Courtship Rite

50

A MULTI-JAWED VISE was closing on Joesai. During his reluctant idleness, the Mnankrei had slowly been building trenches and check points in strategic places. The whole camp might find itself isolated any day now. He sat fuming in the farmhouse attic, confirming the rayvoice message from Bendaein hosa-Kaiel. There was to be a delay in the forward deployment of the main strength of the Gathering. Deliberately? Joesai strolled to the window, examining his self-made trap with an expert eye. A hill. Good stone fences. An excellent defensive position but little else. By the hairs of God’s Nose what was Bendaein doing?

Via rayvoice Teenae had given Joesai an analysis of Bendaein’s main kolgame strategy. He relied heavily on the sacrifice. I’ll kill him! And now Noe’s message that the Mnankrei were ready with a new biological terror to which he had to respond… except that he was under sacred contract to Hoemei to sit and do nothing. Just what I need. He clomped down the attic ladder so furiously that one boot shot through a rung, dropping him with a bone-shaking jolt.

The contract with Hoemei exasperated him and though he might honor it first with his wits and finally with his life he was also willing to break that contract — and allow negative assessments to enter Hoemei’s Archive files — if the success of the Gathering was at stake. His personal goal was to make his family transcendent above all others, but the clan goal was to take Soebo and place it under Kaiel rule, the means of victory to be governed only by the Over Strategy of Tae ran-Kaiel. To honor at the same time, Hoemei maran-Kaiel, his brother, and Tae ran-Kaiel, his father, and yet to face a situation which neither had predicted, that was Joesai’s dilemma.

His training taught him first to review his Over Strategy when confronted with the unpredictable lest he find himself detoured by an undergoal. All power to the Kaiel through bargaining! That was the Over Strategy. Bargain with whom?

Grumbling, he left the farmhouse to examine his trap on foot. While he paced impatiently in meditation along the ramparts his men had raised upon the farmer’s field, wisdom sang to him a thousand cautionary verses. A strong man must move lightly. Each verse he listened to — unconvinced. Another, sweeter, melody rose from his inner soul in counterpoint to the warning dirge. Throw everything into a devastating thrust straight at Soebo and damn the consequences!

Drums marched over the counterpoint. “Power is not safely abused,” boomed Tae in Joesai’s memory, his scarred face grinning at his young children, “any more than a sharp knife is safely abused, or fire abused, or a sailplane abused. Misapplied power turns on you and consumes you and leaves your ashes floating in the wind. Abuse it and it may kill you instantly or it may play with you first, torturing you slowly while it decides what death to inflict upon your children’s children.”

Returning, the melody of temptation sneaked through the feet of Tae’s mighty drumming. As a child listening to Tae he had wondered just how far you could push your power before it turned on you — how fast the knife? how big the fire? how steep the climb?

The Tae from Joesai’s memory had gifts for his children and he distributed them, still speaking resonantly. “You are Kaiel. Our job is power. Expect to be hurt. Power does not forgive those who are ignorant of its limits, yet who has kalothi enough to know well that maze of limits? But, as Kaiel, also expect to do great things with the sharp knife you have cared to learn to control.”

Each of Tae’s gifts had been a tool. Joesai was given an axe which his father whimsically named “Four Toes” as he put it into Joesai’s hands. In that one rare moment of contact, Joesai had asked him who set the limits. “The ones who die,” smiled Tae.

In another of Joesai’s ears, an ironic song replied to temptation, reciting vast French victories on the way to Moscow. The power wielded by Napoleon was absolute, so absolute that it forever deprived France of Glory. Until the very edge of the last impossible page of The Forge of War, Frenchmen were to be seen in hell pursuing a buxom Glory who flirted with taller lovers.

A battle song told of Greek destroying Trojan — but who among the blazing stars could still pronounce the names of those jealous warriors whose power had brought them only death?

Joesai’s eyes raked the horizon, a band of haze that blended into the blue sky. He was restless to move on Soebo and yet restrained. Victory was essential but could one bargain with the rubble his forces would create? Power was not to be had through transient victory.

Tae had endlessly reminded his clan that the Gathering of Ache achieved dominion over the Arant by terror, then created the Kaiel to oversee the terror but, that strong as terror gripped, it was a transient glue. Had not the Arant, decimated and scattered — cowed — nevertheless subdued the Kaiel through the backdoor of remorse, so that the Kaiel body now walked with a double soul?

Joesai knew that he could strike immediately while his group was still alive. A small band could take Soebo. Who else but he — and perhaps his crazy two-wife — understood the uses of the madness in The Forge of War? The Mnankrei would be able to defend themselves but they would not be able to comprehend the battle tactics in time. The victory would be stunning, complete, even awesome, its reward a cowering populace who anticipated every need of the conquering Kaiel.

