The Ships of Earth: Homecoming: Volume 3 Page 5

  Nafai undressed quickly and gathered her to him under the blankets. “You’re warm,” he said.

  “I think the technical term is hot,” she answered.

  “Elemak is planning to kill me,” he whispered.

  “I wish the Oversoul would just stop him,” she whispered.

  “I don’t think it can. I think Elemak’s will is too strong for the Oversoul to make him change his mind once he’s set on doing something.” He didn’t tell her that the Oversoul had hinted that somewhere along the line Nafai might have to kill his brother. Since Nafai had no intention of ever doing it, there was no reason to put the idea in Luet’s mind. He would be ashamed to say it anyway, for fear she would then think he might consider such a thing.

  “Hushidh thinks she senses Elemak bonding more closely with the ones who want to turn back—Kokor and Sevet, Vas and Obring, Meb and Dol. They’re forming a sort of community now, and separating almost completely from the rest of us.”

  “Shedemei?”

  “She wants to turn back, but there’s no bond between her and the others.”

  “So only you and I and Hushidh and Mother want to go on into the desert.”

  “And Eiadh. She wants to go wherever you go.”

  They both laughed, but Nafai understood that Luet needed reassurance that Eiadh’s desire for him was not reciprocated. So he reassured her thoroughly, and then they slept.

  In the morning, with the camels packed, Elemak called them together. “A couple of things,” he said. “First, Rasa and Shedemei have proposed it and I agree with them completely. While we’re living in the desert, we can’t afford to have the kind of sexual freedom we had in Basilica. It would only cause rancor and disloyalty, and that’s a death sentence for a caravan. So as long as we remain in the desert—and that includes at Father’s camp, and anywhere else that our population consists of just us and the three who are waiting for us—this is the law: There’ll be no sleeping with anyone except your own husband or wife, and all marriages as they presently stand are permanent.”

  Immediately there was a gasp of shock from several; Luet looked around and saw that it was the predictable ones—Kokor and Obring and Mebbekew—who were most upset.

  “You have no right to make a decision like that,” said Vas mildly. “We’re all Basilicans, and we live under Basilican law.” .

  “When we’re in Basilica we live under Basilican law,” said Elemak. “But when you’re in the desert you live under desert law, and desert law has it that the word of the caravan leader is final. I’ll listen to any ideas until I have to make a decision, but once the decision is made any resistance is mutiny, do you understand me?”

  “No one tells me who I must sleep with and who I may not,” said Kokor.

  Elemak walked up to her and faced her; she looked so frail compared to the sheer mass of Elemak’s tall, wellmuscled body. “And I tell you that in the desert, I won’t have anyone creeping from tent to tent. It will lead to murder one way or another, and so instead of letting you improvise the dying, I’ll let you know right now: If anyone is caught in a position that even looks like you’re getting sexually involved with someone you aren’t married to, I will personally kill the woman on the spot.”

  “The woman!” cried Kokor.

  “We need the men to help load the camels,” said Elemak. “Besides, the idea shouldn’t seem strange to you, Koya, since you made exactly the same decision the last time you decided that somebody should die for the crime of adultery.”

  Luet could see how both Kokor and her sister Sevet immediately touched their throats—for it was in the throat that Kokor had struck Sevet, nearly killing her and leaving her almost voiceless ever since. While Kokor’s husband, Obring, who had been bouncing away just as merrily when Kokor found the two of them, was unscathed. It was viciously unkind and exactly appropriate for Elemak to remind them all of that event, because it completely silenced any kind of opposition to the new law from three of the four people most likely to oppose it: Kokor, Sevet, and Obring had nothing to say at all.

  “You don’t have the right to decide this,” said Mebbekew. He was, of course, the fourth—but Luet knew that Elemak would have no trouble bringing him into line. He never did, with Meb.

  “I not only have the right,” said Elemak, “I have the duty. This is a law necessary for the survival of our little company in the desert, and so it will be obeyed or I will enforce the only penalty that I can enforce here, so many kilometers from civilization. If you can’t grasp this idea, then I’m sure Lady Rasa can explain it to you.”

