Daughter of Elysium

by Joan Slonczewski

  She had forgotten how the ship barely made it through the badly maintained Urulite jump station. Blackbear was right about this trip after all.

  But there was no way she could not have come.

  “Raincloud?” Verid’s voice called through the intercom. “Are you in shape for a brief staff meeting before we head out?”

  She assented, joining Verid and Lem in the conference room. Upon the table a holostage sprouted its usual field of letters; it appeared to be the statement Verid had composed with Zheron earlier that morning.

  “There was one minor change in the wording I’d like you to check, in both languages,” Verid told her. “We also have some decisions to make. What exactly will we say about our mission, back at Elysium?”

  “We’ll tell the truth,” said Raincloud without hesitation.

  Lem frowned. “The citizens won’t like to hear about the violence. It won’t sit well with the Guardians, either,” he warned.

  Raincloud looked beyond him with contempt.

  “You’re both right,” Verid pointed out. “We can’t ignore the more embarrassing—and disquieting—aspect of our mission. But, considering Urulan’s record, we came out well. We all knew from the start how Rhaghlan got his throne. The real news, remember, is the interstellar missiles: their absence, that is. We must emphasize that, and put Valedon on the spot.”

  “We’ll roast the Valans, all right,” Lem agreed. “We’ll call the question on their own missiles, too.”

  AS SOON AS SHORA’S SOLAR SYSTEM WAS WITHIN RADIO range, Verid lost no time contacting the Nucleus. Hyen needed little convincing that their mission was a success; he had his speech written already.

  “Greetings, my fellow citizens of the eternal Republic of Elysium, and fellow members of the Free Fold.” The image of the Prime Guardian filled the holostage on board. Never had the golden sash glowed so brightly, nearly washing out Hyen’s own face. This would be his greatest triumph ever, the crowning moment of his term as Prime. “I announce to you the beginning of a new era of peace for the Fold. Today, my official envoys return from a state visit to Urulan, a world that has chosen to open its doors to us after more than two centuries of isolation…” The joint statement from Verid and Zheron soon followed.

  In the ship’s viewscreen a twinkling blue dot appeared, then widened into the pale disk of Shora.

  There could be no more welcome sight, except of course to see her own Bronze Sky await her return. Raincloud had forgotten how much she missed the wide open hills and plains of her own home. She asked the ship to call Blackbear.

  To her surprise, there was no response, even from the house.

  “So sorry,” the ship said. “Your house must be experiencing technical difficulties. I’ll report the defect.”

  “Uh, no need to do that.” Doggie and the house must be up to their tricks again. But the last thing she needed was to have Public Safety come in and cleanse the house network, after months of getting it trained to their family needs. She fumed inwardly; that house would need a good talking to.

  Within ten minutes the house called back. “Oh I’m so sorry, Raincloud dear. I’ve just been out visiting all over town, since the shon’s empty, and I had no idea when you were—”

  “What do you mean, the shon’s empty?”

  “Your mate and shonlings went home to Bronze Sky for a funeral.”

  She clenched her hands. “Whose funeral?”

  “Most of his family, I believe.”

  “His family? Whatever happened?”

  “A period of unusually dense cloud cover with resultant cooling triggered a turnover of the upper waters of Crater Lake, with release of an estimated one point four cubic kilometers of trapped carbon dioxide…”

  Raincloud covered her forehead. What a thing to happen; and she was not even there to help. Why did people keep building settlements downhill from volcanic lakes? The soil was rich, but it was not worth the price.

  Upon landing, the returning travelers faced a thicket of lamppost servos that nearly filled the node of the transit reticulum. But Raincloud hardly took in a word of the press conference, for her mind was on getting home. As soon as she reached their apartment, she reserved a jumpship passage to Bronze Sky.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” the house queried. “Your account is already negative. You may receive a surprise visit from the Citizens’ Credit Bureau. Most citizens consider such a visit highly unwelcome.”

  “The clan’ll cover it eventually” she said. “I have to be with my ‘family.’”

