Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Five Read online

  She held two tiny cups and waited for his response. If he said no she’d understand.

  “What did you make it from?”

  “Something local. A bit different from town, but it works fine,” she said.

  He picked up the cups for her to fill. Now why did she agree to a meal in a remote location and bring wine? “I guess life here isn’t as bad as it seemed at first.”

  He tried the wine. It was water. She’d watched him make the discovery, and now her face burst into a grin.

  “By Bue, Maike, you don’t half know how much I missed talking to you. I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave this place.”

  “Is that all you missed? Normally it’s very quiet here, Aryan.”

  “So I heard.”

  “Nothing stops you from coming to live here, you know. You don’t have to leave the planet if you don’t like town.”

  He knew that, but he’d come on SJilai as the pilot, not a settler. He had no job here. “I miss her. I miss those glorious days of the journey, when I knew what I was worth.”

  “You mean you’re feeling useless, like Tigor?” she asked.

  “Useless, no. Out of place, maybe. There’s no excitement and I’m no farmer.”

  She handed him a rolled-up flatcake with a mushy mixture of yellow and brown inside. It was cold. Copying her, he fished out the contents with his fingers; a picnic the Kun DJar way. It wasn’t half as bad as it looked.

  “What about the ocean, Aryan?”

  “I’m no fisherman either.”

  She produced a real Maike laugh, her eyes wide open and dimples in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean you should go fishing. You could build a kabin with those big reeds Erwin used. Take it out as much as you like. Maybe take some scientists on a trip; explore the ocean, the other continents, the islands. You’d be a pilot again in a way. You’d be navigating the water.”

  “Maybe.” Would that give him the same thrill as space had? At least he’d have a woman to return to. Would she have him back like that? Would she have anybody after Thalo?

  But it hadn’t been the first time; the Geveler detention camp had been her introduction to what freedom meant for women. No more free than Depeter was, Geveler rule was more subtle and therefore harder to fight. Where on Depeter the people stood together, even if in silence, on Geveler every person had stood alone.

  Only yesterday Aryan had considered them all mad to return to arocracy, a technologically poor, tribal community, headed by one authoritative kollen. Aryan had believed arocracy to be the way Depeter had been ruled: a tyranny backed by soldiers, in which one person assumed he was somehow entitled to dictate the rights and wrongs of others by merit of the power of his status or the amount of points he had.

  But Benjamar didn’t claim either status or points; not here, anyway. He had taken authority openly and declared to the people that he would not let them vote again. Benjamar had stood up and said everything that would have been inconceivable on DJar, everything that was related to suppression in the vocabulary of Geveler. He had taken away every illusion of equality and electorate government, but in doing so he had taken away the deception as well. Benjamar had stood alone, needing no more than the power of his words to be accepted, no guards to reinforce his command, no laws to make people do his bidding. He had made himself subject to all the criticism people could come up with, but very few had. Benjamar had gained sovereignty in this village, because he already had it; because of who he was, who he dared to be. That kind of authority Aryan had no problem with.

  He emptied his cup. Water was as good as wine when thirsty; better.

  “I like having you here, Aryan. Bue knows I couldn’t have done without your help these last days.”

  “I thought you said it was normally quiet?”

  Instead of replying she refilled his cup. The contour of the bush against the half-dark sky was like her hair against the rock; on all sides it seemed to break free of its restraints. She was gracious. It didn’t matter that she was sitting in a patch of dry soil at the edge of a field. There was nothing fancy about her these days. He loved it better.

  “Maike, there’s something you should know.” He’d take his chances with another confession as they seemed to be the road to a woman’s heart. Even on SJilai the women had taken the side of men who didn’t play the hero – Kunag with his soft-spoken determination and Wilam with his inability to control his emotions. They would never become soldiers, but they had stood their ground when it was important, unafraid of being afraid and still doing it – true courage. And if not… What had Leni said about trusting the other person to do the right thing?

  “My fear of animals?”

  Maike nodded.

  “When I was young my father used to lock me into a shed full of small crustaceans I couldn’t see. That was after he beat me. I was so scared of that shed that I used to wish he’d not stop hitting. I think I may have even enjoyed it. So that night in the hills, what you said? Maybe it was just a little too close to the truth, you know?”

  Her hands still rested on her legs, waiting, like she was.

  “I know this is an awful thing to say, but ever since I heard what you did on Habitat Three, I… Do you think Rorag could have been right about the people who watch?”

  Her eyes were two small lights burning into him. “We’re still animals, Aryan. No more, no less.”

  “Do you think it’s sick?”

  She relaxed her pose. “Nay.” She poured the last of the water before putting the jar back into her pack. “You could have told me, you know. That you were afraid.”

  “I thought you’d laugh at me.”

  “I don’t laugh at fear, Aryan.”

  He should have known that. It was he who had.

  “So what’s with Jema fighting you to the end?” she asked, leaning back against the rock.

  “Why? Are you worried I didn’t honour our challenge?” he asked.

  She slowly shook her head, but didn’t answer. Now why would she ask if she wasn’t a little curious about it?