  He turned and faced Rasa, in a silent demand that she back him up. She did not disappoint him. “I tried and tried all night to think of another way to handle this,” she said, “but we can’t live without this law, and as Elya says, in the desert the only penalty that means anything at all is . . . what he said. But not killing outright!” she said, clearly hating the whole idea of it. “Only binding and leaving a person.”

  “Only?” said Elemak disdainfully. “It’s by far the cruder death.”

  “It leaves her in the hands of the Oversoul,” Rasa said. “Perhaps to be rescued.”

  “You should pray not,” said Elemak. “The animals are kinder than any rescuers she’d find out here.”

  “A lawbreaker is to be bound and abandoned, not killed!” Rasa insisted.

  Luet thought: She fears it will be a daughter of hers who will first break this law. As for Elemak’s rule that having only the woman die will better restrain the man, he has it backward. Few men think of consequences when they’re filled with desire, but a woman can put off her own desires if a man she loves would be at risk.

  “As the lady wishes,” said Elemak. “The law of the desert leaves the choice up to the leader of the caravan. I would normally choose a quick, clean death by pulse, but let us hope that no such choice ever has to be made.” He looked around at the whole group, turning to include in his gaze the ones who were behind him. “I don’t ask for your consent in this,” he said. “I simply tell you that this is the way it will be. So now raise your hand if you understand the law we will live by.”

  They all raised their hands, though clearly some were furious.

  No, not quite all. “Meb,” said Elemak. “Raise your hand. You’re embarrassing your dear wife Dol. She’s no doubt beginning to wonder who is the woman here whose love you consider so desirable that you would cause an imperfectly virtuous lady’s certain death by pursuing it.”

  Now Meb raised his hand.

  “Good,” said Elemak. “And now for the other matter. We have a decision to make,” he said.

  The sun had not yet risen, so it was still bitterly cold—especially for the ones who had done very little of the work of striking the tents and loading the camels. So it might have been just the cold that made Mebbekew’s voice tremble when he said, “I thought you were making all the decisions now.”

  “I make all the decisions that have to do with keeping us alive and moving,” said Elemak. “But I don’t fancy myself some kind of tyrant. The decisions that don’t have to do with survival belong to the whole group, not to me. We can’t survive unless we all stay together, so I’ll tolerate no divisions among us. At the same time, I don’t recall a point where anybody actually decided where it was we were going.”

  “We’re going back to Father and Issib,” said Nafai immediately. “You know they’re counting on us to return.”

  “They have plenty of water as long as they stay put. They need someone to go and fetch them sometime in the next few months—they’ve got years of supplies, for that matter,” said Elemak. “So let’s not turn this into a life and death matter unless we have to. If the majority wants to go on until we reach Volemak in the desert, fine. That’s where we’ll all go.”

  “We can’t go back to Basilica,” said Luet. “My father made that very clear.” Her father, of course, was Moozh, the great general of the Gorayni, though she had not known that until a few days ago. But by
reminding the others of this newfound family connection, she hoped to make her words carry more weight. She wasn’t skilled at persuasion; she had always simply told the truth, and because the women of Basilica knew her to be the waterseer, her words were taken seriously. It was a new thing, talking to a group that included men. But she knew that asserting one’s family status was one of the ways people got their way in Basilica, and so she tried it now.

  “Yes,” said Kokor, “your tender loving father who tried to marry his own daughter and then threw us all out of the city when he couldn’t.”

  “That’s not the way it happened,” said Luet.

  Hushidh touched Luet’s hand to still her. “Don’t try,” Hushidh whispered softly. “Koya’s better at it than you are.”

  No one else heard Hushidh’s words, but when Luet fell silent they understood the effect of what she said, and Kokor smirked.

  “Luet is right enough that we probably can’t go back to Basilica,” said Elemak, “at least not right away—I think that was the message we were meant to understand from the fact that he sent an escort of soldiers to make sure we got safely away from the city.”

