The Ghost Sister (10 page)

Now, the vehicle was gliding down the long river valley; they were almost at the tower. Shu risked a glance and saw that Bel's hands were white at the knuckles as she gripped the aircar's controls. It was that glimpse of the child, of course. Bel had never seen real deprivation before, and it seemed to have hit her hard.

“I must say,” Shu said with deliberate fatuousness, as though she were remarking on nothing more important than the weather. “I'm looking forward to seeing this tower of yours. And to meeting Mevennen.” Bel flushed miserably, but Shu pretended not to see. Hoping she didn't sound too patronizing, she went on. “It's such a hard thing to do, to try to understand another culture, especially one as alien as this appears to have become. You think you know what's going on, but you can't ever be sure, can you?” Bel was silent. “Let's try and find out a little more before we jump to conclusions,” Shu added.

Bel shot her a doubtful glance and said tightly, “Any culture that would treat a child so … We have to
do
something, Shu. These people seem so far from the grace of Gaia.”

“Perhaps they've found their own kind of grace,” Shu said, but Bel didn't seem to hear. “What do you want for this world, Bel? If the goddess appeared and granted you three wishes—what would you ask for?”

Bel Zhur raised her head and stared through the view-screen. “I'd ask her to save the people of Monde D'Isle,” she murmured. Looking at her sharp profile, Shu thought of the
old tale from Earth: of Jeanne d'Arc, the maid of OrlÉans who heard the voice of God. The words seemed to stick in her throat.

“Save them?” Shu asked. “From what?”

Bel Zhur blinked and the console crackled with static, as if in response.

“From themselves,” she said. “From their own damaged natures that could allow a child to exist in such a state. What else?”

What else?
Shu didn't like to provoke an argument by saying that attitudes such as this should be left to the goddess alone. Instead, she was silent.

“And it's so—extreme here,” Bel said, rather petulantly. “Always too hot or too cold. I don't like the cold.” Irie St Syre was always warm and temperate, its gentle weathers obeying the hand of humanity.

Shu said, “Well, I'm sure we'll get used to it, once we've found out a few more things. And we've still got Sylvian working on whatever the technology in the ruins is, so— That's the tower, isn't it?” Shu craned forward to get a better view. She could feel a tight knot of excitement bunching her stomach. The aircar drifted down to land on the river-bank in a grove of dark trees. The drive system powered down with a whir.

“All right, Bel,” Shu said, trying to sound professional and calm. “Lead the way.”

Cautiously, they made their way toward the open gates of the tower. The scanner showed no life signs. There was no one to be seen as they stepped through into the courtyard. It was very quiet. Shu gazed up at ancient stone and wood, at the shadowed balconies. At the far end of the courtyard lay stalls: some kind of stabling arrangement, Shu surmised. She crossed to the stalls and peered cautiously in. The stalls were empty of straw, their floors bare stone, but the walls bore a faint glaze of something rusty and red. There was a faint smell which Shu recognized as meat; the animals were
carnivorous, perhaps. Dia, a vegan like all her Sect, wouldn't like that …

Shu turned to find Bel hovering at her shoulder. “No sign of Mevennen?” she asked.

“I don't know where she is.”

“Perhaps we should go inside,” Shu said, though a thread of unease plucked at her at the thought. “Inside” meant going farther from the safety of the aircar.

“Perhaps,” Bel said doubtfully, evidently sharing her thought.

Caution and curiosity warred within Shu. The latter won. “Come on,” she said. “There doesn't seem to be anyone around. I'm going in.”

They found a high, broad door beneath the eastern balcony, and Shu gave it an experimental push. It swung open easily. Shu stepped through into an echoing hall. The light, filtered through waxed paper windows, fell gently across the floor. Dust motes spun in the sudden shaft where a window had torn. The flags of the floor, visible between a few dark, soft rugs, were polished by use, and yet there was a faint but unmistakable sense of neglect. The room was somber, but nothing was harsh or clumsily made. As craftsmen, Shu thought approvingly, these people had a delicate touch. The original colonists would have been an untraceable mix of peoples, their origins blurred by the genetic melting pot that humankind had become, but in its spareness the hall reminded her of the ancient Japanese rooms depicted in her own grandmother's records. With a smile, Shu remembered her grandmother talking so proudly of unproven, adopted ancestries. They were all kin now, but this room spoke to her of her probable heritage. It was almost like walking into somewhere known and familiar, somewhere that might even become home, one day. She brushed a hand across the rich redness of a wall hanging, touched the softness of the tapestry slung across a seat. The hall smelled of incense and age.

