The low, gray clouds opened and a sudden hard rain fell.
“Now what?” Binley said. “We can’t build a pyre for her, not in this wet.”
“We’ll have to leave her,” Azlii said.
I swung around to face Azlii. “No. Beasts will get at her out in the open. We can take her to the community hall. Her sisters will find her and give her proper treatment when they return.”
“I didn’t mean to leave her in the open, Khe,” Azlii said. “We’ll have to leave her without a proper pyre and ceremony.”
“If her sisters were in there with her, they’re as Returned as she is,” Binley said, glancing around.
My neck grew hotter. Her unitmates would have been with her, at the least. Whatever brought this doumana to the smokehouse, she would have sisters with her, to help.
“We don’t have time to dig through for any others who might be here,” Azlii said. “It could be days of effort.” She glanced over at the sacks we’d left on the ground. “This rain will soak those through. The grain will be ruined.
“Her other sisters left her.” Nez’s voice was tight. “The ones who hadn’t come to the smokehouse. Left, and ran away. How could they do that?”
“They didn’t know anyone was here,” I said, trying to soothe her.
One spot of soft-yellow-green bloomed on Nez’s neck, but her doubt was misplaced. She didn’t know commune doumanas the way I did. They wouldn’t have left — not if they knew their sisters were in danger.”
“Or they tried to save them and couldn’t,” I said.
Azlii nodded. “Two landslides. Maybe more.”
“Where are the rest of them?” Binley asked. “They’re not all buried in the smokehouse.”
There was no answer to that. Azlii picked up her muddy, wet cloak and slung it over her arm. “Clear a space and put the sacks in the smokehouse. We’ll get this doumana into their community hall and come back for the food. We have sisters of our own we need to help.”
Ten
No one spoke on the walk back, each lost in her own thoughts. It was hardest on Nez, I thought, being kler-raised and insulated from the sorts of accidents that happened on a commune. But Nez had been taken by the lumani. She knew about panic and pain. She understood about making hard choices for the greater good.
In Kelroosh we went straight to Home to dry ourselves and get clean garments — and to think. The five grain sacks and two bags of preslets were stowed in a corner of the receiving room. Azlii told Home about the abandoned commune, the mud-filled smokehouse, and the Returned doumana, but asked Home to keep the news to itself for a while, until a decision was reached.
Home sent, You should tell Community Hall what happened. Between the five of us, we will, I am sure, come to a fine solution.
“That’s a good idea,” I said aloud.
Nez looked at me, her lips pulled taut. “Could I be in the conversation too?”
I touched her neck lightly. “Home suggested we bring Community Hall in on the decision-making.”
Azlii shook her head. “I’ve thought it through already. The only solution is the obvious and true one. We’ll take the grain and preslets to the communiteria. We’ll tell everyone about the abandoned commune.”
“Won’t they be upset?” Nez asked.
“Of course they’ll be upset,” Azlii said, fastening on a dry hipwrap. “Food stores practically gone. Leaders who can hardly decide if they should get up in the morning, much less what supplies they need. All this rain out of season. A planet that is suddenly shaking like a frightened hatchling. And now an abandoned commune. We’ll put our sisters right to work getting ready for travel.” She ran her hand over her scalp. “The three of us will go to see Larta. Maybe she knows something.”
My breath caught in my chest and my neck warmed. “Pradat warned me to stay out of Chimbalay. You and Nez go.”
“Really, Khe? The short amount of time you have left and you’re going to spend it being afraid to walk into Chimbalay? I’d pegged you for a different sort of doumana than that.”
I made a noise that could be interpreted many ways. Sometimes the fact that my spots no longer lit was helpful.
“Besides,” Azlii said, “I need you, Khe. Most kler doumanas have never met anyone from a commune. Only you can explain the commune viewpoint so that Larta and I understand.”
“I don’t like it,” Nez said.
