by Jane Baskin
Eventually her eye, attracted by movement below. Where she saw … everything.
Had been dying to tell Nayan. Never thought to tell Che, who had been left in charge of things in Nayan’s absence. No, had to tell Nayan personally. Only Nayan.
But couldn’t get to him. She, blocked from getting to him by the hordes of friends, relatives surrounding him. Trying to ease his agony. Seren-ye, telling Colwen she had something important to tell the Lord. But she, known for flightiness. Known for a hopeless crush on Nayan. Colwen, assuming she wanted only to seize the opportunity to be close to him, now that he was once again unmarried.
In desperation, Seren-ye told her parents. They, knowing their daughter to be far too simple minded to have made up such a story. But not as eager as she, to inform Lord Nayan.
No, the opposite. Her parents, sensing the danger. From the sub lord. From Noar. They, doing something she herself would never have thought to do: had her deposed before a village clerk; had the testimony recorded in book and page. Then swearing her to absolute secrecy.
After that: praying that no harm would come to her.
“If anyone should find out, especially the sub lord, tell them the story is recorded in Book 1105, page 512.” Had her repeat the message over and over, to get it right.
Of course, when the time came, forgot the book and page. But did tell Noar, when she encountered him in the hall, “I know what you did.”
Oh Seren-ye. Such a foolish girl. Her wound from Noar’s off and on rejection, still oozing. Her understanding of danger: nil. All she understood: Nayan, kept apart from her. No one to tell. And fairly bursting with the knowledge.
Encountering Noar in a castle hall: felt like it was fate. So … putting her life on the line.
Noar: “You silly bitch. What are you talking about?”
“I was cleaning Nayan’s rooms, when I looked out the window to the garden. I saw you … with the Lady. I saw what you did. She ran through the tunnel before the old man even came into the garden.”
Noar’s arm shooting out. His big hand, instantly around Seren-ye’s thin neck. “And who else knows about this?”
Seren-ye, through her choking: “My parents. And they made me tell it to a village clerk, and it’s written down in some book and a page, I – I forget which ones. But if any harm should come to me … ”
Noar released her. Glowering. Finally: “If you should tell a soul, you can be absolutely certain harm will come to you. Fuck your book and page.”
An empty threat, perhaps. But more than enough to frighten Seren-ye into silence.
That night, Iskaya-te murmuring to Noar in bed: “Darling, let’s go home. This is a dreary place.”
“We’ll go home soon.”
“When is ‘soon’?”
“As soon as I have the seeds.”
“Oh forget the seeds. You have me. They can’t undo that now.”
Yes, I have you. For what it’s worth. “Yes, darling. But now it’s a matter of personal honor.” Seeing Nayan’s face in his mind’s eye. Red with rage. Eyes glistening with sorrow. You moron, Noar. How could you be so stupid?
You moron, Noar.
I will get the seeds. I will take the seeds back to Selshay, which is a better home than this by far. I won’t be a moron there. I’ll be a hero, damn you Nayan. Damn you to all the hells.
Nayan, riding his huge gantha northward. At a walk.
Not so rough going, now. The evenings still cool, but the days: warm. The northern summer, everywhere. Small meadow flowers, poking up through the grasses.
Had told Che. Then the entire castle/village assembled in the great hall: “I’m leaving. You may consider that weak of me, and perhaps it is. I’m not saying I’ll never be back. To be honest, I have no idea. But for now, consider me gone.”
Had fixed his eye on Che: “I have decided not to move for war. With or without the gift. There’s been enough war.”
Then looked directly at Olgar, Che’s father. I hope you hear me, Olgar. You were right, Ania was right. My mother was right. No one should have such power. When will it ever end?
Olgar, nodding. Yes, Nayan. A thousand times, yes.
To the people in the hall: “This place … holds too many sad memories for me, right now. In the Assembly, I’d be ineffective. So I hereby resign my position as Lord of Cha-ning Province. You must select another Lord in my place. I thank you for your support and your sympathies. Good luck.”
