All right,
Daniel sent finally. It was difficult for him, but to please Aiela, desperate to please someone in this strange place, he yielded down all his barriers.
Isande sent, with that rough impatience she knew how to use and Daniel did only by instinct, such a flood of images that for a time
here
and
now
did not exist. Even Aiela flinched from it, and then resolved to himself that he would let Isande have her way, trusting her nature if not her present mood.
There were things incredibly ancient, gleaned of tapes, of records inaccessible to outsiders. There was Kej IV under its amber sun, its plains and sullen-hued rivers; tower-holds and warriors of millennia ago, when each
nasul
had its
dhis,
its nest-tower, and
ghiaka
-wielding defenders and attackers raged in battles beyond number—
vaikka-dhis,
nest-raid, when an invading
nasul
sought to capture young for its own
dhis,
sought prisoners of either sex for
katasakke,
though prisoners often suicided.
Red-robed
dhisaisei,
females-with-young, kept the inner sanctity of the
dhis.
Most females gave birth and ignored their offspring, but within the
nasul,
there were always certain maternal females of enormous ferocity who claimed all the young, and guarded and reared them until on a day their
dhisais
-madness should pass and leave them ready to mate again. Before them even the largest males gave way in terror.
The
dhis
was the heart and soul of the
nasul,
and within it was a society no adult male ever saw again—a society rigid in its ranks and privileges. Highest of rank were the
orithaikhti,
her-children to the Orithain; and lowest in the order, the offspring-without-a-name: no male could claim parentage without the female’s confirmation, and should she declare of her offspring:
Taphrek nasiqh—“I do not know this child”—
it went nameless to the lowest rank of the
dhis.
Such usually perished, either in the
dhis,
or more cruelly, in adulthood.
It was the object of all conflict, the motive of all existence, the
dhis
—and yet forbidden to all that had once passed its doors, save for the Guardians, for the
dhisaisei,
and for the green-robed
katasathei
—pregnant ones, whose time was near. The
katasathei
were for the rest of the
nasul
the most visible symbol of the adored
dhis:
males full-
sra
to a
katasathe
drove her recent mate and all other males from her presence; females of the
nasul
gave her gifts, and forlorn non-
sra
males would often leave them where she could find them. Her only possible danger came from a female Orithain who also chanced to be
katasathe.
Then it was possible that she could be driven out, forbidden the
dhis
altogether, and her protective
sra
endangered: the ferocity of an Orithain was terrible where it regarded rival offspring, and even other
nasuli
gave way before a
nasul
whose Orithain was
katasathe,
knowing madness ruled there.
That was the ancient way. Then Cheltaris began to rise, city of the many towers, city of paradox. There had never been government or law;
nasuli
clustered, co-existed by means of ritual, stabilized, progressed. It was dimly remembered—Cheltaris: empty now, deserted
nasul
by
nasul
as the
akitomei
launched forth; and what curious logic had convinced the
nasuli
their survival lay starward was something doubtless reasonable to iduve, though to no one else.
Where each
dhis
was, there was home; and yet, shielded as the
dhis
had become within each powerful, star-wandering
akites,
without
vaikka-dhis
and the captures, inbreeding threatened the
nasuli.
So there developed the custom of
akkhres-nasuli,
a union of two
akitomei
for the sharing of
katasakke.
It was, for the two
nasuli
involved, potentially the most hazardous of all ventures, civilized by oaths, by elaborate ritual, by most strict formalities—and when all else proved vain, by the power and good sense of the two
orithainei.
Chaxal.
Dead now.
Father to Chimele.
In his time, far the other side of the
metrosi,
by a star called Niloqhatas, there had been
akkhres-nasuli.
Such a union was rare for
Ashanome;
it was occasioned by something rarer still—a ceremony of
kataberihe.
The Orithain Sogdrieni of
nasul Tashavodh
had chosen Mejakh
sra
-Narach of
Ashanome
to become his heir-mate and bear him a child to inherit
Tashavodh.
The bond between
Tashavodh
and
Ashanome
disturbed the iduve, for these were two of the oldest and most fearsome of the
nasuli
and the exchange they contemplated would make profound changes in status and balance of power among the iduve. Tensions ran abnormally high.