The victors would be bathed, fed, carried, served, charmed. Every order would be obeyed. Yet the children would be hidden, and who would ever know the thoughts behind the smiling faces trying so anxiously to please? His Arant mind told him how cities responded to fear, and his Kaiel mind showed him the future: a Kaiel body thrown to the stones of a Soebian back alley, stomped, its throat slit, blood flowing between the stones to the gutter; a Kaiel body floating in a canal; a Kaiel body hastily butchered and roasted, its skin destroyed; his body; Teenae’s body; his grandson’s body. He shrugged, dismissing his main battle plan. There could be no victory unless the children came to greet you. No children cheered the German troops across the steppes of Russia. No children cheered the Russian butchers in Afghanistan. No children cheered the Amerikan troops at My Lai.

Whenever Joesai was perplexed he chose direct confrontation. He knew he did not know enough to make a decision that would honor the Over Strategy. Find out. He took ten youths he had observed all the way from Kaiei-hontokae. They melted through the Mnankrei watch stations unnoticed, first invisibly by night, then later in full view. Forethought had long ago provided safe houses in Soebo.

Cautiously Joesai contacted Hoemei’s spies. He did not know who they were, or where their rayvoice tower was located — such was the way Hoemei operated — but communication channels were open. Puzzlement met his requests. They knew nothing of sacred micro-life that could kill a host and then move to a new body. Joesai pondered his next move.

He set up an escape route over rooftops and into a canal barge, stationed men, and in broad orange daylight entered the Soebo hive of the Liethe. He waited in a room of tapestries, idle, amused. A startled girl found him. They were not used to receiving men. “I am Joesai maran-Kaiel, High Face of the Advance Court of the Gathering of Outrage.” He took a breath. The girl became even more surprised. She fled and was replaced by an old woman.

He was alert for signs of deceit, for the small flicker of wrinkled face that would tell him these women were holding him until they could inform the Mnankrei. “I am the se-Tufi Who Rings the Soul’s Bell. You must tell me the purpose of your visit.” This one had an iron calmness which could hold either fidelity or treachery.

“Bell of Supreme Excellence, from Kaiel-hontokae we once contacted you regarding those Kaiel captured at sea by the Mnankrei. We were informed that they languished in the Temple of Raging Seas.”

“Ah, and you are here to free them. A difficult task.”

Such was not his task. He was using the suggestion of an escape attempt as a probe of Liethe intentions. Joesai noted that he was being offered no help. “I realize you are allied with the Mnankrei and that makes your position delicate. Should the Mnankrei win this game and determine that the Liethe helped us in our failure, then it would go badly for your presence here.”

The witch smiled. “You are telling me with your Kaiel tongue that if the Kaiel win the game and we do not help you, then events will begin to go badly for us.”

With great formality, Joesai countered her thrust. “You are too familiar with the ways of the Mnankrei. Do not compare us. In all ways we are more generous. I make no threats. I cannot ask you to violate the ancient customs of Soebo established when the Kaiel were but worms. I promise only that no word of any help the Liethe give us shall ever be revealed by us.”

“The Death Oath?”

Joesai took his knife and opened a small wound in his finger. “The Death Oath is upon my whole clan.” That was as strong as he could make his contract. No Getan would lightly commit the gene pool of his entire clan. Treachery masked in honest words was never forgiven in the harsh courts of kalothi. He touched his blood to the crone’s tongue.

“Then I have a girl for you. The fee will be dismissed since this is a matter between priests. You will like her. The wench’s name is Comfort and she is mistress of High Wave Ogar tu’Ama who leads the opposition to the Central Watch of the Swift Wind.” The crone clapped her hands and a child Liethe appeared, listened and then slipped away.

Ho, already she has the grace, Joesai thought, remembering Hoemei’s Honey moving through the Palace as the hoiela moved upon the breeze.

“Please be corrected,” said the old one who could still ring the bell in a man’s soul. “We are not allied with the Mnankrei. We are allied with all priests who come from God’s Womb. We serve those who serve Geta.” She smiled and touched the small amulet he wore around his neck. “You have earned the heart of one Liethe. Who was she?”

“A dancer of the Prime Predictor.”

“She gave that to you when she knew your life was in danger.”

“My life has always been in the shadow of Death,” he grinned.

“You did not come here alone. Your friends will be hidden outside, watching.”

“If two lovely women leave the hive holding hands, one wearing a hat with hoiela wings, they will be assured of my safety and will await a second signal from me in twenty sun-heights.”

“It will be done. But you have a bizarre idea of the finery we possess!” Soul’s Bell escorted Joesai along a corridor with a hand that well knew how to hold a man’s arm. They met a tiny Liethe child, fortified by the beginnings of a large vocabulary, who was outraged at the presence of a male and hit at his knees with clenched fists. Other eyes watched them from hiding.