  He didn’t want to push his luck, so he watched in silence as her chest moved up and down in rhythmic motion without sound.

  “I thank you for saying sorry, Aryan, but I’m not without blame either. I should have told you about the belting and about Thalo’s note. I wasn’t angry at you that night. I was angry at Leyon for telling, and at myself.”

  Aryan knew that. It was what Daili had said.

  The moon was coming to mid-sky. They both looked at it.

  “Do you think they’ll go through with it? I mean, who says she won’t run?” he asked.

  “She said she wouldn’t.”

  “What about Benjamar?”

  “Benjamar will do what has to be done. He always does,” Maike said.

  Aryan tried not to picture the Society hearth, but failed. “What if she gets scared?”

  “This isn’t DJar, Aryan. Here our word is our honour. It’s all we have. She promised she wouldn’t run and I trust that she’ll keep that promise.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I truly hope I’ll never have to make that decision,” she replied.

  Why had she voted against Jema in the end? But he didn’t ask. “If it was me, I think I would. Cower out, I mean,” he said.

  Maike stuffed the leftover food into the pack and pushed it away from her. “You didn’t run before. You faced Markag. And cowards don’t overcome drinking cycles, Aryan, nor do they conquer their own fears. You never did what people told you, but you do things when you feel they’re right. That’s what I like about you. You’d never be a soldier for anybody’s army the way I was. I ran from Depeter to become a soldier to the new order and I failed to see that it was the same thing. Worse, I did it again here. After complaining about all these fighting men, I collected the guards and was ready to stand behind Roilan.”

  “Don’t you start feeling guilty now. You’re okay, Mai. Not every soldier is a bad guy. Most just aren’t very clev
er, but those are the men with their aggression. They need to be on top all the time, for power. It’s instinct.”

  She started to laugh as if he’d made a good joke, pulled the fibre string out of her hair and shook her head vigorously. “You’ve got that totally wrong, babe. I agree that the male is the aggressor, but it’s exactly his desperate need that causes him to be subservient. It is ultimately the female who holds the strings, Aryan, and it’s been like that from when people were just big nobis.”

  Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight with the pleasure she got out of saying this. She sat on her knees and cocked her head. “Didn’t I make you wait this long?” she asked. “You came begging. You drowned yourself in wine. You were ready to burst. Some things never change, Aryan. Here we have no rules or pretences. We can go back to being animals and rely on instinct.”

  It didn’t take more than her hands pushing him over to understand why she’d said all that.

  “Don’t ever make me wait this long again,” she said then, contradicting her previous words, and climbed on top of him, purposely leaning down on his shoulders so he couldn’t move.

  “I never wanted to, Maike.”

  She’d still have him and he would let her. He surrendered to the pulsating waves that threatened to literally burst him and the smell of sweet heat. He buried his head in her stomach while her hands worked to remove the material animals didn’t have to bother with. No more words. He measured her timing to the rate of his heart. She struggled with the buttons long enough to be off guard, so he picked her up to reverse the roles. “You’re no good on top.”

  His hands found her legs and pulled her away from the rock until she was flat on the bare ground. “By Bue, woman, I must have been mad.”

  He stopped a moment to take in her scent, the sweetness which poured out of every part of her skin. “What is it, the smell?”

  “My new perfume, Aryan. It’s called ‘pheromones’. DJar didn’t have any.”

  It tasted as it smelled and intoxicated his brain far better than wine could. Unable to stop himself he moved in. The oasis of her body was the home he had longed for. With his mouth he lifted her blouse to make space for his hands. She pushed hers against the rock above her head to counter the pressure of his arrival.

  From the way she purred he knew she, too, had been empty for way too long, so he filled her. He pushed on until she cried out loud.

  “Oh Bue, oh Maike. Forgive me for leaving you.”

  She giggled. “Do you know what you get when you remove the prayers?”

  It was too late to answer or think about that. It was a wild beast he unleashed, which only she could tame. For the moment he drowned himself in the power of nature. He’d be subservient, if he must, to this woman. He would never leave Kun DJar without her.

  “It is time. We have to go,” Yako said, entering the Hearth. He’d been keeping an eye on the moon and had been to Leni’s home and back. The rest of them had long since finished eating, but none had moved. A bit lost, they’d waited for this moment.

  After Yako had come back to say that Marya would kill them all if they didn’t turn up for meals again, Benjamar had taken the girls to the Hearth. Jema might have preferred it if Marya carried out her threat, so Benjamar had insisted she not be left alone. She might consider that an insult, but she had accepted it.

  She sat in the corner. She had neither spoken nor eaten and had her face hidden inside her arms the way she had throughout most of the trial. Aryan and Maike were not there. Laytji sat pouting at the back, after having received a scolding – from Nini, of all people – for saying “serves her right”. The rest of them were subdued by the news, which Kunag had been most upset to receive. “She was only trying to help me!”

  Remag had come home to this gloom after having been away since yesterday morning to determine whether the troop that had attacked Kunag were the same as those they had previously befriended, and, after being briefed, put a whole new light on the events. “But I was the one who told Frimon when I met him that night. He was looking for his son, worried sick, so I told him I’d seen the boys swimming in the stream. I didn’t realize that was forbidden.”

