The Call of Earth: 2 (Homecoming) (19 page)

Maybe it is simply that he knows so clearly how he wants things to be, she thought. Maybe the fact that he believes in his vision of the world so intensely makes it impossible for those around him not to believe as well. Maybe we’re all so hungry for someone to tell us what is true, what we can
count on,
that we’ll accept even a vision that makes us weak and him strong, just for the sake of having a secure world at all.

“We are only a few minutes from the deadline,” said old Kobe. “And in all our discussion this morning we have heard nothing from the Lady Rasa.”

A murmur of approval arose, but it was immediately drowned in a growl of anger. “We shouldn’t hear from her except at her trial!” cried one women. “She brought all this on us!”

Rasa calmly turned and looked at the woman who spoke. It was Frotera, of course, the lady of another teaching household, who had long been envious of Rasa. “My Lady Frotera,” Rasa said, “I fear you may be right.”

That silenced them.

“Do you think I haven’t also looked and seen what you all can see? Which of the calamities that has befallen us has not been tied to me? My son is accused of murder,
my daughters have betrayed each other, Rashgallivak tried to drag them from my own house, my beloved city has been torn by riot and fire, and the army that squats in the gates of Basilica shows you a letter that I wrote. And I did write it, though I never dreamed that it would be used as he has used it. Sisters, all of this is true, but does it mean I have brought all of this upon us? Or does it mean that it has fallen more heavily on me than on any except those whose loved ones perished in the rioting?”

It made them think; ah, yes, she still had the power to tell them a story and make them see, at least for a moment, through her eyes.

“Sisters, if I believed that I was truly the cause of all the evil that has come to Basilica, I would leave at once. I love Basilica too much to be the cause of its downfall. But I am not the cause. The first cause was the greed of Gaballufix—and he married me as his first attempt to make an inroad against our ancient laws. Was it my husband who brought private soldiers into this city? No. It was a man whom I had
refused
to have as my husband. I repudiated Gaballufix while many of you on this council kept voting to tolerate his abuses! Do not forget that!”

Oh, they didn’t forget, as they shrank back in their seats.

“Now the Gorayni have come with my letter. But I wrote that letter to help a young Basilican guard obtain refuge with the Gorayni. I knew he was in danger from Rashgallivak’s mercenaries, and he had been kind to my son, so I gave him what small protection I could. Now I see that this was a terrible mistake. My letter alerted them to our weakness, and they came to exploit it. But I didn’t create our weakness, and if the Gorayni hadn’t come, would we be in
better
condition this morning
than we are now? Would we even be holding this meeting, or would we all be victims of rape and plunder by the Palwashantu mercenaries? Would our city be in ashes? So tell me, sisters, which is better, to be in a bad situation, yet with
some
hope, or to be destroyed, powerless, utterly hopeless?”

Again a murmur, but she was carrying them. Only rarely had she spoken at such length or with such force—she had long since learned that she remained more powerful by never openly committing herself to anything, but rather working behind the scenes. Still, she had spoken often enough to know how to bend them, at least a little, to her will. It was a power that would be less effective every time she used it, but this was a time when she must use it or lose everything.

“If we defy him, what will happen then? Even if he keeps his word and leaves, can any of you say that our city guard will be as docile as they once were? And I don’t believe that he
will
keep his word. Have you ever heard of General Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno giving up one village, one field, one
pebble
that he has conquered?” A growing murmur. “Yes, it
is
General Moozh—we’d be fools to imagine otherwise for a moment. What other Gorayni general would have the audacity to do what he has done? Don’t you see how daring and brilliant his plan has been? He came here with only a thousand men, but for a few crucial hours we believed he had a hundred times that number. He has been subservient and obsequious, and yet he has deployed his soldiers where he wanted them, seduced our city guard, and seized whatever supplies he needed. Always he apologizes and explains. Always he keeps us believing that he means well. But he is a liar with every breath he takes, and nothing that he says to us is true.
He means to add Basilica to the Gorayni Empire. He will
never
let us go.”

