The hum from the cryo unit helped blot out the agonizing loop of her thoughts, wondering what she could have done differently in her parting ritual.
Gregor’s pale face looked so serene, like he was sleeping, hands crossed on his chest, eyes closed, tiny star crystals of ice on his lashes. He wore his deep green robes with his headdress tucked into the side of the coffin beside his head. The cryo unit had kept him intact.
“Rest in peace, my Laud. You will join your ancestors soon in the womb of Harmony.” She bowed and closed the lid.
Laudae Penelope and Mr. Guilliam awaited them at the landing field with a full panoply of priests and priestesses and all their acolytes with a proper hearse. Sissy opened the coffin a third time to show them the frozen body of their HP Laud Gregor.
Appropriately Harmony wept for the loss of her High Priest, a constant, chilling downpour along the entire drive back to the Crystal Temple.
Sissy’s only conscious act that day was to rip all the padding from her robes and order seamstresses to work all night to re-style the brocade to fit her body, removing all traces of Dragon scales from her regalia.
Still numb the next day, Sissy presided over the funeral. Her acolytes and Gregor’s—led by Mr. Guilliam—assisted her. The populace crowded the forecourt of the temple, braving the chill and damp to say good bye to the man who, for good or ill, had presided over their lives. When all the incense had permeated the forecourt of Crystal Temple, all the crystals had chimed in concert, all the candles had burned to stubs; when all the hymns had been sung and the blessings dispensed, she escorted the body to the funeral caves in the foothills inland from the capital city.
Through none of the long ceremonies had she worn her headdress, keeping it on the altars in front of her, allowing her face to shine free of the concealing beads. Each of her girls did the same.
Mr. Guilliam and the rest of Gregor’s acolytes removed theirs as well. No one had need to hide behind the veils to keep their anonymity. Of all of them, only Caleb, Gregor’s youngest assistant and his son, showed any outward grief.
With Gregor safely stowed with the bones of his ancestors, Sissy gathered her five remaining girls and retired to the tiny chapel beside the cave entrance. “Mr. Guilliam, you are underdressed for this occasion,” she announced. Her heart brightened.
“My Laudae,” Guilliam looked at her in question. No, resignation seemed his dominant emotion.
“The time has come. You can delay no longer. You will accept ordination and enter the convocation of the priesthood as fully one of us. As you should have done ten years ago.”
“At least,” Penelope echoed.
“My Laudae, I never asked for the responsibility. My calling in life is to administer Crystal Temple for the High Priest.”
“Except for the rituals, you have filled the job of High Priest better than Laud Gregor or his predecessor.”
“But . . .”
“Laudae Penelope, I believe you have ordered appropriate robes?” Sissy asked.
“Yes, My Laudae,” she replied with a grin. “He has chosen red as his color to match my own. And I must say, I approve of the removal of the padding. It was uncomfortable, ungainly, and totally unfashionable.” She brought forth a swath of red brocade.
“Appropriate,” Sissy replied. Then she sobbed in memory of Marsh adding his red coloring stick to the sacrifices. She’d intended to burn them together at the end of the ritual, but safety protocols aboard a space station demanded no fire. So she stowed them in her luggage, intending to burn them here, in her own private Grief Blessing for the loss of them all.
Now she considered keeping them to fuel her own memories of her brother and sister, her acolyte, and . . . and Jake.
The land choked her, sending a rippling quake beneath their feet. Sissy grabbed a door jamb for support, her five girls crowding into the supporting framework with her. Guilliam and Penelope rode it out, feet braced.
“That’s only 4.8,” Guilliam said.
“They probably didn’t even feel it in town,” Penelope added.
“You . . . you’ve become so used to these disasters?” Sissy gasped. Only then did she rouse from her inner grief enough to realize it hadn’t stopped raining since she arrived. Heavy rain. Out of season rain and chill. It should be bright and warm and dry like a proper summer morning.
