“Great job,” said Raincloud enthusiastically. “You both fell just right. You really know what you’re doing now.”
“Do you think so?” Iras asked, as she got herself up and clapped the dust off her hands. “Will we put on a good show for our…friends?”
Raincloud considered this. The Elysians had trained at an astonishing rate, to within two levels of the top form reached by a Clicker goddess, perhaps within one level in the case of Iras. Raincloud took care to avoid teaching Lem certain moves which only a goddess was supposed to know; it might make no difference here, but she was still traditional about some things. At any rate, she had little doubt that they could show their Urulite hosts a thing or two. “I think that…Hyen’s friends will be impressed.”
To explain their activities to the public, Hyen had scheduled the three of them for a private exhibition at the Houris the week after their secret trip. The sleazier news networks were already speculating.
THE NEXT MONTH PASSED WITH LITTLE MOVEMENT IN Sharer negotiations, but in Helicon there were disquieting signs. The streets were not quite so clean as usual; in fact, they were marred by little tumbleweeds that seemed to have come from nowhere. The tumbleweeds rarely grew larger than one’s fist, but their tough interlocked branches caught in trains and in hair, and they clogged even the streetcleaners.
“They multiply faster than the cleaners can be unclogged,” Iras told Raincloud. “At this rate, they’ll smother the butterfly gardens. Let’s hope Verid does something.”
Raincloud was surprised. “What’s Verid got to do with it?”
“Why, it’s a ‘gift’ from the Sharers, of course. Just like the fruit flies—their classic tactic.”
“Yshri wouldn’t do such a thing.” But even as she spoke, Raincloud knew that Iras was right. Enough Sharers on other rafts were still mad at Helicon. The “negotiations” were useless without their support.
At home, Blueskywind could creep across the floor with surprising speed, especially when she caught sight of her favorite rubber squid. The squid was a gift from Draeg, a typical tourist toy from Shora. It was just the right size for her to stuff it between her gums, mouthing it all over, limbs and all.
Awake now most of the day, the baby babbled incessantly, long “Ah-ahs” and trills. Once she caught on to the “click” sound of the Clicker language, it caught her fancy for some reason, more than it had for her siblings. She practiced the click and exaggerated it, with Hawktalon’s encouragement, until it became a loud “Pop!” as she pulled her tongue out from the palate under pressure. When put down to nap, she would “pop” noisily to amuse herself until at last she fell asleep—much to her parents’ relief.
From Bronze Sky Nightstorm wrote that Falcon Soaring had her baby; that is, Raincloud’s sister Lynxtail had given birth two months before, and by ritual of the Goddess had transferred the child to her cousin. The news reopened a wound, leaving Raincloud depressed. Blackbear worried more about the fire season. The fires were lasting longer than usual, in an exceptionally dry year, and had already claimed half of Tumbling Rock. His own brothers’ village kept a nightly watch, just in case the fire burned their way and they would have to flee to Crater Lake.
Snake Day came again, just one Bronze Skyan year since they arrived in Helicon. Hawktalon dressed up the Goddess figure in paper snakes, and, much to her delight, Raincloud had actually borrowed a real live blacksnake from Tulle’s preserve. It must have fed not long before; it hung itself torpidly along the black glazed arms, flicking its tongue now and then.
The trip to Urulan, disguised as a staff retreat, was less than a week off now, unnervingly near. Blackbear gave her one of his dark looks. “You’re still going?”
Raincloud clenched her hands. “I can hardly dishonor the Snake.” Since the latest freighter “accident,” Blackbear was dead set against her going; the fact that they could not discuss Urulan directly only made things worse.
Verid called her in for one last review of their protocols and their negotiating plan. The two conferred on a ship in the outskirts of the solar system, where security could be maximized.
“The opening script is clear,” Verid reminded her. “Zheron expects you to fight the Imperial Champion ‘to the death.’ I tried to get this part waived, but he insisted on it.”
“I understand.” The Elysians would not have to risk their millennial bodies. “At least it’s not the Imperator himself; since he’s a ‘god,’ I would have to lose.”
