The Silent Tempest: Rite Of Exile Part 2

"Well, I skipped breakfast, and it's a much better view from the dam. We'll bring enough for lunch-unless of course you'd rather stay here for the rest of the day-alone!"

His cheeks colored a little. "Hardly. Don't worry, I'll manage."

"Manage what?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She rose and walked to the east window. "A beautiful day for it, too."

"I suppose another bite or two wouldn't hurt," Caleb Stenger said, and gave his son a friendly punch on the shoulder. "This bag of energy is always hungry."

"I noticed. Wait here, I'll get something from the kitchen. We'll sit on top of the dam and talk about anything you like-except lessons!"

Telai pa.s.sed quite close as she walked to the door, and Caleb swore he caught a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. He lost himself for a moment in the lingering fragrance of her hair. More than once during the lessons he had caught himself in a similar trance, mesmerized by her beauty. But an inevitable guilt always followed these impulses, an ache that stretched across uncounted pa.r.s.ecs of s.p.a.ce.

She returned, cradling a basket filled with fruit, cheese, freshly baked rolls, and a small skin of wine. Caleb offered to carry the wine, and Telai led her guests down the stairs and out the doors to the main thoroughfare. Paved with close-fitting flagstones, it ran south from the palace along a tree-shaded park by the lake. Several people pa.s.sed by, some on foot, others driving a horse-drawn cart or carriage, but none gave the strangers more notice than a friendly greeting or curious glance. Along with his son, Caleb had long since changed into native attire, and with beards even rarer than dark hair among the Adaiani, he was careful to shave each day.

Telai grasped Warren's hand as they crossed the street. Caleb smiled, but a bittersweet longing took hold. He wondered if he would ever know a day when no sight or sound or smell flooded him with memories.

Entering the park, they followed a well-groomed footpath through the trees until it ended at the lake. Several round boats like coracles floated against a small wooden pier, each with one long scull attached. There was just enough room in one for the three of them. They boarded the nearest, Telai entering last after she handed the basket to Caleb. She unfastened the painter, and with oar in hand deftly propelled the boat out across the lake.

A fine breeze blew up the valley. Warren was all sunshine and smiles, dangling his arm over the edge to trace bright rivulets with his fingers. His father seized the gunwale like death. On a horse, in s.p.a.ce, on a precipice he was at home, but this little ungainly craft rode too low for his liking.

He glanced left and right, then back at Telai. She smiled. "Nothing to worry about, Caleb Stenger. This is the Tarn of Ekendore, and the water's nearly always calm. I was the envy of my friends when we held races here during my apprenticeship at Gerentesk. We name this craft the rellete, from the ancient Urmanayan speech," she added with an air of importance.

Caleb blinked in the scintillating glare of reflected sunshine. "What does it mean?"

She shrugged. "Round boat."

He only nodded, in no mood for jokes. After a moment he stared back again, hoping to slow his navigator with a bolder look. It was one look too many.

A glint of battle rose in her eyes. She crouched down, seized the oar with both hands, and began churning the water behind the boat. Her boast about racing was not an empty one. The craft accelerated, foam boiling at the bow. Warren laughed with delight, then shouted when a brief gust of wind lifted a fine spray over his head.

Caleb's knuckles turned white. "This isn't funny, Telai!"

She grinned devilishly. Caleb fumed but kept his peace, holding on tight until they neared the dam.

Telai let the rellete drift to a stop. On the inner side of the dam lay a wide shelf of masonry, and when the craft b.u.mped she tied it to an iron ring, one of many recessed in the stone. Basket in hand, Telai stepped out and climbed the few short ledges to the top, where she paused to enjoy the view.

Caleb stepped onto the ledge, careful not to drop the wineskin. Warren rose to follow, but stopped when his father turned and pointed back into the boat.

"Grab that little bucket," he whispered.

A wooden hand bailer sat wedged beneath the seat. Warren wrested it out, and Caleb bent close to murmur a few words in his ear. The boy's eyes popped wide. Then he nodded, smiling.

Caleb hurried up the ledges to join Telai. "Nice view!"