  “What if your ‘family’ is no longer there?” the house pointed out. “Blackbear said he expected to get home before you.”

  This was a good point. She put in a call to Caldera Station, the holo transmitter nearest Tumbling Rock; of course, Nightstorm would have taken a day to get the message and come down, but perhaps someone at the train station could help.

  Within half an hour, the station manager shimmered into view above the holostage. She was in luck; it was old Lupin, a wizened fellow who doggedly wore his turban even though he had long gone bald. “Lupin! Can you tell me what’s going on? Is Blackbear still there?”

  The man shook his head, as one of his grandsons climbed up his knee. “A sad business,” he sighed. “Your Blackbear was here, all right, and the little ones too; he wouldn’t let them out of sight. But he left just yesterday. I put him on the train.”

  So Blackbear was on his way home. She still ought to return and pay her respects; but then she would miss Blackbear back in Helicon.

  “Say,” Lupin added, “you’d better take care of that fellow, you hear? He looked pretty lost. He’s in a bad way, not that I can blame him.”

  That settled it. When the image flickered out, its time expired, she canceled her reservation.

  “Very well, Raincloud;” said the house. “If you’re available, now, you have a number of reporters at the door.”

  “Reporters? Wasn’t one press conference enough?” They were worse than fruit flies. “Tell them, ‘No comment.’”

  “Certainly, dear. They’d like to see your face, though—and the baby, too. Otherwise, you know, they’ll take an unflattering image from their files.”

  Immensely irritated, she gathered up the sleeping Blueskywind from her crib and marched to the door, which swiftly oozed open. “No comment,” she called crossly to the assembled lampposts and swivel-boxes.

  “Did you and your shonling really fight off a giant and several Urulite assassins single-handed? A million credits for the story.”

  “Two million, from us. What’s your nuclear damage count after breathing their poisoned air?”

  “Can we really trust the Urulites enough to send them food credits and build them a microwave station?”

  “Is Bank Helicon making a wise investment in Urulite hydroelectric power?”

  Raincloud had just ordered the door to close, when the last comment got through. She immediately called it to reopen. “Excuse me—Bank Helicon, you say?”

  “Bank Helicon’s international loan officer Iras Letheshon has just proposed to negotiate five to ten billions worth of loans to the Urulite Imperium for hydroelectric infrastructure. Would you comment please?”

  She paused, her muscles taut. Then she stepped back. “Close, please,” she told the door. “For the rest of the day.” Returning Blueskywind to her crib, Raincloud went back to the holostage. “What’ve you got on Iras?” she demanded.

  “Iras Letheshon?” checked the house. “She held a press conference twenty-nine minutes ago.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  Iras Letheshon appeared, the butterflies with their coin-shaped designs trailing dramatically down her talar. “I am proud to reveal that we have opened a new era of trade and cooperation with the Urulite Imperium,” she announced. “Urulite entrepreneurs are eager for our investment to rebuild their impoverished country. They offer inexpensive labor and vast mineral resources. Some promising possibilities include…” Iras
went on to list a number of the business contacts she had made. How had she managed them all? Some of the names connected with the names of Queen Mother Bhera’s ladies-in-waiting; there was a clue. Perhaps Bhera was not the only lady transacting business on behalf of her male family members.

  “Finally, in order to build confidence in the progressive new regime, Bank Helicon plans to explore the financing of a series of hydroelectric generator plants compatible with the local ecosystem. May I say, on behalf of Bank Helicon, to borrow a quaint expression from the colorful Urulite people, that I am prepared to ‘fight to the death’ any Urulite community leaders interested in our help to finance development of their world.”

  That was enough for Raincloud. She put calls through to both Iras and Verid. Both were unavailable, but Verid returned her call first.

  “Is it true?” Raincloud demanded. “Is Bank Helicon really going to make loans to that Imperium?”

  “That’s just a proposal,” Verid assured her from her familiar walnut desk. “Any such loans would require approval by Foreign Affairs.”

