C J Cherryh - Brothers of Earth

by Brothers Of Earth [lit]

  Kurt looked up at her, for a moment lost in that dark gaze, believing as many a hearer would believe Ylith t'Erinas. Hope rose irrationally in him, on the tone of her gentle voice, her skill to reach for the greatest hopes. And good or evil, he did not know clearly which she was.

  She was not like Djan, familiar and human and wielding

  power like a general. Ylith was a methi as the office must have been: a goddess-on-earth, doing things for a goddess' reasons and with amoral morality, creating truth.

  Rewriting things as they should be.

  He felt an awe of her that he had felt of nothing mortal, believed indeed that she could erase the both of them as if they had never been. He had been within the Rhmei of Man, had been beside the fire-the skin on his arms was still painful. When Ylith spoke to him he felt the roaring silence of that fire drowning him.

  He was fevered. He was fatigued. He saw the signs in himself, and feared instead his own weakness.

  "Kta would be valuable to you," he said, "even unwilling." He felt guilty, knowing Kta's stubborn pride. "Elas was the victim of one methi; it would impress Nephane's families if another methi showed him mercy."

  "You have a certain logic on your side. And what of you? What shall I do with you?"

  "I am willing to live," he said.

  She smiled that goddess-smile at him, her eyes alone alive. "You existence is a trouble, but if I am rid of you, it will not solve matters. You would still have existed. What should I write at your death? That this day we destroyed a creature which could not possibly exist, and so restored order to the universe?"

  "Some," he said, "are urging you to do that."

  She leaned back, curling her bejeweled fingers about the carved fishes of the chair arms. "If, on the other hand, we admit you exist, then where do you exist? We have always despised the Sufaki for accepting humans and nemet as one state; herein began the heresies with which they pervert pure religion, heresies which we will not tolerate."

  "Will you kill them? That will not change them."

  "Heresy may not live. If we believed otherwise, we should deny our own religion."

  "They have not crossed the sea to trouble you."

  Ylith's hand came down sharply on the chair arm. "You are treading near the brink, human."

  Kurt bowed his head.

  "You are ignorant," she said. "This is understandable. I know of report that Djan-methi is... highly approachable. I have warned you before. I am not as she is."

  "I ask you... to listen. Just for a moment, to listen."

  "First convince me that you are wise in nemet affairs."

  He bowed his head once more, unwilling to dispute with her to no advantage.

  "What," she said after a moment, "would you have to say that is worth my time? You have my attention, briefly. Speak."

  "Methi," he said quietly, "what I would have said, were

  answers to questions your priests did not know how to ask

  me. My people are very old now, thousands and thousands

  of years of mistakes behind us that you do not have to

  make. But maybe I am wrong, maybe it is what you call

  yhia, that I have intruded where I have no business to be

  and you will not listen because you cannot listen. But I

  could tell you more than you want to hear; I could tell you

  the future, where your precious little war with Nephane

  could lead you. I could tell you that my native world does

  not exist any longer, that Djan's does not, all for a war

  grown so large and so long that it ruins whole worlds as

  yours sinks ships." /

  "You blaspheme!"

  He had begun; she wished him silent. He poured out what he had to say in a rush, though guards ran for him.

  "If you kill every last Sufaki you will still find differences to fight over. You will run out of people on this earth before you run out of differences. Methi, listen to me! You know-if you have any sense you know what I am telling you. You can listen to me or you can do the whole thing over again, and your descendants will be sitting where I am."

  Lhe had him, dragged him backward, trying to force him to stand. Ylith was on her feet, beside her chair.

  "Be silent!" Lhe hissed at him, his hard fingers clamped into Kurt's arm.

  "Take him from here," said Ylith. "Put him with t'Elas. They are both mad. Let them comfort one another in their madness."

  "Methi," Kurt cried.

  Lhe had help now. They brought him to his feet, forced him from the hall and into the corridor, where, finally, clear sense returned to him and he ceased to fight them.

  "You were so near to life," Lhe said.

  "It is all right, t'Nethim," Kurt said. "You will not be cheated."

  They went back to the upper prisons. Kurt knew the way, and, when they had come to the proper door, Lhe

  dismissed the reluctant guards out of earshot. "You are truly mad," he said, fitting the key in the lock. "Both of you. She would give t'Elas honor, which he refuses. He has attempted suicide; we had to prevent him. It was our duty to do this. He was being taken from the temple. He meant to cast himself to the pavement, but we pushed him back, so that he fell instead on the steps. We have provided comforts, which he will not use."

  He dared look Lhe in the eyes, saw both anger and trouble there. Lhe t'Nethim was asking something of him; for a moment he was not sure what, and then he thought that the Methi would not be pleased if Kta evaded her justice. Elas had once hazarded its honor and its existence on receiving a prisoner in trust, and had lost. Methi's law. Elas had risked it because of a promise unwittingly false.

