Now, after supper, a few prisoners were usually summoned to the residences of the guards. Occasionally, they returned to their own dormitory with tales of messages they had been allowed to see. More often, they were silent, and kept their eyes averted. More of the women had Amina's haunted, listless look; more of the men bore the marks of beatings.
Three weeks after his arrival, the blond man pulled Dyami aside as he was leaving the dining hall. “I have a message for you,” Maxim Paz murmured. “Come with me.”
* * * *
Dyami followed the young guard to one of the houses near the hall. Maxim ushered him inside, then gestured at the floor. “Sit down.”
Dyami seated himself. Through the entrance to a tiny adjoining room, he could see a mat. Maxim disappeared into the other room for a moment, then came out; he was holding Dyami's sculpture of Balin. “I was told you made this,” he said. “I rescued it from what was confiscated here, and Jonah said I could keep it. I admire your skill.”
Dyami looked up warily. Maxim was smiling down at him. Could it be that the guard pitied him or had some sympathy for one of his own kind? Had Maxim volunteered to come here in order to find some way to aid the captives? He would have to be careful; he knew too little about the young man.
Maxim was even taller and more muscular than he had been as a boy; his body seemed almost to fill the small room. He set the sculpture on the floor, then sat down. “Aren't you curious about the message?” Maxim asked. “Don't you want to know who it's from? Shall I fetch a pocket screen so that you can see it?”
“Please do,” Dyami said.
“But you have to guess first. Who do you think it's from?”
“It could be from any number of people.”
“Oh, yes. Maybe your parents sent it, or a neighbor. Maybe there's a message from your old friend, Teo. Do you think it might be from him? I don't know how much he'd have to tell you—it might be embarrassing or even dangerous for him to touch on certain things. It might not be a good idea for you to see any messages from him. It could only stir up old memories that are best forgotten, don't you think?”
“Perhaps.”
“Teo tried to seduce me once,” Maxim said. “He shows no remorse or repentance over the kinds of things he's done. He thinks he can go on as he has, but he'll regret that. Even the Guide's patience will wear very thin. It would also grieve her to know that none of the penitents here has accepted the truth.”
Dyami did not reply.
“There are a few people under detention now who may be sent here soon to finish out their sentences,” Maxim continued. “They would assist us, of course, in an effort to make some recompense for their earlier deeds. I'm sure they'll be grateful for the opportunity to prove their worthiness of our trust.”
That, Dyami thought, was useful information. When his fellow captives learned this, they might be moved to act more quickly. “I would like to see whatever message you have,” he said.
“Perhaps another time.”
Dyami kept his face still. “You said—”
“Oh, I do have another message of sorts, but it isn't recorded. It's from your sister. She's very concerned for you. I've spoken to her often, and when I volunteered to come here, she honored me by including me in the party sent to the Platform to bring those former Linkers here. I told her that I would do my best to guide you to the right way. She knows that you and I have been guilty of offenses against the Spirit.”
Dyami's heart fluttered. He had clung to a faint hope that Chimene, if she discovered how the prisoners were being abused, might be moved by some concern for her brother. If Maxim spoke the truth, she knew what he was now; that was something she would never forgive.
“I confessed my sins to Boaz,” Maxim said, “and he brought me to the Guide. Her kindness to me was more than I expected. She saw how I hated my deeds, how I fought against what was inside me. She told me that I would be forgiven, that there is great virtue in overcoming great obstacles to reach the truth. I wanted to say that to you. You see that she loves us, don't you? She awaits the day when you'll make your peace with Ishtar.”
The blond man reached behind him and handed Dyami a bottle. “Go ahead,” Maxim said. “It's just some whiskey. Maybe you've missed it. I can show you a little hospitality.”
Dyami took the bottle. He could bring it down on the other man's head; he might have just enough time to find Maxim's pocket screen and get some sort of message out before—He dismissed the wild idea. Maxim was holding his wand now; he would fire before Dyami could move. He lifted the bottle, drank, then set it down.
