The Red Queen (27 page)

Ana impatiently bade them both to sit and Swallow obeyed, saying, ‘I think you had better repeat yourself, for I misheard . . .

‘You did not mishear,’ I told him, as Dameon sat down, too. ‘I went to the Hub last night and spoke to God, which turns out to be a computermachine program woken ages ago by Hannah Seraphim. Actually it was Jacob who roused it by shutting himself into a cryopod. Then Hannah came along and woke it properly, when she found Jacob and a lot of others mouldering in faulty cryopods. She woke him but God refused to release the others without govamen permission, so she bullied it into creating this place because at least the Speci would have a chance. Then when Jacob died, she came in here. She was Naha, and Covenant was supposed to fix the problems of the Speci.’

The others were gaping at me.

‘If I could not see that you are telling the exact truth, I would have thought you had gone mad,’ Swallow said slowly.

‘Or maybe it
is
as mad as it sounds, but she believes it is true,’ Ana said.

I told them everything that had happened in detail, still trying to be succinct, and they were riveted enough that they scarce interrupted me. That was just as well because I had barely got through it when Swallow noted that people were beginning to straggle into the eating hut for the first sitting.

‘We have a little time,’ I said. ‘Now tell me again about the grave. God told me Hannah and Jacob were buried together in Habitat.’

‘Then it was wrong,’ Ana said. ‘We dug up the grave. There was one set of adult bones. There is no way to know if they were male or female. Yet it was small so I would call it female.’

‘Hannah . . .’ I said. ‘But how deeply did you dig? Could there be another body deeper down?’

‘It took us most of the night to get down to the bones, even with the help of a digger. The ground is like rock, and not the soft kind,’ Swallow said. ‘I would swear the ground underneath had never been disturbed, but if you wish I will try again tonight. We had to refill the hole before leaving but it will be easier to uncover a second time. Are you . . .’

I nodded to him to go on.

‘Are you absolutely sure the computermachine told you Jacob and Hannah were buried together?’

‘Well, what it actually said was that Hannah had instructed that her bones and Jacob’s body be buried together. It put it a bit awkwardly, I remember, as if she had been talking about the bones of some other Hannah. And strictly speaking, it ought to have said
Jacob’s
bones and Hannah’s body, for he died before she did.’

‘Perhaps it lied,’ Swallow said.

‘A computermachine does not lie, Garth told me, and Reul said it too,’ Ana said. ‘It has no motivation to do anything but tell what it knows. It has no guile because it is not alive.’

‘If it were instructed to lie . . .’ Swallow said. ‘Or maybe it spoke the truth it had been told, and
that
was a lie.’

‘But why would it or anyone else lie about the bodies?’ Ana asked. ‘And who would the lie be intended for? Jacob is dead and Hannah too, and even this Kelber.’

‘Kelver,’ I corrected. ‘Kelver Rhonin.’

‘What sort of name is that?’ Ana demanded.

‘A Beforetime name,’ Dameon murmured.

‘Hannah would have been the last person to speak to the computermachine before she went into Habitat, right? Maybe she told it what to do with her body and then she told it to do something else to Jacob’s,’ Ana said. ‘Dell once told me that a computermachine can refuse to tell you something because you don’t have the words or code to unlock the knowledge. Perhaps Hannah told it to tell you they were buried in the same place, unless you had the secret words.’

‘Maybe God sent the Tumen to do what Hannah asked and they disobeyed,’ Swallow said.

I realised I had not told the others about the andrones, and did so now, keeping one eye on the eating hut, where a few people were straggling in to the first sitting. ‘If God told the Tumen to bury the bodies together, they would have done it,’ I said. ‘The andrones are not separate beings with minds of their own. To suggest they would disobey God would be like saying I want to pick something up but my hands refuse to do it. That would not happen unless I were ill, and a machine does not fall ill, though maybe it can break . . .’

Swallow said, ‘I did not mean the Tumen disobeyed God but only that they might not have obeyed its command
as we imagine
.’

‘There is another possibility,’ I said. ‘Hannah might have seen a vision of me at her grave with Cassandra’s key, and
assumed
that was where I had got it.’

‘But Hannah is the only name on the marker so why would she think Jacob was buried with her?’ Ana asked.

‘I will ask God about it. Tonight, I hope. But in the meantime, have another dig around in the grave and see if you can’t find the key. That is the vital thing.’ I got to my feet reluctantly, wishing I could stay and talk. There was so much yet to say.

‘Wait,’ Swallow said, getting to his feet. ‘What about a way out of Habitat? Did it tell you anything?’

‘Nothing of any use, but I will try again tonight. There has to be a way.’

