Desert World Allegiances

by Lyn Gala

  Naite seemed to think about that for a second. “I would want to find you, to help you before you did something too unforgivably stupid. People strike out when they’re hurt, and they don’t always strike out at the right person, so I’d argue for giving you a second chance before stripping your adult rights.”

  Temar was half surprised that Naite didn’t talk about exile, but then stripping a person of their rights was, in some ways, as terrible as exile. If he’d ended up in Ben’s custody with no chance of freedom, he would have preferred exile.

  “Wait,” Shan said, “I see where Temar’s going. Naite, last night we hid in that old crack behind the Kelligan farm. You remember that place?”

  “Yeah. I still don’t see where you two are going.” Naite crossed his arms.

  “If I were hiding, you would be about the only person who would know all my hiding spots in the valley,” Shan said, his voice growing more confident with each word. “Our valley is the largest of the three valleys, and a full search could take weeks. Maybe months if someone really knew the territory.”

  “And I do,” Temar added.

  “But siblings know each other well enough to know each other’s secrets.” Relief made Shan’s words tumble out, so that the normally articulate priest sounded young and breathless.

  “We didn’t,” Naite simply said, his voice flat. Temar could see how that shut Shan down. After listening to Shan’s drunken conversations with an invisible Naite, he could well imagine the secret the two brothers hadn’t shared until after they were grown. He wondered what happened to Yan Polli. He had vague memories of the man from his childhood, but then he just wasn’t there anymore, and no one had explained.

  “Cyla knows me that well,” Temar said before the brothers could get off track. “When Dad was in a bad mood from the pipe juice, we’d hide on Ben’s farm. There’s a narrow path that leads to nowhere. You can sit in the shade in the afternoon and see this half of the valley from there. And there are a dozen other spots where she’d know to look. But she wouldn’t want to help you.”

  Naite started nodding as he saw the advantage of the plan. “Which would actually be better. If she’s not cooperative, then I have good cause to keep her in my custody and try to convince her to help. Trust me, if she’s with me, she’ll be safe. I’ll gut Ben Gratu myself before I’ll let him touch her.”

  The look on Naite’s face was murderously clear, even in the light of the double moons. Temar didn’t realize just how afraid he’d been until the fear was suddenly eased. Even though he hadn’t really known Naite well before tonight, he did trust that Cyla would be safe with him. They would probably enjoy cursing each other out and trying to stare each other down. “But she can’t know,” Temar suddenly blurted. “She’ll want to kill Ben, so you can’t tell her about….”

  “I know how she’d feel.” Naite stood up. “So, as soon as I catch a hint of a rumor, I’ll go get Cyla, and that’s one row that’s plowed under. The second problem is getting you two fed and dressed in something that doesn’t make you look like refugees, straight off a shipwreck.”

  Shan stood up. “I know we need to clean up. Right now, anyone could track me from the smell, but we have to be careful who we trust. I was thinking of trying to get into town and taking refuge in the church with Div.”

  Naite stood up like he was going to follow, but he didn’t. Shan got a couple of steps down the path before he noticed that Naite was still standing by the boulder with his arms crossed. “We’d have to cover a lot of territory. Without a sled, we’d be lucky to get there by morning.” Naite’s voice made it clear that he didn’t like the plan.

  “It’s not like we have a lot of choices,” Shan said. “If Ben Gratu is involved, who can we trust? Normally, I’d call Lilian Freeland the most incorruptible woman on Livre, but she has power, and now that I know what Ben was doing behind closed doors, God forgive me, I’m wondering about the rest of the planet.”

  Instead of arguing that point, Naite nodded his agreement. “I’ve never been one for trusting people, so I’m not even going to try and defend Lilian. That woman will do whatever she wants, and if the rest of the world agrees or disagrees, I don’t think she cares. I say we go to Tom Sulli.”

  “Naite,” Shan objected loudly, but Naite held up his hand to stop him.

