At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (14 page)

“He left us in anger. I have not forgotten the day. But you stayed.”

“I was eleven; Shan was twelve. At that time we thought it a great thing—to be friends to an Indras, to be asked beneath the roof of one of the Great Families, to mingle with the Indras. I had come many times; but this day I brought Shan with me, and Ian t’Ilev chanced to be your guest also that day. Ian made it clear enough that he thought our manners quaint. Shan left on the instant; you prevented me, and persuaded me to stay, for we were closer friends, and longer friends. And from that day Shan t’Tefur and I had in more than that sense gone our separate ways. I could not call him back. The next day when I met him I tried to convince him to go back to you and speak with you,—but he would not. He struck me in the face and cursed me from him, and said that Osanef was fit for nothing but to be servant to the Indras—he said it in cruder words—and that he would not. He has not ceased to despise me.”

“It was not well done,” said Kta. “I had bitter words with Ian over the matter, until he came to a better understanding of courtesy, and my father went to Ilev’s father. I assure you it was done. I did not tell you so; there never seemed a moment apt for it.”

“Kta,—if I had been Indras, would you have found a moment apt for it?”

Kta gave back a little, his face sobered and troubled. “Bel, if you were Indras, your father would have come to Elas in anger and I would have been dealt with by mine—most harshly. I did not think it mattered, since your customs are different. But times are changing. You will become marriage-kin to Elas. Can you doubt that you would have justice from us?”

“I do not question your friendship,” he said, and looked at Aimu. “Times change, when a Sufaki can marry an Indras, where once Sufaki were not admitted to an Indras
rhmei
where they could meet the daughters of a Family. But there are still limitations, friend Kta. We try to be businessmen and we are constantly outmaneuvered and outbid by the combines of wealthy Indras houses; information passes from hearth to hearth along lines of communication we do not share. When we go to sea, we sail under Indras captains, as I do for you, my friend,—because we have not the wealth to maintain warships as a rule,—seldom ever merchantmen. A man like Shan, that makes himself different, who wears the
jafikn,
who wears the Robes of Color, who keeps his accent—you ridicule him with secret smiles, for what was once unquestioned honor to a man of our people. There is so little left to us of what we were. Do you know, Kta, after all these years,—that I am not really Sufaki? Is that a surprise to you? You have ruined us so completely that you do not even know our real name. The people of this coast are Sufaki, the ancient name of this province when we ruled it, but the house of Osanef and the house of Tefur are Chteftik, from the old capital. And my name, despite the way I have corrupted it to please Indras tongues, is not Bel t’Osanef u Han. It is Hanu Balaket Osanef, and nine hundred years ago we rivaled the Insu dynasty for power in Chteftikan. A thousand years ago, when you were struggling colonists, we were kings, and no man would dare approach us on his feet. Now I change my name to show I am civilized, and bear with you when your cultured accent mispronounces it. Kta, Kta, I am not bitter with you. I tell you these things so that you will understand, because I know that Elas is one Indras house who might listen. You Indras are not trusted. There is talk of some secret accommodation you may have made with your kinsmen of Indresul,—talk that all your vowing war is empty, that you only do this like fisherman at a market, to increase the price in your bargain with Indresul.”

“Now hold up on that point,” Kta broke in, and for the first time anger flashed in his eyes. “Since you have felt moved to honesty with me,—which I respect,—hear me, and I will return it. If Indresul attacks, we will fight. It has always been a fault in Sufaki reasoning that you assume Indresul loves us like its lost children; quite the contrary. We are yearly cursed in Indresul, by the very families you think we share. We share Ancestors up to a thousand years ago, but beyond that point we are two hearths, and two opposed sets of Ancestors, and we are Nephanite. By the very hearth-loyalty you fear so much, Nephanite, and by the light of heaven I swear to you there is no such conspiracy among the Families. We took your land, yes, and there were cruel laws, yes, but that is in the past, Bel. Would you have us abandon our ways and become Sufaki? We would die first. But I do not think we impose our ways on you. We do not force you to adopt our dress or to honor our customs save when you are under our roof. You yourselves give most honor to those who seem Indras. You hate each other too much to unite for trade as our great houses do. Shan t’Tefur himself admits that when he pleads with you to make companies and rival us for trade. By all means. It would improve the lot of your poor, who are a charge on us.”

