Sheri Tepper - Singer From The Sea

by Singer From The Sea(Lit)

  "Hail the Voice of Prophecy, the Tongue of the Lord, the Teeth of the Scripture, the Word of God," intoned the minister, his mouth a finger's width from the floor.

  "He who is recognizes you," said the Shah, staring across the Saelan's bent form at the far wall.

  "I bask in the light of your gaze, O Divine Master. I prostrate-"

  The Shah smiled grimly. "Enough prostration, Saelan. So? Are our guests well? Are they contented?"

  The minister took a deep breath and spoke the truth. "Prince Delganor's delegation from Haven is seemingly quite contented, Exalted One."

  His Effulgence stopped looking at the wall and stared directly at his minister. "Contented without water?"

  "They have water, Exalted One."

  "Water! Where did they get water?"

  "I do not know, Shining One. Perhaps they brought it with them."

  One of the Sworn Ones at the side of the throne shook his head slightly. The Sworn Ones had computed the bulk of the grav-sleds, and they would have known if any appreciable amount of water had been brought onto Mahahm.

  "They did not bring it with them," said His Effulgence.

  "Then I am at a loss, sire."

  "Find out, find out," said Arghad to the two Sworn Ones, who slipped silently away from the throne to be replaced by two others, as alike as sand ripples on a dune. The Sworn Ones were all of one family, a lineage that had served the Shah for generations. Its members resembled one another, they thought alike, they balked at nothing, so long as the Shah commanded it.

  The Shah beckoned to Saelan, who crept up the seven steps to the throne and knelt on a thin cushion on the top step, the Shah's indulgence to an aged and loyal servant.

  "You're saying the Prince and his entourage are not uncomfortable enough to go away," said the Shah.

  "They seem prepared to stay for some time, Effulgent One."

  "Do they have women?"

  "I saw no women. I saw no signs of women. I did see quite a few men, though no faces. They seem determined to regard us as unclean. I am told they have a religious functionary with them. One Rongor."

  The Shah frowned in a puzzled manner. "A heretic, you mean. The Prince didn't bring candidates, then?"

  "I cannot say, Exalted One."

  "Why did he not take our warning when he arrived? By the devils of the deep, Saelan, we made it clear they were unwelcome. Did he assume we had given him a dry and empty house by accident?"

  "It is evident that Prince Delganor did not recognize it as a warning, Exalted One. As an expression of displeasure, no doubt, but not as a warning. So our malghaste spies say."

  "Then he is a fool."

  "As are all who do not look upon the glory of thy face, Master."

  "I know he brought women! He wouldn't have wasted the trip. He had to bring at least one! And he should have followed our custom. Any women should have been given to us the moment they arrived. Such is our agreement with Haven! Why do we provide P'naki otherwise?"

  "As Your Mightiness says. Several of those in the Prince's group are strangers to us, however. They are people ignorant of Mahahm, uninformed about our relationship with the Lord Paramount of Haven, unenlightened as to our Divine Purpose on this world. They are people who might take offense at giving us the women, and they may have power back in Haven."

  "Then why did the Prince bring such people?"

  "Perhaps he had no choice. Perhaps the Lord Paramount ordered it. So, the Prince may have decided not to try both things at once. Perhaps he has decided to talk about increasing P'naki first, then later he will return for the other. We know he values us greatly. As does the Lord Paramount of Haven."

  "He would have brought women anyway," said the Shah, loftily. "Just in case. He is that kind. And, barring accident, they are probably still here, with their babies."

  "They may be. Though our spies do not say so."

  "Very well. We want the women and babies now. The Frangian boat arrived yesterday, bringing several candidates, some provided by traders, to curry our favor. The Time of Renewal is upon us. These arghaste cannot be allowed to interfere with it. If the men will not leave the house because of discomfort, let them leave for something else. An invitation, perhaps.

  And we will find out whether there are women by making an invitation to the women themselves!"

  The minister's eyes opened wide in shocked surprise. He stuttered as he said, "An invit... t... tation, Great One? There is only one invitation suitable for foreign women, for evighaste..."

  "We must think of another that is suitable. We need to learn who has come with the Prince. The Prince's aide, perhaps. He has one?"

  "There is an old one called the Marshal. There is a lesser one by name of Aufors."

  The Shah leaned back on the cushions of the high throne. "Ah, that gives me a better thought. Suppose you tell them we have had a cleansing ceremony that allows us to meet. Invite the Prince and this Marshal and this Aufors, along with the man of religion, to take a tour of the marketplace. Buy them each a seabone dagger as a gift from me. The Prince knows the meaning that lies in the gift of a knife. He will understand the gift if the others don't. Take your time. Cultivate them. Smile. Chat. Take them to the teahouse. Tell them if they have women with them, the women are invited to walk in the garden with my wives..."

  "Your Effulgence!" the minister cried in surprise.