“I didn't know who you were that night we met,” Maxim said. “I didn't find out until I spoke to Boaz. I couldn't believe that the Guide's own brother could be guilty of such affronts, that you, of all people, could have sat with me and told me there was no evil in what your kind does. What sorrow the Guide must have felt when she knew.”
Dyami's head swam; his arms felt heavy. He took a breath, afraid he might faint. The room seemed to be spinning slowly. He tried to move, then closed his eyes for a moment.
“But you will repent.” Maxim's voice surrounded him. “I'll see that you do.”
A blow caught Dyami on the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. He gasped, struggling for air. He could not move; his limbs felt weighted to the floor. He had been drugged; he was sure of that now. Maxim continued to strike him, then pinned him.
“You're going to learn to hate this,” the young man murmured. “You're going to be taught to give it up.” He pulled at Dyami's clothes. “You won't be able to think of it without hating the evil inside you. I'll show you how much I love you by making you hate this.” Maxim held him face down, then thrust inside him painfully.
* * * *
Dyami lay in the darkness, his face against the ground. Pain shot through his chest as he took a breath; his back felt bruised, his insides torn. He was certain he was bleeding, and felt that something had ruptured inside him. He had lost consciousness at least once, only to awaken to the horror again. He wondered how many times Maxim had assaulted him, whispering of his love as he entered, groaning as he spent himself.
“Get him back to the dorm,” someone was saying.
“Acting up, was he?” another man said.
“He got a bit out of line.” Dyami recognized his tormentor's voice. “I was forced to take steps to restrain him.”
“I hope he's able to work. He won't get fed until he is. Next time, try not to disable them too much—it just means more trouble for us. There are plenty of ways to hurt them and leave them fit enough for work.”
He was picked up by his arms and legs. He nearly groaned aloud. His battered muscles contracted in pain as he was carried through the darkness.
“—really worked him over,” one of the guards was saying. “Maybe it's just as well—kind of a warning to his friends not to step out of line.”
The darkness swallowed Dyami. When he came to himself, he was lying on his stomach, his cheek against a mat; a hand was on his head. “Tasida's coming.” That was Suleiman's voice. “Who did this?”
“Maxim Paz.”
He heard Allan curse. “What is it?” a woman's voice called out from the doorway. “Oh, no.” Tasida knelt at his side; Dyami squinted at her. She gripped his hand as someone else removed his clothes; he heard a gasp. “Oh, Dyami.” The physician clutched his hand more tightly. “What have they done to you?”
“Is he going to be all right?” Allan asked.
“Get one of the guards outside,” Tasida said. “Tell him I need my physician's bag. You know what to say—that we want to be sure that he's able to work as soon as possible. Look meek, apologize for the trouble he might have caused if you have to, but just get me my bag. Helmut, you and Suleiman can go to the lavatory, find a couple of relatively clean towels, soak them, and bring them back here.”
Tasida's freckles were tiny dark spots on her white, angry face; Amina was peering over her shoulder, tears in her b
lue eyes. Dyami moaned as the physician touched his back.
“I'll be all right,” he managed to say, “—have a lot of time to think while I'm recovering, come up with a plan that'll work.”
“Dyami,” Amina said, “you mustn't—”
“That'll work,” he muttered, “and soon, because if we don't act soon and I have to go through that again, I'll kill him. I won't care what they do to me—I'll kill him.” He closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness.
Thirty
A Guardian and a Linker had come to Chimene's room to present gifts from Kaseko Wugabe. There were other Guardians in the hallways of Anwara; Chimene had seen them the day before, after leaving the shuttle dock. The sight of the stark black uniforms made her uneasy; there was no need for the Mukhtar and his delegation to bring Guardians to Venus's satellite. But Mukhtar Kaseko was also a Guardian Commander; perhaps he felt more at ease with other Guardians around him.
Boaz hefted his present, a hand-made spear from the African Nomarchy of Azania, where Kaseko Wugabe had been born. Chimene's present was a small silver dagger with Arabic lettering engraved on the blade; Eva had also been given a dagger.
