The Sixth Discipline

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  ***

  Francesca made herself stop worrying and stay alert to her surroundings. Parts of the Hayden estate were forested, but she had never been allowed to wander through them because of predators. Now, she looked around and studied the trees with interest. The thick boles of the tall blackwoods grew straight up, many with no branches at all for almost twenty meters. The shorter, more slender lace palms always grew in tight clumps of eight or nine trees together, their delicate, feathery foliage mingling like a bouquet of flowers. Here and there a bower tree grew, its trunk bent over until the branches touched the ground, the tips snaking into the soil to form a second set of roots. Tea vines and copper moss covered the ground, especially around the blackwood trees.

  The effect of the forest was one of cool remoteness. The thickness of the foliage made it hard to see for long distances, and the light that came down filtered through the russet leaves until it had a golden quality. It reminded Francesca just a little of being in a chapel with stained glass windows. She could see how Ran-Del might feel strange in the bare openness of the Hayden complex.

  Francesca noted that the Sansoussy seemed to be following a trail through the forest, since there was always one clear path through the undergrowth.

  In the afternoon, a pair of young Sansoussy men approached, running toward them with a speed and freshness that suggested they hadn’t come far. Isayah hailed them, and gave a terse report of their journey. The pair raised a hand in acknowledgement, turned back and sped into the trees, disappearing in moments.

  A half hour later, Isayah slowed their pace a little. Already tired, Francesca hoped they would stop to rest soon. A second later, she noticed that a strange boxy shape surrounded one of the nearby blackwoods. She realized with a shock that it was a house. When she looked more closely, she saw dozens of houses, some with Sansoussy in front of them. All the houses were built of wood and hides, and blended in with their surrounding so completely that she hadn’t seen them until she was quite close. Many homes used one or more trees as corner supports, so the shapes of the houses were defined by the spaces between the trees. Until they moved, the Sansoussy also seemed to blend in, their clothing echoing the tans, russets, and browns of the forest.

  So this was Ran-Del’s village? Francesca glanced left and right, trying to distinguish the village from the forest. There were no formal streets, or even deliberate-looking trails. Narrow paths beaten in the dirt meandered between individual houses, with gardens planted in the spaces between them. Every house had two or three tea vines growing up its side, and Francesca guessed they weren’t there for ornamental reasons. The roofs of the houses were high, dome-like covers, some with flaps raised to let in the light and air. The only windows were similar open flaps, small and high up on the walls.

  There was little fuss at their arrival. A few people stood aside as they passed and stared curiously, but there was neither outcry nor cheering. Finally, they stopped in front of a large, rambling structure in the middle of the village. Isayah turned to the warriors, gave them a brief thanks, then dismissed them. Most of them immediately walked away but a few stood around, as if they were curious to see what would happen.

  Ran-Del lifted Francesca down from the lamel and whispered a caution. “Great-grandfather wants to see us right away. Remember to be polite, and show some respect for his age, if nothing else.”

  This assumption that she lacked manners nettled Francesca, but she recognized that the way she treated her father was vastly different from the respect Ran-Del accorded his grandfather.

  Isayah led the way. Francesca was glad she was following someone. She would never have known that the door was a door unless she had seen Isayah duck into it. All the doors were only waist-high. Francesca wondered why, since the buildings were obviously tall enough to stand up in.

  When Francesca straightened up, she found herself in what looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with pegs that held bows, quivers, knives, and clothes, and with shelves on which rested moccasins, tools, wooden bins, and household implements. A woman waited for them by another waist-high doorway. She had black hair, streaked with gray and pinned up in a bun, and bright brown eyes that looked anxious. As soon as Ran-Del straightened up beside his grandfather, the woman stepped forward.

  Ran-Del didn’t even have time to bow his head. She threw her arms around him in a glad embrace.

  “Ran-Del!” she cried again and again. “Ran-Del, you’re back!”

  Ran-Del returned her embrace just as firmly. “Yes, Grandmother, I’m back.”

  Francesca felt a hot rush of guilt. Her father had stolen Ran-Del from these people who clearly loved him, and now she had to face them.

  Isayah allowed his wife’s emotional display to go on for a few moments, and then he touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Father is waiting, Mina.”

  The woman let Ran-Del go reluctantly, and her eyes darted to Francesca. She took in the cable with one glance and frowned. “So it is true. Why would anyone do that? What could he hope to accomplish?”

  Ran-Del turned red and dropped his head in shame. Mina scrutinized him for a moment, and then raised her hand to brush his cheek. Francesca wasn’t surprised to see three golden-colored glass beads on her caste bracelet. What would it be like to live with people who knew what she was feeling, and maybe even thinking?

  “It wasn’t your fault, sweetness,” Mina said to Ran-Del, darting Francesca a look full of reproach.