“Let’s get this over with so I can get on with the real work of keeping this empire running smoothly. Supplies don’t get off-loaded from cargo ships and work crews assigned to rebuilding on their own,” Guilliam grumbled.
Sissy kept the ritual of ordination simple: Two prayers, three hymns, invocation of the crystals, and placing the bright red robes—without padding—around his shoulders. At the moment, her friend was just another acolyte elevating to the priesthood, by an ordinary ceremony that did not require the pomp and circumstance of consecration to High Priest. Or High Priestess. That would come later.
Jake ambled along the textured pathways of the hydroponics garden. A light breeze drifted along the beds of vegetables and fruits, lots of leafy greens in this section, and climbing tomatoes, almost enough to feed one good sized salad to the entire station. Since taking over, he’d doubled the garden space—two entire wings, all twenty levels of each, were now devoted to growing things. Special varieties of dwarf fruit trees adored the HG levels and produced juicy treats all year long. The gardeners kept one wing’s temperature and moisture controlled for autumn and winter, and the other spring and summer. In a few weeks they’d transition the wings toward the opposite season. They hadn’t quite figured out root vegetables yet.
A bee buzzed his ear. Another gardener innovation: A tightly controlled insect population to pollinate. He wondered if he could add chickens to the mix. Fresh eggs would supplement their diets nicely, and they’d help control the insects.
He liked it there and wished he could spend more time just breathing the air. It didn’t smell quite so artificial.
Martha had brought Ianus every day. He said it was as close to Earth as he could get. “Roses,” he’d said, “are but a distant legend among my people, almost a myth. But the memory lives in my genes, like the lingering perfume of the roses long after I’ve returned to my room.”
As usual, Jake stalled so he could breathe, but he had an errand. Martha and Ianus sat near a tiny circle of roses. Ornamental luxuries, yes, but the bees liked them and the flowers graced restaurant tables, giving people a chance to enjoy the bright colors and natural perfume. They also added to courtship rituals for several alien races, not just humans.
“Martha,” he hailed the pair who sat side by side without speaking. They might be mind talking, or just being quiet.
“Dad!” She jumped up and gave him a quick hug, then returned to her bench beside Ianus’ float chair.
The boy’s inordinately pale face looked splotchy. His breathing also seemed heavy, difficult. He’d lost ground just since the previous day. Apparently the temporary rally had worn off. Just as Doc Halliday had predicted.
Jake greeted the boy, extending his hand to shake, and found it difficult to keep his face neutral under his weak and clammy grip.
Not long now. But he’d thought that several times since the telepaths had first arrived on the Dragon ship.
“Did Ambassador Chtackah find something wrong in the preliminary trade agreement, again?” Martha asked “I can reword the part about customs inspection. She’s afraid to let our people check their fresh produce for foreign insects and molds.”
Jake had to grin. Martha had come a long way from the shy little girl he’d first met on Harmony, over a year ago. After only five weeks, he didn’t know how he’d run the diplomatic end of things without her.
“No, the Maril ambassador is fine with the current reading. She’s looking very closely, though, to see if she can create another reason to delay signing. I came to find you because I received messages from Harmony.”
“Did Laudae Sissy arrive safely?” Panic widened her eyes
.
“Yes. She sent a brief note saying that she arrived, that Laud Gregor also arrived intact. She didn’t check on Lady Jancee and Lord Garrin, but Lord Lukan did and accepted the coffins. He loaded them into a private hearse and took them directly to the funerary caves without a proper Temple funeral. I guess he decided that his wife’s part in kidnapping Laud Gregor’s body meant she did not qualify for a full ritual.” Jake had to carefully school his thoughts by running through the pre-flight check list. Lord Lukan had told him too much.
Martha let his statements pass, but Ianus must have caught a whiff of something wrong, from the arched eyebrow and pursed lips. “I can see Lord Lukan becoming as commitment phobic as the Maril,” he said. “Don’t let him lead the negotiations.”
