Ison of the Isles
Carolyn Ives Gilman
ChiZine Publications
Copyright
Ison of the Isles © 2012 by Carolyn Ives Gilman
Cover artwork © 2012 by Erik Mohr
Cover design © 2012 by Samantha Beiko
Interior design © 2012 by Danny Evarts
All rights reserved.
Published by ChiZine Publications
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
EPub Edition APRIL 2012 ISBN: 978-1-92746-907-1
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CHIZINE PUBLICATIONS
Toronto, Canada
www.chizinepub.com
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Edited and copyedited by Sandra Kasturi
Proofread by Samantha Beiko
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $20.1 million in writing and publishing throughout Canada.
Published with the generous assistance of the Ontario Arts Council.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Previously, in Isles of the Forsaken
1. The Windward Passage
2. The Sleeping City
3. The Bells of Harbourdown
4. A Beautiful Way to Die
5. The Laws of War
6. Storm Over Vill
7. Mark of the Munda
8. The Summons of the Stone
9. The Boundaries of Forgiveness
10. Fire in the Mountain
11. Boxing with the Wind
12. The Strength of Surrender
13. The Lashnura Solution
14. The Last Defence
15. Justice
16. The Trial of Harg Ismol
17. The Victor and the Victim
About the Author
Previously, in Isles of the Forsaken
The Forsaken Islands are scattered like the spray of a breaker off the western coast of the Inning continent. Inhabited by successive waves of peoples, the isolated archipelago is an intricate collage of ancient histories, races, and cultures. Inning is a young nation by comparison, but the Innings are on history’s upswing. They have set out to build an empire around their system of government by rule of law, and their principles of reason and justice. Isles of the Forsaken begins the story of how Inning invades the Forsakens, setting off a war that tests the deepest beliefs of both nations.
Harg Ismol is a native of the Forsakens who spent seven years in the Inning Navy, rising to the rank of captain. But when he returns home to the island of Yora, he finds that his people, the Adaina, are still living under the thumbs of the enterprising Torna. The Torna are also natives of the Forsakens, but have collaborated with the Innings to gain power. There is even a Torna governor, Tiarch, ruling the isles for Inning. But change is coming; the Innings intend to occupy the isles and spread their system of law to its farthest edges.
Nathaway Talley, the youngest son of a powerful Inning political family, has come to Yora with idealistic intentions of uplifting the natives. He quickly runs afoul of their complex culture when he meets and decides to rescue Spaeth Dobrin, the island’s dhotamar.
Spaeth is Lashnura, the oldest and oddest of the races inhabiting the Forsakens. Called the Grey Folk because of their grey skin and hair, the Lashnura play the role of cosmic balance-keepers. In their traditional belief system, the world is a battleground of natural forces called the Mundua and Ashwin. The Lashnura keep the balance between these forces through atonement, by taking on the sufferings of human beings through a curing rite called dhota. The dhotamar gives blood to establish a psychic bond that allows him or her to take on the diseases and injuries of others. But once they have given dhota, Grey Folk can never break the bond to the person who has been cured. Partners in dhota become bandhotai—deeply bound together, psychically, emotionally, and sexually. The Lashnura are saintly figures, but not through their own choice. They are compelled by biological necessity to sacrifice themselves for others.
Spaeth has never given dhota, but is under terrible pressure to do so. Created only seven years ago to be the sexual partner of Goth, the revered dhotamar and shaman of Yora, she has lived a sheltered existence. But Goth has disappeared from Yora, and the arrival of Harg and Nathaway propels Spaeth into the outside world, where she has to reconcile her heritage of compassion with her ardent desire for freedom.
Soon after arriving back, Harg runs afoul of the military occupiers of Yora, and is forced to flee along with Spaeth and their friend Tway. They go to the island of Thimish, where a group of local pirates form the nucleus of a brewing resistance to Inning rule. Harg is drawn into the insurgency, and leads an attack in which the natives capture a fort, three Inning warships, and a group of hostages. The most important hostage is Nathaway Talley.
Before the rebels can follow up on their victory, they learn that the Innings also have an important hostage: the Heir of Gilgen, a Lashnura religious figure who plays an essential role in the leadership system of the isles. In times of crisis, a leader will arise and claim dhota-nur in order to become Ison of the Isles. Dhota-nur is a deep soul-cleansing performed by the Heir of Gilgen. It frees its subject of all the painful memories that cause a person to act out of balance. The captivity of the Heir of Gilgen will prevent an Ison from arising. But more pressing than that, the Heir is Goth, to whom Harg and Spaeth both have complicated emotional ties.
