until the boats returned and their crews rejoined the crowd. Then he slowly climbed the rock outcropping. He had removed his oversized hat, revealing a short black ponytail that was heavily streaked with white. His soft gray eyes spoke of kindness and sincerity. With a natural grace, he waited until everyone turned their attention towards him. For a brief moment, he lowered his head, as if in prayer. Raising his head, he spoke in a strong voice. “Hyland’s family has graciously allowed me to add a few words in memory of our friend.”

  Those in the crowd that knew Avram realized that it would probably not be just a few words and found comfortable spots in the clearing to sit. Others took the hint and joined them on the ground. Elizabeth moved to stand within a bright circle of one of the torches. Again, Avram waited until he had everyone’s attention.

  “For the few I haven’t had the privilege of meeting, I am Avram Elstrada, founder of the Human Caucus for our settlement here on Syton, the second moon of Conboet. Hyland Wynosk was my closest friend for nearly forty years. We grew up together; our families had quarters next to each other. He served as Chief Engineer for nearly twenty-five years and during my tenure as second-in-command of Tanis he was without a doubt the single most valuable member of the crew.”

  Jorge spoke of Hyland’s devotion and dedication to preserving our home aboard Tanis, but few can truly understand just what a remarkable man he was without knowing the daunting challenge he continually faced maintaining our fragile old ship. When Hyland and I were born, Tanis was already over 650 years old. She had housed at least 25 generations and during our time she carried nearly 400 of us. The records aboard Tanis told us that she, and others like her, were built to carry our ancestors into space, to settle colonies such as this one, that would insure that the Human race would continue to grow and survive. No one knew how long it would take for those ships to find suitable new homes, but I’m sure the original designers and builders never anticipated that Tanis would have to last almost seven centuries.”

  Before we discovered Syton, many of the ship’s systems were failing. The ship was literally falling apart. Hyland and the other engineers worked around the clock performing one miracle after another. There were countless days that my friend never slept. We all would have perished if it were not for him. We stand here today, able to hold our loved ones, able to raise our families, able to complete the dream our ancestors began, all because of Hyland.”

  Avram glanced over his shoulder to look at the lake and the cremation taking place in the bay. He dipped his head into his medicated scarf and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “Once before, nearly thirty years ago, we gathered at this spot for another ceremony where Hyland was the central figure. I am sure many of you remember, but let me tell the others.”

  After we all transferred from Tanis to our new home here in the Syton gorge, Hyland sent the dying ship crashing into the sun. He then piloted the last existing shuttle to this very spot where it remained for years. At the Sytonians request, and as a sign of our commitment to the adopted rules of conduct, specifically the second Prohibition restricting the use of advanced technology, we agreed to destroy the shuttle and all that it represented. For sentimental reasons, the idea was difficult for Hyland to accept at first. Finally he agreed, asking that he, as the Chief Engineer, be allowed to demonstrate his acceptance of this most difficult Prohibition. In one of his finest—and I’m sure most difficult acts—Hyland sent the shuttle out into the center of this deep bay, not far from where his body burns tonight, and there he set the shuttle on fire by exploding the fuel supply. It was a spectacular display that none of us will ever forget. She burned for quite a while, and then sank, disappearing into this lake forever.”

  I believe Hyland is sending us a message today by his unusual request to follow the shuttle into the depths of Lake Chook. He wants us to remember his brave and symbolic act of acceptance and sacrifice. He wants us to remember how important it is to be committed to the ideas of peace and to remember that our toys of technology are not as important as our humanity. So I beg of you to remember this great man, remember his selfless deeds, both aboard Tanis and here, in this very bay on Syton. My friend was a true hero and will be an inspiration to me and our people forever.”

  By the time Avram finished, the pale algae green crescent of the planet Conboet was just setting. The flaming raft painted a colorful mural of orange, red, and yellow flames against a darkening greenish-blue sky. The effect was temporary. The background colors faded and soon the flames fought against the growing light of Syton’s sister moon Eian, as it made its way into the evening sky. The crowd knew the formal speeches were over. If anyone else had anything to say, no one had the courage to follow Avram’s eloquence. There was an awkward moment when no one moved, waiting until they were told what to do next. Elizabeth broke the silence.

  “We’d like to thank you all for coming,” announced Elizabeth. “Please join us for refreshment and in a few minutes we’d like to offer those who are interested a ceremonial cup of keetah.”

  Nanc gratefully accepted a few last cakes and platters of cookies from neighbors and placed them among the other food on a flat board that served as a table. Glasses of sweet melon juice were passed around. Elizabeth started a small cooking fire and heated a kettle of water. She portioned out the powdered keetah into as many cups as she had, and when the water boiled she poured it into the cups.

  Most of the humans were helping themselves to the other refreshments, but Avram, Jasin, and the Sytonians clearly had their eyes on Elizabeth and her preparations. Jorge came over to help pass out the dozen or so cups of steaming keetah. Sy Toberry carefully took a cup from Elizabeth, managed a strange sounding “Thank you” in Human, and then held it between his thumbs, supporting the bottom with his other hand. The other Sytonians held their cups in identical fashion. The few humans in this group pretended to support the cup with their other hand, as the aliens were doing, but the cups were much too hot to be placed on a human palm. Still,
they knew it was proper etiquette to try.

  Jorge began the keetah ceremony, but was immediately interrupted by Membomba. “Excuse me, son…but this isn’t right. Don’t get me wrong,” he hesitated, looking for an inoffensive way to phrase it, “I mean your father was a fine man and all that, but you shouldn’t have to do this. You’re family.”

  Everyone else just stared at Membomba. Avram looked at Jasin and raised an eyebrow. Jasin returned the look and shook his head. Even Elizabeth knew it was bad manners to interrupt once the keetah had been handed out. The natives let out a low grumbling sound. Sy Toberry stepped forward and confronted Membomba. “You must not stop him. The keetah is hot. The ceremony has begun. Now you must continue.” Toberry towered above Membomba and thrust a finger at the engineer’s chest. Henri Membomba looked up at the scarring on the alien’s chest. This male had initiated so many young that his scars overlapped and blended together. He was a Sytonian adult male, a towan, of significant stature. He and the other towans took these ceremonies seriously.

  Membomba looked around at the other humans searching for support but found none. He looked back at Sy Toberry and nodded his acquiescence. He stepped to the center of the group with his cup before him and proclaimed in a loud voice, “We raise our cup in honor and respect, in remembrance and brotherhood, to my mentor and our friend Hyland Wynosk. May his spirit live on in all of us. Tyhinga!” and then he drank deeply from the steaming cup searing his mouth and throat.

  In unison, the group immediately echoed the traditional salute and swallowed the burning liquid. The narcotic effect of the keetah quickly deadened the pain, but not before several of the humans in the group let out small groans of agony. The natives burst forth with a triumphant howl. Everyone then spilled the remaining keetah from their cups and returned them to Elizabeth. All except Avram, who held on to his cup and sipped at it while the others disbanded.

  Noticing this behavior, Sy Toberry walked over to Avram. “Dai Avram, you must not continue. This is bad for you. I have told you before not to drink cold keetah. It is bad here.” He pointed at Avram’s chest.

  “Sy Toberry, I thank you. I am fine. You are most wise, but I have drunk keetah for nearly thirty years and prefer it cooler.” Avram replied.

  “Keetah is only for important times. It is only drunk hot.”

  Avram smiled at his friend Toberry and turned the cup over, spilling the keetah at their feet. This satisfied the towan, who then turned and rejoined the other natives. Avram shook his head and walked over to where Elizabeth was standing with the other cups and handed his to her. “It’s silly to waste keetah of that quality. Where was it from?” Avram asked.

  “A trader sold it to us earlier this week. I believe he said it came from T’Matte.” Elizabeth answered. “He claimed it came from the same stock as the keetah of the Council of Seventeen. I didn’t believe him.”

  “It’s possible,” mused Avram. “I have tasted this quality before during other their ceremonies. Do you have anymore?”

  “We just used every bit we purchased. It is not the sort of thing we keep in the house.”

  “I suppose not.” Disappointed, Avram turned his attention towards the dispersing crowd and together they watched the arrival of a short stocky man. Sy Toberry also paid close attention to this bald newcomer who approached Jorge and began talking to him. Elizabeth and Avram stood in silence. Finally Avram spoke, “You’ve done a fine job here considering the family…” He paused searching for a diplomatic word. “dynamics. Impressive. It must have been especially difficult after Nanc left.”

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Elizabeth lied.

  “No?” Avram turned to face her, looking for deceit in her face. Elizabeth stared back. “Well, you’ve done well. Do you plan on staying?”

  Again she lied, “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Well, if you do think about it, we’re looking for help in Nova Gaia. Sy Toberry there,” he indicated the towan, “decided he needed a new fourth wife, so we lost our housekeeper. You would have room and board as you have here…maybe a bit nicer.”

  “It depends on what they decide to do about Wilem” She looked over and saw Jasin playing with the Wilem. Normally, adults avoided the boy, uncomfortable with his handicap. They seemed to be getting along fine.

  “Did you teach him to sign?” asked Avram.

  “No, it was Hyland.”

  “I wonder if he made up the language. Can’t say we ever had a case of deafness aboard Tanis.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Hyland knew many things.”

  “You have no idea,” Avram turned and watched as the new arrival and Sy Toberry walked purposefully towards him. “Please excuse me Elizabeth, it was a pleasure.” He stepped away to greet them.

  Elizabeth nodded but took her time gathering the last remnants of the keetah ceremony. She hoped to overhear what had delayed the Enforcer.

  “Avram, I’m sorry to have missed your eulogy. To tell you the truth I was surprised that Jorge even allowed it,” began Beloit McMaster. He was a powerfully built man, who carried a strange intensity of purpose. Over two decades ago, Avram had convinced the Human Caucus to give McMaster the responsibility of enforcing human compliance to the Prohibitions, the eight rules of conduct that Avram had negotiated on behalf of the settlers and accepted, with considerable heated debate, as a condition for their colonization.

  “I left Bistoun as soon as I was able. The place hasn’t changed. What a crazy collection of characters!” continued Beloit. “Avram, just be glad you didn’t come with me.”

  “Bistoun is a wonderful place,” Avram argued. Then looking straight at Toberry with a twinkle in his eye, “You can get or do anything you want there, and no one would ever stop a man from having a simple cup of keetah.”

  “You might even get something there you’d regret,” Beloit said playfully.

  Avram smiled. “So I gather you’re not moving back there.”

  “This might be a bad time.” Looking around, he caught Elizabeth eavesdropping. “We need to talk…in private.”

  They moved away from Elizabeth. Then Avram turned to Toberry, and although the native spoke Human well, Avram addressed him with respect in his native tongue. “Sy Toberry, respectfully sir, Beloit and I need to be alone. Would you tell Jasin to prepare a sleeping place for all of us?” Together they watched the departing towan to make sure he was out of range.

  “It’s an odd town, Avram. Native and human working and living together, young towan initiates from the warmer region passing through on their way to the wilderness areas, others returning starved and bloodied, many with their new cylith pups. A lot of keetah is being traded and drunk. And there’s always a few young women looking for…accommodations. It’s a busy place.” McMaster hesitated.

  “Bistoun has always attracted a special assortment. You of all people shouldn’t be surprised. I doubt it’s changed much since you left. What’s the problem?”

  “A woman’s been raped—one of the tavern whores. It was difficult finding anyone that would talk, but once the ice broke…they said it was savage and brutal.”

  “It’s a stupid, dangerous game those girls play, Beloit, a different partner each night. But what’s the problem? How do you know it wasn’t just, you know, just a little rougher than normal?”

  “You don’t understand. I think we have a real incident here, a diplomatic incident.”

  “Beloit, the Sytonians don’t care about some aberrant human behavior. Considering a son just set fire to his father while we all drank and ate…they already think we’re crazy. Humans raping each other on this fractured rock, where the males treat their females like breeding stock, is hardly a diplomatic emergency.”

  Beloit shook his head and moved closer. “This attack was apparently horrendous. From what I gathered, rape might be too tame a word for what happened to this woman. No one I talked to had a better word for it, Avram, but she was apparently ravaged, ripped and torn. Avram…no one believes a human could
have done it.”

  “That’s impossible and you know it! What you’re implying is ridiculous. Did you see her? Know who she is?”

  “No…I wasn’t there long enough. I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Is she dead?”

  Beloit shrugged.

  Avram shook his head. “Human history is full of the most awful physical deprivations you can imagine. We just haven’t dealt this kind of depravity here before, but now that our numbers have grown we’re bound to see some aberrant behavior. To think it might be a towan, however, is more perverted than the attack itself. The Sytonians are the most peaceful race I can imagine. To my knowledge, since we arrived, there hasn’t even been a single incident of violence amongst the natives, much less against a human. How can you assume a totally different species would be sexually interested, able, or violent enough?” Avram didn’t wait for a reply. “No. There is no viable record, outside of mythology, of any interspecies rape. The rape of a human is a human act of violence. Without question, Beloit, we are the most violent race on this moon. Don’t even let yourself consider anything else for an instant.”

  The prohibition enforcement officer stood momentarily silenced by the strength of Avram’s conviction, but eventually he shook his head. “Avram, if there was fraternization; it could be a violation of the sixth Prohibition.”

  “That Prohibition is meant to avoid undue influence. Don’t misunderstand me,” Avram put a hand on his Enforcer’s shoulder, “this is bad. You’re probably right; this could be a diplomatic problem. If the humans in Bistoun start to worry about the Sytonians there, it could spread to other villages. The peace and our settlement could be at risk from this misunderstanding. The end result could be real violence, not just imagined, and that would be a definite breach of the Prohibitions. We can’t afford friction. There aren’t even seven hundred of us here. I want you to go back, I know it isn’t strictly within your responsibilities, but we must uncover the truth and you’re the best we have. Find the man who did this and bring him before the Caucus. We need to do it quickly before this gets out of hand.”

  “That will be nearly impossible, Avram. The trail’s cold. It took me most of a day before I could find a person who’d talk to me. No one believes it could be a human. No one’s ever heard of a human capable of that kind of violence.”

  “No one’s heard of a towan who’s capable of it either. Trust me Beloit. This is the kind of lie that will spread fast. Go back tomorrow and take Jasin. He’s been working with you for a year now and he’s hardly been out of Nova Gaia. He needs the field experience and you could use the help. His ability to speak their language will be an asset.”

  McMaster took a deep breath through his breathing scarf and looked out at the flaming raft. It was still burning strongly, creating strange shadows among those few who had not departed. The mixed scents of the burning drifted through them like spirits happy to be liberated.

  “Avram…ever think about your own death? About how we might die? Whether anyone will be left to speak at our memorial service?”

  Avram threw an arm around Beloit’s shoulders. “You look exhausted. Grab some food and relax.”

  Beloit shrugged off Avram’s embrace. “I’ve thought about my own…and I don’t think many people will care. Most will probably be happy to be rid of me. You may have been the one to approve of the Prohibitions, but I’m the one who enforces them. People are unhappy to see me arrive and glad to see me leave. You can’t believe the hatred I felt in Bistoun.”