  “I trust Tom. After I left our farm, I was… I had trouble adjusting.” Naite made a face like he’d bit something sour. When Naite turned away from Shan and focused on Temar, his expression got softer. “At home, I learned to make trades that a man maybe shouldn’t. But once I’d learned to make that particular bargain, it seemed natural. It seemed safe. I tempted Tom more than once, and if that man had evil in him, he had every chance to show it.”

  Temar held his breath because he understood exactly what Naite meant. Every time he lay down for Ben, it had felt more natural, until Temar almost wished he was back there now. He’d hated being in Ben’s control, but he knew the rules there. He had a certain safety, as long as he could dance with the monster. But out here, things were more confusing and more dangerous. He wasn’t dancing with the monster; he was prey for it.

  “What do you mean, you ‘tempted’ him?” Shan asked. Temar glanced over, and Shan looked honestly confused.

  “Figure it out,” Naite suggested coldly. “So, Temar, do we try to make a run into town to reach Div, or do we trust Tom?”

  The question curdled in Temar’s stomach, because as much as he wanted to reclaim the control that had been taken from him, he didn’t want it. He had trusted the wrong people and made the wrong choices, and he didn’t want to make this decision. “Do you trust him?” Temar asked, his voice coming out so soft he wasn’t sure they could hear him.

  Naite nodded. “With my life. More importantly, I trust him with your life.”

  “Shan?” Temar asked. He looked at the priest, hoping to find some sort of guidance.

  Shaking his head, Shan returned to his brother’s side. “If we get caught, I will never let you forget that I thought this was a bad idea, Naite,” he said, but he passed them as he walked toward the Sulli farm.

  “And if we don’t get caught, you’re going to give your God credit. You never do change.” Naite’s words didn’t come out as condemning as Temar expected… they sounded almost fond. Sometimes he and Cyla would fight the same way. They had a game where they pretended that the terraforming ships came with a wealth of water and new settlers, and they fought over what they would do with the money. Temar would purchase an internship with Dee’eta Sun and hire out workers to pull every pipe trap out of their land. Cyla would argue for selling the land and investing the money by loaning it out to the settlers until she could get enough profit to buy the whole damn valley. Naite’s voice had that same exasperation that Cyla had when she would explain the advantage of interest and the credit system that ruled most of the universe.

  However, Shan was quicker with the comeback than Temar normally was. “At least I don’t think the world ends at the edge of the field.” The verbal jab didn’t seem to bother Naite much.

  “Easier to live in a field than a cloud.”

  The brothers continued their half fight in whispers and hand gestures that grew more and more animated as they walked the dusty path. Temar hadn’t noticed how close Naite had come until the man’s shoulder brushed against him. He lost a half step as fear curled around him. He looked up, expecting anger or lust, but Naite was looking at his brother with a sort of fond disgust. In fact, he was ignoring Temar so totally that he continued to walk, leaving Temar a bit behind, trotting to catch up. Shan was so caught up in the fight that he was too busy to even look at Temar with pity and guilt, and Temar only realized how much those emotions had weighed him down, once they were gone. He hurried up and reached Naite’s side again, walking next to him as the brothers’ fight grew more and more heated. It was strange listening to real anger seep into the words, even though they were still talking in whispers.

  “Okay, peace, alread
y,” Naite whispered.

  “That’s right, call off the fight when you’re on the verge of losing it.” Shan’s whisper sounded so genuinely aggravated that even Naite stopped and gave him a second look.

  “I’m calling off the fight because we’re coming up on the Sulli buildings. I don’t think you want to get caught out here, but if you want to get caught and trust your God to fix it, go ahead.” Naite stepped to the side and gestured up the path. Shan glared, but Naite shook his head and ignored the expression. Maybe, like Temar, he couldn’t figure it out.

  “You two need to hide while I go in and make sure the way is clear. If it isn’t, I’ll find come excuse to bring a hauler out, and we’ll have to hide you and hope no one smells Shan. No offense, but as bad as you smell, Shan, you need to hide here.” He gestured toward the end of a long fence with grape vines nearly burying it. “I’ll take Temar in closer.”