"I try to get out here when I can; it's so relaxing," she said. "This is Sonien. Everything from here to Krengline, the Old Wall, is part of Ekendore. Krengline was built about four hundred years ago, but it looks much older, because-"

A splash and a breathless gasp ended her lecture in an instant. Water spilled over her shoulders, and cascaded down her back and legs. The basket of food dropped to the stone, and Caleb, grinning, bent down to keep the fruit and biscuits from rolling away.

Telai spun in place at an impish giggle at her back. Warren's smile vanished. He yelled and launched into a hasty retreat, while the wooden evidence of his crime rocked back and forth in the spreading pool of water at her feet.

She turned back to Caleb again. "I suppose you think that's funny!"

"We have a saying on Earth," he said calmly. "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

A dangerous smile appeared. "Is that so?"

She stepped closer. In the bright morning sun and in full view of the city, the Grand Loremaster of Ada began unb.u.t.toning her blouse.

"What the-!"

Caleb snapped his mouth shut and turned away, unwilling to gamble whether she wore a bra. His eyes answered to a different will, however, and glimpsed Telai's lean arms swinging wide to remove her shirt. Then he shut them fast. The cream-white camisole she wore was soaked, and left little to the imagination.

Presently he heard the twist of wet cloth near his head. Ice-cold water dribbled over his shoulder, and smacked against the stone and across his shoes. She snapped her blouse a few times, spraying water in his face, and dressed. He gave her plenty of time to b.u.t.ton things up before he dared look at her again.

She patted him on the cheek, then took both the basket and skin of wine hanging limp from his hands. "I trust you're still hungry enough for lunch," she said sweetly.

Caleb followed as she searched for a good spot along the dam. The forward edge of Sonien sloped to the valley, and they sat and dangled their legs like children atop the wall of an old-fashioned schoolyard. Warren approached cautiously, searching his victim's expression.

Telai showed no trace of resentment, however, and foraged through the basket as if hunting treasure. Caleb watched, his chagrin slowly turning to admiration. When she calmly offered him a slice of cheese, he smiled with delight and surveyed the sights of Ekendore.

He could just hear the river Quayen far to their left as it rushed down the long, terraced channel of Sonien. From there it meandered through the northern side of the valley, dwindling into the haze, until it escaped through a conduit in the Old Wall seven miles away. Hendra rose to the left, a cloud-crowned and snow-mantled bastion of stone dwarfing all mortal achievements, oblivious to friend or foe or even storm.

Caleb looked at his son. Warren was chewing on a biscuit, kicking his feet against the stone, all this grandeur just one more day of adventure. Telai watched the boy for a moment, then turned a thoughtful smile toward his father.

A fit of bashfulness descended, and Caleb shifted his attention to the city behind. "Didn't you say the Hodyn lived here once?"

"They called it Dorgonan back then," she answered. "They've never been very friendly to us, but the loss of their main city sealed their hatred. It's gotten to the point where any Hodyn who speaks the name Ekendore ends up swinging from a gibbet." Her brow furrowed, and she added, "I thought you said you were tired of lessons."

Caleb laughed. "Lessons, yes. But I love going places I've never been before, and meeting new people." He glanced at her, wondering if he should say what he really meant; then another burst of guilt destroyed the fantasy, and he shrugged. "Hopefully that won't be a problem."

"Well, tomorrow you'll meet more people than you probably care to."

Though he knew it was only a jest, he sighed. "Now you've done it."

She smiled again and tossed him an apple, its skin wrinkled a little by winter storage. "Stop worrying! You'll do fine."

Caleb's apprehension faded in a burst of pride. Even after all those years with Karla, it still amazed him how a woman's smile-or rather, the absence of one-held so much power over him.

He studied the apple in his hand, noticing the faint variations in shape and color that set it apart from the familiar cultivars of Earth. "You call this a relmandya?" he asked, and she nodded. "Everything I've seen here is almost exactly like we had back home-fruit, animals-even the people!" He scratched his head as if to eke the answer out of his brain. I was told that's impossible."

"How else would it be?"