  Avram began to respond but Beloit cut him off. “You haven’t the slightest idea what I feel, the reaction I get from people once they know who I am, why I’m there. To you they bestow honor. Dai Avram Elstrada.” He spat out the name like it was poison. “You must realize that a lot of humans secretly hate you for forcing us to live like this, for giving up thousands of years of human progress, but they would never treat you poorly. When you die, they will sing your praises. They will talk of your breaking the language barrier, of your patient negotiations and guidance of the Human Caucus. You helped create the restrictions and rules we must live by, but you’ll be remembered fondly.” He shook his head trying to find understanding in irony. “I just make sure we follow those rules and they hate me for it. They take out their anger on me so they don’t have to hate their hero. You want me to find a deranged human so it doesn’t become a huge incident, so the peace you helped create doesn’t disappear. But it means I will be questioning my own kind, generating resentment wherever I go. I’m not sure I want to go back to Bistoun. I’m tired of being the hated one. Are you sure you want your son to share in that?”

  “Forgive me, Beloit. I was insensitive. You’ve traveled a long way without rest and the first thing I request is for you to make the trip again. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me.”

  Beloit slowly shook his head again. “Avram, don’t play with me. Give me at least that much respect.”

  Avram grinned. “We’ve worked together too many years…but honestly, you do look tired.”

  “I’ll be fine. Tell Jasin we’ll leave at first light.”

  “I’ll tell him, and do be careful.” This time Avram sounded sincere.

  Beloit pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “While you’re there—” Avram began.

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “Elizabeth said there was a trader from T’matte. His stuff was exceptional.”

  “You really shouldn’t be using so much.”

  Avram smiled. “I use it only for ceremonial purposes.”

  “I think perhaps you celebrate too much.”

  Avram grasped Beloit by the shoulders and faced him squarely. “My friend, we need to celebrate. We’re safe and secure, due in no small part to you and Hyland. We couldn’t have been luckier than finding this moon when time ran out.”

  Beloit shrugged off Avram’s embrace. “I’m going to get some rest. Tell Jasin to be ready.” He turned and headed up the path, leaving Avram standing alone.

  “Beloit!” Avram shouted after him. Elizabeth looked over towards them.

  McMaster stopped and turned.

  Avram took a few steps toward him. “I’ll speak at your funeral, my friend…if I’m still alive.”

  “And what will you say about me? Do you really know what I’ve been through, what my life’s been like?” Beloit turned away and continued up the path, alone.

  After everyone had departed, Elizabeth sat alone on the shoreline surrounded by four bright torches. She gazed out into the dark bay, watching the dying embers of what had been the raft. In the last year she had begun to hate the dimness, afraid of what lay just beyond the light, but the bickering in the cabin had started up again and she knew Nanc would be seeking refuge in her bed tonight. Experience had shown that it was better to share the mattress after Nanc had fallen asleep.

  It was time to leave Lake Chook. She knew father and son would be just fine. Jorge loved his son and could be an attentive father, especially if there were no distractions. Avram’s offer intrigued her. While it wasn’t health care, it allowed her to move on, without retreating back to Daddy and the icy village of Panvera. She had never been to Nova Gaia. It was larger than Lake Chook and more developed. Lost in thought, she was startled by a deep, calm voice. She flinched.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that,” Elizabeth complained. She recognized Jasin Elstrada as he entered the ring of light. His black hair was quite long and tousled; she had remembered him as neatly trimmed.

  “Sneak up? I made so much noise coming down the path I was sure you heard me. I’m sorry that I scared you,” he said, brushing a loose strand from his eye.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Do you remember me?” asked Jasin.

  She decided not to make it easy on him. “I’m sorry. There have been a lot of people here today.”

  “I’m Jasin Elstrada. We’ve met before. I was your brother Michael’s roommate.”
>
  “I think I remember you.”

  “I didn’t have a chance to talk to you earlier. You were so busy. Do you mind if I sit?”

  “I was just about to go in,” Elizabeth said, hoping he would realize she wasn’t in the mood to talk, not in the mood for anything.

  “Just for a second? I know you must be exhausted but…”

  “But?”

  “I was wondering about Michael. How’s he doing? Last time I talked to him, he was going back to Panvera after school. I lost track of him.”

  Elizabeth turned away to stare out into the water. She said softly, “They say you are going to be an Enforcer like Beloit McMaster.”

  “I am an Enforcer.”

  “Then you should be more aware of what happens around here.” Elizabeth turned slowly to face him. “My brother is dead.”

  “No…” Jasin’s pain was evident. He sat down near her. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard. What happened?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  They sat in silence for several long minutes until finally Elizabeth relented. She took a deep, soothing breath through her breathing scarf. “We were camping along the fringe of the wilderness area where the young towan go for Initiation. It was already hours into the dimness when some Initiate flushed a small pack of cyliths into our site. They surprised us. Michael tried to fight them off, but there had to be a dozen of them.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and pretended to be looking out over the water. For the second time today tears formed and rolled down her cheek. Not wanting to embarrass her, Jasin looked away. The bright circle of torches now made sense to him.

  “How long ago?” It was obvious her grief was fresh.

  “Not quite a year ago, it was nearly the dark time, a week before the last Rhan-da-lith,” she said in almost a whisper.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Elizabeth just nodded. There was an awkward pause.

  Jasin stood up. “I’ll let you be. I just wanted…it was nice seeing you again Elizabeth. I’m sorry…about not knowing…about your brother.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I was wondering…” Jasin hesitated until Elizabeth turned toward him. Her moist eyes sparkled in the light of the torches. “If I return this way when we’re through in Bistoun, would you mind if I stopped back?”

  “You’re going to Bistoun?”

  “In the morning.”

  “Both you and your father?”

  “No, my father is returning to Nova Gaia. I’m going with Beloit. Did you have a chance to meet him?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and then hesitated before asking, “Jasin, your Dad mentioned that you had lost your housekeeper, and that there might be a job available?”

  Jasin shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve heard that Sy Toberry is taking Seanne Sy to replace his Fourth.”

  Once again silence enveloped them. Not a single ember glowed in the bay. A few stray insects flickered about the torches sending eerie shadows darting back and forth on the ground. After a moment of thought, Elizabeth stood and grabbed a torch, and while one was sufficient, Jasin took a second. Together they walked up the path.

  Bistoun

  Maelstroms of ice and snow scour the frozen surface of Syton with enough force to tear off human flesh and then sand the bones smooth. Looking for a possible home, it was no wonder the crew of Tanis initially rejected this moon in favor of Eian, the inner, warmer moon of the mother planet, Conboet. If Eian’s atmosphere had been breathable, they would never have taken another look at the second moon, Syton, and would never have discovered the mammoth fissure and plume of steam rising from its depths. At the bottom, thirteen kilometers below the ice fields, molten rock and gas escaped the inferno hidden deep within the moon’s core. There, blood would boil. But between this hell and the frozen surface, on a vast plateau three hundred kilometers wide that formed where the canyon walls rested momentarily from their relentless descent, the planetary geologists discovered a temperate zone, and a fragile ecosystem that could provide salvation for the desperate crew of Tanis.

  They also discovered the natives that already lived there.

  The snow and ice that swept into the gorge, melted and trickled down its steep sides, the frigid water ran through peaks and mountains, and cascaded in gushing waterfalls to eventually fill Lake Chook. The Andoree River then sucked out the water and delivered it to an even greater lake beyond. The tidal forces of Syton’s mother planet and its sister moon yanked and pushed the water back and forth before it spilled over the lip of the great basin and onto the superheated rocks below. There it turned into steam, and rose out of the gorge to freeze and fuel the ferocious storms that ravaged the surface.

  Jasin waded out into the icy water of Lake Chook until he was waist deep and washed off the grime of the trail, finishing by a quick dunk under the frigid water. Shock and an immediate headache served to dissolve the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind. Ashore, he retrieved his filthy pants and shirt from the same rocky outcropping that his father had spoken from the night before. He dressed, and waited for Beloit McMaster. The sun had barely risen, but the dimness was waning.

  His unsettled thoughts bounced between Michael’s horrible fate, beautiful yet impenetrable Elizabeth, and the investigation that awaited them in Bistoun. Jasin forced himself to concentrate on the days ahead. Once before he had experienced the fishing village of Bistoun and the guilty pleasures it afforded, but it was with Michael. Vivid memories of an indulgent break from school should have left little room for thoughts of anything else, but soon the image of Elizabeth surrounded by a ring of torches, her captivating eyes, and the gruesome thought of her brother’s death by the pack of wild cyliths returned like a flood. Again he tried to put it out of his mind, but again Elizabeth and Michael returned—a torturous loop.

  Chilling wind blew through Jasin’s wet hair. He squeezed the water out. There should be time to get it cut in Bistoun, he thought. Being from high Nova Gaia, he easily tolerated the cold; he was quite accustomed to it. With the exception of Panvera, his hometown was probably the coldest human settlement on Syton, but this morning, the cold moist breeze off the lake penetrated his clothes and chilled him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken that dip. A few days ago, he had looked forward to visiting Lake Chook, but now he couldn’t wait to leave. If only last night had been different, if she hadn’t been so unapproachable. He shivered; evidently everything was cold in Lake Chook.

  Things would heat up in Bistoun. Jasin smiled. While it was still on the water’s edge, at least it had redeeming qualities. He remembered the bathhouse Michael and he had gone to, and the accommodating girls in the barbershop next door…but Michael was dead. Jasin’s thoughts again began to repeat themselves. Thankfully, McMaster broke the cycle.

  “You didn’t bring a razor either I see,” said Beloit, eyeing Jasin’s stubble. “I thought I’d be heading home. Well, there are plenty of talented blades ahead.”

  Jasin rubbed his cheek, “Maybe I’ll grow a beard.”

  “Girls don’t like a rough face.”

  Jasin shrugged. “You cleaning up?” he asked.

  Beloit looked out across the bay. Fog obscured its cold surface. He shook his head. “Let’s get going. We’ll take a break in a few hours. I’ll freshen up then.”

  Without much conversation, the two made their way to the clearing where they had spent the night. Avram squatted next to a crackling fire chewing a hard biscuit. A pot of water nestled in a bed of glowing embers.

  “Want something to warm your insides before you go?” he asked. “Got some tea left and a few stale biscuits from home.”

  Jasin looked to Beloit who answered, “We’ll take what you can spare.”

  Avram stood up slowly and went over to his blaython. From his pack, he drew out a full package of unopened food and handed it to Beloit. “Leftovers from Nanc. A gift from one of their neighbors they didn’t use or need.” He shr
ugged his shoulders.

  “Thank her for us,” Beloit said. He stuffed the package inside one of his travel sacks, then carried them over to his blaython and slung them over the animal’s bony haunches.

  “Do you have time for a warm drink?” Avram asked.

  “Sure,” answered Jasin.

  “We need to get going,” Beloit said abruptly. “I’d like to make the Fork before dimness.”

  “Well then, you two have a safe trip. I’m anxious to hear what you find out.”

  Jasin cocked his head. This was cold behavior between friends. Fork Camp wasn’t that far. Beloit knew it. His father was well aware of the distance. He walked over to his own animal and closed his bags. His father came up beside him.

  “Be careful in Bistoun,” Avram said. “Someone won’t be happy you’re there.”

  Jasin nodded and glanced over to Beloit, then back to his father. “Is everything ok?”

  “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just be safe.”

  Jasin searched his father’s face looking for more, but his father just smiled. “As usual, you’re concerned about the wrong things.” Avram placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m very serious; take care of yourself,” Avram insisted.

  Jasin grabbed the reins, placed his foot on the blaython’s extended center leg and climbed up.

  Beloit mounted then spoke over a shoulder to Avram. “We’ll probably see you in about a week,”

  “Whatever it takes,” replied Avram.

  Jasin lifted his hand in farewell. In response, his father tossed him the biscuit he had been holding.

  Leaving Lake Chook, they rode past small fields of purple flax fighting for life in the alien soil, and then they turned towards the lower canyon pass. A damp wind blew in from behind, forcing them to raise the collars of their oiled overcoats. There was no satisfactory way to ride a blaython comfortably. The towan’s double knees allowed them to wrap their longer legs around the animal’s bony midsection, but human’s, especially shorter ones like Jasin and Beloit, usually ended up with bruises and cramps in exchange for the quicker ride.

  The fastest route to Bistoun was by boat, but then they would have had to give up the valuable pack animals, making for a long walk back to Nova Gaia once they had completed their investigation. They could have tried to forge a trail along the lake and then the river, but Beloit decided to travel the established path, temporarily away from Bistoun, even if it wasn’t the most direct. Once they got to Fork Camp they would angle back towards the Andoree River instead of continuing up into the canyon.

  After two hours, sunlight broke through the steam clouds and the brisk wind subsided. Beloit pulled them off the main trail. “There are dozens of creeks and streams flowing out of the canyon and down to the Andoree,” explained Beloit. “Look for the stiff grasses and umbrella weed. They seem to prefer wet soil.” A minute later they arrived at a slow moving stream. “The shallow water will be much warmer than the lake if you want to freshen up,” Beloit said removing his clothes.

  Jasin washed the trail dirt from his face and relaxed while Beloit finished bathing and rinsing his hair. Beloit must have been amused at his dip in the freezing water this morning, Jasin reflected. “What’s going on between you and my father?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Just felt it.”

  Beloit left the water and gathered up his things. “Nothing much, a small difference in opinion.”

  “Small?”

  “Minor really. You ready to get going?”

  “It didn’t seem minor.”

  “Did the animals get water?” asked Beloit.

  Jasin looked over to the blaython resting not far from the stream’s edge. “I suppose so.”

  “Make sure, then let’s go.”

  Jasin walked over to the pack animals and brought them right to the stream’s edge. They weren’t interested.

  “They’re fine,” reported Jasin.

  Beloit finished tying his boot and, without another word, led them out of the grasses.

  It was still early afternoon when they arrived at Fork Camp. From here, you could either continue up into the canyon and eventually farther into the cold country towards the Great Falls and Nova Gaia, or you could head around the lower side of Mount Schtolin and then ascend to Panvera. They planned to follow yet another trail and descend toward the Andoree and to the ferry landing across from Bistoun. Being at this crossroads, the camp was heavily used. At least three distinct groups were busy making camp before the dimness returned. Jasin recognized several people who had attended Hyland’s funeral. Getting to the next higher camp was a full day’s travel from here. No one traveling higher would be starting this late in the day.

  “What do you think?” Jasin asked.

  “There’s plenty of room for two more if you’re tired,” Beloit said.

  Jasin heard the challenge in Beloit’s voice. “There’s plenty of light. Let’s head towards the river.”

  “We won’t make it before we lose most of the light.”

  “So?”

  “We’ll have to make camp. Not scared of the cyliths?” asked Beloit.

  “I doubt any packs are this close to Bistoun. The Initiates have probably cleaned out the area.” Jasin looked over to Beloit to see if his answer satisfied his boss. He couldn’t tell. “Ever see any between the falls and the river?”

  Beloit laughed. “Never even heard of anyone who has.”

  They refilled their water bags and took the trail angling back down towards the river. It was less used than the trails to Lake Chook or up into the canyon, but they made good time, stopping only to stretch their legs.

  The day had passed without them having eaten anything substantial, so an hour or so before dimness, they made camp, fixed a quick dinner, and then scouted the area. While they walked, they gathered several small bundles of sticks. Beloit asked Jasin to make the fire while he retrieved the sleeping blankets and ground cloths. He laid them in the small clearing, propped himself up, crossed his arms, and watched Jasin work on the fire. Almost immediately, Jasin heard snoring.

