Earthborn (Homecoming) (15 page)

Luet? Akma? No one had said these names. They had spoken of Akmaro and Chebeya, but had they mentioned the children’s names? It wasn’t hard to guess that the wife of Ro-Akma would insist on naming her firstborn son Akma after his father, but how did she know they had named their daughter Luet?

I knew because the Keeper of Earth is still speaking
to me through the same dream, through my memories of the dream.

Even as the thought came into her mind, she knew she must not tell anyone. It would be claiming too much. It would sound to others as if she were simply trying to exploit her triumphant dream and go on telling people what to do. She would have to be careful to assert special knowledge of the Keeper only rarely.

But whether she could speak of it or not, the Keeper was still aware of her, still speaking to her, and that was such joyful news it could hardly be contained.

“So? What is it? Don’t just wiggle like you have to void yourself.”

Edhadeya screeched at the first sound of Uss-Uss’s voice. She hadn’t realized the digger slave was even in the room.

“I was here in plain sight when you came in, foolish girl,” said Uss-Uss. “If you hadn’t been so angry at your father, you would have seen me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Edhadeya.

“Oh, didn’t you? Muttering under your breath about how you’re not as stupid as Dudagu Dermo and you don’t deserve to be shut out of everything and Mon isn’t crazy because he wants to be an angel because why shouldn’t worthless people like the king’s daughter and the king’s second son wish they could be
anything
but what they are—”

“Oh be quiet!” said Edhadeya with mock petulance. “Making fun of me like that.”

“I’ve told you muttering isn’t a good habit. Keen ears can hear.”

“Yes, well, I
didn’t
say anything about kings’ daughters or kings’ second sons—”

“You
are
losing your mind, girl. And I notice while you’re talking about what you and Mon
wish
you were, you didn’t come up with no old diggers, did you!”

“Even if I wanted to be a digger and live with my nose in the dirt,” said Edhadeya nastily, “I
certainly
wouldn’t want to be old.”

“May the Mother forgive you,” said Uss-Uss quickly, “and let you live to be old despite your careless words.”

Edhadeya smiled at Uss-Uss’s concern for her. “The Keeper isn’t going to strike me dead for saying things like that.”

“So far, you mean,” said Uss-Uss.

“Does the Keeper ever speak to you, Uss-Uss?”

“In the thrumming of the roots of trees under the earth, she speaks to me,” said Uss-Uss.

“What does she say?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t speak the language of trees,” said Uss-Uss. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Something about how stupid young girls are, that’s all I get from her.”

“How odd, that the Keeper would tell the truth to me, and lie to you.”

Uss-Uss cackled with delight at the repartee—and then stopped abruptly. Edhadeya turned and saw her father in the doorway.

“Father,” she said. “Come in.”

“Did I hear a servant calling her mistress stupid?” asked Father.

“We were joking with each other,” said Edhadeya.

“It doesn’t lead to anything good, to be too familiar with servants, whether they’re diggers or not.”

“It leads to my feeling as though I had one intelligent friend in the world,” said Edhadeya. “Or perhaps that isn’t good, in the eyes of the king.”

“Don’t be snippy, Edhadeya. I didn’t make the rules, I inherited them.”

“And you’ve done nothing to change them.”

“I sent an army because of your dream.”

“Sixteen men. And you sent them because Mon said it was a true dream.”

“Oh, am I condemned because the Keeper gave you a witness to support your claim?”

“Father, I’ll never condemn you. But Akmaro and his family have to be brought here. Don’t you understand? The things that Akmaro teaches—that a man
and woman are equal partners, that a family should rejoice at the birth of a daughter as much as at the birth of a son—”

“How do you know what he teaches?” asked Father.

“I saw them, didn’t I?” she said defiantly. “And I’ll bet the daughter’s name is Luet, and the son’s name is the same as the father’s. Except the honorific, of course.”

Motiak frowned at her, but she knew from his anger that she was right, those
were
the names. “Are you using the gift of the Keeper to show off?” said Father sternly. “To try to force me to do your bidding?”

