First Channel s-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Rimon’s puzzlement was swept aside by the powerful tonic of Willa’s happiness. He and Kadi were caught up in the hope and joy of the people as they swirled out of the chapel singing out their strange, traditional songs, surrounding the bride and groom. Abel, in the midst of it all, was glowing almost as much as his son, happier than Rimon had ever seen him.

  Out in front of the chapel, everyone crowded around Jord and Willa again, congratulating them, respectfully asking to zlin them. As the crowd began to disperse, Dan Whelan approached Abel. “I have seen,” he said simply. “May God forgive me for doubting.”

  “God is merciful,” replied Abel. “He will understand. Will you return to us now, Dan?”

  Whelan’s tentacles flicked nervously but were instantly restrained.

  Veritt added, “Even though we believe you erred, we admire you for following the dictates of your conscience. Come back to us, Dan.”

  “Mr. Veritt, my son, Uel—knows. But he has never seen a kill. Today he saw—oh, surely he saw God’s mercy in action!”

  “He saw another witch in action!”

  Kadi jumped, startled, and five Simes near her likewise started at the surge in her field. She settled immediately as she recognized Sara Fenell.

  “No, Sara!” said Dan. “You saw it yourself—how could you think Willa a witch?”

  “Will you all be taken in? Look at these women– demons in the bodies of Gens. Rimon Farris is a sorcerer sent to steal your souls. And he’s succeeding. Look you how he has made his way into your midst, seducing your own son, Abel Veritt, with one of his succubi. Yonder stands Jon Forester—why is he not able to give selyn to someone? Not his own parents dare touch him, only Rimon Farris. And why is that?”

  “Because Rimon’s protecting me, that’s why!” said Jon. “But you come on—I’ll give you transfer right now. I’ll show you Rimon’s no sorcerer!”

  On the wave of his anger, Jon might actually have been able to do it, Rimon thought. An overpowering emotion could wipe out fear, as Kadi had found at their first transfer. But it wouldn’t sustain Jon. Abel on one side and Rimon on the other immediately pulled him back, as Sara Fenell said, “Shall I kill you to prove you are wrong, Jon? The Devil will not gain my soul so easily, although I see he has made progress toward obtaining yours.”

  She turned to the group of dissenters, who had formed a cluster between herself and Dan Whelan. “You see? This boy is being corrupted, the way Drust was corrupted. Can you not learn from my son’s experience? How many of your children must die?”

  Margid Veritt came up and put her arm around the distraught woman’s shoulders. “Sara,” she said softly, “you’re upset. Please, come with me where you can rest—”

  The other woman flung her off. “I’m not having a woman’s hysteria! As a mother, Margid, think! Jord is your son!”

  “Would you have me question what God has revealed to my husband?” asked Margid.

  “There is nothing to understand except the bare facts. Rimon Farris has not yet bent Jon to his will; he has not yet gained the boy’s soul. When he does, Jon will be like these women—a vessel for selyn, controlled by this sorcerer, and in turn used to control you and lead you to damnation.”

  By this time, Jord and Willa had moved close beside Abel. Now Jord said, “Mrs. Fenell, this is the second month I have not killed. Does that mean nothing to you? Rimon has taught Willa, who is teaching me—and while I learn, she can keep me free of the kill. Can you not envision a world in which Simes and Gens teach one another to live together in peace?”

  “No! If God had meant that, Gens would not die when Simes took selyn!”

  “But we don’t,” said Willa.

  “You see, Jord Veritt? This demon has your soul in her grasp. There’s no use talking to you. Is there no one here who can see how first the Gens are corrupted, and then used to corrupt the Simes?”

  “Sara, please,” said Abel, “won’t you stay and pray with us? We’ll listen to your objections, try to answer your questions.”

  “I listened to you, Abel Veritt, when you were on God’s true path. You taught me well, then. I shall pray for your return to the true way.”

  Once more Sara Fenell made her retreat from Fort Freedom—but this time far fewer people followed her. Rimon felt Kadi’s astonishment, but he understood. Abel Veritt had placed his faith in Rimon, and though all it seemed to bring him was grief, his faith remained unshaken. What do they want of me? Why won’t he turn to Jord now? Why won’t they all turn to Jord now? But maybe they will when they really understand what Jord and Willa are, maybe then they’ll take some of the pressure off of me.

  The ‘summer ended and the cold rains of fall began again. This time, though, Kadi was not so shut in. They had glass in the windows, and their new stove provided far more heat than the fireplace they had huddled around last winter. Zeth was a constant joy, a good baby who fussed only when there was something wrong, but whose curious black eyes soon followed everything that went on.

  They missed Willa’s help, and also the girl’s sunny personality. Jon shifted from hope to fear to anxiety to pride each time Jord or Rimon drew from him in healing mode, and he would vow that next month he’d be ready to give transfer—but each month, as he grew high-field again, his anxiety grew with it until Rimon again ruled out the attempt.

  They spent a good deal of time at Fort Freedom, but when they were home they never lacked company; if Jord and Willa were not there, it would be Del’s whole family. Both Owen and Jana learned to ride quickly and loved going places on their ponies. Owen confided, “Jana’s almost as much fun as a boy now, but I wish Zeth would grow up so we could play together.”

  “There are no boys Owen’s age at Fort Freedom,” Carlana explained, and Rimon remembered that the Fifes, who had a four-year-old son, had elected to stay with Sara Fenell in the half-empty row of houses along the creek. They had also heard that the Fife family had bought a female Gen from Slina and kept her for two months without killing her.

  “Do you think they’re trying to raise the girl to be like Willa?” Kadi asked Carlana.

  “Yes, I think that’s what they’re doing. I wanted to do it myself, but Del said no.”

  “And you just let it go at that?”

  “No, I—I talked with Mr. Veritt about Del. He said Del is right to make me take responsibility for my own decisions. And I think if I had insisted, Del would have given in. I don’t know, Kadi. If anyone can tame a wild thing and make it love him, it’s Del. But if he failed, he would hurt more than anyone else. So we’ll wait. If others succeed, I will insist.”

  That was the state of all their friends, torn between hope and fear. And from time to time, especially during the last days before a transfer, Rimon would retreat to Billy’s grave, carefully tending the plants and hedges there, the physical labor somehow easing his guilt.

  Besides the emotional turmoil, there were simple problems of survival—for the first time, Rimon and Kadi were better off than their friends at Fort Freedom. With their manpower spread thin by the schism during the growing season, their cash crops had suffered. Now they were short of funds. Dan Whelan was working hard to repair all their equipment, but he was running short of metal.

  The big argument wherever three men gathered in Fort Freedom was whether to do without the necessary metal or to break one of their most cherished principles and deal with one of the outlaw bands that raided Gen Territory for metal mined from the ruins of the Ancients. But Veritt would not yield on that point. He said there was blood on that metal—the blood of those Gens who mined it, those from whom it was stolen, and the blood of Simes who paid dearly for their raids into the heart of Gen Territory.

  Nonetheless, the Year’s Turning ceremony was a time of great celebration, as Abel detailed the progress from the year before. Two more children had established, and both had elected to stay with their families, giving their selyn to Rimon each month as Jon did. Even though both had the same problems Jon had, their presence was a
ray of hope.

  Willa seemed happy, easing Jord’s growing tension without causing him to lash out at her. Zlinning Willa, Rimon found none of that tension in her that had bothered him for so long in Kadi. Kadi had had to learn not to hide her true feelings, something it simply never occurred to Willa to do. Nonetheless, around Jord and Willa, he felt a kind of precarious stasis, as if Jord would soon face something similar to what had happened to Rimon last winter, the day of Carlana’s miscarriage. When he came through that, he’d be in control or” himself.

  Then one snowy day, as what looked like an all-day blizzard began to pile snow around their homestead, they had an unexpected visitor: Risko, the man who worked for Slina, and whom Rimon had healed the very first time he’d ever used his healing mode.

  “Rimon, we got problems at the Pens,” he explained. “What’s wrong?”

  “Slina got in a prime Gen a few weeks ago—marked as Farris stock, he is, but I told her she shoulda asked you.”

  “You think she was cheated?”

