Venus of Shadows (40 page)

"I thought you two were on my side. I don't want the settlers becoming demoralized, and they will if we keep stalling. They'll wonder why —"

"Oh, you'll get what you want." Hsin-sheng rubbed his chin. "Let me give you some advice, Sigurd — fatherly advice, if you will. Spend a few months getting this next phase under way, and then resign as Liaison. You can always say that you've been at the job long enough, and you'll still be an Administrator. Let someone else be the Liaison."

Sigurd lifted his brows. "And just why should I resign?"

"Mukhtar Ali isn't only recalling Guardians from Anwara. He's thinking of bringing some of the Project Council back as well. His reasoning is that if the Liaison is loyal, he shouldn't need quite so much direction from the Council."

"But that also helps me."

"Alliances among the Mukhtars are likely to shift again, and if they do, you won't be in a good position. Every year you spend at your current post gives you more power here, and if the Mukhtars decide to reclaim much of that authority, they may not be overly concerned with your fate. Bide your time, Sigurd. You're young — you can wait. Show them that you harbor no dreams of personal power by resigning soon. When the Mukhtars resolve their internal struggle, they may turn to you again."

Sigurd gazed steadily at Hsin-sheng. "I have to see this through. My position means nothing to me except as a way to serve the Project. Too many of my colleagues would be ready to sacrifice the Project's future, given the opportunity, if their own positions were assured. I won't let that happen. I can't allow myself to be replaced by someone who may not be willing to put the Project above all else. I might be needed even more now, if things are as uncertain as you imply."

"Don't think that Venus's future rests entirely with you," Hsin-sheng said fervently. "Don't confuse your own ambitions with the Project's goals to the point where you can no longer distinguish between the two. I'm old enough to remember Pavel Gvishiani's time — don't make his mistake and see yourself as the Project's only savior." The elderly man paused. "But I see you won't listen to me."

"It's in God's hands," Salim muttered as he rose. "We had better prepare for the meeting."

*  *  *

The airship had landed in its cradle. The cradle moved slowly through the lock and then into the bay of Island Two. Sigurd got up from his seat and absently exchanged a few pleasantries with the other passengers before moving toward the door.

He walked past the row of cradles and dirigibles to the entrance. For a few moments, during his journey aboard the shuttle from Anwara's high orbit, he had found himself toying with Hsin-sheng's suggestion that he resign. Weightlessness often induced such longings for freedom from his responsibilities, as if he could drift away from them as easily as he propelled himself along the aisle of the shuttle. His duty, along with Venus's gravity, captured him again at the Platform. He had looked into the faces of those he passed and convinced himself that they would not welcome his resignation.

I wouldn't welcome it myself, he thought as he followed a white tiled path past the slender trees just beyond the entrance. Freedom would be a void, and he had nothing with which to fill it.

He strode quickly, barely nodding at those who greeted him. He would have to meet with some of the Habbers first. His aides, and perhaps some of his fellow Administrators, would have told the Habbers about the meeting on Anwara by now. They would all be pleased by the results. Everything had turned out better than he had anticipated before leaving Island Two. It was odd that he did not feel more gratified.

He hastened on, then turned toward a path to his right. He might as well speak to a few of the Habbers now; it hardly mattered which people he talked to, since any one of them could speak for the others. It was one of the qualities Kichi Timsen particularly disliked, the ability of the Habbers to seem in complete accord with one another. That was ironic, since Ishtar's adherents dreamed of the time Cytherians would reach such a state themselves. But Ishtar was also convinced that the Habbers' equanimity hid evil intentions. Ishtar, after all, had the truth, while the Habbers seemed to question everything.

A woman was walking toward the Habbers' stone residence; Sigurd slowed to a stop. She turned, and he was gazing into Tesia's hazel eyes.

"Greetings, Administrator," she said in a flat voice.

"Salaam. I hadn't realized you were back. I didn't think you'd return so soon."

"Word of your recent meeting with the Project Council reached my home a short time ago. Those of us who thought we might be needed now decided to return. I was sorry to leave my home — being there brought me into balance again. But I'm also anxious to see the work I did here bear fruit, as your greenhouse gardeners would say." She seemed very stiff; her eyes refused to meet his.

"I'm pleased you did," he said, unsure whether he really meant it.

"I came here with some reluctance, Administrator. My people know you're showing more favor to Ishtar now, people who are so hostile to us."

"Your people were perturbed by that execution in Oberg," he said. "I had to see that it wouldn't happen again, so that you wouldn't be tempted to abandon the Project."

"Oh, I understand your reasoning. Earth mustn't see you making things too easy for us. We can work with you now, and Ishtar's patrols will see that no one becomes too friendly with us. I explained that to many of my friends, that you were a man capable of mimicking friendship and kindness in the service of the Project's goals and that you'd see that the cult did not impede our work."

He took a breath. "I'm sorry I said what I did to you. I know it was cruel to do it that way — you must have seen —"

Tesia seemed amused; her lips curved into a smile. "It accomplished your purpose. You showed your colleagues that we had no hold over you, and now we can get on with the work you postponed. You have no reason to be sorry."

She entered the building; the door closed behind her. He waited only a moment before he followed. The only freedom he had known was with her, before his sense of duty had put an end to it. He wanted to find that freedom again, have something for himself apart from the Project's demands. He wanted to touch one person without thoughts of how that person might become one of his tools.

He reached the door to her room before it could close and stood in the doorway as she stepped back. She would turn him away and taunt him with the words he had spoken to her. She would reproach him for not having the sensitivity to have said his farewells in private or to prepare her for their meeting. She would remind him that she was a Habber and that no true bond could ever exist between them; he had said so himself. Then she would turn away, indifferent to him, or find that she could take a bittersweet pleasure in his pain.