  Digging in his backpack, Jasin found his remaining flint needle. On their way to the funeral, Avram had requested boiling water almost every night. Keetah didn’t dissolve well unless the water was extremely hot.

  From the wood they had collected Jasin made a small mound of kindling, and then searched along the edge of the clearing for a few fresh popper thorns that hadn’t yet split. He found several and snapped them off, careful not to break them too close to the stem and risk releasing their methane gas. Bending over the kindling, he held the flint needle and poppers together, and then with a practiced flick of the wrist, snapped them in two and plunged the resulting tiny blue flame into the dry kindling. A blaze soon bathed their campsite in a flickering glow.

  The crackling woke McMaster and he distributed the greasy pemmican Avram had provided. Jasin nibbled at the mixture of jerky, nuts, and dried fruit, but gave up, preferring to be hungry rather than sick. He leaned back and watched the sparkling ashes rise into the evening sky where they mixed with the half dozen stars visible overhead.

  “I can’t believe how many stars you can see on a clear night,” Jasin said.

  Beloit laughed. “And I will never get used to how few you see from down here.”

  “Do you really miss being trapped inside that small ship?”

  “Wasn’t small.”

  “I mean compared to this world. It must have been like living your life inside a single home, never able to leave, seeing the same walls year after year.”

  “We never knew any different. Most of us never wanted to leave. The thought of leaving the ship petrified us. It was our world. It took a long time to understand that we had to leave, that the ship was dying, and that we couldn’t take the chance that we’d find another world before the ship failed. If it weren’t for that, I don’t think anyone would have left. Even after most of us understood that staying on th
e ship meant eventual death, there were a few that refused to leave. The doctor and a couple of the older ones had to be drugged. Hyland carried them from the ship himself.”

  “How about you?” asked Jasin.

  “I left standing.”

  “Hyland?”

  “People misunderstood Hyland’s reluctance. When it was time for Hyland to leave, he went willingly. He wasn’t the rebel your Dad was. Everyone trusted Hyland and his staff. It was Avram who was always a little radical.”

  Jasin sensed the reemergence of the morning’s coolness. “I take it this trip to Bistoun wasn’t your idea.”

  “Hardly, but we need to go. We need to find out what happened to that whore and try to keep the peace.”

  “How do you know she was—?”

  “A whore? All the misfits run away to Bistoun to find something better, but sooner or later the girls find the only thing they have of value is between their legs.”

  “What about the local authorities?” asked Jasin. “Why are we involved?”

  “The relationship with the natives is our responsibility. The Prohibitions are intended to avoid conflict,” answered Beloit.

  “But no Prohibition has been broken here. A woman has been molested. There’s no technology involved, no weapons, no restricted travel, no sale of human artifacts or land issues.”

  “You’re right, if it were up to me I’d skip it, let this one alone, but this is the first instance of this level of violence since we arrived and it has everyone, especially your dad, on edge. From what little I’ve heard, some believe a native was involved. That would be a violation of the sixth. Anyway, Avram’s right about one thing, the quicker this incident is resolved, the better.”

  Jasin leaned over and picked up a dried branch of poppers and threw it into the fire. It caught instantly and burned brighter than the other twigs. They sat quietly watching. Jasin finally broke the silence. “Do you spend many nights on the trail?”

  “You get used to it…comes with the job. Just don’t get involved…” Beloit’s voice trailed off thoughtfully.

  “Involved?”

  “Relationships. You involved with anyone? I saw you last night with Hyland’s nurse.”

  “She’s the sister of someone I once knew.”

  “Pretty.”

  “Kinda tall, not really my type.”

  “Don’t get involved,” Beloit muttered under his breath. “Don’t get involved with any of them. They’re all whores.” Beloit yawned and laid his head back looking up at the thin sliver of Conboet. Finally he asked, “So how’d you learn to speak Sytonian?”

  “Avram pushed me hard when I was young. He thought it was important. That’s why he always had one of the natives around, like Sy Toberry. When I went to advanced studies in Panvera, the language courses were the easiest.”

  “You obviously have an ear for it. I can hardly make out a single word of their stupid tongue.” Beloit rose and took a few steps before peeing into the darkness.

  “Being able to speak their language is going to come in handy tomorrow,” Beloit said, returning and making himself comfortable. Within minutes he was asleep.

  Jasin built up the fire and leaned back against one of the supply bags. He stared at Beloit’s sleeping form. How was it possible to snore so loud and not wake yourself? At least the noise should scare off any wild animals that might have gotten a whiff of their meal.

  While he wasn’t sure of their exact role in the rape investigation, he understood how important it was to keep the peace with the natives. The Human colony’s survival depended upon it. When he had finished school, he was thrilled when his father suggested he help Beloit enforce the Prohibitions. He had grown up with a deep conviction that the Prohibitions were as important to their existence as air or water.

  Humans, especially those ship-born, resented the rules Avram had bound them to, but the ship-born were also the most likely to lapse and introduce some technology from the past. When the few hundred humans landed on Syton, they had technology and weapons a thousand years more advanced than the natives.

  Avram understood that knowledge and its offspring technology were powerful tools that could easily divide a society, or even be used as a weapon to control those that didn’t possess them. The natives and the shipborn both recognized that the inhabitable land in the gorge was too limited to attempt segregation so, in return for permission to settle, the Sytonian Council had insisted that humans abandon their technology and live as they did. Avram had been convinced that the natives were ready to die to enforce their demand and realized the slaughter would have been horrific. Humans would have had to kill tens of thousands of towan and severely maim the developing Sytonian civilization all so they could keep their lifestyle. It was ultimately a moral question. Where did Human rights end and the Sytonians’ begin? Even if war could have been avoided, were the technical conveniences of a few hundred humans worth creating a race of second-class individuals and altering the course of an entire planet’s culture?

  Jasin knew Avram was right to agree to the Sytonian Prohibitions. And he knew how important enforcing them was. It wasn’t a difficult choice for a morally advanced race to make. As sleep overcame him, Jasin was first filled with pride, and then admiration, not only for his father and Beloit, but also for the Sytonian Council of Seventeen, who had the foresight and moral compass to insist on the Prohibitions in the first place.

  When brightness returned they broke camp, and within an hour stood at the empty ferry landing on the bank of the Andoree River. To their left, the river eventually widened to become Lake Chook. If they followed the river to the right, they would travel beneath high cliffs for a stretch before coming to a group of small islands and the intersection with the Canyon River. Beyond that was the Great Lake. Today their thoughts were on Bistoun just across the narrows where the ferry, a crude raft of bundled reeds and grasses, bobbed in the river’s swell. It was tied to the shore with a thick rope of fiber robe. No one was aboard.

  Beloit tied the blaythons to a bush so they could easily be seen from the other shore, and made himself comfortable against some boulders. Jasin paced.

  “Relax, sit down,” Beloit suggested. “It’ll be a while. He won’t bother moving the ferry until it’s calmer. It’s too much work to fight the current.”

  “How long?”

  “Check the high water mark.” Beloit indicated with a lift of his head. “The water is still flowing in. Looks like maybe an hour.”

  “Can’t we wade across?” asked Jasin. “It looks like it might be shallow enough,”

  Beloit just looked up at him, shading the sun from his eyes with his open hand. Jasin realized how dumb the question was. Why build a ferry where you could simply walk across?

  “I’m just anxious,” He felt extremely stupid. “I think I’ll stretch my legs.”

  Beloit barely acknowledged his leaving.

  Jasin headed back up the trail they had just come down. As he rounded a slight bend, he raised his breathing scarf and began to jog, a slow comfortable pace. It felt good. He hadn’t run in nearly a week, since before leaving for Hyland’s funeral. At home he ran almost daily. It relieved stress and he loved the feeling of freedom and self-confidence it gave him. As a young boy he began running to relieve tension and discovered the adrenaline high that running in the dimness would bring, especially when there was barely enough light to see where he was going, when his feet would hardly touch the ground and the fear of falling, just barely in control, combined with exhilarating speed would leave him breathless.

  Now when he ran, there wasn’t that same intensity, but he still enjoyed it. He circled a small hill and sprinted along a winding path up the backside until he was at the top. The hill dropped off steeply towards the river creating a lookout over the ferry landing and to Bistoun beyond. Jasin sat on the edge to catch his breath and survey the town.

  Along the river were several empty boat slips, defined by short finger piers jutting into the muddy wat
er. A long flat barge, heavily laden with salted paddlefish, fantale, and dried gilia root lay secured against the shore down stream. Straight across the river, Jasin could see the raft still tied up at the opposite ferry landing. Just beyond the landing, across the frontage road and next to a ten meter tall tree was a three-story inn that he remembered from his previous visit. He assumed they would sleep there tonight. Jasin could see smoke rising from the cooking area behind. He wondered whether they still made deepfish stew. The memory of its unique sharp taste and the mellowness one felt afterward was hard to forget. It had been several days since he had a good meal and was famished. Right next door, between the inn and the boat construction yard was one of the two taverns in town. The larger one had rooms on the second floor rumored to rent by the hour.

  Jasin surveyed the roads leading to the riverbank. Where was the owner of the ferry? Surely the current wasn’t strong enough to delay much longer. He wasn’t sure who controlled the ferry these days; probably still a towan. Last time across, he remembered, it was a young towan, but you never could tell in Bistoun where fortunes and property changed hands frequently.

  The door of the small tavern next to a fish smoker opened and a young blond woman appeared carrying a bucket. She started across the frontage road. At first, Jasin hoped she might have operated the ferry, but it became obvious that she was much too petite to pole the raft across. She walked out on to one of the finger piers and emptied the garbage bucket into the river. He watched the bits of refuse gather around the piers. It was slack tide.

  With a shock, he realized that the raft was moving. He had been distracted and missed the arrival of the ferry operator. Jasin jumped to his feet and ran down the hill.

  It took less than five minutes for the raft to arrive. Operating it was an ancient towan who probably couldn’t remember his youth. He moved slowly and carefully. His legs were deformed from a severe case of muscle bulge, a common ailment among older towans that caused the muscles to contract into tight knots making it difficult to bend their upper knee joints or even move. With great effort, he threw a rope to Beloit, who immediately handed it to Jasin. He tied it to a post that had been wedged between rocks next to the landing. The towan made no effort to help as Beloit and Jasin moved their belongings and the blaythons aboard. Getting the animals to be still took great effort. Finally, they were calm enough for Jasin to handle them alone and Beloit went to pay for their passage.

  He handed the towan several small, clear, cut crystals from a leather pouch he dug from his traveling pack. The towan pointed at the animals with his main large finger that was also deformed with muscle bulge. Beloit nodded his head in agreement and counted out each of the four passengers, “One, two, three, four,” and then he turned and repeated the count for the crystals in the towan’s palm. The towan let out a low tone and again pointed at the animals. One of the scared blaythons was urinating. Its pungent scent filled the air as it splattered on Jasin’s feet. Jasin swore, and jumped out of the way, but he couldn’t go far.

  Beloit chuckled at Jasin’s dismay. The old towan’s expression didn’t change. He voiced another series of words, again in low tones and once more held out his hand. “Listen,” Beloit said with a note of aggravation, “Four of us, four clear crystals, that’s normal passage.”

  “He wants more because of the mess,” explained Jasin.

  “He wanted more even before the animal peed on his raft,” complained Beloit.

  “Maybe he knew it was coming.” Jasin shrugged. “Looks like he’s been at this a long time. Probably not the first time some scared animal made a mess of his raft.”

  Beloit took out his pouch and found a tiny, round, blue crystal, and added it to the four clear ones. This satisfied the towan, who stood with difficulty. Jasin retrieved the binding rope and pushed the raft away from the shore. With considerable effort, the towan poled the raft slowly towards the opposite shore. Jasin turned and looked back at the hill he’d run up. He felt as if he was leaving his familiar world behind, crossing an imaginary line that separated Human from Sytonian.

  The river was a natural boundary. Most humans lived on the cold side of the river, in the higher towns and villages where the alien air was thinner, cooler, and easier to breathe. The Sytonians, however, found the warmer, lower altitudes more comfortable. Of course, there were a few scattered exceptions. Bistoun was an anomaly. It was the coldest town that the Sytonians regularly inhabited, but the warmest where humans could feel comfortable year round. This made it unique — humans and natives living and working together. Jasin knew he could help Beloit here.

  On the opposite shore, Beloit and Jasin left the crippled towan and walked across the frontage road to the large inn. Jasin took the two blaythons around back to the stables while Beloit went to see about rooms. Rounding the corner of the inn, Jasin was assaulted by the stench of the large inn’s open sewage system. Breathing through his mouth, he hastened to the stable, tugging the blaythons behind him. He located two empty stalls and left the animals with a good portion of sungrass. The inn had a back entrance and Jasin, wanting to vacate the stinking yard, rushed to take advantage of it. He entered the kitchen breathing heavily. Large boiling pots of deepfish filled the air with their unique tang, not spicy, not really a true scent at all, but a sharp sensation in the back of the nose like a smell.

  Suddenly he stopped. At first he thought the kitchen had been deserted, but there, huddled together against a greasy, soot covered wall, were five diminutive towas—Sytonian females—standing absolutely motionless. The dark, naked, identical forms stared at him, unblinking. He had obviously scared them. They made such a dramatic counterpoint to the large towan or Sytonian male. He returned their gaze. Suddenly he felt warm. Blood ran to his cheeks, and he became dizzy. Turning to leave, he crashed to the floor, conscious, but unable to move a muscle.

  Sy Fask

  With caution, the towas moved to inspect the body sprawled on their kitchen floor. One of them leaned over, close to Jasin’s face, and sniffed his breath, evidently familiar with other humans flat on their backs. Another began roughly prodding Jasin in the ribs with her foot. Completely paralyzed, all Jasin could do was stare up at their naked bodies. An interesting view, he thought, if he weren’t so confused and helpless.

  Although he was sure he was still being kicked, there was no sensation of pain. Panic began to creep in. After a moment or two, several towa took hold of each of his arms and dragged him into the main entry area of the inn and then disappeared like a whiff of smoke back into the kitchen. Jasin could hear Beloit talking to someone. Muffled unintelligible conversation, then silence, footsteps, until Beloit and a frail, spindly young boy towered above him.

  “Damn, you all right?” asked the boy. The raw exclamation felt out of place coming from this frail boy who couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

  Jasin couldn’t answer. Numbness had spread throughout his body. He was having trouble breathing.

  “He’ll come 'round soon,” declared the boy. “Musta wandered into the kitchen. They boiling deepfish for tonight. Smell it?”

  Beloit raised his head and sniffed. “Let’s move him farther away.”

  The boy nodded. With a grunt, Beloit lifted Jasin, carried him out the front door, and deposited him on the ground.

  “It’s great eatin’…deepfish I mean, once they done adding everythin’,” the boy continued to explain, “but you got to boil them out. You know, boil out the toxes…the poison stuff. Anyway, one, two fish dancing in a pot ain’t nothin’, but a big kettle like that…not a good place for us no way.”

  After a few minutes, Jasin began to feel better; he could move his arms and legs. He tried to speak but only a garbled mumble escaped. “No talkin’ fer awhile. If you do, you’d soundin’ stupid,” said the boy.

  Beloit cracked a grin and quickly looked away. Jasin smiled to himself. If Avram heard this boy’s speech he’d be upset. One of his father’s regrets since settling on Syton had been the falli
ng level of general education among the human population. The rapid decline in the ability to read, and write, and just speak well was striking.