I touched each of the lit spots on Nez’s neck. “Azlii is right. I don’t want to go into Chimbalay and flaunt myself to those who are angry with me, but I can’t live what’s left of my life being afraid. And I’d very much like to see Larta again.”
Azlii clapped her hand against her thigh. “Good. It’s decided then.” She glanced at the corner where the goods had been left. “Let’s get these noisy birds out of here. We should be on the travel before sunset.”
“Going up,” Azlii said.
An unnecessary warning — the lurch in my stomach had already told me Kelroosh was rising. Nez yelped and grabbed my hand.
“Pftt,” Azlii said. “You really should go get your fabric and colored threads, Nez. Something to keep you busy and your mind occupied while we travel.”
Azlii could be as blunt as a broken knife.
Kelroosh banked suddenly. Nez leaned so far into the turn she nearly rolled over, and squeezed my hand tightly. I stroked her neck with my free hand.
As quickly as the bank had come, Kelroosh straightened and began to slow. Then it seemed we tilted slightly and began circling.
Kroot Kroot, Home sent to get our attention. Wall says there are doumanas in the hills.
That old Wall is starting to see things, Azlii sent. We pass over these hills all the time. No doumanas live there. No doumanas live in any hills anywhere.
“What’s happening?” Nez asked.
“Wall thinks it sees doumanas in the hills,” I said.
If Wall says there are doumanas, Home sent, then there are. Wall is never wrong.
“Wall did spot the hatchlings,” I reminded Azlii.
Azlii rubbed the ridge over her right eye. Can we set down? Is there room?
I heard the soft whirring that structures sometimes made to each other — their native language, I presumed, something doumanas couldn’t translate.
Wall says there’s no flat space big enough, and that Azlii should come take a look for herself.
Azlii sucked in her cheeks. Do I look like a babbler? The one thing we never do is step outside during travel. The true soil of Kelroosh is too thin to support our weight.
Home sent, The soil will move around and thicken under your feet so you don’t fall through on the walk.
Azlii stared at the door, but didn’t say or think-talk anything.
Home let out a chuckle — like wind through an empty structure. Yes, there are things Kelroosh can do that not even corentans know. Come on now. The walk is safe.
Azlii rose, grabbed her cloak off the peg by the door, and stepped out into the rain. I didn’t think Home would send her to do something dangerous, but my neck warmed, and if my spots had lit they would have shown the same blue-red of anxiety that was all over Nez’s throat.
When Azlii returned, she tossed her wet cloak on the peg, walked straight over to a large pillow and settled herself on it.
“What did you see?” Nez asked.
“Doumanas, just as Wall said. I recognized a few of them — from Grunewald commune. They saw us circling. Some ran and hid, but others waved their arms. I couldn’t hear them, but I know they were calling out to us. Calling for rescue.” Azlii sighed. “Wall was right. There was no place to land.”
Just coming up to the hills, Home sent. Then down over the wilderness, and then to settle outside Chimbalay.
I rubbed my arms, trying to chase away the chill running through me. The last time I’d passed over those hills I’d been on foot, escaping Lunge commune, my home then. I’d climbed the hills and gone down into the wilderness looking for salvation and sanct
uary. Instead I’d found beasts, feathered and fanged. In Chimbalay, among the tall buildings and sophisticated doumanas, I’d found other beasts — the lumani, soft spoken and made of energy. Those beasts, the lumani, had changed me, made me what I was now.
Something unwanted in Chimbalay.
Nez sat on a pillow next to me. She reached over and stroked my throat.
“Even if the doumanas in Chimbalay do blame you for the destruction of their energy center, how many actually know what you look like? Hardly any. You could pass right by almost everyone there and they wouldn’t know you for who you are. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“But it’s my fault,” I said. “I destroyed the energy center and the doumanas of Chimbalay nearly starved because they had no energy to cook with and nearly froze to death because they had no energy to keep their dwellings warm.”
“Pftt,” Azlii said. “Next thing you know, you’ll want to take responsibility for the unseasonable rain, too.”
