Empire of Bones Read online

  To his private delight, he was beginning to learn the words for things, the layers of the world. He learned their senses of self, their places within their culture. He was startled to find that Rajira was one of its humblest members rather than a respected citizen, and wondered uneasily what reception Anarres might meet if she should ever visit this world. He learned that the child was still suffering from the lethargy left by the disease, but that he was planning to run when he recovered his strength.

  Sirru sighed. He supposed that it had been a mistake to seize the child in such a savage way, but he had needed to demonstrate to Jaya that the disease which so preoccupied her was relatively simple to cure, and he had feared that she might not let him near the infant. Next time, gentler methods could be employed, but now one member of the party, at the least, hated and feared him. That would have to be rectified. If he had time, he would try to win the child over. Halil was a nexus, after all, and therefore precious. Besides, it was a matter of common decency.

  But it was Jaya whom he could feel and look into most deeply. Sirru felt that he was really getting to know his Receiver, and as the viral link between them grew, so did his affection for her. Rajira reminded him a little too much of a khaith, with her soft plumpness, but Jaya—small, lithe, and bony—was more recognizably desqusai. Ironically, it was Rajira who was attracted to him, in what was evidently a rather baffled way. The link effected by their congress was still extant; he had, in effect, hardwired himself into her hormonal array. Sirru suspected that he would have to do something about that before much longer.

  He thought wistfully of a return to his First Body and his normal life. But who knew when, if ever, this would come to be; Core alone knew what havoc Ir Yth had already managed to wreak. Sirru experienced a moment of pure fury, an emotion so foreign to his usual state of equanimity that it took him aback.

  His mood and concept suppressants were long gone now, broken down into harmless cells and faded from his bloodstream. Forbidden thoughts now came to him with increasing frequency: rage at the cavalier way in which the Core molded the castes to suit its own dark purposes; the manner in which Making was so carefully controlled; the way in which groups such as the Naturals were promoted as examples of the Core’s tolerance but were in reality suppressed by being forced to live on the fringes of society.

  The oldest legends related how the beings of the Core were the most ancient in all the galaxy, how every intelligent form of life stemmed from them, and how they were therefore entitled to absolute dominion over the thousands of worlds beneath their sway. But was this true? What are they, our Makers; what manner of thing? No one had been allowed into the heart of the Core for thousands of years; its demands were interpreted and filtered down the castes through the multitudinous arrays of the Marginals. Perhaps there isn’t even anything there. Perhaps they’re all long dead, and it is the Marginal castes themselves who run the universe. Perhaps there are no suppressants, and we are so controlled that we police our own thoughts.

  This last thought frightened Sirru more than any other, and his skin flushed cold. The three nexi halted and turned to look at him, moving eerily as one. Sirru distributed hasty reassurance as unobtrusively as possible; the last thing he wanted was to alarm them. He tried to turn his mind from new and disturbing thoughts and to concentrate instead upon learning from the nexi.

  Gradually, he gleaned the words for sky and sun and rain, and for the feathered hiroi which flashed through the branches of the trees. He was intrigued to find that a few of the oldest root-words still persisted: words that were honored among his people for the length of their lineage. Without their customary layering of emotional tone, they were flat and bland, but they were nonetheless recognizable. Phrases darted through his mind like the creatures in the trees and slowly, slowly, they began to make sense. The thought of being able to communicate effectively with Jaya, and to find out what she was really thinking, filled him with anticipation. That night, while her dark figure sat hunched over the gun and the golden moon floated above the mountains, Sirru sent out a tentative message.

  CRADLED beneath a tree, Rajira Jahan stirred in her sleep, but did not wake. Halil mumbled, afraid, and Jaya raised her head and gave Sirru a long, uncomprehending glance. In troubled Varanasi, a woman lying on a bed tossed and turned. Her skin was already hot with fever; she had succumbed more quickly than the others. In the Punjab, a man sat by a window with a jug of ice water, for he could not sleep, but the dreams came to him nonetheless: regular pulses of coded information. He did not understand, Sirru saw, but this did not matter. After all, a radio does not comprehend the information it transmits and receives.