"Tesia," he said hoarsely.

Her arms opened. He stepped forward and embraced her.

THE GUIDE

Seventeen

"You're certain this is what you want," Malik said to Chimene. They were nearing the entrance to Island Two's airship bay; it seemed a little late for her father to be asking her that now.

"Yes," Chimene replied. "Anyway, I can always come back if I change my mind."

"In six months, you can," Malik reminded her, "so I hope you're sure now. You made the request, after all, and Risa will expect you to keep to your commitment."

"I
know
that." She hugged him; he handed Chimene her duffel. "I'll miss you."

"Well, it won't be that long, and Risa will be happy to have more time with you." Malik kissed her on the forehead. "Send me a message as soon as you can."

"I will."

She walked toward the bay, then turned to wave at Malik one last time before the door closed behind her. Cargo was being taken off one airship; passengers were ascending the ramp to another. "Go to the third airship on your right," a voice from the small screen near the door said as her wristband was scanned. "Departure for the Platform in ten minutes."

She hurried to the line of people and followed them into the airship. The two pilots, both in Ishtar's sash, were already seated by the controls under the large screen in front of the ship; the passengers began to settle themselves in the worn and stained seats. Chimene found a seat near the back, rummaged in her duffel for her pocket screen, then stowed the bag under her seat.

She was the only child aboard. She strapped herself in, then looked down at her screen, pretending to read.

"— Malik Haddad's daughter," a voice near her murmured.

"What a beautiful child. Gets her looks from him, I guess."

A blossom of Astarte — that was what her father called her in Arabic. She liked such compliments, even if Risa often told her that Chimene was not responsible for her appearance and could not consider it an accomplishment.

She stared at her screen. Usually, she did not mind talking with the other passengers, but she had a lot to think about during this trip. She had surprised her father by asking to spend all this time in Oberg, but she had convinced him that she wanted more time with her old friends and her mother's household. She had not told Malik that she was equally anxious to be away from him.

"Sigurd's favorite." She had heard one Linker whisper the words to another. "The Administrator's pet" was another term she had overheard. The Islanders who referred to her father that way seemed amused rather than contemptuous, but their words made her wince. Malik either did not know what some people called him or did not care.

She and Malik had come to Island Two five years ago, when Chimene was six. Her father had unexpectedly been offered a chance to trade places with a teacher there, news that came as a relief to her parents and the entire household.

The long months preceding that offer were not times she wanted to recall. Risa had decided not to run for the Council again, which only gave her more time at home to glower at Malik in silence or to snipe at him about some small lapse. Malik had finally moved to Bettina's wing of the house, where Nikolai made room for him.

The estrangement and the household's forced cheerfulness, as they pretended this was only a temporary problem, left Chimene with a gnawing guilt. She knew her father wanted to leave and was staying only because of her. She saw that Risa, once so sure and confident, was now so uncertain of herself that she could not make the simplest decision without consulting the rest of the household.

It was all her fault; Chimene could not escape the feeling. Her father would not leave without her, and Risa would never let her go. Clinging to Malik for comfort made her feel disloyal to her mother, while her efforts to cheer Risa seemed futile. She did not want to give them any reason to hate each other more because of her. She continued to hope that one day she would wake up, go to her mother's room, and find Malik there again, holding Risa's hand, their disputes forgotten.

The offer for Malik to go to Island Two came just in time. Nikolai and Emilia, affected by the household's uneasy mood, had been muttering about voiding their agreement in order to set up their own household elsewhere. Chimene did not even get a chance to worry about how much she would miss her father because she was invited to accompany him.

The Island Administrators, according to the message, were beginning a new program to promote better feeling between the settlements and the Islands. Some of the Islander children would trade places with children selected from each of the settlements. Promising students from among the dome-dwellers had studied at Island schools before, but this program was to involve much younger children; they would begin with a small number and see how things went.

It was, Chimene supposed, an honor to be chosen, and even Risa was unable to come up with any objections. Chimene could live with her father rather than an Islander family and would be gone only for a few months. So Risa had believed then, but in Chimene's case the months had turned into years, with Malik pointing out to her mother that Chimene would benefit from more contact with the Island specialists.

Once, Risa would have given Malik an argument about that, but Chimene soon saw that her parents' separation had, instead of driving them even further apart, brought them closer together. Their messages to each other, at first limited to uneasy talk about various events in their lives, grew warmer, and often they spoke directly over the screen. Whenever Chimene visited Oberg, as she always did during the periods when the children were given time off from school, Risa pestered her for more news about Malik; when she returned, Malik seemed eager to hear about Risa. It was enough to make her think that her parents might renew their bond, but it had lapsed, an occasion they both marked with carefully worded messages saying they would always feel linked through Chimene.

Maybe that was just as well, Chimene thought. Risa might not like to see what Malik was now. It was odd that living alone with her father had given Chimene a little more sympathy for her mother's former complaints — that Malik was impractical, that he wanted an easy life, that he felt no true devotion to the Project.

"We are departing from Island Two now," a voice announced from the front of the airship. "Make sure your harnesses are fastened, and do not move about the ship until we're aloft."

Chimene felt a wave of relief, and then a twinge. In the past she had been reluctant to visit Oberg; now she was looking forward to the journey. Malik would have been surprised if she had told him just how much she wanted to get away and what her reasons were.

Sef, she thought to herself; she loved to think of his name, turning it this way and that in her mind, caressing it with her voice as she whispered it to herself. Sef Talis. She had met him only a few months before, during her last visit to Oberg. She settled back in her seat, remembering, savoring the thought of him.

*  *  *

Risa had put in a request for a new immigrant, and the record of one young man had indicated that he might be useful around the house. Sef Talis had experience as a farmer, which would make him useful in the greenhouse, and he also had some of a mechanic's skills.