  “What?” Shan took a step toward Naite, his fists clenched, and Temar backed up, really not understanding the relationship here.

  Naite didn’t look particularly threatened, but he was a good fifty pounds heavier than a healthy Shan, and Shan wasn’t healthy right now. He was a stick-figure version of himself, and Temar wanted to grab his arm and pull him back before he did something to anger Naite too much. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of Naite striking out or of him just leaving. He and Shan couldn’t do this alone. Ben had too many people, and he had hidden his tracks too well.

  “If one of you is found, that won’t be the end of the game. If Temar is caught, he just needs to keep quiet, and Ben will assume he’s still controlling the boy. It’s going to take a lot for Ben to believe Temar would turn on him, isn’t it?” Naite looked at him. For a second, Temar had to think about that. In the end though, he could only nod. Ben might believe he panicked or that he tried to get away, but he would never believe that Temar would plot against him. He certainly wouldn’t feel threatened, not until he had proof.

  “And if you’re caught, no one is going to listen to anything you say as long as you smell like you’ve been swimming in pipe juice. Besides, from the story you told, you didn’t actually know much before Temar filled in the blanks. Use your head for something other than praying, Shan. I’ll take Temar in a little closer, since we need to get him inside quicker.”

  Shan opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then he took a step backward without unclenching his fists.

  “Come on, Temar. You can hide behind the compost.” Naite moved toward the farm more carefully.

  Temar looked at Shan for some sort of explanation, but Shan looked away and knelt down beside the grape arbor, in the shadow, so even the moonlight didn’t reach him. That didn’t leave Temar much choice, and he went trotting after Naite, still not understanding the currents around him. He never did understand people well. He didn’t understand his sister’s anger or his father despair. He didn’t even understand the kids at school, so his sudden inability to understand Shan shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still upset him somehow. Ever since seeing Shan drunk, he felt like he had some sort of key to seeing what Shan really had inside. It was like Shan had gone from being an untouchable part of the church to a real man, with hopes and fears and this incredible sense of honor, and for one moment, Temar had the key to understanding him. Now someone had taken that key away.

  Naite was moving fast, now that the buildings were coming into view. The Sulli place was much smaller than the Gratu farm. The main house was tall and narrow, like Ben’s. The early buildings had corner struts of steel that allowed them to stand tall and square without buckling in the wind. However, the buildings added later used windwood, with sloping walls to shrug off the wind that snuck into the valley during storms. Temar didn’t come out this way often, and he didn’t know which buildings had workers and which had storage and which stood empty, waiting for harvest.

  Naite stopped near a tall round tank that pointed up toward the sky, and Temar ran to his side, his heart pounding with fear. There were men and women nearby who would look at him with pity and hold him down and call for Ben to come get him. They would congratulate Ben on his patience and tell Temar to be grateful that he had such a good master. The thought made his stomach twist with a need to vomit out all the fear.

  When he stopped, he stopped close enough that his leg pressed against Naite as they crouched.

  “Okay, I’m going to go talk to Tom. Temar, you do… you understand why Shan came to me, right?” Naite’s voice was normally clipped and fast, like he didn’t have time to stop and talk to someone while work needed to get done. But now he sounded almost like Shan.

  Temar nodded. “Shan said things. He was drunk.”

  “Shan still is drunk,” Naite corrected him, the edge back in his voice, but then he sighed, and his next words were soft again. “I don’t know how much he let slip when he was talking to the invisible fairies in his head.”

  “He said your father did the things that….” Temar stopped.

  “That Ben did to you,” Naite finished for him. “Yeah, he did. And that’s why Shan knows that I will kill someone before I let that happen again. I’m not the boy who offered to warm Tom’s bed, just for a promise that he wouldn’t make me go back to my father.”

  Temar had been studying the pattern of the shadows on the dust, but he looked up at that.