  “I’m so tired of hearing how none of us can get back to Basilica,” said Mebbekew, “when it’s only those who embarrassed him in front of everybody.” He was pointing at Hushidh and Luet and Nafai.

  “Do shut up, Meb,” said Elemak with genial contempt. “I don’t want us to be standing here talking when the sun comes up. We’re in exactly the kind of country that bandits like to hole up in, and if there are some hiding from the darkness in caves nearby, they’re bound to come out by daylight.”

  Luet wondered if in feet Elemak had picked up some intimation of the bandits that the Oversoul had been controlling. Perhaps Elemak knew all along that such men were only brave in the sunlight, and hid at night. Besides, it was possible that Elemak was receiving the Oversoul’s messages subliminally, not realizing where the thoughts and ideas were coming from. After all, Elemak was as much a result of the Oversoul’s secret breeding program as any of the rest of them were, and he had received a dream not long ago. If only Elemak would simply admit that he could communicate with the Oversoul and follow her plans willingly—it would uncomplicate everything. As it was, she and Hushidh had been working on plans to try to thwart Elemak in whatever it was he was planning to do.

  “Even though we really can’t go back to Basilica immediately,” Elemak went on, “that doesn’t mean we have to go join Father at once. There are many other cities that would take in a caravan of strangers, if only because Shedemei has an extremely valuable cargo of embryos and seeds.”

  “They’re not for sale,” said Shedemei. Her voice was harsh enough, her answer abrupt enough, that everyone knew she had no intention of arguing about it.

  “Not even to save our lives?” said Elemak sweetly. “But never mind—I don’t propose selling them anyway. They’re only valuable when they come along with the knowledge that Shedya has in her head. What matters is that they will let us in if they know that, far from being a band of penniless wanderers recently expelled from Basilica by General Moozh of the Gorayni, we are instead accompanying the famous geneticist Shedemei, who is moving her laboratory away from strife-torn Basilica to some peaceful city that will guarantee her a place to do her work without disturbance.”

  “Perfect,” said Vas. “There’s not a City of the Plain that would refuse us entry on those terms.”

  “They’d offer us money, in fact,” said Obring.

  “They’d offer me money, you mean,” said Shedemei. But clearly she was flattered—she hadn’t really thought of the fact that her presence would convey a certain amount of prestige on any city she settled in. Luet could see that Elemak’s flattery was having its effect.

  〈He’s going to put it to a vote.〉 The Oversoul spoke in Luet’s mind.

  That much is obvious by now, said Luet. What is his plan?

  〈When Nafai opposes the decision to return to the city, it will be mutiny.〉

  Then he must not oppose.

  〈Then my work would be thwarted.〉

  Then control the vote.

  〈Whose vote should I change? Which of them would Elemak believe if he suddenly voted to go on?〉

  Then don’t let the vote happen.

  〈I have no such influence with Elemak.〉

  Then tell Nafai not to oppose!

  〈He must oppose, or there will be no voyage to Earth.〉

  “No!” cried Luet.

  Everyone looked at her. “No what?” asked Elemak.

  “No vote,” she said. “There will be no vote.”

  “Ah yes,” said Elemak. “We have another freedom-lover here who realizes that she doesn’t approve of democracy after all, when she thinks the vote will go against her.”

  “Who said anything about voting?” asked Dol, who was never terribly sharp about what was going on around her.

  “I vote we go back to civilization,” said Obring. “Otherwise we’re slaves to marriage—and to Elemak, for that matter!”

  “But I said nothing about putting things to a vote,” said Elemak. “I said only that we must make a decision about where to go. A vote might be interesting, but I won’t be bound by it. It’s your counsel that I need, not your governance.”

  So they counseled him, eloquently—or tried to. But if anyone even began to advance an argument that someone else had already stated, Elemak would silence them at once. “I’ve already heard that. Anything new to add?” As a result, the discussion didn’t last very long at all. Sooner than Luet would have thought possible, Elemak asked, “Anything else?” and no one answered.

