The Pearl Saga - Mistress of the Pearl Part 58

"Your mother and father," Asir said. "The question now remains, who are you?"

Kurgan hung by his ankles, suspended by an aged and grimy hempen rope from the groaning attic rafter in FIREFLY, trussed like a qwawd for the fire, bleeding dolefully from a hundred wounds. His mind, fled far from the trauma of his violent encounter with Lujon, was elsewhere.

He stood upon the pitching deck of Courion's s.h.i.+p watching the storm approach. The sky was low and dark, the smothered light beneath it livid. Waves rose, coiled, crashed down in an eerie silence. In the troughs it was like the blackness of a well, scuppers running full and frothy, seething like an army with its bloodl.u.s.t up. At the crests there existed a delicate balance, then the s.h.i.+p half heeled over with a curious lightness, an exhilaration not unlike that of a hoverpod as it hits an air pocket.

Courion, close behind him, hissed in his ear, "This is what it means to be Sarakkon. This is what it means to be alive." Down into another trough they plunged and, timbers groaning, up the other side, climbing the translucent wall of water which curled, on the brink of inundating them. "And what are you, V'ornn? Nothing. You are dead."

Kurgan was silent, without a ready answer to the truth. Save for his time with Annon Ashera he might have thought of himself as born dead. Without his friend-his blood enemy-he was nothing. In a mirror, he had no reflection. Without Annon there was no way to define himself, no way to know what it was he wanted. So much that he had desired, fought for, schemed, plotted, lied, cheated, killed for had been made his. To what end? He was being eaten alive by the rage of being subservient to Gyrgon, by the jealousy of knowing the only female he loved, ever could love, cared not for him but for dead Annon. If only time could be turned backward. If only it was three years ago, he and Annon hunting qwawd and gimnopedes in deep forest glades. That was a happy time! And then Eleana had entered their lives and ruined it all. Over her, their friends.h.i.+p fell apart; because of her, he had begun to hate Annon and, on the night of his father's coup, had betrayed him to the Khagggun who were searching for him, buying his way out from under the oppressive thumb of his father, into their good graces. Best friends, worst enemies.

Now all gone, washed away on the tide of b.l.o.o.d.y history.

Plink-plink.

What was that, the sound of a metronome?Insensate, he could not know it was the drip of his own blood pooling on the dusty floorboards below him.

His mind swept far away to the high seas, on Courion's yawing s.h.i.+p as a wave struck abeam, the Sarakkon crew working to bring the vessel back on course. And Courion hissing in his ear in a voice that sounded so much like his own, And what are you, V'ornn? Nothing. You are dead.

Mother. Father. My parents. A warmth flooded Riane's entire being. Her eyes were wet and stinging, and for once Annon was completely quiescent, taking a backseat to the roil of her deeply felt emotions.

Save for how he felt about Giyan, he had no experience with this sort of emotion. He had admired and loved his father, but no such overt emotion had ever pa.s.sed between them. It was not the V'ornn way.

And as for his mother, he did not even have a clear memory of her.

The enormity of the moment made her heart thunder, turned her knees weak. No longer to be adrift in a tide of unknowing. It was only in retrospect that she could appreciate what a terrible thing it was to be cut off from your own origins, to face the past and see only a mist, amorphous and impenetrable. But within her elation came the all-toofamiliar realization of who she really was. She was not the Riane who had gone climbing with her father, who had slipped or got caught in an avalanche and fell away from him, from her mother, from her life. Another Riane now stood there, flanked by parents who could not know unless she chose to tell them how radically she had been altered. How could they possibly understand how she had been invaded by a V'ornn-saved by Annon's V'ornnish strength when the duur fever threatened to snuff out her life? How could they possibly accept their child back now that she was part V'ornn herself? What if they rejected her? She had already seen how suspicious her father was. What would happen if she gave him just cause for his suspicions?

"Darling, what is it?" Amitra held her at arm's length, a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter?"

A quick flash of panic. "Nothing, I-" What if her parents were psychic? What if they could read her mind? Was it so outlandish to think that? They were unlike any Kundalan she had ever met. She had no idea of their powers. She realized grimly that she was every bit as suspicious as her father. Or was that simply Annon's thinking?

"Riane," Amitra said, "you told us that you had become a weapon against the V'ornn. Would you tell us more precisely what you mean?"

Still, she hesitated, doubts swirling. She looked at them. Mother. Father. The familial tidal pull was too great to ignore.

"I have become the Dar Sala-at."

"Dear Mima!" Amitra's hand clutched at her throat, and she almost staggered.

"Riane, we knew when you were born that you were destined for great things," Asir said. "And then when you found the fulkaan's eyrie, when it bonded with you-"

"But we dared not hope." Amitra took a step toward her. "Who are we to bear the Dar Sala-at?"

"Amitra, consider the particular logic of it," Asir said. "It was you who learned Venca virtually overnight, you whose memory was better even than mine." He kissed her on both cheeks.

