by J. D. Sonne
“But, surely, you would have realized that she did not mean it,” Rane broke in, so surprised not only by his connection to the Larad estate but also by this strange intimacy between a Lead and virul, that she jeopardized hearing the rest of his story by the interruption. “All couplings are arranged by the Titled over the Lead. Such things do not happen because of the strictures placed upon such acts. She would have been punished—severely. And you—well. . .”
“I would have been put to death! Yes! I knew all of that! But I was burning for her. I thought I was in love. Love for a virul—yes, I know it sounds ridiculous,” he said, obviously noting the scorn on Rane’s face. “But I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t know that she was grooming me.”
“Grooming you for coupling,” Rane said knowingly. “Again, dangerous consequences. That is such rare behavior in a Lead. I have heard of it, but personally know of no one who engaged in such a stupid --”
“No, you don’t understand,” Landman said. “Not grooming me for coupling with her, but—”he stopped, seeming to have run out of breath, but Rane sensed that he did not know how to go on.”
“Well, what could she have been grooming you for, if not sex?” Rane asked.
Landman hesitated for a moment, then said, “The Blooding Ritual.”
The words didn’t register for Rane at first. She had to reach deep into her mind for reference. When she found it, she looked at him in horror. “Those marks are from a Blooding Ritual?” Rane looked more closely at the startling marks and finally understood, bewilderment filling her. “No one has performed the Ritual for fifty years,” Rane said shaking her head, ice filling her. “No one would dare! Especially someone from Titled Larad house!”
The Blooding Ritual was from the early days of the rebellion. When the women of Maraquan reduced the males into viruls, not many of those who had been in power cooperated with the transfer, most wishing to self-destroy rather than adopt the life of a subjugate. But, some males wished to show their willingness to be part of the new order and bowed to the ritual to show their fealty. Rane remembered coming across some old parchment in her mother’s things depicting the ritual in all its gruesome glory. When she asked her mother about it, it took three days of the most persistent coaxing and whining to get a grudging explanation of the practice. It seemed that the ritual was banned because of the terrible mortality it inflicted on acquiescing viruls. It wasn’t that the new Titleds of the infant government order cared that much about the lives of the viruls—after all, stupid viruls had almost destroyed Maraquan—but they did care about diminishing their work force, so the Blooding Ritual was discontinued.
“How did you survive? And didn’t Titled Larad do anything about it? Didn’t she punish her daughter?”
“I think you have the wrong idea about Titled Larad’s estate, but Sondrae was never found out,” Landman said, shifting uncomfortably on the ledge. “But even if she had been, no one would have cared; therefore, I told no one.”
“Told? Didn’t they have eyes?” Rane asked in astonishment.
“She would draw out the Ritual so that the wounds she made would heal before the next round. For instance, she would cut the forearm, then wait to apply the knife to the upper arm, and so on. And not only that, but I loved her. I wanted to show that love, and the Blood Ritual seemed the best way to do it. I would have done anything for her.”
“Well, I would say that you succeeded. The only thing you didn’t do is die for her, but I guess you would have done that, too.”
Landman nodded. “I didn’t care about my life as long as she would allow me to spend time with her. But, eventually, she tired of me and chose another to couple with.”
“After all that, she did not even lie with you?” Rane said, surprised at herself that she uttered such a lewd statement. “I—I—I mean, as disgusting as it is, I would think that she owed you at least that much.”
“Well, a virul is just a thing, isn’t it?” Landman retorted, his sudden vitriol reeling her. “Why should she worry about a virul’s feelings or even his life?”
“Don’t get mad at me,” Rane said, easing away from him, her rump grating against the rock of the ledge. “I always treated my viruls well—”
“Like Talis? You almost killed him, and we were all watching! What have you done when no one was watching?”
She couldn’t answer for a moment. Indeed, it was as if he mined her psyche. “That was for discipline,” Rane said airily. “I cannot expect you to understand.”
Landman with all the force the sinew of his maimed arm would allow, thrust his arm in Rane’s face. “And, this was done for discipline, too! I thought it was love, but ultimately, it was all for discipline.”
Rane turned away and thought to leave the pond, but sat instead, thinking. The moment of fury eventually passed for both of them, but the wall of emotion between them kept them silent for a long time.
Finally, it was Landman who broke the silence, and to Rane’s surprise, he continued on with his story. “After she chose another for her coupling, I could no longer stay. I didn’t care what they did to fleers—in fact, I almost hoped that I would be caught and killed, even the punishment of being flayed alive did not worry me. In my mind, flaying would have felt better than the pain of being without her. I got as far as the lake, tried to make a raft to float across, and you saw how that plan worked out.”
Rane was glad that the anger between them was dispelled, but she asked her next question carefully, nevertheless. “But why did you never learn how to swim? Swimming is like walking to us here on Maraquan. I can’t imagine how you got along without it!”
Landman’s face took on a sheepish quality. “I lied a little about that. Of course, I learned how to swim in my early years, but after performing the ritual on me, Sondrae forced me into the water to clean the wounds. What neither of us knew was that the pool she found for me to wash in was a salt pool.
