by Payne, Lee
The aircar had emptied out temporarily and the two men settled themselves in the front seats. Em ran his fingers reverently over the control panel. "We got what we wanted, Nol and I. At least I did. It as a grand, drunken gesture on Nol's part. He was showing off for the men, handing out people like they were trinkets. He regretted it later but I wouldn't let him back down. I had Silane but she wouldn't have me. I knew I had what I wanted. I also knew I couldn't keep her unless I changed. So I did."
Em seemed determined to unburden his soul. "I've never talked about this, even with Silane. Leahn was right this morning at breakfast. I was there when Nol threw her to the men. I did watch. But it was nothing new to me. I'd seen that and worse many times before. I just didn't care.
"Then, as time passed, I began to see Nol through Silane's eyes. The girls were very brave. They kept the worst of it from her. Nol may even have threatened to harm her if they told. I had other things on my mind. Maybe I just didn't want to know. By the time I saw what was happening, he had pretty much left them alone. It wasn't any change on his part. He was just tired of them and more involved in his so-called empire. I thought things would work out. Then you brought Leahn back."
He paused and stared out into the darkness. "I knew what he would do to her. And I knew I couldn't let him do it. If I let Nol kill Leahn I would lose Silane. I had already decided to kill him. But I was hoping something would happen to change things. Something did. But not what I expected."
He stepped out of the car. "You don't trust me, and that's all right. But thrust this. I'll do whatever it takes to keep Silane happy. As I see it, that means running this place the way the sisters want me to. That's what I'm going to do."
***
The sightseeing tours had ended and the travellers were stowing their gear aboard the car. "May I go with you?" Laral asked.
Leahn bristled. "Why would you want to go?"
"Why not? I've never been in an aircar."
"Too bad. We're full."
Laral surveyed the interior of the vehicle. "I don't take up much room. I could squeeze in next to Ohan. You wouldn't mind would you, Ohan?"
"Uh, no . . . well, no . . . uh . . ." Ohan coughed.
"See? He doesn't mind and I really should see the burial of the last king of the forest empire."
Leahn glared at her sister, at Ohan and at the Commodore who had already decided to keep silent. "Do as you like." She climbed into the rear seat. "I'm sure it's of no interest to me."
The Commodore was the last aboard. He took Silane's hand and kissed it. "Until our next meeting, madam."
After they had watched the lights of the big house grow small and fade into the night, Malie snuggled in beside him. "I don't suppose I shall ever fly in an aircar again," she whispered.
"Perhaps not, my sweet. But there are many even more wondrous adventures awaiting you." She no longer wore Feathered Shield's skin. That had been rolled up and carefully stowed in an overhead compartment. She was now wrapped in the brightly colored fabrics of the Commodore's former outfit. She was particularly fond of his big floppy hat with the plume. She had tied it carefully around her ears with one of his scarves.
"Is it lonely," he asked, "now that Feathered Shield has left you?"
"It was at first but he left me a sort of a present."
"Oh? What was that?"
"His memory. He said I could use whatever of it I wanted. It's kind of like opening a book. I've just gotten to the part where he was my age."
He thought for a moment before the full realization of what the child said, struck him. "You mean you possess the entire memory of the last king of the forest empire?"
She nodded sleepily. "I thought I would start at the beginning when he was a little kid like me and then go through it in order. That way it makes more sense." She yawned. "I can hardly wait to get to the part about sex. He had nine wives, you know."
"No, I didn't know that." He looked down at the little girl. She had already fallen asleep. "Just what the universe needs," he sighed. "A child like Malie with all the knowledge of an emperor."
Erol drove while Elor navigated. Flying the aircar out of the mountains was trickier than flying over the sea and it took all their attention. The Commodore, Malie and her basket occupied the middle seat. Ohan found himself wedged into the back between Leahn and Laral.
"You seem a little tense, Ohan," Laral said. "I understand the trip will take most of the night. You might as well relax and enjoy it. Would you like to rest your head on my shoulder? Ow!"
Ohan was startled. "What happened?"
"Leahn pinched me."
"Listen you little snot," Leahn snarled. "If you don't keep your hands off him, I'll do more than . . ."
"Ohan!" the Commodore hissed sharply. "We have people trying to sleep up here. I must confess, I don't know what they see in you, but if you're going to have a number of women, you simply must learn to keep them under control"
Ohan was dumfounded. "I don't have any women. They're not . . . I don't . . ."
By now the two girls had dissolved into helpless giggles. Probably, Ohan realized, at his expense. He found he didn't mind. He looked out the window. There was nothing there but darkness. He sighed and snuggled down between the two pleasantly warm women. He took care to lean a little more toward Leahn's side of the car than to Laral's.
***
They arrived at daybreak to find Alira, Kholran and the others anxiously awaiting them. They had been alerted to their impending arrival by the aircar's silent departure the previous day. There was a great deal of hugging and kissing. Malie seemed happiest to see her horse, Reddy, again. She immediately began a recounting of the journey and all the wondrous sights she had seen. It was here that the others learned of her newfound skill at rolling drunks.
