Venus of Shadows (27 page)

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Authors: Pamela Sargent

BOOK: Venus of Shadows
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"The Linker may say that," someone near Chen muttered, "but it's said he's grown closer to Habbers." Chen turned his head slightly; Kichi Timsen and her two companions were near him.

"To one Habber in particular," the second man replied to his friend.

The Guide shrugged. "Too many Islanders think that they can be close to Habbers and remain uncontaminated by their ways. Sigurd can be forgiven by some as long as he's useful. When he no longer is —" Kichi's voice trailed off; her eyes were cold as she stared toward the Administrator.

"Guardians have remained on the Islands," Sigurd was saying, "and yet we have long felt that any reason for their presence is past. Earth must preserve the peace, but we have peace here. We are Earth's children, but children can honor a parent freely without being compelled to obedience. We have pointed this out to Earth on several occasions, and the Mukhtars have listened."

Everyone was very quiet now; even the small children a few paces in front of Chen had stopped fidgeting. "You will be pleased to know," Sigurd said, "that within a week's time the Guardian force will leave the Islands. A few will remain on Anwara, and the others will return with their Commander to Earth. This is a sign of Earth's trust and faith in us. God grant that this trust is never abused."

The crowd began to cheer. Chen was silent, wondering what this announcement meant. Did Sigurd have enough influence over the Project Council and its colleagues on Earth to bring this about? Chen doubted that, even though the Administrator had implied that he did. Earth would not be removing the Guardians only because Sigurd thought it wise; the Mukhtars surely had other reasons for this withdrawal. Chen disliked the Guardian presence as much as anyone, but knowing that the force was on the Islands had kept the settlers subdued. They might now grow more impatient with Sigurd and with those Islanders who had to balance the Cytherians' interests against Earth's. Risa would be on Oberg's Council; he suddenly feared for his daughter.

Kichi Timsen was smiling as the crowd continued to cheer. The pilots had resented the presence of Guardians on the Platform most of all, and many pilots were members of Ishtar. The Guide seemed pleased by the news.

Sigurd lifted his arms, silencing the crowd. "Fellow Cytherians!" he called out. "It is fitting that on this day, when we gather to remember Pavel Gvishiani, we look forward to a future in which we can demonstrate our loyalty to Earth freely as we pursue our destiny here. God be praised!"

"God be praised!" the crowd echoed.

Sigurd moved down the hill and stopped in front of Risa. He spoke with her for a few moments before he greeted another Council member. Chen shook off his darker thoughts. Iris would have greeted this news with joy, been proud of her daughter's new prominence, and chided him for his worries.

He waited until the crowd began to disperse, then made his way home alone.

*  *  *

"I wonder what it means," Bettina was saying. "I used to think Sigurd was too young to hold his position, but he's raised himself in my estimation. If he could make the Project Council see reason on this point —"

"He probably didn't convince them of anything," Paul interrupted. "Earth will save an expense, and there'll still be some Guardians on Anwara. Sigurd was only trying to make himself look good with that little speech."

"It doesn't matter," Grazie murmured. "It means we'll be a little freer than we were, without those wretched Guardians and having to worry that they'd be sent to our settlements. It's too bad the Administrator couldn't have said so outright instead of speaking of how loyal we'll be to Earth."

Malik picked at his food. Most of the talk at supper had been of Sigurd and the Guardians; Pavel had hardly been mentioned. He looked across the table at Risa. Her eyelids were lowered, and her food remained untouched; she alone seemed to be sorrowing for the dead man.

Chen rose and excused himself. The events of the day had clearly tired him, and Malik knew Risa's father had few reasons to mourn Pavel.

"That was something," Nikolai said, "having the Administrator come over to us afterward to greet us — well, to greet Risa anyway."

"Risa's consulted with Sigurd before," Grazie said, "over the screen. He does think something of her."

"Maybe something of Malik, too." Nikolai lifted his brows.

