Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3 (78 page)

“Grace? What sort of a name is that? It says nothing about you; it has no colour.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked disconcerted. “Were you given that name at birth?”

“Yes.”

“Then it has not developed with you. It does not incorporate your persona; it does not say who you are. That would not do here, on Xiantha!”

“How do you decide on a name?”

“You chose whichever one most describes you at that time, that most accurately represents your persona. And then you decide the colour you have attained, according to your completeness, your feelings.”

Grace was struggling to take this in. “So if somebody is very unfulfilled?”

“A monochrome. Then we have bichromes, trichromes – up to decachromes. After that we have multichrome, plurichrome and, finally, if we attain our true potential, panchrome.”

“Then you have only one more level to go?”

“True, but I am afraid that I shall never reach it now.”

“I hope that you will,” said Grace politely.

The man who kept canths looked pleased with her. “You are all very welcome to this canth farm,” he told them. “You can be sure your canth will find you here. Our animals match themselves to their riders, you know.”

“Do they? That sounds interesting.”

“But you must return them to me when you leave Xiantha, and exportation is forbidden. They are a very highly appreciated resource here, and the flares from Almagest have limited their numbers. They are a protected species and cannot be removed from here.”

“You will buy them back?” asked Six.

“Buy them back? Of course not. It is believed that these animals may be the descendents of the lost animas of Xiantha! When you bring them back they will have absorbed a part of you. They will have become a part of your lives. How could I buy them back?”

“Then what will happen to them?”
 

“Happen? Nothing. They will be released into the corrals for the rest of your lives. If you come back they will be waiting for you. If you don’t they will enjoy retirement and reproduce.”

“Surely you meant ‘for the rest of their lives’,” said Grace.

He smiled. “It is the same thing. Once they have become a part of your lives they will live exactly as long as you do.”

Grace’s eyes were like plates. “Whichever canth I chose will die on the same day I die? That can’t be right. What if nobody chooses them?”

“Then they will die on the day the son of the son of their son is born.” The man smiled widely. “A matched canth will generally have many more descendants. They reproduce once every three years, and are ready to reproduce first at three, so if you live longer than ten years or so you are doing them a great favour.” He looked at them, pleased. “That is why I wear many colours. I am helping you, and I am helping them. It is a great calling. But you do not choose them. No, it is the canths who choose their riders.”

“Why do you not let them go free on Xiantha – to choose whoever they want?” asked Grace.

“Alas, that is no longer possible.” The canth keeper moved his arms, making the multicolours in the clothing he was wearing swirl together. He checked their expressions, to see if they were still interested, and then went on. “Like all of Xiantha, they have been threatened by the flares of Almagest. This particular spot, so sheltered by the stronger magnetic field and the Xianthes, is protected from almost all solar flares, so it has become the only place where the species is safe. The canths only reproduce if the radiation levels are low. So animals which lived in other places have died out. This farm is the only sanctuary left for them.”

“How do they move so smoothly?” asked Six.

The Xianthan laughed. “It is said that they are able to travel so smoothly because they build up deposits of a mythical substance called excanthite, after the canths themselves, and that this slightly repulses the strong magnetic field here on Xiantha, especially here in the higher latitudes, near the Xianthes. Legend has it that this is what makes them the most comfortable ride in the binary system, allowing them to go faster, further and with less effort. There is no scientific evidence for this theory as yet, but the locals have a firm belief in it, convinced that the nearly vertical magnetic field lines here near the north pole explain why the canths have prospered.”
 

“We are going a long way. Wouldn’t it be better to take two each?” asked Six.

“Two? How could you have two? The link is only one to one. What you ask makes no sense”

Diva smiled at the man. “It often doesn’t,” she said sweetly, ignoring Six’s gasp. “Which of the canths do you think will be suitable for us then, Canth Keeper?”

The Xianthan led them up to the first corral, the one nearest the house. “I have the feeling,” he said, “that one of the ladies will be chosen by a high colour.” His eyes flickered to Six. “I am less sure about the gentleman, though.”

“Gee, thanks! I suppose I am to get one of the black ones!”

“If you were it would be a very great thing. To date no black canth has ever accepted anybody.” He opened the gate of the first corral and signaled to them to stand outside.

They waited. And nothing happened. None of the canths appeared to be taking any notice. The Xianthan let the minutes pass calmly and then closed the gate with no sign of hurry.

“The canths in this corral have shown no reaction. We must continue to the next one.”

The same procedure was used at the next corral, with the same result. Six and Diva began to become impatient, although Grace was quite ready to wait.

Nothing happened at the next corral, or the next, or the next, and even their Xianthan guide seemed rather taken aback. “Not to worry,” he said. “There are still ten more corrals, and we will find the right canth in one of them.”

“Has there ever been a case of somebody being rejected by all of the canths?” demanded Six.

“Never. Even the Sellites who visit us from time to time find a match.”

Grace swallowed. “I am a Sellite,” she said in a small voice.

The canth keeper looked surprised. “You? A Sellite? No! That I cannot believe!”

“But I am not genetically engineered.”