“And why, Kta? You assume that we can rise to your level. But have you ever thought that we might not want to be like you?”

“Do you have another answer? Some urge it, like Shan,—to destroy all that is Indras. Will that solve matters?”

“No. We will never know what we might have been; our nation is gone, merged with yours. But I doubt we would like your ways, even if things were upside down and we were ruling you.”

“Bel,” exclaimed Aimu, “you cannot think these things: you are upset. Your mind will change.”

“No, it has never been different. I have always known it is an Indras world, and that my sons and my sons’ sons will grow more and more Indras, until they will not understand the mind of the likes of me. I love you, Aimu, and I do not repent my choice, but perhaps now you do. I do not think your well-bred Indras friends would think you disgraced if you broke our engagement. Most would be rather relieved you had come to your senses, I think.”

Kta’s back stiffened. “Have a care, Bel. My sister has not deserved your spite. Anything you may care to say or do with me—that is one matter; but you go too far when you speak that way to her.”

“I beg pardon,” Bel murmured, and glanced at Aimu. “We were friends before we were betrothed, Aimu; I think you know how to understand me, and I fear you may come to regret me and our agreement. A Sufaki house will be a strange enough place for you; I would not see you hurt.”

“I hold by our agreement,” said Aimu. Her face was pale, her breathing quick. “Kta, take no offense with him.”

Kta lowered his eyes, made a sign of unwilling apology, then glanced up. “What do you want of me, Bel?”

“Your influence. Speak to your Indras friends; make them understand.”

“Understand what? That they must cease to be Indras and imitate Sufaki ways? This is not the way the world is ordered, Bel. And as for violence, if it comes, it will not come from the Indras—that is not our way and it never has been. Persuasion is something you must use on your people.”

“You have created a Shan Tefur,” said Bel, “and he finds many others like him. Now we who have been friends of the Indras do not know what to do.” Bel was trembling. He clasped his hands, elbows on his knees. “There is no more peace, Kta. But let no Indras answer violence with violence, or there will be blood flowing in the streets come the month of Nermotai and the holy days.—Your pardon, my friends.” He rose, shaking out his robes. “I know the way out of Elas. You do not have to lead me. Do what you will with what I have told you.”

“Bel,” said Aimu, “Elas will not put you off for the sake of Shan t’Tefur’s threats.”

“But Osanef has to fear those threats. Do not expect me to be seen here again in the near future. I do not cease to regard you as my friends. I have faith in your honor and your good judgment, Kta. Do not fail my hopes.”

“Let me go with him to the door,” said Aimu, though what she asked violated all custom and modesty, “Kta, please.”

“Go with him,” said Kta. “Bel, my brother, we will do what we can. Be careful for yourself.”

11

Nephane was well named the city of mists. They rolled in and lasted for days as the weather grew warmer, making the cobbled streets slick with moisture. Ships crept carefully into harbor, the lonely sound of their bells occasionally drifting up the height of Nephane through the still air. Voices distantly called out in the streets, muted.

Kurt looked back, anxious, wondering if the sudden hush of footsteps that had been with him ever since the door of Elas meant an end of pursuit.

A shadow appeared near him. He stumbled off the edge of the unseen curb and caught his balance, fronted by several others who appeared, cloaked and anonymous, out of the grayness. He backed up and halted, warned by a scrape of leather on stone: others were behind him. His belly tightened, muscles braced.

One moved closer. The whole circle narrowed. He ducked, darted between two of them and ran. Soft laughter pursued him, nothing more. He did not stop running.

The Afen gate materialized out of the fog. He pushed the heavy gate inward. He had composed himself by the time he reached the main door. The guards stayed inside on this inclement day, and only looked up from their game, letting him pass,—alert enough, but, Sufaki-wise, careless of formalities. He shrugged the
ctan
back to its conventional position under his right arm and mounted the stairs. Here the guards came smartly to attention: Djan’s alien sense of discipline: and they for once made to protest his entry.