  “I won’t let anyone turn me into that again, but I’m not going to feel bad about what I did back then either. It didn’t make me weak—it just made me a survivor. It’s like being in one of those survival vids, where people in a disabled ship eat the dead to stay alive.” Temar’s stomach was really churning now, and he wished Naite hadn’t brought up the topic at all, but Naite kept going. “But don’t think that Shan doesn’t have issues of his own. He’s about as likely to have a self-enlightened moment as a sandcat.”

  “He’s the priest,” Temar objected. Shan had rescued him, and he felt some obligation to stand up for the man. Even before everything had gone so very wrong, Shan had always been kind, and he’d spoken with a slow calm that made Temar believe there was a bigger purpose to life… that God was looking out for him. True, recent events had shaken his confidence a bit.

  “He is what he is,” Naite answered without really answering. “If you’re going to take out your piss and vinegar on someone, take it out on Tom. He can handle it better than Shan. Deal?”

  Temar nodded, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. Naite gave a deep sigh before he turned toward the house and strolled up, like it was perfectly normal for someone to come calling in the middle of the night. It was so late even lovers would have given up the privacy of the field, and the children would have fallen asleep. However, Naite walked right into the front door of the Sulli house, and now all Temar could do was wait because, for now, it was all out of his control. He found that a relief.

  Chapter 16

  TEMAR didn’t have long to wait before Naite came back out, but he walked around to the side of the house. Temar ducked down lower, fear crawling through his belly. He hadn’t always been afraid all the time, but now he couldn’t control his own emotions. After a few seconds, Naite returned, pushing a wheelbarrow.

  He walked over to a circle in the yard. It was a stone circle, no more than six or eight inches high, with a metal cover about two feet in diameter. Naite pulled the cover off and then dumped the contents of the wheelbarrow down into what was obviously some sort of well. After he put the cover back on, Naite started pushing the wheelbarrow toward Temar.

  He moved silently in the dark, and when he came around the corner, he stopped and flipped back a canvas cover Temar could see attached to the metal frame of the wheelbarrow.

  “Get in,” Naite said.

  “But—”

  “It’s not that unusual for me to help Tom out if things get busy around here. But a small, blond man is going to stand out. Just get in.” Naite’s voice grew gentler for a moment. “It’s okay, Temar. We’re only going as far as the house.�
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  Temar looked at the wind-worn house and the large yard that separated his hiding place from the front door. With a nod, he crawled up into the wheelbarrow and curled himself into a tight ball. Naite flicked the canvas over his head, and then Temar felt the world tip and tilt as Naite pushed him toward the house.

  The darkness, the silence, the sense of the world swaying, all combined to make the bile rise in Temar’s throat, but before he could throw up, the wheelbarrow thumped down onto the ground, and Naite pulled back the canvas cover. “Go,” he whispered, nodding toward an open door.

  Temar swallowed as he looked at that black doorway against the gray night. Run into it. Run into the unknown. His heart pounded so fast that Temar could feel the pulse in his skin, feel the pressure building behind his eyes.

  “Go. I’ll go get Shan.”

  They needed to get Shan inside—he was in even more danger than Temar. Ben liked his games too much to give up a playtoy, but Shan… if Ben or Ista Songwind found out he was alive, they’d kill him. Temar gave one quick nod before he climbed out of the wheelbarrow and dashed for that door.

  “Temar?” a voice whispered the moment he crossed the threshold. Temar nearly turned around and fled back out into the night. “I’m Tom. Naite told you about me, right?” A very small light turned on, and now Temar could see the shape of a man sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. He was a large man, and his gray hair shone in the dim light. Tom Sulli. Temar vaguely recognized him from the season-end festival.

  “You held his slave papers… after his father hurt him,” Temar answered. In the dim light, he could see Tom nod.

  “I did. Naite says you need help.” When Temar didn’t answer, Tom continued. “Naite’s going to bring Shan in the same way, but we may need some help with him. From the way Naite described him, he’s good and drunk. The last thing we need is a drunk priest, waking all the field hands.”