The Administrator had made Malik uneasy. Sigurd's gray eyes had been studying him during the brief encounter; he had seen the man glance from him to Risa speculatively. The Linker had murmured a few words about a paper of Malik's he had recently read while hinting that he might enjoy future discussions with him. He had succeeded only in reminding Malik that the two men were no longer equals.

"You haven't said anything about Sigurd's speech," Bettina said as she gazed at Malik. "You know more about what goes on among the Mukhtars than we do — maybe you have some ideas."

"I can't shed very much light on this topic. When I went to the camp, I knew that various Guardian Commanders were trying to gain more influence over the deliberations of the Council of Mukhtars. I have no way of knowing which faction in that struggle was responsible for recalling the Guardian force here, and no way of finding out. The one message I've had from my family was confined to family news, and it wouldn't be prudent of me to ask if they know more about the current situation."

"Then I might be right," Paul said. "Sigurd probably didn't have much to do with the decision."

"What about you?" Nikolai leaned toward Malik. "It might mean better things for you if your family gets stronger again."

"Little would change for me even if that were the case. My life is here now — that choice was made when I came here. At most, my family might erase the record of my disgrace, but that would be only in the interests of their own reputation. You should hope that whatever struggle's taking place now goes on for a long time, Kolya. That would keep Earth distracted from Venus's affairs."

Malik stood up. "Excuse me," he went on. "I should prepare a discussion for my pupils. With today's events fresh in their minds, it might be appropriate for them to spend some of their free time tomorrow learning more about the Project's history."

Paul set down his cup. "That's something we all know."

"Then my young students must be the exception," Malik replied, "since they seem to know only family stories or exaggerated and misleading tales of individual exploits, along with a few vaguely defined and poorly thought-out ideals." He was revealing too much of his sour mood. "Good night."

He went to Risa's room. He had moved his belongings there the day after her last visit to Pavel. She had explained that they did not need separate rooms now that they were planning to have a child, and since Nikolai was to remain in the household, it was time the Russian moved out of Bettina's examination room. Her request had been reasonable; he could find no objections.

The door closed behind him; he felt trapped. Why had he ever agreed to this? He knew that Risa's feelings for him had deepened, but he had been unprepared for the desperation in her voice. She had given him a way to avoid any real ties; only wounded pride and a half-formed hope that he could grow to love her more had led him to promise a pledge. He was still drawn to her, but the novelty of making love to her and the challenge of surprising her comparatively inexperienced body with his caresses would soon pall.

He had convinced himself that he could find contentment in what he had and know some peace; Administrator Sigurd's speech had changed everything. Guardians would be leaving the Islands, and a few Islanders had fled to the Habbers before. There was a chance, a small one, that he could escape; all it would take was one or two disaffected pilots whom he could trust and the time to make some plans. He could forget the Earth that had disgraced him and the new world that imprisoned him inside a domed settlement. He could free himself from being only a pawn in the game played by the more powerful. How could he happily bind himself to Risa now, with such a possibility, however improbable, tantalizing him?

Bitterness welled up inside him. He thought of the children he taught. Basic skills would be enough for most of them; he was little more than someone who guided them through their lessons. His talk of literature and history was only a momentary diversion for them, his assigned readings only exercises. Even if he found a student who had the makings of a scholar, the demands of life here would eventually force the child to put aside such an ambition. The specialists here and the settlers who arrived from the Cytherian Institute were learned in their way, but they could never replace the community of scholars he had left behind.

He sat down on a cushion in the corner and leaned against the wall. He heard voices outside; Risa was saying good night to Nikolai. The door opened and she walked toward him. Her head drooped; her face was drawn. She sank to the floor and reached for his hand. Knowing that he did not truly love her, and that he would hurt her deeply if he ever admitted it aloud, made him feel a sudden tenderness for her.

He said, "I'm sorry about Pavel."

"He didn't want me to mourn." She lifted her head. "At least you had a chance to meet Sigurd. I didn't know he'd read something of yours."

