The Ghost Sister Read online

  Yet Shu also wondered whether Bel might not have welcomed a little piece of territory to call her own, away from the long arm of her mother, and she wondered too how long Bel would be content to remain as Dia's acolyte. Shu could sense a well of pain and loss within Bel, but she could already see the girl's determination to go forth and evangelize, to make something worthwhile out of the ruin of her past. Shu did not find this reassuring.

  Then Bel Zhur's skilled hands brought the aircar smoothly around, the light changed, and Shu could once more gaze out across the immensity of the world below. They had now been flying for over an hour and the land was still empty of anything resembling human life. The distant mountain ranges sloped down into great gray folds tipped with snow, bordered by the green sea as it ate into the coast. The skeins of islands that had given this world its name reached to the curve of the southern horizon. Shu peered out, trying to see farther, but by degrees, she realized that they were losing height.

  “Bel Zhur? Is everything all right?”

  “It's fine,” the girl said, quick to reassure her. “I'm taking us down. The scan's picking something up. Looks like some kind of energy field.”

  “What sort?”

  “I'm not sure … the scan's a bit fuzzy. Looks like something magnetic, or bioenergetic. I don't know what's causing it, but the location fits with the coordinates that came with the last transmission.” Bel glanced over her shoulder with a sudden eagerness that illuminated her somber face. “Shu, I think something's still broadcasting down there.”

  “It can't be the original transmitter, surely? The last transmission was made thousands of years ago. I know Elshonu Shikiriye made sure that the colonists brought some state-of-the-art equipment with them, but nothing lasts forever.”

  Bel shrugged, saying, “I've no idea, but the signature pattern doesn't look natural. If we have found the site of the original colony …” She broke off, her hands flickering in complex motion across the controls. The aircar tilted abruptly to one side.

  “Is everything all right?” Shu asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

  “I think the field's interfering with the navigation sys-tem … the aircar's drive is destabilizing. I'm taking us down as soon as I can.”

  The aircar veered across a plateau, then in through the cliff wall. Shu squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then opened them again once she found she was still alive. She saw that the aircar was flying through rising cliffs; the stone was as red as the sun.

  “Take it easy, Bel,” Shu said, as the aircar veered in at an alarmingly steep angle. “Something's coming up ahead.”

  The narrow passage between the red walls was widening. Bel Zhur took the aircar out into a huge caldera: a circle of rock cut away to reveal an amphitheater at the heart of the mountains. Shu scrambled forward, desperate for a better view.

  “Will you look at that!” Bel's brown eyes were wide. “That's not natural.”

  Squinting over Bel Zhur's shoulder, Shu saw a great gate rising in the cliff: a columned oblong of darkness. “Could that be the colony?” Shu heard herself ask.

  “If it is, let's hope we live to see it,” Bel snapped. The aircar came to a bumpy halt, throwing Shu forward in her seat so hard that the strap cut into her waist.

  The two women sat in shaken silence for a moment, listening to the aircar power down. Once the sound had stopped, Bel released the hatches and clambered out onto the stone-strewn ground at the base of the caldera, reaching up to help Shu. Once on solid ground, Shu took a deep breath, then looked around, letting the impressions filter in.

  For one, it was the quietest place she had ever known. Although she'd always regarded Irie St Syre as a peaceful world, she realized for the first time how accustomed she had become to background noise: distant voices, the continual minute whir of the biosphere control mechanisms, the hum of the Weather Monitor stations. Here, there was nothing, not even the wind. Silence lay like a lid across the caldera.The aircar itself, with its curling, fluid lines and dark green carapace, looked utterly out of place in this harsh landscape, like a water-worn stone left behind on the bed of a dead river.

  Ahead, an arched gate rose, carved in the hillside. A swirl of dust skittered through the open portal. Within the gate, the walls stretched upward, massively thick against the bitter dry cold: blocks of black stone bearing the patina of age and smoke ascending to panels the color of ebony. Shu rubbed a cautious hand along the wall; the soot was ingrained. “There was a fire here,” she said, and looked around. All the frames were empty of doors except one, a rusted metal skeleton that hung ajar, as though the people who had lived there had only slipped out for a little while. Bel Zhur stepped through and turned back to smile uncertainly at Shu.

  “Coming in?”

  The hall smelled of dust, old stone, and ancient wood. The walls inside were scoured by the wind, and dim beneath the encroaching earth. Bel coughed and the sound echoed softly, falling between the walls and rustling into silence. They came out onto a long, low gallery overlooking a central courtyard. Wan afternoon sunlight slanted across the flagstones.

  “It feels empty …” Bel Zhur whispered. “Not even ghosts any more.” They followed the gallery round, going back though a high-ceilinged room. Here, there were fewer signs of fire. The smell of age hung in the air and congested in the lungs.

  “They even left their books,” Shu said. She pulled one down from the shelf and tried to riffle its metal pages, but they were rusted solidly together. She saw then that water had blown in along the east wing, glistening along the sills.

  “Marie Celeste,” Bel said softly. “Eberne Graille.”

  “What was it that made them go?” Shu asked softly into the empty air. “The fire? And what was that field you picked up on the aircar's screen? I've seen nothing so far that looks remotely high-tech.”

