Gama and Hest: An Ahsenthe Cycle companion novella (The Ahsenthe Cycle) (13 page)

She braced herself between the jambs, closed her eyes, and thought about the word Reln’s dwelling had used: abandon.

You’re
sad
,
aren’t
you
?

Mourning
.
My
friends
are
leaving
.
Structures
that
have
been
here
as
long
as
I
have
,
or
newer
friends
,
built
recently
.
When
will
I
see
them
again
?
Maybe
never
.

She wished the dwelling had a throat, so she could stroke it. She rubbed the jamb, hoping the touch would bring it some comfort, and sent,
Many
of
us
are
sad
today
.

Yes
, the dwelling sent.
I
fear
those
that
are
happy
now
will
find
themselves
sorrowful
in
a
distant
tomorrow
.

Gama let out a sigh.
And
that
by
then
it
will
be
too
late
.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Reev had risen higher than the tallest structure and now hovered in the air. The thin soil crackled as the grains began to separate. Dust spiraled in the air. The dwelling across from where she stood slowly sank through the loosened soil, disappearing hand-span by hand-span from her sight, the way a drowned beast sinks beneath the water. It landed with a soft crash. A structure-shaped hole gaped wide where it had stood, the dark soil of the meadow visible beneath it. The hole lasted only moments. Then the soil moved and covered the emptiness.

When all the structures that wanted to leave had sunk away, Reev slowly moved sideways and then settled itself back onto the ground.

Females and males rushed from Community Hall and the communiteria, and from dwellings that had chosen to stay. It was only then she realized the departing structures had been empty of soumyo when they’d dropped through the soil. Vonti, Kis, and others pulled sleds with their belongings tied on securely. She stepped out to the path’s edge and watched them go.

No one looked at her as they passed. Females called to their sisters, males to their brothers, and they joined in packs, heading toward the gates. Gama followed a female group a while, trailing like a hatchling, invisible, forgotten in its slowness.

Wall had thrown open the gate. Soumyo pushed at each other and elbowed their way to be first or next in line. The soft-gray of sorrow burned on Gama’s throat. When she couldn’t watch any longer, she turned and wandered through Reev, passing open space after open space where yesterday her corenta-kin had laughed and lived in harmony, and been part of a community.

She returned to Reln’s dwelling alone.

-=o=-

Reln
is
coming
, the dwelling sent.

Gama pulled to her feet. She hadn’t seen or spoken with Reln since he’d failed to speak in Community Hall. She hurried to the receiving room, anxious to talk with him and hear his plans for those remaining in Reev. Their number would be smaller now. Work allotments would have to be changed. Some among them would need to master new skills.

He’s
not
alone
, the dwelling sent.
Several
are
with
him
.
We’ve
talked
it
and
talked
it
.
It
must
be
done
,
Gama
.
I
am
sorry
.

She slowed her steps, her neck warming.
What
—
The dwelling opened its door before she could finish the question. Reln and five males who’d chosen to stay stood just beyond the threshold. Gama’s gaze shot to their throats, to gauge what sort of message might be coming. Reln’s spots were lit purple-gray — he was worried, concerned, but the others felt differently — their throats splotched gray-green in disgust and ocher with impatience. She put her hand over her own throat to hide the anxiety colors she knew glowed there.

“I’m sorry, Gama,” Reln said. “This is no longer a place for you.”

Confused, she dropped her hands to her sides and stared at him. She’d thought they’d grown close in harmony lately. She’d thought this dwelling would shelter her. Hadn’t Reln and it each said as much? Reln saw the colors on her throat and knew she was anxious and confused, but offered no words to comfort her. Gama barely kept her voice from shaking. “Home is gone, left with Hest. If you don’t want me here, maybe Community Hall will take me in.”

“No,” Reln said, his voice firm. “Not Community Hall. Not anywhere in Reev.”

A chill raced up her breastbone. “What are you saying?”

“Reev will no longer shelter you or any female.” Reln’s voice softened. “It was a hard decision, Gama, but given all that’s happened, we few who remain as part of Reev feel it’s best that we be an all male corenta. Wall agrees, and Community Hall, the granaries — all of the remaining structures, in fact.”

Do
you
? she sent privately to Reln’s dwelling.
You’ve
been
kind
since
the
night
Hest
and
I
first
came
to
stay
.

I
,
too
,
am
sorry
,
Gama
.
It
was
not
an
easy
decision
.
The
lumani
returned
in
the
night
and
spoke
with
Reln
.
They
want
male
and
female
separated
.
If
all
the
females
are
gone
,
the
sky
-
creatures
have
promised
to
leave
Reev
alone
.
Best
for
us
all
if
you
go
.

She looked at the males standing with Reln. Each now showed the color of determination on his throat. There was no point in arguing, in trying to convince Reln that this separation was a scheme devised by the lumani for reasons of their own, like everything else the sky-creatures had done.

Reln took a half step toward her. She hoped he would reach out and stroke her throat, offer some comfort at least, but he didn’t.

“Reev has spoken with Kelroosh,” he said. “They have eight males who’ve chosen to stay, and about twenty or so females. Their males will come here. You and the other Reev females who’ve stayed may go to Kelroosh if you wish.”