Dameon rose too. ‘If I have understood you well, Elspeth, we are in one of the four settlements that comprise Pellmar Quadrants, and the Galon Institute is in Quadrant One, which is this settlement. That means Miryum is likely to be close by and if Jacob’s body is buried outside of Habitat, it is likely to be somewhere near as well.’

‘If only we could get out of here and look for them,’ Swallow muttered.

‘It is sad to think she came all this way to find Jacob and then she died,’ Dragon said suddenly.

‘Not so sad,’ Swallow said almost defiantly. ‘She did as she swore and completed her preparations for Elspeth honourably. And she followed Jacob or her visions and was able to wake him so that they had some time together ere the end, for love. That is not nothing.’

‘Except she didn’t,’ Ana said with asperity. ‘She didn’t fulfil her vow to Jacob
or
complete her preparations for Elspeth because she isn’t lying with him in death and we do not know where Cassandra’s key is to be found.’

‘Maybe the grave we dug up is not Hannah Seraphim’s,’ Swallow said. ‘We have not looked at every marker. There might be another Hannah, or a Jacob. Maybe we had better look through the graves rather than digging up the same one again.’

He had a point. ‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘Do what you said and see if there is not another grave. But you won’t get through the whole burying ground in a day.’

‘We will find it if it is here and if their names are on it,’ Ana said. ‘You concentrate on God and learn the way out of Habitat. If it refuses, you must find a way to convince it.’

‘The simplest solution would be for whatever we need to make God let us out of Habitat to be in Hannah and Jacob’s grave, with Cassandra’s key,’ I said. Ana suddenly gave a laugh and I stared at her, startled. ‘I was thinking how incredible it is,’ she murmured, gesturing vaguely around us, ‘that all of this should have been created by a computermachine from the Beforetime. I laughed to think how often the Speci have told me to talk to God, never knowing you
could
.’ She shook her head then said in her usual quick, sharp way, ‘Just before you go, tell me again why God won’t release you. What did it say exactly?’

Well aware of her ability to think in unexpected ways, I said, ‘It regards me as a Speci man. I supposed that is a muddling together of human and Speci. And it says it can’t release any Speci men because it requires permission from a govamen. Which of course it can’t get because of the broken links and also because there is no govamen to give it permission.’

‘A govamen computermachine had great power and the capacity to link with many different computermachines at the same time and even to give them orders,’ Ana said knowledgeably. ‘Reul said only the greatest chieftains of the Beforetime lands had them. I don’t know why this Kelver Rhonin would have gone to try to make the computermachines in Quadrant Four link to a govamen computer because it could only happen the other way round.’

‘I think he was just trying to see if a link still existed,’ I said.

‘I think all of this is beside the point,’ Swallow said suddenly. ‘Hannah came here because of you, Elspeth, not because of Jacob. I mean, he was part of it, but I’m sure it was about getting Cassandra’s key to the Seeker. She would never put herself and the key in here without being sure you could get out.’

‘Perhaps God would tell you where the grave is, if you ask,’ Dragon said.

I kissed her briefly, telling her she was brilliant before hurrying away to shovel in a hasty meal under the frowning gaze of the few remaining diners. I ignored their approbation, my mind racing with ideas and possibilities the others had roused. It was so wonderful to be able to talk about my quest with other people, even if we were all trapped in Habitat like flies in a web. They had given me much to think about.

I woke the next morning to Tash shaking me.

‘I am so sorry to wake you again but you did not hear when I called you from outside. I was wondering if you would like to come now with me to the bathing hut? It is very early so we can go before any of the meal sittings.’

‘I . . . I went to the Hub last night . . . it was very late when I got back,’ I mumbled. What I wanted to do more than anything in the world was to lie down again and sleep away the exhaustion of the abortive night’s expedition, but I did not want to disappoint the Speci girl.

‘Wait,’ I said, and began casting about for my clothes.

‘I heard you cry out and I feared you were ill,’ Tash said.

‘I must have been dreaming,’ I said, though I did not recall any dream.

I held up the tunic and overtunic I had worn the previous day, wondering again where one got clean clothing, for it was covered in threads and dust. Tash suddenly flushed and said that she would wait outside. After she had gone I sat for some moments, blinking stupidly. I had to splash my face with cold water, but it was not till I had dressed and combed my hair that I felt properly awake.

Finding one sandal and hunting for the other, I thought back on the previous night with weary frustration.

After I had eaten, I had returned to the hut and tried to sleep, but it had been useless. I had been too impatient to return to God. Finally I gave up on sleep, dressed and made my way to the Hub, my mind roiling with questions. It had been a long pleasant walk in the cool night, and I would have enjoyed it but for the fact that my feet still hurt from the day before, and I was tired out from my work in the weaving hut.