I smiled weakly. “Not the rain.”
A slight shiver ran down Nez’s arms and a soft, surprised, “Oh,” popped out of her mouth. “That’s not all that’s bothering you, Khe. It’s the memories you’re afraid of. Of remembering what the lumani did to you.”
Home chuckled softly. That one may be useless at think-talking, but she knows your heart. And she’s wise. Wiser than you, sometimes. You should listen to her, Khe.
Nez rubbed her hand across her face. “It’s not only your own memories that frighten you. You’re afraid of what I’ll remember, what Azlii will feel, walking in that place again.
“We’ll be fine,” Nez said. “I’m looking forward to being in Chimbalay. It’s my place. My first place, at least. Kelroosh is my place now, maybe. For me, I want to walk those streets again. I want to see Mees and my other kler-sisters. I think maybe being in Chimbalay again will help me understand where I truly belong.”
Lunge was my ‘first place’, but returning had brought me no joy or peace. I hoped the outcome would be different for Nez in Chimbalay.
Azlii sighed noisily and pulled herself to her feet. “We’ve landed. We’ll be anchored soon.” Her mouth formed a wry smile. “Chimbalay is always an adventure.”
The Chimbalay doumanas poured through the high silver gate, gathering bags in hand, making their way to Kelroosh. They were likely delighted the corenta had settled outside their gates so soon again after the last visit — another opportunity to step outside the walls — despite the hard rain pelting their cloak-covered heads. Beasts roamed the wilderness outside Chimbalay. Unless a doumana was secure in a transportation vehicle or had the safety of a kler or corenta around her, she would never leave.
I saw their happiness at being out. They couldn’t see my nervousness about walking in through those gates again.
We angled our way through the crowd, heading in as hundreds streamed out. We wore kler-style cloaks and trading collars and carried gathering bags stuffed mostly with dried stalks but with goods peeking over the rims. The Chimbalayans paid us no mind. We were nothing to them but sisters who’d managed to reach the corenta early and were now returning. Our slow pace, if they noticed, was explained by the abundance of goods we carried.
“It’ll be good to see Larta again,” Azlii said.
“And Mees,” Nez said, her step visibly lightening at the thought of being with her kler-sister. “And the hatchlings. I must talk to Mees about taking the hatchlings we found. They’re all female, so the males must have picked up their lot. I’m sure Mees will be happy to have the new ones.”
I couldn’t see her neck through the collar but was sure it was pale-green with contentment. Chimbalay was her home — her first place, as she’d called it. Just as Lunge was mine, and I’d been happy to see my commune-sisters. Not so happy to see Simanca. But Nez was happy here in this place made by the lumani for their comfort, this place in which both she and I had suffered. She seemed to have made peace with what had been done to us, more so than I had.
My stomach knotted as we passed through the main gate. I felt again what I’d felt that night, heard the sounds of metal twisting and windows shattering as the energy center the lumani had selected as the site of their stand-off was destroyed. The building itself had chosen to help, and had been destroyed in the process. I remembered running as metal and clearstone rained down, falling behind as my allies bolted for the gate. I remembered, too, what the lumani had done to me. To Nez. To Inra. I had plenty of reasons to be glad of their destruction.
I pulled my hood closer around my face, making a small fabric cave in which to hide. Nez was right — few doumanas here would recognize me, but it took only one. At least we wouldn’t be going all the way to the center ring, where the energy center had been. Where the research center still was, the place where Azlii and Nez had suffered and Inra had been Returned before her time. The place where I’d been turned into whatever sort of thing I was now.
When we reached Guardian House, where Larta lived, Nez nearly ran up the ten steps to the door and stood in front of the spy hole. The walk had tired me. Azlii took my elbow, to help me up the stairs. The door irised open almost immediately and a stiff-backed guardian appeared and waited for someone to speak.
“We’re looking for Larta,” Nez said.
My chin was tucked into my chest, but I could imagine the bold look Nez was handing the guardian. We were in Nez’s world now, and she had taken control.