Jake nodded to Ianus in agreement. No time like the present to get through the next unpleasant chore.
“Spill it, Dad,” Martha ordered.
Jake jerked his mind away from the post-flight checklist. No fooling his telepath daughter. She might slide over specifics, but she knew when he was hiding something.
“I also received word that Major Roderick and Lady Janelle—Lord Lukan’s daughter and replacement—have finally cleared the jump point. Their departure from Harmony was delayed, and then hyperspace held them captive longer than usual. They’ll be here in about six hours.”
“And?”
“And we on the station have accepted you as a telepath. We value your talents and appreciate that Ianus and his companions are teaching you how to manage the onslaught of information—most of it useless.”
“Speaking of useless information, you need to eat a salad with your dinner tonight,” she reminded him.
“Well, yes, there is that. But we don’t know if Major Roderick and Lady Janelle will be so accepting. I’ve made an appointment for you in Medbay to get your caste mark removed.”
She slapped her hand to her left cheek, almost protectively.
“I know I promised . . . I asked to do this . . . but . . .”
“Martha, I know how reluctant you are to finally part with this last connection to Harmony and Sissy.”
“And everything I was brought up to believe about myself.”
“You are who you are. Not who you were,” Ianus said on a wheeze. “You don’t need a caste mark to remind you.”
Martha lowered her head and kept her eyes hooded. She had a lot to think about, and Jake couldn’t help her make decisions. He had to be the dad now and make them for her.
“For your own safety, we need to remove any evidence that Roderick might use to claim you as a citizen of Harmony and therefore subject to their laws. He might pack you up and ship you home—to Harmony without a second thought. He’s useful as an assistant, but he’s also a traditionalist. I’ve never met Lady Janelle. I have no idea if she’s conservative or open to new things. I think it’s best we do this. Now.”
He wondered about Lady Janelle’s second message, less than ten minutes after the first, to meet with him privately, as soon after she landed as possible. She’d deciphered a message from her father awaiting her when they cleared hyperspace. Lord Lukan, on Harmony, needed Jake’s immediate attention.
Why hadn’t Lord Lukan called Jake direct?
Reliable communications from Harmony waxed and waned with daily politics. A message to his daughter was expected. A message to Jake would be questioned by many.
“Will . . . will you give up your Caste mark?” she asked, removing her protective hand from her cheek.
He felt the wiggle of something in his mind, her connection to him seeking his true thoughts on this.
“I kept it to pacify the Harmony diplomats when they first arrived, but also as a connection to Sissy. I don’t need it anymore.”
“That must mean she’s not coming back. Not ever,” Martha sobbed.
“No, it means that my connection to her is more solid and less ephemeral than the concept of a caste mark.”
“He’s telling the truth, Martha,” Ianus whispered, patting her hand. “And now I’m tired. You can take me to Medbay on the way to your appointment. I expect to see two bare-faced trolls the next time either of you grace me with your presence.”
If there is a next time.
Resignation to his fate invaded them all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Sissy hugged Monster and Dog from her crouch on the floor of her suite. The dogs kissed her with wet sloppy licks and accepted her ear scratches. But both seemed distracted, looking toward the door to the grassy courtyard and escape. She gave them each one last pat and sent them on their way.
“They’ve both found new jobs since you abandoned them,” Penelope said, watching them dash to the green space. “Monster has taken over the nursery. He guards and plays with the toddlers like they were his own puppies. The attendants say all of the children are better behaved with his calming influence. One of those huge paws in the middle of the chest pins the child down and convinces them they can’t continue questionable behavior. And the older children work harder in school knowing they have to achieve better grades to win the opportunity to play with him.”
Sissy smiled. “I’m glad. I love him and he helped me through the awful time of grief. He is where he belongs. What about Dog? What does he do all day?”