Loud muttering filled the room as she waited. Several of the women wept. “Defy him then!” one of the councilors cried.

“And what good would defiance do?” asked Rasa. “How many of us would die? And to what purpose? A fifth of our city is already in ashes. We have already huddled in terror as drunken men rampaged through our city. What would happen if now the plunderers were sober? If they were the same disciplined killers who nailed the rioters to the walls with their own knives? There’d be no refuge for us then!”

“So . . . what do you propose we do, Lady Rasa?”

“Give him what he has asked for. Permission to stay. Only make provision for his soldiers to be quartered outside the walls of the city. Make them take the same oaths that men are required to take when they become our husbands—to stay out of the forbidden parts of the city, to refrain from attempting to own any real property, and to leave when their term is up.”

A murmur of approval.

“Will he accept it, Lady Rasa?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “But so far, he has made an effort at least to
seem
to comply with our wishes. Let us make our offer as public as possible, and then hope he’ll find it more convenient to adhere to its terms than not.”

Rasa’s exhortations were too successful by half. Yes, they approved her proposal, almost unanimously. But they also appointed her the ambassador to deliver their “invitation” to General Moozh. It was not an interview she looked forward to, but she had no time even to wonder what she ought to say or how she ought to act. The invitation had to be delivered personally and immediately;
it was printed out, signed, and sealed on the spot, and the council watched as she left the chamber with the document in hand, minutes before the deadline that they themselves had set.

It was not Mebbekew’s finest morning. He had dutifully trudged through the forbidden slopes of Basilica as Nafai led the way, just as he had followed Elemak all the way from the desert around the city to the northern woods. But when they came within sight of Rasa’s house, Mebbekew slipped away. He had no intention of being a pawn in
their
plans. If they were here to do some wife-finding, Mebbekew would pick his own, thank you kindly. He would certainly
not
tag along behind his older brother, taking second choice forever; nor would he swallow the humiliation of going into his little brothers’ mother’s house and pleading with
her
to give up one of her precious nieces. Elemak had his heart set on that porcelain doll, Eiadh . . . well, that was his privilege. Mebbekew preferred women with blood in their veins, women who grunted and growled when they made love, women of vigor and strength. Women who loved Mebbekew.

Well, he found out about vigor and strength, right enough! The fires had been worst in Dolltown and Dauberville, so few of his old lovers were in the houses where he had known them. The few that he could find were
glad
to see him. They were all over him with tears and kisses, eager to have him stay with them. Stay with them
where?
In a half-burnt house with no running water? And
why
did they want him? So he could do all the brute man-labor required to rebuild, to repair; and so he could be their guardian. What a joke! Mebbekew, standing guard over some poor frightened girl! No doubt they would have rewarded him generously with
their bodies if he had played the role they scripted for him, but it wasn’t worth it—
no
woman was worth it right now, if her needs were even greater than his own. He wasn’t here to be a protector or a provider, he was here to find protection and providence.

So he left them with a kiss and a promise, without even staying long enough to bathe or eat, because he knew that if he once got within their clinging embrace these women-in-need would make of him a husband. He had no intention of husbanding himself to women who had nothing to offer him but work and trouble!

As for suggesting to any of his old lovers that she give up everything in Basilica and come wander with him in the desert until they found a promised land, meanwhile having a passel of babies in order to populate their new home—it never seemed to come up in any of his conversations. Not that some of them wouldn’t have done it. As they surveyed the ruin of their once-frivolous lives in Basilica, as they remembered the fear of that awful night of rioting, and then the horror of the dead bodies pinned to the walls by the Gorayni, the idea of striding out into the desert with a
real
man to lead and protect them would appeal to some of them. For the first few days, anyway; then they’d realize that the desert was lonely and no fun at all, and they’d be as eager to return to Basilica, ruined or not, as Mebbekew himself was.