Rane winced, imagining immersing wounds like that in salt water. “By the gods, it is amazing you survived that pain.”
“The good thing about that was that the wounds did not get infected, the bad thing was that once Sondrae realized the medicinal qualities of the salt, she had me immerse myself in that pool after every ritual session. I hate to say it now, but I think she even enjoyed my screams. The look on her face—ever after, I never felt like swimming much. Whenever I would approach the water to try, I would feel so nauseous at the prospect of getting in that it became too much for me to manage. In fact, this is the closest I have gotten to water since, and I am amazed that I am able to even put my feet in like this. That I am actually sitting in the water is a miracle of itself—but at least, it is warm. It feels good.”
“Do you feel like you can get in?” Rane asked gently. “Or, if you want, we can come back another day.”
“Come on in you lamebrains!” Chun yelled from his rock where he had been sunning himself in the only column of sunlight that could penetrate the understory of the wood. “This is the pond of the gods!”
“No, I think I want to try,” Landman said. “I haven’t felt sick yet, so maybe that is a good sign.”
Rane jumped lightly in the water, keeping her head above the surface to as to keep Landman under her scrutiny. She did not want to overestimate his swimming ability or underestimate his past trauma. At the same time, she did not want to be like a brooding featherbrain over him, clucking and fussing at his every move. So, she just watched. Ready.
He eased himself in, and almost made as if he would exit the water, his back tensing with the flex of the upper arms to hoist himself up. Instead, he bobbed back in, his hand almost a part of the rock as he hung on. Rane saw his face tense for a few moments, then relax as he seemed to give in as the warm caress of the water infused his body with calm.
She wanted to say, Now, see? Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? But she forced herself to stay quiet. Let the beauty of the water say it for her, she reasoned, and as he pushed away from the ledge, she dec
ided that was the best course. It wasn’t long before Landman was moving over the water with a few tentative strokes, his body remembering that it was part of a water planet, his limbs understanding what to do.
Rane heard a loud splash behind her and felt the ripples from Chun’s entry into the pool. He bobbed up instantly from a dive and said, “Come on, Landman! Dive! Your gills will do the rest!”
To her surprise, Landman took him at his word and put his face under the water. Not a dive, but encouraging, nonetheless, and she watched him experiment with his gills, pinching his nose shut to inflate their membranes allowing water to siphon in. He did quite well for a few moments, then his hands shot out of the water, clawing for air, his head following soon after, mouth sputtering and gagging.
“You’ll get used to the gills again, but it might take some time,” Rane said. “Just try paddling around with your head above water to get the feel of it for a while.”
Chun mocked, “Maybe I should inflate a skin for you to float on!”
“Maybe I should use your skin,” Rane said, a feral smile appearing on her face. “You would probably make a good raft. At least then you would be useful.”
Chun began a retort, then looked at her face and seemed to think better of it. He was raised with leads, after all. He slunk down in the water, only his eyes showing for a moment, then disappeared, only the slight vortex of a swirl remaining.
It felt good to act the Lead again, if only for a few seconds. She had not had to use threats lately, and she realized that she missed that power. Persuasion and mutual respect were not as enjoyable as bullying to get obedience, but, she grudgingly had to admit that the latter traits were more effective. And Chun was her brother, after all.
But her feelings for Landman had nothing to do with persuasion, mutual respect or even a wish for obedience, and this was something new. It was as if he were her equal and she found it difficult to even refer to him in her mind as a virul. But, she argued with herself, that is what he was. What, do you think he is a Lead? She watched him as he tested his swimming reflexes and decided she admired him. Confusing.
Landman seemed to get “getting his fins,” a saying usually reserved for babies adapting to the water after their first toss, so Rane lay back in the warm water and took a measure of her surroundings. She swam the circumference of the pool, enjoying the cool spots away from the spring, twirling the recumbent vines that spread over the rocky banks, the clouds above filling her gaze. Chun and Landman were now splashing at each other, their virul laughter and chatter filling her ears.
She was at the far end of the pool when she saw it. She almost sank, surprise and excitement making her feet leaden and her arms weak. She caught at a vine and used it as a buoy to catch her breath and get control of herself. The viruls must never know. The familiarity of the peak rising over the forest canopy was not diminished by its base being obscured by the topography of distance. It was her very own Mount Termonos, the landmark of her sector, the jagged mountain that was as dear to her as her own lodge. She knew every vector of its surrounding hills, valleys and forests. It was the monolith beacon that would guide her home, and soon.
Rane made sure that her swim back to the ledge seemed as leisurely as it was fraught with angst. She tried not to rush Landman and Chun, but used the ruse that she still had work to do on the site before they lost daylight to quicken their steps. . Forcing herself to engage both in conversation to cover her nerves, she was almost charming as the three trooped back to camp, invigorated and cooled by the swim. Anxious to find a place where she could think, she stopped at the site, shuffling the parchment at her plan table, telling Landman and Chun she would join them in camp in a few pours.