His face cleared. “Aah! Then you must be the daughter of the woman I knew as ‘Wife of the head of the donor apprentice house’, a trichromatic at the time, if I remember correctly! I knew there would be some explanation. You were engendered here on Xiantha.”

“How do you know that?” Grace lifted her eyebrows.

“Your birth was the reason that they had to cut short their second visit. Your mother told me that she was expecting a baby, and that it would not be possible to apply genetic engineering. It was going to be too late by the time they returned to Valhai. I remember your mother well. Has she not told you about her visit here?”

Grace shook her head. “She spoke about some paintings, that is all.”

“Then it is not my place to speak either. But her canth is still here, so I know that she is alive.”

Grace nodded.

“But her mate – your father – is dead. His canth died – what – four or five years ago, now?”

Grace nodded again.

“I remember her particularly because her canth has been one of the happiest we have ever had. It has had many, many sons, and it has radiated its content for all these years. It was a lucky day when your mother came here.”

“She has never said anything.”

“She may not even know. These things are perhaps only obvious to people such as myself. I spend so much time with these animals that I sometimes think they speak to me.”

“Do you have a canth yourself?” asked Grace.

“Indeed I do.”

“Then I am sure it is very happy too.”

The Xianthan bowed and looked gratified. “Your words honour me,” he said simply. “Now, shall we go on?”

They continued walking past the gates to the corrals, stopping at each so that the man who kept canths could open the gate, and wait for any possible responses. The corrals were huge areas that stretched off as far as they could see, but shaped as segments of a circle, narrowing in to another, concentric circle at the centre of the original circle. All the gates lay on the inner circle, which was about a kilometre in circumference.

At the next gate but one, something happened. As they stood waiting, a ripple of interest seemed to run through those canths which were visible. They turned their huge heads to the far part of the corral, as if watching something in the distance. Then the sound of hooves on the hard earth became clear, and there was almost a trembling of the ground. The canths seemed to produce a humming sound, of some great excitement. Gradually, the hooves became clearer until at last the vague shape of one particular equine, moving towards them at high speed, became visible. Grace clutched Diva’s arm as the magnificent beast approached them.
 

As it finally approached the open gate, all three of the visitors held their breaths. The canth passed the Xianthan, dipping its head infinitesimally as it passed, now at a walk. It seemed to halt for a brief minute, looking around at the three visitors with curiosity. Then it moved up to Six, and lowered its head again, this time unmistakably in his direction.

“It chose me!” he shouted. “It chose me!”

Diva touched her ears and winced at the sound level. “We can see that, nomus. There is no need to shout!”

Six was pleased. “I got chosen first!”

The canth keeper exchanged glances with the girls. “Indeed,” he said. “You have been chosen by a dapple grey. That is a most unusual colour. You are very fortunate. May you serve each other well. Your money is welcome!” Although Six was tempted to answer back to that, he held his tongue. This man seemed to be so genuinely content for him that the comment may actually have been made sincerely. Discretion being the better part of valour, he kept silent. Grace flashed him a grateful look and he straightened his shoulders.

The little procession continued on to the next gate, joined now by Six’s canth which was following them docilely.

“Who names them?” asked Diva.

The canth keeper raised one eyebrow. “Name them?”

“Calls them something – you know, like you are called the man who keeps canths.”

“No names are necessary. What would be the point of naming them? They are free spirits, not to be tied to the letters you put to their bodies.”

Six looked more favourably on the canth keeper. At last, he thought, a man of sense. That would teach Diva. Maybe she would stop always trying to name things.

AT THE NEXT gate a canth chose Diva. It was slightly smaller than Six’s, and instead of a dapple grey, turned out to be a seal brown. The Xianthan told her that the seal brown was a very rare combination of dominant and recessive alleles. Diva stroked her canth on the neck, reminded of the avifauna on Pictoria, who she still missed, but there was no immediate mental link in this case, and the canth was clearly unlikely to be influenced by her will.

Grace’s equine was proving more circumspect, however, and it wasn’t until the very last corral that they were able to hear the thunder of hooves again as the last canth came to meet its choice of rider. Grace was speechless as the animal came slowly through the gate, and dropped its head slightly in front of the man who kept canths. It was a beautiful golden colour, with flecks of silver. Even the Xianthan seemed to be holding his breath as it walked nearer to them.

“A palomino gold,” he told them, “with silver markings. That is an excellent sign. They are very rare, and it is a great thing that this animal will have the chance to strengthen its line. This is a very important day for all of us – a day worthy of much colour.”

Grace stroked a whorl of silver set into the golden neck, and felt absurdly pleased. She could tell that the Xianthan was most happy with the canth which had chosen her, and that made her feel privileged. Struck suddenly by something, she turned back to the man.

“What colour picked my mother?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I am not at liberty to tell you; you must ask her that.” His eyes went to the distance, as if looking for something in particular. “I always felt that she would come back to us one day. Tell her, when you see her, that we are waiting.”

“Yes. I … err … will.” Grace was finding out more and more about her mother. The person who had seemed so predictable as wife to the head of the donor house, had been shown to have some very unpredictable facets. It was as if she were several different people in her own lifetime, as if she had several different lives to live.