Spaeth’s treacherous spirit familiar, Ridwit, manipulates her into leaving for the capital city of Tornabay to find the Heir of Gilgen. Harg follows, bringing Nathaway Talley as a bargaining chip to secure Goth’s release. He knows by now that the Innings in Tornabay are commanded by Nathaway’s brother, Admiral Corbin Talley, the cultivated but coldblooded head of the Inning Navy. What he does not know is that Talley is at odds with Tiarch, the cunning Torna politician who is the Innings’ viceroy. Tiarch’s agent, Joffrey, manipulates Harg into meeting with her; but before they can come to terms there is a coup, and Tiarch is ousted from power. She flees with a portion of the Navy that is still loyal to her, and Harg persuades her to join the rebellion against Inning.
Meanwhile, Nathaway escapes from the rebels, but his brother, the Admiral, treats him as a traitor because his letters home have been published and have created sympathy for the natives. Disillusioned, he also escapes from Inning control. Through a series of coincidences he meets Goth, and together they perform a dhota ritual to free Spaeth from the control of the Mundua who have taken over her mind. As a result, Nathaway and Spaeth become joined by a bandhota bond. Goth urges them to flee, and gives Nathaway a mysterious stone pendant that helps them escape. Nathaway makes the fateful decision to abandon his old life and follow Spaeth and the rebels.
1
The Windward Passage
>
When daylight filtered into the Ripplewill’s forward cabin, Spaeth stretched out her naked limbs in luxurious comfort. Beside her in the berth, Nathaway Talley was still asleep. A stripe of sunlight lay across his bare shoulder, as if the day were caressing him, as infatuated as she. Gazing at him as he slept, she loved everything about him: the bony angles of his body; the texture of his exotic, pale skin against hers; the way his untrimmed blond bangs fell in his eyes. She loved his smell, she loved his private parts for giving her so much entertainment. With that in mind, she bent down to kiss them awake.
He gave a startled little noise and reached out as if to make sure it was really her being so personal. She straddled him then, and watched as his nearsighted blue eyes focused on her with that look of complete surrender that only one other person had ever given her.
If Spaeth had been a person given to reflection, it might have troubled her that his devotion, while sincere, was not entirely voluntary. She was now the beneficiary of the slavish dhota-bond she had sought so hard to avoid herself. Why Goth had paired them she had no idea, but she accepted it as a gift to her—a strange gift for a man to give his beloved, but one she was quite cheerful to enjoy.
She leaned forward to tickle Nathaway with her hair. “I love having a bandhota,” she said. He didn’t answer, just reached up to hold her by the arms. A fleeting sadness crossed his face, as if waking brought back the memory of some loss. It reminded her vividly of Goth. Even the green pendant resting against his chest was Goth’s. It was as if the Grey Man had created a replica of himself to console her. But Nathaway was much younger and more vigorous. She scooted down to tickle him in a more provocative place.
“Again?” he said, as if astonished at her. But he was joking.
“What do you mean?” she said. “It’s been forever.”
“At least six hours.”
For three days now they had been unable to get enough of each other. The others on the boat were tolerantly amused, but a little agog at the intensity of their libido. Spaeth knew it would fade in time—with her first, since the bond was less lasting on the recipient than on the giver of dhota. She wanted to explore every crevice of him while it was strong.
This time he did it slowly, in time to the rhythmic rocking of the boat, so that it seemed as if she were washed in an ocean of liquid love. She rode the waves as he flowed into her, waking every nerve of her body, making her throb with need.
When they came out on deck, the others cast knowing glances in their direction. It made Spaeth feel cheerful and lucky, but Nathaway wouldn’t meet their eyes. She couldn’t imagine what his problem was; they all knew he couldn’t control himself.
The Ripplewill was bounding over the waves like a frisking pony, sending spray flying in rainbow sheets. Even the boat seemed to feel elation at being free of the city. Spaeth made her way to the foredeck, facing west. She was glad to be warmly wrapped in an old coat one of the crewmen had given her, for the northeast wind at her back was piercing.
Tornabay hung like a black haze in the back of Spaeth’s memory. She was not proud of the way she had acted there, but self-blame was not a strong part of her nature. In her own mind, she had been lured there by the treachery of the Mundua, then cast into a labyrinth of evils through which she had barely managed to find her way. If it had not been for Goth . . . She tried to drive from her mind what might have happened.
But now she was free. There was a clear sea before her, a strong wind behind, and the Isles all around. She breathed in the mora, like healing oxygen to her starved system. Here there was no suffering to tug at her desires, nothing to own her against her will. She almost felt as if she could drive the Ripplewill forward with the wind in her heart.
She took her hands from her pockets and looked at them. They were strong now, the skin a healthy shade of grey. The nails were pearly, purified by the cleansing power of dhota. She clenched them, thinking of Goth. She could still feel his healing touch. Right now, he would be suffering under the brunt of the disease he had taken from her body. He would have to endure that illness alone, with no one to treat him kindly. The ignorant Innings wouldn’t even know what ailed him.