The moon had shone very brightly, and when I had finally reached the Hub, the altar had been bathed in silvery white light. It had such an eerie beauty that I suddenly understood why the Speci thought that wish-prayers made at such a moment were more potent. I had been on the verge of asking questions when a woman came in. I had not even heard her approach, and before I could think how to act, another entered and then two together, and then a man. None of them had stayed long. They had merely looked around, hope turning to disappointment or resignation when they saw there was nothing in the Hub. Or they had approached the altar, lips moving as they quietly voiced whatever they desired or needed or longed for and then departed. Some stayed a little longer and no one seemed to take much notice of me or indeed of any of the other Speci. As soon as one person left, another entered the Hub; sometimes two or three people had been there at once.

It had been quite impossible to speak to God, unless I had done so with the Speci looking on, and that was not safe, given the questions I wanted to ask, let alone the fuss it would undoubtedly have caused, for I had been told quite clearly that people spoke to God, but God had only ever answered Naha.

I had lingered and I might have stayed on, waiting and hoping, but in the end, I had given up and returned to my hut to sleep. I had completely forgotten Tash’s invitation to bathe and it was the last thing I felt like doing. I knew I could apologise and put the girl off, and she would accept the rejection humbly – part of her was expecting it. But aside from desperately needing to bathe and wash my hair, I recognised the terrible loneliness of the Speci girl, and under that, her fear of what she was. And I felt helpless guilt at the knowledge that we meant to leave her behind in Habitat, a fellow Misfit. The very least I could do was to bathe with her, though even this might harm her, because after we left, she was sure to be seen to be dangerously tainted by her association with me and her friendship with Dragon.

Now I felt a flash of impatience, for one of the things I had wanted to find out the previous night was how the computermachine regarded Talents and those who used them. I had realised a computermachine would not care what questions I asked or speculate about
why
I asked them, so long as I did not reveal that I was asking about myself or a particular person. If only I could be sure it was safe to use my abilities, I could ensure Tash was safe in the wake of our departure, even ease her lot. Finding my other sandal, I sat down to fasten them on, wondering when I would have another chance to ask my questions. I had been wiser than I realised when I lingered in the Hub the last time I had been there, for I might not have such a chance to question God so freely again.

Tash had been sitting on the bench, but when I emerged she leapt up, her face eager and smiling in the violet flush of predawn. ‘I am glad we are going together,’ she said.

I said I was glad too, but I thought that under her brightness she looked strained and there was a hectic flush to her cheeks. Again I felt a wash of remorse at the thought of leaving her in Habitat. Was she less worthy of rescue than all of the Misfits I had rescued in the Land over the years, a cold inner voice demanded?

My quest must come before everything, I told myself, wishing I had slept early and wakened well before dawn, so that I could have gone to the Hub before the day began. Well, it was too late now. I might just as well bathe and offer Tash this little time of friendship. It was all I could give, but I would give it with my whole heart. I mustered a smile for her as we set off, and only then, saw the dark shadows under her eyes, shadows in them as well.

‘What is the matter?’ I asked her, before I could think better of it.

She looked taken aback and then a strange wild despair flashed in her eyes before she lowered her lids and swallowed hard, saying lightly, ‘I . . . I had a bad dream.’

I did not believe her, nor did I think she expected me to. The careful avoidance of asking too many questions was one of the evasions the Speci must employ as part of maintaining harmony. It was a warning, too, which I reluctantly heeded. So I plodded along beside her in silence, wishing I dared probe her. And perhaps I might have done. Certainly nothing God had said made me feel that it had any special interest in Misfits, yet the Tumen had made it clear that anomalies were of interest, and he – it – had called me an anomaly. It struck me then that it had been
Hannah
who had drawn up the Covenant, listing the requirements of a good Speci. She would not have seen a Misfit Talent as something that needed punishing. Indeed she would have been more like to wish to protect Misfits by finding a way to include their traits. But Covenant did not mention Misfits or Talents, not even in the words the Beforetimers had used for them. It was impossible to believe it was a simple oversight. In not mentioning it, Hannah had made it necessary for anyone with Misfit abilities to conceal them. Why would she do that, unless she knew there would be a dangerous consequence? The only thing that I could think of was that God’s programming included some special instructions about Misfits, which she had known about. That meant my guess and fear were correct, and God did have some instruction about Misfits that was to be feared.

Having reasoned myself away from revealing my Talent to Tash, I was more determined than ever to ask God about people with Talents, though it was possible that a Speci would not be given complete information about anything. I assumed I was supposed to go to the weaving house again after I had eaten, but in fact I had not been explicitly ordered to do so. Perhaps I could pretend to have misunderstood, and go to the Hub instead. There would be fewer people there at mid morning when most Speci would be at their tasks. If I had to, I could pretend to be feeling poorly again. I sighed, thinking of how my efforts to communicate in Habitat had been frustrated the entire time.