He pushed past and opened the door, and one of them then hurried into the room and back into the private section of the apartments, presumably to announce his presence.

He had time enough to pace the floor, returning several times to the great window in the neighboring room. Fog-bound as the city was, he could scarcely make out anything but Haichema-tleke, Maiden Rock, the crag that rose over the harbor, against whose shoulder the Afen and the Great Families’ houses were built. Gray and ghostly in a world of pallid white, it seemed the cloud-city’s anchor to solid earth.

A door hissed upon the other room and he walked back. Djan was with him. She wore a silver-green suit, thin, body-clinging stuff. Her coppery hair was loose, silken and full of static. She had a morning look about her, satiated and full of sleep.

“It’s near noon,” he said.

“Ah,” she murmured, and looked beyond him to the window. “So we’re bound in again. Cursed fog. I hate it.—Like some breakfast?”

“No.”

Djan shrugged and from utensils in the carved wood cabinet prepared tea, instantly heated. She offered him a cup: he accepted, nemet-schooled. It gave one something to do with the hands.

“I suppose,” she said when they were seated, “that you didn’t come here in this weather and wake me out of a sound sleep to wish me good morning.”

“I almost didn’t make it here; which is the situation I came to talk to you about. The neighborhood of Elas isn’t safe even by day. There are Sufaki hanging about, who have no business there.”

“The quarantine ordinances were repealed, you know. I can’t forbid their being there.”

“Are they your men? I’d be relieved if I thought they were. That is,—if yours and Shan t’Tefur’s aren’t one and the same, and I trust that isn’t the case. For a long time it’s been at night; since the first of Nermotai, it’s been even by day.”

“Have they hurt anyone?”

“Not yet. People in the neighborhood stay off the streets. Children don’t go out. It’s an ugly atmosphere, I don’t know whether it’s aimed at me in particular or Elas in general, but it’s a matter of time before something happens.”

“You haven’t done anything to provoke this?”

“No. I assure you I haven’t. But this is the third day of it. I finally decided to chance it. Are you going to do anything?”

“I’Il have my people check it out, and if there’s cause I’ll have the people removed.”

“Well, don’t send Shan t’Tefur on the job.”

“I said I would see to it. Don’t ask favors and then turn sharp with me.”

“I beg your pardon. But that’s exactly what I’m afraid you’ll do,—trust things to him.”

“I am not blind, my friend. But you’re not the only one with complaints. Shan’s life has been threatened. I hear it from both sides.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t choose to give my sources. But you know the Indras houses and you know the hard-line conservatives. Make your own guess.”

“The Indras are not a violent people. If they said it, it was more in the sense of a sober promise than a threat, and that in consideration of the actions he’s been urging. You’ll have riots in the streets if Shan t’Tefur has his way.”

“I doubt it. See, I’m being perfectly honest with you: a bit of trust. Shan uses that apparent recklessness as a tactic; but he is an intelligent man, and his enemies would do well to reckon with that.”

“And is he responsible for the late hours you’ve been keeping?”

Her eyes flashed suddenly, amused. “This morning, you mean?”

“Either you’re naive or think he is. That is a dangerous man, Djan.”

The humor died out of her eyes. “Well, you’re one to talk about the dangers of involvement with the nemet.”

“You’re facing the danger of a foreign war and you need the goodwill of the Indras Families; but you keep company with a man who talks of killing Indras and burning the fleet.”

“Words. If the Indras are concerned, good. I didn’t create this situation: I walked into it as it is. I’m trying to hold this city together. There will be no war if it stays together. And it will stay together if the Indras come to their senses and give the Sufaki justice.”

“They might, if Shan t’Tefur were out of it. Send him on a long voyage somewhere. If he stays in Nephane and kills someone, which is likely, sooner or later, then you’re going to have to apply the law to him without mercy. And that will put you in a difficult position, won’t it?”

“Kurt.” She put down the cup. “Do you want fighting in this city? Then let’s just start dealing like that with both sides, one ultimatum to Shan to get out, one to Nym, to be fair—and there won’t be a stone standing in Nephane when the smoke clears.”