"It surprised me, too. The piece was a somewhat specialized one on how a scholar during the New Islamic Nomarchy's earliest days reconciled certain points in Islamic law with the socialist ideology that was prevalent in Central Asia even after those lands were no longer under Russian control." Risa's eyes widened as he spoke; she was trying to seem interested, although he suspected much of his talk mystified or bored her. "On the other hand, the essay might have been of interest to the Administrator, since he's trying to reconcile Cytherian hopes with Earth's desires."

"I've been meaning to speak to him about you," she said, "and now I have a bit of an excuse. If he's curious about your work, then others might be also. Maybe he could arrange some lectures or seminars for you on the Islands when your students have time off from school to learn other skills. Some of the Islanders would probably enjoy that sort of meeting, and you could earn some extra credit."

"Provided, of course, that I avoid problematic or ambiguous speculations."

"You'd have a chance to meet a few of the other Administrators. You probably miss that kind of thing."

He was moved by her concern. Even now, with her other worries and sorrows, she was thinking of him. But the gesture irritated him as well, making him feel even more obligated to her.

"Sigurd's close to a Habber woman," Risa murmured. "I'm sure I don't know what he sees in her, but maybe she'll want to meet you, too."

"We can think of this another time." He suddenly wanted to change the subject, afraid she might glimpse his hidden hopes. He smoothed her dark hair back from her face. "You're getting too thin, Risa." Her small, round body was leaner, her face more angular; the more sharply defined bones made her seem both more beautiful and more fragile.

"I'll get fatter when I'm pregnant. I'll have Tina scan me again in a couple of weeks. I might be pregnant already." She lowered her eyes. "Maybe you've had second thoughts. Some people do after their implants are removed."

"Well, I haven't." His throat felt tight.

"We haven't even talked of how long we'll be bondmates. A lot of people ask for twenty years because they think their children are better off with a longer commitment between parents, but I wouldn't ask for more than ten — we can always renew it after that. I'd rather have our child seeing us choose whether or not to continue a bond instead of being bound by a pledge made years ago."

His lungs felt constricted as he took a breath. He had been hoping she might want only a few years. "Ten years, then, if that's your desire."

"I love you, Malik," she said, "but there's a part of you I can't touch, that I don't know how to reach. I wish I could feel —"

He pressed his lips against hers, silencing her, then pulled her toward the cushion, wanting to lose his doubts in her embrace.

 

 

 

THE COUNCILOR

 

 

 

Twelve

 

The celebrations marking the beginning of the year 600 had passed two weeks earlier. As Sigurd strolled in the direction of the Administrators' ziggurat, he wondered what this new century of the Nomarchies would bring. More demands from the dome-dwellers, he supposed, and more uncertainty about the resolve of the Mukhtars. During the five years since the Guardians had left his Islands, there had been no changes on the Council of Mukhtars, no news of any shift in alliances or of any Mukhtars losing their posts to be replaced by those more sympathetic — or more hostile — to the Guardian Commanders. The representatives of the Project Council who were stationed on Anwara were content to leave most decisions to Sigurd. That, of course, was to be expected. The Project Council would wait to see which faction grew stronger before acting more directly in Venus's affairs; they had to consider their own positions.

And I, Sigurd thought, have to retain the loyalty of those here while giving no one on Earth cause to doubt my intentions. He did not intend to be pushed aside by whichever faction triumphed.

Alim ibn-Sharif hurried around a bend in the path. The chubby Administrator nodded at Sigurd, muttered a greeting, and then hastened away as if intent on urgent business. Sigurd frowned a little; his colleague Alim might pose a more immediate problem than any Mukhtars. He had taken to chiding Sigurd in a fatherly way about his attachment to Tesia, pointing out that, in the absence of any clear directives from Earth, it would scarcely do for Sigurd to seem friendlier to Habbers in the interim. At the same time, Alim was also cultivating Kichi Timsen and occasionally spoke to Ishtar's Guide over the screen, even though her cult was as hostile to Earth's overt influence as to Habbers. Alim surely harbored ambitions of his own. The man might have given more thought to what was in the Project's interest rather than to what might further his own hopes.

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