The guardian’s shoulders relaxed. “Larta doesn’t live here any more. She was spending so much time at Justice House that she and a few of her sisters moved on in.” The guardian peered at Nez. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Tanez, of Hatchling House Four.”
I stiffened, hoping the guardian wouldn’t recognize Azlii or me. The truth was, few doumanas of Chimbalay had much love for Azlii either, even before the lumani were destroyed. The collars were the proof of it: set-place doumanas didn’t trust corentans any more than corentans trusted them. There could be friendships, but even though Azlii and Larta felt warmly toward each other, there was a gate between them that never fully opened.
“Larta will be glad to see you,” the guardian said. “Do you know the way to Justice House?”
“Yes,” Nez said. “Thank you.”
“Larta isn’t merely First of the guardians now,” the guardian said. “She’s, well, she oversees the kler. Picked up where the powers left off after they were blown to smithereens.”
Picked up where the powers left off. I didn’t know what to make of that.
The guardian peered hard at Azlii and me, but whatever she felt wasn’t strong enough to light her spots. Maybe there were more in Chimbalay without hard feelings toward us than Pradat had led me to believe. Or maybe they blamed me, but not the others. Doumanas weren’t always logical.
“Thank you,” Nez said again and turned to lead us.
Justice House was in the center ring of Chimbalay, the same ring as the energy and research centers, but on the other side.
“I know a good route,” Nez said. “We won’t go by… those places.”
She strode off. Azlii and I followed like hatchlings.
Larta’s neck lit up like a Resonance night sky, spots aglow — yellow-green with surprise, crimson with happiness, white with satisfaction. She stepped out onto the porch, grabbed Nez and Azlii — one with each arm — and pulled them close. Nez and Azlii had removed their collars while coming up the steps. Their necks also glowed with the vivid crimson of happiness. Larta turned them loose and took me by the shoulders, her hands pressing the wet fabric of my cloak.
“Khe. My dear sister, Khe. You look well. I’m very glad to see you again.”
Happiness and relief flooded through me. I wished my emotion spots would light, so Larta would know. But she seemed to know anyway, and the crimson on her own neck didn’t fade. She looked into my face for a long moment. Her lips tipped in a wide smile as she lifted her hands from my shoulders.
“Well, Tanez,
” Larta said, turning to her, “I thought you’d gone off forever to be a corentan. You look half-corentan, even in a kler cloak, foot casings, and hipwrap. It’s in your bearing.”
“Nez is at least half-corentan now,” Azlii said. “Corentans are proud with good cause.”
Larta laughed. “Of course they are, Azlii. How fine that you’re here to remind us of all the reasons. Do come in.” She swiveled to the side, giving us room to pass into Justice House. “We have much to talk about.”
The foyer was probably as big all by itself as the receiving room in Home. The floor was some sort of polished stone — dark-blue-red, the color of curiosity. The door behind us irised closed.
The crimson on Larta’s neck winked out. “Things have changed since last you were last here.”
A tingle of anticipation slid down my breastbone as we followed her into the receiving room.
I’d forgotten how large rooms like this could be. I’d grown used to the corentan way of living, where a doumana usually had a dwelling to herself and didn’t need a receiving room bigger than an area to fit a few sisters. Kler dwellings were like commune living, with whole units sharing the space. I wondered how many sisters Larta lived with here. A great many, I guessed, to need a room this size.
On a clear day light would have poured in from the numerous windows. Today the room was lit by the glow of white globes that lined the ceiling and stretched down the walls between the windows. It wasn’t as nice as natural light, but the effect was cheerful. And opulent. I felt uncomfortable, as if none of us belonged in a room like this, a room made to lumani specifications. A room where the lumani had passed judgments, using their doumana surrogates to hide where the true power lay. My neck warmed, nerves tingling, wondering what ‘changes’ Larta wanted to tell us about.
Ashes and Rain: Sequel to Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle Book 2) Page 9