"We knew you found the skin," Alira added when Malie came to that part of her adventure. "The skeleton's bones suddenly came apart and clattered to the floor."
The funeral was set for that evening. Malie said she knew exactly how it should go. She had skipped ahead a few years in Feathered Shield's memory to find the proper ritual. Though the burial ceremony was the last of the nine stages of a man's life, it was the first one that every young prince was taught—in case he had to bury his father.
The temple where Feathered Shield's bones lay scattered on the floor had been built in the densest of the narrow coastal forests. Malie picked a spot not far away for the burial. "But there are no water trees here on the coast," Ohan protested. "Didn't the ancients lay their dead in the shadow of the great trees as we do?"
Malie paused a moment in thought. "There will be a great water tree here in the years after we are done. The first ones grew from the bodies of dead kings."
As the time for the ceremony drew near, Malie borrowed the traditional dress Vardara had given to Leahn. The two sisters folded and pinned it so it fit the tiny child more as a cloak than a dress. Then Malie took Feathered Shield's skull and his bones, rolled them in his skin and rolled that in the white skins of his enemies. At twilight a solemn procession bore the remains of the dead king from the temple to the place where Ohan had dug the grave.
At its four corners he had set four bowls of burning resin, the smoke drifting up to alert the gods at the four corners of the earth to prepare a way for the spirit of the king.
Malie laid the remains in the grave and instructed each member of the group to drop a double handful of earth in on top of them. "A good man's body will rest secure under a large pile of earth laid there by his many friends. The evil man will have but few handfuls to cover him and he will become a meal for cats, his bones scattered in the dust."
When the grave was filled they all sat beneath the trees in the flickering light of the burning resin. Malie began to chant. Thin and hesitant at first, her voice took on confidence as the ancient words came to her. Some of the words and melodies were familiar to Ohan from his childhood, from ceremonies that had marked the passing of his grandparents and friends. Others of
the chants he had never heard before. But the wind, he thought, seemed to stop its rustling high in the trees as all the world bent close to hear the child's voice sing again the ancient songs.
His mind wandered to images of old gods painted in forgotten books. Did they still have ears to hear the words we sing to honor them? He fancied a stillness in the earth, the wind and trees, a stillness even the small creatures of the night were loath to break. A stillness so profound he never felt its like again.
Then Malie launched into a final song, an anthem of the forest people still sung through all the seasons, a solemn pledge to earth and sky and forest that the people whose blessings they provide would ever guard and protect them. Malie sang it through the first time, its ancient words little changed from those Ohan knew. He joined her then. They sang to the web of life to which both king and commoner belonged. The twins had been recording Malie's chants. Now they recognized the song and found it in their machine's crystal memory. It was the one with which Vardara's forest clan had closed their concert weeks before. Slowly it swelled through the silent darkness. The full rich voices of a people far away rose in an ancient song and pledge of life, an homage to a long dead king they never knew existed.
***
They spent the next day riding on the beach and playing in the water. Ohan rode and waded at the sea's edge. He was not yet confident enough to go in very far. He sat on the sand and watched the two sisters swim and splash with the children in the gently breaking surf. The slim strong beauty in them made his heart ache. The rhythms he knew so well in Leahn were repeated—the same yet different—in Laral. Together they played and pushed and laughed with a grace and innocence that reminded him of kittens he had come upon once, playing in their secret forest lair.
The Commodore was leaning against a log further up the beach enjoying the same scene. The children prepared a luncheon of fruit and seafood which he ordered brought to his log. "I've worked hard enough on this expedition," he declared. "I deserve at least one day off before the rigors of space flight."
The others joined him. Laral was amazed at the variety of fruit she had never seen before. They all sat quietly eating and watched the waves roll in from the wide blue horizon.
The Commodore raised a ripe melon in the air. "A toast, children, to clear skies, blue sea, warm sun, sweet fruit and dear friends. So many people on so many worlds will never know them. It is one of life's great sins not to enjoy a day like this whenever we chance upon it."
Leahn seemed distracted. "Speaking of other worlds," she said slowly, "I want to go with you."
Ohan was struck dumb.
"What?" cried Laral.
"I know you do, my dear," the Commodore said quietly. "I've seen it in your eyes for weeks."
Ohan felt the bottom falling out of his world. "Leahn, . . . you can't."
"Maybe not, sport. There may be rules against it. That's why I'm asking."
"Some worlds do have rules against their people leaving," the Commodore said. "But not this one and that's not why I'm turning you down." Ohan felt a great relief surge over him. "Our ship is a small one," the Commodore continued. "Mass and weight are carefully balanced against fuel and thrust. We simply cannot lift the extra weight and still get to where we're going next."
Ohan's joy was tempered by guilt when he saw Leahn's dejection.
"My brother and I have also watched Leahn's growing interest in the stars," Elor said. "It is unfortunate that our ship is so limited, for with her and her great sword as an added attraction, we might well triple our lecture fees on certain worlds."
The Commodore pulled out a melon seed that had fallen into his beard and studied it. "Shorten her tunic a bit and those little green lumpy guys on Pelman III would come unglued."
"And in the Anatarxes system?" Elor added.
"We'd have to keep her inside a barrier field."