  Nethim was involved; the priest had said it. The honor of Nethim was in grave danger. Both Elas and the Methi had touched it.

  The door opened. Lhe gestured him to go in, and locked the door behind him.

  There were two cots inside, and a table beneath a high barred window. Kta lay fully clothed, covered with dust and dried blood. They had brought him back the day before. In all that time they had not cared for him nor he for himself. Kurt exploded inwardly with fury at all nemet, even with Kta.

  "Kta." Kurt bent over him, and saw Kta blink and stare chillingly nothingward. There was vacancy there. Kurt did not ask consent; he went to the table where there was the usual washing bowl and urn. Clean clothes were laid there, and cloths, and a flask of telise. Lhe had not lied. It was Kta's choice.

  Kurt spread everything on the floor beside Kta's cot, unstopped the telise and slipped his arm beneath Kta's head, putting the flask to his lips.

  Kta swallowed a little of the potent liquid, choked over it and swallowed again. Kurt stopped the flask and set it aside, then soaked a cloth in water and began to wipe the mingled sweat and blood and dirt off the nemet's face. Kta shivered when the cloth touched his neck; the water was cold.

  "Kta," said Kurt, "what happened?"

  "Nothing," said the nemet, not even looking at him. "They brought... they brought me back...."

  Kurt regarded him sorrowfully. "Listen, friend, I am trying as best I know. But if you need better care, if there are things broken, tell me. They will send for it. I will ask them for it."

  "They are only scratches." The threat of outsiders seemed to lend Kta strength. He struggled to rise, leaning on an elbow that was painfully torn. Kurt helped him. The telise was having effect; although the sense of well-being would be brief, Kta did not move as if he was seriously hurt. Kurt put a pillow into place at the corner of the wall, and Kta leaned back on it with a grimace and a sigh, looked down at his badly lacerated knee and shin, flexed the knee experimentally.

  "I fell," Kta said.

  "So I heard." Kurt refolded the stained cloth and started blotting at the dirt on the injured knee.

  It needed some time to clean the day-old injuries, and necessarily it hurt. From time to time Kurt insisted Kta take a sip of telise, though it was only toward the end that Kta evidenced any great discomfort. Thr
ough it all Kta spoke little. When the injuries were clean and there was nothing more to be done, Kurt sat and looked at him helplessly. In Kta's face the fatigue was evident. It seemed far more than sleeplessness or wounds, something inward and deadly.

  Kurt settled him flat again with a pillow under his head. Considering that he himself had been without sleep the better part of three days, he thought that weariness might be a major part of it, but Kta's eyes were fixed again on infinity.

  "Kta."

  The nemet did not respond and Kurt shook him. Kta did no more than blink.

  "Kta, you heard me and I know it. Stop this and look at me. Who are you punishing? Me?"

  There was no response, and Kurt struck Kta's face lightly, then enough that it would sting. Kta's lips trembled and Kurt looked at him in instant remorse, for it was as if he had added the little burden more than the nemet could bear. The threatened collapse terrified him.

  Tired beyond endurance, Kurt sank down on his heels and looked at Kta helplessly. He wanted to go over to his own cot and sleep; he could not think any longer, except that Kta wanted to die and that he did not know what to do.

  "Kurt." The voice was weak, so distant Kta's lips hardly seemed to move.

  "Tell me how to help you."

  Kta blinked, turned his head, seeming for the moment to have his mind focused. "Kurt, my friend, they..."

  "What have they done, Kta? What did they do?"

  "They want my help and... if I will not... I lose my life, my soul. She will curse me from the earth... to the old gods... the-" He choked, shut his eyes and forced a calm over himself that was more like Kta. "I am afraid, my friend, mortally afraid. For all eternity. But how can I do what she asks?"

  "What difference can your help make against Nephane?" Kurt asked. "Man, what pitiful little difference can it make one way or the other? Djan has weapons enough; Ylith has ships enough. Let others settle it. What are you? She has offered you life and your freedom, and that is better than you had of Djan,"

  "I could not accept Djan-methi's conditions either."

  "Is it worth this, Kta? Look at you! Look at you, and tell me it is worth it. Listen, I would not blame you. All Nephane knows how you were treated there. Who in Nephane would blame you if you turned to Indresul?"

  "I will not hear your arguments," Kta cried.

  "They are sensible." Kurt seized his arm and kept him from turning his face to the wall again. "They are sensible arguments, Kta, and you know it."

  "I do not understand reason any longer. The temple and the Methi will condemn my soul for doing what I know is right. Kurt, I could understand dying, but this... this is not justice. How can a reasonable heaven put a man to a choice like this?"

  "Just do what they want, Kta. It doesn't cost anyone much, and if you are only alive, you can worry about the right and the wrong of it later."

  "I should have died with my ship," the nemet murmured. "That is where I was wrong. Heaven gave me the chance to die: in Nephane, in the camp of the Tamurlin, with Tavi. I would have peace and honor then. But there was always you. You are the disruption in my fate. Or its agent. You are always there, to make the difference."

  Kurt found his hand trembling as he adjusted the blanket over the raving nemet, trying to soothe him, taking for nothing the words that hurt. "Please," he said. "Rest, Kta."

  "Not your fault. It is possible to reason.... One must always reason... to know..."

  "Be still."

  "If," Kta persisted with fevered intensity, "if I had died

  in Nephane with my father, then my friends, my crew, would have avenged me. Is that not so?"

  "Yes," Kurt conceded, reckoning the temper of men like Val and Tkel and their company. "Yes, they would have killed Shan t'Tefur."

  "And that," said Kta, "would have cast Nephane into chaos, and they would have died, and come to join Elas in the shadows. Now they are dead-as they would have died-but I am alive. Now I, Elas-"

  "Rest. Stop this."

  "Elas was shaped to the ruin of Nephane, to bring down the city in its fall. I am the last of Elas. If I had died before this I would have died innocent of my city's blood, and mine would have been on Djan-methi's hands. Then my soul would have had rest with theirs, whatever became of Nephane. Instead, I lived... and for that I deserve to be where I am."

  "Kta, hush. Sleep. You have a belly full of telise and no food to settle it. It has unbalanced your mind. Please. Rest."

  "It is true," said Kta, "I was born to ruin my people. It is just... what they try to make me do."

  "Blame me for it," said Kurt. "I had rather hear that than this sick rambling. Answer me what I am, or admit that you cannot foretell the future."

  "It is logical," said Kta, "that human fate brought you here to deal with human fate."

  "You are drunk, Kta."

  "You came for Djan-methi," said Kta. "You are for her."

  Kta's dark eyes closed, rolled back helplessly. Kurt moved at last, realizing the knot at his belly, the sickly gathering of fear, dread of Guardians and Ancestors and the nemet's reasoning.

  Kta at last slept. For a long time Kurt stood staring down at him, then went to his own side of the room and lay down on the cot, not to sleep, not daring to, only to rest his aching back. He feared to leave Kta unwatched, but at some time Ms eyes grew heavy, and he closed them only for a moment.

  He jerked awake, panicked by a sound and simultaneously by the realization that he had slept.

  The room was almost in darkness, but the faintest light came from the barred window ever the table. Kta was on his feet, naked despite the chill, and had set the water bucket on the table, standing where a channel in the stone floor made a drain beneath the wall, beginning to wash himself.

  Kurt looked to the window, amazed to find the light was that of dawn. That Kta had become concerned about his appearance seemed a good sign. Methodically Kta dipped up water and washed, and when he had done what he could by that means, he took the bucket and poured water slowly over himself, letting it complete the task.

  Then he returned to his cot and wrapped in the blanket He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Gradually he slipped into the state of meditation and rested unmoving, the morning sun beginning to bring detail to his face. He looked at peace, and remained so for about half an hour.

  The day broke full, a shaft of light finding its way through the barred window. Kurt stirred himself and straightened the clothing that his restless sleeping had twisted in knots.

  Kta rose and dressed also, in his own hard-used clothing, refusing the Methi's gifts. He looked in Kurt's direction with a bleak and yet reassuring smile.

  "Are you all right?" Kurt asked him.

  "Well enough, considering," said Kta. "It comes to me that I said things I would not have said."

  "It was the telise. I do not take them for intended."

  "I honor you," said Kta, "as my brother."

  "You know," said Kurt, "that I honor you in the same way."

  He thought that Kta had spoken as he did because there were hurrying footsteps in the hall. He made haste to answer, for fear that it would pass unsaid. He wanted above all that Kta understand it.

  The steps reached their door. A key turned in the lock.

  XX

  THIS TIME IT was not Lhe who had charge of them, but another man with' strangers around him. They were taken not to the rhmei, but out of the fortress.

  When they came into the courtyard and turned not toward the temple again, but toward the outer gate of the Indume complex, Kta cast Kurt a frightened glance that carried an unwilling understanding.

  "We are bound for the harbor," he said.

  "Those are our orders," said the captain of the detachment, "since the Methi is there and the fleet is sailing. Move on, , t'Elas, or will you be taken through the streets in chains?" ! Kta's head came up. For the least moment the look of Nym ! t'Elas flared in his dark eyes. "What is your name?"

  The guard looked suddenly regr
etful of his words. "Speak me no curse, t'Elas. I repeated the Methi's words. She did not think chains necessary."

  "No," said Kta, "they are not necessary."

  He bowed his head again and matched pace with the guards, Kurt beside him. The nemet was a pitiable figure in the hard, uncompromising light of day, his clothing filthy, his face unshaved-which in the nemet needed a long time to show.