  “So, young man,” said Beloit digging into his leather bag and extracting a small pink meita, “We want to thank you for your help. Please see that our blaythons have plenty of water and feed during their stay at your stables.” Beloit gave him the tiny pill Humans traded containing the chemicals that saturated their breathing scarves.

  “Ya sir! Certain I would sir but…” he held his palm open. Even in his little hand the meita looked miniscule.

  “Don’t be greedy boy,” Beloit scolded. “There’ll be more if the animals are well cared for.”

  The young boy quickly closed his hand. “Don’t blame a business man fer askin’. Wouldn’t be right didn’t try, heh? Anything you need here, I’m your man. Anything.” He turned to go and started for the stables.

  “Well, there is one more thing…” Beloit said. The frail boy swirled around anxiously. “What’s your name?”

  “My name? Call me Samson. Sami is my real name. No one calls me that anymore.”

  “Well Samson, I have a friend who’s more than a little fond of good keetah. I wouldn’t imagine that a young boy like you would know where I could pick some up. I’m only interested in the best.”

  “Best’s not cheap,” said Samson.

  Beloit reached into his little pouch and pulled out a large red meita and held it up so the boy could see. “Think this might cover it?”

  “Would rather have crystal. Keetah is towan trade. Only humans care ‘bout meitas.”

  Beloit dug out a large blue crystal. Samson reached out to take it, but Beloit pulled it back. “Of course, I would have to see it. We’ll be back tonight. Think you can find what I’m looking for? We only want the highest quality.”

  “Told you, I’m your man.”

  Beloit turned to Jasin as the young boy headed off to the stables. “Do you feel well enough to try walking?”

  “Think so.” Jasin mumbled, attempting to stand. Beloit put a hand around his waist to keep him upright. Jasin’s hair was full of grease and dirt from lying on the kitchen floor and again on the ground. His side was aching from being kicked and he could feel a bump over his right ear where he had hit the floor. He smelled from two days on the trail and was a mess. It seemed like a long time since his cold dip in Lake Chook.

  “Beloit…can you get my pack and help me get over to the bathhouse?” His speech was becoming clearer.

  “And how would you know about the bathhouse?” Beloit asked with a smile.

  Jasin managed a weak grin. “Bathhouse, then maybe a shave and haircut next door with one of the ladies. We all deserve a little pampering now and again.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  Beloit retrieved Jasin’s pack, and together they slowly walked across the main street leading from the river to the bathhouse. Before separating, they arranged to meet for dinner at the tavern next to the inn. Neither of them felt like deepfish stew tonight.

  Jasin opened the door to the bathhouse and entered a small antechamber with a rectangular table jutting out from one side. The air was heavy with warm moisture from tubs hidden behind a drape hung across a doorway in the back wall. He swung his pack onto the table and steadied himself.

  “Anyone here?” he asked loudly. His voice broke up slightly, but he was beginning to feel normal again. He heard muffled voices from behind the drape. It was drawn aside and an older woman entered. Jasin thought she looked at least sixty.

  “Would you mind?” she lifted Jasin’s filthy pack from the table and handed it back to him. It left a ring of dirt on the table. She ignored the dirt and looked Jasin over.

  “Sorry,” Jasin apologized. “Do you have any hot water left?”

  The old lady continued staring.

  “Listen, I said I was sorry.” Jasin began to wipe the table down. “But I was hoping to wash up.”

  “Are you Julian’s kid?” she asked.

  Jasin stared back, locking his eyes on hers. He nodded.

  “You need a shave. Want one with the bath?”

  “Have we met before?” he asked.

  She shook her head and waved off the question. “It’s the thick black hair and eyes; same as your mom’s. Listen…I’ll throw in the shave for nothing. I owe her.”

  “Just the bath for now, but thanks. I’ll see one of the ladies next door for the shave.” Jasin hoped she’d understand and wouldn’t pursue it. He didn’t have a very respectful reason to refuse her generous offer except…

  The old woman, trying to hide a tiny smirk, was amused. “I would be happy to help you out myself…” she paused for the effect. Jasin felt the blood rush to his face. Finally, her smile escaped. “I know the girls next door very well, but only one is as good with a blade in her hand, as without one. My treat, I’ll have her come over.” Then abruptly, “Well, let’s say we get you cleaned up.”

  Within minutes, Jasin was soaking in a tub of hot, soapy water. He washed his hair and then closing his eyes, let the dirt, and aches from the towa’s kicking dissolve away. The warm water revived his numb muscles, removing the last effects of the fish toxins. He drifted, semi-conscious and totally relaxed, listening to vague snippets of sound and unintelligible voices until he was asleep.

  With a start, Jasin realized he wasn’t alone. He sat up, instantly awake. At the foot of the tub stood a young woman who looked up from the bath water to meet Jasin’s gaze. Her oval face was framed by long black hair falling over her shoulders; a simple thin white sheath covered her nubile form.

  “You were sleeping, I’m sorry.” Her beautiful round eyes caught a glint of light and sparkled. He leaned slightly to get a better look around the tub. She held up a bar of soap in one hand, and a blade in the other. She walked gracefully towards him. Light shone through the gauzy fabric of her dress revealing her sensual curves. “I’m from next door. I was told you wanted a shave.” She lifted the blade as if to remind him why she was there.

  It was difficult for Jasin not to stare at the girl; she was simply stunning, but her razor competed for his attention. It was a most unusual shade of dark greenish-blue—unlike any knife blade he’d ever seen…for that matter, unlike any metal he’d ever seen. “Do you know what you’re doing with that?” he asked, indicating the razor.

  “I’ve never had any complaints.”

  Jasin’s gaze traveled the length of her body. “I’ll wager that’s true.” But his eyes were drawn back to the blade. He held out his hand, “It’s most unusual. Do you mind?”

  “Be very careful,” she replied laying it in his palm, “It’s awfully sharp.”

  The blade lay like a feather in his hand. It was practically weightless. He thought it must be paper-thin, but when he held it between his fingertips he realized it was actually as thick as a regular knife blade, just incredibly light. He brought it closer for a better look. There were no manufacturing marks, no sign that it had ever been hammered or filed, and yet, the edge appeared perfectly smooth. Very carefully he checked for sharpness with his thumb.

  “Oh!” he flinched and dropped the blade, which struck the side of the metal tub before hitting the floor. A drop of blood oozed out of Jasin’s thumb. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize…”

  “You dumb animal!” exclaimed the girl, kneeling to pick up her razor. “I told you to be careful. I just got this blade and it cost me plenty.” She lifted the blade. They could both see that the razor’s sharp edge had a nick in it where it had hit the tub. She shook it at Jasin. “You owe me.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Jasin tried to calm her. In fact, it actually didn’t look as bad as he thought at first glance. Both Jasin and the girl stared at the blade. The nick was slowly disappearing.

  Astonished, the girl handed it to Jasin. He too had trouble believing what he had witnessed. The blade was perfect now. The strange material had repaired itself, reforming a perfect edge. />
  “He just said it wouldn’t need to be sharpened,” the girl whispered.

  “Who?” Jasin’s professional curiosity was aroused. This was advanced technology and prohibited by the Second Prohibition. It might also be considered a weapon, a violation of the Fourth.

  The young lady shook her head. A few strands of black silky hair fell over an eye. She brushed it away, but it immediately returned, falling seductively across her face. “A gift from a private client,” she said evasively. “He enjoyed my services. Said he got it from a trader and thought I could use it.”

  “A gift? I thought you said it cost you plenty. Who was it?” Jasin asked again.

  “Why do you care?”

  “He could be in trouble. You could be in trouble for having it.”

  “It’s just a razor. I have many.”

  Jasin raised the blade. “Like this?”

  “No,” she said softly, then reached out and took it back. “Listen, do you want the shave? I’m not paid to answer stupid questions.”

  The water had turned cold. They had been distracted and Jasin’s mood had changed. “Perhaps another time,” Jasin said. “Are you working tomorrow?”

  “I work everyday. Just ask for Tabiya.” She moved closer and smiled. “I could come to your room tonight…I’m not expensive.” Again her hair fell sensually across her cheek.

  Jasin reached out and gently moved the errant strands of hair behind her ear, then let his hand run lightly along her smooth skin. Her offer was very tempting, but she was awfully young, maybe seventeen at most. He began to feel guilty even touching her face. She tilted her head, pressing her soft cheek into his hand.

  “Tabiya, you’re too young, and too beautiful, to be selling yourself to anyone with a crystal. Don’t waste your life in a bathhouse. You should still be in school, having fun with decent young men your own age. Get out of here before you get yourself in trouble. And don’t show that blade to anyone.”

  Jasin’s admonishment confused her. “What’s your name?” she asked softly.

  “Jasin Elstrada.”

  “Well Jasin, shave or not, I’m still charging the house my fee.” As she turned away, her long silky hair brushed his face, leaving a faint floral scent behind. He climbed out of the cold water, dressed in the least dirty of his clothes and left the bathhouse for the tavern.

  Beloit was pacing outside waiting for him. As soon as he saw Jasin, he hurried across the street. “You’re looking better,” he said. “No shave?”

  “Nah, just hungry. Don’t you want to eat?” asked Jasin.

  Beloit glanced over his shoulder and across the street. “Of course, but that’s the wrong tavern. The woman who was raped usually worked the other one. Let’s go.”

  At the intersection of the main street and the frontage road, they passed under the huge tree and continued past the potter’s shop. A dim glow from the river drew them to its edge. Beneath the surface, shining like a thousand stars, tiny one-celled plankton twinkled.

  Continuing along the river, they wove between broken, salt-encrusted barrels standing like dock sentinels for the preservation house that shared a wall with the tavern. Crossing the frontage road, they approached the bar. A fish smoker abutted the establishment’s other flank. Short stuttering phrases escaped open windows—a spirited conversation between natives.

  Jasin and Beloit entered. A lingering smoky aroma confirmed their suspicion that this had once been part of the smoker. They carefully surveyed the room. Several small groups of towans stood eating or talking. A few tables, looking extremely short, had been provided for human guests, of which there were quite a number. Jasin was ravenous and didn’t waste a second in procuring two huge portions of the day’s fare — a raw minced tuber the natives called fantale and salted fish. They ate native style, without utensils, but sat instead of standing. The fish made them extremely thirsty and they quickly drank several mugs of the local beverage before realizing how really dreadful it tasted. They sat back, fully sated, and watched a young towan and his mentor. From the lack of cross-hatching on the elder’s maturity mark, this would have to be one of his first Initiates. They were just starting their journey up the gorge into the colder climates.

  When a young Sytonian male came of age, he chose an older, respected towan, who would accompany him and pass on the necessary skills needed to live alone, entirely off the land, for at least a week. The Initiate is required to steal a young male cylith pup from its protective pack and bring it home to train as a guardian pet. If the Initiate is successful, a long horizontal mark is burned across his chest and his mentor receives a short vertical one.

  Jasin and Beloit were among the last to eat and it appeared the proprietor didn’t expect any further guests. He was now relaxing, finishing his own meal.

  “I was told his name is Sy Fask,” said Beloit, indicating their host. A few days ago, when I tried to question him, he wouldn’t speak. I don’t think he understands us, or wants to understand us, but it’s important to find out what he knows.”

  Jasin waited a few more minutes until the towan had finished eating before approaching. Beloit followed. A few of the others watched expecting an unusual confrontation.

  “Respectfully, sir,” began Jasin in his best Sytonian, “you are Sy Fask?” As in his human language, it was important that the melody of the voice intoned a question and not a statement. The order of the words had less meaning than the lilt, and the stuttering came from the expression of past, future, or present tense.

  The towan looked down at Jasin. There was at least a half-meter difference in their height. Looking a towan directly in the eyes was a sign of equals on Syton. Those of lesser stature, their young and their females looked up. It was a problem for the average human, especially Jasin who hadn’t inherited his father’s height; just one of the reasons Avram had made such a good negotiator and diplomat. The towan slowly looked around the room, making note of who was there. “I am Sy Fask,” he acknowledged. “Who are you and why do you come here?”

  Jasin turned to Beloit and nodded. Then he answered, “I am Jasin, son of Avram Elstrada, and this is Beloit McMaster.” He had decided to trade on any recognition of his father’s name, but there was no sign that Sy Fask had ever heard of Avram. “The food here is good. We were very hungry. Thank you.”

  “Many humans eat here,” said Sy Fask, indicating the occupants of the other tables. Two flirtatious young ladies, looking to earn a few meitas or crystals before the night was over, had joined the other men.

  Jasin would have liked to invite the large towan to sit at a less conspicuous table to ask the next questions, but he knew that the request to lower one’s height might be taken wrong. Instead, he turned and indicated a quieter corner of the room far away from the others. “Respectfully, sir,” he said, lowering his head further. The towan straightened, extended his exceptionally long arm, and repeated the gesture to move to the corner. He made it appear as if he were requesting it and Jasin quickly honored him by nodding his head and saying, “Thank you, thank you,” loudly enough for others to hear and followed him to the corner. Beloit wasn’t far behind.

  “Sir, a human female was hurt,” began Jasin. “You know her?” Again, he was careful of the tone. But then he added, “She was here often.” This time he made it obvious that he wasn’t asking a question.

  “This is sad,” The towan replied. Jasin waited for him to admit knowing the woman, but the towan said nothing more.

  “Yes, this is sad,” Jasin repeated and waited again. Finally, “She was your friend?”

  “No, not my friend.”

  Jasin felt a small sense of victory. At least Sy Fask had admitted the woman existed. “She had friends here?”

  “Many human friends. Many women find friends here.” He glanced over to the table of men who were laughing and talking to the two ladies. One of the women was in her mid-thirties, pleasant looking, but tired and disheveled. It looked like she had already entertained too many this even
ing; the other was a scrawny blond, twenty, and extremely fidgety, continually glancing over towards Jasin. He was sure she was the young girl he saw from across the river.

  “The last time you saw her, do you remember who her friend was?” asked Jasin.

  “No,” Fask answered.

  “No?”

  When Sy Fask didn’t answer, Jasin turned to Beloit, “He says she had lots of human friends but won’t tell me who she was with that night.”

  “Ask him if she had any native friends,” said Beloit.

  Jasin was surprised at this change of direction. Weren’t they looking for a human? Jasin feared that the question would be insulting, but asked anyway, “Respectfully sir, did she have any towan friends?”

  “No,” Fask repeated.

  Perhaps the concept of friend is standing in our way, thought Jasin. “Very respectfully sir, did any towan talk to her that night?”

  He was right. After a brief hesitation Fask answered, “Yes, Sy Loeton talked to her. He liked to talk and look at her. He talked a long time that night. Sy Loeton talks to many women.”

  Beloit heard the name and bolted upright in his chair. “Is he saying Sy Loeton? Ask him again, Sy Loeton?”

  Jasin didn’t have to ask again. The towan stood tall at the mention of the name. “Sy Loeton comes here. Sy Loeton eats my food.”

  “Who is this Sy Loeton?” Jasin asked Beloit.

  “Ask him if they left together.”

  “Sy Fask sir, Sy Loeton knows good food. Did Sy Loeton leave with the girl the night she was hurt?”

  “Sy Loeton was not a friend. The girl had many friends. Not Sy Loeton; he has many towas.” Fask replied.