He wondered if colonizers had terraformed the planet; there was no telling how long he and Warren had slept through the stars, perhaps since before Ada's earliest cultural memories. Yet even the most thorough effort would have left greater discrepancies than a slight difference in apples.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I'm just glad it turned out that way."

A shout turned their heads. A man was running south along the crest of the dam directly towards them.

"Yote!" she cried.

The runner stopped. He was a young, fair-haired fellow with broad shoulders, his pleasant features flushed with exertion. "A message from the Overseer, my lady," he blurted between gulps of air. "Caleb Stenger is to be escorted to Wsaytchen at once. He's to be Judged within the hour."

Telai blinked in the sunshine. "Now? Why?"

"I don't know. But she made herself quite clear."

Caleb sat numb. The event he had antic.i.p.ated for so long now felt like a rock in his stomach.

"So typical of her," Telai muttered, and glanced at her student as if to weigh his readiness. "Rest here, Yote. Then take the rellete and return the basket to the kitchen at the inn. I'll walk Caleb Stenger to Wsaytchen." Yote lowered himself to the stone.

She stood, glanced down at her wet clothes, and shrugged. "There's no reason to postpone this, anyway, not even for a day. The sooner you're accepted into Adan society, the better."

Caleb took a deep breath and rose beside her, feeling much less confident about the outcome. But she was right: he would have tormented himself half the night, only to arrive at the Judgment weary from lack of sleep.

Warren grasped his hand. "Let's go, son-this is it," the Falling Man murmured in English.

4.

Judgment in Wsaytchen Secrets foul the soul.

- from Besir Orand'itee THE VISION OF the fair-haired Telai among the vibrant blossoms and slender birches of Wsaytchen's gardens almost erased Caleb's foreboding. He wanted to stop, forget the Judgment, and lose himself in her company.

The paved walkway ended at a set of shallow marble steps leading to a tall portico at least forty feet across. The main tower of the palace rose high above; its stained gla.s.s windows gleamed so bright in the late morning sun that Caleb could barely look at them. Crossing the portico, they came to a pair of ma.s.sive, ornate doors nearly twice his height, each illuminated by silver mirrors embedded deep in the surrounding columns.

His hand drifted instinctively towards the small bulk of his laser pistol hidden in the pocket of his trousers. Then he silently chastised himself for his paranoia. In all his time here, he had never seen any sign of advanced technology. Yet he knew it was foolish to underestimate these people. Besides, Ada was his home now. A demonstration of his superior weaponry, for whatever reason, would remove all hope of a normal life.

Telai grasped a slender cord hanging to the right of the doors. "Are you ready?"

Caleb faced the entrance, his hand still wrapped around Warren's. "For the Overseer and her Council? As ready as I'll ever be."

She flicked a smile. "Though you should choose your words carefully, honesty will serve you better than clever answers. My mother can be willful at times, but she's never unfair."

He blinked at her. "Who?"

"Why, the Overseer, of course." She froze for an instant, then let her arm fall to her side. "Great Hendra!-I forgot to tell you."

Caleb's gut tightened. "The Overseer is your mother?"

Telai nodded quickly, cheeks reddening. She glanced at the doors, chewing her lower lip. "I'm not allowed inside the council chamber. But Warren can wait outside with me, if you like."

"But Telai-he needs to become a citizen, too!"

"Don't worry. Children under thirteen aren't required to be present during the Judgment. It's the adults they want answers from. Technically I don't have the authority to grant this, but I've never known the Council to deny it."

Caleb breathed deeply, readily accepting her plea for absolution. "Thank you. Now open the door before I lose my nerve altogether."

Telai tugged on the cord, and three deep tones sounded from high above. Caleb looked up, expecting a silver bell or some such treasure, but the cord disappeared into a small opening in the roof.

The heavy doors swung inward to reveal a pair of elderly attendants, a man and a woman, their meticulous clothing reflected in the dark sheen of a marble floor. "No need for your services today, door wardens," Telai said. "I'll accompany Caleb Stenger to the Judgment chamber."

"I'm sorry, my lady," said the woman, her deep blue eyes traveling up and down Telai's damp clothing. "That' s not permitted."

