Orion Shall Rise Read online

  ‘Yah,’ the fellow went on, ‘Clansfolk can afford expensive fun, Gott knows. They’ve hooked onto the best land, everywhere in the Domain, and got the biggest factories and what all else. And on top of that, they tax us.’

  ‘Ah, now, Friedri, they don’t. You know that. Our lords in the states tax us, then pay Himmelburg its due.’

  ‘What difference? Out of our pockets, however you reckon it.’

  ‘It’s not much, really. No, not much, next to what I hear the pysans get squeezed for in places like Espayn. And we get a lot for it, too. Safety, first and foremost. My uncle once thought he’d make him a bit of money as a mercenary beyond the Rhin. What he’s told me about war – No, you be glad, Friedri, glad for that big old moon up there.’

  ‘’Twas you called those two flyers loony, Hannas.’

  ‘Yah, that I did. I see a lot of funny doings and high living–wasteful, shameless – amongst the Clansfolk, ‘specially the youngsters. Not like it used to be.’

  ‘And on the backs of us groundlings. Mind you, I don’t want to rebel or anything, but it’s damn well past time we got more say in the Domain.’

  Such grumbling was on the increase. As yet, few people seemed to feel grossly oppressed, but many were restless. Change blew in on the winds from the sea, the winds in the sails of foreign ships.

  Faylis dismissed the thought and the guttural mutters. She sent her whole mind back aloft. Jovain tried a stallout in hopes his rival would overshoot, but the sunwings were not built to drop straight down and Iern quickly recovered position. The dance wheeled on.

  Which of them do I want to win? And why? What difference will it make?

  Iern is my man, my brash, heedless, faithless man. Jovain is – is what? Strong but tender, thoughtful, and underneath his armor, oh, how woundable. He loves me. Does Iern, any longer? Jovain is closer in spirit to Iern’s father, Donal, than to Iern. Much closer, no matter how antagonistic their world-views are. To them, power spells duty. (Yes, Iern is conscientious enough, after a fashion, but he just carries out his Clan obligations, he never looks for extra burdens he might assume. The nearest Jovain ever came to losing restraint and saying ill of him to me was that day as we left the Garden, when he called Iern ‘the golden boy’ and bitterness corroded his tone.) Jovain has been guiding me into the understanding, the reality, I have always sought, always since I was a girl and first began to doubt Zhesu. Later I, like those two poor workmen, began wondering if the Clans are perfect rulers by absolute right. Jovain has told me we can regain our legitimacy if we, like the ancestors, bestow something new on the people. They gave peace and prosperity. We can give Insight.…

  The Aurillac aircraft came around and made north toward the high, forested ridge. Relentless, the Ferlay aircraft dogged it. Faylis must needs admire Iern’s mastery, the way in which he steadily denied his opponent light.

  What if they go out of view? What if something terrible happens, and nobody is there to see?

  The contenders dwindled in sight. She struggled for breath. The servitors mumbled.

  On the edge of visibility over the treetops, tiny at its remove, Iern’s flitter suddenly reeled. Jovain’s slipped free of it, banked, circled, and rose like a shark toward it.

  Both disappeared from Faylis.

  She stood locked for a moment that went on. Shouts roused her. She raised a yell of her own, ‘Come, come! Bring the medical kit!’ and stumbled toward her saddle horse.

  Wreckage lay intertwined and scattered on the far slope. The sun stood at noonday and all breezes had died. From here you glimpsed houses, barns, sheds, windmills, in clusters along the northern horizon. Closer were rail-fenced wheatfields. Ghostly overhead passed the daily dirigible from Tournev to Marsei, and vanished.

  Parachuting from too low a height, Jovain had broken his right leg. He rested stoic on the grass and let a man trained in first aid tend it. The remainder of those who had accompanied Faylis stood aside in a nearly mute group.

  Iern had sustained no worse than bruises. He stalked like a panther to take stance before them and say bleakly: ‘We collided. That happens once in a while, you know. Collect the pieces and bring them back to my hangar at the airport for salvage. Make Clansman Jovain as comfortable as you can and transport him to the hospital. My lady and I will go home by ourselves.’ He offered no explanation of the long object, wrapped in a piece of cloth, that he held. Turning to Faylis: ‘If you please, madame, we have something to discuss.’