  This forced Benjamar to once again rethink his assumptions and he felt quietly relieved that he’d gone with Nini and left Laytji out of it or she would have been falsely accused based on interpretable factual evidence and emotional unreliability.

  All in all, it wasn’t the best meal they’d shared together around this Hearth. It was almost a relief to see Yako return.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Jema stood up and let him take her arm. Benjamar dragged his own body off the ledge once more. There was no going back. He had never meant it to be more than a threat.

  “Benjamar?”

  “I’ll make sure she comes back to you, Nini. We won’t leave her alone,” he promised.

  Nini didn’t want to come. She’d been offered, since she was the closest thing to a relative Jema had, but both Nini and Jema had said no. Now, he left her standing in the entrance, holding Jema’s cloak, watching them go.

  Apart from their footsteps, it was silent outside. In the distance there were more people headed for the Society hearth. News spread fast – even faster when it came to penance.

  “Don’t explain,” he had Yako tell Leni. “Let them gather. We might as well deal with it once and for all.”

  Jema kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. Now and then she sighed audibly; in between she seemed to hold her breath.

  “Here, have mine,” Yako said, holding out his cloak to her, as she was shivering. He also carried that reed she was supposed to bring.

  Jema jerked away. “I don’t want it.”

  Benjamar shook his head at Yako, who should have used his brain.

  She had been right to push for a change. This village was going to be different; harder on pride and righteousness. In doing so she was the first to pay for the presumed right to give an opinion before it was asked. She wouldn’t be the last.

  When Benjamar started seeing the heads of those assembled, he stopped Jema. “Listen to me, there’s a large crowd there. They will not be happy with just an apology. They’ll shout and get angry. Just say what you have to say and go with Yako. Don’t answer them. Let me deal with it.”

  She looked up just long enough to indicate she understood.

  The same fire that had eaten Frimon two days ago was burning low at the centre of the Society hearth. From around it the crowd watched them arrive. Leni and her children stood at the entrance of her home, behind which was the quickly-erected reed dome in which Frimon’s body lay waiting. Jema stopped to look at it. Benjamar took her arm and pulled her close to him. She had better be ready now. “Let’s get this over with.” He scanned the crowd. Some were intelligent enough people who should know better than to be here.

  “We didn’t even get time to eat before they started hanging around,” Leni said.

  It was clear this had to stop, but one look at Jema brought down all hope. The resolve to stand up straight had gone, and her eyes failed her. The moment he loosened his grip she more or less threw herself into Anoyak’s arms, seeking protection as he had once found with her.

  “Forget the apology,” Rorag said. “They don’t deserve it, anyway. They think they know Bueror’s words, but that’s all they know; they don’t understand him. Jema did, even before she knew his name.”

  Now he was praising Jema?

  “She just can’t do it.”

  Benjamar conceded. “Okay, you people go inside then.”

  Leni took the reed off Yako. Jema would carry it and she would walk herself in. No mercy there. Benjamar watched them go. Maybe he would never understand these people.

  As they saw the objects of their attention disappear into Leni’s home, the people became restless. Benjamar now took his own deep breath before turning his back to the shelter. He put up his hands. Slower than normal, they responded. He would have liked to walk away as well, but
he couldn’t. For the rest of his life he’d be making speeches. He dropped his hands only when it was totally silent.

  “How many of you actually belong to the Society?”

  His question was unexpected. Reluctantly the hands went up. Not even half of them.

  “How many of those have recently joined?”

  Like children in a Learners class they obediently raised their hands again. Last question: “How many of you were here two nights ago?”

  Definitely not all of them. His brusque manner sent some of them walking; those who had no intention to wait for a scolding. Good.

  So he started yet another speech, repeating what he’d said yesterday, emphasizing the changed situation. They might feel they were here to see justice done or to see a penance. They might think they had the right to do so since they were Society and that Benjamar didn’t have that right. “However, we are no longer a colony of DJar. We are now a kennin of Kun DJar. The people of this community will no longer be divided. Those who live by the rules of the Divine Star have the right to do so and do not need to segregate themselves. But some things will change.”

  He had to pause for the humdrum of the disappointed crowd, who’d realized they would not be witnessing a public belting. Once more he let his eyes go over them. The noise subsided.

  “I want you all to listen to me very carefully and understand that this is not entertainment. I also want you to be aware that this will no longer be the way of the Society. It never was before we came to Kun DJar. At Leni’s request this is to be a private penance the way the Society has done it for generations. Tomorrow at the ceremony for Frimon there will be an official apology. If this comes as a shock to you, or an insult, you may want to take an honest look at yourself.”

  He asked, as he had before, why they had come tonight; why two nights ago? Was it for justice or to see a show? Had they even known what the performance two nights ago had been about? He warned them not to expect any more public displays. He repeated what Leni had said to the council, that it was easy to stand aside and tell right from wrong, but who had been ready to step in when things got out of hand?