“The ship will have full medical facilities. But don’t push it, by Helix; I’ll need you afterward in one piece!”
She smiled ruefully. “I’ll do my best.”
“Keep in mind,” Verid said, “our main aim is to find out what they want, what they think they need, to make peace with the Fold.”
“And commit them to disarmament.”
“If possible; we’ll see how much we can do in one visit. Remember, this encounter will be a big shock to the common Urulites. To face something as big as the Fold—bigger than their gods.”
Raincloud had some idea what that meant. She recalled Nightstorm’s remarks about “chromosomes,” something outside the experience of Thumbling Rock.
“The young Imperator is the key to everything,” Verid added. “He has to want to work with us.”
She nodded. “Rhaghlan wants peace and trade, and even democracy someday. He will liberate women and slaves.”
“He opposes abortion, though,” Verid added. “He gave a whole speech about that. Are you sure he meant ‘abortion’? Our previous translators would have rendered that ‘baby-killing.’”
“Urulites do not distinguish between the two,” Raincloud explained. “If a man’s wife conceives a child whom he can’t support, or if he doubts its paternity, he may order it terminated before birth, or after birth he may hold it under water, to preserve his honor. Since females have no honor, they are not permitted to do this.”
Verid thought a moment. “So for Rhaghlan to oppose ‘baby-killing’ is rather enlightened.”
“I wish all his views were so enlightened. He remains rather obsessed with ‘pure blood,’” Raincloud pointed out. “There are reports that he has imprisoned and possibly executed people for questioning his own godly descent.”
“That’s unfortunate, but not surprising,” Verid said. “His mother, though a lady of high rank, was not a queen; his enemies are bound to pester him about it.”
For some minutes the two fell silent. They had gone over everything so many times.
“Raincloud, I want you to leave the baby home.”
She stared, for a moment breathless at this sudden turn. “We had that settled,” she exclaimed. “I told you, I can’t let her go without nursing. You said she could come, so long as she stays with Iras while I’m on duty.” Iras’s nominal role on the trip was to “introduce” Verid, as her mate; on the side, Raincloud figured, she would scout out business prospects.
“I know,” Verid said, “but I’ve had second thoughts about nonprofessional participants. This Imperator may mean well, but he can’t guarantee our safety.”
“Only Elysians would expect that,” said Raincloud with frank disgust. “The baby goes where I go.”
“Your mate feels differently.”
At that Raincloud was too enraged for words. How dared Verid spy on her at home with Blackbear. She took a deep breath. “Your own mate disagrees with you,” she said coldly. “Yet she’s coming.”
Verid looked away. “Iras will stay home, if your baby does.”
Now Raincloud understood. Verid feared for Iras, too. “Let Iras stay home, and live a thousand years. My daughter has her honor to think of.”
Chapter 11
THE SPACESHIP HAD THE SAME CLOSE-FIT QUARTERS AS the ship that had carried the Windclans out from Bronze Sky. Raincloud could scarcely escape the sense that she was heading home, instead of toward the dreaded Urulan. “Little Lushaywen,” she whispered in Sharer to her wide-eyed child. “How could I ever have i
magined then what sort of journey we’d share now?”
The baby felt heavy in her arms, for the ship had already set its gravity to Urulite standard. The extra acceleration would speed their journey, too, though it made little difference nowadays. From the travelers’ perspective, their trip would take barely a day, mostly at near-lightspeed, with a jump station every hour or so. Back at Shora, over a week would elapse; then another week, after their three-day stay. Of course she could not have left the baby so long.
Still, better a week than twenty years. The Heliconians long ago had discovered that this lobe of the galaxy, called the Fold, was multiply folded on top of itself in one of its twenty-three dimensions, rather like a scarf folded up in a pocket. A jump station was a place where sufficient energy was concentrated to poke a hole across the fold, like a needle poking through a fold of the scarf. Today modern ships could thread in and out of the jump stations, taking shortcuts all the way to Solaria, a world on the farthest edge of the Fold.