  30.

  Research laboratory, Tokai Pharmaceuticals, Varanasi

  They had found one of the monkeys. Younger than the rest, and with a withered leg, it proved easier to capture than the others. Tokai’s hirelings reported that the monkeys moved with an eerie, concerted effort, flitting like spirits through the labyrinths beneath the temple, but the little one was slower and had been left behind. Now, the monkey sat with listless indifference in the corner of its cage. Tokai had not yet permitted any of the research technicians to touch it, and ordered it to be placed in Level Four isolation. He now stood at the airlock to the isolation ward with Ir Yth, watching the little figure.

  This place is your laboratory?

  “One of them, yes. I have others, throughout Chile and Japan. Southeast Asia, too.”

  An extensive network.

  Tokai gave a small smile. “I should like it to be larger.”

  That is a distinct possibility.

  Self-deprecatingly, Tokai said, “This world must seem very small and limited to one from such a vast empire.”

  Very small, yes. The Empire consists of many thousands of worlds, many billions of souls. It is not only the oldest civilization; it is the only one.

  Imperceptibly, Tokai sighed. Despite his distrust of Ir Yth, he found himself moving in and out of sympathy with her. Her modesty, her reserve, and her apparent need to maintain honor were surprisingly Asian, and appealing, but the arrogance and the condescension with which she treated her new allies were surely not. Tokai was not used to being dealt with in this manner, and it infuriated him. He took care not to show this, and had dosed himself with a cocktail of pheromonal suppressants in order not to betray himself. He suspected that Ir Yth gained a great deal of unwitting information through these self-betrayals, as indeed he did himself.

  I will investigate the animal, Ir Yth informed him now.

  “We have an extensive range of precautions—” Tokai began, gesturing to the protective suits that hung on the wall, and to the airlock itself. Ir Yth gave him a scornful glance.

  There is no need for unnecessary encumberment. I do not require protection.

  “But there are a great many lethal viruses contained within this chamber. Do you see the containment racks? If you were to accidentally release something—”

  I am not that clumsy. Open the door.

  “Very well. But I’m going in with you. Give me a few minutes to suit up and—”

  I will go alone.

  “No.”

  Tokai and Ir Yth glared at one another for a moment, and then the raksasa conceded.

  Very well. I am here to assist, not cause further problems.

  She waited with evident impatience while Tokai methodically went through the rituals of suiting up. Then together they stepped through the door of the airlock, which hissed shut behind them. Tokai released the second door, and the raksasa strode into the isolation chamber as though she owned the place.

  Ir Yth went straight to the cage in which the monkey was kept. Releasing the catch, she reached in and grasped the monkey by the scruff of the neck. It hung, squirming, from her stumpy fingers.

  “Wait!” Tokai cried. “What are you doing?”

  Hauling the monkey out of the cage, the raksasa studied it for a moment. Tokai watched in paralyzed revulsion as a long, thin, red blade
extended from between the raksasa’s furled lips and stabbed at the base of the animal’s throat. The monkey gave a single small squeak and then went limp.

  “Wait—” Tokai whispered, appalled at this vampiric display. Memories of the stories of demons told to him in childhood returned with alarming clarity. Ir Yth ignored him. The red tongue was straight and stiff, but occasionally it quivered. And then it retracted with lizard-tongue speed, its curled end flickering briefly over Ir Yth’s lips.

  Interesting, Ir Yth said, as if to herself.

  “I’m sure,” Tokai remarked, weakly.

  It will take a little time to analyze.

  Something was moving beneath Ir Yth’s robe. Tokai could see the material above her ridged breastbone fluttering, as if stirred by an invisible breeze. Ir Yth’s golden gaze was bland and blank.

  I see…It is indeed a virulent plague.

