The Kindly Ones

by Melissa Scott

  There was a long silence, the Holders looking acutely uncomfortable. Yslin, I thought, was faking it, panting for his chance to stab Alkres in the back. After a moment, Shemer cleared his throat. "Sors, and ama, you must enter."

  Asbera Ingvarr looked up sharply. "I will, then," she said, and turned a hostile glance on Yslin, daring him to interrupt. "I was at the meetings, yes, and I say, with the Patriarch, that there was no breach of code, no more than there was any of the times Halfrid Brandr charged it. And that's the exact truth, under the code, no matter what anyone else tells you."

  Halfrid sneered openly. Shemer said, "Ansson?"

  Barthel Ansson licked his lips, then made an odd, shrugging motion. "I saw no breach of code when I was there," he said. "I ask the Council to excuse me from any further questions."

  Damn him, I thought, he's ruined us. I kept my face steady, bracing myself to hear what Yslin Rhawn would say. The Holder did not speak, and finally Shemer said, "Rhawn."

  Yslin faced the cameras, eyes tragic. Only the slight twitching at the corners of his mouth betrayed his real feelings. "Sor, ama, this isn't easy," he said, and sighed tragically. He made a great show of choosing his next words, and it was all I could do to keep my lip from curling in contempt. Surely no one was being taken in by this incompetent, I thought, knowing perfectly well it was to their advantage to pretend to believe. They can't believe him.

  Yslin sighed again, and spread his hands to indicate he was abandoning some position. It was more like a dancer's mime than any human gesture, and I sneered, knowing Yslin would see. His eyes flashed angrily, but he kept his voice under control. "As many—most—of you know, I have often opposed Herself's dealings with off-world. As for code-breach, I—I'll just repeat what's already been said," he said, with the air of a man who's just found a way out of a difficult situation. "There were accusations made before the Ship's Council, but they weren't proved."

  "Two of them were," Halfrid murmured, and Yslin bowed his head.

  "That's true."

  After that, the issue wasn't in doubt. With only one Holder willing to stand up for him, Alkres had no chance of winning; Shemer's poll was barely a formality. The mainline Halex were found guilty of breaking the code, and the Brandr attack was accepted as justified. Only Landret voted for us, and he had the stiff, blank look of a gambler who knows he holds the losing cards.

  "That brings us to the second question," the Brandr Patriarch said loudly, flushed with victory. "What's to be done about the mainline Family?"

  "You have no proof that all the mainline kin conspired to break the code," Landret said wearily. "That's not a reasonable assumption."

  "They must be punished," Araxie said. "It was their duty to oppose breach of code—with their lives, if necessary."

  "How many of them had the opportunity to oppose Eldrede?" Landret asked. "I repeat, what Halfrid proposes is not a reasonable punishment." He hesitated, then added, under his breath, "It's an act of malice."

  Halfrid bridled at that, but Shemer pretended not to have heard.

  "What do you suggest as a reasonable punishment, Landret? They have been found guilty—something has to be done."

  "It seems to me that the guilty have already been punished," Landret said, "and more severely than the law requires. Levy a fine, if you feel something else is needed, but nothing more."

  "Not nearly enough!" Araxie snapped.

  Halfrid said, "Fines are all right for minor offenses. This is a major crime—we've never dealt with anything so serious, not since before the Landing."

  Alkres had controlled his anger until then, but the comparison with the semi-legendary generation-ship mutiny, the original sin that brought the colonists to Orestes instead of warm, fertile Agni, was too much for him. "How dare you? You're acting more like the Mutineers; we never did."

  "Alkres!" I put both hands on his shoulders, forcing him back into his chair. That was the one insult never spoken on Orestes: one could skirt it, as Halfrid had done, but Alkres had stepped over the line. Distaste and disapproval warred in Shemer's face, and in the faces of the Holders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Landret slowly shake his head. Alkres subsided, his shoulders rigid under my hands.

  "Enough!" Shemer glared into the cameras. "It has been proposed that the mainline Halex be punished for breaking the code by their disenfranchisement, and that the Kinship be given over to the senior Branch Holder; or that, the senior members of the mainline kindred being true-dead, the remainder of that kin be punished by fine and/or forfeit. Is there any other proposal?"