Bel lingered in the doorway, blinking in the dim light, and the life sign scanner whirred in warning. From outside a voice called, as if in command, “Bel Zhur!” The name echoed, whispering, throughout the hall.

Shu looked up and gasped. A woman stood in the doorway. Her face was the color of a shadow and her long eyes were a silvery blankness. She wore a gray robe, almost the same shade as her skin, and her face was thin and set. Her pale hair streamed down her back. She could have been a ghost, but the sword in her hand was aimed at Bel's throat.

On the day of the ghost's return, Mevennen spent the morning on the balcony of the tower, reading another of the books she had brought with her. It was the history of their house, written in each
satahrach
'
s
careful handwriting, and illustrated. The middle pages showed the energy meridians which traced their way through the northern provinces. Mevennen could see the intricate line of the coast and the islands, but to the east there was nothing, for no one had ventured into those barren lands for centuries—except in legend. She remembered the old story of Yr En Lai, last of the Ettic lords, who had sought healing for his love in the lost city of Outreven, and she wondered what might really lie in those lands. She'd dreamed about Outreven, when she was younger, had lain awake telling herself stories in which she lived there among its magical towers, a place where she was whole and well …

Slowly, Mevennen traced the meridians with one finger, murmuring beneath her breath. This was the only way she would ever know what patterns lay within the land, she thought, and she glanced down at her own left hand, which carried the house marks tattooed around each finger. Her right hand was bare, apart from the one little sign of her
name around her thumb:
the road to the star.
The other members of the family had their personal signs, given by the world. Mevennen wore rings to cover the lack. She looked up as Eleres stepped through the door.

“Mevennen? I'm going down to the river. Sereth's around somewhere, I think, and so is Morrac. I'm leaving the defense down, but it might be better if you stayed here until I get back. Don't go to the orchard on your own.”

“Why not?” Mevennen asked.

“I'd just feel happier if you didn't,” her brother said firmly. She could see from the look on his face that he did not want to trouble her with explanations, and sighed. She was so tired of being protected, but she said, “All right, then, I won't. Where's Eiru?”

“She's taken the murai up to the high ground to hunt for a day or so.” He leaned on the railing of the balcony, and stared out over the land. He seemed restless, Mevennen thought, and she wondered whether it was due to Morrac. She did not like Morrac, although she tried to, because he was Eleres's lover and Sereth's brother, and her own cousin. But she knew that Morrac had been one of the ones who had argued for her death, and she knew also that he did not like her in turn, although he was always punctiliously charming, at least whenever Eleres was around. But she did not like to think about Morrac; more interesting by far to consider the spirits who were seeking her out.

“Eleres?” she asked, carefully casual. “Do you believe in ghosts? Not ones like me; I mean real spirits.”

“I suppose so,” Eleres said, considering. “I've seen things in the high hills, or on the shore at evening. But I'm no shadowdrinker. I don't know much about the world beyond.” He paused. “Do you believe in them, Mevennen?”

She gazed narrow-eyed down the estuary. “What would you say if I said I'd seen them here?”

“Then I'd believe you,” Eleres said.

Mevennen smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“So,” her brother said, smiling in turn. “Are there ghosts here? Is the tower haunted?”

“I'm not sure. But I'll tell you if it is.”

Her brother looked at her with his head on one side. “Will you be all right, here on your own? I won't be gone long.”

Mevennen looked up at him. “I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. You've all gone to enough trouble on my account already.”

He shrugged. “Not really. Sereth fancied a change. And you know what Eiru's like—any chance to get away from the family and she takes it.” He smiled again, wryly. “And if truth be told, coming here gives me an excuse to see Morrac away from the usual family bickering.”

Mevennen shaded her eyes as she stared up at him. “He's your lover, Eleres. Do you need an excuse to see him?”