Tash glanced at me again and I realised I had been silent for too long. On impulse, I asked what her dream had been about. I knew it was frowned on to speak of dreams, but it was not forbidden in the Covenant and it might enable Tash to say something she did not dare to say outright.

I looked at her curiously when she did not respond at once, and saw that she was looking at me searchingly, longingly. I nodded to her as reassuringly and meaningfully as I could, suddenly certain that her empathy had allowed her to see through my simpleton persona from the first. Her lips parted and there was yearning in her eyes, but fear too, and the fear won, perhaps because we had reached the wall path.

‘I cannot speak of it,’ she said as we turned along the wall path, her voice thin, striving and failing to be casual. She looked at me, and to my astonishment, her eyes filled with tears but she had restraint enough not to let them fall.

‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘It was only a dream and everyone knows dreams are nonsense.’

She gave me another searching look that had so much yearning in it I stopped walking. She stopped too, and turned to me, puzzled. Heart pounding with the hope that I was not making a mistake that would doom us both, I reached out very deliberately and closed my fingers around her arm. Then, holding her gaze, I willed her to trust me, willed friendship and sympathy at her. I was not using my Talent, only feeling as intensely as I could, knowing that her empathy would take in my emotions.

She smiled uncertainly, clearly puzzled, and I realised it was nothing to her to take in my emotions – she did it all the time.

Frustrated, I pictured the black sword, hoping to so strengthen the emotions I was feeling that Tash would understand I was directing them at her. I was utterly astonished to see a bluish-green outline appear around the Speci girl, like the halo that sometimes circles the sun, or the moon.

Tash reacted dramatically, starting back and wrenching herself free of my light hold, her eyes widening in fear. Impulsively, instinctively, I laid my right hand over my heart and offered her my left as the Sadorians do, when greeting friends. I looked into her eyes, smiling, and gradually fear left her face, draining away like water from a basin and leaving her looking pale and astonished. She did not take my outstretched hand. Instead, she reached into the little pocket sewn into the side of her tunic and withdrew something.

She held it out to me on her open palm. It was a little memory seed exactly like the one that had been left for me in the computermachine by Cassy, but red and very old and battered. The colour had worn off here and there and two tiny wires were unravelling at one side. She was looking down at it with a strange mixture of terror and elation.

I reached out to take it and look at it more closely, but she shook her head frantically and closed her fingers around it. Then she put it into her pocket, all the while looking at me with beseeching eyes. I did not know what she wanted of me, nor how to safely ask. She bit her lip, and with a look of determined purpose mingled with fear, she took my arm to make me walk with her, or so I thought, for she continued along the path, drawing me with her. But then I felt her emotions reaching out to me.

Having felt mine being directed at her, she was trying to do the same!

I felt dizzy with excitement and joy, for I knew what this was. Had I not felt it a hundred times as Guildmistress of the Farseekers, undertaking a rescue? It was the moment in which a Misfit began to acknowledge what they were, and the intoxication of the dawning realisation that they were not alone. It also showed me how strong her Talent was, for utterly untrained and only half aware of what she was doing, she was emanating empathy. Most empaths began by being receptive to emotions and it took training to enable them to use their Talent actively.

Yet there was a tentativeness to her, as when a farseeker first tries to make contact with another farseeker. I felt a renewed surge of guilty sorrow, which I quickly stifled. I knew I was stirring up something that might ultimately endanger her, and yet to be a Misfit alone, never knowing what one was or if there were others, had been hell for me as a child. I could not deny Tash the chance to communicate openly with another Misfit. Whatever happened, she would know that there were others like her.

I was no empath, but continuing along the path, I opened myself to her as I had seldom done in my life. As maybe I could not have done before loving Rushton and opening my whole self to him.

As she matched my slow steps, I felt her empathy move inside me like a soft hand, feeling in the dark for something it knows or hopes is there. I do not know what she found, for I had striven not to close any part of myself. It was strange, but it had always been so hard for me to open myself to others, even to Rushton, whom I loved. Yet it was not hard with this gentle girl, perhaps in part because she could not read my thoughts, but also because I felt so strongly that Tash was as I had once been, only softer, less able to protect herself. I wanted her to know that I had no desire to harm her, that I genuinely liked her. She might feel my sadness and guilt but she would find no ill intent in me.

It struck me as we walked, hardly aware of our bodies moving along the path, not looking at one another but deeply meshed, that I had never in my life opened myself so willingly to another mind.

At last that delicate empathic tendril withdrew. I looked at Tash. She was gazing at me in wonderment and sorrow. She blinked, and this time tears did spill down her cheeks, shining in the pearly predawn light. She did not brush them away but only reached across to kiss me. I felt the drying trace of her tears and that soft kiss on my cheek as we walked on.