  There was a movement among the Brandr Holders, and a rat-faced man, the youngest of the Holders, leaned forward, clearing his throat. "If I might speak, sor, and Arbiter?"

  Shemer glanced at Halfrid, who shrugged, frowning. The Axtell Patriarch said, "Very well. Permission being granted, I recognize the Holder Stennet Fira."

  "Thank you," Stennet said, with another wary glance at his genarch. "I don't have another proposal, but I do offer an amendment to Himself's. With all respect, Landret Orillon's right, you can't punish all the mainline for the matriarch's doings. I propose that the surviving members of the mainline kin be allowed to accept membership in whatever other Branch they're closest kin to, and that they be declared dead only if they refuse that offer."

  I sighed, and saw Landret lean back in his chair. Stennet had just killed our last chance to stave off disaster, and we both knew it. Signe was whispering to the Tam'ne Holder, and Galar appeared to be listening intently, but then Shemer called the vote, and I turned my attention back to the display tank.

  "Brandr?"

  The Jan Holder was still murmuring at Halfrid, who made a face, and waved his hand impatiently at Shemer. "All right, aye. I accept the amendment."

  "Fyfe?"

  Araxie nodded. "Aye."

  "Orillon?"

  Landret sighed deeply. "I oppose the entire suggestion."

  "Do you abstain?" Shemer asked.

  Landret's lips tightened—the first signs of anger I'd seen him show —but then he mastered himself, and said, gravely, "No. I believe both versions of this proposal to be pernicious. However, this is the lesser of the two evils. I vote aye."

  "Axtell votes aye as well," Shemer said. "The amendment is accepted."

  Alkres leaned back in his chair. "We've lost, haven't we?" he whispered.

  "Maybe not," I said. I heard the doubt in my own voice, and made myself speak the truth. "But it doesn't look good."

  "I shouldn't've said anything," the boy murmured, half to himself, and I shook my head.

  "It's not your fault," I began, but then Shemer had laid his hand on the table again.

  "Are there any other proposals, or further amendments?"

  Landret lifted his hand. "I ask that the Holders be polled as well. This is, after all, a matter that concerns them deeply—more so than most things that come before the Ship's Council."

  "Some it concerns more deeply than others," Signe said, with a meaningful glance at Yslin Rhawn. The Tam'ne Holder laughed, and Stennet Fira put his hand over his mouth.

  Shemer ignored the byplay. "That seems reasonable. Is there any objection?"

  "I don't have any objection," Halfrid said abruptly, "but there's something I'd like to say. My honor has been called into question and under code I'm entitled to answer that."

  "That question hasn't come before the Council, and won't come before it now," Shemer said, sounding almost startled.

  "Nevertheless," Halfrid said. The two genarchs locked eyes, and it was Shemer who looked away.

  "All right," he muttered, "speak your piece."

  "I'll say this, then," Halfrid began. "I hold the judgment of the Ship's Council to be an admission that our feud against the Halex, and each action of that feud, was justified. I further state that opposition to this decision is grounds for feud, and will be treated as such."

  "You can't do that," one of the Fyfe Holders said, involuntarily, and the Matriarch hushed him.
/>   I held my breath. Surely, this would be the final straw; surely, they wouldn't give in to such a blatant threat. Maybe we had a chance after all. . . . Then I looked at the wary, frightened faces around the table, and knew that last hope was gone. Neither Holders nor genarchs looked ready to lead an opposition movement—not even Landret, though Signe and the Tam'ne Holder were whispering together again. Araxie was smiling, openly enjoying her vicarious triumph, and I felt a chill go up my spine. What would we do, if—when —this effort failed?

  "Your statement is noted for the record," Shemer said flatly, not looking at Alkres. "Very well. I will poll the Holders of each Kinship, and then the genarchs, in the usual order. Berngand of Axtell?"

  "Death," the elderly Holder answered promptly. I supposed I couldn't blame him for being afraid to oppose the Brandr—how could he, when his Patriarch had backed down first?—but I despised him for answering so quickly. The same disgust was reflected in Galar Tam'ne's face, and he whispered something more to Signe.

  "Why bother polling them?" Alkres whispered. "Let's just get it over with."

