They were given no food at first light. More people were led outside, to return with packs and mats. Dyami was aching with weariness by the time Jonah's people began to summon those who lived in the shacks along the creeks. He, Amina, and Tasida were the last to be brought outside.
The tents in the hollow around the dining hall had been taken down. Jonah was standing near a cart heaped with various items; Dyami could see a few microdot library holders, graphic compositors, personal ornaments, and several pocket screens.
Jonah came toward them with five of his men. “I'll accompany these three myself,” he said, then glanced at his screen. “Dyami Liang-Talis. Yes, here's your image, hard as that is to believe. What a burden it must be for the Guide, having a brother like you. Don't think that relationship will earn you any special privileges. And you two must be Amina Astarte and Tasida Getran.” He looked up. “Amina Astarte. Unusual name—easy to remember. There are a few volunteers here from ibn-Qurrah who spotted your name on the list. Not much escapes the patrol's notice. They'd heard some unpleasant things about you and certain of your female acquaintances there, but you'll be making a new start now.”
Dyami moved closer to the women; one of the men prodded him in the back. “Let's go,” Jonah said.
They followed him toward the creek. Another cart had been driven up to the bank. On top of one of the seats, Dyami saw a sculpture he had cast for Willis Soran, one of the young men who lived in a shack near his. The group halted in front of Dyami's shack. “Which of you lives here?” Jonah asked.
“I do,” Dyami said.
“Then you two must share the other.” Jonah looked toward the shack next to Dyami's, then back at the two women. Tasida's freckled face was very pale; Amina's blue eyes were angry; “Kind of close quarters. But maybe you two like it that way.” His lip curled. “I'll tell you what I've told some of your friends. There won't be any more offenses to the Spirit practiced here. Any of us might enter your new residence at any time, and if we see anything we shouldn't, you'll be very sorry.” He turned to Dyami. “Let's see what you've got.”
Dyami went inside as three of the men pushed the women toward their shack. Even with the light outside, the room was still dark; he bent to turn on his light globe. “I haven't got much,” he said, “just a pocket screen and a few books on microdot, and my mat and clothes, of course.” He straightened as Jonah came inside. “You see, I have learned something from my dear sister about how meaningless possessions are.”
The stocky man scowled. “Don't mock the Guide. You won't be needing the books or the screen.”
“What about messages?” Dyami asked, although he could already guess the kind of answer he would get. “I do send them when I can, and the people I know will surely be sending more to me. They might wonder if they don't hear from me.”
“Whether you get to view any of your messages is going to depend on how you conduct yourself. If you behave, you'll be allowed to view them in the presence of one of my volunteers, and even to send one if we choose. One of us will be with you when you do. We must try to free ourselves from the temptation to keep secrets.”
Dyami sighed. There were screens in the south dome's installations, but he was sure they would all be watched while they were at their work. His last link with the outside was gone. He trembled a little, then tried to steady himself. If Risa did not hear from him in the next two weeks, she would know that something was wrong. He had to hope she could find a way to help him.
The other two men came inside. One of them pulled aside the curtain concealing the place where Dyami slept, then stooped to pick up a metal object next to the mat. “What's this?” the man said.
Dyami felt the blood drain from his face. The man was holding a sculpture he had cast of Balin. He had given the bust to his lover but had kept this piece for himself, one he had made only a little while before the Habbers were told to leave. The sculpture showed a nude Balin in repose, his head resting on one hand, his other arm draped over one raised knee.
Jonah reached for the sculpture. “Our friend here's quite artistic. We found some of his work in a few other residences. I asked who had made the stuff.” He hefted the image of Balin, then looked up. “I assume you made this one.”
“Yes,” Dyami managed to say.
“Who is it? I don't recall seeing anyone here who looks quite like that.”
“It's one of the Habbers.” He might as well admit that now; Jonah could find it out from anyone here.
“A Habber? Did you use your imagination, or did you have him pose like that?”
“It's hardly unusual, doing a nude.” Dyami struggled against the fear that was rising inside him.
“Hardly unusual? Having a man take off his clothes for you? Having a Habber strip so that you can make a nice image of him?” Jonah peered at the sculpture. “He looks well equipped. Maybe you liked seeing that.”
One of the other men laughed. “Get your clothes and your mat,” Jonah said. “You won't be needing this.”
Dyami gathered his few clothes quickly and put them into his pack, then rolled up his mat. He followed Jonah outside; the other two men were walking toward the cart with his screen and the sculpture.
Amina was standing on the bank, her pack on her back. “Please,” he heard her say to the dark-haired man standing near her, “surely you can let me keep that. It was a gift.”
The man lifted his hands. He was holding a delicate crystalline globe on which the stars in this region of the galaxy were represented by tiny gemlike points and clusters. “Who gave it to you?” he asked. “It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen.”
Amina was silent.
“I'll bet it came from a Habber. It did, didn't it? I don't see what use you have for anything like that.” The man lifted the globe, then hurled it toward the creek. The crystal shattered against a rock; glinting shards pierced the water.