"Derre, I won't enter the chamber. I'll just wait in the pa.s.sage outside. It's been allowed now and then for the rare supplicant-and if this man doesn't qualify, who does?"

The woman considered this, then bowed curtly and stepped aside. Telai led Caleb and Warren through the short but wide foyer; the doors closed with a traveling echo, and Caleb felt as if his escape had been cut off. He tried to convince himself that his welcome was already established, the Judgment a mere formality.

They crossed the floor of the main tower. Long, triangular segments of marble converged at its center like the spokes of a wheel, each bordered in silver and inlaid with a rune made from a sparkling array of red gemstones. Dust-speckled, colorful beams of light shone through the stained gla.s.s windows. At the center of all this opulence stood the granite likeness of an old woman. Dressed in a loose robe or long smock, she wielded a real-life sword toward the entrance as if guarding the palace, while her other hand clasped a tightly wound scroll trimmed in gold.

Warren kept goggling at the ceiling. Caleb followed his stare, and despite his ease with heights his steps wavered in sudden vertigo. Painted historical or mythological events traveled from a marbled wainscoting all the way to the zenith, the details of the highest nearly lost to sight. Archways trimmed with alabaster and obsidian led to smaller towers, while the highest arch of all rose directly before them.

Caleb stopped. "Michelangelo."

Telai's brow creased as she turned to face him. "What?"

"Not what, who. He was a great artist on Earth, centuries before I was born. He did something similar, paintings on a ceiling which told stories, or depicted important events."

"Here, too," she answered, and stepped closer to point out one of the larger murals. "That one honors the victory of Aen'Agrin, where the Hodyn were finally driven out of central Ada." At first Caleb only saw a confusing melee of soldiers, swords, and flying arrows. Then he spotted a lone mountain in the background uncannily similar to the one he had seen from his ship. "To the right," she continued, directing his gaze, "is Aen'Tedrel, the Battle of Blood Valley, the only major conflict we ever lost."

"The only one? Seems an odd choice for a place of honor."

Telai shot him a quick stare. "Depends on your definition of honor. Garged, the Overseer who first occupied Wsaytchen nearly four hundred years ago, insisted on it." She pointed. "Notice the inscription along the bottom? It reads: The only sacrifice in vain is a sacrifice forgotten."

Caleb's shame rendered him speechless for a moment. He glanced back at the statue. "I a.s.sume that's her?"

"No. That's Etrenga, the very first Overseer, long before Gargaed was born." A trace of doubt lingered in her eyes. "Come. There's something I think you should see before you meet the Council."

Their footfalls echoed as they pa.s.sed through the largest arch, and into a less lofty but more s.p.a.cious hall. Two rows of polished marble columns marched away on either side, while a collection of ma.s.sive sculptures occupied the wide s.p.a.ce between, all illuminated by a set of louvered windows near the ceiling. A team of steel-gray horses reared above, larger than life, their manes like wind-swept flames and their eyes wild with the fever of battle. Behind stood an old, austere man in a great chariot, his hands gripping the reins with sinews of stone. Caleb could almost hear the thunder of his pa.s.sing.

Other stately figures of heroes or philosophers loomed between the columns, but the image of a giant bird dominated the far end of the hall. It was no eagle or hawk but a lesser bird, perhaps a sparrow or a thrush. Its wings spread wide over their heads; a long arrow like a giant spear ran through its breast, and the creature gaped its beak in the last of its throes. Beneath its circular pedestal, fine rays etched in the marble floor and inlaid with silver radiated like a sunburst to the farthest parts of the hall.

Caleb stood awed by the sight. "An important symbol, I imagine."

"We stand in the Hall of Memories, and this is La'hegre, the Adan Symbol of Sacrifice," Telai answered. "It honors Grondolos and many others like him. But what I really wanted you to see is this."

Telai crouched by the pedestaled base. Engraved lettering circled the stone, each word separated by a tiny feather, and she ran her fingers across them, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Urman ... Grondolos ... Etrenga ... Teneda ... each name is a tale of sacrifice." Then her hand stopped.