Ohan's head was spinning. "Shorten her tunic? It's already too short. What are you talking about?"
The Commodore turned to Leahn. "I may have been a trifle hasty, my dear."
She laughed. "Did your ship just get bigger or was all that weight and thrust business a lie?"
"Elor!" Ohan cried. "How could you? I thought we were friends."
"We're sorry, Ohan. We know how you feel about Leahn. But we also know what she is feeling when she looks up into the night sky. She has a difficult decision to make. But it is one neither you nor the Commodore should be allowed to make for her."
"Now you see why I keep these fellows around," the Commodore said. "I make 99% correct decisions and they call me on the single bad one. Together we have a perfect score. The word 'lie' is harsh, my dear, but accurate. We can indeed, take you with us but the decision to go into space is not one that should be made casually." He settled back against the log. "I'm going to tell a story. Does anyone mind?"
No one objected. Even Ohan, his heart in his throat, could not turn away.
"There was once a race of people who lived on islands far out on a wide sea. These particular islands had beaches as white as the one we're sitting on and skies as blue as the one above us. Their sea was even larger than the one we sit beside. And these people were great sailors. They would take large canoes and sail off over the horizon beyond where man had ever been, in search of other islands. Some say the spirits in the sea and stars told them where to go and where to look—for they found every island, every single one.
"But to the people who stayed behind, the departure of the great canoes was a time of sadness for they knew they might never see their friends again. They might never know whether their children found new islands and prospered or were lost forever, for that sea was deep and its winds did not blow at the pleasure of voyagers. The songs of parting that these people wrote are among the saddest in the universe and are sung to this day in spaceports from one end of the galaxy to the other
"The voyage out to the stars can be a great and wondrous adventure. But the currents of time and space, blow only in one direction. Time carries us away far more inexorably than any wind on any sea. The lure of new worlds means leaving all you have ever known on this one, never to return. The journey back to the galactic plane will take us a few weeks. Were we to turn around and return here, little more than a month would have passed for us aboard the ship. But on landing, we would find that everyone we left behind had long since grown old and died. We would meet only your children and the children of your children.
"Some say those islands in the sea were as close to Paradise as man has ever come, yet he sailed off into the unknown then, just as we do today."
The Commodore raised his melon into the clear air. "From a day as perfect as this one, from friends as fine as these, man has ever sailed away."
***
Day faded to night and the Eye of God emerged to fill the sky, a little lower toward the sea than when last they saw it.
"Oh, my," was all Laral could say.
"I had forgotten we spent last night in the forest," the Commodore said. "Is it the first time you have seen it like this?"
"We see the tip of it sometimes at home and I've read about the impression it made on the early colonists. One of the reasons they moved into the highlands was to be away from the sight of it. Some of them grew sad to see how far away they'd come. I always wondered what the fuss was about. Now I see."
"And beside every point of light is a world or two," Leahn said, "waiting to be explored."
"That is the romantic view," the Commodore cautioned. "Most of those waiting worlds are nasty places, either too hot or too cold, locked in a mantle of methane or ammonia or perhaps in nothing at all—just a bare rock circling in space. They all lie long and tedious days apart and a lot of those that are inhabited do not consider themselves 'waiting to be explored' at all. Few places out there are as nice as this one right here."
"You don't want me to go?" Leahn asked.
"Not with unrealistic expectations that are sure to be crushed."
"I don't want yo
u to go at all," Ohan said.
"Nor do I," Laral added. "Though I think you're going to anyway."
Leahn stood up. "Come on, sport. Let's go for a ride." He followed her to the corral the children had built under the trees. They brought out the horses each had ridden over so many miles.
"Don't forget we're leaving in a couple of hours," the Commodore called after them.
"We'll be back," Leahn shouted as she urged her horse into a gallop. Ohan's followed almost eagerly, as if on this smooth hardpacked sand at the edge of the sea in the cool evening air, he had finally found a place where running was worthwhile. As they raced down the beach, the animal's stride lengthened and his breathing became deep and regular. He snorted and shook his massive head, perhaps to reject in advance any suggestions Ohan might care to make. Ohan hung on, marveling again at how he was sometimes able to abandon himself to the great beast's own rhythm, as if he and the horse were one.
Leahn was just ahead, galloping at the edge of the farthest reach of the little waves before they paused and rolled back to the sea. Each impression of her horse's thundering hoofs forced the thin film of water from the sand leaving a dry spot, an endless row of circles cut in the retreating waves. The sea and night sparkled with light from the Eye of God. Leahn's hair streamed out behind her as she rode. The loveliness of the scene tore at Ohan's heart yet he dared not close his eyes for fear of missing an instant of it.
They had ridden somewhere between an instant and forever, when she reined to a halt and dismounted. Ohan brought his horse to a stop beside hers.
"Climb down, sport. We're going to say good-bye."
"If we don't say it, if I turn and ride away, will you stay?"
"Climb down," she said softly. She was unlacing her tunic.
He tried to grasp her hands but could not stop their movement. She slipped the tunic from her shoulders. It fell to the sand. She reached for his shirt. Her image danced before him, blurred by tears.