Twenty-nine
Eva Danas greeted Risa at the door. Risa had expected the usual courteous and cool greeting, but the blond woman seemed genuinely happy to see her. “It's been a while,” Eva said as she clasped Risa's hands. “Chimene will be delighted to see you.”
Risa was not so sure about that. Chimene had returned to Oberg almost three weeks ago, and it had taken that long to arrange this visit. Risa had left several messages, only to get brief responses from either Matthew or Boaz: The Guide is resting from her journey; she's preparing a speech; she's having a conference with the Council; she's counseling a brother or sister; she's conferring with members of the fellowship in other settlements over the screen. She had expected a similar answer this time, but Eva had called back to say that Chimene would welcome a visit.
“I'm pleased she was able to make some time for me,” Risa said. “Boaz and Matthew had led me to think she might not really want to see me.”
“My brothers are sometimes a bit too solicitous.” Eva's eyes narrowed; her expression was a little colder. “Anyway, they're not home at the moment.” She released Risa's hands. “When Chimene heard you wanted to see her, she was quite anxious that I call you back. She's with some students now—Lakshmi Tiris and a few of her young friends—but they should be just about finished with their instruction.”
Risa had heard about Lakshmi, the girl who had come to live in this house. “Well, I'd better go to her room.”
“Oh, she isn't in her room. There's a place outside where she likes to go lately. I'll take you to her.”
Eva turned to her right and led Risa down one corridor. The doors to all the rooms were open, as they often were whenever someone was visiting. She glanced into Chimene's room and noticed that several new garments were hanging on the clothes rod; for a woman who owned nothing, her daughter certainly did not lack for things to wear. The exit opened; she followed Eva through the trees bordering the house until they came to a small clearing in back of the dwelling.
Chimene was seated on a reclining chair in the center of the grassy circle; a screen rested on her lap. She
wore a long red robe; a shiny black stone hung from a pendant around her neck. Her shoes were only thin soles with slender straps, useless for walking, no more than ornaments for her feet. Lakshmi Tiris and several other children sat on the ground, gazing intently at the Guide. Teaching was what Chimene called it, the process of filling the heads of these children with Ishtar's twisted reasoning and tales of the world to come.
“Greetings, Mother,” Chimene murmured. Risa winced a bit at this expression; its formality only seemed to increase the distance between her and her child. “Lakshmi, you and the others may go into the house with Eva, and she'll give you all a treat. I must visit with my mother now.”
The children got to their feet. The beautiful dark-haired girl with the long braid had to be Lakshmi Tiris; she already had some of Chimene's poise. “I'm so pleased to meet you,” the girl said. “The Guide was telling us all about your mother Iris today and how she gave up her life for Venus. It's one of my favorite stories.”
“Indeed.” Risa's mouth twitched. Chimene often invoked Iris's memory, making it seem as though her ancestor would have sanctioned the Guide's aims.
Eva beckoned to the children. “Come along now.” She led them toward the house. Risa gazed after them; she had heard all the rumors about Lakshmi. She was like a daughter to the Guide; some claimed that she might eventually become the Guide herself. Chimene would be filling the girl's head with dreams of her destiny, as Kichi Timsen had done with her.
“Do sit down,” Chimene said. Risa seated herself near the chair, feeling at a slight disadvantage as she looked up at Chimene. The younger woman was thinner, as if she were still recovering from the rigors of the tour of the other settlements. Any other woman would have looked too drawn or unattractively bony. Chimene only seemed more beautiful; she was a fragile object one might want to treasure, a being so perfect that she hardly belonged in this world.
Risa could barely glimpse the house through the trees. They might have been in the middle of a forest on a garden world. “I enjoy coming here,” Chimene said. “It was Boaz's idea, clearing this little spot, and a few of the fellowship donated their labor to do so. I've spent many happy hours here lately. One can feel so enclosed—by rooms, by walls, by the domes around us.”
“I suppose it's refreshing after your tour.”
“I enjoyed seeing so many of my sisters and brothers, but I'll confess that it was tiring.”
Risa tilted her head. “Some say the tour seemed as much Boaz's as yours. A few even say that he sees himself as your Guide.”
“He's closest to me. There are no barriers between us, and I've chosen him to be the father of the child I'll have someday. The Spirit has often spoken to me through his lips.”
“And he loves you,” Risa said.
“Of course.”
“And you love him.”
“As I love all my brothers.” Chimene fingered the stone at her neck. “Did you come here to speak of Boaz? Has your heart finally warmed a little to him? It would give me such pleasure if my mother and the man who will give her a grandchild were friends.”
“I came here about another matter,” Risa responded. “My thoughts have been very troubled lately. I hope you'll listen to what I have to say.”
“But I always do.”
“No, you don't. You let me talk, and then you dismiss me from your mind. Let me speak plainly. I'm appealing to you not only as your mother but as a citizen who knows you have the power to help me, and I also have your own interests at heart.”
Chimene turned her head toward Risa. “What is it?”
“I'm very concerned about Dyami. I haven't had a message from him for nearly two months, and that isn't like him. I've sent him messages, and he never replies.”