The shaking started in her arms, spread through her chest, and sped down her legs. Moments passed and she couldn’t speak. She huffed, trying to get the air needed to force out speech, and then, the words flew from her mouth. “If I wish? Where else would I go, Reln? Out by myself beside some stream? Maybe you think I could walk far enough to find an unclaimed orchard to call my own? That by myself I could build a dwelling before some beast found me? There’s no ‘If I wish’ here. No choice at all.”

Her gaze flew from male face to male face — throat to throat. Reev was home. She’d emerged here, lived here all her years. She couldn’t leave.

“It’s for the best, Gama,” Reln said. “In time, you will see this is our way forward.”

I
doubt
that
, she thought-talked to Reln, and said aloud, “Can I at least gather my goods? Or would you send me to Kelroosh with only the hipwrap I’m wearing and nothing else?”

“Of course.” Reln rubbed his hand over his scalp. “A sled will be brought. Your sisters are packing as well. You can meet them at the gate.”

She looked at him a long moment, then turned and went to get her things.

-=o=-

She went to the small communiteria first and wrapped her cooking pots, personal bowls, tumblers, and spoons in a cloak she found hanging there — Prill’s. Gama supposed Prill didn’t want it anymore. Maybe Prill thought the lumani would hand out new ones. What was it Vonti had said? The lumani would provide for their every need.

The room she’d shared with Hest and Prill was nearly empty now. Hest had taken everything that was his, as had Prill. It took little time to gather her hipwraps, foot casings, and cloaks. The tiny, misshapen bowl Hest had made from clay they’d dug one day on a riverbank sat in its spot near the head of her cot. Gama stared at it a long moment, then wrapped it separately in its own hipwrap — layers to keep it safe.

When she returned to the receiving room only Reln was there, an empty sled next to him. They didn’t speak while she loaded her things, Reln watching but not offering to help. She knotted the rope that secured her goods to the sled tightly, stood, and looked at him, needing to say something — needing to hear him say something. Reln shook his head and pressed his lips in a tight line.

Gama nodded, picked up the sled’s rope, and headed for the door.

Iya was already at the gate when Gama arrived, and two older females she didn’t know well. There was no need to speak — their necks showed their despair. Why waste words when they could see everyone felt the same?

Wall swung open the gate and they passed through, heading for Kelroosh, anchored a short distance away.

In the space between the two corentas, Kelroosh’s males, pulling sleds of their own, headed toward Reev. When the males grew near, Gama looked away, to not witness the pale-blue of despair on their throats — flaming as brightly as she knew her own spots glowed.

She turned her head and peered over her shoulder one last time at Reev, her home, the place where she’d been happy. Where she had loved and been loved.
Hest
, she thought, and felt the loss like a hole blown through her — sure that anyone who looked could see it.

She tightened her grip around her sled’s rope pull. She didn’t want it — this despair and surrender. She eased close to Iya and put her free arm over her sister’s shoulders. Iya slid her free arm around Gama’s waist. They matched their pace and walked in harmony, their steps stronger together.

A few females stood outside Kelroosh, waiting to greet the new arrivals. Gama looked up at the high, thick wall, at the large wooden gate, weathered but strong, that had opened to receive them.

“This is a day of sorrow and joy,” Kinto, Kelroosh’s guide, said as Gama and her sisters passed into the corenta.

Gama slowed her step. She should say something, thank Kinto for taking them in. She tried, but nothing seemed right. Kinto reached out and stroked her throat.

The touch calmed and reassured Gama. She stood and looked around, Iya doing the same next to her. Kelroosh was bigger than Reev and many of its dwellings had left too, leaving large spaces of bare dirt between structures. So many spaces, so many of the kin gone.

“The sorrow,” Kinto said.

Gama nodded. Hest was her sorrow — smaller than Kinto’s loss, but no less painful.

“The joy,” Kinto said, “is you and your sisters, whom we have gained.”

Gama breathed out long and loud, taking in as much as she could see of Kelroosh from that spot: brightly painted structures she guessed were dwellings, a large commons, a round dun-colored structure that might be a grain house, and in the distance what was likely their community hall. She saw the possibilities now — new dwellings built, new sisters loved. These females, the few of Reev and Kelroosh who would not believe the lumani’s false promises, who would not trade their way of life for safety, they were her new kin. She’d make a new life with them.

They would go forward together.

Many thanks to Dan McNeil, Meg Xuemei, Randy Jackson, Richard Casey, and Sue Marschner, wonderful writers all, for their help in shaping this story. Special thanks to Christina Frey and Jay Howard, the best editors a writer could hope for.

Much love to Chris, Colin, and Larkin Razevich, who make every day a joy.

Cover art by Tony Honkawa, Tony Honkawa Design

About the Author

Alexes Razevich was born in New York and grew up in Orange County, California. She attended California State University San Francisco where she earned a degree in Creative Writing. After a successful career on the fringe of the electronics industry, including stints as Director of Marketing for a major trade show management company and as an editor for Electronic Engineering Times, she returned to her first love — fiction. She lives in Southern California with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found playing hockey or traveling somewhere she hasn’t been before.

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Also by Alexes Razevich

Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle, Book 1)

Ashes and Rain (The Ahsenthe Cycle, Book 2)

Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller