Empire of Bones Page 25

  “I’m trying to help you, for God’s sake,” she said aloud. Then, belatedly, she realized he had understood what she’d said.

  “Sirru? Do you know what I’m saying to you?”

  Sirru did not reply. Rajira Jahan’s tousled head appeared around the edge of the door.

  “What are you doing out there?”

  Jaya extended a hand to the courtesan, helping her through the doorway. Rajira’s face glistened with sweat and she looked plumper and older; Jaya figured she must have deactivated the nanomask.

  “What are we going to do now?” Rajira asked, coming to sit heavily on the bench.

  “We head on, upriver. I have to find someone. Someone with transport. They should be waiting for us. Then we go north, to the mountains.”

  Rajira said disconsolately, “And what are we going to do after?”

  “We’ll let ‘after’ take care of itself,” Jaya said, unwilling to tell Rajira more than she had to. She had not given up the notion that the woman might be a spy. She added, “Don’t worry: I’m good at making plans.”

  Rather to her surprise, the courtesan smiled. “I know. I saw a bit of that movie they’re bringing out. There was a clip on the TV the other night. Very thrilling.”

  “That isn’t me, you know,” Jaya said, annoyed all over again.

  Rajira grimaced, then glanced at her curiously. “Was it really like that? Did all those things really happen to you?”

  “Yes, they did, and no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t glamorous or exciting. It was just—we did what we did, that’s all. We did what we thought we had to do.”

  “You know, my people are outcasts too,” Rajira said after a pause. “And I believe some things will never change.” She spoke with calm assurance, as if the world were set in stone. “I had a lover who was of a higher caste—besides my clients, I mean. It didn’t work out. I believe now that such things are karma. I believe in the laws of the world. But I admire you for trying.”

  “Thank you,” Jaya said, with sudden embarrassment. There seemed little else to say. Spice and smoke drifted out across the water. The barge veered north, taking them past the city.

  26.

  Khokandra Palace, Uttar Pradesh

  Kharishma sat sulkily at the edge of the veranda, staring out across the gardens. Tokai watched her for a moment, smiling, then turned to Amir Anand.

  “Prince, you have excelled yourself.” He bowed. Anand tried, unsuccessfully, not to look smug. “Where is the alien now?”

  “Waiting to see you.”

  “Take me to her.”

  It had been a very long time since Naran Tokai had experienced excitement. Usually, his emotions ran a subtle gauntlet from satisfaction to displeasure, but now he found that he was actually intrigued at the thought of meeting this Ir Yth. Who would have thought that incompetent Anand and mad Kharishma would between them have managed to snare such a prize? He followed Anand up into the decaying, airy heights of the palace. The alien was standing by the windows, her stocky figure draped in a pale and intricate sequence of folds.

  “Madam?” Tokai murmured. The alien turned. Tokai raised his head fractionally, taking note of the smooth ivory carapace, the round eyes and fleshy convoluted mouth. The cane transmitted a complex series of emotions and impressions that were emanating from Ir Yth. Some were familiar, some so strange that Tokai could not place them in any kind of context.

  You are a Sequencer?

  “Pardon me?”

  One who is an expert on pharmaceuticals.

  “Yes, that is correct. I am Naran Tokai.”

  Anand has told me a great deal about your valuable work. Then, turning, the alien directed an expression at Anand that might almost have resembled a simper, but her seeming gratitude was belied by the weird impressions coming to Tokai through the cane. It was the first indication he’d had that Ir Yth’s words, heard inside the head, had little relationship to what she was actually feeling. There was no sign that Anand had detected anything amiss. It had to be the cane, Tokai reasoned.

  Tokai said smoothly, “The work that we do here must seem very primitive to you.”

  Primitive, yes, but not without interest. You make medicines, is that not so?

  “We do,” Tokai confirmed, adding diffidently, “Kharishma and Anand tell me that you might require some… support?”

  Ir Yth visibly swelled, like a toad. She said, I was sent here to bring humanity into the fold of a great galactic empire, so that it might benefit from such a benign alliance, but there are tensions between my caste and others. Another was sent, with a very different purpose: to destroy.

  “Destroy?” Tokai echoed, skeptically. How ironic it would be, he thought, if he ended up as humanity’s savior.

  It may sound excessively dramatic, Ir Yth said, evidently put out, but it is the case. My adversary seeks to facilitate the spread of a lethal disease, and to blame it on me.

  “Indeed.” Irony after irony was being unraveled here. Tokai could detect layers of lies through the betraying sensors of the cane. “Well, obviously, since the very survival of my species is at stake, you must have all the support that you need. How may we assist?”

  The disease has already spread to certain animals. The hiroi; the monkeys in the Temple of Durga. They must be found. Tests must be conducted upon them and an antidote developed. This should then be released, in some controlled way, so that it protects as much of the population as possible. I believe that I can cure the disease, but we must work swiftly.

  “Perhaps it might be a good idea if you were to talk with my research personnel,” Tokai said, after a pause. “They have the expertise which you seek, and you may also be able to give them valuable instruction as to other diseases that we might encounter.”

  A wise suggestion, Ir Yth communicated.

  “I shall arrange for transport this afternoon. Are you comfortable here for the present? Is there anything I might obtain for you?”

  Water.

  Tokai bowed again, and rang the bell for a servant. Then, accompanied by Amir Anand, he made his way back down to the terrace.

  “Well?” Anand demanded.

  Tokai paused. “She is lying to us, Amir. I can feel it. This tells me.” He raised the cane. “Pheromonal discord lies beneath everything she said.”

  Anand stared at him in horror. “That’s—that’s a problem.”

  “No, Amir. It is an opportunity.”

  Tokai resumed his progress through the palace, swinging the cane in an almost exuberant manner as he did so. When they reached the veranda, Kharishma sprang out of her chair, her expression demanding answers, but Tokai walked past her without a glance.

  27.

  Khaikurriyë

  The sharp spines of the cell caught Anarres’ bonds and tore them, leaving rags of her passage in her wake.

  “Nowhere One! Where are you?”

  “Behind you.” The Natural’s voice was high, with an unfamiliar panic.

  But then Anarres saw that the spines were growing smaller and sparser, until they were sliding down a smooth, narrow tunnel. Dim light was diffusing through the cell walls, revealing the thick tracery of leaf veins. Below, the tunnel tapered to a narrow point and stopped. Anarres could think only of being trapped at the end of that tunnel and slowly digested. But as she opened her mouth to scream, she was carried into the tunnel’s end. A tight hole opened. Anarres, compressed and buffeted, was squeezed through like an egg. A muffled cry from behind suggested that the same thing was happening to Nowhere One.

  Then she was lying facedown in a mass of rotten pulp which smelled like the mulch with which she had nourished her house-vines. Nowhere One’s pheromonal modifications had worked—the cell had found them bitter, and spat them out. Her bonds had been left behind on the spines of its maw. They were underneath the Marginals, and free. She raised her head, and gave way to a fit of sneezing.

  “Anarres?”

  “Nowhere One? Are you all right? Where are we?”

 
“Reach out with your hand.”

  Anarres did so, and encountered something hard and damp extending above her head. “What is it?”

  “We’re in the root system.”

  Anarres felt around her. The roots grew in a great tangled mass, but there was enough space to move between them. It was as though they were resting in the branches of some great underground tree.

  “How do we get out?”

  “We’ll just have to make our way through it,” Nowhere One whispered.

  “Why are you murmuring?”

  “Because I heard something moving about up there. I don’t know what it is.”

  Anarres thought of the írHazh and shuddered. “So where can we go? Does this system even lead anywhere?”

  “I think it might. The temeni are connected, you know; their root systems allow them to pass nutrients and information back and forth. I’m sure this house talks to others, and it can only do that through the root system or pollination.” There was a pause. “Or rather, could only do that, before it was killed.”

  “But what if there are other carnivorous plants in this area? Would the modifications work for those, too?”

  “We’ll just have to find out.”

  There was a short, heavy silence.

  “We’d better start moving, then,” said Anarres.

  28.

  The river

  They had passed Lucknow, and were far upriver. It was Jaya’s turn to take watch. She sat in the prow of the barge, huddled close against the side of the boat and shielded by canisters. The rifle was balanced across her knees and she smoked a cigarette covertly, sentry style, so that its light was concealed in the hollow of her hand. Her time on the ship did not seem to have cured her nicotine craving after all.

  With the rising moon scattered across its waters, the river lapped gently against the side of the barge. Jaya stared up at the moon and thought: I’ve sailed across those seas. I’ve watched the lightning of the world. It seemed strange that someone who had never before left Bharat should have seen so much, all at once, like devouring a sweetmeat. She still couldn’t quite believe it. Whatever might have befallen her there, the time on the ship now seemed dreamlike and long-ago, a vision conjured in childhood. I suppose it was. Perhaps it’s better that way.

  Unwillingly she remembered Amir Anand and the day of her husband’s death; herself lying in the dust and the mud, out of sight, while the butcher-prince put bullet after bullet into Kamal’s spine. Yet even this worst memory seemed rendered distant by time and the things that had happened to her since: raw wound changing to old ache. It felt disloyal, as though she were starting to forget Kamal, but then all the memories of him flooded back and she knew she never would. Pain might pass; memory would always be there. She wondered, once more, what had happened to her in that strange, closed room on the ship. As soon as there was time—and language—enough, she would talk to Sirru and get some answers.

  Sitting back, she tried to imagine Sirru’s world, thinking hazily of lightning among the spires of some vast city; juggernauts cruising through the heavens like Shiva’s chariot. Does he miss his home? What kind of life does he have there? Is it really a devaloka—a realm of the gods? Or is it more like Hell? She reached down and crushed the cigarette against the damp boards of the barge. It was time to go.

  By dawn, they had left the barge and the river far behind and were headed up into the hills in two ATVs driven by hastily summoned former supporters. Bareilly lay behind them; soon they would be at Dehra Dun and Mussoorie. They had not forgotten Jaya Devi in these northern wastes, and the reason was still evident: the villages they passed through were poor, no more than hovels clinging to the dusty roadside.

  Jaya’s oddly assorted entourage elicited no more than passing interest, but Sirru kept out of sight, concealing himself by his usual mysterious means. Jaya was eager to get going, out into what might pass for freedom. Once they were in a place where she could count upon a degree of support, she would leave Rajira and Halil behind. The boy had been very quiet, perhaps still in shock from his traumatic cure, but the erosion of Selenge had faded from his skin and he was able to walk without pain.

  Rajira kept close to him, some maternal instinct aroused by the child’s evident unhappiness. Whenever Halil had something to say, he whispered it to the courtesan and she relayed it to the others. The child would no longer speak directly to Jaya, and when he looked at her, she could see the spark of accusation in his eyes. Another failed follower. Sirru said nothing, and Jaya couldn’t tell what, if anything, he was feeling.

  By noon the next day they were already climbing into the foothills. There was a mass of cloud rearing up over the mountains and the sky was gray with rain. It was beginning to be familiar territory. Jaya remembered a time when every rebel in Bharat had flocked here, ready to join the alliance and hungry to become part of a movement which would sweep the country clean of caste and corruption. Now, no more than a handful of years later, their naivete seemed incredible. Sirru, she realized with a flash of insight, would change the world more by his presence than a thousand troops ever could. Her own myth had been swept up and captured by others, and although Kharishma’s beauty might wind up taking Jaya’s fame farther than it would ever have traveled with the actress, they were not going to take this myth away from her; this story was all her own.

  The ATV skidded to a halt, wheels spinning in the mud. Jaya leaned out and spoke to the cursing driver.

  “How far are we from the pass? Ten kilometers?”

  “Maybe twelve.”

  “Then we’ll walk the rest of the way. Is the road still blocked beyond Drumai?”

  “I think so.”

  “All right, then; we couldn’t have got the vehicles up there anyway. If anyone should come after us, tell them that we were headed for Shurat. And act as though you’re frightened.”

  The driver gave a grim grin. “If it’s Amir Anand who’s coming after you, that shouldn’t be so hard.”

  Jaya slapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know who it will be. Anand’s fallen out of favor. But if you should see him, if you get a chance at a shot at him, you’ll take it, won’t you?”

  The driver’s gaze was opaque with memory as he turned his head. “Anand has no welcome here. Not after what he’s done. If I get a clear shot, I’ll take it.”

  Jaya nodded. “We’ll leave you now.”

  She stepped down from the vehicle, stretching, and made her way across the muddy track to the shelter of the neem trees to light a cigarette. Hunger gnawed at her stomach; she’d been forgetting to eat again. Sirru came to stand by her side, picking his way through the mud. When he reached the soft grass at the side of the road, he raised each foot in turn and shook it fastidiously, like a cat. He gazed at her solemnly. A shaft of light shot through the rain clouds, falling down through the leaves, and for a moment he was nothing more than a tiger pattern of shadows. Yet his ivory skin seemed duller this morning, and his eyes did not appear quite so bright. When he glanced at her, he did not seem to see her. It was as though he was looking inward to some distant horizon.

  “Are you all right?” She tried to send a sense of concern, but he was shutting her out; she could not pick up even the slightest indication of what he might be feeling. The fear of sickness, never far from Jaya’s mind, returned to haunt her. Stupidly, it had not occurred to her that Sirru could fall ill. He seemed so much beyond the usual mortal world that she sometimes forgot he was as much flesh and blood as herself, just cast in a different form. And he had cured her. He had cured the child. He was a healer, despite the weird, anomalous savagery of his methods. A healer and a harvester: like the gods themselves, who killed and cured at their own strange whim.

  She had been so wrapped up in her own reactions that she had not really given time to thinking of how the alien might be responding to the loss of the ship, a different gravity and atmosphere, alien food. If Sirru died… And then she told herself not to be a fool. He wasn’t going to die. But
what if he did? Everyone else who had ever been close to her had died, after all, except Rakh and the remnants of her army. Easy to become superstitious…

  She glanced uneasily at Sirru, but he was staring at the rain, which as it dripped from the pointed ends of the leaves caught the growing light, creating diamond droplets. It was easing off now, and they were losing time.

  “All right,” Jaya said, and extinguished her cigarette. “Let’s start walking.”

  The little procession headed up the mountainside: Rakh and Shiv, Rajira and Halil, and then last of all Sirru. Jaya turned once to give a final wave to the drivers, who stood with their antiquated rifles cocked across their shoulders, guarding her again from what might come.

  29.

  Southern Himalayas

  Sirru had no idea where Jaya was leading him. His geographical knowledge was, to say the least, hazy, and he had never been so far from a city. On his own world, Khaikurriyë extended across Rasasatra’s single vast continent: any spare ground had been annexed millennia ago, during the Remodeling. Even the mountains lay in what was now parkland. Sirru was confused by the heights that suddenly lay before him, at first assuming that they had strayed into the territory of some higher caste—but though there were plants, there seemed to be very few temeni. Still, it was pleasant to be surrounded by living things once more, and Sirru could concentrate on the progress of the communications network without distractions.

  It was beginning to impinge upon him now that he was in the company of three of his nexi: all infected in different ways. Jaya, as a genetic Receiver, would probably prove to be the most stable, and this pleased Sirru, who felt that he needed to explain things to her in rather more detail than he had as yet. She did not trust him, and this was upsetting. Sometimes, now, he saw through the eyes of Rajira, Halil, and Jaya almost as well as he saw through his own. Their thoughts, fragmented though they were, lent meaning to his own vision.