“Maybe we should wear these to the meeting,” Chimene said. “The Mukhtar might expect that.” The presents struck her as odd but perhaps not out of keeping for a Commander.
“Boaz and I are hardly going to be able to carry spears into the meeting.” Matthew stood his spear in a corner, then sat down on a cushion. The room, like most of the residential quarters on the space station, was small, and Chimene would be sharing it with Boaz while they were here, but the minor discomfort was a small price to pay for what the Mukhtar would grant them.
She glanced at Eva, who was studying her own dagger. Maybe after they had met with Kaseko, there would be no more complaints from her friend. Somebody had been filling Eva's head with foolish stories—rumors about possible brutalities in Turing, tales of the patrol calling on households Boaz held grudges against, discontented pilots, complaints about requested contributions, restlessness among workers on the Bats, grumblings that the Guide was losing touch with her followers. Idle talk, she thought, clearly designed with only one aim—to sow discord in her household and to make her distrust those who had been of such value to her. She had not deigned to discuss such matters with Boaz or Matthew, since she had been preoccupied with preparations for the Mukhtar's visit. Her people still loved their Guide; they would love her all the more when their freedom was upon them. That would be her gift to all Cytherians.
“What does it say?” Eva asked. She held out her dagger; Chimene studied the calligraphy. Her Arabic was a bit rusty, being a legacy from her father that she preferred to forget.
“His is the kingdom of the heavens and the earth,” Chimene translated. “He ordains life and death. You have none besides God to protect or help you.” She gazed then at her own dagger. “Believers, make war on the infidels who dwell around you. Know that God is with the righteous.”
“Well.” Eva put her dagger back into its case. “They hardly strike me as appropriate sentiments.”
“I think they're quotations from the Koran,” Chimene replied. “God's Revealed Word is full of such sentiments. I'm sure the Mukhtar doesn't mean anything by them.”
“Chimene.” Boaz took the dagger from her. “We meet with Kaseko Wugabe and his delegation tomorrow. Matthew and I have to speak to you and Eva now. Administrator Alim would be here to discuss this meeting with you himself, but I urged him to allow me to speak to you first.”
His face was solemn, his large dark eyes filled with apprehension. Boaz was probably as nervous about meeting the Mukhtar as she was, and perhaps even more worried. She, after all, had prevailed upon their housemate Galina for an implant that would keep her calm during her sojourn on Anwara. The physician had somewhat reluctantly, after Boaz had requested it, provided one; its carefully timed doses of hormones and enzymes would block any surges of adrenaline while keeping her mind clear. Chimene did not like depending on the implant, but Boaz had pointed out that she was using it in service to Ishtar. She did not want to shame herself by betraying her nervousness when meeting the Mukhtar.
“Alim's already explained a great deal,” she said, “what to say, how proud the Mukhtar is. I think I know how to conduct myself.”
“Alim had more to tell us during our consultations earlier,” Boaz said. He and Matthew had been in the Administrator's room before, supposedly to settle small details that did not have to trouble the Guide. “I don't quite know how to tell you this, but you must listen. I found it difficult to accept myself, but Alim has convinced me that we must. He was very worried about you—he knows how strong your faith is and about the hopes you were bringing here. Please hear me out and understand that the Administrator has only the interests of our fellowship in mind.”
She looked at him steadily, unable to summon up too much concern. “What is it, Boaz?”
“The Mukhtar is not prepared to grant what you wish. He isn't here to give us autonomy but to reassert Earth's control over this Project. Kaseko may be a Mukhtar, but he's also a Guardian, and he's never lost sight of what happened during Pavel Gvishiani's time, when it seemed Earth might lose control of this world to the Habbers. The Guardians wanted to force a surrender from the Islanders then, even battle the Habbers, but the Mukhtars refused to unleash them. Kaseko has always seen this as an admission of Earth's weakness, even though the matter was settled peacefully and the Mukhtars were able to save face. He still sees it as a stain on the honor of the Guardians.”