"Now we must show you the rest of your home," Amitra said, her eyes s.h.i.+ning.

"With pleasure. But first there is something I must do." Riane recited Venca syllables, and reached through the mirror. Moved closer until both arms had sunk into the Other Side up to her elbows. She held her hands very still, concentrated on the current. Like one sightless she allowed her sense of touch to take over, felt the slight surge and suck of the null-s.p.a.ce current and began to pull on it. Solid as it was, it responded. Hand over hand, she pulled it slowly toward her. Presently something soft and furry brushed against her, and she grabbed it.

She pulled Thigpen out of the Other Side by her tail. Not a dignified reentry to be sure, but at least the Rappa was safe and sound.

She cradled Thigpen in her arms, held her close. To the others' credit, they said not a word. Thigpen'seyes opened, and she shuddered.

"Ah, little dumpling, what are you doing here with me in the Other Side? It was foolish to come after me."

"If I hadn't, you would still be lost in null-s.p.a.ce." Riane stroked the soft fur. "But we are no longer there. We are inside the Abbey-" She gave Asir an inquiring glance.

"The Abbey of Summit Window."

At the sound of the strange voice, Thigpen sat up, peered at the two older Kundalan over the crook of Riane's elbow.

"Thigpen, meet Asir and Amitra," Riane said. "They are my parents."

Thigpen, taking in their features, c.o.c.ked her head. "Your parents, at last. Yes, I see. Mysterious folk, hidden away here on the edge of the Forbidden Territories."

Riane reached down, plucked up Asir's long, silver skate blades.

"Careful now," he said, as the light skittered along the knife-sharp edges.

"Even with these," she said, "even with speed, your weight, not to mention our combined weight, should have put you-and us-through the ice crust." She put the skate blades down. "These shouldn't work, and yet they do."

He looked at her with an expression she knew well. It was the look of a teacher, waiting for her pupil's answer, following the test, about to find out whether they had pa.s.sed or failed.

"They must be ensorceled," she said.

"Well, that is a matter entirely of semantics."

Riane frowned. "I do not understand."

"This and other questions we will answer," Asir said. "But not here. Come." He stepped once again into the stirrups. "As I said, time is running out."

Riane signed to Thigpen, who leapt up onto her shoulders. Wrapping her arms tightly around Asir's waist as he directed, she pressed herself against his broad, muscular back. She inhaled the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg. She saw Amitra disappear. Asir told them that she was climbing into another set of stirrups on the far side of the column. He depressed the lever, and down they went, smoothly, soundlessly.

"I have seen this mechanism before," Riane said.

"Then you must have been exploring the cavern below the regent's palace." Amitra shook her head.

"A very dangerous place nowadays."

At the base of the column, they slowed to a halt and she climbed off. The deep thrumming magnified.

They were in a circular chamber filled with cascades of trees, flowering plants, small evergreens. The air was warm, humid, perfumed. Light slanted down from an unknown source. A liquid gurgling could be heard, then a small waterfall came into view.

Asir said, "The Druuge-the first Ramahan-were here once. They built the abbey, and then, later, with the great climatic upheavals, left. It lay abandoned for many years, waiting. And then we took it, made it our home." He regarded Riane. "This is where you were born and raised."

"You remember nothing of it?" Amitra said.

"I can read and write Venca, I am an expert mountain climber, and my lungs are strong, so I know I was brought up high in the Djenn Marre. But as to how I acquired those skills ..." She shook her head.

"Your memory-"

"I can remember everything, save my life before the fall. Now and again bits and pieces emerge. I remember you, Asir."

"But not as your father."

"I thought you might be my teacher, my mentor."

He smiled. "True enough."

He led them to the center of the trees, into a glade. But it was unlike any in a natural forest, for at its precise center was a gleaming metal hatch with what appeared to be a wheel on top. Asir put both hands on the wheel. His muscles corded as he spun it to his left. With an audible sigh, the hatch opened. The great thrumming became much louder and more distinct.They descended a vertical metal ladder into a s.p.a.ce so vast its bedrock walls were barely visible.

Standing upon a grated platform, they stopped and peered down at a gargantuan array of spotless thrumming machinery.

"Engines!" Thigpen exclaimed. She looked from Asir to Amitra and back again. "You are Tchakira."

"What? The undesirables, the insane, the outcasts? Impossible!"

Amitra smiled. "Tchakira are indeed believed to be the insane; we are the undesirables, the outcast.

But there are many more of us than is known by the Ramahan."

A wave of consternation pa.s.sed through Riane. "The Ramahan or the Abbey of Floating White bring food and clothing and medicines to the Tchakira, they leave them in the Ice Caves above Heavenly Rus.h.i.+ng, far from here. I myself did so two years ago. That was how I discovered you, Thigpen."

"And I thought it was the other way around!" Thigpen leapt to the floor, began to sniff her way around the couple.