  Mutely, Bel shook her head.

  They walked on, into the labyrinth of rooms. Bel held up a small oblong box, and clicked it open. Inside was a set of needles, miraculously still bright and without eyes. There was a metal figure on the inside of the lid perhaps six inches long.

  “I know what that is,” Shu said. “That's an acupuncture diagram.” She was tempted to take it with her, but the melancholy of the place made it feel too much like desecration. Carefully replacing the box, Shu followed the girl downstairs.

  Outside, the passage was darker. The light was falling and the sky above the cliff was a thin, chilly green. They followed the passage to the top of the caldera, where a tower stood high on the cliff, now no more than a ruined pagoda shell.

  “Did they burn it before they left?” Shu mused aloud. “Or did it force them out?” Dust rustled along the paving stones. Looking down from the bottom of the broken steps, they could see straight along the passage to the gate. Directly in front of the tower stood a round, ornamented bowl like a font. Rainwater gleamed in the bowl and the air was very still. But now Shu noticed that something was humming, just below the edge of hearing. It was the faintest of sounds, but it still made her jump.

  Bel Zhur paused, frowning. “What's that noise?”

  “I've no idea,” Shu said. She could hear the sound very distantly, but more than that, she could feel it. It traveled up her spine, as though someone were drawing a finger up her back. She stood still, listening, and shut her eyes in concentration, but suddenly the life scanner attached to her belt shrilled an alarm. Bel cried out. Shu's eyes snapped open. The girl was sprawling on the ground, her amber braids trailing in the dust. Her face was a contorted mask of dismay.

  “What—” Shu started to say. Bel's calf welled with blood.

  The girl looked down at her injured leg and gave a sudden whimper. Shu had the flashlight out and was wheeling around her. In the shadows, something scuffled. She glimpsed a small, pointed face, caught in the light. Something hissed, displaying sharp teeth, then ran through the shadows and disappeared. Bel was sitting on the ground with her teeth clenched, clutching her injured leg.

 
Shu helped her to her feet.

  “What was that?” Bel cried.

  “Bel, I don't know. I didn't get a good look at it. Some kind of animal, maybe. Look, we've got to get you back to the aircar and get your leg cleaned up.” A disquieting thought occurred to her. “Do you think you'll be able to fly us back to camp?”

  Bel nodded. “Most of the controls are on autoset. I'll manage. What about that field we picked up?”

  “Whatever it was,” Shu said grimly, “it can wait. Now that we've found the settlement, we can always come back.”

  The sun had gone over the edge of the cliff now, and a thin wind had sprung up, stirring the dust along the passageways as Shu helped the girl hobble back to the aircar. When they reached the gate, Shu stopped and looked back. Above the cliff, and immediately over the shattered roof of the tower, a single star hung in the bright western sky, like a distant promise.

  6. Eleres

  Late one afternoon, Mevennen came to sit with me on the long balcony as the day faded across the waters of the estuary. The bones protruded painfully within the contours of her face. Her silver eyes were rimmed with shadows and it seemed as though the weight of her hair was too heavy for her head to bear.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

  She said tightly, “I'm all right.”

  I didn't think it was true, but neither did I want to pester her with questions. We both fell silent. At this time of the day, flocks of waterbirds were passing in skeins downriver: the balachoi which came to summer here. Mevennen and I watched them as they flew like shadows across the sun and the air was filled with the beat of their fringed wings. When the last of the birds had gone, the air was still and mild. The remaining sunlight fell across the black wood of the balustrade so that it took on the deep glow of silk, and our shadows raced across the floor of the balcony and vanished into the cool shade beyond.

  After a while, Mevennen sighed. “I'm going to bed. I'm tired today …” and with an embarrassed gesture, she added, “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm complaining again.”

  “No you're not,” I said affectionately. I reached out and touched her hand. She did not reply but stood stiffly and stretched her arms above her head with her fingers linked. She bent backward and the care with which she did so made me catch my breath, although she still moved with grace.

  When she had gone, I sat for a time on the balcony. Damoth had long passed over the rim of the world and the tide was beginning to swell the waters of the estuary when the sound came, the step behind me on the balcony. I did not need to turn around to see who it was; I already knew. Who would not know, when their lover stepped softly up behind them after long absence?

  I'd let it be known that I would be here; I'd allowed myself to hope that Morrac would come, but it was greatly against my better judgment. Our affair had, at that time, lasted for the better part of four years. From the beginning he had always been the dominant one. I knew that it hurt me, drained me, ate at me like an unhealed sore, nor were others slow to tell me. But some perversity inherent in my character led me to take a peculiar enjoyment in the indifference and hostility to which I was subjected, and just when I thought everything was over, he'd come back and rekindle our affair with all its old intensity. Why I should have found that particular combination of coldness and closeness so compulsive, I don't know. My relationships with other people didn't have the same dependency, although the attraction that I had felt for a girl years ago had an element of it. This feeling still persisted, but at times I looked back at myself and knew that it was waning, strained by my impatience at my own self-indulgence.