It hardly mattered. He never intended to make such a proposal to any of his womenfriends. Let Elemak and Nafai play along with Father and have their stupid visions if they wanted to. All Mebbekew wanted was some woman to take him in to a nice, clean house and a nice clean bed, and hide him and console him for the loss of his fortune until Elemak and Nafai went away. Why should Mebbekew ever go out in the desert again? Basilica might be half-burnt and terrorized and occupied
by Gorayni troops, but the toilets and baths still worked in
most
houses, and the food was fresh and there was plenty of pleasure and fun in the old town yet.

Yet even that limited plan wouldn’t have worked for long, he gradually came to realize. During his earlymorning wanderings through Dolltown, he realized that he couldn’t hide in Basilica for long. For he had entered the city illegally, without being recorded, and somewhere along the line he’d get picked up and taken in. The city guard were quite active in the streets now, more than he’d ever seen, and they were demanding thumbscans and eyescans at checkpoints on several streets. He was bound to be picked up one of these days. Indeed, it wasn’t easy getting from Dolltown to Rasa’s house on Rain Street.

Yes, Rasa’s house. It galled him, but he had tried everything else; so here he was, ready to surrender completely to his brothers and his father and their idiotic plans.

Standing in the street, looking at the front of Rasa’s house, ready to give in—and yet not ready. It was unbearable. Humiliating. Knock, knock. Good morning, I’m Rasa’s sons’ half-brother, and I’m here because all my ex-lovers sent me packing and so I’d be grateful if Rasa and my half-brothers would take me in and give me something to eat and drink, not to mention a long hot shower, before I die.

It was a hideous scene to imagine, and even though he knew he had to do it, Mebbekew had never acquired much practice in doing unpleasant things just because he knew he had to do them. So instead he did what he
usually
did under such circumstances. He waited, just within reach of his painful goal, and then proceeded to do nothing.

He did nothing—suffering imagined torments all the while—for at least twenty minutes, watching the classes of young girls and boys that were meeting on the porch. Now and then he could even catch a word that was said, and so he tried to guess the subjects being taught and what the particular lesson was. It took his mind off his troubles for a moment or two, at least. The nearer class, he decided, was studying either geometry or organic chemistry or building with blocks.

A young woman left one of the classes, jogged down the steps of the porch, and then strode purposefully toward him. No doubt she had seen him watching the porch and decided he was a would-be child molester or burglar. He thought of turning and leaving before she reached him—which was what she almost certainly expected him to do—but instead he studied her face and realized that he recognized her.

“Good morning,” she said icily, as soon as she was close enough to say it without shouting.

Mebbekew wasn’t worried about the prospect of an argument. He had never yet met a young and beautiful woman he couldn’t warm up quickly enough, if he tried hard enough to find out what she hungered for, and then gave it to her. It was always a pleasure dealing with a woman he had never worked on before. Especially because he recognized her at once—or at least saw a resemblance.

“Didn’t you used to be Dolya?” he asked.

Her face turned scarlet, but her expression became colder and angrier. So he was right—she
was
Dol. “Shall I send for the Guard to send you away?”

“I saw you in
Pirates
and
West Wind.
You were brilliant,” he said.

Her blush deepened and her expression softened.

“You had the talent,” he went on. “It wasn’t just
looks. It wasn’t just that you were young and sweet. I never understood why they didn’t give you adult parts as you got older. I know you could have carried it off. It was damned unfair.”

And now her expression wasn’t angry at all, but rather bemused. “I have never heard anyone engage in such transparent, cynical flattery,” she said.

“Ah, but I meant every word. Dolya—I suppose you go by the adult name, Dol, now?”

“To my friends, I do. Others call me ma’am.”

“Ma’am, I hope that someday I can earn the right to be your friend. In the meantime, I was hoping you might tell me if my half-brothers Elemak and Nafai are in Rasa’s house.”

She eyed him up and down. “I don’t see that you look all that much like either of them.”

“Ah, but now you flatter
me,”
he said.