Authors: Kay Kenyon
The Braided World (50 page)
“How many humans are folded into the Olagong?”
“We don't know.” He didn't want to say,
Millions.
But the king already knew.
Vidori said simply, “You will not outnumber us. Then it would be your world, not ours.”
So they were still negotiating. And in this, Anton had no authority. What would the ships from Earth do, if they came? Would they take the legacy back to Earth? Or stay?
Well, they must not stay. This was the Dassa's world. If the hoda reproduced and became more numerous, of course, the result would be the same. But the bearing of children seemed to Vidori a small and gradual thing. He wasn't alarmed by the prospect of hoda children being fathered by Anton's crew. There were only a few human men, after all. But the condition was clear:
You will not outnumber us.
Thinking of his crew of eighteen people, Anton didn't think it would go against Vidori's wishes.
“It is a fine line to walk, rahi,” Anton said. “But we'll have to walk it.”
That seemed enough for now.
Vidori reached into a pocket, bringing out something and pressing it into Anton's hand.
It was a small piece of golden cloth. In the flickering torchlight, it caught glimmers in its folds.
Vidori said, “I retrieved this.”
Anton clutched the bit of cloth, and was surprised at what he felt. Not sadness. But a bittersweet joy. To have a piece of that fabric she loved so well. “Thank you, my friend,” Anton whispered.
Then Vidori said, although he was looking at the river, and it might have been just a stray thought, “You could stay at my pavilion and be my chancellor, Anton.”
It was so like the man to use every advantage. But it would be very like their new friendship for Anton to say no, and not hesitate.
“I don't think you need another chancellor, rahi.” Shim was entirely up to the task; he'd always thought so. Anton added: “If ships come from Earth—
if
they come—I'll be at your side to help you, Vidori-rah. I promise you that. But you don't really need me.”
“Do Gilar's people need you?”
Anton paused. “I think they do.” Then, mindful of his crew, of Zhen, and Bailey, and Sergeant Webb, and Leo Petty he said, “But we certainly need
them.”
“So the hoda will have their own pavilion,” Vidori said softly, as though trying out the sound of it. “It is not our tradition.”
Anton smiled. “Perhaps it should have been.”
That brought a look from Vidori, but he settled the matter by saying, “Well, there were always four rivers.”
Bailey was packed and ready to go when Anton came for her at the palace. Everything that she owned lay in a small pack at her feet, as she waited at the steps coming up from the river.
With Anton were three canoes of the king's guards, and three crew members from the
Restoration.
The shuttle had gone back to the ship for safekeeping, even though the fires were gutted after the night's heavy rain, and Nirimol had fled to the Voi, too weak to confront the king and his new allies.
Anton handed Bailey down into the canoe. Behind her, Shim bustled with packages to send along, and urged them on Bailey, who took them, hoping they were gowns.
Shim waved brightly as the convoy set out in the morning light, diffused by a thin haze. Acrid smoke smells gave way to the char from Lolo's fields and compounds. Still, the day promised to be fair.
Bailey had spent the three days since the battle on the Sodesh writing up a brief report to accompany Anton's radio message home. She hoped it set the right tone, but in
any case, the report was more to bolster Anton's credibility and inform her fans that she had taken up singing again.
She had also taken time to request that the king give Samwan engineering help on a new generator. Vidori had expressed his opinion that Samwan didn't deserve such help. Bailey had replied that she'd take it as a personal favor if he changed his mind. Shim cast an acid glance at Bailey murmuring that favors should not be directly sought, but must go through a chancellor. And Bailey had simply turned a dazzling smile on the woman.
Vidori had finally pronounced, “Samwan shall have a generator.” And then, extracting his payment: “I hope I may present your singing in my palace sometime soon, Bailey-rah.”
But of course.
Now, Bailey sat just behind Gilar as the girl stroked the paddles with an energy Bailey could only admire. But she was paddling for the new land, of course, and a new life. Quite a girl. Bailey blamed herself for not seeing Gilar's potential at the beginning. But they both had a lot to learn.