  Without his cane, and sealed off from Ir Yth’s betraying pheromones, Tokai could only assume that she might be lying.

  “How terrible,” he said, sincerely.

  But it can be treated. An antidote can be manufactured.

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  But it will not be easy. I require assistance. I also require…certain considerations.

  “Perhaps you would be good enough to instruct me.”

  I require knowledge of your operations. What is this? The raksasa held up a glistening phial.

  “Please put that back!”

  You seem agitated, Ir Yth said.

  “That is a sample of the virus that causes a disease called Selenge, an illness of which you may have heard. There is no way of knowing what it might do to you—you are not human, after all, and—”

  But once again he was too late. With a deft twist, Ir Yth removed the stopper of the flask, then tested the contents with her tongue.

  “Madam! IrYth!”

  The raksasa turned a gilded eye upon Naran Tokai.

  This is manufactured.

  “What are you talking about? It’s a retrovirus; it—”

  I have had some experience of the diseases of this world. They are naturally occurring, harmful mutations of the original communication mechanisms with which the írRas supplied this biosphere. This is not natural. This has been made. I congratulate you, Tokai. This branch of the desqusai is more advanced than I had believed. What is it for?

  “What do you mean?” Tokai asked, trying to recover his shattered composure. The prospect of being blackmailed by Ir Yth was not an appealing one.

  Its function. Such things are not manufactured for personal amusement. Permit me to speculate. I know that certain societies here are divided by caste, just as my own society is. Jaya has told me that her own caste is extremely lowly, but that they used to have a more equal position. That equality was eroded with the advent of a new political order, and subsequently sealed by the advent of the disease called Selenge, which affected primarily the lower castes and therefore caused them to be mistrusted and shunned, and confined to the filthier jobs. It must have been a very good excuse for the authorities to continue to revoke their privileges. You have a virtual monopoly on the pharmaceutical industry in this part of the world. I wonder what you have done to earn such a position.

  “Very well,” Tokai said warily. “You seem to have an admirable grasp on political realities.”

  I am not here to challenge your actions. Local politics hold little interest for me as long as they do not interfere with Core plans. Indeed, the use of such mechanisms to control the stability of a society is a method that the Core itself has employed; it is the sign of a developed order. But your manufactured viruses might serve as a carrier for the antidote. And now, I should like to make further investigations.

  The fragile body of the monkey lay unmoving in its cage. Tokai felt equally drained as he watched Ir Yth bustling about the laboratory, tasting and testing Tokai’s fatal creations with all the enthusiasm of a child in a sweetshop, feasting on poisonous candies.

  YAMUNOTRI

  1.

  Southern Himalayas

  They had now been traveling for over a day, heading up into the high passes. Rajira and the child were clearly finding it difficult, and Jaya planned to leave them at the first place that seemed reasonably secure. Unfortunately, this was not proving easy to find. Once, these lower slopes had been covered with small-holdings and summer pastures, but Amir Anand’s scorched-earth policy had taught this part of the north a hard lesson. Now, the hills were silent and bare, with only the thin grass growing sparsely on the heights. The ruins of houses by the side of the road, bullet holes still stitching the faded white plaster of their walls, were another legacy.

  It was not only the past that preoccupied Jaya—she was becoming increasingly certain that Sirru might be ill. He had grown silent and withdrawn; his narrow face seemed pinched and paler. When dawn once more broke over the mountains, she stepped stealthily across the ranks of sleeping bodies and stared down at him. They had taken shelter in one of the ruined compounds, in the moldy hay of a cattle shed. Sirru was asleep. He lay flat on his back with his hands crossed over his chest like a fallen statue, his face peaceful and remote. But his skin was ashen, and his breathing quick and shallow. Rajira Jahan whimpered in her sleep, and Jaya turned. She could see a film of sweat glistening upon Rajira’s brow. Halil, too, muttered and mumbled, locked in dreams.