Nathaway was making his way forward to join her. He walked stiff-legged, clutching every handhold he could find, constantly off-balance on the canting deck. He needed to relearn everything, she thought—even how to walk.
Soon he was standing precariously beside her. “Where are we?” he said.
Torr had taken them north from Embo to throw off pursuit, since everyone would expect them to go south. They had passed northwest up the strait between Esker and Fosk, called the Windward Passage. “It looks like we’re close to the Widewater,” she said. “That far island must be Bara. I don’t think we need to worry about any Inning boats catching up with us now.”
“Then where will we go?”
She frowned, not wanting to think about the future yet. She wanted to enjoy the day.
She stepped to the weather rail and stood looking down into the water. It was a deep green, shot with long sun-shafts. The shadow of her head scuffed across the waves, and the sunbeams all seemed to be radiating from it like a spiky crown. Down there, she thought, lay the realms of the Mundua.
Nathaway joined her. Now his shadow was crowned with light, too. “What do the Innings think lies below the sea?” she asked. “Just more sea?”
“No. The sea has a bottom.”
“And what is under the bottom?”
“Rock.”
“And under the rock?”
“There is nothing under the rock. That’s all the world is, just a ball of rock.”
How safe they must feel, she thought. Utterly in control. She looked up to where the thin blue shell of sky hid the realms of the Ashwin. Only the Isles lay in between the ancient antagonists. Her lovely land, saved from unbeing only by the precarious balance of power between the forces, and the balance of suffering and joy that was the peculiar gift of humankind.
Nathaway was still talking. “It’s a ball of rock revolving around the sun, you see. As it spins, it turns away from the sun, making day and night. It’s tilted on its axis, so the days and nights are longer or shorter depending on which side is tipped toward the sun. That’s what creates seasons.” He stopped, watching her. “You don’t believe me,” he said.
Spaeth shrugged. “It’s probably true in your land. Not here.”
“If it’s true, it has to be true everywhere.”
To her, every permutation of every truth was possible. The universe was a layer cake of truths, all coexisting.
“Maybe the world is a ball of rock,” she conceded. “But the lands of the Mundua still lie under the sea.”
“Both things can’t be true. They contradict each other.”
“So do hope and despair, but they both exist.”
“That’s not the same,” he said. “They are things of the mind.”
“So are rocks and seasons, in the long run,” Spaeth said.
The wind was blowing his hair into his eyes. He brushed it away; it was instantly back. “I can’t believe Goth didn’t teach you—”
“What? To think like an Inning?”
He frowned. “To use your reason. You have a good mind, Spaeth.”
“He probably thought it wouldn’t make me happy. It hasn’t made you happy.” He looked startled at this, but it was true. Ever since she had met him, she had felt an unfulfilled longing in him, as if the world had not quite lived up to his expectations. It was as if he thought the universe ought to behave by certain rules, and he was always disappointed when he found out it didn’t. Yet he never revised his expectations—instead, he tried to revise the world to conform to them. It would never occur to an islander to demand that the universe behave.
A wave made the deck of the Ripplewill lurch, and Nathaway was flung again
st her. She caught hold of him to keep him from toppling overside.
“We can’t become like you,” Spaeth said softly, her arms still strong around him. “We have to find our own way. With mora.”
“Magic?” he said sceptically, as if this solved nothing.
“Mora isn’t just magic. It’s the force that holds everything together. This land is thick with mora. Can’t you feel it? Look out there, how the sea is sparkling, winking at us like it knows a joke. That’s mora.”
He didn’t answer, just stood looking out at the sea, as if seeing it her way were a challenge to his personal boundaries. As if he couldn’t acknowledge the world’s personality without questioning his own.
Having an Inning for a lover was going to be hard work, she thought. And then she wondered: had Goth given him to her, or her to him?
*
At sunset they gathered in the cramped main cabin to settle on their route. Tway was uncharacteristically moody. Before anyone else had a chance to speak she said, “I think we should circle round and go back. We’ve left three friends stranded in Tornabay with a pack of vengeful Innings on their heels.”
Nathaway stirred restlessly, and she turned on him. “Well, it’s true.”
“If they’re in custody already, there is nothing we can do,” he said.
“We still have you to dicker with,” she said darkly, making Spaeth clutch his arm possessively.
Torr interrupted, “We don’t know the Innings have them, or even if they’re still in Tornabay. They could all be leagues away by now, heading for the South Chain, and we’d only get ourselves captured going back for them. Harg wouldn’t thank us for that. I say we should head to Harbourdown to rendezvous. That’s where they’ll go.”
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