  "Emelon of Axtell?" Shemer continued.

  "Death." The Emelon Holder looked at her hands, unable to meet Alkres's accusing stare.

  "I don't know," I said. "Maybe to get them on record, if we can ever appeal?"

  "There isn't any appeal from the Ship's Council," Alkres said bitterly.

  "Hadulin of Axtell?" Shemer asked.

  Hadulin made a face, distorting the axes tattooed on his forehead, but nodded. "Death."

  "As Arbiter, I reserve my vote," Shemer said. "Elgeve of Brandr?"

  There were no surprises from the Brandr Holders, though neither the Jan Holder nor Stennet Fira looked particularly pleased with their Patriarch's statement. Alkres shivered convulsively as Halfrid cast his vote, but said nothing.

  "Charlot of Fyfe?" Shemer asked.

  The two Fyfe Holders voted with their Matriarch. Araxie's voice, when she cast her vote, was almost indecently pleased with herself, and even her Holders looked a little embarrassed by her attitude.

  "Ansson of Halex?" Shemer asked, and by some tremendous effort of will kept his voice completely neutral.

  Alkres tensed, staring at Barthel as though he could influence the Holder by sheer strength of will. Barthel looked away, glancing at the other Halex Branch Holders, then leaned his face in his hands. "A moment, please," he said, in a muffled voice.

  Halfrid Branch started to say something, but the Jan Holder forestalled it. There was a long silence, broken at last by Shemer clearing his throat. Barthel looked up, eyes wild.

  "I cannot vote, I won't vote. Let me be."

  "Ansson of Halex abstains," Shemer repeated, after a moment. "Ingvarr of Halex?"

  Asbera shot a contemptuous glance at Barthel, then faced the cameras squarely. "I can vote, and I will. I vote for a fine, if anything, and the hell with you, Halfrid Brandr."

  Bravely spoken, I thought, but not much use at this late date. If she'd only declared herself so unambiguously earlier, we might not be in this position.

  Halfrid said, ominously, "I won't forget this, Ingvarr."

  "Be quiet!" Shemer seemed to have recovered some of his confidence. "There will be no threats in the Council."

  "He might've said that earlier," Alkres muttered.

  Shemer looked up and down the table again, compelling quiet. "Rhawn of Halex?"

  Yslin looked down at his hands—less from reluctance, I thought, then to hide his smile. Still looking down, he said, "Death."

  Someone among the Holders hissed softly, but the sound was cut off before I could see who had made it. Alkres said, very quietly, "Yslin never did like me."

  "It doesn't have anything to do with you," I murmured. "Never think it does."

  "By the decision of the Council, the Halex genarchy is considered disputed and casts no vote," Shemer continued. "Tam'ne of Orillon?"

  Galar hesitated, his long mouth drawn into a pained scowl, and Landret said, "One moment, please." He fixed his eyes on Halfrid. "This statement of yours, Brandr. Essentially, you said you consider opposition to you grounds for feud. Is that correct?"

  Halfrid hesitated, and I found myself hoping the Brandr Patriarch had finally miscalculated. Surely he couldn't afford to admit openly that that was what he'd said—though everyone knew that was what he'd meant—but if he backed down, softened the threat, maybe it would put heart into the other genarchs and their Holders, give them a chance to recast their vote. . . . Then Halfrid smiled, and I knew we'd lost.

  "Yes, that's correct," the Brandr Patriarch said. "I stand behind it."

  Landret sighed, suddenly looking very old. Galar and Signe exchanged nervous glances, and at last I understood what I should have realized from the beginning. Electra was a land-poor world, and what they had was good only for mining. Signe had said the greenhouses had been having difficulties because of the cold—and where else would Electra, the Orillon Mandate, go for food but to Orestes? The Brandr had held the winning card all along.

  "Tam'ne of Orillon?" Shemer said again.

  Galar sighed. "Death," he said, reluctantly.

  "Orillon?" Shemer asked.

  Landret closed his eyes. "Death."

  Alkres's mouth trembled as though he were about to cry, but he controlled himself in time, staring at Landret as though he'd never seen him before.