And trouble began with a kameth of
Tashavodh
who chanced to cross the well-known temper of Mejakh
sra
-Narach. She killed him.
Mejakh was already aboard
Tashavodh
in the long purifications before
kataberihe.
But in rage over the matter Sogdrieni burst into her chambers, drove out her own kamethi, and assaulted her. Perhaps when tempers cooled he would have allowed her to begin purifications again,
vaikka
having been settled; but it was a tangled situation: Mejakh was almost certainly now with child, conception being almost infallible with a mating. But he misjudged the
arastiethe
of Mejakh: she killed him and fled the ship.
In confusion,
Ashanome
and
Tashavodh
broke apart,
Tashavodh
stunned by the death of their Orithain,
Ashanome
satisfied that they had come off to the better in the matter of
vaikka.
It was in effect a
vaikka-dhis,
the stealing of young; and to add
chanokhia
to the
vaikka,
in the very hour that Mejakh returned to
Ashanome
she entered
katasakke
with an iduve of nameless birth.
So she violated purification of her own accord this time, and so blotted out the certainty of her child’s parentage. With the condemnation—
taphrek nasiqh
—she sent him nameless to the incubators of the
dhis
of
Ashanome
—the dishonored heir of Sogdrieni-Orithain.
Of Mejakh’s great
vaikka
she gained such
arastiethe
that she met in
katasakke
with Chaxal-Orithain of
Ashanome,
and of that mating came Khasif, firstborn of
Ashanome’
s present ruling
sra,
but not his heir. Chaxal took for his heir-mate Tusaivre of
Iqhanofre,
who bore him Chimele before she returned to her own
nasul.
Other
katasakke
-mates produced Rakhi, and Ashakh and Chaikhe.
But the nameless child survived within the
dhis,
and when he emerged he chose to be called Tejef.
Isande’s mind limned him shadowlike, much resembling Rhasif, his younger half-brother, but a quiet, frightened man despite his physical strength, who suffered wretchedly the violence of Mejakh and the contempt of Chaxal. Only Chimele, who emerged two years later, treated him with honor, for she saw that it vexed Mejakh—and Mejakh still aspired to a
kataberihe
with Chaxal, as heir-mating which threatened Chimele.
Until Chaxal died.
New loyalties sorted themselves out; a younger
sra
came into power with Chimele. There were changes outside the
nasul
too—all relations with the
orith-nasuli,
the great clans, must be redefined by new oaths. There must be two years of ceremony at the least, before the accession of Chimele could be fully accomplished.
Death.
The dark of space.
Reha.
Screens went up. Isande flinched from that. Aiela tore back.
No,
he sent, shielding Daniel.
Don’t do that to him.
Isande reached for her glass of
marithe
and trembled only slightly carrying it to her lips. But what seeped through the screens was ugly, and Daniel would gladly have fled the room, if distance and walls could have separated him from Isande.
“An Orithain cannot assume office fully until all
vaikka
of the previous Orithain is cleared,” Isande said in a quiet, precise voice, maintaining her screens. “
Tashavodh’
s Orithain—Kharxanen, full brother to Sogdrieni—had been at great
niseth
—great disadvantage—for twenty years because Chaxal had eluded all his attempts to settle. But now that
Ashanome’
s new Orithain was needing to assume office, settlement became possible. Chimele needed it as badly as Kharxanen.
“So
Tashavodh
and
Ashanome
met. Something had to be yielded on
Ashanome’
s side. Kharxanen demanded Mejakh and Tejef; Chimele refused—Mejakh being
bhan-sra
to her own
nas-katasakke
Khasif, it struck too closely at her own honor. Even
Tashavodh
had to recognize that.
“But she gave them Tejef.
“Tejef was stunned. Of course it was the logical solution; but Chimele had always treated him as if he were one of her own
nasithi,
and he had been devoted to her. Now all those favors were only the preparation of a terrible
vaikka
on him—worse than anything that had ever been done to him, I imagine. When he heard, he went to Chimele alone and unasked. There was a terrible fight.