“I don't see why you're worrying about that. There's more work to do in Turing now, and Boaz tells me that the new people there think it's best not to have too frequent an exchange of messages or conversations with people outside Turing. Some of the people in Turing have unreasonable resentments against us, even though all we're doing is showing them where their duty lies. At the moment, some of them would be tempted to spread discord here. When they come to accept their situation, they'll be free to send whatever messages they like.”
“Chimene, I found out about the kind of people who were sent there,” Risa said, “permanent members of the patrol and volunteer members who generally have a reputation for being a little too quick to impose their authority on others. I've called up the names, and I've asked a few people in the other settlements about those who were sent to Turing from their domes. They're the same kind of people, and I don't like the idea of their being up in Turing with little to control them.”
“They're my brothers and sisters,” Chimene responded calmly. “They'll do nothing of which I wouldn't approve. Unfortunately, some of the people in that settlement need a firmer hand—they were among Habbers too long and deprived of our guidance. But Boaz assures me—”
“Listen to me, daughter. I'm not the only one who's worried. This isn't like detaining someone who's committed a violent crime—it isn't even like depriving several Linkers of their Links and shutting them up somewhere. People can let that pass and tell themselves that Sigurd and his allies are only paying a price for letting Islanders leave with the Habbers, and that there's some justice in that. But the men and women in Turing have families and friends here, all of whom are going to be worrying about them. Do you really want all those people to be wondering about how their loved ones are faring? They might begin to question your judgment, even those who believe in you.”
“I'm telling you that there's nothing to worry about.”
Risa gazed into her daughter's face. Chimene seemed sincere; her dark eyes were filled with compassion, yet it seemed that her daughter was looking at her from the center of a complex web. “A few pilots are talking,” Risa said. “They're saying that recently, whenever they deliver anything to Turing, they're asked to stay in the bay. They sleep aboard their airships before they leave, and there are always a few members of the patrol inside the bay while they're there. They never see the six pilots who are stationed there permanently, and any of the people who help them unload their cargo seem afraid to talk to them. It makes them wonder if there's something to hide.”
“Foolishness,” Chimene said. “The pilots were never terribly eager to mingle much with the people in Turing before, and surely there's no reason for them to do so now. As I told you, some of those people wouldn't be above spreading false tales in an effort to sow discontent. Boaz tells me that when things are more settled—”
“I'm tired of hearing what Boaz says. Maybe he doesn't tell you everything and thinks that you'd restrain him more if he did. Aren't you concerned about Dyami? Don't you care what happens to him?”
“I care very much.”
“Then do something!”
“There's nothing else to do.” Chimene swung her feet to the side of the long chair and sat up. “I'm afraid you simply don't understand what Turing has to be now—a place where people must be brought to remember their obligations. You have no idea what some of them have done—plotting with Habbers against us, engaging in every manner of offense against the Spirit. It pains me that Dyami is among them, but I can't put my feelings for him above my duty to others or, for that matter, above my true duty to him. He will come to repent of his actions, and then—”
“What could he possibly have done?” Risa cried.
“He has offended Ishtar,” Chimene replied. “I'll be blunt—he's gone to the beds of other men. You may not be a believer, but even you must be repelled by such actions, which pervert and degrade the act of love that binds us to nature.”
Risa said, “Someone's been telling you lies.”
“Oh, no. There's no doubt of it—I've heard about his deeds from a witness. Dyami admitted what he was to him.”
Chimene was telling the truth. Oddly enough, Risa did not feel surprised at realizing that, or as sorrowful as she m
ight once have been; she was only more afraid for her son. He couldn't come to me, she thought; he kept his secret all this time. How fearful and lonely he must have been.
“You see why we must be firm with him and the others of his kind,” Chimene continued. “We have to rid them of that evil. I'm sorry that I had to tell you this. When I first learned what my brother was, I wanted to hide it from everyone, convince myself it wasn't true. But I won't hide the truth any longer. If others happen to learn what those people in Turing really are, they won't be so concerned about them. They'll know we have to free them of what's inside them.” She leaned forward. “You don't seem terribly shocked. Maybe you knew what Dyami was all along.”
“No, I didn't know.”
“You see why I must show my love by bringing such people to give up their offenses.”
“Oh, yes.” Risa took a breath; she had thought she might still be able to reach her daughter. Now she saw that no mercy remained inside Chimene. Very well, she thought; this would make her task easier. She would no longer have to be troubled by guilt while working against the Guide's ambitions. “I know why you have to force them to change. You and those creatures around you can't bear the thought that there are things you can't control, that there are parts of people over which you have no power. You won't settle for power over what we do or think—you'd control our deepest feelings as well. You're not grieving over those people because they offend your Spirit—you're angry with them because their most intimate acts defy you and the power you seek over them. They're a sign that they still claim some freedom for themselves.”
Chimene's cheeks reddened. “That's how you see what your son has practiced?”
“Maybe he found some love in such deeds. Perhaps he found more than you have, with all that rutting you call a rite. What you do sickens me more than anything he might have done. What did you think—that you could destroy me by telling me this about Dyami or that the shock of hearing it would bring me to see things your way?”
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