He was led to a room that was meant for no man. Its luxury was eccentric. Satin pillows, lit by an eerie mixture of sunlight and bioluminous glow, spilled on the floor overlooking the garden. A platinum globe-swing hung from the ceiling beside a torch rack and a bookcase. Dominating the corner was a great wardrobe made of pressed woven iron-reed, inlaid with a lustrous stone. The tapestries were of the finest oz-Numae weave depicting the faery world of the mythical forests of Scowlmoon.

Then Comfort emerged from across the garden, carrying a tray of o’ca porcelain. The snouts of the centerpiece steamed with the aroma of herb tea. There were sipping cups for warming the hands and spice cake. She set the tray on a small table and sank to her knees before him.

“How may I serve you,” she said to his feet.

Instead of asking her to rise he lowered himself onto a pillow beside her. The crone disappeared. Damn fool Liethe, he thought while he poured them both some tea, they never think a man can take care of himself. She let him serve her, gracefully accepting the unexpected. The face, the delicate body, was se-Tufi, like Honey, and that disturbed him. She wore a pink robe of knotty texture tied beneath her breasts, casually, and tiny red jewels in the corners of her eyes. She was dressed for seduction, not talk. Did that mean they were afraid of him?

“Good tea,” he said gruffly.

Humility broke a piece of cake and offered the morsel to his mouth.

“You look like someone I know,” he said.

Her blue eyes sparkled, black pupils and ruby jewels. “Did you love my sister?”

“For a moment.”

“The city is afraid,” she said, reverting to her serious manner.

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

“The Advance Court has done nothing.”

“That’s what makes you so frightening.”

“Then you, little one, must be the bravest of all the cowards of Soebo.” Some of Noe’s teasing ways had rubbed off on Joesai.

“Not yet as brave as you, for my actions still fall short of the foolhardy.”

“How might I reduce this fear?”

“Go away.”

He laughed the great laugh. “I would rather stroll down the Avenue of Temples and have children rush to bring me flowers and climb upon my shoulders.”

“With a face like yours?”

“I shall have to be content to terrorize the Temple of Raging Seas.”

She sighed. “You wish to free your men from the Temple. That is nearly impossible.”

“Ho! Notice that word nearly. It savors well upon the tongue. I will need maps of the Temple and of the surrounding buildings.”

“You will need more than that,” she replied scaldingly.

“The Mnankrei guard that evil place well, I hear.” He readied his surprise question. Noe had told him of the vile research into spreading death taking place in the Temple of Raging Seas and that the Liethe knew about it. How did one read an undecorated face? It was as innocent as a child’s. He finished his tea — and began. “What do you know of micro-life that visits the body’s house and kills the soul?”

“You speak of profane diseases such as pass among the insects?”

“Sacred disease,” he pressed.

“There have been rumors.”

He gave her no pause to orient. “Rumors?”

But she paused anyway. “I know nothing. I will go now and ask those who might.”

“Stay. I’m not sure I trust any other Liethe besides you.” He sensed he would get nothing from her.

“Then I won’t ask, but I know nothing. You suspect such abominations are being created in Soebo?”

“Yes.”

“You think great evil of the Mnankrei.”

“We are here to judge them fairly. First I plan to attack the Temple of Raging Seas.”

“It will have to be a job done in the dark as the burrowers eat wood. I need time to think and prepare. I will have a good plan for you by morning for your review. I am competent. Do you have two men, flexible in an emergency, quick to act?”

“Of course.”

“I cannot go with you. You may fail and die.”

“Do your schemes work?”

“Always. When executed by a woman.”

He liked the way she laughed at him. “Why should you be so helpful? Who is fed when the Kaiel are given charity?”

“I am the companion of the tu’Ama who has long fought the evil of the Swift Wind. They must be broken on the reefs. But Ama, just and steadfast as he is, lacks cunning as a leader. He may be broken if he does not receive help.”

“I’m a dangerous ally for this lover of yours.”

She delivered the o’ca cup to the small table with both fury and sadness. “You don’t even understand what I’m talking about! What can tu’Ama do? We know that! The Liethe are between crushing forces — the Kaiel and the Swift Wind. I am being thrown at you, at your feet, a gift, so that should you win your game there will be a Liethe with you to mellow your revenge. You surprised us by coming here. There has been much preparation to send me to your camp.”

“It is not likely that you would have been admitted.”

“But if I help you now?”

“No.”

“Then I will not risk my life to send you into the Temple for your friends!” she flared, rising.

“Ho! This is a bargain you are suggesting!” He laughed. “That is more like it! I shall have to reconsider. Let me sort this into boxes; in return for your aid you get to serve and flatter me.”

“And love you.”

“How can I refuse?”