  Jasin knew there were several words the natives used for friend. The form he had been using evidently had a sexual connotation. “Did she want to be a friend for Loeton?” Jasin could hardly believe he was asking this absurd question. The idea that a woman would want to have a sexual relationship with a native was unthinkable.

  But the towan considered this idea thoughtfully. “Sy Loeton liked this girl. Sy Loeton likes many human women. He likes to look and talk. He likes to touch. This woman was tall and liked Sy Loeton. This female had many friends...I do not know.” Sy Fask decided the conversation had ended. He turned and walked away, but after he had taken a few long strides he turned and proclaimed quite loudly, “It is sad.” Several towans looked up. The table of humans also glanced over. The blond girl stared at them.

  “Well? Did she leave with Loeton?” asked Beloit.

  “Who in the world is this Loeton?” Jasin exclaimed.

  “Did she leave with him?”

  “He didn’t say. Now who is he?”

  Beloit looked around. They were still being watched by a few. “Not here. Let’s go back to the inn. We’ll talk on the way.” They paid and left quickly, but before they had a chance to exchange a single word, the younger woman burst from the tavern and ran up to them.

  “Who are you?” she shouted angrily. “What do you want with Fask?”

  “Why is that of interest to a tavern whore?” Beloit asked.

  “Just is. What did Fask tell you?” she asked.

  Jasin thought Beloit’s reaction a bit strange. Here was obviously someone they needed to talk to. “We’re investigating the death of another woman who worked there. Know anything about it?”

  “She’s not dead!” the young woman lashed back. “Not dead,” she repeated under her breath as if to convince herself.

  “You know her?” asked Jasin.

  “You’re some idiots. Don’t even know if she’s alive or dead. Don’t even know who or what to ask. You’re lucky Fask even talked to you. I can’t believe you just walked in and started asking questions about that alien pervert. Loeton was born here, you morons, spends a lot of time here. He’s a local big shot. They don’t care what he did to her.”

  “Are you sure she’s alive?” Beloit asked.

  “Of course I’m sure. I been staying with her since.”

  “She’s still alive?” asked Beloit. “Did she say anything? Why do you say it was Loeton?”

  “Who else could it be? I seen them, everyone in the tavern seen them together that night. He was attentive, if you know what I mean. She liked that; she liked all kinds. I mean if you’re in the business you have to pretend to like it all…even girls, but doing girls ain’t really bad, I don’t think so anyway…not like them.” She hesitated, searching their eyes for a reaction that never came. “Anyway, I didn’t believe it when I first heard she might be fooling with those monsters. None of us are that stupid.”

  “Then it could have been another native,” suggested Jasin.

  The girl shrugged. “Didn’t see no one else. She left. He left.”

  “Has she spoken?” Beloit asked again.

  The girl looked at Beloit with disgust. “She can’t say a blasted thing, you fool. Her face is all busted. I sewed her up best I could, but she’s still bleeding. She can’t…I don’t…I don’t think she’s going to make it.” With this last outburst, she lost all her bravado and strength. Tears started to flow.

  “What’s your name?” Jasin asked, taking a softer approach.

  “Cherri,” the girl replied.

  “I’m sorry, Cherri, but I have to ask,” Jasin began, “if no one actually saw Loeton do it, and she’s never been able to accuse him…isn’t it possible, just consider it for a moment, couldn’t it have been a human?”

  The girl looked over to Beloit for any support he might give. Finding none, she turned to Jasin and whispered, “You’d have to see her.”

  It didn’t take long to gather their belongings and the blaythons from the inn, but when Samson learned of their plans to leave with Cherri to see the injured woman, he wouldn’t let them go until he had completed his keetah sale. Within seconds of finishing with Samson, they left the inn and were heading out through the center of town. They passed along the outlying livestock yards where the natives raised their styke and traveled into the surrounding countryside. Unlike the uneven terrain on the cold side of the river, this land was fairly flat with an occasional dry riverbed to add interest.

  “Beloit, I wanted to ask you something. I saw something in town…Do you know of any material or technology that could mend itself?” asked Jasin.

  “Mend itself? What did you see?”

  “A blade, a greenish-blue razor.”

  “What do you mean mend itself?” Beloit cocked his head, truly confused.

  “Well, it just sort of repaired itself.”

  “You know it’s against the Prohibitions for a human to own a weapon.”

  “Of course. But did we ever have such technology?”

  “Never saw anything like that…probably from Cernai.” Beloit said, referring to the small human village. Jasin recalled the many times they had traced the origin of some new toy back there, but he wasn’t sure Beloit was right this time.

  Slightly more than an hour had passed when they arrived at a cluster of dwellings huddled around a stone well. These homes, Jasin counted six, were near the border of the Kull, Syton’s cold desert, which the fifth Prohibition declared off limits to humans. Through the windows, Jasin could see candles burning and movement within all but one of the homes. They tied up the animals outside the deserted one. An unlit lantern hung from a cornice of the broken down porch. Stepping carefully to avoid a rotten board, Beloit lit the lantern. They moved inside.

  Foul air, and dread, overwhelmed them. From the dim, flickering light, they could make out a crude table and two straw mattresses next to each other on the dirt floor. Neither bed looked occupied, but as they walked forward, the lantern began to illuminate a crumpled form covered in a pile of rough blankets and clothes. Bloody sewing needles and bits of thread lay on the floor near by.

  “Kait...it’s Cherri,” said the young girl softy as she knelt down. Beloit brought the light closer. Cherri reached out and pulled the blankets back, then gently cleared a lock of hair from her
friend’s face, caressing her cheek. With a gasp, she drew her hand away and fell back onto her own mattress. The body was cold and gray. Cherri curled up, hugged her thin blanket, and rolled over, turning her back to them. She began to shake. Jasin, worried that she might be going into shock, looked around vainly to find something else to keep her warm.

  “It looks like Cherri used most of what they had to cover her,” observed Beloit, nodding towards the dead girl. There were several different blankets and jackets draped over the body. Beloit took a ratty blanket and recoiled as tiny bugs dropped from its folds. He shook out the vermin before laying the blanket over the trembling young girl. Jasin took the lantern and turned his attention to the lifeless form, now almost completely uncovered.

  She had been a tall woman, thirties, he thought, certainly not older than forty. He lifted the light and held it close to the bruised face. Clearly her jaw had been broken, and the blond hair on one side of her head was matted and crusted with dried blood, indicating a massive blow that may have cracked her skull. The blood from her head had flowed down her neck and stained the collar of her blouse before seeping into the straw mattress under her shoulders. With some hesitation, Jasin tenderly lifted the last of her bed sheets; her naked lower torso lay revealed in a pool of congealed blood that spread beyond her wide hips. A thin shallow cut ran straight down from her neck, between her breasts, and over her stomach where it crossed another deeper horizontal slash that had been crudely sutured in her lower abdomen. Jasin gasped. The woman’s vulva seemed ripped apart, exposing a gash of raw meat. Stunned, he momentarily averted his eyes. Beloit, standing a few steps away was completely transfixed. Such mutilation was impossible to imagine, but Jasin forced himself to complete the gruesome examination. What appeared to be pieces of her shredded, prolapsed vagina hung inside out between her scraped and deeply gouged thighs. He had seen more than enough and quickly replaced the few bed coverings before retreating outside to compose himself. Beloit joined him.

  “I’m amazed the girl survived long enough to make it back here,” Jasin whispered.

  Beloit nodded. “I’m going to find a neighbor to take care of Cherri. Are you going to be all right?”

  Jasin looked vacantly at Beloit, his eyes wide and moist. Beloit placed a hand on his shoulder. Jasin turned away, suddenly becoming aware of his own labored breathing. He took deep breaths through his scarf as if to cleanse himself of the hideous image, an image that would haunt him over the next four days while they travelled home.

  Nova Gaia

  “Damn,” Avram swore under his breath. With care, he swept finely ground keetah off the stone table into his cup. Wasting even the smallest amount of such quality felt like a crime. It promised a strong brew, he mused, but why bother at all if it wasn’t potent. He poured the last of the boiling water over the rusty powder. With a spoon, he coaxed it into solution. This would be his third cup of the morning. He smiled at the indulgence. Seanne Sy had finally learned how he enjoyed his keetah, but the towa always disappeared with the precious powder after his first cup. No matter, now that Sy Toberry had claimed her, he could refill as many times as he liked. Avram leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes while his cup of keetah cooled. The tradition of intentionally burning oneself, even if the pain was fleeting, escaped him.

  He yawned. It was early into the brightness and he should have been well rested, but sleep had once again escaped him. Churning over minor issues that in years past would not have warranted a second thought, he wasted the darkness tossing about without relief. Useless, that’s what he’d become. Old age was punishment for an exciting youth. Better to burn out young than live to deliver eulogies for dear friends, and he had been doing more of that than he cared to think about. Over the last few years of his declining influence, he had given advice on the lower school curriculum; asked to settle a dispute between some ship-born, animal phobic parents and their teenagers who wanted to raise a cylith pup; and then there was the request to speak at the opening of Rahfi’s new restaurant. What other challenging and weighty subjects would he face before someone stood over his dead body, scratching their head wondering what this bag of bones had ever done to deserve their passing respect? He sipped the keetah, relishing the heightened awareness and adrenaline it brought to his aged body. The drug provided a poor substitute for purpose.

  Warming his arthritic hands around the steaming cup, he walked over to the window of the study and peeked between the drapes. Jasin and his friend, Mas Baurchart, were stretching. Mas was a tall handsome young man, ship-born, just a few years older than Jasin, and blessed with a strong body and other natural gifts. With his long blond hair and easy-going nature, he effortlessly attracted the attention of eligible young ladies, causing Jasin constant aggravation. And even though Jasin ran often, Avram knew that Mas could easily keep pace and, without much effort, surpass his son in any footrace, or any other athletic endeavor for that matter. Yet Avram knew Jasin continually felt the need to challenge his friend, to push himself regardless of the inevitable outcome.

  Avram watched as the young men raised their breathing scarves and jogged off, Jasin’s shorter, measured strides keeping pace with Mas’s long, easy ones. They disappeared from sight just as the sun breached the canyon rim. Instinctively, he pulled the heavy drapes together, sealing himself off, his ship-born mind unable to accept that Syton’s atmosphere could protect him from the dangerous rays.

  He was fortunate to have been given this beautiful two-story home, huge by any measure and one of the few private residences to have a second story and mineral windows. Gardens, now overgrown and hidden beneath years of neglect, surrounded the house in stark contrast to the broad open courtyard. Beyond the gardens were several cabins; each larger than the average straw bale and stucco homes the humans had been given. All the cabins sat empty, except one that Jasin had moved into upon returning from Advanced Studies in Panvera.

  Avram often wondered who had owned this magnificent compound before they arrived, or for that matter any of residences that the humans were given to occupy. Where were those that lived here before? He had never gotten a clear answer about that from any Sytonian. Perhaps he’d ask Sy Lang when he arrived. The towan was the closest thing he had to a native friend. Sy Lang would tell him…if they were still speaking after their morning meeting.

  Friend or not, this would be a difficult discussion. The Council of Seventeen needed to know about the possible trouble brewing in Bistoun. But since it could involve Sy Loeton, also a Council member, diplomacy would be the order of the day. He still wasn’t convinced that a towan could be responsible for the gruesome acts Jasin and Beloit had described, but the tension from the incident was real enough to cause concern.

  This, at least, was a problem worthy of his experience and talents.

  Avram took a cautious sip. The keetah was strong and cool enough not to burn and he quickly emptied the cup. The drug produced a soothing wave, relaxing him, yet helping to focus his mind. He refilled the small water pot and set it over the fire.

  “Hello, Avram,” said Sy Lang, entering the study. Without looking, no one else would have suspected a native. The towan’s grasp of their language was flawless. Lang was at least a hand taller than Avram’s two meters. He carried a large rolled parchment.

  “Honorable sir,” Avram replied. “Which shall it be, my humble Human language or the beautiful tongue of your planet? Perhaps today we should speak Native,” suggested Avram. He switched tongues, “Thank you for making the trip.” Avram’s linguistic skills were the reason he had been chosen to negotiate the original settlement agreement.

  “I’ve brought a small gift to add to your collection.” Sy Lang gave Avram the parchment. “It’s the Kaysop mountain range.” Avram moved the bag of keetah and his cup from the table and unrolled the topographic map detailing in elegant and precise hand the natural barrier between the human towns and the lower, warmer Sytonian cities of Fistulee and T’Matte.

  “It’s wonderful.
Please thank the artist when you return to T’Matte.”

  “This mapmaker lives in Bistoun. I told him I needed a special map for a special friend.”

  Avram hesitated. He had assumed Sy Lang had traveled by ship from the port of Fistulee to Soto, and then directly to Nova Gaia through the farmland. “Then you passed through Bistoun?”

  Lang leaned over and indicated the pass though the Kaysop mountain range and the road to Bistoun that he’d taken. “It’s quite easy, Avram. Good safe roads the entire way.”

  “Then you’re aware of the incident in Bistoun.”

  Lang didn’t answer. He looked away from the table and walked over towards Avram’s collection of maps. “Yes, it is why I traveled that way.” He picked up an ancient book that lay on a shelf above the other maps and opened it with his large center finger. The brown dry edges of the pages flaked off. “Curious.”

  “Please be careful. It’s one of the only items of its kind that survived the voyage aboard Tanis. It was once a very popular book of ancient religious myths printed on our home planet nearly a thousand years ago.” Avram paused, thinking of Hyland. “A good friend gave it to me when we settled here…but now, on this other matter…we have to find a way to keep the peace. Many humans believe the woman was killed by a towan. I have my doubts, but others believe it was Sy Loeton. He has never liked the thought of humans settling on Syton. We must find out the truth. If it was Sy Loeton…I think it would be an important matter for the Council of Seventeen to consider. Humans must see that justice is done, that a native can’t kill or hurt one of us and not be punished.”

  “And why is that?” Sy Lang continued to move around the room. When he spied the pot of steaming water, he turned angrily. “Avram, I’ve told you before. You mustn’t continue using keetah everyday. It is for special ceremonies. It isn’t good for your heart.”

  “Sy Lang, my friend, let’s not be distracted. The peace you and I have nurtured between our races is threatened. That is why violence should not be tolerated…What did you learn in Bistoun?”

  “It is not a secret. Sy Loeton never wanted humans to settle here. Nor is it a secret that your human females fascinate him. He is quite odd.”

  “My friend, Beloit McMaster, has been asking other towans about Sy Loeton. They say he is quite…physical, that he has many wives, some of them from killing his enemies and seizing their towas. He is always looking for more. Many are afraid of Sy Loeton. McMaster believes that he is capable of violence.”

  “All that is true,” agreed Sy Lang, “but the act of taking a wife widowed by violence or by accident is honorable. It is an important tradition and you shouldn’t disparage him for that. There is no denying, however, that Sy Loeton is different. He acts quickly with surprising energy when angered. You humans have a word for it.”

  “Temper, he has a bad temper.”

  “Yes, a bad temper. But it is unlikely that he has committed this attack.” Sy Lang leaned back on his middle leg. A long finger relieved an itch along his puffed out food sacks.

  “But, if he is guilty, will the Council act to punish him?” Avram asked.

  “Punish? No. We can only dismiss him from the Council of Seventeen. Only those highly respected can serve on the Council, but there are no other laws covering the interaction of our two races, other than the Prohibitions that you must follow.”

  “Perhaps that was an oversight.”

  “My friend, you weren’t in a position to demand anything then…nor are you now. Besides, there isn’t any proof of his guilt.”

  Avram lowered his head in thought. “If there was?”

  “Loeton might be removed from the Council; his respect would be certainly diminished. He would be disgraced.”

  “If Sy Loeton hurt a Sytonian and they died, what would be the punishment?”

  “Towa or towan?”

  “It matters?”

  “Of course! If it is his towa, nothing. If someone else’s towa, he would have to replace her. If he killed another towan, death.”

  “You understand, our human females have the same rights as our males.”

  “I have always thought that odd, but the rights you speak of refer to your laws—not ours.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  Sy Lang turned abruptly and confronted his friend. “Why must you be so provocative? You have no idea how destructive your ideas could be to our society. Be careful where you speak of such things.”

  “But if I can prove to you that Sy Loeton was guilty, would you help convince your Council to create a new Sytonian law protecting all humans from dishonorable acts by Sytonians? It would calm a lot of people and help keep the peace. I’m just talking about improving the relationship between our races.”

  “I would try, but I’m only one towan. It is unlikely that humans, especially your females, would be granted these rights. And just how do you intend to prove such a thing?”

  They could hear voices in the courtyard and Sy Lang walked over to the window, drawing back the heavy drapes to observe Sy Toberry in the process of greeting the returning runners. Sunlight streamed into the room. Avram backed away from the light. “I’m sorry, Avram.” Sy Lang pulled the drapes together.

  “I know it’s irrational, but I’ve never gotten used to it. Honestly, Sy Lang, I wasn’t convinced a towan was capable of it, but no one else was seen with her that night. And the wounds…well, a human female simply cannot withstand intimate contact with a towan without suffering just those types of wounds. Our women don’t develop the hardness as towas do.”

  Sy Lang shook his head and prepared to leave. “This entire episode is senseless. Please be careful how you pursue this, Avram. It is sad that the woman is dead, but you must remember, it is clearly forbidden by the Prohibitions for you to harm any Sytonian.” Sy Lang headed for the doorway.

  “Thank you for coming, and for the gift. I promise to be careful, but I fear the anger in Bistoun—”

  “It will subside if you allow it to. She was not an important human; only a woman who had no male in her life. Soon she will be forgotten.”

  Only a woman…soon forgotten…the words sickened Avram. Despondently, he watched Lang leave. The native may have spoken the truth, but it was immoral not to pursue her attackers—Sytonian or Human.

  Sy Lang continued into the courtyard and slowed to watch Sy Toberry conduct traditional towan physical training for Jasin and Mas, and Toberry’s own son, Sy Jelick. Concentration and focus were crucial or your opponent, who whirled, kicked, and swung in a tightly choreographed high-speed attack, would strike you. Mas seemed calm as he easily avoided the towan’s long arms and multi-jointed legs. Jasin, on the other hand, appeared unsure and hesitant. Several times he received a rough kick or barely escaped a swift punch from Sy Jelick, who completed the moves as if no thought were required. At a break, Sy Lang approached them.

  “You men are lucky to have Sy Toberry as a teacher. Many of us are proud to have been his Initiate.” He reached out and traced one of the hash marks on Toberry’s highly decorated chest.

  “Respectfully sir, may I speak to you in private?” Sy Lang asked in Sytonian. The two towans walked off to a far corner of the courtyard leaving Jasin and Mas to catch their breath. Even in the coolness of the Sytonian air, the boys’ shirts were drenched. Sy Jelick stood apart, neither included with his father and Sy Lang, nor able to understand the Human language Mas and Jasin spoke.

  “Even Council members come to learn from Toberry,” said Mas quietly.

  Jasin nodded. “Avram believes that Sy Toberry is one of the most respected natives on either side of the Andoree.”

  “He’s a spy for the council,” declared Mas.

  “Of course he is, but we’re not hiding anything. We prefer to think of him as a conduit— the communication is, in fact, two-way. Avram believes that it’s actually an advantage to have someone so well connected so close.”

  “He makes me uncomfortable. When he’s around, I have to think about everything
I say.”

  “It’s a good habit. We have to be careful.”

  “Why? You think we should be scared of them? I can’t worry every time I open my mouth or continually be concerned that someone is breaking some silly rule. Really, Jasin, you’ve got to loosen up, relax, and enjoy life a little more. We can’t live in a continuous state of fear.” Mas looked up towards the window of Avram’s study. “It’s like your father and sunlight. I couldn’t imagine hiding from it, but when I see you, it’s like you’re afraid to have fun, to expose yourself to risk, scared to lose control. You’re so cautious about everything.”

  Jasin didn’t know what to say. There was a lot of truth there, but Mas just didn’t understand what was at stake. Mas’s lack of fear, his dismissal of consequence was both his source of strength and his blind spot. Jasin searched for his father’s reassuring form in the window. His phobia was understandable. On board ship, Avram had avoided direct exposure to radiation his entire life. Jasin thought he saw the drapes move. Yes, Father was there, but it appeared he wasn’t watching them. He was looking out beyond the courtyard gate. Jasin turned to see what Avram was looking at. A solitary figure with a backpack trudged along the road towards them. Whoever it was looked tired.

  Following Jasin’s gaze, Mas said, “You’ve got company.” A few moments later, he smiled and added, “I think you should leave this to me.”

  Jasin bristled at his cockiness. “It’s Elizabeth Tournell,” he said, identifying the approaching figure. “Remember her brother, Michael, from Advanced Studies?”

  “Sure, but I don’t remember him having a sister…and I don’t think I’d forget her.” Mas stared appreciably at Elizabeth’s tall, athletic body. The towans hardly glanced at her as she entered the courtyard. Mas stepped forward to help with her backpack. Jasin, rooted to the ground, awkwardly gave her a nod. Elizabeth’s long auburn hair was tied up, exposing her long neck streaked with dirt and sweat from the road. For the first time, Jasin noticed the memorial mark below her left ear.

  “Thanks,” she rewarded Mas with a smile. Then she turned to Jasin. “I decided to see if Avram was serious about the job.”

  “He’s up in the study.” Jasin turned and indicated the section of the house. “But it’s really my mother you should meet. It looks like you’ve been on the road awhile.”

  “Couple of days.” Elizabeth surveyed the huge house. She’d never seen a home of this size.

  “Any problems?” Jasin asked.

  “No.” Then she looked over at Jasin’s lanky, blond friend and acknowledged him with a small nod of her head. “Hi, I’m Elizabeth.” Jasin completed the introductions including the towans.

  Elizabeth asked, “How many families live here?”

  “Actually, just Avram and my mother. I grew up here, but I’m in one of the back cabins now.”

  “What about them?” She indicated the towans.

  “No, just my folks. Sy Lang is visiting and Toberry has another home nearby. Let’s go inside and find my parents.”

  Jasin was happy to have an excuse to separate Elizabeth and Mas, and led her though the courtyard and entered the house. It was quiet and their footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness. “She sleeps later these days, but she should be up by now. I think Avram saw you, but I’ll make sure.”

  “Do you think I might have a chance to freshen up a bit before I meet your mother? It’s been a long dusty walk.” Jasin showed her an empty room and brought some water and a towel, then left to inform Avram.

  Elizabeth quickly washed, changed her dusty clothes, untied her hair and ran a brush through it. As she repacked, she heard faint music—possibly a flute, she thought— coming from another room nearby. She considered waiting for Jasin’s return, but the melody was enchanting. Hesitantly, she followed the music until she stood in the doorway of a huge, two-story room. Bright sunlight blasted through large multi-paned windows illuminating a petite musician she assumed was Jasin’s mother. Dwarfed by the imposing space, she played with practiced confidence. Abruptly, she stopped and turned to Elizabeth.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Then why intrude uninvited?” Julian Elstrada stood up and took a few steps towards her. She appeared to be about seventy years old. Her thinning hair was completely gray.

  Embarrassed, Elizabeth hesitated, frozen with doubt and insecurity. With effort she approached awkwardly. Julian needed to tilt her head back to look into Elizabeth’s eyes. Julian’s frailness did not extend to her penetrating eyes and through them Elizabeth could feel the lady’s strength and poise.

  “Please excuse me. Jasin kindly allowed me to freshen up and your music caught my attention. I’m Elizabeth Tournell. Avram told me you might be looking for a housekeeper or assistant?” Before Julian could answer, Jasin and Avram joined them.

  “Elizabeth, how wonderful! I’m so glad you took me seriously,” said Avram. “Juls, I thought without Seanne you might appreciate some help. Elizabeth worked for Hyland. You’ll remember her parents, Sidrah and Warren Tournell.”

  “Di Sidrah and Dai Warren, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Elizabeth. I used to enjoy your mother’s lectures on ancient earth history.”

  Elizabeth beamed at the respect and dignity Julian paid her parents. Her heart calmed. “I’m sorry to have intruded, but I heard you playing. It was wonderful.”

  “Have you heard many other musicians?” asked Julian, “Or perhaps, you play yourself?”

  Again, Elizabeth felt awkward and strangely challenged by Julian. It was just a simple question she told herself, but it felt like she was being tested. “I’m afraid not,” she answered softly.

  Julian finally smiled. “Well, if all goes well, I could teach you to play. There really isn’t that much to do around here, but I’m getting older and some of the simplest chores...well, I don’t believe in complaining. Come, I’ll show you around.”

  The tour of the mansion didn’t take as long as Elizabeth expected. Many of the rooms were uninhabited or empty. It appeared Avram and Julian spent most of their time in separate areas—she loved her sunlit open spaces, while he hid from the sun in his study or the cellar. Elizabeth also noticed they slept apart.

  “You can use this room,” Julian suggested, showing Elizabeth a room near the kitchen.

  Elizabeth nodded, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and entered the space—a storeroom with various crates and barrels dumped haphazardly just inside the entrance that blocked her view and access to the rest of the room. Disappointment must have shown on her face. They had passed several bedrooms she thought Julian might have offered instead. All of them were spacious and clean.

  “Is anything wrong?” asked Julian.

  “No, no…just, I want to thank you for giving me a chance. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day to settle in. Perhaps later you could prepare a light dinner before dimness?” Julian turned before Elizabeth could answer.

  “Of course,” Elizabeth replied to Julian’s retreating back.

  Although still early, she was tired. It had been a long couple of days on the trail. She thought about closing her eyes for a few hours, but there was nowhere she felt comfortable enough, certainly not in this mess. There wasn’t even a mattress, much less a bed here. She eyed the barrier of crates and barrels. Maybe there was someplace she could take a short nap on the other side of the room. She lifted one of the crates and realized why they hadn’t been moved before. Julian or a small towa would not have been able to manage the heavy boxes, nor was it the type of chore she thought Avram would have performed.

  After thirty minutes of backbreaking work, a narrow path had been cleared and Elizabeth squeezed through, gaining a complete view of the room. Her earlier disappointment was replaced by excitement as the potential of what she had been given revealed itself.

  Hidden behind the old crates was a space larger than the entire Wynosk home. There were real mineral windows, filthy, o
f course, from decades of neglect; a small table and reading chair; a built-in basin and a large tub that appeared to be tiled; and a raised platform holding the remains of a mattress that had become home to several small field diggers. Off to the side was a separate doorway and although it was difficult to see through the grimy windows, it apparently led to a small private garden.

  This neglected room was a treasure to be earned. Elizabeth smiled to herself; she was beginning to understand Julian. Tests, questions, and challenges—Julian was taking her measure, seeing what she was made of. What would Julian have learned giving her a clean bedroom?

  There was plenty of space to move the entire barricade of boxes and barrels to one side of the room and still leave more personal living space than she had ever had. Using the few hours she had before beginning dinner, Elizabeth managed to move most of them. A few of the larger ones needed to be unpacked, or perhaps she could get help moving them. Finally, she turned her attention to remnants of the mattress. It would be best to sweep the decayed straw and droppings directly outside. Elizabeth tried to open the door leading to the garden, but found it stuck or possibly locked. Rest would have to wait.

  Dinner was a simple affair, just Jasin and his parents. A variety of vegetables, mangled by the dullest knives Elizabeth had ever used, but enhanced by a few random seasonings became a passable soup. She sat alone in the kitchen eating her own meal and eavesdropped on the spirited conversation from the other room.

  “He must be punished,” Avram was saying. “A murder has been committed. There must be justice or the peace between us will eventually crumble. It’s just a matter of time. Sy Lang said he’d help, if we could prove it was Loeton, but without proof, he and the Council would just as soon let it be.”

  “I doubt it can be proven.” Jasin was saying. “There were no witnesses. Only the injuries indicate it was probably native. Impossible to prove it was Sy Loeton, although I have little reservation.”

  “I still have trouble believing it was a towan,” Avram muttered.

  “Someone or something attacked that girl. What other possibilities exist?” Julian asked.

  “You know what really upsets me?” Avram continued, “Even if he admitted doing it, there isn’t a law or agreement to punish him. All Lang said was that he’d support such a law between our races afterwards. As it stands today, Sy Loeton could actually brag about it and escape punishment. It isn’t any secret that he hates humans. He continually votes to restrict our rights and there are probably a lot who agree with him.”

  “Wouldn’t he loose respect and his place on the Council?” Julian asked.

  “There’s a good chance, but the Council has to be convinced. He’d have to admit it to them, or in front of them. Our hearsay won’t persuade them. Still, it is a small punishment for murder.”

  “Maybe the murder was a new form of towdom initiation,” Jasin interjected.

  Towdoms? Was Jasin implying that the murder was purposeful, some form of human sacrifice?

  “That’s a sickening thought,” Avram replied to Jasin’s suggestion. “I doubt it’s anything like that. I still believe we’re dealing with a peaceful race. The towdoms are no more than brotherhoods, a form of local government,” said Avram. “No, as impossible as it sounds, we’ve got to get Sy Loeton to admit to the act, to brag about it while other Council members are present. He’s got to believe he’s invulnerable, and then let his hatred and arrogance toward us humans take over.”

  “How can he be manipulated like that at a Council meeting?” asked Jasin.

  “Never happen,” Julian declared. “I’m afraid Sy Lang might be right. Sy Loeton or whoever did this is probably safe. We are legally defenseless. Our agreements with this race are incomplete and one-sided.”

  “Of course they’re one-sided!” Avram shouted. “Do you think I was in position to demand equality from the Sytonians? We were lucky just to be allowed to live here.”

  “No one’s blaming you, Avram,” Julian said calmly, “I was just stating the obvious.”

  “Well, what’s obvious is that unless someone cares enough, this incident will go unpunished, the injustice of our situation will be exposed, and this will be the beginning of the end. If we can’t get Loeton to admit it in a Council meeting in T’Matte…well, maybe we can get him to admit it here.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Jasin. Elizabeth felt lost as well.

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day. Sy Loeton didn’t want humans to settle in the gorge in the first place. He was terribly outspoken about it. What would happen if we invited the entire Council to a party, a truly spectacular, extravagant affair, with beautiful food, lots of keetah, music, fine clothing…you know, do it up right. Invite the Human Caucus as well, and tell them to really push the glamour envelope. Let the Sytonians, especially Sy Loeton, see how successful we’ve become and how powerless he is when it comes to controlling human affairs. Make his worst fears a reality. Make him resent our lifestyle. Maybe we can push some of his emotional buttons, get him mad or upset, and goad him into making some kind of unguarded admission.”

  “You’re describing a lifestyle that doesn’t exist,” reminded Julian.