“All night. He sleeps mostly during the day and walks patrol with Security at night. He’s nosed out and scared off several looters. The guards love him and spoil him terribly with treats.” Penelope smiled too at the idea of the grim-faced Military developing soft spots for a pet. “He’s also nosed out survivors within the rubble of quake-ruined buildings.”
“He has become the valiant defender he was meant to be.”
“You too have grown into your role as HPs.”
“I know I must preside over a conclave of all Crystal Temple to elect a new HP, but I truly do not want to face my enemies within that gathering.” Sissy took a deep breath, testing the air. It choked her, and she had to cough it out.
“When was the last time you had the filter in your lungs changed?” Penelope asked as Mary entered with an inhaler and handed it to Sissy.
“I . . . I don’t remember. I talked about it with Physician John when I returned to FCC from the planet Sanctuary—both times. Mary, do you remember if we did it or not?”
The girl shook her head.
“Laudae Sissy, do we have to replace Martha? Martha isn’t dead, she just isn’t here!” Bella and Sharan demanded. The angry scowls on their faces made them look like twins. Suzie stood behind them, not happy either.
“What?” Sissy asked, looking to Mary and Penelope. She missed Martha almost as much as she missed Jake. They should both be there, beside Mary.
“There’s a whole long line of girls standing in the corridor waiting for you to choose one of them to replace Martha,” Sarah said. She didn’t look any happier than the rest of them.
“Tell them I cannot possibly choose a replacement until after we elect a new HP,” Sissy said. One more reason why she shouldn’t delay the conclave.
“And when will that be?” Mary asked with a knowing smile.
“We meet in an hour.” Sissy coughed out the breath she’d been holding.
“The pollen count isn’t very high today,” Mary said with disapproval. She nodded to the inhaler, suggesting Sissy use it again.
“Maybe not much pollen today, but lots and lots of destruction and construction dust,” Penelope reminded them, as if the constant sound of hammering and heavy engines moving blocks of foundation stones, all day, every day, from sunup to sunset wasn’t reminder enough.
Day after day, the arguments continued. Laud Andrew refused to back down from his position of authority as temporary HP. He wanted Sissy to resign and Laudae Maigress to replace her. He shouted. And he vetoed everything—especially the change in robe style and removal of the beaded headdresses.
“We have been arguing trivia for weeks now!” Sissy protested. “Why are you all so reluctant to discuss the mat
ter at hand?”
“I have taught children who think that if they shout louder and more often than anyone else, then they win the argument,” Penelope said, catching Andrew’s gaze and holding it relentlessly.
Neither bellowing nor public reprimands were allowed in Worker families.
“Since you insist upon maintaining tradition, why have the Covenant Stones been removed from view?” Sissy asked, succumbing to the indulgence of anger. She half stood from her chair, fists clenched upon the long conference table. “Why did you order them sent to the funerary caves to be hidden?”
In all the weeks of arguments, no one had mentioned them. They were the dragon in the corner to warily walk around without waking it.
Sissy had had enough of dragons, real and mythical.
“What about them?” Andrew asked from behind his veil. “We thought it appropriate to display the stones with the ancient murals, a reminder of the primordial source of our traditions.”
“A display that will never be seen by anyone but the resident priest and priestess,” Laud Guilliam added. “I have also seen a memorandum cross my desk with orders to destroy all copies of the covenant made directly from the stones. It was unsigned, so I ignored it. Someone does not want to acknowledge that the stones differ from more recent editions.”
She could see nothing of Andrew’s expression or body language beneath his regalia.
“Laud Andrew, why did you really order them sent to the funerary caves without consulting the rest of the conclave?” Sissy asked. She’d give almost anything to have Martha listening at one of Gil’s spy holes.
A gasp of dismay rippled around the room.
“Did you want to bury them as we buried Laud Gregor? Did you want us to forget the truth of our covenant with our Goddess and her family? Do you find the changes made to the covenant by our predecessors—changes that shift all power to Temple and Noble without regard to the welfare of the other castes we are charged to protect—more appealing than the truth?”
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