“But the Habbers are gone now.” She was still calm but also numb, as if her mind could not yet grasp the import of Boaz's words. “Isn't that enough? Can't the Mukhtar see that the Habbers no longer have any influence here and that allowing us freedom poses no threat to him?”
“That isn't the point,” Matthew responded. “With the Habbers gone, Earth will need to do more to keep this Project going. They're not willing to do that unless it's made plain that we're subject to their will. Kaseko controls the Council of Mukhtars now, and he's tired of the ambiguity in our status. He wants Venus to become another Nomarchy. Treating us as equals or as a sister-world with its own autonomy—he would see that as only another humiliation.”
Eva bowed her blond head. “I feared this,” she said. “If the Habbers were still among us, the Mukhtar would have had to be more cautious. Maybe the Habbers even guessed that Earth might make this kind of move, and that's why they left so willingly. They knew Earth might be ready to fight them—that's why they left without even trying to hang on for a bit in the hope things might change.”
“You sound,” Matthew said, “as if you regret their departure.”
“Oh, no.” Eva looked up. “I can't be sorry about that. I can be grateful for their cowardice. At least it may have kept us from becoming their battleground with Earth. Alim must have seen this coming all along. He'd bow to Earth to keep what he has—maybe he's even dreaming of becoming the Mukhtar of this new Nomarchy.”
“Alim has also been working for us,” Boaz said. “You must believe that. He convinced Mukhtar Kaseko that his original plan was unwise.”
“What plan was that?” Chimene asked.
“The Mukhtar was going to tell us he would meet with us on Island Two. After his ship landed here, shuttles were to carry a Guardian force to the Platform. We wouldn't have known that, of course—we'd have been thinking they were only the delegation bound for Island Two. Our people couldn't have prevented a well-trained force from taking control of the Platform, and you know what that would have meant. We'd be completely cut off from the outside, with no shuttles able to land on the Platform unless the Guardians allowed it. No airships would have been able to carry supplies from the Platform to the Islands or the surface, unless we gave in to all of the Mukhtar's demands.”
Boaz did not have to explain that to her. The Islands and the domes would have been entirely dependent on the supplies they had now. They could survive for qu
ite some time, but eventually an important installation for which they lacked replacement parts would fail, and threaten an entire community. The Cytherians would have had to surrender, or else wait for the slow and inevitable end.
She lifted her hand a little, surprised at how steady it was. “Alim,” Boaz continued, “convinced the Mukhtar that such actions were both needlessly provocative and unnecessary. He said it was possible for Kaseko to achieve his aims peacefully, but for that, he needs us. Alim has persuaded him that we're reasonable people who know that we can gain nothing by taking a futile stand against him.”
“Giving in to him can't serve the Spirit,” Chimene said. “It makes a lie of everything I believe.”
“It won't serve the Spirit to defy him,” Matthew said, “and bring suffering and death to our brethren. Let him call Venus a Nomarchy, let him bring in his own people to serve on the Project Council and as Administrators. We'll still have the Project, and you'll be the Guide. Alim will see that you're consulted. Which is more important—preserving our pride, or keeping our people safe? Your brothers and sisters won't thank you if you defy the Mukhtar and put them all at risk.”
“Ishtar will go on,” Boaz murmured. “Our people will still be free to find the truth. We can live for the day when Earth will have no power over us, when we're strong enough to stand alone. Kaseko's grateful that we persuaded the Habbers to leave, and Alim has convinced him of the wisdom of working with us. You may see this as a defeat now, but we'll be victorious in the end.”
His advice had led her to this, having to surrender her world to Earth. She had thought that the Spirit spoke through Boaz and Matthew; now it seemed as though their words had always been Earth's. Maybe they were only two men who had acquired a taste for power, or perhaps they had been Earth's minions all along.
She was grateful for her implant. Perhaps Boaz had thought it would keep her passive as well as calm. She would deal with the rage, shame, and despair that were likely to overwhelm her at another time, but at the moment she was free to consider what Boaz and Matthew had told her.
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