  “He doesn’t have to know that. He has never seen where or how we live. There can’t be many homes as beautiful as this. All we have to do is clean up, put on a little show. If we let the Caucus in on the plan, they can help bring in food and furnishings. We can fake it for just a night.”

  Elizabeth groaned. She really wanted this job to work out; she needed this job. But her first day here and all of a sudden Avram is talking about throwing a spectacular affair. She still hadn’t mentally recovered from Hyland’s funeral, and this was much more difficult, involving weeks of hard work. Any thought of easing into this new life and quietly enjoying her new surroundings suddenly evaporated. She rose, lit a few of the lanterns in the kitchen, and began cleaning the pots and dishes from dinner.

  Avram stuck his head into the kitchen as she was finishing. “I wonder if you might bring a pot of boiling water to the study later?”

  “Of course, sir. It won’t take but a minute.”

  “No rush. And Elisabeth…?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Please call me Avram. We’re not especially formal around here.” He smiled.

  Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “Thank you…sir. I’ll try to remember. It’s just not…”

  “Not what?”

  “Just not the way I was raised, I guess. You’re my employer.”

  “Try to remember our first meeting when you scolded me for wearing my boots inside.”

  Elizabeth blushed.

  “Relax, everything will be fine. I understand Julian suggested you use the storeroom.”

  “Yes sir, it will actually be quite nice once I get it clean. I was wondering…do you know where Jasin went off to? There are a few crates I could use his help moving.”

  “He headed back to his cabin out back.” Avram turned to leave. “I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

  Elizabeth watched Avram depart, suddenly having second thoughts about asking Jasin to her room to help. Was that smart? She wasn’t that interested in him, didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. She couldn’t afford getting involved with the boss’s son, but before she could sleep, that mattress had to go. She filled a pot and set it over the fire to warm.

  Ten minutes later, Elizabeth entered Avram’s study with the hot water. The new map of the Kaysop range still lay open on the desk. She stole a glance. She had never been lower in the gorge than Lake Chook, so the mountain range was unknown to her. While Avram mixed an evening cup of keetah, she took a moment to study the map.

  “Are you interested in maps?” asked Avram, letting the keetah cool.

  “I’ve only seen a few in school. They were never this beautiful. I don’t recognize the area.”

  “It’s the mountain range beyond the Kull, separating the bigger Sytonian cities from our cooler lands. You don’
t recognize it because most of our maps go no lower than the Andoree River. Sometimes they show Bistoun, or perhaps the Kull, but we rarely have any reason to travel through these mountains since the Kull which lies before it is prohibited.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t interested in a long geography lesson, but politely listened as Avram pointed out Mount Doerr and Mount Kaysop. When he paused, she quickly seized the opportunity to change the subject. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to stay here. It’s a beautiful home and I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed in me.”

  “I’m sure everything will work out fine, but we have much to do in the next few weeks.” Elizabeth cocked her head, pretending to be confused. Admitting to eavesdropping on their dinner conversation probably wasn’t the best way to start her employment.

  Avram explained his plan for the party.

  “Well, you can count on me, but I have to be honest: the funeral was the largest event I’ve ever planned.”

  “Don’t worry; you’ll have lots of help.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you again, but if there isn’t anything else this evening…”

  “Not this evening, but bring another pot here in the morning. I’m up early.”

  “Thank you, sir. See you in the morning.”

  Elizabeth left and walked back through the empty hallways to her room. She stared at the few heavy crates that she needed help moving then walked to the stuck door. She braced herself and gave it a strong push.

  Nothing.

  She looked at the decayed mattress. There was no way she would be able to sleep here. She peered out into the dimness, suddenly trapped between the need to find help and her fear of the darkness. Pushing that fear to the back of her mind, she grabbed a torch and went in search of Jasin’s cabin. Luckily there were only two outbuildings on the property used by the Elstradas and one was a gardening shed. She stopped several feet from what she assumed was Jasin’s door. A rustling in the bushes raised the hairs on her neck. She called out his name in almost a whisper. No one answered. She moved cautiously towards the door, her torch flickering. Maybe he was sleeping. She should probably go. Suddenly, footsteps from behind startled her. She turned to find Jasin.

  “You’re always sneaking up on me.” She could feel her heart beating.

  “I wasn’t expecting a visitor. I was…ah, out for a short walk.”

  Elizabeth understood. She, herself, had never been comfortable squatting in the bushes at night. During the day she had no problems, but exposing herself like that at night…well she preferred the pot. “I was hoping to get your help moving a few things in my room…I mean, if you weren’t going to bed. Would you mind?”

  The two of them went to Elizabeth’s room and managed to slide the last few crates to the side. Jasin surveyed the room and noticed the dilapidated mattress. “Where were you planning to sleep tonight?”

  “I thought you might be able to open this door and I could toss that disgusting thing outside.”

  Jasin walked over to the door and leaned into it. The door didn’t budge.

  “I tried that. It’s probably sealed outside.”

  “Why seal a door from the outside? That doesn’t seem to make sense.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I can’t see anything from inside. I just assumed.”

  They went outside. Fighting through overgrown shrubs and thorny popper plants, they arrived at the back of the house. Elizabeth had been right. The doorway led to what had been a small private sitting area surrounded by the remains of an old garden, barely discernable except for the unusual assortment of flora growing out of control. They made their way to the stuck door where the cause became immediately apparent. The ground had heaved and held the door firmly in place. Elizabeth sat down, burying her chin in her hand.

  “Well it doesn’t look like you’re going to get rid of that rodent nursery tonight. You could sleep in my cabin if you’d like.” Jasin felt awkward making the offer. She hadn’t given him the slightest encouragement. What he was beginning to feel was surely one sided, but perhaps….

  “I’m not sure that would be wise. I don’t want to put anyone out,” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s no bother.”

  “I don’t think it would be proper. It’s my first night. Hardly appropriate for the help—”

  “If you’re uncomfortable being with me… I just thought…well I could sleep at Mas’s.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable, Jasin. Truthfully, I am so tired I could sleep anywhere tonight. Don’t take this wrong, Jasin, but I doubt whether you being there will make the least little difference. It’s been a long day and I haven’t slept well on the trail. By the time my head hits a pillow, I’ll be out.”

  A single candle lantern lit the interior of Jasin’s cabin. Elizabeth removed her shoes and made herself comfortable on the proffered bed. Jasin slumped into an oversized chair. They talked awhile until sleep overwhelmed her. Jasin, however, wasn’t able to fall asleep so easily. He had never shared a room with a woman as captivating as Elizabeth without paying for the privilege. He’d had a few girl friends while in Advanced Studies; had sex with several of them, but they all seemed like, well, like girls. He’d never been as totally enchanted by a woman before. He felt foolish; he hardly knew her, but wished she would wake up so they could continue talking. His heart raced as he looked at her sleeping. Her delicate nose and left cheekbone were smudged with dirt, and the memorial mark for her brother peaked out between auburn strands. He felt himself drawn to her, wanting to gently caress her soft hair, to brush it from where it fell across her face. He watched her chest rise and fall, and stared at the graceful curve of her hip and those impossibly long legs that stretched beyond the light of the dim candle lantern.

  The Knife

  Morning light streamed through the small openings that served as windows in Jasin’s cabin and crept slowly along the floor’s stone pavers. Moving hesitantly up Elizabeth’s legs, the sunlight gently warmed her before finally falling across her eyes to wake her. Disoriented and attempting to regain her bearings, she surveyed the room.

  Jasin’s cabin was sparsely furnished—a rough table, a straight back chair, a travel backpack, stuffed full, rested against a stucco wall awaiting his next trip. The tiny utility kitchen was tidy except for where several breathing scarves were haphazardly draped over the sides a meita pot. Red stains spread from its base like veins. A wooden chest held his neatly arranged clothes; a small looking glass perched on top. Elizabeth smiled; he had a bit of vanity, but few if any hobbies, at least from what she could see.

  Where had he gone? Last night he had mentioned jogging in the foothills with Mas. Perhaps Jasin had already left for his morning run. Her eyes wandered back to the backpack. He had talked freely about so many things, but she didn’t recall anything about him leaving town.

  She yawned; considered turning over, but there was something Avram said…something he wanted early. She bolted upright. What time was it? The old man wanted hot water for his habit. Was he so completely useless that he couldn’t boil water? She quickly rose, checked herself in the small mirror, ran fingers through her hair, and headed for the door. She paused and turned back to see if there were any dirty clothes that might need cleaning. Did her duties extend to taking care of Jasin and his cabin? It would be the least she could do for his help last night, but she could find nothing, not a single article of clothing lay tossed about, everything had its place.

  As she hurried back to the main house, Elizabeth sorted through her first day with the Elstrada family. Avram, the politician: All smiles on the outside, plots and intrigue laced through his soul. Obviously, he was used to being served. Was his keetah use hiding some personal failing? Julian: Testing, sharp, very intuitive, undemanding, as shy and reserved as Avram was verbose and social. And Jasin: Organized, neat, a bit shy, attentive—Jasin had asked as many more questions of her, than she had of him. Pleasant enough. She hadn’t felt awkward. She hadn’t felt much of anything. It must have been how tire
d she was last night.

  Avram, hunched over his writing table, surrounded by stacks of invitations, glanced up as she entered with the hot water.

  “Late night?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

  A scolding or just misplaced curiosity, Elizabeth couldn’t read him. She decided to play it safe. “I’m sorry, it was a long day yesterday and I must have overslept a bit. Where would you like this?” Did Avram know she had slept in Jasin’s cabin? Of course he knew. Elizabeth bit her lip. A bad decision, just like she had feared. Now they think she’s interested in their son.

  Avram gestured towards a collection of cups. “I like it strong, but cool. You know the water has to be extremely hot, especially with the superior grades.”

  “Yes sir, it’s pretty hot. I’m sure it will do nicely.” She set to making his keetah. As she stirred the powder she glanced about the study. Her gaze fell on an ancient book. “That old book reminds me of something I’ve always wondered about.”

  Avram stopped writing and look over to her.

  “Where are the things from the ship? I mean, in all my years—”

  “All your many years…” Avram interrupted. He smiled. “How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-six sir. Twenty-seven on the 43rd of the second,” She shook her head. Why did she add her birth date? That’s what young kids do. “It’s rare to see anything from the ship. There had to be other books.”

  “Very few. Most information including our literature was stored electronically. Even the simplest readers used technology we’re prohibited from using now.”

  “Then it was all lost.”

  “It was the price we paid to survive.” Avram’s eyes twinkled and a smile bloomed on his face. “You aren’t one of those that wish me harm are you?”

  “No sir, of course not. I’m not particularly political and I’ve got enough faults of my own to start finding them in others. I don’t mean any offense at all. It’s more of a curiosity. It’s like human existence started only thirty years ago. There had to be so many interesting stories and discoveries and, well, I mean our whole history, what’s come before. You know what I mean don’t you?”

  Avram’s voice was subdued, “Of course. I am tormented every day by the loss, especially for the planet-born.” He walked over to the ancient book and carefully picked it up. He ran his fingers gently along the frail cover. “That’s one of the reasons I protect this one. Not because of what it contains, but for what it represents.” He eyed the keetah Elizabeth was absently stirring. “Done yet?”

  “I think so, but be careful. It’s still kind of hot.”

  With care, Avram replaced the book and took the steaming cup.

  “Was there anything you wanted me to pick up at the market for dinner? Anything special you would like me to prepare?” asked Elizabeth.

  “I’m sure whatever you make will be fine. Neither of us is too particular, but you should ask Julian”

  Elizabeth nodded and started to retreat, but hesitated. She had to say something about last night; she couldn’t leave having him think she was getting involved with Jasin. Turning back to Avram she said, “Last night…the mattress in my room…” She made a face. “It was really nasty. Jasin offered to help, but we couldn’t remove it. Really, I have no intention…you needn’t worry about anything.” Before Avram could comment she turned away.

  Elizabeth retreated to the kitchen and took an inventory of the cupboards, pantry, and cellar. Some of the dusty jars contained moldy mysteries she refused to investigate for fear of becoming sick. She made mental note of what she could make use of. Aside from last night’s leftovers, there were a few pieces of spoiling fruit, a container of grass tea, some gilia pudding growing hair, and several salted paddlefish that had become leathery. A trip to the market was certainly in order. But first, breakfast. Paring away the worst sections of the mushy fruit, made even more difficult with the dull knives, she salvaged enough for a modest first meal, and set the table.

  Julian arrived and stuck her head into the kitchen.

  Elizabeth looked up from the toast she was preparing from the ends of yesterday’s bread and asked. “Do you think Avram will be joining you for breakfast?”

  “You saw him this morning, not I. What do you think?”

  Elizabeth blushed, another test? “He asked for hot water. He looked busy.”

  ”Of course he did.” Julian sat down at the table in the kitchen. The massive Sytonian furniture nearly swallowed her petite form.

  “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the dining room?”

  “This is fine. I find it awkward being served and eating alone. Would you do me the favor of sitting with me?”

  “Would you like tea with your fruit and toast this morning?” Elizabeth deflected Julian’s question. What would be the proper response?

  “Thank you that would be nice. You don’t have to fuss so. You’ll find our eating habits quite basic. Come sit. Keep me company.”

  Elizabeth served the hot tea, along with the fruit and toast, and then with some hesitation, she sat.

  “Are you not eating?” asked Julian between mouthfuls.

  “I nibbled a little while I worked. You know how it is in the kitchen.” Elizabeth doubted she did. “I would like to go to the market today. The knives need sharpening and I’d like to pick up some supplies. Is there anything you’d like me to make you? Any special requests?”

  Julian shrugged and smiled. “Why don’t you decide? I appreciate the thought, but as I already said, when it comes to food we’re quite simple.”

  As I already said. Elizabeth made the mental note—Julian didn’t like repeating herself. To Julian, eating was an inconvenience. Elizabeth reached for a bit of toast.

  Julian smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

  Elizabeth was surprised at her sincerity. Julian was a lonely woman.

  After breakfast, Elizabeth quickly straightened the house. Avram and Julian each had their own rooms. Whether this was a reflection on their marriage or simply a matter of privilege, Elizabeth wasn’t sure. She refreshed the meita pot, gathered used breathing scarves and dirty laundry, and filled the washtub. While the clothes soaked, she grabbed a handful of rags and went to work on the windows of her new room. How she wished she could open her private door. Stale air permeated the room and the disgusting remains of the tattered mattress gave off a fetid smell, but disposing of it would have to wait until after she returned from town. She didn’t plan on spending another night with Jasin, even if it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  Definitely the strongest memory of the night was how tired she had been…that, and how eager he was to talk, as if he’d never have another chance. It was a little unnerving; his dark eyes had never drifted from hers. Details of what they had discussed eluded her, yet his obvious desire to share, to find some connection with her, was still vivid.

  By noon, she had clean windows and clean clothes. Not a bad morning, she thought as she gathered the dull knives from the kitchen, wrapping them in rough cloth before dropping them in her daypack. If she had a stone, she could have sharpened them herself, but saving a few meita didn’t seem to matter in this privileged household. She’d just drop them off at the cutlery while she went to the market. Elizabeth took a few minutes to see if either Avram or Julian needed anything before she left.

  “If you would deliver these invitations for the party to a few Caucus members who live in town, I’d be most appreciative,” Avram handed Elizabeth the bundle.