  “Which you’ll grant, of course. How can you do this? Urulan is ten times more backward than L’li. You know what they’ll buy with the money: waste and weapons.”

  “Some will go that way,” Verid admitted. “We’ve discussed this before. To tame a repressive regime, you have to buy them off.”

  “But do it wisely, by the Goddess.” Raincloud could hardly contain herself. “It’s one thing to help small businesses; it’s quite another to breed corruption in a violent regime. Remember, they’re murderers.”

  “They need not remain murderers. We must give them a chance. You yourself said so,” Verid reminded her. “Young Rhaghlan impressed you.”

  “He will die; you Elysians always forget that,” Raincloud added bitterly. “He’s not that young, and he’s a sim. And who will succeed him?” She shook her head. “This was no part of the deal. You kept this from me.”

  “It’s better to separate business from politics. It makes for better business—which is precisely your concern.”

  “My concern is that I want no part of this,” Raincloud said. “I know what became of our motherworld, L’li—a hundred promises, all broken dreams. Yes, you bought them off; bought their restraint on emigration. But that was all you got.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “I’ve had all I can take. I did this on faith, for you, and for Rhun. I’ll resign and go back home.”

  “Please think it over. I won’t accept your resignation just yet—”

  “And you can inform Iras that I formally withdraw my acquaintance with her.” With that she turned her back on the holostage and deliberately left the room.

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE MASSIVE FUNERAL, A SPRINKLING of snow had fallen over the Caldera Hills. The snowfall, an early touch of winter, put an end at last to the long fire season.

  Some of Raincloud’s family marveled at the power of such a light touch of cold to quench the fearsome flames. Blackbear had other things on his mind. For one thing, he and Three Deer found that they had inherited enormous quantities of property they scarcely wanted. With Raincloud absent, Nightstorm made arrangements for him to ensure that he got his “fair share.” In the end, of course, the ownerless farmlands, possessions, and livestock would be parceled out throughout the Clicker community. The orphaned children, too, quickly found new homes. Blackbear wished he had the spirit to take one, but he found his heart strangely empty.

  Nightstorm reminded him to reserve ship passage back, which he did. Then Hawktalon went to Aunt Ashcloud’s for the week. Blackbear kept Sunflower with him constantly, on his shoulders like he used to, although the boy had grown so that it made his back ache. His eyes ached, too; there was something wrong with them, he thought; they would not focus properly.

  One afternoon he left Three Deer’s house to hike up around the mountain. The trail took him through the fall-colored maples and oaks, and through the dense pines where he came upon a blackened stretch that the fires had crossed earlier in the summer. The charred fallen logs had a look of desolation that could not yet be redeemed, even by the insistent green underbrush that had sprung up soon afterward. At last the trail opened out onto a sheer cliff edge, so steep that the pines could not keep hold, only the huge boulders jutted from the earth. He could see for many kilometers, the hills and mountains all around, the sunken crater of Black Elbow.

  His steps slowed, and his grip tightened on Sunflower’s ankles.

  “Don’t fall, Daddy,” Sunflower warned.

  The boy was right, he told himself. And yet…For a moment his eyesight blurred again, and he felt his balance slip. Perhaps it would be kinder, after all, to slip under, to rejoin Quail and the others. Sunflower would never have to know what he had known.

  But something held him back. It was a hand; not an actual hand, but some sort of hand that he saw in his mind. It might have been a webbed hand.

  SOMEHOW BLACKBEAR MADE IT BACK TO RAINCLOUD IN Helicon. The reunion was almost more than he could bear; how he had longed for the sweet smell of her.

  “I’m sorry,” Raincloud whispered. “I can’t believe you had to go through all that without me.”

  “Well, I’m back,” he said inanely. “We’re all back.” Hawktalon and Sunflower were already tearing up their bedrooms. A stuffed animal came flying out into the hallway. It was a black teddy bear.

  His eyesight went completely blank, and he put his hands to his head. “There’s something wrong with my eyes.”