  “Worse than that. He’s sick—and it’s spreading through the Pens. We lost three already, and if we can’t stop it, well—look at the snow comin’ down. You may not need our stock, but everyone else does, and—”

  “It’s all right, Risko,” said Rimon. “I’ll come and do whatever I can. Kadi, Jon—you come along and—no, you might catch it. You go to Fort Freedom and tell Jord to come help me.”

  “Slina’s already gone to ask Abel Veritt for help,” said Risko. “We heard his son’s a healer, like you.”

  “He’ll help,” said Rimon. “Everyone in Fort Freedom who can do anything will.”

  It was not only that they needed Gens to survive; it was that they knew full well that if the Simes in the little border town were shorted, they’d have .no qualms about hunting across the border—and right across the border was the community where Fort Freedom sent their established children.

  When Rimon reached Slina’s, three wagons were just pulling away—Simes stocking up on Gens with an eye on the gathering storm. Inside, Rimon found both Abel and Jord in the office, Willa at Jord’s side.

  “Willa, it’s a Gen illness,” Rimon told her. “You mustn’t stay here—see, I didn’t even bring Kadi.”

  Jord shifted closer to his wife, his stance tense. “Willa stays with me. I say where she goes.”

  “Jord—” started Rimon.

  But Slina interrupted. “Willa had this one couple years ago. Anyways, one like to it.”

  “You know what it is, then?” asked Rimon.

  “Gotta be just a bad kind of Reloc fever.”

  “Shen!” Reloc fever had been known to wipe out whole Pens.

  Slina said, “If I can’t do somethin’ awful fast—”

  “Now calm down, Slina,” said Abel. “You’ve only had five cases, and we’ve got them isolated.”

  She glanced at him, but said to Rimon, “I picked up a bargain with a Farris brand—now, I ain’t blamin’ your dad, understand—I always did suspect it was a forgery, but it was a good buy. Big, healthy out-Territory male, and hung like a bull. Figured to expand my operation, breed the wild ‘un to some of my best stock like them fancy outfits do.”

  Rimon nodded, his mind on the problem of Reloc fever loose where Kadi might encounter it—or Zeth. “It’s not your fault, Slina. If his papers didn’t indicate he’d been through Reloc, why would you suspect anything?”

  “I did quarantine him. The day after I let him out—he falls down sick, and six days later I’ve got two pregnant females down with it, and two pre-Gens down a couple days later.”

  “Pregnant females?” asked Rimon.

  “Yeah. May as well write ‘em off as a complete loss.” Slina was gloomier than Rimon had ever seen her, but he put it down to turnover.

  “They’re worth fighting for, Slina. Once in a while, you can beat even Reloc fever.”

  “Let’s take a look at the victims,” said Veritt.

  Slina picked up her giant keys and led the way across the court yard to the small infirmary set apart from the Pens. As they walked, Rimon said, “What are you doing breeding Gens at this time of year?”

  “You think I want them delivering at this time of year?

  There’s no late winter without some kind of illness in the Pens, so I don’t want susceptible—unsellable—newborns around then.”

  Without thinking, Rimon quoted his father, “It’s cheaper to lose a newborn than a good breeder. Besides, in the infant house you can isolate them from—”

  “I can’t afford no infant house, Rimon! I—” Slina cut off, flicking a glance at Jord and Abel behind them, and Rimon became aware of the utter horror Jord was righting down, the weary but sick feeling in Abel as they listened to the calm discussion between two Gendealers. Rimon shook his head ruefully as he held the outer door open while Slina fitted her keys into the massive lock on the inner door to the infirmary.

  Inside, they found a small room with three beds. Two of the victims lay listlessly, staring at the ceiling. They were young boys, probably about to establish within the next few months. The third bed. in the room was wrapped about with a strong though murky field.

  “This must be the one,” said Rimon. The Gen was a large full-grown man who slept fitfully, turning with a soft moan as Rimon approached. There was the briefest glimpse of the diagonal notch filed in his front tooth—the mark of prime Farris stock.

  Rimon inspected the Gen, zlinned the nager, and shrugged. “He could have passed through Farris hands. He’s well muscled, and even all but unconscious, he shows a nager with bite. This one is a troublemaker. Prime kill, yes, but no good at all for breeding stock.”