  The young always take themselves too seriously. After a while you can't help but see the funny side of things. I hadn't quite reached those heights of maturity at that point and I've grown more sensible over the years, but perhaps at the price of passion.

  I did not turn to greet Morrac, not wishing it to seem that I'd been waiting for him. I hadn't seen him since the winter. He stepped behind me and put his hands on my shoulders; I'm sure he wasn't deceived by my apparent indifference. He too said nothing. We stayed like this for several minutes, listening to the birds calling on the river. At last I leaned back against him and rested my head against the light leather armor he wore. I could hear the beat of his heart, and it seemed to drown out all the sound of the world.

  Morrac slipped his arms around my neck. I turned and looked up at him; in the gray evening light his eyes were long and luminous and I could see the glint of his teeth as he smiled his slow, familiar smile. He looked as beautiful as ever. And then he kissed me, winding his fingers into my hair. It was a hard grip, and I couldn't break from it without pain. His mouth remained on mine until I lost my breath.

  “Well, Eleres,” he said softly into my ear. His silky voice was full of promise; my name was a caress on his tongue.

  “Morrac …” I murmured. It was hard to find my voice. He kissed me again and, standing, I reached down and pulled his hips against me. His head went back and he gasped. He was both pliant and demanding, then he pushed me back down into the chair and slid down, his mouth against my shirt, and then lower until through an ache of desire I felt my cock in his mouth. I leaned back in the chair and arched my hips up to him with a sigh. I watched the darkening sky above me and gave up everything to the rhythm of his mouth and the soft pressure of his tongue. The pulse of his mouth slowed, drew me back from coming, drew me closer again. It seemed to go on for a long time; I could hear my own harsh breathing and my chest felt tight. Then he went down on me hard and I came in his mouth, crying out with pleasure and release. Slowly, the world around me returned and I saw the faint haze of the first moon on the river and his eyes watching me, unreadable.

  He slept with me that night, promising me that he'd stay for the next few days. He'd said such things before, visiting Aidi Mordha, and I wasn't sure whether or not to believe him. I'd come home too many times to find him gone. But on the next night I walked up from the river, the chores done and expectation tightening my chest like a band. The path led up through the orchards and in the dim greenness of the evening the currents of the land ran like water through the trees. The air was full of the emechet, the gray winged insects which southerners say are the personalities of the dead, left behind on the road at the edge of the world when the spirit walks. Their wings brushed like dust against my face, and I could hear them whirring through the branches. I kept my hand close to my sword, remembering that dark thing I had seen moving through the trees.

  Inside, the tower was cool, unlit in the shadows of the evening. I found Morrac in my upstairs chamber. He seemed ghostly in the dying light, but as I entered he rose quickly and lit a taper, putting it to the lamp. I watched his illuminated profile as he bent over the light. The dark wells of his eyes were narrowed against the sudden brightness and the lamplight glanced from the sharp bones of his cheek, the bladed nose and thin mouth. He poured a glass of wine for me and the light caught it, turning it a pale, fiery green.

  “Had a good day?” I asked him, for want of anything else to say.

  “Good enough. I saw my sister Sereth earlier, mourning the loss of her Soray.”

  I sat up a little straighter, confused at this mention of my brother. “What? I didn't know we'd lost him.”

  “Well, he still isn't here, is he? Sereth thinks he's in the south. She was hoping he'd come north for the summer.” He glanced at me. “She often says how much you're like him.”

  “We're the same brood, that's why. And I'm close to my brother, as well. Like you and Sereth.”

  “She's grown quite close to you, too,” he said. I remembered Sereth against me as we traveled here, warmed by the day, her breasts soft, her mouth lazy with sleep. Something of the memory must have shown in my face, because I saw Morrac's spine stiffen slightly.

  “She's a good friend,” I said, a little defensively, and he relaxed. I thought, So I still matter to him, after everything, and I smiled up at my lover. He reached out and laid the back of hi
s hand against my face. He did not say anything more.

  7. The mission

  The nanobiotics that the biologist Sylvian had given Bel took a while to work, longer than expected. Shu spent the better part of the next day torn between frustration and worry, but she did not want to suggest that they return to the ruins without Bel Zhur. Shu herself had basic piloting skills, but the twists and turns of the entrance into the caldera did not inspire her with confidence. Besides, despite the injury to her leg, Bel was as desperate as Shu to return to the ruined city, and it seemed ungenerous to insist on leaving her behind. So Shu waited and fidgeted and wrote up her notes in exhaustive detail until Bel limped back into the tent with a protesting Sylvian close behind her and announced that she felt well enough to fly the aircar back.

  “Are you sure?” Dia asked, frowning. The Ship's Guardian looked particularly austere today, Shu thought, her brow pale between the drawn-back wings of iron-gray hair. Seen in profile, Dia could be a statue from an ancient tomb, not a living woman at all. Yet Shu suspected that her remote manner concealed nothing more sinister than a fundamental shyness. A certain lost, vulnerable look had begun to appear in Dia's large, light eyes ever since their arrival on Monde D'Isle. Shu couldn't blame her. For someone whose life hitherto had consisted of running a seminary, Dia had perhaps taken a greater risk than anyone in coming here.