  “Have it checked, then.”

  “I did. They found nothing.”

  “Well for goodness sake, call a servo medic, remember?”

  The house answered, “I’ve put in the call, dear.”

  In another minute, a medical hovercraft was at the window, and Blackbear was on his back on the couch while a pair of little servos fussed over his eyes. Meanwhile he could hear Raincloud scuffling with the children to get them to behave; in two weeks, they had gotten quite used to wider spaces again. At last she threw Hawktalon out the door with Doggie.

  “We find nothing out of the ordinary with your visual system,” the servo concluded sweetly. “Your mental state, however, shows sign of severe strain. You must have been neglecting your Visiting Hours; citizens commonly do, while abroad.”

  “Goddess,” he exclaimed, “I’ve done nothing but visiting.”

  “We suspend your work privileges for a month and recommend you to the Palace of Rest. As a foreigner, you cannot be summoned by statute; however, we most strongly recommend…”

  Blackbear put his head in his hands. “Help!” he exclaimed.

  Raincloud returned and shooed the servos out. “Never mind, dear. We won’t be staying here another month.”

  He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve resigned.”

  His jaw fell. “You’ve what?”

  “I quit. You were right before; I should never have gone on that stupid mission.”

  “But—but what about my lab?”

  “You were offered a position back home, right? I called Founders; the clinic is ready to take you back tomorrow. As for me, I’ve all but sewn up a deal with our state department back home, to translate Urulite, of course. Urulan is in fashion, all of a sudden,” she added bitterly.

  “But—I can’t go back.” He found himself shaking with apprehension.

  She stopped and looked at him. “You can’t go back?”

  “It’s too horrible, that’s all. I can’t face it. I’m afraid of what I might do.”

  Raincloud took him in her arms and held him. At first he felt cold as stone, but little by little the warmth crept back into his body despite himself. They were together again; they would soon be together alone.

  “There’s so little I can do for you,” she whispered. “But there is one thing. Let’s read the last part of The Web.”

  The Web

  Part III

  MERWEN LED ME DOWN THE SLOPE FROM THE RIM OF THE gathering place.
I followed, astonished that she would study evil with the same seriousness with which we had considered the Web, the greatest good. Yet she herself had told us at the outset that she loved “what is new and evil.” Was that what had always drawn her to outsiders of questionable character, even Valans like Adeisha’s father, and my stepmother, and me, Cassi Deathsister…and even my father?

  I walked on a bit faster to catch up with Merwen, and I fingered the whorlshell at my neck, as if seeking comfort in a pitiless universe. After several years, the costume of Sharers still feels uncomfortable at times. Beneath our feet as we walked, the enormous girth of a raft branch began to round up out of the mat of evergreen. We were approaching the water channels, where the branches gradually reach down into the life-giving ocean like roots into soil.

  A heavy sound broke the silence. It was a dull, creaking sound, like a groan from the bottom of the sea. My feet turned to water, as the raft’s surface began to weave back and forth like an aerial tree branch shaken by a playful child. I cried out and fell down, bruising my hands and knees.

  The raft gradually steadied. “Merwen?” I whispered, still afraid. “What was that?”

  “A raftquake,” she explained, as dryly as one might explain a symbol in the clickfly web. “By the strength of it, I would guess that a crack has occurred in a central trunk of the raft. Raia-el weakened greatly in the last storm.”

  “Won’t the crack knit together again?” I asked.

  “Not this time. Raia-el is twice eight-times-eight years old. Her central core has grown dry and brittle. The Gathering should settle a new raft, before the next swallower season.”

  I was shocked. “Are you sure? Can we just abandon a raft that has held up so well—and has such historic significance?” The dark burn marks of the Valan invaders remained for all to remember. “Besides, how will we find a new raft large enough, and bind it up with starworms in time, and carve out all the tunnels…”

  Merwen nodded with all I said. “That’s exactly what the Gathering will say.”

  “Then you’ll have to share otherwise.”