  "Why not? The arghast evighaste, if there are any, were brought here as candidates. I have Mahahmbi evighaste who are also candidates. The ones from outside can walk with my own, for among candidates there is no true foreign presence. When the women have walked with my wives and returned without harm, invite the religious man and the Prince and the Aufors man to go hunting for argivers, in the desert. Roast argiver is a dish all visitors should taste. Tell them tales of Galul. Lull them."

  "As the Great One wishes."

  "Take no others, only those three, then see that this lesser assistant, this Aufors, meets a useful death before the eyes of the Prince and the so-called religious. The Prince may misinterpret a dry house, he may ignore the gift of a blade, but he will not misinterpret the blood of his own man when it is shed before his eyes! He will realize then that we know he brought women, that we know they were not given to us as agreed. Then he will pay attention and forget this nonsense about the P'naki. The religious man will also change his thoughts. When they have stopped being foolish, the Prince may take part in the ritual."

  "As Your Effulgence wishes, Great One."

  The Shah smiled and quoted from scripture: "Some things may not be changed, for they are as they are, as was willed, as is so. Amen."

  "Amen," murmured Ybon Saelan.

  That night, Genevieve heard Awhero sing of the escape of Tenopia. Tenopia had been disobedient: she had eaten with the malghaste, she had danced with the wizards of the winds, and at last the Shah had imprisoned her for these offenses and sentenced her to "a certain kind of death." Awhero's chant detailed Tenopia's escape from her prison and her flight into the southland, toward Galul. This last journey was fraught with difficulty, for all the Shah's men were hunting her as she fled without food or water, into the heat of the desert.

  "... comes third day," sang Awhero, "she hears sky-hunters screaming. Wind-wizards she calls upon, to eat sand-tracks behind her. Wind-wizards she calls upon, to breathe her scent north to sea. Lo, as evening comes, banner of Marae te Morehu licks green against gray sky. Great door hears her hand, knocking with stones. Great door gives her entry, haeremai, for she is one of them, speaking with voices of deep, nga tumau hohonu."

  The other old women raised their voices in chorus:

  "Did not Tenopia know day to come, hour to strike, time for deep-friends to stand forth?"

  They rocked back and forth, smiling. Awhero leaned forward, taking Genevieve's hands for the first time in her own, commanding: "Now, sing it with me, arghaste woman."

  Genevieve, half-hypnotized by the drumming and the swaying of their many bodies did not even thi
nk about it. This was a cellar, like that other cellar. Though it was without the deep pools that lay beneath the foundations of Langmarsh House, it smelled the same, it resonated in the same way. She was commanded to sing, as she had been commanded before so she sang with Awhero, clearly where she could, la-la-ing where she could not remember the words, her voice stronger than all of theirs together, her song making the stones shake. Once through the song, and then again, this time remembering almost all of it. When she finished, tears were streaming down her face and she sobbed into her hands.

  "You sang well!" exulted Awhero. "Why are you crying?"

  "It reminds me of singing with my mother. And the words, tumao hohonu, I have read them in the stories of Stephanie."

  "Ah, you say Stephanie, we say Tewhani. That is how we say her name, daughter of Tenopia, mother of many daughters. You are one. Your voice is beautiful. It is unmistakable that you are of kindred."

  "What kindred?"

  "The kindred of Galul."

  "What do you mean? Kindred of Galul?"

  "Where long-nosed women are. The children of sea, sisters of deep-swimmers. Those who knew Tenopia before she went unto Mahahm, those who sent her daughter Stephanie-Tewhani-forth into Haven. Oh, we will teach you that song next time!"

  "Now, tonight," Genevieve cried heedlessly, wiping her eyes. "Stephanie was my ancestress. Oh, Awhero, I need to know tonight!"

  Awhero shook her head. "No. Not now. We are weary, and so are you. Tomorrow will be soon enough."

  Sobered, Genevieve assented. "But I need to know, where... where my mother's people came from. I need to know." She caught herself, taking a deep, sobbing breath. "Oh, what am I doing! I sang out loud! If Prince Delganor heard me! If Father heard me!"

  "They did not hear you." Awhero smiled. "We have all doors shut between here and there. They do not listen, they do not hear, and tomorrow we will sing songs of your people who came from Tenopia's womb."

  "I'm not supposed to sing!" Genevieve cried.

  "We know," said Awhero. "Haven women have been here before, women with their babies, and they have never sung, not even lullabies to their children. They have come, women and children, children have stayed, some, some have gone, all women have stayed, somewhere..." Her voice trailed away, then rallied.

  "We are surprised that you sing so well!"

  "My mother taught me," said Genevieve. "Deep in the cellars of our house, like here." She flushed, remembering other things she had been taught, as well. Things she could not do here.

  "Well, time is coming when women must come up from cellars. Those at marae say it is time, and past time."

  "Tomorrow then," said Genevieve.

  "Soon," said Awhero.

  Genevieve was still sleeping when Ybon Saelan came to the residence, this time to invite the Prince, the Marshal, the Invigilator, and the Colonel to join the Shah's representative on a tour through Mahahm-qum. A cleansing ceremony had been held. They were no longer unclean.