  She hesitated, but reached out and took them. “I really don’t know anyone in Nova Gaia.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not as hard as it sounds. At this time of day most of them can be found either at the market or in their homes off Main Street. Just ask Janess; she practically lives in the market. She’ll be the one selling tiela gourd. You can trust her. She’s from a good family. I’m sure she’ll be glad to point you in the right direction.”

  Being careful not to crumple
them, she placed them in her pack and headed out through the wide courtyard to begin the fifteen-minute walk to town.

  Nova Gaia had grown at the base of rolling hills beneath imposing Mount Trinity, a ragged peak that blocked the view to the gorge rim. The Elstrada complex sat nestled in the foothills, so after just a few twists in the road, she was looking down into the center of town where dozens of empty buildings lined the main street. Only about 300 humans lived in the immediate area, yet strangely, the city had been built for a population ten times that. With the exception of her own town of Panvera, which was built entirely by and for humans, Elizabeth knew this oddity to be true throughout the cold region. Most humans believed the Sytonians who had inhabited these cities had been relocated to the warm side of the Kaysop range, or they moved willingly after the Council had informed them of the settlement agreement. Nobody knew for sure. A few months after the humans reoccupied the empty cities, the extra space became normal and no one gave it much thought. The ship-born often commented that coming from the tight quarters of Tanis, normal living space took on new meaning.

  She found the cutlery and approached the proprietor, an older, ship-born gentleman. After receiving assurance that they’d be worked on immediately, she continued on to the market. Without difficulty, she found Avram’s friend, Janess, a young woman, with curly dark hair. Elizabeth estimated her age at twenty-one or so.

  “What’s they say?” Janess asked without a hint of propriety. “Don’t believe you haven’t took a peek.” The scruffy, thin youth snatched one of the invitations and smiled, revealing more than a few missing teeth.

  Elizabeth reached for the invitation, uncomfortable at the breach of etiquette, but Janess turned away.

  “You wants my help or not?” With tiela stained fingers, the young merchant opened the folded paper and peered at it for the longest time. She turned it this way and that, leaving purple fingerprints upon the fine handmade paper. “It ain’t good writing…not that I can make out anyway.” She held the invitation open for Elizabeth to see.

  The invitation was written in elegant sweeping script. Only the ship-born, and perhaps the daughters of professors, such as she, were taught the novelty of the ancient hand. Elizabeth couldn’t help notice the date of the party—fortieth of the fifth, not even two septets from today. She refolded the invitation.

  “You’re right,” Elizabeth said. “It’s impossible to make out. Besides, it’s just Caucus business. So where do I find…” She sorted through the invitations. “Sandist Lee, Findley, and this Yarrow fellow.” The fact that she could read the names somehow failed to register on poor Janess.

  “Them old folks be by soon enough. Everyday I sees them,” Janess said. “You want me to give um to them?”

  “That would be nice. Are you sure? It’s important.”

  “Just two meita. I’ll make it my top pree-or-a-tee,” she said with another toothless grin.

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. “Or maybe I’ll just buy a few of your gourds and we’ll call it even.” Somehow Elizabeth trusted her; Avram had, so she bought several ripe gourds, paying more than a fair price just to make certain Janess would do as she said.

  “This one is for Lee, this one’s for Findley, and the last is—”

  “Yarrow, yous already told me.”

  “Thank you Janess.” She entrusted the invitations to the waif’s filthy, but seemingly capable hands.

  Elizabeth continued to explore the market for several hours, getting to know where the best food could be had at the best prices. Finally, with a full bag of groceries, she made her way back through a street of deserted buildings to the cutlery. The older gentleman who had taken them was no longer there, but a younger boy, about sixteen, eagerly ran into the back of the shop to retrieve them.

  “Here they are. Like new if you ask me.” He handed the package of knives to Elizabeth who unwrapped them to make sure they were all there.

  “If you don’t mind me asking…it’s just that I know almost everyone in the area…well, my name is Joey.” The boy stuck out his hand and Elizabeth shook it. The boy smiled broadly and held her hand a trifle longer than good manners might dictate. His gaze wandered over her.

  “Elizabeth,” she stated without hint of emotion so as not to encourage him. She spread the knives out and tested the edges of several of them against a fingernail. They slid across with biting. “Did you sharpen these?”

  “Yes, one of my better jobs if I must say.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to do them again or get someone else who knows what they’re doing. These are worse than when I dropped them off.”

  The boy’s face fell. “There wasn’t enough time and…and you had too many of them to do well. Seriously, I can usually do a really good job.”

  “You can’t tell it from these.” Elizabeth took a few of the sharper ones she knew she would need and pushed the rest back towards the boy. “I’ll take these now and pick up the others tomorrow. They’d better be sharp, really sharp. Do you understand?” She made it sound more important than it really was. There was just something about the boy she immediately disliked— inept and a trifle too friendly, a bit like Jorge Wynosk with his creepy staring.

  Elizabeth left the shop and headed up the road, back toward her new home. It was a rare clear day. The sun shone brightly and she could easily make out all the distant peaks including Mount Schtolin. Beyond it and further up lay Panvera. She hadn’t been back in over a year and while she missed her father, the thought of her childhood home, now filled with haunting memories of her mother and brother, only brought back sadness.

  Approaching the Elstrada gate, she met Mas, just leaving the house. His clothes were covered with grime and he greeted her with a broad smile and laughter. “Going to cook me dinner? How sweet! And we’ve only just met.”

  Elizabeth grinned. Mas was so easy going. It was a pleasure seeing him again. “I couldn’t wait to impress you. I was hoping you’d propose after sampling my soup.”

  His eyes glistened and he swept an errant lock of blond hair from his eye. “What’s the rush? Mark my words; we’ll fall in love by the end of the week. Do you need help with your sack?”

  “No thanks. I didn’t buy much.”

  “I saw what you’ve done to that old store room. Looks great.”

  “Snooping around in my room? Should I be worried about you?”

  “No, just helping out a bit.” He flashed another of his endearing smiles and started down the road, but stopped and shouted back, “Tell Jasin, I’ll be at Suzy’s tonight. You should join us.”

  She watched him walk away, feeling a little guilty for checking out his tight backside. It had been a long time since she even let herself consider an offer like that.

  While dinner baked, Elizabeth retreated to her room. Kicking off her shoes, she headed to the washbasin. It had already been a full day and as tempting as Mas’s offer to go out had been, she knew she would probably pass on it. She dipped a cloth into the cool water and scrubbed her face. A shadow passed by the freshly cleaned windows and she jumped. If she were to have any privacy she’d have to make some drapes. Then there was a knock on the outside door.

  “Who’s there?” she yelled. When no one answered, she asked again.

  Suddenly, she understood and ran to the door, throwing it open to find Jasin standing next to a pile of dirt. “It’s great! Thank you so much,” she said swinging the door from side to side.

  “At your service.” Jasin beamed.

  “I should have guessed what you were up to when I saw Mas.”

  “He didn’t tell you did he? I’ll kill him.”

  “No, I just should have figured it out…He wanted me to tell you he was going to a girl’s place tonight. A Sue somebody.

  “Suzy’s? That’s a tavern we like to hang out at.”

  “Are you going?”

  “Probably, unless something comes up.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I suspected that something was wrong. I
saw your backpack. Are you going back to Bistoun?”

  “No. There are no plans whatsoever, at least that I am aware off. I always have a few things ready. You never know when Beloit might call. It pays to be prepared. You should join us at Suzy’s after you’re done with dinner,” he said.

  “Aren’t you having dinner with your folks?”

  “Two nights in a row? That’s a bit much. Join us after you’re done. I’d like to spend some time with you when your eyes are open.”

  “Two nights in a row?” She repeated with a smile, and a shake of her head. “That’s a bit much.” She grew somber. “It’ll be dark soon. Conboet and Eian have been setting early. I think I’ll just stay here.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ll come get you. Don’t worry. I’ll have you back before breakfast.” Jasin didn’t wait for another objection, but turned and headed for his cabin. It wouldn’t have mattered what excuse she had. He was going to spend time with her tonight even if he had to help her clean his parent’s dishes.

  Smoke filled Suzy’s, a crowded inn just big enough for five small tables, a native grill pit, a dozen loud people, and Rahfi, the most obese human Elizabeth had ever seen. She couldn’t help but stare as he moved around the grill adjusting cuts of turbak to keep them from burning. Sweat poured from the man, dripping onto the hot metal and, although the room was loud, Elizabeth was sure she could hear the droplets sizzle as they danced off the cooking surface. The crowd was almost entirely planet-born. To most that grew up aboard Tanis, dining on animal meat was a difficult concept to accept.

  Jasin introduced Elizabeth to a few friends, but never moved far from her side. They watched Mas float through the crowd, enchanting and entertaining friends and strangers alike. His blond curls stood out among the sea of darker heads.

  “He’s been able to do that since we were kids,” Jasin said leaning close to Elizabeth so he could be heard.

  “Do what?”

  “Talk to strangers… I can’t do it. How do you know if they’re interested in what you have to say? How do you not know you’re not interrupting or being a pest?”

  “You don’t seem to have difficulty talking to me.”

  “That’s different,” he said, nervously running a hand across the rough stubble on his cheek. He couldn’t explain why, but his desire to be with Elizabeth, to talk to her, was so great, that it had never occurred to him that she might be offended by his ramblings, but the thought stopped him cold. Why did she bring it up just then? Was he just babbling? Was she bored with him already? He should have shaved. His brain refused to move beyond the nagging thought that he was making a fool of himself. The next few seconds crawled; she had to say something first.

  Elizabeth could sense his anxiety. “I’m glad you feel like you can talk to me.” She briefly touched his hand, and then feared he would take it wrong, but it was too late. She was enjoying both men’s company and there was no reason to lead either of them on.

  Mas eventually made it back to their table. “There’s a lot of talk about Bistoun,” he said. “You should go out there, Jasin, and impress a few ladies with your first hand knowledge.”

  “You know I can’t talk about that.”

  “Too bad. You wouldn’t have to coerce bedless women to your cabin tonight.” Mas winked at Elizabeth. “Come Elizabeth, leave this loner. There are a dozen lovelies that are dying to meet their new competition.”

  She laughed, but made no effort to move.

  “Perhaps you’d rather just get out of here and give my bed a whorl.” His toothy smile lit up the room. “Come on Jasin, give a brother a chance. Let her free.”

  It was easy to be attracted to Mas’s natural charisma. He was handsome and exciting, but Elizabeth felt a bit out of her class. It was difficult keeping up with his energy and flamboyance. Mas flew just beyond her, just out of reach.

  On the other hand, Jasin’s relaxed quiet nature, his reserve and undivided attention towards her was much more comfortable, more grounded. Together, they watched Mas flit about, never quite landing until it was time for dinner.

  Rahfi grilled them one of his specialties—marinated splayed turbak—and they ate the delicacy along with fermented fruit drinks as if they were starving barbarians unsure where their next meal would come from. Jasin and Elizabeth soon tired, but for Mas, the evening was just starting. They both gave him good-natured hugs goodnight, made plans to meet him tomorrow, and then together headed for the door. However, before they had taken a dozen steps, Elizabeth stopped.

  “Just give me a minute,” she said running back to Mas.

  Jasin watched as she took Mas by the arm. He swayed unsteadily as she pulled him aside. After a few words, she leaned forward and spoke intimately into his ear. When she had finished, he leaned forward, his lips puckered and his eyes closed. Elizabeth laughed, then kissed him, and ran back to rejoin Jasin.

  As they began slowly walking home, the distance between them widened ever so slightly and the cold of the darkness descended into the space between. Jasin couldn’t get the scene out of his mind. He couldn’t believe the two of them. Right in front of him. They didn’t even have the decency to hide their desires. Finally, he stopped, unable to continue any farther.

  “What was that all about?”

  “What are you talking about?” said Elizabeth, truly confused.

  “That last little thing with Mas.”

  “I made a date with him for later,” she said, with as much seriousness as she could muster.

  He was speechless. How could his best friend do this to him? He had read Elizabeth all wrong. She was like all the others—easy prey for Mas. Suddenly, he erupted. “What is this then? Why are you here now? What kind of game—”

  “Oh, stop it! You’ve got to relax. It’s nothing. I only asked him to pick up some knives for me. He said he wouldn’t unless I gave him a little kiss. Don’t spoil a perfect night.”

  Jasin looked away for an instant hiding embarrassment so strong he was sure she could see it in the dark. What should he do now? The wind picked up and cooled his blushing cheek. A popper bush rustled in the breeze.

  She stepped closer and held out her hand, “Don’t you think it’s time we get back?”

  They held hands and walked through the town in silence. The few torches and lanterns that had illuminated their way earlier that evening were now extinguished and insignificant sounds caused Elizabeth to jump. She drew closer. Sensing her discomfort, Jasin quickened their pace. A hundred paces on a distant cylith howl froze her.

  “Everything’s fine,” Jasin said calmly. “No one has ever seen a pup in town.”

  “We’re no longer in town,” she pointed out.

  “Let’s just keep moving.” He coaxed her forward, but by the time they arrived at her bedroom door, she was trembling. Shyly, he embraced her, hoping to comfort her. Elizabeth’s arms lay limp along her side. He looked at her, wanting to kiss her, but in the darkness of the night, found only an empty mask where he had seen such joyful animation earlier. He opened her door and helped her light a few candles. Once inside, Elizabeth calmed down. Color returned to her face, but Jasin couldn’t detect even a trace of interest or desire. He wanted to approach her, but whatever intimacy they had begun to share had vanished. She coolly thanked him for the evening and they parted awkwardly.

  Jasin wandered slowly back to his empty cabin. What must it have been like for Elizabeth that dreadful night, watching Michael mauled to death in front of her? He shuddered and opened his cabin’s door. Stepping inside, he shut the unknown out and settled in. Yesterday had been much nicer. He looked at where she had slept the night before, picturing her long beautiful legs in the candlelight. Tonight hadn’t ended as he had hoped. There were a few brief smiles, a tender touch, and unspoken moments that held promise. But had she held his hand out of fear of the dark? Perhaps, he was rushing her. He would slow down. Elizabeth was worth whatever effort or time that was necessary. He just hoped she thought the same of him.
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  For Elizabeth, sleep was impossible. At first, she blamed the cold blankets, then the mysterious sounds she heard outside her window. She tossed about in frustration thinking of how she had ended the night. She found an endless stream of excuses for her lack of sexual desire. There were times that from deep within, she would feel a slight familiar twinge, but it never grew strong. Something always dampened it. She rolled onto her back, and pulled the blanket tighter around her neck to keep the cold draft out. How long had it been since she made love or had sex of any kind? After her mother died, she had enjoyed the company of a few boys, and sharing her bed and body always felt like part of the package. But then Michael died and she found that feeling anything hurt too much. The horrible year she spent taking care of Hyland hadn’t helped. Jorge was so awful that she had done everything in her power not to encourage him. She had suppressed her sexual feelings, buried them to such a point that the sensual part of her now seemed dead. She let her hand drift slowly down from her neck and delicately across her breasts, trying to tease her flesh into remembering the sensation. Rolling to her side, she gathered the blanket tightly between her legs and squeezed her thighs together. This is silly, she thought, and rolled back, embarrassed at the futility. A few minutes ago, she had a handsome and willing man that had clearly shown affection. And now…and now she had probably alienated him. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to have anything to do with her—a hopeless tease with ice water for blood.

 

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