  “Ran-Del and I will speak later,” Isayah said firmly, “after Father has seen him.”

  He ducked under the doorway, and Ran-Del followed. Francesca had no choice but to tag along.

  She found herself in a large room. The ceiling was higher than she had expected, more than two meters, and in places woven hangings hung from the hide walls. There were no windows, and none of the ceiling flaps were open except the one above the small fire that burned in a free-standing fireplace in the middle of the room. Several oil lamps hung from brackets on the narrow wooden pillars that supported the walls. Two large, flat-woven rugs covered most of the beaten-earth floor. The hide that made up the ceiling had been coated with something shiny that reflected the light and gave the air a golden glow.

  A large wooden chair stood against the far wall, and in the chair sat a very old man. His white hair had gone very thin on top of his head. His skin hung in folds from his gaunt neck, and his bright, black eyes looked at Francesca from a face that could have served as a relief map.

  He was dressed very like Ran-Del and the other Sansoussy men except he also wore an ornate leather cape trimmed with feathery tufts of fur dyed in bright blues and reds.

  Ran-Del stayed where he was, but Isayah went directly to the old man and bowed his head.

  The old man studied him and nodded. “You did well, Isayah.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  The shaman looked across the room. “Come closer, Ran-Del.”

  Ran-Del stepped forward with Francesca lagging a little behind him. When he stopped two meters in front of the shaman, she took another step so she could see better and watched to see what would happen.

  Ran-Del kept his eyes firmly focused on the floor, his head bowed.

  The old man spoke first. “It’s good to see you, Ran-Del.”

  Ran-Del lifted his head but still didn’t meet his great-grandfather’s eyes. “It’s good to see you, Great-grandfather.”

  “Look up, Ran-Del,” the shaman commanded.

  Ran-Del raised his eyes and looked his great-grandfather full in the face. The shaman studied him closely for several minutes and then turned to Francesca.

  “So this is the woman whose father caused all this fuss?”

  Francesca took this as an invitation and stepped closer. “I’m Francesca Hayden,” she said politely. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Ji-Ran smiled, a grin that showed that he still had all his teeth. “I greet you, also, Francesca Hayden.” He nodded as if approving of her in some way. “I am call
ed Ji-Ran Jahanpur.” He held out a hand. “Let me see this thing that has created such an intractable bond between you and Ran-Del.”

  Ran-Del stepped closer, and his great-grandfather took the flexitron cord in his hands. Francesca noticed that a mass of old scar tissue lined the old man's inner arm in a straight line from the elbow all the way down onto the palm of his left hand. On his right wrist, he wore a caste bracelet that was very like Ran-Del’s, except it had no red bead and no black beads, but it did have, just as Ran-Del had described, six glass beads the same color as Haven's golden sky.

  Ji-Ran Jahanpur touched the narrow band around Ran-Del’s wrist, then fingered the length of the cable, running his hands over every centimeter, which brought Francesca much closer than she had been before. He grunted. “It’s not so solid as it looks. Like any rope, it’s made of fibers.”

  Ji-Ran held the flexitron so that his thumb was right over the point where it was welded to the band around Ran-Del’s wrist. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and then tugged firmly.

  To Francesca’s amazement, the cable simply unraveled and pulled loose from the band. Ran-Del was left with the manacle-like band around his wrist, but the cord that had linked her to him was no longer connected to it.

  Francesca blinked, not sure she had really seen the cable come apart. When Ran-Del took two steps away from his great-grandfather, it sank in. The old man had somehow manipulated the flexitron without resorting to any kind of tool.

  Ran-Del breathed a sigh of relief.

  Francesca stood numbly while the shaman repeated the same miracle on her end of the cable. She flexed her arm. The manacle still circled her wrist, but she was untethered.

  Ji-Ran took the length of flexitron and handed it to Isayah. “Here. Someone may have a use for it.”

  Isayah wound the two-meter length into loops. “Yes, Father.”

  “Now,” Ji-Ran said in a pleased voice, “Isayah, you may take the woman to Mina. See that she has a place to rest, fresh clothes, and water to refresh herself. I will speak to Ran-Del alone.”

  “Yes, Father,” Isayah said, bowing slightly. He waited politely at the door for Francesca, who looked over her shoulder at Ran-Del. It sounded as if she were being treated as a guest rather than a prisoner, but somehow the idea of being without Ran-Del made her feel that something would be missing.

  Ran-Del smiled reassurance; Francesca decided against making a scene. She ducked through the doorway to find Mina Jahanpur waiting for her.

  “Come this way, please,” Mina said, in frosty tones.

  This, Francesca reflected, must be how Ran-Del had felt in Shangri-La—alone in hostile territory, facing unknown customs and strange surroundings with no one to ask for help. She followed Mina without a word.