“Father, why do you have to say it that way? Why can’t you say, Oh, Edhadeya, how wonderful that the Keeper tells you so much! How wonderful that the Keeper is alive in you!”

“Wonderful,” he said. “And difficult. Khideo is furious at having been humiliated by my letting a girl speak so boldly before him.”

“Well, the poor man. Let him go back to the Elemaki then!”

“He’s a genuine hero, Edhadeya, a man of great honor and not the sort of man that I want to have as my enemy!”

“He’s also a bigot of the first stripe, and you know it! You’re going to have to settle these people off by themselves somewhere, or there’ll be trouble.”

“I know that. They know it, too. There’s land along the valley of the Jatvarek, after it has fallen down from the gornaya but before it enters the flatlands. No angels live there, because the jaguars and the lesser cats are too prevalent there in the rainy season. So it will suit them.”

“Wherever humans go, angels can safely live,” said Edhadeya. She was taunting him with his own law, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“A good king can tolerate reasonable variation among his people. It costs the sky people nothing to avoid settling among the Zenifi, as long as the Zenifi
give them free and safe passage, and respect their right to trade. In a few generations . . .”

“I know,” she said. “I know it’s a wise choice.”

“But you’re in the mood to argue with me about everything.”

“Because I think that none of this has anything to do with the people I saw in my dream. What about
them
, Father?”

“I can’t send another party to search for Akmaro,” said Motiak.

“
Won’t
you mean.”

“Won’t, then. But for a good reason.”

“Because a woman is asking you to.”

“You’re hardly a woman yet,” said Motiak. “Right now the entire enterprise we just concluded is regarded as a great success. But if I send out another army, it will look as though the first attempt was a failure.”

“It
was
a failure.”

“No it wasn’t,” said Motiak. “Do you think you’re the only one who hears the voice of the Keeper?”

Edhadeya gasped and blushed. “Oh, Father! Has the Keeper sent you a dream?”

“I have the Index of the Oversoul, Dedaya. I was consulting it for another reason, but as I held it in my hands, I heard a voice clearly speak to me. Let me bring Akmaro home, said the voice.”

“Oh, Father! The Index is still alive, after all these years?”

“I don’t think it’s any more alive than a stone,” said Motiak. “But the Keeper is alive.”

“The Oversoul, you mean,” said Edhadeya. “It’s the Index of the Oversoul.”

“I know that the ancient records make a great deal of distinction between them, but I’ve never understood it myself,” said Motiak.

“So the Keeper will bring Chebeya and her family home to Darakemba?”

Motiak narrowed his eyes, pretending to glare at her. “Do you think I don’t notice when you do that?”

“Do what?” asked Edhadeya, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Not Akmaro and his people—no, you say ‘Chebeya and her family.’ ”

Edhadeya shrugged.

“The way you women persist in calling the Keeper ‘she’ all the time. You know that the priests are always after me to forbid women to do that, at least in front of men. I always say to them, when the ancient records no longer show us Luet, Rasa, Chveya, and Hushidh speaking of the Oversoul and the Keeper as ‘she’ and ‘her,’ then in that same moment I’ll forbid the women to do as the ancients did. That shuts them up—though I’ll bet more than a few of them have wondered how serious I am, and whether they could somehow alter the ancient records without my noticing.”

“They wouldn’t dare!”

“That’s right, they wouldn’t,” said Motiak.

“You could also ask those priests to show you the anatomical chart of the Keeper that shows him to have a—”

“Mind your language,” said Motiak. “I’m your father, and I’m the king. There should be a certain dignity in both offices. And I’m not about to convince the priests that I’ve turned against the old religion now, am I?”

“A bunch of old—”

“There are things that I may not hear, as head of the worship of men.”

“Worship of men is right,” muttered Edhadeya.

“What was that?’ asked Motiak.

“Nothing.”

“Worship of men, you said? What did that—oh, I see. Well, think how you like. Just remember that I won’t always be king, and you can’t be sure that my successor will be as tolerant of your subversive little attacks on the men’s religion. I’m content to let women worship as they please, and so was my father and his father before him. But there’s always agitation to
change things, to shut down the heresies of women. Every wife who strikes her husband or scolds him publicly is taken as one more proof that letting the women have their own religion makes them disrespectful and destructive.”