  He waited, looked around at them. The sun was coming over the tops of the distant mountains now, and his eyes and hair glowed with reflected light. This is his finest moment, thought Luet. This is what he has planned for—a whole community, including his father’s wife, including his brother Nafai, including the waterseer and the raveler of Basilica, including his own bride, all waiting for the decision that will change their lives. Or end them.

  “Thank you for your wise counsel,” said Elemak gravely. “It seems to me that we don’t have to choose one way or another. Those who want to return to civilization may, and soon enough those who want to go on into the desert on this errand for the Oversoul may do so as well. We can call it a rescue of my father or we can call it the beginning of a voyage to Earth—that’s not at issue now. What matters is that all can be satisfied. We’ll go south a little way and then come over the mountains and down into the Cities of the Plain. There we can leave those who can’t bear to live under the harsh law of the desert, and I can take the stronger ones with me.”

  “Thanks so much!” said Mebbekew.

  “I don’t care what he calls me, as long as I have my freedom,” said Kokor.

  “Fools,” said Nafai. “Don’t you see that he’s only pretending?”

  “What did you say?” said Elemak.

  “He intended to take us back to civilization all along,” said Nafai.

  “Don’t, Nafai,” said Luet, for she knew what was coming next.

  “Listen to your brideling, Brother,” said Elemak. His voice was deceptively mild.

  “I will listen to the Oversoul,” said Nafai. “The only reason we’re alive right now is because the Oversoul has been influencing a band of robbers to stay holed up in their cave not three hundred meters away. The Oversoul can lead us perfectly well across the desert, with or without Elemak and his stupid desert law. It’s a game for boys that he’s playing—who can make the boldest threats—”

  “Not threats,” said Elemak. “Laws that every desert traveler knows.”

  “If we trust in the Oversoul we will be perfectly safe on this journey. If we trust in Elemak we’ll return to the Plain and be destroyed in the wars that are coming.”

  “Trust in the Oversoul,” said Meb with a sneer. “What you mean is do whatever you say”

  “Elemak knows that the Overso
ul is real enough—he had a dream that led us back to the city to marry our wives, didn’t he?”

  Elemak only laughed. “Babble on, Nafai.”

  “It’s as Elemak said. This isn’t a matter for democracy. It’s a matter for each of us to decide. Go on with the journey as the Oversoul has directed, and we’ll take the greatest voyage in forty million years and inherit a world for us and our children. Or go back to the city where you can betray your spouse as some of you are already planning. As for me and Luet, we will never go back to the city.”

  “Enough,” said Elemak. “Not another word or you’re dead this instant.” A pulse was in his hand. Luet had not noticed he was carrying it, but she knew what it meant. This was exactly what Elemak had been waiting for. He had set it up very carefully, and now he could kill Nafai and no one would dare condemn him for it. “I know the desert and you don’t,” said Elemak. “There are no bandits where you claim there are, or we’d already be dead. If that’s what passes for wisdom in your fevered little brain, Brother, then anyone who stayed with you would surely be doomed. But no one will stay with you, because I’m not about to let this group split up. That would mean certain death for anyone who went with you.”

  “A lie,” said Nafai.

  “Please, speak again so I can kill you as the mutineer you are.”

  “Hold your tongue, Nafai, for my sake!” said Luet.

  “You’ve all heard him, haven’t you?” said Elemak. “He has proclaimed rebellion against my authority and attempted to lead a group away to their destruction. That’s mutiny, which is far more serious than adultery, and the penalty is death. You are all witnesses. There’s not one of you but would have to confess it in court, should it ever come to that.”

  “Please,” said Luet. “Let him be, and he’ll say no more.”

  “Is that true, Nafai?” asked Elemak.

  “If you continue to head back to the city,” said Nafai, “the Oversoul will have no reason to restrain the bandits any further, and you will all be killed.”

  “You see?” said Elemak. “Even now he tries to frighten us with these fantasies of nonexistent bandits.”