  Aufors came to tell Genevieve about this breakthrough, then the four men went forth under sunshades carried by runners. When they returned bearing gifts from the Shah, the Marshal seemed to think the event marked a definite advance, though the Prince only smiled his cold, distant smile, without acknowledging any improvement in affairs. Still, there was a certain amount of jocularity at dinner as the gifts were passed around: curved knives with hilts of a substance no one among them had recognized.

  "Seabone," said Genevieve when it came to her hand, seeing superimposed visions of men chopping bone on the shore, of other men carving it.

  The Prince actually looked her, or glared, rather. "How do you know that?"

  She flushed, rumbled, "Something I read, Your Highness. The Ma-hahmbi make dagger hilts from the skeletons of great seabeasts washed up on the shores." She was disturbed by this. Something about the picture was awry. Something about it didn't feel right, even more so when the Marshal sought her out later to give her astonishing news. The Shah had sent word that any women in their party were invited to walk with the Shah's wives in their garden. Special shoes had been provided which would mitigate the uncleanliness associated with non-Mahahmbi footsteps in so sacred a place.

  "Did you tell them I was here?" asked Genevieve.

  "Oh, yes," said the Marshal, not meeting her eyes. "A harpta will come for you in the morning."

  Later, when she and Aufors were alone, she asked, "Who exactly told the Shah I was here?"

  "The Prince," he said with a grimace. "What he actually said was that I had brought my wife along. If he hadn't, your father would have. I was more than a little surprised, and I wish they had kept quiet about that."

  At bedtime, she examined the sandals they had sent. Thick-soled, to keep the feet from the heat of the sand. Lettered all around the soles with unintelligible phrases, and with a rather rank smell, as though the leather were badly tanned. Aufors walked with her up and down the balcony as she tried them out. The smell was off-putting, but wearing them was bearable.

  The baby did not wake her in the night, but he wakened very early in the morning, before it was light. Genevieve carried him down to the kitchen and found Awhero standing in the door to the lower stairs.

  "Is it true?" Awhero asked. "You go to walk with Shah's wives?"

  "So they tell me," Genevieve answered.

  Awhero croaked. "Oh, lady, I do not like it."

  Genevieve didn't like it either. She made a face. "What could go wrong with it, Awhero? If I keep my tongue on leash."

  "They will not speak so you can understand. Women of Mahahmbi speak woman's language, so as not to soil men's language on their dirty tongues. We Malghaste, we seldom speak where Mahahmbi can hear us, so what words we say are not relevant. High-caste women, they do speak before men, so they have their own tongue. Now, it is true that they hear men speaking, and they pick up language, so they may understand you. You can try, but oh, keep to simple things. How hot is sun. How green are trees of garden. How bright flowers. How grateful you are to join them there."

  "Perhaps I can explain to them why we are here, so they can tell the Shah..."

  Awhero cackled with laughter, echoed by the dozen or so of the cousins and aunts who straggled down the stairs behind her, listening. "Oh, lady, lady. Women of Mahahmbi do not speak to men at all. They are allowed to say two words in men's language: abn, which means yes, or asfa, which means at once. It would be disrespectful to say anything else. Most you can hope for is that they might talk of what you say where men might overhear them, and even then men would pretend not to understand." She shook her head, making a grinding sound with her teeth. "Wait here. I have gift for you."

  She went off down the stairs, returning in moments with a soft white robe, holding it up to show that it would cover Genevieve from head to toe.

  "Under your outer robe," Awhero said. "Wear this. And do not let any of your skin show on street."

  "Why, Awhero? I have clothes."

  "Not like this. I tell you, wear it. Remember that she who shows skin on street may be executed for being whore, so do not give them excuse. This is like robe Tenopia wore, when her Shah planned evil, woven from seed bolls of same plant, trimmed around hem with her words to wizards of winds. I think there is evil coming, so wear it."

  When Aufors heard what Awhero had to say about the invitation, he scowled. Though she had said nothing about the old woman to anyone else, Genevieve had told Aufors about her conversations in the cellars, and he, after a spasm of concern over the impropriety of it all, had promised he would keep it a secret. Since then he had eagerly sought the malghaste point of view to enlighten his own understanding of the Mahahmbi.

  "This mission of ours seems to be to make one miscalculation after another," he muttered. "Wouldn't you think the Prince would have been better informed than to expect the Shah's women to speak for us?"

  "I think that was Father's idea," she replied. "1 think he came up with that one all by himself, and I haven't a clue as to what the Princ
e knows or doesn't know."

  In the morning, a harpta was led to the door by half a dozen handlers. Aufors stalked on one side of her as the lizard lurched on the other, its stout body bending from side to side as it walked on splayed feet, its fin sometimes shading her and sometimes not. It had an evil, rotten smell. The edges of its scales were like knives. If one were bumped by a harpta, one could be badly cut or scraped. Genevieve was bumped, but Awhero's soft robe saved her from any serious discomfort.