Gama and Hest: An Ahsenthe Cycle companion novella (The Ahsenthe Cycle) (10 page)

Nine

“Reln.” Prill stood in the archway between the receiving room and the passageway to the sleeping quarters, her hands clenched together over her stomach. “Reln,” she said again, louder this time.

He looked up from the low table where he sat mixing powders. Small clay pots covered the wooden surface, each marked with what was inside. Gama saw his hand stop mid-reach, his eyes focus on Prill.

“I’m leaving, Reln,” Prill said.

Reln pulled his hand back to his lap. “Where are you going?”

Prill licked her lips. “With Mahn and Du. To stay in their dwelling.”

One spot on Reln’s throat flared confusion colors. Prill saw it, and shifted her gaze to Gama and then back to him.

“You’re my apprentice,” Reln said peaceably. “It will be difficult for us to work together if you stay even a few nights in another dwelling.” He gestured to an empty pillow beside him at the table. “Sit now. I’ll teach you to mix a poultice to draw out the poison of lenwa bites.”

Prill licked her lips again. “I don’t want to be your apprentice. Du and Mahn have invited me to learn their weaving ways. I’d rather do that.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “I’d rather live with sisters.”

Reln set his powders aside. “Reev has many weavers, but only one apprentice healer. You can best serve your kin by staying here and continuing to learn.”

“No.” Her voice shook, but the only color on her neck was the red-pink of certainty. “I thank you for all you’ve taught me. That knowledge stays with me and I will use it for my sisters.”

She turned and strode down the hall — Reln narrow-eyed, watching the empty space where she’d been, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrow ridges pulled together. Gama opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it.

Moments later Prill returned, pulling a sled with her personal goods already secured on it. Her eyes focused on the door, not on them. She went straight to it, her steps determined, and stood waiting. The air in the room felt hot, heavy, but the silent thought-grains Prill sent — asking the dwelling to open its door, Gama supposed — moved in their usual way.

The door didn’t open.

Prill glared over her shoulder at Reln. They locked gazes, and more silent thought-grains moved through the room, back and forth between Reln and Prill now. Back and forth, and faster and faster. Prill’s emotions spots erupted in the dark hues of annoyance and then anger. The thought grains were so thick in the air, Gama was amazed they didn’t collide.

Finally Reln threw up his hands. The door flew open and the colors on Prill’s throat changed instantly to the red-pink of confidence. She pulled her spine straight and walked out.

Reln stared after her. The door closed. He put his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his palms.

-=o=-

Hest
. Gama stared into the dimly lit sleeping quarters that days ago held three, but tonight held only her. She watched her thought-grains move through the air, heading toward Home, and waited for a reply.

Hest
.
Are
you
awake
?
Can
you
hear
me
?

Nothing.

I
miss
you
,
Hest
.

-=o=-

Strange noises woke her in the morning. Voices — that was normal enough, though not usually this many, this thunderous — soumyo calling to each other like they were out on the plains or shouting across a river. And a sound she’d never heard before, a sort of lumbering creak, like something huge being dragged through Reev.

Gama sat up and listened harder. Reln had said there was a dim sound before Carding House disappeared. This wasn’t muted — it was obvious. She threw her feet over the side of the cot and rushed from the room. How many disappearing structures would it take to make this much noise?

“Reln,” she called as she hurried down the hallway toward the receiving room. “Reln!”

Gone
out
, the dwelling sent, and opened the door.
Go
see
for
yourself
.

The front door swung wide. Gama felt certain that if the dwelling could have pushed her through that opened door, it would have.

She stepped out into chaos.

All the soumyo of Reev, it seemed, were outside, some carrying bags stuffed full, some hauling sleds with their personal property piled on top — clothing, cots and bedding, tables, chests, dishes, floor pillows. A few soumyo moved in packs of three or four, each pack made up of only one gender. As Gama watched, more females or males banded together, each group pointedly not looking at another. The scraping sound grew louder — a sound that set her teeth on edge — but she couldn’t see what caused it.

What’s
going
on
? she sent to Community Hall, who always seemed to know everything.

A
separation
and
a
joining
, Hall sent.
You
soumyo
have
gone
mad
.

Some
structures
,
too
, she sent back, annoyed that Hall seemed to put the chaos only on soumyo shoulders.
Home
refused
to
let
Hest
and
me
in
,
then
decided
only
Hest
could
be
within
its
walls
.
Reln’s
dwelling
couldn’t
get
me
out
its
doors
fast
enough
this
morning
.

A hot ball grew in her chest as she sent to Hall, remembering how Home had thrown her and Hest out, feeling the rejection again, doubled now that it had taken Hest back, but not her. How Hest had leapt at the offer — leaving her behind. Alone.

Structures
,
too
, Hall agreed.
But
more
soumyo
.

The scraping and creaking grew louder, its source coming closer. Heads turned in the direction of the noise, most soumyo stopped now, staring, but some looking over their shoulders as they dragged their sleds. The meandering layout of Reev meant they could hear but not see much beyond the structures and commons nearest them.

Then she saw.

They all saw.

Du led a procession of dwellings. A small procession in number — only three — but huge in implication. The structure’s broad faces came into view first, sunlight glinting off windows, doors shut, the residences scraping along the ground The dwellings moved slowly through the corenta more gracefully than Gama would have thought they could, They knew, all the soumyo, that structures could move, but if any had ever seen it happen, there were no stories about it. It must have been untold generations since the last structure moved. Why would they? This sort of disharmony was unheard of before now.