She watched them disappear down the wooded path to camp, then took a parchment and sat on one of the troughs that had been overturned for the planers to smooth the next day. She held the plans for the next sector out in front of her for show in case someone came back to the site, but the parchment shook as she contemplated the momentous change in her since her glimpse of Mount Termonos back at the pond. Now that her bearings for home were established, there was nothing to stop her from escaping this virul camp. Survival in the wild was not an issue; she and every Lead had been trained to use the barest of resources to live in the forest. And, now that she had freedom in the camp, there was nothing to keep her from simply disappearing into the forest whenever she felt she was ready to go.
Then a silly thought entered her head. But, what about the waterwork? Who would finish it? For all of Landman’s abilities, she doubted that he would be able to oversee the work as well as she, if at all. He still asked her the most rudimentary of questions every day and she had to correct him often as he tried his hand at new skills of building. If she had another month and doubled her efforts at training him and the other viruls, then when she left they could carry on—
“What am I thinking?” Rane said aloud, amazed at her thought pathway. “What do you care? They have held you prisoner! They have established a community here that holds untold dangers for you and the other females, Leads and Titleds on this planet!” No, she returned to her thoughts and corrected herself. The dangers are not “untold.” All she had to do was remember the history of the wars and confusion of their world before Kagallen Rush took over and subjugated the stupid males. She shook her head. How could she have even a wisp of a second thought about leaving, and soon?
She dropped the parchment and put her head in her hands. The faces of individuals swam into her mind. Shrono, with his lumbering gait, but unspeakable work ethic; Shad, wanting to serve, her mind quick with figures; Chun, crazy with life, her brother, always the jokester; Bruse, steady, quiet, happy to work; even Scout, sullen toward her because of his misuse by Leads, misuse by her. She stopped and lifted her head. All of them had been misused by Leads and Titleds. That was why they were here. Rane herself was guilty of this misuse—no, call it for what it was--harsh servitude, torture and even murder. The faces in her mind practically shouted the truth at her. She was guilty; she was wrong.
Then there was Landman. His face supplanted all the others and a smile crept over her face. A warmth spread through her vitals as she thought of their time together, their talks and their laughter. She had learned so much about him, from him. That very day, he had shared his shame with her of having endured the Ritual. The Ritual! Landman had allowed her to mine his psyche and see the pit of his anguish at his torture by someone he had thought he loved. Love. She had never considered love except as a disgusting act that Leads and Titleds engaged in to beget children. But now she knew that love was much more-- somehow, Landman had made her understand. And that was a debt that she would carry the rest of her life, no matter what happened.
She stood and started pacing the site, no longer worrying about being seen. Her thoughts were too crushing to worry about such a paltry consideration. What about her mother and the friends she left back at the sector? What about the life she enjoyed at the lodge? What about her position on this world? She was a Lead, a daughter of Tollichet. She had a place back in her old life. She was being groomed for lofty pursuits and had no doubt that she was meant to take hold of some aspect of leadership and mold it for the better. It didn’t matter what it was. What mattered is that she had real power back in her world and could do much good for her people.
But, who were her people? Did their gender matter? She stumbled to the closest sector of the waterwork and gripped a support pole and put her forehead to its smooth grain. She thought back on all the beatings she had inflicted on the viruls under her sway. The disappearances, too, flooded her mind, especially the most recent Murman. All of them had seemed inconsequential at the time, but now the frightened eyes of those viruls flamed in her mind until tears coursed down her cheeks, and she started sobbing. “They were my people,” she said through her terrible sobs. “They were my people, too.”
She cried there, leaning against the ridiculous pole, for a long time. The sun was gone, and night’
s shadows crept across the worksite until the chill reminded her that she needed the warmth of the fire, food and most important, Landman.
Chapter Fourteen
“Shad.”
At first she did not hear Rane.
“Shad!”
The female started and threw wild eyes at the Lead, then relaxed back into her task of stirring the morning gruel. She laughed. “Oh, you frightened me, Lead Rane,” she said as she poured the porridge into the wooden bowls. She offered one to Rane. “Eat up! You have lost much weight over the past few weeks.”
Rane obediently took the bowl then said, “Shad. Today is the day. I am taking you to the site and install you as the counter.”
“But, Lead! Shad protested, “I have too much to do here! Let it be another day!”
“I warned you to get a replacement for your chores here for the day. Now, do it! I need you on the site.”
“But I have no one!” Shad was practically whining now. “And, I am the only one who—”
Another female—Rane thought her name was Winsla—was passing by their hearth at that moment and Rane grabbed her wrist, arresting her motion through their camp. “This one will do! Er—Winsla,” she said to the confused female. “I need you to take over Shad’s duties here. Will you be able to do that for us, perhaps just for the day? It is Winsla, is it not?”
Winsla nodded, seeming too flummoxed by her proximity to the intimidating Lead to speak. Rane shook her wrist amiably and let go. “Thank you! You would be doing us a great favor—one that will be returned, I promise you!”
After Shad gave a few instructions to Winsla, the female hurried on and Rane hoped that she was as good a cook as Shad. After all, it would be Winsla’s dinner they would be returning home to after the day’s work. She verbalized as much to Shad.