  "And Axtell votes for death," Shemer said softly. He looked away from the cameras, not meeting Alkres's eyes. "The decision of the Council is, then, that the mainline Halex are as dead, but that they may for the time of one calendar-month function as living in order that they may, if they so choose, become part of the closest Branch. At the end of the calendar-month, any Halex of Halex still claiming that Family will be as dead. This is the decision of the Council."

  "I protest that," Galar said suddenly. "I protest all today's decisions."

  "You can't do that," Araxie said.

  "On what ground?" Shemer demanded.

  "Undue influence and wrongful action," Galar shot back. Unbelievably, he was grinning—nerves, I thought, as much as anything, but then I saw that Signe was smiling, too. Landret was watching both his Heir and his Holder, gambler's eyes narrowed, waiting to see what they were doing.

  "I do not accept the judgment," Galar said again, and folded his arms across his chest.

  "You have no choice," Halfrid said.

  Galar ignored him. Shemer frowned, the recorder whispering in his ear and then leaned forward again. "Tam'ne, you must accept the judgment of the Ship's Council. The vote has been taken and the judgment stands."

  "I don't accept it," Galar said stubbornly.

  "Then by God we'll make you accept it," Halfrid growled.

  Landret lifted a hand, and I realized that this was what he'd been waiting for. "That's a matter for my concern, Halfrid, not yours."

  "You must compel him to accept," Shemer said.

  Landret bowed. "I will speak to him, certainly, you have my word on it. But this remains a matter for the Orillon Kinship—and no concern of the Ship's Council." He snapped his fingers at the technicians, and said, "I withdraw from the meeting."

  On his signal, the technicians cut power, and the images in the tank faded. The last thing we saw was Halfrid Brandr leaning forward as though he could force the camera link to remain open, his face contorted into a mask of rage. Landret laughed softly, and I turned to face him. The Orillon Patriarch was looking at his Heir with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

  "That was nicely done, daughter," he said, "but risky, very risky."

  "It was the only thing to do," Signe answered, but she looked pleased by the old man's praise. "We've got a little time, now."

  "I don't understand," Alkres said. He gave Landret a bitter glance. "Why bother, when you didn't stand up for me in the first place, when it might've made a difference?"

  Signe flushed, but Landret said, quite calmly, "I apologize to you, Alkres, for not being able to do more. My p
eople are fed from Orestes—from the Brandr Mandate, for the most part. I won't ask them to go hungry for you. I can't."

  It was a statement familiar from a dozen holoplays, the proper—the only possible—response. Alkres looked away. "I know," he said, and turned to me. "What do we do now, Trey?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know. At least we've got a calendar-month to work in—and at least the Kinship isn't completely bound."

  I hadn't meant as a reminder, but Alkres nodded. "Yes. Thank you, ama, and sor, for arranging that."

  Galar, flushing, shrugged one shoulder. "My girl's your age," he said. "I wouldn't want her left friendless."

  Signe smiled. "As I—as Father—said, it's a matter of duty." Alkres looked at the floor. "I'm sorry about what I said, sors, and ama. I wasn't thinking."

  I held my breath, hoping the others would understand what that speech had cost the boy, and not laugh at him. Signe's lips twitched—she had children of her own—but she said nothing. Landret said, with admirable gravity, "I accept your apology, sor, as you accepted mine."

  Alkres nodded.

  "Well, Medium," Landret went on, "you'd better start thinking what you're going to do. I have some people who might be of use to you in that—shall we meet for dinner, you and Himself?"

  I nodded, wondering just what we could do, short of armed conflict, but Alkres shook his head. "Please, sor, could we do that tomorrow? 1—I'd like to be by myself for a while." In spite of himself, his voice trembled a little.

  Landret's face softened. "Of course, forgive me. Tomorrow, then."

  "I'll have your dinner sent up to your rooms?" Signe asked, the practical words belied by the concern in her voice. Alkres nodded.

  "Shall I walk back with you?" I asked. The boy nodded again, and I gave Landret a quick look. "If you'll excuse us, sor?"

  Landret nodded. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow at dinner, then, if not before."

  I put my arm around Alkres's shoulder, drawing him away. The tunnel that led back to our tower was empty—I doubted it was ever much used—and, after a moment, I heard him sniffle softly.