Something else stirred in her mind, a memory of a story she’d heard long ago — that just as a full corenta can fly, so can each structure in it, should it choose. These structures had made a different choice, to scrape along slowly, noisily, making a show of it. Whose idea was that — the structures’ or Du’s?

Du marched ahead, the blue-purple of triumph glowing on her throat. Gama had a sudden urge to rush out and shove her away, to hold up her hands and force the structures to halt and return to their rightful places through force of will alone. Her neck warmed with equal parts anger and shame colors. Du no longer felt like kin — no true sister would willingly upset their harmony this way — but Du was. She always would be. If the males and females separated, Gama would have Du in the rest of her life, but not Hest, even though they still lived in the same corenta.

Mahn and Prill followed a step or two behind Du, their heads high, blue-purple bright on their throats. Gama tried to catch Prill’s eye. Prill looked away.

In places, there wasn’t room enough for the dwellings to pass through. Other structures were forced to move back — straining and creaking at the unfamiliar motion — their efforts adding to the growing cacophony. Dust filled the air. A large blue-and-yellow bird suddenly swooped down, flying low over the rooftops, squawking the name they called them, “Gwant. Gwant.” The birds usually traveled in pairs, and for half a heartbeat Gama wondered where its mate was.

She’d been focused on the moving structures and hadn’t noticed the other females walking beside their dwellings — one with the dwelling that followed Du’s, and two more beside the third dwelling — Crina and Tri, who had always lived in it. Were more females walking on the other side, where she couldn’t see? There could be none, or the same number, or twice as many. Three times as many. Her stomach clenched.

A group of males stood a small distance from her. They jeered as the dwellings approached, but not loudly, not to make show to any but each other. Gama strained to see if Hest stood with them, and was glad he didn’t.

Reln burst through the crowd, took Du by the arm and talked furiously at her, though Gama couldn’t hear what he said. The procession skidded to a halt while they spoke, the dwellings behind Du’s coming up tight behind it and shifting a little from side to side. The great wind sound of structures talking rose from every direction — an argument, Gama assumed from the depth of blowing. She could guess at what was being said — some saying stay put, others wanting to move. She wondered how many were in harmony with the separation. The structures weren’t sharing their thoughts with the soumyo.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the small male band growing restless — craning their necks, glaring at Reln and Du and the soumyo gathered beyond their tight knot. Every throat was lit — anger, fear, and confusion, but some, oddly, showed amusement. She wanted to stomp on those amused feet, change those amusement colors on their throats to the color of despair. Were they without sight? Without compassion? Bit by bit, their lives were being changed. Destroyed. She felt it pressing down, a deep weight in her chest.

This
disruption
is
the
males’
fault
— the thought came as clear as a voice in her mind. From Reln on out, males didn’t understand the importance of staying connected. Of being one. Reln shouldn’t have let Prill leave his dwelling. He should have fought for her to stay.

A dark anger coiled in her belly. Males weren’t loyal to their sisters. Look how Hest had jumped to go back to Home the moment he was asked. He’d given no thought to her, how she would feel — cast off like a hatchling’s down, of no importance in this new life.

Du and Mahn were right. Gama didn’t believe it was females and males living together that had brought on the vanishings — didn’t believe that separation would end the chaos, the way so many did — but that hardly mattered. Let the males band together for themselves. Let them find their own food, weave their own cloth, and sing their songs with no female voice to add richness.

Her face warmed and her throat burned. Why was she thinking these things, feeling these things? She wanted to shut off the voice in her mind, but the words rolled on. The males had ruined their way of living. They should be shunned, turned out of Reev. Or better — leave Reev to them. A new, clean place for the females would be best.

She looked around at her corenta-kin. Throats that had shown a variety of emotions now all blazed brown-black in anger, the same color she felt on her neck. She couldn’t say how she knew, but she was sure the same thoughts that sounded in her mind were being heard in theirs — females blaming males. The males blaming the females.

Reln gave Du a shove, pushing her away from him. “Open the main gate,” he yelled. “These sisters are shunned. They will leave Reev forever.” Gama had never seen Reln angry, not like this. She’d never seen him push someone.

Whatever Du felt, it didn’t show. How could she feel so little that her neck stayed colorless? She must be feeling deep emotion — anger at Reln, or frustration, something. Du drew her mouth into a tight line, and resumed leading the procession. Mahn stepped up boldly beside her sister. Slowly a color began to glow on both their throats — the red-pink of certainty, the same color Prill had shown when she announced she was leaving. Neither Du nor Mahn had doubts or second thoughts. They believed completely in the rightness of their actions. Whatever was in their minds, whatever goals they sought, felt as true to them as their own names.

Gama looked in the direction of the gate. She couldn’t see it from there, but knew it had followed Reln’s order and opened. Wall, at least, still listened to Reln.

She didn’t know where Du and the other females had thought to go at first, but she didn’t think it was out of Reev. More likely to an open space where the three dwellings could sit down close together. Gama felt sure that leaving Reev wasn’t what Du had had in mind, but Reln had made his judgment clear. Du was free to do as she wished — outside.