“Last chance for second thoughts, Citizens,” Verid announced as they reached their final jump station.
Lem laughed. “Wasn’t this the one the Valans tried to shut down?”
Raincloud frowned at the heavy-handed jest. Then she turned her baby over to the nana for a diaper change.
The jump station appeared as an elliptical shape, absolutely black against the stars. Once the ship entered, it would start to spin at an exceptional rate, and the interior would experience high g-forces. So, as usual, all passengers reported to the central axis of the ship where they would strap down in order to pass through safely. Raincloud strapped her baby down, too; a bit of a trick in the near-weightless condition, but after all her travels she had grown accustomed to the straps and buckles floating off unpredictably, and the sense of confusion in her inner ears. She settled back calmly and stretched. A holostage was situated conveniently to provide what passed for Elysian entertainment.
The transition began smoothly enough. As the pressure increased, like a hand pushing her back, she took deep, regular breaths. The pressure gradually reached its maximum, about three or four g’s she guessed.
But instead of declining, the pressure rose again. The hand on her chest was now a lead blanket grinding her cruelly into the cushions that were supposed to protect her. She strained for air and tried to cry out for her child, but no sound escaped. An oxygen mask came over her face; that was the last she remembered.
When she revived, she ached in every muscle. Servo medics hovered over her and the other passengers, whisking tubes and sniffers here and there. Blueskywind was screaming at the top of her lungs, probably because she felt as sore as her mother did. Raincloud tried to calm her down enough to nurse. That jump was a bad one, she thought.
“Emergency alert, Citizens.” The ship itself was one great servo, which piloted itself without human assistance. “This jump station has not been well maintained; a gravitational anomaly stressed our equipment on passing through. The craft has sustained significant damage.”
The passengers exchanged looks. Iras caught Raincloud’s sleeve to reassure her.
“Will we be able to get back out again after our mission?” Verid asked. “That’s the main thing.”
“I can’t say for sure,” the ship told her calmly. “I will run all necessary checks.”
“Good,” Verid snapped. “Inform me as soon as possible, please.”
Lem was no longer laughing. “Those primitive bastards,” he muttered. “They can’t even keep up their jump stations.”
“Well what do you expect, with the Fold boycott against them?” asked Raincloud.
“Exactly,” Verid agreed. “It’s a wonder they keep up anything at all.”
Iras was watching the viewscreen. Her lips parted, and she pointed at a small yellow disk that stood out against the field of stars. “Is that…?”
“That is Urulan’s sun,” the ship confirmed. “One point two standard mass, spectral range—”
“Very well,” Verid interrupted. “Any contact from our host yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Satellites out?”
“The satellites have been launched, Citizen.” The spy satellites were to be released immediately to count Urulan’s missiles—before Zheron or anyone else might change his mind. “Warning,” the ship added, “my sensors already detect traces of radionuclear debris. If these emanate from the planet Urulan, my calculations suggest you would all do well to undergo cancer prophylaxis upon your return.”
“Great Helix,” muttered Lem. “We’re visiting a graveyard.”
“Contact!” called the ship. “An approaching vessel requests immediate contact—”
“Granted,” Verid quickly replied.
Before the viewscreen, the holostage filled with light. An image wove in and out, then settled at last.
It was Lord Zheron, as big as life. The burly oversized dwarf of a man had changed little; his blue tunic was layered over with chain mail, and weapons of every description bristled from his belt. He slapped his leg emphatically. “Lord Raincloud! You owe me one,” he reminded her. “I’m onto your tricks; you won’t get me outside the ring again.”
Verid cleared her throat. “Grand Vizier,” she greeted him carefully. “It is an honor to meet you once more.”
“His Majesty the Imperator awaits you with impatience. Prepare ships for docking.”
A phalanx of octopods emerged from the back of the Elysian ship, mainly to impress the natives, Raincloud thought. Zheron could easily obliterate their ship if he chose. As the two ships locked on, the nana came back with Blueskywind.