  For a brief, unnerving moment, Jaya could see the content of those nightmares. Halil was dreaming of the alien: a tall pale presence, with a demon’s teeth. Jaya sat back on her heels and looked inward, searching for signs of illness, but there were none. She felt alert and alive, her awareness heightened to almost animal sensitivity. The glimpse of another mind that she had just received was nothing like the speech of the ship. It was close and low and human; familiar. It seemed ironic to Jaya that all about her should be falling sick whilst she remained well. Gently, she crouched by the child’s side and brushed a hand across his forehead. Halil’s skin was cold as mountain snow. Wondering, Jaya tucked his blanket about him and left him in peace.

  As she stood back, she saw that Rakh was awake and watching her. There were questions in his gaze, and Jaya nodded.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said.

  Rakh struggled sleepily to his feet and accompanied her out into the compound. This high in the hills, it was chilly, and there was the glaze of ice on one of the water tanks. No wonder the child’s temperature was so low; she hoped that was all it was. She wrapped her arms about her chest in reflex action, yet she herself could not feel the cold. She said, “I think they’re ill—Rajira and Halil, and the alien.”

  Rakh said, without surprise, “It’s always the way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said it yourself. Colonizers. They bring sickness with them. Sometimes they die.”

  “But he healed Halil.”

  “Did he? By attacking him? You just said that the boy’s sickening again.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think it’s with Selenge. That doesn’t start like this—it begins with a rash and vomiting.”

  “Who knows what diseases they carry with them? Perhaps that’s the plan. Maybe Sirru is a carrier. A sacrifice.”

  “Maybe,” Jaya said doubtfully.

  “If it wasn’t for the fact that Sirru healed the boy,” Rakh said, “would you let him live?”

  Jaya looked at him. “I don’t know. But even if I didn’t, I don’t think others would be far behind him. We ought to wake them,” she added, briskly. “Find better shelter, if we’ve got wounded on our hands.”

  But Rajira could not be woken with the others. Jaya came back from a hasty wash in the water tank to find Rakh kneeling by her prone body.

  “Rakh? What’s wrong?” Jaya asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t wake her.”

  “Wonderful,” Jaya said bitterly. “First everything else, and now this…”She glanced across at Sirru. For a moment, she thought he was still asleep, too, but the
n the golden eyes snapped open. The warmth of unexpected relief spread in a rush through Jaya’s stomach. At her side, Rajira murmured something and woke. She blinked up at the worried faces around her.

  “Rajira?” Jaya said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes… I think so. Except I had dreams…”

  “What sort of dreams?”

  “I could hear other people. I was in their heads.” Rajira sat up and clutched her shawl more tightly about her plump form. She looked down at her ringed hand as though she’d never seen it before. “Where are we?”

  “Not far from a place where you’ll be safe,” Jaya said, with a confidence that she did not feel. Rajira glanced uncertainly toward Sirru. The alien was now sitting cross-legged beneath the cross-pole of the cowshed, his robes folded neatly about him. He was wearing an absent smile, which lent him an unsettling resemblance to a skinny Buddha. Jaya scrambled across, knelt in front of him, and felt for his pulse. Sirru looked down at her without surprise. His skin retained its coolness; she wondered how sickness would manifest itself in one so strange.

  “Are you all right?” she tried to convey, but she got the impression that he wasn’t even listening to her, as though she were nothing more to him than one of the flies which hummed through the undergrowth. “Very well,” Jaya said, wearily. “Let’s get going.”

  As they progressed up the slopes, the landscape became increasingly familiar to her. There was the cluster of rocks behind which they had hidden when Anand’s militia stormed the valley. That boulder over there was where her lieutenant, Hakri, had died. With a chill Jaya remembered turning to speak to him and seeing him sitting peacefully by her side, quite dead, his mouth slightly open as though on the verge of a reply. There was the spring that had tasted of snowmelt and freedom. All these memories of place returned to Jaya as they traveled, and she knew that Rakh was feeling the same things. They did not speak, but he moved to walk beside her, as he had done for so many years now, in order to lend her strength.