"The perwillon must eat what you bring," Asir said. "We have been gone from that place for many years. We moved into the Forbidden Territories."

"The Forbidden Territories are uninhabitable," Riane exclaimed. "Khagggun expeditions have gone in, none have returned."

"They would have returned," Asir said, "had we wished it. The Forbidden Territories are our home, a secret we protect most fiercely."

Thigpen, who had been patiently quiet, could contain herself no longer. "But Tchakira?"

"Ah, yes, I see." Asir knelt beside the Rappa. "You think of us as the dregs of Kundala because that is the societal belief. Odd, coming from a species that has been used and, to a large extent, abused by the Ra-mahan."

Thigpen sat back on her double haunches, her long whiskers twitching in anxiety. "The very thing you bring up has made us overly suspicious. You are right. I am too quick to judge, inclined to think ill of everyone I meet," she said.

Asir smiled and rubbed his knuckles in the fur between Thigpen's ears. "The truth is that in the Time before the Becoming, Kundala had technology. Not, at that time, anywhere near that of the V'ornn. But we are great experimenters-we forged alloys, used electricity, powered turbines. Long ago, however, the Ramahan forced us out. Made Kundala revert and forget what had once been."

"What?" Riane shook her head. "Why?"

"They perceived us as a threat to their theocracy, and perhaps they were right, for science and religion are most often at odds with one another."

She was thinking with Annon's memory about the Gyrgon who maintained their power through new technology, the careful distribution of which they controlled. But for a difference of philosophy we could have exerted and maintained a similar stranglehold on Kundalan society. "So they ostracized you," she said.

Asir nodded. "We designed Za Hara-at. It was the daemons who built it. There was good purpose in it, but because of the banestones, because of the enormous power in the city, fear seeped into the Ramahan, and all who had been in any way attached to the construction were deemed tainted, made outcast."

Riane gripped the railing as she leaned over, looking straight down. "Where does your power come from?"

"The same source as your infinity-blade."

Riane took out her wand. "Goron particles?"

Asir nodded. "Null-s.p.a.ce-the fabric between layers of the multi-verse, what binds them together-is almost pure goron energy. We have learned how to harness it."

Riane was startled. "The V'ornn have a mortal enemy that has pursued them across the Cosmos, a species known as the Centophennni. They use gorons as devastating weapons."

"Our knowledge of gorons is far more limited," Asir said. "We have not yet learned how to make goron-based weapons."

Riane brandished the wand. "What do you call these?""We did not make them," Amitra said.

"Then who did?"

"We do not know," Amitra said.

"Tell me"-Asir gestured-"where did you get your infinity-blade?"

"It was given to me by Minnum, the Curator of the Museum of False Memory."

"Could this Curator tell you the origin of his exhibits?"

"He said he did not know where anything in the museum came from," Riane said.

"Pity." Asir nodded. "We have been searching for a clue to their origin ever since we discovered three of them at the bottom of the caldera of Oppamonifex, the largest volcano on the southern continent.

Unfortunately, our agents were set upon by Sarakkon. Two of the infinity-blades were lost there."

They ascended the alloy ladder, back to the soughing forest that seemed light-years from the throbbing machinery below.

Amitra put a hand on Riane's shoulder. "A great shadow lies over us all. You have felt it, have you not?"

Riane nodded, a lump in her throat.

Amitra gazed at her lovingly. "You see why we were hesitant, Riane? Our existence must remain an absolute secret until the time is right to strike back."

"Unfortunately," Asir said, "the sauromicians have forced our hand."

"They have achieved a major victory," Amitra said.

"Not yet. Not quite yet." Asir held up a finger. "It is true that they have found eight banestones, but they have yet to find the ninth. Where it is we have no idea." "But I do," Riane said.

They looked at her with shocked expressions and led her to a bench in a grove on the far side of the forest, where they sat in a group, Thigpen at Riane's right knee. There, she told them of her attempts to get the ninth banestone, first from Kurgan Stogggul, then from the Sarakkon named Lujon. "The Sarakkon have allied themselves with the sauromicians," she concluded. "But why or where Lujon is taking the ninth banestone I have no idea."

"Certain elements of the Sarakkon have long coveted control of the northern continent because they seek the mysteries hidden within Za Hara-at," Amitra said. "Plus, they harbor a grudge." She told them briefly of how in ancient times the Sarakkon had been defeated by the Ramahan and banished to the southern continent. "What will they do if the Cage is completed?" "They have caught one of Miina's Sacred Dragons," Amitra said. "They will use her to open all the Portals to the Abyss. The daemons will arise once more."

"Why do the sauromicians want to ally themselves with daemons?" "Because daemons built Za Hara-at," Asir said, "the sauromicians a.s.sume they are privy to its secrets."

Riane, having already battled one archdaemon, shuddered. "I didn't know a Dragon could be caught,"

she said, "let alone imprisoned."