Raincloud turned to Iras.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Iras said. Iras had some knack with babies, after her years with Verid at the shon. Meanwhile, Raincloud figured that since she herself was the designated “male” for this trip, she had best leave the little one to others at least until after their royal introductions. What a sight one of those Urulites would make if he suddenly found himself in Tumbling Rock—childless, and bristling with silly pointed things. How the goddesses would laugh and speculate crudely as to why he needed more than one.
Zheron’s soldiers soon boarded, all of them about Elysian height yet twice as wide, their eyes bright blue, their hair straight and sand-colored. Zheron himself and his weapons master, Lord Dhesra, now the Imperial Master Armorer, both clapped her on the shoulder and exclaimed at how long ago they had last seen her. Raincloud recalled Dhesra well, especially his frank remarks on what ought to become of certain Imperial retainers.
The soldiers’ search of the vessel took longer than expected, in part because they seemed intensely curious about even the most mundane details of the Elysian ship, down to the little cleaner servos that scurried out to wipe the dust from their shoes. The men smelled as if they could use a cleaning, too. At any rate, Raincloud took the chance to sneak in one more nursing of the baby before she fell asleep. Caressing Blueskywind’s forehead one last time, she handed her over to Iras. The three of them rejoined Verid and Lem as they transferred to Zheron’s ship, leaving their own ship to park above Urulan’s equator.
The Urulite interior reeked of must and machine oil, and other smells best left unidentified. The floor hummed unnervingly underfoot. The bridge was full of manual switches and packed with men slamming controls and shouting back at the instruments when they disliked the response. Nonetheless, Zheron was immensely proud of his vessel, and he insisted on giving the Elysians a full tour, thumping the back of each crew member as he announced his job. Raincloud caught a glimpse of Lem’s face, rather pale; she suspected he felt sick.
By the time they reached the viewscreen, Urulan itself was in view: a lovely orb with patches of continent and ocean free of cloud, like Valedon, only somewhat greener. The Elysians transferred to a shuttle and descended through the atmosphere, a greenish sky gathering above them.
Below rose the famous “needle rocks” of Urulan. The dark brown mountains jutted spectacularly ou
t of a dense green ground cover, casting shadows for several kilometers. Even though she had known intellectually what to expect, Raincloud’s heart pounded harder the nearer they came.
All the while they descended, she translated for Zheron as he held forth on the past two millennia of Imperial history, starting with the birth of the first Imperator to the gods Azhragh and Mirhiah. Most of the history was familiar to Raincloud from her studies with Rhun; the few unfamiliar details she suspected were made up for the occasion. The shuttle was even more cramped than the spaceship had been, and as Zheron gesticulated, his arm occasionally brushed the chain mail of the pilot, who was doing his best to bring them in for a safe landing.
Suddenly Zheron flung out his arm toward the window. “Look there, below—a ‘caterpillar.’ You’ve heard, yes? One of our native fauna welcomes you to Urulan!”
Raincloud looked. A dense canopy of foliage could be seen, and she could just make out something moving.
Zheron pounded the pilot on the back. “Give them a closer look, will you?”
The shuttle dipped and swayed. Raincloud felt her stomach float up toward her lungs; she swallowed hard and gripped her armrests. The ground expanded and loomed upward toward them, until individual trees could be made out.
There it was, a “caterpillar,” a monster like two elephants back-to-back with seven pairs of limbs in all. As if on purpose, its front two limbs happened to lift up just then, giving a full view of the caterpillar’s mandibles; for a moment the shuttle seemed about to fall into them. Then the craft zoomed upward, tugging at her seat until it leveled off once more in the relative safety of the sky.
Raincloud took a deep breath. Reaching over, she gently caressed a black curl on the forehead of her daughter, sound asleep on Iras’s shoulder. Behind her Lem’s pale face had turned green.
THE IMPERIAL CITY OF AZURE AROSE UPON A CLUSTER of the needle rocks, linked together by delicate arched bridges that traced pale blue against the clear sky. The palace buildings consisted of round turrets with ledges that wound upward around them, like spiral ramps. Gold leaf lined the edges which caught the sunlight, winking in and out.
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