Her brother's smile disappeared, and he said only, “I'll be back soon. Don't go beyond the tower.”

“I'll be fine,” Mevennen echoed.

She watched as Eleres made his way through the courtyard. The defense was down, so he walked through the gates without a pause to vanish among the trees. Movement caught Mevennen's eye, then, and she turned to see something strange drifting down the river. It was similar to the star they had seen falling from the sky above the steppe, though Mevennen had never been sure whether that had been no more than a dream. But this thing was smaller and shaped like one of the night insects that filled the river air at dusk. Mevennen watched in alarm as it sailed behind the trees and disappeared from view. She wondered whether she should call to her brother, but Eleres was no longer in sight.

Rising, Mevennen went to the balcony and leaned over the rail, trying to see where the thing had gone. Nothing happened for several minutes, and then she saw two small figures making their way between the trees. One of them had pale hair and at first she thought they must be Sereth
and Eiru, but they were dressed in unfamiliar indigo-blue and as they grew nearer she saw that the pale hair was golden. Mevennen felt suddenly cold as she realized who they must be. The ghost had come back, and brought another with it. Curious, and not a little afraid, Mevennen watched as they came through the gates of the tower and stood looking around them. They walked across to the stables, then vanished inside the hall.

Mevennen thought,
No one is home, only me. What if they mean harm?
Frantically, she tried to remember what the
sa-tahrach
had told her about ghosts: a very old tale, that they would flinch from metal. In one of the rooms down the hallway there was a sword, black and ancient, dating from the time of some warrior ancestress. As quickly as she could, Mevennen hurried down the hall and lifted the sword from the wall. It was heavy in her grip, and even though she had never been strong enough to learn the skills of a warrior and did not even know if such weapons could really be used against ghosts, it made her feel safer. Carrying the sword in both hands, she made her way down to the hall and paused beside the door. She looked inside. The ghosts were not making mischief, as far as Mevennen could see, but simply looking at things.

“Bel Zhur!” Mevennen called. She raised the sword. The ghost turned, sharply. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Mevennen? I'm sorry. We shouldn't be here.”

“What are you doing?” Mevennen demanded.

The second ghost, an older, dark-haired woman, said soothingly, “We're only looking. My name is Shu Gho. I'm a friend of Bel's, whom you know already. We meant no harm. We didn't think anyone was here.”

Slowly, Mevennen lowered the sword. She did not want to tell the ghosts that the house was empty.

“Well, I'm here. My family is here, too,” she added.

“Your family? Could we meet them?” the elder ghost, Shu Gho, asked.

“No!” Mevennen said hastily. “They wouldn't be able to talk to you, anyway.”

Shu Gho frowned. “Why not?”

Mevennen, brought back to the same sore point, sighed. Perhaps she should try to baffle the ghosts; say it was a gift, that she was shadowdrinker or
satahrach
, but she had never hid the truth from herself, so why do so for others? Even the dead.

“They could see you, but you wouldn't really be real to them. You only seem real to me because I'm ill,” she explained.

“I don't understand,” Shu Gho said. She came to stand by Mevennen's side, looking up into her face. She did not seem afraid of the sword but she was elderly and smaller than Mevennen herself, unlike the willowy Bel Zhur, and this reassured Mevennen a little.

Mevennen explained, “My family are normal people. You know—ordinary. They live in the world, they can sense it. They hear it when it speaks to them. So do I, but it's too loud—it's deafening. You don't sense it at all, do you?”

The ghosts looked puzzled.

“I'm sorry, Mevennen,” Shu Gho said. “I don't know what you mean.”

“I thought not,” Mevennen said. She sighed. “I can't live easily in the world; it makes me unwell and I can't stay long outside. And I can't join the hunts or the masques, when everyone goes bloodmind mad. So I'm a ghost, too; just a different kind from you.”

Shu Gho was listening intently. Her eyes were folded at the corners and dark within white orbs. Mevennen was intrigued to notice that the legends of the earliest times were true: ghosts'eyes had three parts, unlike human eyes, and it was said that they could not see the wind as a human could, and thus they became lost and unable to find their way home. And their skin was such a strange color: golden in the case of Bel, though Shu was paler and more sallow.