Zhen was still on board the
Restoration
, but would be coming down in a later flight. The woman would be the only modern biological scientist on the planet. Single-handedly, Zhen could hardly expect to make much progress on bringing humans forth from genetic code. Perhaps their main issue would be to raise up the next generation to continue the work. Their schooling would begin with the knowledge stored in the
Restoration
, and move on to Quadi things. But Bailey, however, didn't see herself as a schoolmarm. Instead, she saw herself enjoying morning tea in private apartments, then giving singing lessons to two or three gifted students in the afternoons…
But in truth, there were other things the hoda might ask of her.
How do we have children? How do we form families, Earth style? And should we?
Bailey thought they would figure it all out, and that she could help in that process.
Though the battle was three days past, the river still bore
a few bodies. Dassa pulled the fallen into skiffs, bearing them away for burial. At Vidori's command, they made no distinction among judipon, uldia, king's guard, or hoda. But once past the confluence of the Amalang, where the uldia pavilion lay hidden up its smoggy length, the fleet broke free of these mortal signs of conflict. They passed the hospital camp and soon approached the region where Anton meant to make a brief stop.
Most of the boats proceeded on, but Anton, Gilar, and Bailey, along with a few soldiers, pointed their canoes into a region of tall grasses where hidden canals plied their way into a marshland.
Nidhe, the king's brother, had a sure memory of the route, and he led the way. Behind him came Anton's boat and one empty boat in tow.
The day was clearing of smog. The fires had not come so far as this, and Bailey allowed her eyes to rest on the apple-green grasses, leaning over on the breeze. Clear of trees except for one nearby stand, the land lay flat and broad, with the sky arching over them in an unaccustomed swath. It was a glorious day and one that made her thankful for life and sky and water. The thread of memory, of Remy—her sister and daughter—came to her. She didn't shoo it away. That undercurrent would always be there. She let it flow through her, graying the day a little. But before long the day brightened again.
After a time, Anton and Gilar returned from where they had gone. They carried the shroud between them, and placed it in the extra boat. Bailey looked hard at the bundle of bones.
Oh, my dear
, she thought. And said it for so many reasons, not all of them having to do with Remy.
They retraced their path through the marsh. The hoda's bones would be the first laid to rest in the new burial grounds, the one in the fourth pavilion that the king's engineers and workmen and hoda would build. Here would be a burial ground for the born to bear, and someday soon Bailey
would lie down there, too. They all would. And that was just fine.
Back on the Sodesh, the sun fell harshly on their backs. Bailey donned her hat. In front of her, Gilar did the same, having fashioned one in imitation of Bailey's. Gilar had stopped taking the cleansing broth in the mornings, but her hair was still missing, and her bald head remained sensitive to the sun. She was the newest hoda, the last to be clipped. Soon the hoda would have to pick a hairstyle, Bailey thought. She set her thoughts to it.
Ahead of them, they could see the rest of the fleet just turning a bend in the river. Bailey's group paddled to catch up. By her side, Anton was instructing the three crew members in Dassa-style paddling, and they looked like boys on an outing. Well, she felt the same way herself. Noting her gaze, Anton waved a paddle, and it glistened in the morning sun before diving down to the river again. She saluted off the brim of her hat. Thank God he had made it back to her. Someone had to carry on in the long run.
Meanwhile, Bailey felt that the day warranted a song. She wasn't sure if it should be a finale or an opening. But certainly, a song might do.
As Bailey tested out a few bars, Gilar turned around, paddle in hand, and smiled, showing teeth, in the human style. She raised an eyebrow, inquiring.
Smiling back, Bailey answered, “A new song, Gilar. Puccini this time.” She would sing a song about a child, “O mio bambino caro.”
Bailey added, “Time to expand your repertoire, my dear.”
Kay Kenyon began her writing career as a copywriter at WDSM-TV in Duluth, Minnesota. She kept up her interest in writing through careers in marketing and transportation planning, and published her first novel,
The Seeds of Time
, in 1997.
The Braided World
is her sixth novel. She lives in Wenatchee, Washington, with her husband.
Visit her website at
www.kaykenyon.com
Or email her at
[email protected]
THE BRAIDED WORLD
A Bantam Spectra Book / February 2003
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2003 by Kay Kenyon
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eISBN: 978-0-307-48245-7
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