  How quickly it all comes back, he thought, shocked at himself. Secretly, he was glad Kadi wasn’t here to listen– though she’d heard the like all her life.

  Slina shook her head.“‘Anytime you want a job, Rimon—”

  “Not me! I’m in the business of saving Gen lives now. But you’re doing a great job running your own outfit, Slina. Really, you are.”

  With a sigh, she twitched the covers off the Gen to display the characteristic rash of Reloc fever. “He’s been slow coming down with it,” she said. “Just showed the rash this morning.”

  Just then, the man tossed restlessly, his movement wakening the characteristic headache of the fever. Rimon and Jord winced at the pain and went into healing mode together, while Abel stepped back behind them. Slina seemed unaffected. After all, she was accustomed to Gen pain.

  The Gen’s eyes came open, fever-bright and unfocused.

  “Where—who are you?” he asked in a raspy whisper.

  Rimon had learned enough of the Gen language at Fort Freedom to answer. “I’m Rimon Farris. You’re ill, but we know how to cure you.”

  The man’s eyes slid past Rimon to the others and came into focus, memory returning. As weak as he was, he drew away from Rimon and said more clearly, “Get away from me!” The spirit was definitely there when he was awake. Prime kill—or prime transfer partner?

  Rimon moved back a step, holding his hands out, tentacles sheathed, and then putting them firmly behind his back. He watched the Gen assessing that move, but Slina said, in Simelan, “Rimon! Don’t let him think he can have his way—you know what’ll happen!”

  “Let me try this experiment,” he said. “You can always take him—he’s not going to get away from us!”

  She stood back warily and let Rimon proceed. He waited until the weakened Gen could not hold up his head anymore, and said, “We’re here to help you.”

  “For what! To get sold again? To get killed? You just try it, I’ll—” He collapsed in a coughing fit.

  Then Rimon said, “You ready to take some medicine now?”

  “No—I’d rather die. Cheat this stinkin’ place outa—” He began coughing again.

  Abel said from the back of the group, “You don’t really want to die. God doesn’t expect us to give up—you have no idea why God sent you here at this time. Tel
l him, Rimon.”

  “God!” said the Gen. “What do you know of God!”

  “We pray,” said Abel, “just as we did when we were children. Our faith is always rewarded.”

  The Gen made the effort to raise his head and focus his eyes on Abel. “Church of the Purity? Here?”

  “After our own fashion,” said Abel, with a humility Rimon had seldom seen in the older man.

  “Let me try,” said Jord, moving forward with Willa. “Look at me,” he commanded, taking Willa’s hand and holding out her arm so the man could see clearly she was Gen. “There are some of us who don’t kill, and others who are learning not to. You can be as safe here as Willa is—and Willa’s my wife.”

  “Drugged!” scoffed the Gen.

  “No,” denied Jord calmly. In Simelan, he said to Willa, “Would you like to help this man get well?”

  She nodded vigorously and said in Simelan, “Yes, Jord, what should we do?”

  The Gen wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, his arm falling heavily back to the mattress. “God, what a dream! She’s talkin’ their lingo! Won’t I ever wake up?”

  Rimon said, “His fever’s rising. We’ve got to get some fosebine into him. You do have some ready, Slina?”

  “Sure—can’t get them to drink it, though—not unless they’ve dehydrated from the fever. And I’m just not cruel enough to withhold the water that long.”

  “Get the fosebine and let me see what I can do.” He turned back to the Gen as Slina left. “You are smart enough to take medicine even though it tastes bad?”

  The Gen rolled his head on the mattress, a weak negative. Rimon was at a loss until Abel said, “Rimon, we’ve got to make him understand that we’re trying to start a whole new way of life here.”

  Zlinning, Rimon could sense how Veritt was oddly attracted to the Gen. He’s probably having visions of training him!

  Veritt wasn’t paying much attention to Rimon. He began talking to the Gen, urgently. “—and my own son no longer has to kill every month. Families aren’t being broken when the children mature. Men and women can fall in love and marry—Sime and Gen together. Rimon and my son are both married to Gens—Rimon has a son by a Gen. Don’t you see—you’ve work here, a place here, if you can survive this trial. Take the medicine—live—and join us.”