Courtship Rite

19

KATHEIN HAD NEVER MET Aesoe before. She did not know what he looked like, for whenever they had been within sight of each other — and once she had been as close as an arm’s reach — he had been gazing at her and she had dared not return the gaze. She could feel his fascination deep in her loins as a face can feel the sun that eyes must turn from. She did not know what to make of this summons to his country residence.

Two Ivieth from his personal livery came for her with a richly cushioned palanquin. A wet nurse met them at the carved doors to take the baby. Another woman led her to a hot tub where a male and female servant bathed her and attainted her with perfumes upon her ears and nipples before dressing her in soft robes resplendent enough for an audience with the Prime Predictor.

Kathein could not even look at him now as she made her entrance into his grandroom. It was with relief that she knelt in formal bow to touch her head upon the stone-cold floor of smooth granite. Music was playing — gentle strings, a reed. She had watched the musicians briefly with eyes that were avoiding his. The afterimage of these delicate women stayed with her.

They were of the Liethe, small beauties shrouded in fabric woven from the soft wings of the hoiela, blending unobtrusively into the tapestries of the room. Aesoe valued them for their rarity. Who knew where they bred? Perhaps on some forested island of the Drowned Hope Sea? Gossip had Liethe appearing from and disappearing into the islanded ocean.

They sold themselves for gold if the buyer was a priest, but they were not slaves. A Liethe would leave her master but another always came and took her place. Aesoe’s three had the same face and body. Rumor spoke of parthenogenesis. Rumor also spoke of varied physical types. Somebody far across the Itraiel Plain had once confided to a friend of Kathein that they garroted their sons. Veiled daughters came and vanished. It was said aloud that any man who was served by a Liethe became all-powerful. It was whispered that any man who kept one became a slave of the Liethe. Whatever their powers, they played enchanting music.

An iron-strong hand lifted Kathein’s chin. “I’ve wondered about the color of your eyes. I’ve only seen the length of the lashes.” She saw a man’s face wrinkled with laughter, his shirt opened to a foam of white hair. He was an old man but he had all the grace of a blacksmith in full swing. He was Prime Predictor because the prophesies he had registered in the Archives as a youth had been more accurate than the vision of any other Kaiel. That was how the Kaiel elected their leader. He would be Prime Predictor until he died or retired or was ousted by a man who had proved a clearer vision.

Aesoe awed Kathein. She, whose greatest skill was the making of predictions in the simple world of light and stone and bouncing atom, could not even approach his ability to see and control the future. Half of a prophet’s strength was his ability to monitor a prediction and make it come true. Aesoe was one of her gods. The God of the Sky was a comforting protector. Aesoe she feared.

He took her hand. “I’ve done you grievous harm,” he said, “but I have no regrets.”

“I am too close to my sadness to understand.”

“Sadness is a disease of youth.”

“You’re never sad?”

“Never.”

“I’m sad.”

“The maran-Kaiel family is expendable. You are not. That is the whole of it.”

“How can you say that about them! They’re wonderful people! I know. I’ve loved them!”

“Hoemei I would hate to lose. The sun may rise on the day he becomes Prime Predictor. I could manage to say pleasantries at Gaet’s funeral without gagging. And there is nothing I can do for Joesai. An impatient eater falls into the soup pot, goes the proverb. To lose Noe would cause a scandal in those circles where scandals are most quickly forgotten.”

“And my beloved Teenae?”

“I don’t know if I am fond of Teenae or not. I’ve never slept with her.”

“You’re callous!”

“I’m generous. I’m giving them Oelita. They can make use of that opportunity and be gloriously successful. Or they can fail. I see no alternate way of reaching the coast this generation. Yes, we have other mature families. But which of them is so impetuously foolhardy as the maran? You I dare not endanger. If our population was twice as large as it is, and twice as bright, I might ask you.”

“Then I can bargain.”

He smiled. “As long as it has to do with physics and not love.”

“There’s a machine I want built.”

He laughed. “A mere machine? I had intended to give you far more than that. How about leading your own clan?”

Was he jibing her? That was her greatest dream. As a child she had drawn her own clan cicatrice and even now wore it between her breasts. It was an impossible dream, but to hear Aesoe offer it made her heart pound, even if he was only cruelly jesting. “That is not yours to give,” she said with formal rebuff. Only a Gathering could create a new clan. As the Gathering of Ache had created the Kaiel.

“In the history of the clans, which clan was founded without a Gathering?”

“There is no such clan.”

“The Liethe.”

She searched her mind and found nothing, only tale and mystery and fear. “There must have been a Gathering.”

“No. One woman created the Liethe. And so it shall be again. You can have whomever you want, up to a hundred bodies — from the craft clans, from the creches, from the Kaiel. As long as they are good at physics. If I have to divorce them from their families, you shall have them! You are to create the traditions and the breeding rules. Your assignment is to duplicate your own peculiar mental bent — and perfect it if you can. I have predicted that the Kaiel shall win all of Geta if it is possible to true-breed your abilities. That is why I cannot risk your affair with the maran-Kaiel who perhaps are lovable but who are not worthy of you.”

He must be demented. Was this how senility suddenly attacked? She stared at him in amazement. “You cannot…”

“I can! I am a Gathering of One! I am doing it!”

Kathein dropped to her knees again — weakly — and touched her head to the floor. “The honor is too much.”

Quickly he knelt beside her and took her bowed head in strong hands that had held many women. “How pleasant to see you no longer sad! I think you are liking my gift. Perhaps we will have time to share our mutual interests on the pillows?” He was chuckling. His grin was so wide that he had difficulty kissing her.

She was totally confused. “Is that why you’ve brought me here and offered me my soul’s desire with a plan that must defy all of Geta, because you lust me?” There was sting in her voice.

He lifted her to her feet, undisturbed by the anger. “It is uncanny to be the Prime Predictor. I see Kaiel power born through your womb — the vision is clear — but who knows if that is a future I see because I’m a prophet or because my lust for you drives me to create it? Who knows? Not I.” He was amused.

Kathein fled from him. “Take me to my room,” she demanded of his servant. Her lone backward glance showed her one of the Liethe women moving to Aesoe’s side. Safely in the room, she barricaded the furnishings against the massive door and lay on the bed sobbing out her love for Joesai and tender Gaet and shy Hoemei and Teenae whose kiss was as soft as the hoiela wing and Noe who loved her. It was hopeless. She would never touch them again, never kiss their scars. The most powerful man on Geta had seen her body and desired it. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and when there were no more tears…

Thump.

A jerk of her head brought her facing the sound. The window had been taken from its casing. He was hunched there in the frame, grinning like a carnivorous ei-mantis ready to spring.

“You!”

“You don’t think a simple barricade would stop me?” he said, climbing down into the room.

“I’ll refuse you! I’ll dig my claws into you!”

“No you won’t.” He was laughing. “I wouldn’t be here if you were going to say no. It is a prediction I would put in the Archives.”

She pushed him away and turned her head while he kissed her cheeks and eyes and slipped about her neck some golden lace that held a foggy gem set by Liethe hands.

“You don’t love me,” she wailed.

“Of course I love you. You’re the finest woman I’ve desired all week.”