  She followed him for a hundred meters. He stopped, confronted her, and rapped forth: ‘Jovain tried to kill me. It was his idea from the beginning.’

  No – She stood more dumb than the servitors.

  Taking care to hide it from them, Iern unrolled the cloth for her. She saw a high-powered rifle. He reswathed it.

  ‘He must have had this ready in his cockpit, to use when he’d drawn me well away from everybody else,’ Iern related. ‘A crack, a whine, two holes in my fuselage and me a few centimeters off the line of them – I looked, and there he was, aiming his weapon. He was shooting through the skin of his plane. What could I do? These bugs are too slow for me to escape every shot he could fire. Instead, I crashed us and jumped.’

  She could not answer, she could not, nor could she tell if she could believe.

  Iern rattled a laugh. ‘We had a short session together on the ground before you arrived. I’ll yield him this, he swallowed his pain and listened. I said that for the honor of our Clan I wouldn’t denounce him. Officially, we had an accident. But I’ll keep the firearm, with whatever fingerprints of his are on it. I’ll also keep sherds of plastic with bullet holes in them. Who’d have thought to search for bullet holes in me? And he could’ve climbed, gone into a dive, and bailed out. He’d hide the rifle, and nobody would notice the punch-outs in what was left of either vessel. He’d tell the woeful story of how we got too close and collided.

  ‘What do you think of your Gaean mentor now, Faylis?’

  Darkness crossed her in waves. ‘What more will you do?’ came out of her.

  ‘Nothing, if he keeps his nose clean. Which means pulling back into his castle, minding his proper business there, having no more contact – ever – with us, you and me.’

  Iern swept her to him. Battle had turned the smell of him acrid. His breath bore the muskiness of rut. She had never liked that. At this moment she must fight not to gag. ‘By Charles!’ he exulted. Stubble scraped her cheek (Jovain’s beard felt silky.) ‘It’s been well worth the loss, disposing once for all of that son of a camel, hasn’t it, darling? Let the servants take care of things here. Let’s us start back right away, on the gallop. Are you going to get laid!’

  I suppose I can pretend.

  2

  Rain fell softly, like tears, through a gathering twilight. Beneath street lamps and lighted windows, pavement glistened wet. In this newer part of Tournev, houses built in the affluence that first blessed the Domain five centuries ago were mostly brick, tile-roofed, rearing three and four stories high; but steep façades, massive doors and shutters harked back to the unrest which had prevailed earlier. Faylis, who had grown used to her sunny modern town dwelling, felt as if their weight were on her breast. The going was lonesome at this hour, none but a few pedestrians like herself, a bicyclist, a carriage whose horse’s hooves struck with a measured dullness that reminded her of funeral drums. When she reached her goal and wielded the knocker, unseen fingers took her by the throat.

  The door opened. Observing the Talence crest on her cowl, the butler laid palms together and bowed low. ‘Madame honors this house by her presence,’ he said ritually but as if he meant it. ‘In what way shall we serve you?’

  She was barely able to reply. ‘I … must see … Major Jovain.’

  ‘I believe he is resting, madame. Does he await you?’

  ‘No … but … I must. He will want it.’

  ‘Please enter, madame. May I take your cloak?. … If you will please follow me, we will inquire the master’s wishes
.’

  The house was family property, but Aurillacs seldom visited these parts. Nobody was present tonight but Jovain, the entourage he had brought from Eskual-Herria Nord, and the permanent staff. Carpets whispered beneath Faylis’s feet as she passed between age-blackened wainscots from which portraits of the dead regarded her, up a staircase, and down another hallway to one of the suites. The butler took a speaking tube in his hand and glanced at her. ‘Whom shall I announce, madame?’

  ‘Not my name. Tell him – tell him I’m from Skyholm.’

  The butler looked surprised, but obeyed. Jovain understood. Gladness shook through his voice: ‘Yes, let her in!’

  She crossed to a room full of heavy antique furniture and deepred drapery. The door closed behind her. Jovain had climbed out of his armchair and leaned on a crutch. He wore a robe whose black velvet made him appear sallow beneath the gaslight, and she saw that the lines had deepened in his eagle face. Then he moved to meet her, and swung along nimbly. He can’t be too much hurt, she thought, and some of the load dropped off her.

  They stopped and stood before each other, gaze upon gaze, ‘I dared not hope for this,’ he whispered.

  ‘I would have come before, but: couldn’t get away,’ she told him as quietly. ‘I was terrified that you’d have gone home.’

  ‘I was planning to leave tomorrow. But –’ He wet his lips. She was profoundly moved, that such a man should be afraid of what she might say. ‘I could remain awhile if – Why aren’t you back in Skyholm?’

  ‘I told Iern I wanted a rest in more comfortable surroundings, after the shock of… of everything. He agreed to a week, and went aloft on the shuttle this afternoon.’ Why not? Anjelan will keep his bed warm, and somebody else after she’s gone. The idea angered her enough to burn timorousness off. She spoke louder, with no more hesitation. ‘I couldn’t come here before, and he mustn’t find out, because he’s forbidden me to have anything further to do with you.’

  Grimness responded. ‘What has he told you about the incident?’

  ‘Something I can’t really believe. That you had a gun and started shooting at him. That he had no choice but to crash you and bail out. He showed me the gun, but –’ Anguish smote. She gripped his free hand; her nails dug in. ‘It can’t be! Can it?’

  Jovain shook his head. ‘An absolute lie,’ he declared flatly. ‘He did cause a collision, on purpose. It sheared a wing off my plane so I couldn’t glide but fluttered down fast and couldn’t get free in time to have adequate parachuting space. Surely he meant for me to be killed. His propeller was broken, but he managed to keep altitude before he jumped. Afterward, while we were still alone, he showed me that rifle and threatened to accuse me of having brought it and used it, if I didn’t break off relations with you and stop taking an active role in Domain politics.’

  Sickened, she leaned against him. He positioned his crutch in a manner that let both his arms embrace her. His lips played across her hair. Through the soft cloth, her ear and cheek felt his heartbeat.

  ‘The rifle was his,’ Jovain said. ‘I imagine he had it in reserve. In case I wasn’t killed, I could be blackmailed.’

  ‘No. Fight back. Demand a Clan court.’

  He chuckled sadly. ‘My word against his. In fact, I can’t prove to you that I am not the liar, the frustrated murderer.’

  ‘He talked about fingerprints. Make him show them. And bullet holes in the fabric.’

  ‘They’ll be there, if they aren’t already. As for fingerprints, yes, I did handle the weapon, in my pain and amazement, when he thrust it at me. He snatched it back at once. His must be on it too. Not that any prints won’t likeliest be smudged beyond identification.’ Jovain sighed. His clasp upon her tightened. ‘No, what purpose could I serve by pulling the whole sordid mess forth? Nothing could be proved. There would only be scandal, and you, Faylis, would suffer the worst, though you are innocent of any wrongdoing. I can’t have that. Retirement to my beloved mountains is not a terrible fate.’

  She broke free, stepped back, clenched her fists, and cried into his face: ‘But why would he? He’s selfish and vainglorious and – and – but I never imagined he was a monster!’

  ‘Oh, he probably isn’t.’ Jovain shrugged. ‘Call it a base impulse that we can hope he will live to regret. He saw me as dangerous – a high-ranking advocate of the Gaeanity he hates, who has connections in the Espayn he distrusts. Mainly, though, I think the driving force in him was jealousy. He fears losing you, and knows you and I have been close friends in spirit, however rarely we meet in person. He saw a chance to get rid of me, and he tumbled.’ Pause. ‘Yes, let us give him his due. He could have finished me off as I lay helpless – smashed my skull with the rifle butt, then hidden the rifle. Nobody would have suspected. He contented himself with blackmail. It’s possible he never intended my death at all.’

  She shuddered. ‘Tell me that again,’ she begged. ‘Tell me, over and over. I have to believe it. That Iern simply went a little crazy for a while.’

  ‘Because you must live with him?’ Jovain murmured. ‘Must you? For that matter, he has no right to choose your associates.’

  ‘But – but he could make such trouble for you –’ Faylis gulped. ‘As for why I don’t leave him, I’ve told you. My family is rural, old-fashioned. If I did go, it would hurt my father twice over, because my father-in-law will likely be the next Captain, and Dad always says there’s too much self-doubt in the Domain already; the Captain’s household must stay pure.’

  She paced to a table where she let her fingers explore a cut-crystal bowl, something old, beautiful, enduring. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘Iern hasn’t mistreated me. By his lights, he’s reasonably kind and generous. We got married because of an infatuation, yes, and it hasn’t worked well but he does keep trying – not just the material things he gives me, but when he’s home he tries to be affectionate and patient – and even when his temper snaps and he storms out of the house, he’s soon back with a bouquet or an offer of a first-class restaurant dinner or whatever else he can think of. I admit I may have been doing less than my share in the effort.’

  She swung around to confront Jovain. ‘But he’s shallow!’ broke from her. ‘And now this. I thought he was at least honest, but after what he’s done to you –’

  The man crutched across the floor to her. At the hemline of his robe, she saw that his injured leg was not in a cast but splinted and swaddled. The fracture must be slight; it ought to heal without complications and meanwhile not handicap him too badly.

  ‘Darling,’ he said, ‘don’t go in fear of your life or anything like that. I’ve explained how this seems to have been an aberration. I can’t actually blame him very much. You are so lovely.’

  You are so noble, she wanted to say.

  He reached her. Again they stood close. Decision came. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I am going to stay in touch with you regardless. If you want me to.’

  ‘What else could I want?’

  ‘I need your, your guidance.… Let me write to you as I’ve done before. When you write back – I’ll give you an address where I can pick up your letters, your dear letters.’

  ‘I hate to think of you being clandestine,’ he said slowly. ‘You are too good for that.’

  ‘But I have to. For a while, till we’ve found how to change things around.’

  ‘Which we will!’ He took her to him and kissed her. She kissed him. ‘We will, beloved.’

  – ‘We have a week. … You aren’t completely crippled?’

  ‘Oh, no, Faylis, oh, no.’

  ‘I’ve never before – Be gentle, darling.’

  He was.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Having attained a measure of Insight, Vanna Uangovna Kim possessed a serenity about her life which was more than contentment or even happiness. Those all sprang from the certainty that she was One with Gaea.

  It was not that she was invulnerable. Pain and sorrow could strike her yet. They sometimes did, when she must witness the trou
ble of others. Reading history, she rejoiced that Krasnaya had long been at peace, in well-being, and knew that she did so on her own account as well as on her country’s, because she was spared having anguish around her.

  Just the same, Gaea being what She was, there were rewards in misfortune, if only those inner rewards that come from helping somebody else. Vanna strove never to be smug, but honesty – the fundamental honesty required by her vocation – forced her to confront such a sense of worth and growth. Well, she told herself, a muscle feels good when it is used, does it not?

  This was as she turned from the deathbed of an old man. She left him asleep and knew he would not awaken. Her words, her guidance through the mantras to the mediation, her final blessing had brought him ease; his body now believed what his mind already understood, that the time had come to let go. After his eyes closed, she impulsively brushed her lips across his, and saw him smile. He was still smiling a little when she departed.

  His family waited outside. As she closed the bedroom door, they rose and bowed low. ‘He is at rest,’ she told them. I think it will last until the end, which will surely come soon.’

  They bowed again. ‘Reverend lady,’ said his gray-haired eldest son, ‘we have no words fit for thanks to you. None other could have done what you did.’

  Vanna raised a hand. ‘Oh, you are overwrought,’ she protested.

  ‘I only talked with him. Be sure to have your physician come and see if any further care is needed.’

  The son tugged his wispy beard, as if he must have something to clutch. Tears shimmered at the edges of his eyefolds. ‘No, I beg to remind you, it was you he asked for, not a doctor or a priest but you. Else we would never have dared rouse a proróchina in the night.’

  ‘I would have been grieved if you had not. Your father served the Library faithfully for many years before his retirement. That the Library, in my small person, could requite him a little, that is an honor for which I thank you and your house, Tsai Ilyich.’