“What difference does it make, whether we keep our silence because the priests force us or because we’re afraid that they
might
force us?”

“If you can’t see the difference, you’re not as bright as I thought.”

“Do you really think I’m intelligent, Father?”

“What, are you really fishing for more praise than I already give you?”

“I just want to believe you.”

“I’ve heard enough from you, when you start doubting my word.” He got up and started for the door.

“I’m not doubting your honesty, Father!” she cried out. “I know you
think
that you think I’m intelligent. But I think that in the back of your mind, you always have another little phrase: ‘for a woman.’ I’m intelligent—for a woman. I’m wise—for a woman.”

“I can promise you,” said Motiak, “that the phrase ‘for a woman’ never comes to my mind in reference to you. But the phrase ‘for a child’ is there, I can assure you—and often.”

She felt as if he had slapped her.

“I meant you to,” said Father.

Only when he answered did she realize she had muttered the words. Feel slapped.

“I respect your intelligence enough,” said Father, “that I think a verbal slap teaches you better than a physical one. Now trust in the Keeper to bring this Akmaro—and
Chebeya
—to Darakemba. And in the meantime, don’t expect me to be able to stand custom on its head. A king can’t lead his people faster and farther than they’re willing to follow.”

“What if the people insist on doing wrong?” asked Edhadeya.

“What, am I in my schoolroom, being tossed hypothetical questions by my tutors?”

“Is
that
how the heir to the king gets taught?” she asked defiantly. “Where are the tutors asking
me
hypothetical questions about kingship?”

“I’ll answer your original question, not these impossible ones. If the people insist on doing wrong, and the king can’t persuade them to do right, then the king steps down from the throne. If his son has honor, he refuses to take the throne after him, and so do all his sons. Let the people do evil if they choose, but with a new king of their own choosing.”

In awe, Edhadeya whispered, “Could you do that, Father? Could you give up the throne?”

“I’ll never have to,” he said. “My people are basically good, and they’re learning. If I push too hard, I gain nothing and the resistance gets stronger. During the long slow years of transformation I need the trust and patience of those who want me to make changes in their favor.” He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head, where the hair was parted. “If I had no sons, but you were still my daughter, then I would hurry the changes so that you could have the throne in my place. But I have sons, good ones, as you well know. And so I will let the change come gradually, generation after generation, as my father and grandfather did before me. Now I have work to do, and I’ll spend no more time on you. There are whole nations under my rule who get less of my attention than you do.”

Giving him her best demure smile, she said, in a simpering courtly ladylike voice, “Oh, Father, you’re so incredibly
kind
to me.”

“One of my ancestors walled up a recalcitrant daughter in a cave with only bread and water to eat until she became properly obedient,” said Father.

“As I recall, she dug her way out of the cave with her fingernails and ran off and married the Elemaki king.”

“You read too much,” said Father.

She stuck out her tongue at him, but he didn’t see, because he was gone.

Behind her, Uss-Uss spoke up again. “Aren’t you the brave little soldier?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” said Edhadeya.

“I’m not,” said Uss-Uss. “You know, one of the stories that circulates among us devil slaves—”

“No one calls you devils anymore.”

“Don’t interrupt your elders,” said Uss-Uss. “We all tell each other the story of the digger who was cleaning a chamber when two traitors spoke together, plotting the death of the king. The slave went straight to the king and told him, whereupon the king had the digger killed, for daring to hear what humans said in front of him.”

“What, do you think I’m going to—”

“I’m just telling you that if you think you’re suffering because you’re a human woman, remember that your father didn’t even bother to send me out of the room in order to talk to you. Why
is
that?”

“Because he trusts you.”

“He doesn’t know me. He only knows that
I
know what the penalty is for daring to repeat what I hear. Don’t tell me how oppressed the women of Darakemba are when most of us diggers are slaves that can be killed for the slightest infraction—even for an act of great loyalty.”

“I’ve never heard that story,” said Edhadeya.