The People, not really astonished. Maybe should have been. But how much can one man stand? The murder of his parents, the murder of his bride, the betrayal of his brother … not a soul in the room able to condemn him for abandoning his duty. In any case, better to hope for his return one day, than have half a man, a distracted man, in the Provincial Assembly.
Now Nayan, just wandering. Trying not to remember his parents’ kind faces, Zoren-te’s smile. Her sea green eyes. Trying not to remember her embrace.
Fingering the lock of Zoren-te’s hair, that he had taken from her hairbrush. From a few loose hairs left on the pillow of their bed. That he had strung out and tied with one of her ribbons. Twisting the little rope over and about his fingers incessantly, as he rode on.
Pausing at the edge of the wood that marked the border of Rhymney Province and the start of the climb into the mountains. Looking up, on this sharp clear night, at the stars. So bright. So many of them. So clear over the meadow he was leaving.
Which one are you, Zoren? What would you tell me, if you could?
Just staring. Wondering at the stars. Wondering at the planets that must, according to scientists, be circling other suns, just like Sauran’s.
I wonder if one of those planets is like this one. I wonder if there’s air to breathe, and meadows to ride in. I wonder if you’re there, starting a new life. Maybe you’ve just been born.
Would you remember me, my love, if somehow we met?
Goaded his gantha into the wood. I wish I could go there. I wish I could just rise up, and fly. Someday we’ll make some sort of machine that could fly, that could take me to the stars, so that I could search for you. So that I could find you again. Maybe I’ll live long enough to find you again.
Turning his mount due north, then. Knowing, in some deep unconscious part of him, where he was going. To the gell fields, to that spot that always called him. That he visited every year; listening, wondering. Certain that there was something there. Life, maybe people. Something beneath the surface; something that knew him, called him. Something that moved, cruising jeweled halls of ice.
His gantha’s feet, sinking slightly into the still soft ground, where spring winds had been dispersed by the trees. Where the ground had not yet fully dried. Where it remained soft, like the swamp in his heart.
He enters the wood.
Yes, poor soul.
His heart is so wounded.
Of course. So sad about his mate. She was coming along nicely. I would have liked to see the breeding.
Remember: you will, some day. Her sire was one of our best. Even though she did not have the gift as strongly as he. But for now, yes, sad.
And Nayan’s dam, as well. So talented, and a good breeder. Bred true, she did. Although she was so frightened of it!
(Smile) The bloodline is still strong. It’ll just take a little longer, that’s all. What we want to see, we will see.
(Sigh) All right, you win. I admit it; I am impatient. (Smile)
We will wait.
We always do. Anyway, he’s a strong seed. And he’s coming right to us.
Yes, they often do, don’t they? He’ll be here soon.
Yes.
He won’t be able to be with others of his kind. Not for a while. Which may be a good thing. They sometimes incubate best in isolation.
You know, I feel their suffering, we all do. Hard not to; they’re such a talented sub species.
Of course. But we cannot lose our objectivity.
Lose our – oh squat! I can be a scientist and (unheard) a
t the same time. We are civilized, you know.
No offense. (smile) I feel Nayan’s sorrow too.
Poor things, all of them.
How sad they don’t know yet, there is no death.
Hmmn.
We should prepare. He will come right to us. Poor creature.
Yes, of course. We will be ready.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jane Baskin is the author of Jane of the Jungle, a fantasy novel that won several awards, among them Reader’s Choice and a silver in the Foreword Book of the Year, 2011. These days she is concentrating on science fiction. Her prior experience as a social worker gives her a unique perspective on world building.
Sky Brother, sky Sister is a set of five novels telling the story of Earth and her twin brother, the planet Sauran. It is the story of a gene. A gene that makes people powerful – dangerously so – but above all else, protects itself; seeks its own survival. The gene is a bond between Earth and her brother planet, Sauran. And it will wait – through millennia, through space, through ages of human experience; until it unites these races of humanoids in an iteration that ensures their survival … or heralds their death.