“Usually the iduve do not intervene in male-female fights, even if someone is being maimed or killed: mating is usually violent, and violating privacy is
e-chanokhia,
very improper. But Chimele is no ordinary woman; all the
sra
of an Orithain have an honorable name, and
taphrek-nasiqh
is applicable only to paternity: the thing Tejef intended would give his offspring the name he lacked; and if he died in the attempt, it would still spite Chimele, robbing her of her accommodation with
Tashavodh.
“But Chimele’s
nasithi-katasakke
broke into the
paredre.
What happened then, only they know, but probably there was no mating—there never was a child. Tejef escaped, and when Mejakh put herself in his way trying to keep him from the lift, he overpowered her and took her down to the flight deck. The
okkitani-as
on duty there knew something terrible was wrong—alarms were sounding, the whole ship on battle alert, for the Orithain was threatened and we sat only a few leagues from
Tashavodh.
But the amaut are not fighters, and they could do little enough to stop an iduve. They simply cowered on the floor until he had gone and then the bravest of them used the intercom to call for help.
“My asuthe Reha was already on his way to the flight deck by the time I reached Chimele in the
paredre.
He seized a second shuttlecraft and followed. A kameth has immunity among iduve, even on an alien deck, and he thought if he could attach himself to the situation before
Tashavodh
could actually claim Mejakh, he could possibly help Chimele recover her and save the
arastiethe
of
Ashanome.
“But they killed him.” Screens held, altogether firm. She sipped at the
marithe,
furiously barring a human from that privacy of hers; and Daniel earnestly did not want to invade it. “They swore later they didn’t know he was only kameth. It did not occur to them that a kameth would be so rash. When he knew he was dying he fired one shot at Tejef, but Tejef was within their shields already and it had no more effect than if he had attacked
Tashavodh
with a handgun.
“The iduve—when the stakes are very high—are sensible; it is illogical to them to do anything that endangers
nasul
survival. And this was highly dangerous.
Vaikka
had gotten out of hand,
Tashavodh
was well satisfied with their acquisition of Mejakh and Tejef, but in the death of a kameth of
Ashanome,
Chimele had a serious claim against them. There is a higher authority: the Orithanhe; and she convoked it for the first time in five hundred years. It meets only in Cheltaris, and the ships were four years gathering.
“When the Orithanhe reached its decision, neither Chimele nor Kharxanen had fully what they had demanded. Mejakh had been forced into
katasakke
with a kinsman of Kharxanen; and by the Orithanhe’s decision,
Tashavodh’
s
dhis
obtained her unborn child for its incubators and
Ashanome
obtained Mejakh—no great prize. She has never been quite right since. Chimele demanded Tejef back; but the Orithanhe instead declared him out-kindred, outlaw—
e-nasuli.
“So by those terms, by very ancient custom, Tejef was due his chance: a Kej year and three days to run. Now
Ashanome
has its own: two years and six days to hunt him down—or lose rights to him forever.”
“And they have found him?” asked Daniel.
“You—may have found him.” Isande paused to pour herself more
marithe.
She scarcely drank, ordinarily, but her shaken nerves communicated to such an extent that they all breathed uneasily and struggled with her to push back the thoughts of Reha.
Revenge
ran cold and sickly through all her thoughts; and grief was there too. Aiela tried to reach her on his own, but at the moment she thought of Reha and did not want even him.
“There is the
vra-nasul Chaganokh,
” said Isande. “Vassal-clan, a six-hundred-year-old splinter of
Tashavodh,
nearby and highly suspect. We have sixty-three days left. But you see, Chimele can’t just accuse
Chaganokh
of having aided Tejef with nothing to support the claim. It’s not a matter of law, but of
harachia
—seeing.
Chaganokh
will look to see if she has come merely to secure a small
vaikka
and annoy them, or if she is in deadly earnest. No Orithain would ever harm them without absolute confidence in being right:
orithainei
do not make mistakes.
Chaganokh
will therefore base its own behavior on what it sees: by that means they will determine how far
Ashanome
is prepared to go. If she shows them truth, they will surely bend: it would be suicide for a poor
vra-nasul
to enter
vaikka
with the most ancient of all clans—which
Ashanome
is. They will not resist further.”